by Baxter Clare
Cried at the cemetery today. Embarrassing as hell but it felt good. Like lancing an abscess and letting all the pus drain out. Felt clean when I was done. Raw, but clean.
This sobriety is a trip. Got to admit it's kind of interesting to see where it's going to take me next. Hell of a lot more interesting than sitting on my couch with one hand wrapped around a liter and the other around a 9-millimeter. Hey, Tm a fucking poet! Christ, what a life that was. Fucking sad. And crazy. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Mildly cirrhotic like dear old Da, and mildly mental like dear old Ma. Yeah, okay so maybe I fell close to the tree, but I landed on a hill, baby, and Tm rolling. Watch me—
CHAPTER 23
Frank put the pen down when her phone rang. The number on the screen was Gail's.
"Hey," Frank answered.
"Hey yourself. How's it going?"
"It's going. No match to the prints but we talked to the groundskeepers at the cemetery and they say the flowers are changed about every two weeks, so I'm staking the place out."
"Did they know who was leaving the flowers?"
"Nah. Whoever it is apparently comes during the weekend when they're off, so I still don't even know if it's a man or a woman. To show you how unobjective I am about this, Annie suggested maybe it was an old flame and I about came undone. In a normal case that probably would have occurred to me in five minutes, but here? No way. Still don't like the idea but I've braced myself for it. Promised Annie that if and when I see whoever it is, I won't talk to her. Or him. Just tail our mystery guest and let Annie do the interviewing. Least I can do, right? It's her case."
"Well, maybe you'll find him or her this weekend. Then you can come home."
"Maybe. With any luck."
"Would you like me to pick you up when you come in?"
"That'd be wonderful, if you have time."
"Let me know when and I'll see if I can swing it."
"You got it. Thanks. How you doing?"
"I'm okay. Tired. Wish I was still on vacation. Did you hear about Rodney Bentley?"
"The old anchor for KABC?"
"Yeah. During the last storm he called nine-one-one claiming his wife and two kids were trapped in a car that had gone off the road into the LA River. He said she'd called on her cell phone crying that they were being carried off by the current. Two hours later CHP retrieved the car with everyone dead inside. We did a routine autopsy but there wasn't any fluid in the wife's lungs, plus she has markings around her neck and petechial hemorrhage inconsistent with drowning. So it looks more like triple homicide than accidental death and the media's in a feeding frenzy. I even had a reporter waiting outside my apartment when I got home last night."
"Who caught the case?"
"The Sheriff's Department. Did Bobby tell you about the domestic you had?"
"Yeah. Said it was a slam dunk."
"How are they getting along without you?"
"Surprisingly well. Seems I'm completely expendable."
"Not completely."
"How so?"
After a long pause, Gail said, "I probably shouldn't say this, but I miss you."
"You do?"
"Yeah. A little."
"Only a little?"
"Don't push it."
"Yeah, I'm bad at that, huh?"
"You certainly are. But I had a good time with you. You were fun and easy to be with. Like the old Frank, but better."
"I had a good time, too. I almost called you a couple times but stopped myself. Don't want to push."
"A phone call's not pushing."
"No?"
"Um-um."
Gail sounded soft and willing. Frank wanted to reach through the line and hang on to her. To touch her, smell her, kiss her, make love to her . ..
"Are you there?"
"Yeah." Frank opened her eyes. "I'm here. How was the Phantom of the Opera}"
"Oh, my God, it was fantastic! It was so worth waiting for."
Frank couldn't stop herself from asking, "Did your friend from the frigid north enjoy it?"
"Yes, she did. Then we both went back to our respective hotels. Speaking of which, where are you staying?"
"Uh, I'm at Annie's. She's letting me stay in her guest room."
"My. That's convenient."
"Yeah, it is. Beats a hotel."
"I'll bet. Talk about chummy."
Gail didn't sound sweet anymore and Frank was happy that she cared enough to be worried about another woman.
"Is she a lesbian?"
"No. Not at all."
"What does she look like?"
"Annie? She's Italian. Thick salt-and-pepper hair. Conservative cut. Dark eyes. Great features. A little thick around the waist but fairly trim." Gail didn't say anything so Frank added, "She's handsome, but not nearly as beautiful as you."
Gail remained silent.
Frank looked at her phone, saw she was still connected. "You there?"
"I'm here," was the cool reply.
Frank couldn't resist teasing Gail. "So, this jealousy of yours. That a particular trait of sobriety?"
"Oh, please. Why would I be jealous? You're not even my girlfriend anymore."
"We could change that."
"I wouldn't want to interfere with you and Annie."
"There's nothing to interfere with. You gotta know my heart belongs to one gal."
"Hmph."
Frank chuckled, thrilled Gail cared so much. "Can I call you tomorrow?"
"If you're not busy. With Annie."
"I won't be. Try and get some sleep, okay?"
"I'll do my best."
" 'Kay. Good night."
"Night."
Frank hung up, trading phone for journal, smiling as she wrote.
CHAPTER 24
Gail just called. She misses me. Tadow! And she's jealous of Annie. Excellent. Means I’m still in the game. Like Robert DeNiro said in The Deerhunter, "One shot, Nicky. Just one shot."
That's what I’ve got. One shot to make this work. But if I’m patient and aim carefully, one shot is all I’ll need. Maybe I ought to kneel down and talk to Annie's statue. Get a little extra mojo going on. Call Marguerite James and get a juju bag. Went to a meeting tonight and someone said getting sober's like listening to a country-western song in reverse—you get your car back, you get your job back, you get your lady back. No shit. You get your life back. The one you're supposed to be living if you aren't busy horking your guts up over a toilet or sucking on a barrel.
Go figure. Anyway. Shouldn't get too excited yet. But missing me is good. Very good. Big step. Christ, I hope Tm not wrong about this. I want her back in the worst way. I want a second chance. May not deserve one but that won't keep me from wanting it. That's an interesting thing, wanting. I’ll never let myself do much of that. Too disappointing when I don't get what I want. But here I am, wanting Gail, wanting my dad's killer. Even weirder, if I don't get either one, I’ll still be okay. It's like nothing can ever be as bad as the Beretta in my mouth. Or picking up a drink. Nothing can ever hurt me as badly as that. Weird. I love her and I want her but if she says no, this isn't gonna work, than I’ll be sad but I’ll be okay. I’m not going to flip out. Still, I hope it's yes. Christ, I hope it's yes.
CHAPTER 25
Friday evening, as Frank opened the apartment door Annie was slipping her key into the lock.
"Oh! You scared me," Annie said, hand over her heart.
"Sorry. I was just heading out to dinner. Care to join me?"
"Where you goin'?"
"I don't know. Thought I'd wander around until I saw something that looked good."
"There's a great chop house couple blocks from here. It's expensive but good, and what the hell, it's Friday, right?"
"Sure. Your call."
"Terrific. Just give me a minute to change, huh?"
"Take your time."
Annie put her purse down and knelt for a quick, mumbled prayer. Frank discretely waited at the window. She watched the street while Annie changed
clothes.
"Ready," Annie called behind her, fussing with her purse. She was wearing a tunic sweater over slacks with pearl studs and a necklace. She'd touched up her makeup, too. She reminded Frank of someone but before she could put her finger on who, Annie told her, "Oh, hey. I got the report back on your prints. No match for 'em, I'm afraid."
"Damn." Frank sighed. "Oh, well. Guess I keep waiting."
"I guess so. Sorry."
"That's okay. At least the company's good."
They walked in the cold night and Annie asked, "Quiet out there today?"
"Couple funerals, handful of visitors, but nobody at the grave."
Annie puzzled, "What are you gonna do if this person don't show? You can't stay forever, right?"
"I was thinkin' of hiring a P.I. Know any good ones?"
"Sure. Charlie Mercer. He does private work. He'd probably do it for you."
"You're not just being biased?"
"Cookie, what you and I know together don't match what Charlie knows. Don't underestimate him just 'cause he's old."
"Just asking."
"I'll give you his number. You can talk to him. Cross here."
Annie cut through a knot of double-parked cars. Frank followed. As she squeezed between two sedans, a huge pit bull lunged from a front seat. The beast gnashed at a half-open window, growling in a frenzy of slobber and teeth. Frank spun, searching for her gun. It took a second to realize she didn't have it and another second to realize she didn't need it. The dog slavered at the air outside the window, but it was safely behind the glass.
Annie laughed, "Holy cannoli! He scared the crap outta me!"
Frank stared at the salivating brute.
"Hey." Annie tugged her sleeve.
Frank didn't move.
"Frank? Hey. Whatsa matter?"
Tearing her gaze from the dog long enough to glance at Annie, Frank answered, "Nothing."
"Nothing? You're white as a ghost. What's the matter with you? You afraid of dogs?"
"I'm okay."
"Come on." Annie pulled at Frank's arm again. "Look at you. You're shaking."
Frank crossed the street, wondering if her legs were going to hold her up. She felt queasy and stopped to lean against a building. She rubbed her right forearm.
"Did it bite you?" Annie asked.
Frank shook her head. "Long story." She took a couple deep breaths, willing the nausea away.
"You want I should get a cab?"
"No. I'm okay. Just... give me a sec. Catch my breath."
Frank tested her legs. Annie walked close beside her.
"I'm okay," Frank assured. "Not gonna keel over on you."
"You sure about that?" Annie was still peering at her. "For a minute there I thought I was gonna have to do CPR on you."
"Nah, I'm okay."
"Well, at least your color's back. You just drained, my friend. Looked like Dracula'd got hold of you."
"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
"Don't worry about it. I been scared worse."
The restaurant was at the end of the block. Annie opened the door for her and the first thing Frank saw was the bar. Under the aroma of seared meat the scent of liquor set her cells aquiver. She concentrated on the other patrons, eyeing them as if she'd have to write them up in a report. The hostess asked if they had a reservation.
Annie said, "No, hon, but we're just two. And my friend here needs to eat or she's gonna faint dead away."
After glancing at Frank, the hostess must have believed Annie. Grabbing two menus, she announced with a worried smile, "This way, ladies."
They settled at a table and Frank studied the menu. She couldn't help but pair each entree with the perfect wine and contemplated ordering dessert for dinner. But she'd been running on doughnuts and cookies all day so decided on sensible food, telling the waitress, "I'll have a dozen oysters on the half shell, the beet salad and onion rings."
"Very good," the waitress said. "As dinner or as appetizers?"
"Dinner."
"And to drink?"
A bottle of Chardonnay, Frank thought. Better yet two. "Water," she answered.
Annie ordered and after the waitress had brought her a glass of wine Annie asked, "So what's the story with the dog?"
Frank tore her eyes from the glass. "Weird case. We had this Santerfa priestess who we knew was offing people. First time I interviewed her she warned me about a red dog. I just laughed and forgot all about it. Couple weeks later this pit bull got loose near the station and latched onto my arm." She pushed up her sleeve to show Annie the scars. "Ripped into an artery and did some nerve damage. My thumb's still numb."
"Was the dog red?"
"Yep."
"Creepy."
"That wasn't even half of it. Got weirder. I had this like . . . vision while the dog was chewing on my arm. Of me and this Mother Love character. It was like we were adversaries doing battle in a different time and place. Very strange. I dismissed it as a by-product of shock but then it happened again. A couple times. Just this same vision of us dueling to the death. It was really vivid. And to tell the truth, it scared the hell outta me. At the same time, I had a witness in this case I was working against the Mother. But he was terrified to talk. He was sure she'd hexed him and that he was gonna die if he went against her. So to get him to testify we persuaded him that another priestess could undo Mother Love's hex, could turn it around so that he'd be protected from her. After I got him worked on by this priestess, she looked at me and said, 'I see Mother Love's hand all over you.' I laughed then, too."
Annie sipped her wine, distracting Frank. It was only her second sip. Frank would have been working on her second glass by now.
"And?" Annie prompted.
"And then I started having these visions all the time. I called Marguerite back—the good witch, we called her—and I let her do this cleansing ceremony on me. What the hell, right? Maybe there was something to it. Long story short, I was stupid and Mother Love ended up getting me alone in her warehouse. Had me strung up by my heels, ready to slit my throat and sacrifice me to one of her gods. Marguerite had said the Mother and I were in mortal combat and that the only way to beat her was to pray. Hanging there like a side of beef, you bet your ass I prayed. Strange so far, right?"
"You could say that."
"Gets better. I'm strung up there, totally helpless and I'm praying to this friend of mine, old partner. The other cops used to tease us. Said we had a Vulcan mind-meld thing going on. We knew each other so well we could usually anticipate what the other was going to do. So I'm calling him, trying to get him to feel my vibes, right, and come save my ass. I'm praying to Mickey Mouse, the spirit of Houdini, anybody who can get me outta this jam, and in busts my new detective. His ex-wife is the good witch. He knows all about this Santeria jive 'cause of his wife and growing up in Louisiana. But he's got a gift too. Told one of my other detectives where to find a forty-four she'd been looking for. Sure enough, it was in a fridge just like Darcy'd said it would be. Anyway, he comes in, big shootout, I guess—I'd passed out by then—and later in the hospital I ask him how the hell he knew where I was. See, I hadn't told anybody where I was going. No one could have known where I was. He said he just kept seeing the Mother's warehouse and had this overwhelming feeling that I was in trouble."
Frank sat back as the waitress brought their meals. Patting her napkin over her lap, Annie observed, "You sound like one lucky kitten."
Frank smiled. Annie didn't even know about the 9-millimeter.
"If I were you, I'd light a candle, making your guardian angel work overtime like that."
Slurping an oyster, Frank needled, "You believe in angels? They come with the Madonna?"
Annie jabbed a finger. "Let me tell you a story." Between bites of steak, she narrated. "When I was sixteen we went upstate for a vacation in the Catskills. I'm swimming in this lake. I love swimming. It's late afternoon, everyone else is either napping or eating another sandwich, whatever, and I decide t
o swim across the lake. No big deal. The lake's only about a half a mile wide and I was a good swimmer. Piece a cake, right? So off I go. I get across to the other side. It's nice and quiet, peaceful. I rest a while 'cause the water's pretty cold, then I start swimming back. Don't you know I get this cramp. That's okay, I've had cramps before, like a Charlie horse, you know. Get it in my thigh, so I float a minute and while I'm floating I get this huge cramp in the small of my back. My God, it's like I've been whacked with a sledgehammer. Of course my first instinct is to double over, right? Which I did. And I was so startled by the pain that I gasped and breathed in all this water. I tried to straighten up, get my head above water, but I couldn't. It was like my back was frozen. I tried rolling over but I couldn't stay afloat, couldn't keep my head up. As I was turning back down into the water I caught a breath, only it was more water than air and I started choking. I'm breathing in more water and thinking, oh, my God, I'm gonna freakin' die out here. This is it. I mean, time stopped. Everything was getting gray and I couldn't get my head outta the water." Annie held a finger over the plate of onion rings. "Think I could have one?"
"Oh, sure." Frank pushed the plate closer. "Help yourself. So what happened?"
"So what happened is, I feel this whack on my arm, like it's in a vise, right? And I get yanked. I break the surface and look up into this old woman's face. She's got wrinkles, long gray hair, and she's draggin' me over the side of the boat. Haulin' me in like a prize catch. And let me tell you, I ain't no lightweight. Not back then, neither. I'm sittin' there doubled over, coughin' my lungs out, shakin' like a leaf. She wraps this scratchy wool blanket around me—it stunk to high heaven. Mold, diesel fuel, and let me tell you I've never been so grateful for anything in my life than that rotten old blanket—I point and cough out where I live and she takes me to the shore. Helps me out, watches me walk up the path toward the cabin we was staying in. I tell my mother and my aunts what happened and they're practically hysterical. They spend the whole night making food for this woman and the next morning we all set off to find out who she is and where she lives."
