Ruth scowls. “I believe that would be best.”
I leave her house, and I nearly skip down the path once the door closes. I managed to get out of it, and better yet, I had my means of getting around Moses’s game.
Chapter 16
The Confession
I open the door to the cab, and Moses grins. “So? How was she?”
I shrug. “I couldn’t say. She kicked me out.”
“What? What did you do?”
“I accused her of being in league with you.” I lean forward to the cabby and give him the address of the police station. “It seems I might have been wrong. Was I?”
“Yes,” Moses says. “I only chose Ruth Sutton because I believed it would be easier with someone you know.”
“Why did you want me to pitch woo with someone?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“Well, you best start talking. I don’t expect we’ll have much time after I drop you off at the precinct.”
Moses laughs. “You think I’m confessing after this? You failed.”
“We had a deal. If she says no for any reason, you’re going to confess regardless.”
“Deal’s off,” Moses says.
I don’t stop to think. “Cabby, take us out of town.”
The blood drains from Moses’s face as the cabby pulls away from Ruth’s house. “What are you doing?”
I shrug as I lean back in my seat. I place my hand on the butt of my heater and look sideways at Moses. “I’ve got nothing to lose. You said so yourself. It’s expected that I take you to the police, especially since I paraded you through your clip joint. But if I’m going to lose everything, I might as well go down getting justice for my brother.”
“Hey now,” the cabby says. “I’m not being any part of a murder.”
I look forward. “You do as you’re told, and I’ll be sure nobody ever knows you were the driver.”
I hear the cabby swallow hard and look forward. I look back to Moses, whose eyes are bugging out of his head.
“What do you say now?” I ask.
“Take me to the police,” he croaks.
“To the police station,” I say to the driver.
The cabby grunts and makes a few turns to get us back on the right track. I slap Moses on the shoulder. “You made the right choice, Moses.” I pull my piece from my jacket and look at it. “But if you think of betraying me again, maybe by telling the police about our conversation, I will hunt you down and you will not survive the week.”
Moses mimics the cabby and swallows hard.
After a short drive, the cabby pulls in at the front of the police station and Moses and I exit. “You ready to do this?” I ask.
Moses lowers his head and shakes it. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for this. Can I at least have one last smoke before I go away for life?”
I think better about showing mercy to the man who not only killed my brother but also forced me to nearly have a sexual confrontation with a woman I have no interest in. But despite my feelings, I pull out a snipe and put it in his mouth. I light it for him, and I wait in silence as he smokes it down to the filter.
“I appreciate that,” Moses says, spitting the butt out onto the street. “Let’s go.”
I lead him through the doors and down into the main precinct. Sergeant Liddell is sitting at his desk, his mouth hanging agape at the sight of my prisoner.
“Baxter? What’s going on here?”
“I caught us a killer,” I say.
“Howard Sutton’s killer?”
I shake my head. “I can’t confirm or deny that one. I haven’t asked him about Howard Sutton.”
“Isn't finding out who killed Howard Sutton your job?”
“I have my leads there,” I say, doing my best to shut Liddell up. “No, this man confessed to me that he killed my brother.”
“So you shoot off his finger?” Liddell stares at me; his eyes are narrow, his brow furrowed, and his face red. He’s furious with me. “They’ll have your badge for this.”
“He had his reasons,” Moses snapped. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Liddell gazes at me and gives me a look of utter confusion. “What’s going on?”
“I’m confessing to a murder. Come on; let’s get this on the record so we can get on with our day.”
Liddell looks at me again and grabs Moses’s cuffs. He leads him to the interrogation room and I follow. Moses sits in a wooden chair and Liddell approaches me. He leans in close enough I can smell the coffee on his breath.
“You keep quiet, you get me? I’m not having you lead him to a confession. By rights, you shouldn’t even be in here, but I’m doing this as a personal courtesy.”
“Not a word,” I say and lean against the back wall.
Liddell gives me a huff through his nostril and turns to Moses. “I understand you’re here to confess to a murder.”
Moses nods. “I am.”
“Whose murder?”
“I killed Brandon Baxter.”
“Brandon Baxter?”
“That’s right?”
“How?”
“Poison. It’s rare, very rare actually, only found in a certain plant in Africa. I managed to get some and poisoned him with it. Slipped it into his meal; it doesn’t take much for it to work.”
“Do you have any of it left?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I used all of it on Brandon. It doesn’t take a lot, but I also didn’t have much.”
Liddell frowns and gets in close to Moses. “Why would you kill Brandon Baxter? Last I heard, he was in the asylum, not causing anyone any harm.”
Moses’s eyes rise, though his chin stays low. “I wanted Thomas to do a little task for me, and he refused.”
“Any reason for him to refuse the task?”
“Yes, actually,” Moses says, a grin beginning to form on his face. “I had my goons abduct him and took him to my clip joint. Turns out I should have just called him.”
“What was the task?”
Moses chuckles. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“It must have been worth killing for.”
“Honestly?” Moses replies, raising his head. “It was, though I doubt you’d think so.”
“What was it?”
“I wanted him to bed Ruth Sutton. He didn’t know it at the time, not until after Brandon was dead and he confronted me.”
“Yes, let’s talk about the confrontation,” Liddell says, backing off. “What happened?”
“He came to my club and burst into my office. My guys, Roscoe and Rocco, were out for something to eat, so I was defenceless. He threatened to turn me in, so I grabbed my letter opener and came at him. He shot me in the finger, and I dropped the weapon.”
My head cocks back; Liddell doesn’t notice. Moses planned the whole night, although with the expectation that I would go through with my rendezvous with Ruth.
“I’ll be sure to get someone to check out your office,” Liddell says. “Now, you mentioned you wanted Baxter to bed Ruth Sutton. What’s the reason behind that?”
Moses shrugs. “It was what I was told to do.”
Liddell laughs and shakes his head. “You’re going to have to come up with a better story than that. You killed a man for it; there has to be something more to it. Who is she? Who is she important to?”
“It has nothing to do with her,” Moses says. “Baxter can fill you in on why I chose her.”
“Did he go through with it?”
I lower my eyes and smile. Liddell wants me to speak. He wants me to incriminate myself, despite having done nothing wrong, other than what both I and Moses are trying to cover up.
“No, he did not.”
“Is that a fact?”
“I know; I don’t know what to make of it either,” Moses says. “She’s an attractive woman; it really doesn’t make much sense for him to turn her down.”
I look at the door and almost leave the room. I’m not keen on being berated for not t
aking advantage of a vulnerable woman or being forced to pitch woo by a sleazy wet smack. I stay, though; I need to make sure Moses doesn’t say anything that will incriminate me.
“Any reason why he wouldn’t bed her?”
Moses shrugs. “He’s standing right there. Ask him yourself.”
I ball my hands into fists and put them in my pockets. I don’t know what Moses is doing, but it’s starting to put suspicion on me.
“In any case,” Moses says, “we’re getting off track. Ruth Sutton is not what’s important here. What is important is why Thomas Baxter was to bed her.”
Liddell steps back and leans against the wall. “Enlighten me.”
“Who Baxter is with doesn’t really matter; it’s that he’s with someone at all. You see, he has a chance to change the world, and he needs to take it. But him being here and getting this information almost guarantees he’s not going to do as I tell him. This is more or less a complete waste of my time, and yours, and his.”
“You’re right; this is a waste of all our time,” Liddell says. “You want him to screw some dame and what, get her pregnant?”
My eyes widen as I try to start putting pieces together. It makes sense why Moses would want me to pitch woo with a dame, but how my bedding a woman would change the world continues to escape me. I have a lot of questions, but I have no intention of being thrown out by Liddell.
“Yes,” Moses says. “The progeny from Thomas Baxter would be among many who would eventually go out and start the world forward from the backward ideals people hold.”
“You’re going to have to explain to me how that works,” Liddell says, pulling a cigarette from the pack in his front pocket.
Moses smiles. “I‘m sorry, Sergeant, there’s only so much I can explain. There are truths Detective Baxter is going to have to figure out for himself.”
Liddell looks back at me and I shrug in response. Moses didn’t give me much to work with, but he certainly guaranteed I will never have a child. While the idea of a rugrat crawling around my feet and growing to be a respectable young man is enticing, I’m not sure how I feel about being a father. The best any child of mine would become is a little better off than I.
“If we’re done here,” Moses continues, “I’m about ready to be taken to jail. Thomas has all the information he’s going to get from me, and that means it’s time for me to be put behind bars.”
Liddell scratches his head and leans in close to Moses. “Why are you so eager to be put in jail?”
“A deal is a deal, and I don’t break my word for any reason.”
I stifle a snicker as I remember Moses only minutes before trying to weasel his way out of our deal. Any reason, my ass; the idea of me being behind any corner with my heater is reason enough for him to want to be in jail. He’ll be safer there than in the streets.
I wave Liddell over and wait for him to come close enough for me to whisper. “Ask him if his goons will be a problem.”
Liddell nods and turns to Moses. “Will your goons be looking to break you out?”
Moses shakes his head. “They’ll come to talk to me, I know that much. But they won’t break me out without a direct order, and I’m not giving them that order.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’ll have to shoot them down.” Moses laughs as I believe he pictures it. “Those two won’t go to prison, so you’d have to kill them; but I can promise if you try, you will end up just as deep in the ground as them, and I like you, Sergeant Liddell.”
Liddell wrinkles his nose and steps back. “Forgive me if I’m not flattered.”
He moves and grabs Moses’s cuffs and lifts him to his feet. “Off I go then?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Liddell leads Moses from the interrogation room to the cells in the back. I don’t follow. I don’t feel I need to watch Liddell put Moses behind bars; I trust the man at least enough to do his job correctly.
Liddell emerges from the back and slaps me on the shoulder.
“You should take some time off and mourn your loss. I know you were out for blood when you realized Moses killed Brandon, and I’m not buying the story of you shooting off his finger as self-defence.”
He can see it in my eyes. I shot him without warning or cause. I don’t like what I did, but I can’t come clean about it.
“But that’s the only story I have, and it’s from the victim. I suppose I don’t have much of a choice but to believe it.” Liddell puts his finger in the centre of my chest. “That said, Baxter, if I get one more victim with your name on their lips, you’re going to be stripped of your licence and put behind bars. You get me?”
I nod. “I get you.”
“Good. Now go home. I’m going to call the Ares Corporation and let them know you’re taking a few days off to bury your brother. I’ll make sure the case stays yours too. You can thank me later.”
“You can count on it.”
I turn and walk to the exit.
“Hey, Baxter!”
I stop and turn slightly, so Liddell is only just in my sight. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
I can’t help but smile at the sentiment. “Thank you.”
I turn back to the exit and walk out the doors.
***
When I get back to my office, the last thing on my mind is to have a drink. I look at the bottles of hooch and put them in the bottom drawer of my desk. I take a seat and I load paper into my typewriter.
I lean back in my chair as I think about the words I want to put on the page. I sigh and pull out a cigarette. My throat has gone raw from the number of snipes I’ve been sucking through the past couple of days. My voice has gone hoarse with a harsh rasp to it.
I lean forward and place my fingers on the keys, the words still not entirely present. Regardless, I press the first letter, then the next and then the next.
To: Whomever it may concern,
This investigation has gotten to be much for me, and I’m not sure how much more of it I’ll be able to take. The questions I have scrape at the laws of reality, and I’ve begun to wonder if I’ve started to lose my mind. If that’s the case, then you finding my body is for the best.
The thought of someone finding the note on my corpse sends a shiver down my spine and a dread I haven’t felt in a very long time. I decide a drink isn’t such a bad idea and pull out a bottle of hooch and a tumbler glass. I pour half a glass and take a drink.
All that said, despite feeling as if I’m losing it, I know full well I’m saner than ever. Moses’s confessions saw to it. His confession also saw to make sure I never go through with their plans. I’m going to fight tooth and nail to find them and make sure justice is served.
Howard Sutton
Helen O’Reilly
Moses Renault
Doctor Milton Hallowell
Those are the few I know to be a part of this conspiracy I’m having such a hard time figuring out. My mind is almost unable to handle the reality that I’ve not only been fooled but have seen a dead man walk. I’m not sure any man could take such a reality.
I think the most perplexing of all is that no matter how many resources I throw at the problem, no matter how much time and energy I expend to solve the case, I still have no idea what’s going on. With each passing day, I find myself coming closer and closer to accepting that I might not be able to solve it.
It’s not that I’ve never had to abandon a case before. More than a few times, a case went cold, and no new clues presented themselves. It happens, but I put my all into making sure nothing goes unnoticed. In this case, though, it’s too much. I probably should have told Liddell to get the case transferred to someone else.
But that wouldn’t be the sort of move I’d make.
If you’re reading this note, I’ve died. Either by my own hand or by theirs. I’m not willing to take the chance, so I’m leaving this letter in the top drawer of my desk. If you’re a real person reading this . . . I’m not exa
ctly sure what you can do. Probably nothing, but it feels better just to type it out.
If you’re one of THEM, then you can weep knowing you failed. I didn’t do as you demanded, and I never will again.
Until the next life,
Thomas Baxter, P.I.
I fold the letter and place it in an envelope. I slide the note into the top drawer and stare at Genevieve’s desk, wishing she was here to give some words of encouragement. I’m off the case for a few days, at least until my brother is buried. I’ve lost every friend I had, and some weird cult is trying to get me to impregnate a woman.
I finish my cigarette and light another. I massage the area between my eyes and groan as I try to work out all the evidence. I laugh at the thought of evidence as I haven’t got anything close to it. I have a dead man walking around and a slowly-growing congregation of people I know around him. Apart from that, I haven’t got anything. They manage to stay three steps ahead of me, knowing where I’m going and what I’m going to do.
The telephone rings, pulling me out of my thoughts. I pick up the horn and bring it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Detective Baxter? It’s Fredri – err, Doctor Grierson.”
“Doctor, what did you find?”
“You were right,” he says, his voice low and a little panicked. “There was nothing wrong with your brother. No poisons in his blood, no aneurysm, even his lungs were better than most. I honestly have no idea what to make of it.”
I sigh and resist the urge to berate the doctor for not following my orders. I hold my tongue, though. I regret dragging Fredrick into this.
“It was a poison,” I say. “The killer confessed; he says it was a very rare poison from Africa. I don’t know how it works, but it apparently leaves no trace. Mystery over; you can go home. Consider your debt paid.”
The silence on his end is louder than he realizes.
“What’s going on?” he asks. “From what I know of you, you wouldn’t ever pass up a mystery like this.”
I nod as I pull out the letter I just finished and shred it. “Normally yes, but not this time. I quit the case.”
Dead Man Walking Page 15
