A Good Killing

by Allison Leotta

  She laughed. He put his hands on her hips and brought his mouth to her stomach. His lips left an electric trail on the hollow of her belly.

  She ran her hands over his shoulders, then pushed him back on the bed. She was dizzy with the excitement of meeting a new lover. She hadn’t done that many times in her life, and doing it with an old friend felt like a new adventure. They explored each other until she was out of breath and aching for him. He pulled her on top of him, and she looked into his clear blue eyes. What a luxury, to do something just because it felt good.

  “No one will get hurt,” she said. “This is just two friends having fun.”

  “This is totally fun.”

  She slipped him inside her, groaned, and, for few minutes at least, stopped making rules.

  44

  When Jody came home from work, Anna was in the kitchen, washing fresh vegetables for a salad and humming “Girl on Fire.” Through the window, Anna could see Cooper out in the backyard, grilling. Sparky sat on his foot. The sight made her smile.

  Jody walked into the kitchen, set her bag on the table, and looked at her sister. “You guys finally did it, didn’t you?”

  Anna laughed. “What makes you think that?”

  “You’re humming. Your cheeks are pink. And you look happier than you have since you got to Michigan.”

  Anna set an heirloom tomato on the cutting board and turned to her sister. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “We did it.”

  “Eee!” Jody ran over and grabbed Anna’s hands and they did the same little dance they used to do when they were excited about something in elementary school. “I take it it was pretty good?”

  “Amazing.”

  “Hee hee.”

  “I’m just, you know, worried I’m going to break his heart when I leave.”

  “Oh, stop. He wants the same chance to have his heart broken as a guy with two legs. Besides, look on the bright side, maybe he’ll break yours.” Jody lowered her voice. “How is he . . . down there?”

  “Impressive.”

  “Good. I wondered if that was affected by the bomb.”

  “But listen.” Anna glanced outside and saw Cooper transferring the meat from the grill to a plate. He threw a piece to Sparky, who jumped up and caught it in his mouth. “I don’t know where I should sleep tonight. First off, I don’t want to abandon you.”

  “No offense, sis, but if I had as much chemistry with a man as you have with Cooper, there’s no way I’d be in bed with you.”

  “Thanks,” Anna said. “But, I don’t know, there’s a broader issue. Like, we’re living in his house already. I don’t know how this works. There isn’t room for the traditional let’s-see-each-other-a-couple-nights-a-week dating sort of thing.”

  “Nope,” Jody grabbed a slice of cucumber and popped it in her mouth. “This is definitely not textbook. But here’s how I see it. This trial has taken you away from your life, your job, and your friends. You’re isolated out here in the middle of postindustrial nowhere, trying to clear your dumb-ass sister from a murder charge.”

  “Hey, you’re not a dumb-ass.”

  “Whatever. Take your pleasure where you can find it, Annie. You’re here. He enjoys you. You enjoy him. Until one of those things changes, just go with it. Right?”

  Anna shook her head. “How do you make everything so simple?”

  “Everyone has their talent.”

  Cooper walked in carrying a plate of barbecued chicken. He looked at the sisters, huddled together by the veggies. “Uh-oh. What are you two conspiring about?”

  “Just discussing what a ridiculously lucky guy you are.” Jody nodded approvingly at him. “Well done, Coop.”

  “I am lucky.” He kissed Anna softly on the lips, making her cheeks flush with heat. “Let’s eat.”

  That night, Anna went to sleep in Cooper’s new bed, spooned in his arms. He intertwined his fingers with hers and held her hand to her heart. His lips brushed her ear as he described the agricultural efficacy of ladybugs. She slept better than she had in months.

  • • •

  Jody’s approval of Anna’s romantic development didn’t translate into agreement on legal strategy, however. She still refused to let Anna blame Wendy at the trial. Anna said, “Without that, I don’t know what our defense will be.”

  They brainstormed, without coming up with any viable options. Jody asked if an alibi would be helpful. Anna reminded her that court rules prohibited attorneys from putting on any evidence they knew was false. “Besides, you already told the police you were with the coach that night. An alibi would just mean you lied to them,” she said. And me, she thought.

  Over the next week, a few women contacted Anna and spoke to her about being sexually assaulted by the coach. Their stories were similar to Jody’s. Many were prepared to testify at trial, if the judge allowed it. Anna warned them that their testimony would likely be excluded. In the meantime, she helped them find counselors.

  Kathy came over for dinner one night. Over spaghetti with meatballs they talked about the upcoming trial. “You know, I saw the coach at the casino a lot,” Kathy said. “He was a big gambler. Always at the high roller’s table.”

  Anna made a mental note to follow up with a subpoena to the casino. “Thanks. Anything that shows that he was in debt is helpful.”

  Kathy said, “There was a guy who threatened him once.”

  Anna stopped, a forkful of spaghetti midway to her mouth.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was on a bathroom break, and I passed Coach Fowler in the hallway. I knew who he was, but the coach didn’t know me. This man came over and jacked Coach Fowler up against a wall. He said, ‘If you don’t pay up, you’re dead. You’ll be an example to everyone else.’ Then he punched him in the stomach and walked away. The coach looked like he’d shit his pants. I asked him if he wanted me to get help but he said no.”

  Anna glanced at Cooper, then Jody. They looked as surprised as she felt.

  “Did anyone else see this?” Anna asked.

  “No, just me. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you before.”

  “What did the guy look like?”

  “He had black hair that was in a widow’s peak, and a scar through one eyebrow. He wore a black leather jacket.”

  “An extra from Get Shorty threatened the coach.” Cooper met Anna’s eyes, and she saw her own reaction reflected in his face. She appreciated that she wasn’t alone in her skepticism.

  She thanked Kathy and told her she’d get back to her. But Anna wouldn’t call her as a witness if she could help it. She didn’t know who she would call. Five months until the trial, and she still didn’t know what her defense would be.

  • • •

  Over the following months, Jody continued going to work. When her belly started getting in the way, GM let her move from the assembly line to a desk job. She bought maternity clothes and a body pillow to drape her legs over at night, trying to stay comfortable as she got bigger.

  Anna did her USAO work at the table in Cooper’s living room and occasionally helped him on the farm. She got to know De’Andre, Lamar, and the neighbors who had plots in his garden. She used to think Cooper might feel isolated out here, but she realized he was at the center of a community of people who were trying to make the city better.

  With every person who told her how smart or creative Cooper was, she felt a little burst of pride. It was not the feeling a woman got with a friend she was “just having fun with.” It was the pride of ownership. She tried to shake herself out of it. He wasn’t hers, and she wasn’t his. This was just a fling until she went back to D.C. But she found that talking to Cooper over coffee in the morning was her favorite part of the day. Each time she looked up from her computer and saw him working outside with Sparky, it made her smile. She admired what he was doing with his lif
e, and she appreciated that his presence made hers richer. If she didn’t know better, she would think she was falling for him. Obviously, she wasn’t. It was just a fling.

  Every afternoon, after her prosecutorial work for the USAO was done, she transitioned into defense attorney mode and worked on Jody’s case. Cooper occasionally came with her, when she needed a witness present for conversations. On lunch breaks, he would take her to see unexpected parts of the city: Eastern Market, a vibrant district filled with fresh food, flowers, and antiques; the Heidelberg project, a house covered in stuffed animals.

  Anna went with Jody to her seemingly endless round of ob-gyn appointments. They learned that the baby was going to be a girl, and Jody hooted with glee. She soon went from looking voluptuous, to looking pudgy, to looking unmistakably pregnant. She and Anna took a prenatal class together. Anna wanted to throw her a baby shower, but Jody didn’t want one—yet. “You can throw me a shower once I’m allowed to attend without an ankle bracelet.” Anna hoped that wouldn’t mean when Jody was in prison.

  When the nights grew colder, Cooper started building fires in the fireplaces to help heat the big old house. At night, he and Anna lay beneath a big white feather blanket and found increasingly enjoyable ways to keep each other warm. The embers glowed orange in the fireplace.

  • • •

  In early December, Anna got a letter from Detective Rob Gargaron, setting a time when she could go to the police storage facility and view the items from Jody’s search warrant. She arrived at the appointed time with Cooper. It was a warehouse in the commercial district. Inside, Rob was waiting for them.

  “Hey, Coop. You’re a criminal investigator now?”

  “Yep. Not sure if it’s a promotion or demotion from urban farmer.”

  Rob glanced at Anna. “Seems to have some nice benefits.”

  He led them past metal shelves covered with boxes and paper bags. In an open space in the middle of the warehouse sat a table covered in items that the police had taken from Jody’s house. Ironically, these were the only items that survived the fire.

  Cooper took pictures, as Anna walked around, looking at everything. A baseball bat. Some pots and pans. The pillowcases and blankets that had been on Jody’s bed. The washing machine, kitchen sink, pipes, and toilets sat on the concrete floor. The remnants of a life that had gone up in flames.

  “Was the coach’s blood found in or on any of these?” she asked Rob.

  “You’ll get a full report,” he said. “But the short answer is: no. Not a trace.”

  Thank God.

  “I did get a report on the bedsheets,” Anna said, “and no semen or hair from the coach was found on the those, right?”

  “Yup.”

  She got to a part of the table that held Jody’s sports trophies. Twenty-three in total. For a short time, Jody had been a promising runner and one of the best high jumpers in the state. This accomplishment had been important enough to Jody that she’d kept these awards from ten years ago, lugged them with her from apartment to apartment till she settled in her house. The golden girls were frozen atop faux wooden or marble stands.

  “Any blood on these? Hair or fibers of note?”

  “Nope.”

  Anna remembered when Jody won some of these. There was third place in the hundred-meter dash in Northville, and a big silvery cup for the remarkable time that Jody, as a freshman, had placed sixth in the state at the high jump. But Anna didn’t see the trophy Jody treasured most, from the time in 2004 when she’d broken Anna’s school record for high jump, during a track meet in Flint. Anna looked once, then twice, and a third time just to be certain. It was not there.

  “Is this everything?” Anna asked Rob.

  “Yup. You looking for something else?”

  “Nope.” She turned to Cooper. “I think we’re done here.”

  He nodded and put the camera back in his pocket.

  Rob walked them out. “You’ll see another report, too, in a couple days. They tested the old rape kits in the six sealed cases. Leapfrogged them right in front of older ones in the backlog. Amazing what a little publicity can do. Anyway, Coach Fowler’s semen was found in three of those kits. It wasn’t present in one. And in two, including Jody’s, the kit itself was so badly degraded, the swabs were unusable.”

  “Unusable how?”

  “You should see where they were stored. Water dripping from the roof, mold growing on the boxes. Plus the natural degradation of DNA over time. It’s a wonder they got a profile on three.”

  Anna shook her head. “That is appalling.”

  “It is. And let me tell you something,” Rob said. They reached the small, empty waiting area. “From here on out, it’ll only get harder for you. You poked a hornet’s nest. Look for when they come flying at you.”

  “Is that a threat?” Cooper said, putting his hands on his hips.

  “Furthest thing from it.” Rob brushed his thumb across his mustache. “Just some words of advice from someone who’s been in this little corner of the world longer than either of you. Watch your back, Anna.”

  She searched Rob’s face and found no malevolence there. But Cooper took a step forward, fists clenched at his side. She put a hand on his arm and felt his muscles coiled with tension. She hoped Cooper wouldn’t have a PTSD episode here. She patted his arm gently, recalling the poking that Sparky did. Cooper looked at her, took a deep breath, and seemed to shake himself. His voice was low and controlled as he said, “I’ll be watching her back, too.”

  Rob nodded. “Glad to hear it.”

  45

  When I went to Screecher’s the second time, I tried a different tack. Instead of a push-up bra, I wore a minimizing one. I braided my hair into two long Heidi-like braids. I wore a tiny checkered skirt, a tight Holly Grove High School tank, and white Keds. My getup basically screamed “jailbait.”

  This time, Coach’s eyes got a little rounder when I approached. His voice got a little huskier as we talked. His knee inched closer to mine, all on its own. Grady watched in disapproving silence. He wasn’t the only one. The other people at the bar were very interested. I felt them watching but ignored them. Coach did too, and he loved it.

  At the end of the night, though, when I tried to close the deal, Coach dissed me again. Politely and all, in a way that let me know he enjoyed the attention. But he left me there at the bar. Just shook his head with a rueful smile when I whispered that I’d like to meet up with him a bit later, when everyone wasn’t watching. I watched him drive away in his Corvette.

  It was definitely the power thing. No matter how I dressed, no matter how flat I smushed my boobs against my chest, I was twenty-five years old. I looked it. Most of all, I felt it—and the coach felt it too. I wasn’t awed by him, or scared. And so he wasn’t turned on.

  I realized he was never inviting me into his Corvette again.

  The next time I went to Screecher’s, a couple days later, I brought a Visine bottle full of GHB with me. I chose GHB because there were multiple reasons for it to be in his blood. Everyone knew that Coach Fowler was obsessed with keeping in shape as he got older. And, in addition to being the date-rape drug of choice for high school boys, GHB is used by bodybuilders to grow muscle. As you saw, it was plausible that the coach was using it himself.

  Cooking the GHB was the easy part. You can get the recipe on the Internet. The ingredients are legal industrial solvents, available for purchase from specialty stores. The hard part was getting it into Coach Fowler.

  By that third night in Screecher’s, he greeted me like an old friend. I sat on the stool next to him, talked football, and waited for my chance. It wasn’t easy. He liked to hold his tumbler of whiskey as he spoke, his fingers tracing the rim. He liked to take the final sip from each glass before he went to the bathroom.

  When the coach’s fourth whiskey came, I asked if he would show me his trophies. His e
yes shone; he said he would love to. As he got up and turned his back to me, I leaned over the bar, like I was going to get a napkin, and I squirted the GHB into his tumbler. My heart pounded, but I was pretty sure no one saw. I grabbed a napkin for cover, then followed Coach to the case, where I provided the proper oohs and aahs to each of the trophies.

  When we sat back down, he took a nice long swig of his drink. Then he held up the glass to the light and studied the golden liquid. I almost panicked, worrying that he noticed the taste. But he was several drinks in at that point. If he did notice anything, he ignored it. He just kept going.

  Ten minutes later, he was slurring his words. Ten minutes after that, his eyes were fluttering shut, and his head was drooping onto the bar.

  “Coach,” Grady said. “Coach, you okay?’

  Coach mumbled something about wanting to go home. Grady said he’d call a car.

  “No, that’s okay,” I said, helpfully. “I’ll take him home. I’m fine to drive.”

  Grady scowled—I’m pretty sure he wanted to be the one I took home—but helped me take Coach to the car. It’s a good thing he did, because Coach was heavy, and his own legs weren’t doing much in the way of holding him up. We fished the keys out of his pocket and got him buckled into the passenger seat. Then I went around to the other side. I slid into the car and took a deep breath as I got behind the wheel.

  The purr of the motor took me back ten years. I shut the door and sat there for a moment. I looked over at Coach, whose head was bobbing forward. It was the same car where he raped me, ten years earlier. But I was finally the one in the driver’s seat.

  Grady was still standing on the sidewalk as I pulled the Corvette out of the parking lot. I rolled down the window and waved into the warm night. “Bye! Thanks!”

  Then we were out on the road, just me and the coach, driving into the darkness. Coach’s head knocked quietly against the side window with each bump in the road. He was fully passed out. We approached the high school, empty and dark, then passed it. I kept driving: through the remnants of downtown, then through the burbs, and finally onto the empty stretch of highway. Soon, the road was surrounded by trees.