Small Crimes (30 page)

'Not
yet. Answer my question, Joe. Why does this nurse friend of yours have no
choice?'

'She's
done it before where she used to work.’

‘How
do you know this?'

'I
played out a hunch and spoke to the Chief of Surgery at her old hospital. He
suspects her of killing four of her patients.’

‘Sounds
unbelievable, Joe.’

‘It's
true.'

'How
come she's not in prison?'

'It's
hard to prove. The patient ends up dying of respiratory failure, and nothing
specific to a morphine overdose will show up in the autopsy.'

His
eyes shifted, and I could tell he was starting to take me seriously. 'How come
she hasn't gotten rid of Manny yet?' he asked.

'She
needs some time,' I said. I was grunting now because of the pain. It felt like
nails were being hammered into my shoulder blades. 'She has to siphon off
enough morphine from other patients to do the job. This way she doesn't have to
tamper with the machines and there's no evidence of anything.'

'I
don't get it. How does she overdose him without leaving a needle mark?'

'She
injects the morphine into the IV tubing.'

That
brought a smile to his face. 'What's her name?'

'You
don't need to know.'

A
shadow fell over his eyes as he nodded to his boys. All at once my trigger
finger was being pulled back. 'Charlotte Boyd,' I forced out.

I
struggled for another few seconds and the pressure stopped.

'1
might
be giving you a reprieve, Joe,' Dan said. 'I'm not promising anything, but
we'll see.'

He
stood up and then my head was forced back into the dirt. I could hear one of
his deputies breathing hard as I was held down. Not only was he breathing hard,
he was beginning to perspire, his sweat dripping on me. I had no idea which of
the three it was, but whoever, I hoped to hell he'd drop dead of a heart
attack.

Dan
must've gotten on his cell phone. He started yelling, 'Goddam it, Harold, I'm
sheriff of this county, I have a right to be at that meeting... Well, I at
least have the right to know when it is... Fuck you, after all the favors I've
done for you over the years?... All right, then.'

I
could hear his boots kicking up gravel as he walked back to me. My head was
yanked up again, and I saw Dan sitting on his heels, smiling pleasantly.

'So,
Joe, when is dear Charlotte going to do the deed?'

'Maybe
tonight, maybe tomorrow morning. It depends how long it takes to siphon off
enough morphine to fill up a syringe.'

'Why
should that take any time?'

'If
the other patients have too much morphine taken out of their IV bags, it will
raise suspicion.'

Dan
sat on his heels for a good minute as he thought it over. Then he nodded at me.
'Okay, Joe,' he said. 'You got your reprieve.'

He
stood up and told his boys to let me go.

The
gun was taken out of my hand, and they removed their knees from my neck and
back. It took me a while before I could push myself up onto my hands and knees.
My neck and shoulders still hurt like hell, but I no longer felt as if nails
were being driven into my joints. I got myself flipped around so I was sitting
on the ground.

'You
have any aspirin?' I asked.

Dan
shook his head, his eyes amused. 'Sorry, Joe. I don't carry any around with
me.' He turned to his deputies. 'You boys have any?' None of them bothered to
move.

Dan
turned back to me. 'Sorry, Joe, doesn't look like anyone's got any.' He let
loose a long, disappointed sigh. I had it all worked out for today, Joe. I
wrote such a nice suicide note for you. Do you want to hear it?'

I
shook my head.

'Too
bad. I'm pretty damn proud of it. I had you sending Frechotte to the Green
Valley Motor Lodge hoping he'd kill Coakley. I also had you taking
responsibility for Billy Ferguson's murder and a couple of others. But in the
end, you couldn't live with what you'd done.'

'Who
else was I supposed to have killed?'

'It
doesn't matter.'

'So
that's what Manny has on you.'

He
ignored that. 'Let's get back to the business on hand. You heard me on the cell
phone, right? You know who I was talking to?'

'Yeah,
I know.'

'Grayson's
been putting me off,' he said, somewhat bitterly. 'I've been calling him all
morning. The prick finally let me know that Vassey's deal is being pushed back
to Friday. I guess with the shooting yesterday, our DA friend's tied up until
then.

'So
here's where we stand,' he continued. I want to see Manny gone by tomorrow
morning. That's your final deadline. No more reprieves. Understood?'

I
nodded. I was rubbing my arms, trying to get some feeling back into them. I
asked him how he had planned to explain all my bruises and cuts with a suicide.

^'
Look behind you, Joe,'
he said, smiling as pleasantly as ever. I turned and saw an eighty-foot drop to
the bottom of the quarry.

'We'd
toss you over after putting a bullet in your skull. No one would care too much
about any bruises or scratches after that. But you know, Joe, even if we didn't
toss you down there, I don't think anyone would really care.'

'How
about those two cops in Stowe? They were going to go along with a suicide?'

'You
should know me well enough to answer that one. Joe, let's hope I don't have to
see you tomorrow, okay?'

He
hesitated for a second, a glint of humor in his eyes. 'Just out of curiosity,'
he asked, 'what happened to your face? One of my boys do that?'

I shook my head. 'I got sucker-punched.'

'Anyone I know?'

'I don't think so.'

His
eyes narrowed as he studied at me. 'You should see a doctor and have your nose
set properly before it's too late.’

‘Thanks
for your concern.'

He
laughed at that. All of them turned then and started off towards their cars. I
struggled to my feet and hobbled a couple of steps forward.

'Can
you have one of your boys drive me back to my motel?' I yelled out to Dan.

Without
looking back, he answered that I only had a fifteen-mile walk and that it would
do me some good to have some time alone to reflect on my situation. I watched
as they got in their cars and drove off.

The
first mile was the worst, but after that I started to loosen up. I had a bunch
of scrapes and cuts, and my shirt - my last clean one - was ripped and pretty
much a mess. No real damage was done, though. Once my muscles had a chance to
loosen up I was okay.

I
spent almost four hours walking back to the ski lodge. A few dozen cars passed
me along the way. I tried thumbing for a ride, but no one bothered to stop.
That was okay. It gave me a chance to think. And I have to give Dan credit. He
was right, I needed that time alone to reflect on things. During the walk back
I came up with a plan. It wasn't anything new. For the most part it was what I
had already come up with to get back at Junior. I wasn't sure my plan would
work, but even if it didn't, it would let me go out with a bang.

Chapter 18

The
desk clerk seemed surprised to see me. They had already cleared out my room,
and he had to get my duffel bag out of a storage closet. As he handed it to me,
he was eyeing my cuts and bruises with some curiosity. I answered the question
that seemed stuck on his lips.

'Those
cops who took me out of here this morning tried to kill me,' I said.

'Really?'

'Damn straight. I'm lucky to be alive.’

‘No shit?’

‘No shit.'

As
I said before, I didn't care anymore. Word would spread about those two cops,
and as far as I was concerned, they deserved whatever they ended up getting. I
took my duffel bag to my car and headed towards Bradley. Along the way, I
stopped off at the Eastfield Mall and bought a shirt and pair of pants. I wore
my new clothes out of the store, and cleaned up the best I could in the mall's
rest room.

After
that I found a diner and had three cheeseburgers and a milkshake. It was like I
had this bottomless hole that I couldn't fill. I probably could've had a couple
more cheeseburgers, but I stopped after three. Before leaving I called Craig,
apologizing

for
missing my parole meeting with him the other day, and scheduling another
meeting for later in the afternoon. I also called an attorney in Bradley, Jim
Pierce, and was able to set up an appointment for within the hour. I still had
enough time before the appointment to drive down to the old tannery.

The
tannery had been shut down for almost sixty years, and it lay empty until Manny
bought it fifteen years ago and moved his bookie operations there. In some ways
it made sense - the building is as out of the way in Bradley as you can get -
but I often wondered what he wanted all that space for.

The
roads leading to the tannery were in rough shape. I guess during the past
fifteen years only Manny and his employees ever bothered to drive down them.
After twenty minutes of bouncing around, I got to the building.

From
the outside the old tannery looked pretty dilapidated. There were half a dozen
cars parked alongside it - more than I would've expected. I drove around the
building until I got to a pair of dumpsters. In no time at all I found what I
was looking for - empty boxes and containers of pseudoephedrine, iodine,
acetone, methanol, and other ingredients necessary for manufacturing crystal
meth. I suspected that that was behind Junior's push to acquire college clubs.
Not only was he manufacturing crystal meth, he was acquiring distribution
outlets so he could unload his junk without having to deal with a retailer.

Nobody
saw me going through the dumpsters; at least, if they did see me no one
bothered doing anything about it. When I was done, I got in my car and headed
back towards downtown Bradley.

I
arrived at Jim Pierce's office a few minutes before our scheduled appointment,
and his receptionist had me take a seat and wait. Next to Harold Grayson, Jim's
probably the best we've got. When I was a cop I saw him plenty of times arguing
ridiculous bald-faced lies in court without missing a beat, and more times than
not convincing the juries to buy them.

After
fifteen minutes Jim came out to greet me, and led me back to his office. His
attitude towards me seemed curious, and when he got behind his desk he leaned
back and pursed his lips while he studied me.

'You
look like you've been run over by a truck,' he said.

'It's
nothing. I tripped and fell, that's all.'

He
knew that was a load of crap, but he didn't care enough to pursue it. 'It's
been a long time, Joe. What can I help you with?'

'I
need to hire a lawyer.'

'Why
me? Isn't Harold Grayson your lawyer?'

'He's
not available.'

He
raised his eyebrows at that. "The two of you have a falling out?'

'No,
nothing like that.' I paused, and then said, "There's a conflict of
interest.'

'If
you want to hire me my rates are one hundred and fifty an hour.' He checked his
watch. 'You're on the clock now. What's the problem?'

I
went straight into it and told him about Manny, the deal he was making with
Phil, and what he was going to confess to. During it all, Jim leaned back in
his chair bug-eyed as he listened to me.

'So
you're saying Manny Vassey, to protect his son, will be alleging you murdered
Ferguson?' he asked. 'Yes.'

'How
do you know this?’

‘He
told me.'

'He
just came right out and volunteered this to you?’