Burying Ben (25 page)

Eddie swipes at the air. “Fucking birds sound like b
u
llets.”

His
f
ace has lost the fluorescent pallor t
h
at co
m
es with years of working
m
i
dnights. I can
ba
rely s
e
e the netting of broken capillaries that co
v
er his nose and cheeks like a caul.

“I told you I was going to the Sierras. I got a friend at the Sheriff
’
s depart
m
ent.” He draws quotation
m
arks in the air around
the
w
ord ‘friend’. “Owes
m
e big ti
m
e. Stopped him
for DUI
a couple of years ago.
H
e was down here in the big city taking his girlfriend out to din
n
er while his
w
i
fe stayed h
o
m
e
w
ith the kids. I re
m
e
mber becau
s
e the girlfriend had a face like forty
m
iles of bad road. I l
e
t him
off because he was a c
o
p. Perks of the job. He pulled the case file on Ben. Usual pro
c
edure is to investiga
t
e
an
unattended
death,
m
ake sure so
m
ebody didn’t off the vic and
m
ake it look like suicide.”

He takes a swig of coffee and wipes his s
h
irt
s
lee
v
e o
v
er his
m
outh. “No surprise, they did a shitty investigation, didn’t look for prints, hai
r
, fibers, nothing. The
m
otel room’s been repainted and back in service. Anyth
i
ng they
m
i
ght have overlooked is gone.”

“I don’t understand. Are you saying Ben was
m
u
rdered and so
m
eone covered it up
?
”

“You’ve seen too
m
any movies. All I’m
saying is that the S.O. did a shitty job. I read the coroner
’
s report. It
’
s a 1000 to one that
Ben did himself. No
one could
’
ve forced him
into bed and
m
ake him
shoot hi
m
self in t
h
e head. He wasn’t
m
uch of a fighter, but the survival instinct would have taken ov
e
r. Even a wuss like him
would have put up a helluva fight. Made such a
m
ess those Key
s
tone cops couldn
’
t have
m
i
ssed it if they tried.” He waits for a response. “So, what do you think
?
”

“Frankly, I
’
m flabbergasted. I can
’
t believe you went to all this trouble
f
or
m
e.”

“I didn
’
t do it for you, I did it for
m
e.” He shifts forward on t
h
e little wrought iron patio chair, looking like Horton the elephant balancing on a f
l
ower. “I haven’t had this much fun in years. Beats rolling up on a coup
l
e of crack heads who
b
eat the crap out of each other every nig
h
t.
W
i
sh Baxter had given
m
e more time on the beach, so I could nose around a little
m
ore.”

“For what.”

“I nev
e
r did get to talk to
the
m
otel owner, only his wife, and she was pretty fucked up, nipping at a ther
m
os.
W
a
sn’t cof
f
ee, I can tell you that. Takes one to know one.” He raises his eyebrows. “She said she and her old
m
an were in the back watching TV and boozing. They never heard the shot.
W
h
en she went up to clean the room
she found his body. Nasty shock. My hunch is she
traded it in for a three day drunk.”

“Did she say
anything el
s
e?”

“Yeah, she had an interesting observation. S
a
id if she was married to, and I quote, ‘th
a
t little bitch’, sh
e
’d
b
e
m
ore inclined to com
m
it ho
m
icide than s
u
ici
d
e. See
m
s April ca
m
e banging into the office de
m
anding
m
ore
bottles of shampoo or so
m
e
shit like that. Caused a big commotion. Not that she disturb
e
d the other patrons of this flea bag. There weren’t
any
others.
Not
exac
t
ly your four-star hotel.”

“April was with hi
m
?
”

“Unless he’s fooling around with another short, blonde, pregnant wo
m
an. The motel owners never saw her after the shampoo rampage and don’t know what ti
m
e she left. She wasn’t around when the wife found
Ben’s body and neither was their car.”

“So what should I do now
?
” I can hardly
believe I’m
asking Eddie Ri
m
b
a
uer for advice.

“Why ask me?
I barely
m
ade it out of high school. You’re the one with the Ph.D.” He leans forward suddenly, his face b
a
rely
ten inc
h
es from
m
ine. His breath coffee wa
r
m
.
“
W
hat’s up with you?
So
m
eth
i
ng’s not right. You’re not going to off yourself too, are you
?
”

“Just the opposite. I’m
try
i
ng to find a way to live with
m
yself. I
’
ve never had a client commit suicide before, and I’m
not cop
i
ng with it too well.” I take a sip of coff
e
e. It’s gone cold. “How do you cope
?
”

“Me?
Booze, sex and a lot of overti
m
e. I don’t recom
m
end
i
t
.” He runs his fingers around the rim
of his e
m
pty cup. “I always wondered what shrinks do when they need help.
T
alk to yourself in the
m
i
rror?”

“Talk to friends, colleagues, f
a
m
ily. S
a
m
e as everyone else.”

“Bullshit. If
you did, you wouldn
’
t be talking to
m
e.”

“I feel responsible for his death. I
m
i
ssed so
m
ething. And I’m not the only one who thinks so. I need to know what happen
e
d. He was
m
ad
a
t both of us, but, unless I’m absolutely deaf, du
m
b and blind, he wasn’t suicidal. “

“Get over yourself, Doc.
W
hat’s done is
done. You can
’
t f
i
x it.
W
hen I was a young copper I thought I was going to stop the ti
d
e of cri
m
e. Fucking fantasy. Most cri
m
es are cold and the crook is history. Doe
s
n
’
t stop the victim
from
th
i
nking this is TV, and I’m
going to start dusting everything
for fingerprints and
running shit through a co
m
puter.”

I think about Manny and the s
m
udg
e
s he left on my kitchen counter.
W
as he the eager rookie hoping to i
d
entify the person
w
ho broke into
m
y house or was it a placebo designed to comfort
m
e and
m
ake him
look good?

“People bring on their own
m
i
sery,” he says. “Lea
v
e their garage doors open, their windows unlocked, t
h
en
m
oan and cry beca
u
se so
m
e perp helped hi
m
self to their jewelry and their TVs.”

“And your wife?
Did she bring on her own
m
is
e
ry
?
”

He blows a long whistle of air out t
h
rough his lips. Then picks up his e
m
pty coffee cup and pretends to
drink.
“I don
’
t think that
’
s
any of your business.”

“God, that
w
as stupid of
m
e.
I
’m really sorry.”

“For christsake, quit that. I hate it when wo
m
en cry.”

He shifts in his seat and looks away. Suddenly, he gets up, coffee cup in
hand, and walks the short distance to my rear garden wall, where he stands, his
b
ack to
m
e, looking at so
m
ething off in the dista
n
ce. “I don’t know why I’m
telling you this,
but I had to co
m
e to
ter
m
s
with
the
fact that I could fix proble
m
s on the street that I couldn’t fix at h
om
e. I put
m
y
wife in an armlock once and hauled her off to the hospital l
i
ke so
m
e street corner hype, and all it did was
m
ake her cringe every ti
m
e I c
a
m
e near h
e
r again.”

His voice breaks and he coughs to cover it. “Took
m
e a while before I realized t
h
at if I could change
m
yself I
would’ve quit eating and boozing years ago. So how in hell was I going to change
m
y wife?
As far as bla
m
ing
m
y
self? Sure. I whined
‘
poor
m
e
’
for a couple of years. I sounded like the shit heads I see on the streets.”