Embrace the Wolf

by Benjamin M. Schutz

  I looked at the charts and the compass. Christ, I was a detective, not a boat captain. I had no idea what I was looking at. I spread the maps out, looked at the depth readings and the coastline. Without any idea where I was, a heading was impossible to figure. My first goal was to stay afloat and keep calling for help. The sea was still rising and the wind was up. Rain began to pelt the boat. I battened down the hatches, took down the riggings, and made sure the booms were locked in. Saunders was still out, but breathing regularly. After rummaging around for a couple of minutes, I found another line. Having knotted it around my waist, I tied myself to the wheel. There’d be no rescue until the storm passed.

  My only goal was not to capsize and to that end I steered a course with the waves throughout the night. I stood at the radio and talked into the silent mike for hours. Even under the cockpit the rain got in and I was soaked to the bone. I swear the sun didn’t come up the next day. It just kept raining and blowing. Early on that second day panic approached me and made an offer. After serious negotiation I was able to convince myself that if we stayed afloat and rode out the storm, we’d be rescued. People knew the boat was gone. There was a big coast guard base nearby. If after the storm broke we weren’t picked up I was going to take that real bad. I could feel both a huff and a snit coming.

  The cramps hit me later that day. First my legs went. I lay down on the deck, mike in hand talking to myself. Then my guts knotted up. I tried to puke but had nothing to give up. So I just cramped and spasmed and rode them out. They began to harmonize with the sound of the waves hitting the boat. I looked at the wheel, it was spinning freely now. I was too tired to give a damn. I was grateful for that. I spent forever listening to the sea’s dull slap against the side. At some point, I thought it merged into the thwop thwop of helicopter blades, but it wasn’t until I awoke in Wendy’s smile that I was sure.

  Chapter 27

  That smile, which warmed me clear through, was administered in the county hospital. I could tell because I try never to see my clients with an IV running.

  “Hi there,” I said feebly.

  “Hi there yourself. God, it’s good to have you back. You’ve been out of it for a while.” She squeezed my free hand.

  “It’s good to be back. Last thing I remember was wanting to be buried at sea. What happened?”

  “There was a storm. I guess you know that. You rode it out. That was Saturday and Sunday. Today’s Monday. I called Chief Hungerford. They figured out when that boat didn’t come in that you all were on it. Nobody could go out until it cleared.” She took a deep breath. “Let me tell you, you had me scared when they brought you in. You were blue. I swear it. And you had these attacks that just shook you from head to foot, like waves or something going through you. When they took you into emergency, I asked the doctor afterward how you were. He said you were hypothermic and dehydrated and had these cramps because your electrolytes or something were all out of wack. You just needed to be kept warm and quiet. You slept for fourteen hours. And, oh yeah, this stuff,” she tapped the lines, “it’s supposed to straighten out all your imbalances.”

  “Great. Tastes like hell though.” I wiggled the hand the IV ran into.

  “How’s Saunders? Did he make it?”

  “Yeah. He had a concussion. He’s in the next room. His wife and a police officer—DeVito I think—are here with him. Lots of people have shown up. My folks are here. They said when you get out of here you can rest up in the extra room at the house.”

  “Tell them thanks. I wouldn’t stay anywhere else. How about you?” I tried to squeeze her hand back.

  “Oh, okay, I guess. The trials are out though.” She held up her right arm in a soft cast.

  “What happened?”

  “When that guy, Bubba, hit me and I hit the wall I chipped a bone in the elbow. It’ll heal, but not in time. Oh well, I’ll probably be peaking in ’88.” She managed a brave smile.

  “I’m sorry about that. Damn.”

  “Other than that, I’m okay. I have some bad dreams at night, and I get spooked easily. I still have a lot to work out. I’m gonna see somebody down here to talk to. Since I’m not going to LA, I’m going to spend the summer here with my folks.”

  “Listen, could you wind up my bed or something so I can see you better. This lying flat on my back makes it hard to talk.”

  “Sure. Here’s your button. It’ll do it automatically.” She pressed it, and I moved toward a sitting position.

  “That’s fine. Thanks.”

  “Oh, by the way, that friend of yours, Arnie Kendall, showed up. I know what you mean about him. When he showed up I told him I didn’t think I needed to be watched. He said if that’s what you wanted, that was what he was here to do until you said otherwise. He was always around, kind of weird, but reassuring too. He’s been outside your door since you were brought in. Chief Hungerford doesn’t like him one bit or your other friend. The one Arnie called.”

  “Who else is here?”

  “A guy named O’Neil. A lawyer. In fact, he said I should get him whenever you wake up. He wants to talk to you right away.”

  “Okay. Why don’t you do that—and come back afterward. I’d like to talk some more with you.”

  “Sure thing.” She patted my hand and got up to leave.

  “Oh Wendy.” She turned back to me. All expression was absent from her face, just like that moment before she began to approach her throw. “Thanks for being here when I woke up. There’s nobody else I’d rather have seen.” Her face assembled a radiant look of equal parts brilliant blue eyes and ear to ear grin.

  “Be right back.”

  When she left, Arnie stuck his head in.

  “You gonna live?” he asked without apparent interest.

  “Yeah. I’m gonna live.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he said. “By the way, you got lucky, very lucky.” His tone was one of reproach but not rebuke.

  I countered with, “You know what they say: I’d rather be lucky than good.”

  He was having none of it. “I know what the fools say. I say it’s better to be lucky and good. You got careless. Rest up. We’ll talk about it later.

  “Oh, yeah—do you still want me to guard that lady?”

  “No need. She killed the guy herself.”

  “Good for her.”

  I lay back to rest for a minute. “Arnie, thanks for coming down.”

  “You called, didn’t you? Now rest up. I’ll be around.” With that, he closed the door.

  Walt O’Neil is my lawyer. He is also my friend. Walt entered and crossed the room to with that jointless silken stride of his. He looked down solicitously at me and said, “Leo, me boy, you look a bit under the weather.”

  “Keen insight into the obvious, counselor. Now just how bad a fix am I in that you wanted to see me right away upon awakening?”

  “Leo, Leo, I’m injured. I wanted to see you right away to assure myself you were okay.” Walt looked hurt.

  “I’m sorry man. Thanks.” I felt like a schmuck for having misjudged him.

  “And to make sure my fee would be paid.” He smiled at me. That smile was an invitation to consider myself forgiven. I took him up on it.

  “As for your fix, I don’t think it’s real bad. Let me ask you some questions and then I want you to lie back, look exhausted, and let me do the talking.”

  “Be my guest. What do you want to know?”

  “The girl, Sullivan, she says she killed Bascomb in self-defense. That he was killing you. Is that so?”

  “Quite true.”

  “Very good. Now Saunders isn’t talking to anyone about what happened on board that boat under advice of his counsel. If he were eventually to tell his tale, is there anything you did on board that vessel to place yourself in jeopardy?”

  “Not a thing. I was a good boy.” I was settling into the banter that was typical of our time together. It felt good to do so. One more aspect of the “life as usual” I so eagerly wished to reclaim.

>   “Are there any reasons you particularly want to tell anyone what happened out there? From what I have pieced together I can imagine you being ‘spiritually aligned,’ shall we say, with Saunders and might wish to protect him.”

  “A fair reading of things.”

  “So a position of silence with the authorities would be a course of action you would endorse?”

  “By all means. Feel free to explain my silence all you want.”

  “So be it. Let’s have a go round with Chief Hungerford.”

  Walt went to the door, opened it, and Chief Hungerford walked past him. They were a study in contrasts: The chief, short, rotund, bristling with indignation; Walt, long, lean, and languid.

  The chief looked at Walt once with distaste and then at me. “Nice to see you’re back with the living, Haggerty. I’ll skip the amenities. I’d like to ask you some questions about the deaths of Bubba Bascomb and Justin Randolph.”

  Walt interrupted, “Excuse me, Chief, but may I ask a couple of questions?” Without waiting for a reply he went on. “First, my understanding is that if his story confirms Miss Sullivan’s there would be no charges filed against her as it was self-defense, correct?”

  “Yeah, that’s correct.”

  “Fine. Tell him what happened, Leo.”

  I gave Hungerford a truncated version of events, omitting what I’d seen and heard in the house. As he listened, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, obviously anxious to move on. “Fine, fine. That fits her story to a T. I’ve got no interest in prosecuting that girl. Unofficially speaking, that bastard needed killing. I’m sure you’ll provide us with a signed statement when we need one.”

  “Of course, Chief.”

  “Let’s move on to the boat. What happened out there?”

  Walt again stepped in. “Excuse me, Chief. In what capacity are you asking my client to answer?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Hungerford snapped.

  “Exactly what I said. Do you want the answer of a potential witness to a crime or of a dutiful citizen complying with a police request?”

  “Hell, he’s a witness. He was on the boat with them. They were picked up together.”

  “Quite true. He and Mr. Saunders were rescued together, but what crime was committed?”

  “Quite a few, counselor. Assault and battery, kidnapping, murder.”

  “Oh? You have witnesses that put my client there at the time of these offenses?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “I see. You have recovered a body and the coroner’s inquest yielded a finding of death at the hands of another?”

  “No. Dammit. I don’t have a body.” Hungerford had taken off his hat and was spinning it on his forefinger.

  “Have you found any witness to show that Mr. Saunders took Mr. Randolph out on that boat?”

  “No. Not a one. Once the Magliotti killing was tied to Randolph, everyone went blind. Tony senior has a lot of friends in this town.”

  “So you don’t have a crime even. Just a missing person. You’d like Mr. Haggerty to tell you if he knows anything about this missing person. Is that correct, Chief?”

  Walt was pressing for all he could get. I felt bad for the chief. His adherence to his duty had saved Wendy’s and my life. I wanted to help him, but I wanted to help Herb Saunders more. Walt started up again. “Mr. Saunders, I understand, has refused to answer any questions about the whereabouts of Justin Randolph. Is that correct?”

  “Yeah.” Hungerford had a defeated look. I was sure he wasn’t pursuing this out of a love for Justin Randolph, but rather because the law was important to him. Everyone had to abide by it or face the consequences, regardless of his personal feelings. Law for all or there’s law for none. We were abiding by the law, but not assisting it. Through that distinction justice slips in and out.

  “I have advised my client that he has no legal obligation to answer your questions, but he has assured me that should it be determined that a crime was committed he will come back and assist the investigation in any way that he can. Isn’t that right, Leo?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “If that’s all, Chief, my client is quite exhausted and needs his rest.”

  “I’ll bet he does.” Hungerford’s voice was bitter.

  “Chief, I’m sorry.” That was all I could say. I was losing the respect of someone who had stuck his neck out for me and that felt like quite a loss, but better that than helping Herb Saunders go to jail. It was the lesser of two evils, and the best I could do.

  Hungerford left, and Walt turned back to me. “Rest up, my boy. I’m going to kick around town with Arnie for a couple of days to watch this blow over. I’m at the Ramada Inn outside of town. Call when you’re up to getting together. Oh, one last thing. Mrs. Saunders sends you her thanks and wants to talk to you when you’re up. Be careful there. Don’t say anything to her about what happened out on the boat. Got it?”

  I nodded. As he let himself out, Wendy Sullivan came back in and sat by the side of the bed.

  “So, what do you want to talk about?” She crossed her forearms on the railing of the bed and put her head on them.

  “I want to talk about being friends. The war’s over.”

  “Okay. How do we go about it?”

  “I don’t know. That’s a good question. I don’t think I have any female friends. Women have always been just lovers, either would-bes or have-beens. This is new to me. It would be too easy to turn this into one more go round of that.”

  “Oh, would it?” she said with mock indignation.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. It’d be too easy for me to want to do that.”

  She thought for a moment and then said, “I’ll tell you what I think. I’m in no position to be anybody’s lover right not. I don’t just mean sexually, but I’m not ready to settle down with anybody. After all, I have a gold medal to win in ’88, right?”

  I grinned and felt relieved by what she was saying.

  She went on. “Friends are people you have fun with; you like who they are. You trust them to be honest with you, to share your feelings with, to look out for you, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, I think we’ve done okay on all those things except having fun. Let’s try to have some fun together for starters.”

  “Good idea. What’s your idea of fun?” I said.

  “Throwing a javelin.” She laughed.

  “Super, I was going to offer to take you fishing, remember.”

  “Let’s try something new. Do you like to dance?”

  “This is true confessions time, friend. I’d like to, but I don’t know how and haven’t been able to bring myself to take lessons.”

  “I love to dance. Let me teach you. It’s fun, and you won’t have to be nervous, ’cause we’re friends, right?”

  “Right, friend.”

  On that optimistic note, I finally yielded myself up to my body’s demand for rest and sank away into a sleep so deep even my dreams could not find me.

  Turn the page to continue reading from the Leo Haggerty Mysteries

  Chapter 1

  I enjoy the drive down the parkway, the cupola of trees overhead, the river running alongside, the crisp sails of the boats in the marina. I turned into Belle Haven and began to wind up the hill. The large houses were set back from the street and each other. I found the Bensons’ and turned into the driveway. It was a large square colonial, white, two stories. The pillared front porch was edged by the pink splash of flowers. Sometimes I think it’s against the law to build anything but a colonial in Virginia. But then again that was Virginia’s golden age.

  I got out of my car, glanced around the side of the house and then down the street. I went up the steps and rang the door bell. There was, thank god, no black jockey by the door. The door was opened by a woman who seemed roughly my age. Her close-cropped hair, unmade face and simple black dress impressed me as self-denial, not stylish restraint. She looked at me through out-of-focus vacant eyes as
if she had been withdrawn deep in thought and the door bell had just recalled her to the surface world. “Yes?” She winced and her eyes blinked rapidly as if she expected me to hit her.

  “I’m Leo Haggerty. Are you Mrs. Benson?”

  “Yes. Please come in.” She quickly stepped back to let me pass. Her eyes darted up and down the block to check if anyone else had seen me arrive. I thought about telling her I’d had all my shots, but a moment of maturity prevailed.

  I followed her through a dark corridor into the living room. The back wall was glass, overlooking a pool. To the left was an ample wet bar. We sat on the sofa around a Noguchi coffee table. I looked over to her for a moment to see if she could start to tell me what the problem was but she looked at me dumbly. Her mind seemed frozen by confusion and embarrassment. I always bring out the best in people.

  “Mrs. Benson, what can I do for you?”

  Mrs. Benson looked everywhere but at me. The answer was not on the ceiling. It was not out in the pool. With a forlorn sigh she found it in her lap.

  “It’s my daughter Miranda. She’s run away. I want you to bring her back.”

  “What makes you think she’s run away?”

  Finally she looked at me. “Don’t they all these days? She thinks she’s all grown-up, let me tell you. She’s doing badly at school, doesn’t mind her father or me, comes in when she wants to, does what she wants to. Quite a mouth on her too. The things that come out of it. Her contempt for everything we’ve done and tried to give her.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “Since she entered junior high school. Before then she was an angel, daddy’s little girl and all that. It’s like she changed when she went there, like something poisoned her.”

  “How long has she been gone?”

  “Since yesterday. She didn’t come home from school. She didn’t call.”

  “Have you called the police?”

  “Called the police! I’m taking a chance talking to you.”

  “How so?”

  “My husband. He’s out looking for Miranda now. He was out last night and earlier this morning too. He’d have a stroke if he knew I told anyone about this.”