Disk of Death

by Kim Smith

  I didn’t want Charlie to see what kind of car I climbed into, so I kept walking until I turned the corner. Then I waited until Dwayne drove down the street in the opposite direction and made a block.

  When he finally drew even with me and stopped, I scrambled inside, the trembling in my legs now reaching the rest of my body.

  “I was just about to call old Salivate and spill my guts. Damn, I was so freaked out,” he declared, roaring out of the neighborhood. “When I saw him set the rifle down…”

  “You saw that? And you didn’t do anything? Thanks. Thanks a lot, Dwayne. How could you leave me in there with him and his long, dangerous, flesh-eating rifle?”

  “I knew you’d be okay. I knew it. You’re like, fucking brilliant and shit. You da bomb, baby.”

  I gulped a lung-full of air, and avoided touching my face. “He licked me! I think I may puke.”

  Dwayne continued with his ranting. “I said to myself, if she don’t come walking down this street in five minutes, I gotta call the cops. Then I saw you. And that was some smart shit, walking past me like that. So I said, okay fine, she’s gonna act like she don’t know you, so you need to make a block and pretend like you ain’t got nothing to do with her.”

  “Dwayne Brown, when you get excited, you get nuts, did you know that? Shut up for a minute and listen!” I shouted.

  He shut up. The sudden quiet was unnerving.

  “Take me to the police station.”

  “Why? What did you find out?” The Energizer bunny kept going. “Did he tell you something about the murder? Did he threaten you? I’ll go back there and pop a cap up his ass if he-”

  “Shut up,” I said, pinching his arm. “Now.”

  He made a zipping motion to his mouth.

  “God. Okay, I need to get to the police station and have a fingerprint test done on my hand and arm. He grabbed me, and I know there’s something there they can get. And he licked me. Gross, gross, gross! They could get DNA from that I suppose. God, let me think. I didn’t get a chance to look for any evidence. But maybe all this shit on me will be good enough.”

  Dwayne wanted to say something. I could tell by the way he wiggled in his seat.

  Inside the police department, I asked which detective was on duty and was told Mr. Ramirez was on call. I paced for a moment or two. I didn’t want to face Sal now that it got down to it. He would be really pissed at me for getting involved in his case.

  I asked the front desk officer if there was anyone available who could do a fingerprint test on me.

  He tilted his head, curious. “Reckon so.”

  I smiled, trying to be disarming. “Great! Would you see to that for me?”

  He stood and leaned toward me. “Wanna tell me what this is about?”

  I glanced at Dwayne who shoved his hands in his pockets and turned his back. He didn’t care for police stations or their inhabitants. No help there.

  “Um. Sure. I sort of got into an altercation with someone who may be a murderer. I was interested in getting his prints taken off my hand or arm where he grabbed me. Or even a better test where he…um…kind of like…licked me.”

  The cop peered at me closer. “Your name Wallace?”

  I nodded.

  “Uh huh. Let me call Detective Ramirez. He’d be the one to handle this.”

  “If you must,” I muttered. Dwayne shook his head, looked at his shoes, and joined me in the waiting room chairs while the cop called Sal. I couldn’t hear his side of the conversation but he kept looking at me and nodding.

  While we waited, I cleaned out my purse, tossing tissues and gum wrappers and collecting change that had been thrown into the bottom randomly. Dwayne watched through half-slitted eyes until the door opened and the night air ushered in the sleepy detective.

  “Evening,” I said, rising. Dwayne slowly joined me.

  Sal stopped in front of us, inclined his head, and put his hands on his hips. “I know I’m going to be sorry for asking, but what are you two doing here, and what is all this about fingerprints?”

  Dwayne sat back down. He was such a chicken.

  “I went to Charlie Fine’s house, and we had an argument. He grabbed my hand and my arm, and I want you to get his fingerprints off. I don’t care what you say; he’s guilty, and these prints will most likely match some you have from Rick’s apartment. He also got his saliva on my-”

  Sal rolled his eyes and blurted out, “Why do you persist?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head, and then motioned for us to go up the stairs to his office.

  Dwayne followed last, completely silent. I kept looking back to make sure he didn’t ditch me again. I caught his eye. He looked horrible. I wondered if he was afraid we were going to be arrested. He frowned, waving for me to go up, and to quit looking at him.

  When we were seated in the office and the door was shut, Sal let us have it. “Shannon, I’ve asked you several times, nicely, to stay out of this case. I see you don’t listen.”

  I shrugged and didn’t reply.

  “Go on, keep it up. I ought to throw both of you in jail and hide the key.”

  This loosened my lips. “Do jail cells still have to have keys?”

  “This isn’t funny, Shannon. You’ve gotten into as much trouble for one lifetime as is allowed.”

  “I’m trying to help. I wanted to get something on Rick’s brother that could be concrete evidence to prove to you he’s the killer. Charlie knew where Joe lived, and Joe knew him. Joe would’ve opened the door and let Charlie in.”

  I sensed Dwayne’s body growing tense.

  “So you go playing cop? ¿Estás loca?” Sal growled, jamming a hand through his hair.

  “Uh huh, that’s what I’m saying,” Dwayne whispered.

  I elbowed Dwayne, the turncoat. “No, I did not go off playing cop. I got evidence. Something that your department hasn’t tried yet.”

  “You got me nothing,” Sal said, shoving papers out of his way. “We already have his prints, for your information. You’ve done nothing but create trouble for yourself, for me, and for this case.”

  I hoped Dwayne would offer a little support, but he only let his gaze roam the room.

  I cleared my throat, fearing my voice would fail. “You mean, you had his prints the whole time? Did they match anything at Rick’s?”

  “Not that you need to know, but no, they didn’t.” Sal peered at me through tired, red eyes. “That’s what I’ve been trying to explain to you for some time now. Charles Fine is not the damn killer.”

  I gazed at him and suddenly understood. He couldn’t tell me the details, but he had his own suspect. And his instincts, which probably were more correct than mine, were leading him in a different direction. He knew something discounting Charlie, and he was trying to let me know in the only way he could honorably, and maybe even legally, do so.

  I was as wrong as wrong could be.

  My lower lip quivered. I didn’t know what to say. The range of emotions must have shown on my face because Sal softened his voice.

  “Fine is not guilty. Drury was a good suspect, but now he’s dead, so once more, I’m forced to start over. I think you’re a facet in this diamond since the killer seems to be fixated on you. First your car, then your apartment, but I still don’t know how it all fits.”

  He plopped down one hip on the edge of his desk. “Look, I’m working on it. Please, please, just let me do the dangerous work, and you do the job of staying alive until I can find this nut.”

  The last sentence was a plea.

  “So if I’m gettin’ what you’re droppin’, then you don’t know who’s knifin’ these folks?” Dwayne asked.

  “No, I’m not saying that. We have some leads. But that is all I will say,” Sal answered. “Mr. Brown, take her home, and keep the two of you out of this mess, how about it?”

  Dwayne nodded and tugged on my purse. “Come on, Wall-ass. Plain to see we’re taking up space needed for more important stuff.” />
  I moved numbly. It finally sank in. Charlie was not the killer. The cops had known all along. Sal had tried to shut me up when I’d piped on about Charlie, but I was too involved to listen.

  And if Charlie was innocent, who was guilty?

  Before we walked out into the night air, Sal reminded us that a cop would be watching us and pointed into the lot where our new guardian angel waited.

  “Great. Thanks,” I said. “This is just great.”

  “You already know,” Dwayne whispered.

  Sal mumbled a weary goodnight and returned inside.

  “Ramirez is right. We gotta stop getting all up in this police shit. I know you think you did right, but seeing it from his perspective, it wasn’t a good plan.”

  “Oh, thanks a lot,” I grouched. “You started this whole thing tonight after a brick nearly smacked you, if I remember right. You even drove me to do the dirty deed, and now you’re going to be on his side? Maybe I need to go home to my apartment.”

  “Fuck that. You ain’t going out of my sight. Didn’t you hear what that man said? He put me in charge of you. Damn if I’m letting you go anywhere that I can’t be, ‘cept maybe the bathroom. I did enough damage tonight as it is.”

  “I need to clean, Dwayne. I clean when I’m upset.”

  “Clean? Lord God.” He fell silent, thinking. “All righty then, I’ll take you to your apartment in the morning, and you can clean a little. But if there’s anything unusual there, you ain’t staying. I don’t relish getting stabbed, shot, or blown up, and I don’t want to have to see you in that state either.”

  I glared at him.

  “Don’t be giving me no eyes. You know I’m right. And besides, I can’t stay very long ‘cause I got some investigating work of my own to do in the morning.”

  Relieved that he had agreed, I decided to change the subject. “What’s going on with your case? Have you made any headway with that?”

  He shook his head. “This woman, Redmon’s wife? Well, she’s a strange goose. Wears army clothes and wears her hair real military-like. Personally, I don’t know what he sees in her ass.”

  I recalled Redmon’s face. The feeling must be mutual between them because I didn’t know what she saw in him either.

  “Dwayne, now that you have a real paying client, I think you need an office. I think if you’re expecting people to take you seriously with all this private dick stuff, you need a place to work from.”

  “Private dick?” he laughed. “That sounds sexual.”

  “Just for you, Brown. Only for you.”

  After Dwayne fell asleep, I grabbed his car keys from the coffee table and let myself out of the trailer. The cop car parked across the street spoke to me with its presence. Nestled under a tree between two trailer homes, the shiny police cruiser could hardly be considered conspicuous. I shrugged insolently and slipped into the Mustang. Her loud pipes throbbed in the night air. I hoped Dwayne snored and couldn’t hear. He could stop me, but he probably wouldn’t.

  There was no way to escape the tail, but maybe I could lose him by using Dwayne’s methods of quick turns and fast driving. A woman on a mission, I had to go to Rick’s apartment. Thoughts of what I could do or what I might find had kept me awake.

  I struggled between wanting Dwayne for protection and not wanting him tagging along in case there remained more of my videos there. Without him, I became that crazy person in a movie that went out at night alone knowing that a killer roamed around. But if he came along and there were more videos, he would only want to watch them. That would be too embarrassing.

  Embarrassment won.

  Exiting the trailer park, the cop slid in behind me. I acted the part of the perfect driver. It wasn’t hard keeping the car at the posted speed limit, but I knew I couldn’t keep it up, this guy had to get lost. I couldn’t risk his following me to Rick’s apartment. Fear of the murderer and fear of exposure did battle for a few minutes. The murderer lost. I had my tote bag, and I had my gun. I also had the key to Rick’s apartment and I intended to use it.

  I drove down Greenman and turned on Crease Road, making a quick left into Grohlstein’s lot. The drugstore had a drive-up window for pharmacy customers, and I pretended to be going there. At the last minute, I roared past that side of the building and made a quick left around the other side.

  The cop, surprised to see me trying to shake him, accelerated.

  I flew through the parking lot, and veered back onto Greenman headed west. Then turning right down Davis Road, I sent the Mustang into her highest speed. It was a matter of a quick left and then a quick right, and I had left the cop behind.

  Ah, the element of surprise.

  Once I was back onto Greenman, I headed to Rick’s apartment, parked on the opposite side of his building, and hurried around to his door.

  Thankfully, the late hour meant Yoshi would be asleep.

  I slipped the key into the lock and let myself in.

  The silence bore down on me like a blanket, smothering and dark. I walked forward and turned on the small lamp on the end table.

  I touched the back of the couch with my fingertips and stopped. My eyes scanned the room, pausing only a second on the brown stain in the center of the carpet. My gaze found the entertainment center. The light illuminated a fine powder, which had been dusted over the flower arrangements, a statue of Buddha, and a framed picture of Rick, myself, and his best friend, Joe Drury.

  I swallowed hard and sidestepped the living room, refusing to go near where Rick had breathed his last. I went down the hall to the bedroom.

  When I entered the closet, I noted the cheap tripod staring back at me. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate before proceeding with my search. I moved the tripod aside and pulled on the antique armoire standing on the right under the hanging rod. It was difficult, but I finally got it to move enough to get to the wall safe behind it.

  I turned the knob left and right, thankful Rick always used his dead mother’s birth date for all his passwords and number codes. There was one SD card inside. I began to cry as I lifted it out. It had to be ours. Why else would it be in here?

  Protected.

  A surge of love for Rick went through me. He had tried to protect me. He didn’t give out our videos as Dwayne had suggested. Rick had been honorable.

  I shoved the card into my tote and left the closet without stopping again until I was back inside the Mustang. Then, the tears poured out of me, and I let them flow until I was spent. Once I had recovered enough to drive, I tried to decide what to do next.

  I couldn’t go to my apartment and pop the card into a reader without the cops nosing around wanting to know why I was there. My aunts’ house was totally out of the question, and there really wasn’t any place else to go.

  Resigned, I drove back to Dwayne’s trailer park. Before arriving at his trailer, I cut the Mustang’s lights and slid into the drive.

  The cop car glimmered dimly from its hiding spot, but he didn’t rush out to inquire anything of me. Sal had probably warned him off. I was thankful for this bit of good fortune and let myself into the trailer as quietly as I could. I replaced Dwayne’s keys and listened to the silence.

  He had not been disturbed during my absence so nothing to worry about.

  Relief is a great sleep aid, and I dropped off immediately, my purse clutched in one hand and my gun, unloaded, under my pillow.

  The next day, after a quick breakfast of honey buns and coffee, where I didn’t mention any of my nighttime activities, I drove Betsy, and Dwayne followed me home in the Mustang. We were both shadowed by a white unmarked police car who stayed pretty far back.

  We pulled into my complex and weaved back to my apartment. I looked up at my door. Yellow police tape draped it closed.

  “Sure you’re ready to do this?” Dwayne asked, slamming his car door.

  “Yep. Gotta get it done sooner or later.”

  “Maybe not today.” Did he sound frightened? I glanced at him. His face was impassive. />
  “No time like the present,” I reassured him, pulling my pistol out of my purse. It was still unloaded, so I stuck it in my pocket. He pulled his out of his ankle holster, and stuck it in his waistband. I didn’t ask, but I was pretty sure his had ammunition in it.

  We hurried up the stairs as the cop pulled into the lot.

  Taking a deep breath, I pushed the tape aside and shoved the door open. Daylight bathed the room from the front window. The disaster remained, but nothing more sinister than silence greeted us. We went from room to room checking under the bed, and in the closet, to make sure.

  “Okay, Wall-ass, you tidy up and all that jazz,” Dwayne said, as we walked into the kitchen.

  “You don’t have to help,” I told him.

  “I wasn’t. I’m going to head over to Redmon’s house to give him an update. I figure you can lock yourself in, and keep your cell handy. Maybe Sal won’t care if we’re separated in the daylight hours, especially with that cop

  downstairs.”

  I smiled. “Well, thanks for coming with me.”

  “I would stay but…” he trailed off, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at the mess in the living room. “This is kind of your private disaster, you know what I’m saying?”

  Translated? He needed space. The whole murderer-after-Shannon deal was spooking him. “No problem.”

  He left, and as soon as I felt it was safe, I grabbed the SD card out of my purse and shoved it under a load of underwear in a basket in my bedroom. Mysteriously, my unmentionables were ignored by the intruder. I wondered what kind of pervert he really was.

  I returned to the living room and the job at hand. The mess would take a while, but I had nothing else pressing at the moment.

  The empty trash can was sitting near the door, and I moved it back where it belonged into the kitchen. Black fingerprint dust coated everything. I grabbed my broom and dustpan to begin sweeping up all the glass. I bent, scooped, and stood eye-level with my mantle.

  It was then that I found the piece of material stuck to the wood. It was only a sliver really. I started to pinch it between my fingers, but thought better of it. This didn’t belong to me. I was obsessive about keeping my mantle clean.