Some Degree of Murder (26 page)

Virgil’s face was impassive. “What?”

“Turn left when you get out that door. And run.”

Virgil gave me a nod and shoved the crash bar on the door. Light flooded the room as he slipped through the doorway. He was haloed by the light for a brief moment, then disappeared.

Virgil

The fresh April air
greeted me when I moved outside. I dropped my gun as I sprinted away from the building and past Rowdy’s white van. Three loud cracks rang out, forcing me to pick up my pace.

I glanced over my shoulder searching for Tower and expecting to see a gun blazing away in his hand. When I saw nothing, I turned forward and continued to run, thankful for
an honest cop.

The door slammed shut and for a brief moment, I was engulfed in darkness.

After a second or two, my eyes readjusted to the low light in the room. I stared at Rowdy’s still form on the floor and the growing slick of dark blood spreading outward from what remained of his head.

I raised my gun and fired three quick shots at the door. I aimed for the doorjamb just to the right of the door. The bullets bit into the drywall and two by fours with a thud as the muzzle flashed in my hand.

When the echo of the shots died away, I stood still for a long moment, looking at the door through the tendrils of smoke, which rose from the barrel of my gun. The sulfuric odor of gunpowder mixed with the coppery smell of blood and filled the air.

I took several deep breaths, trying to think and not wanting to think, all at the same time.

You screwed up, John.

I sniffed at the smell that hung heavily in the air.

You killed him, as sure as if you pulled the trigger.

I cleared my throat and that sound in the still air startled me. I slid my Glock back into the holster. I walked over to the door and pushed the crash bar, swinging the door open into the sunlight. Virgil’s gun lay on the dirt path near the back door. I left it there.

I stepped back into the building and hurried toward the small room where Rowdy had tied up the girl. As I passed Hiero’s gun on the floor, I snatched it up and put it in the small of my back, covered by my sport coat. Inside the room, the degrading pose and the brutality of the object inside her sent a shot of rage through my belly.

I pulled the grotesque green piece of plastic from her and set it on the bed, resisting the urge to hurl it against the wall. An open folding knife with a blackened tip lay on the ground near the shattered boom box. I used it to cut the girl free. Her legs sprung downward as soon as I cut the rope and she flopped loosely onto her side.

My fingers found her carotid artery and I was almost immediately rewarded with a faint, lethargic heartbeat.

She was alive.

I removed my jacket and covered with it. A little of it was for warmth. The rest was for dignity.

A small moan escaped her lips.

“I’ll be right back,” I whispered to her, even though she probably couldn’t hear me.

I wanted to take her to my car and keep her there until medics arrived. But I couldn’t turn my car into a crime scene. The weight in the small of my back told me that.

I was desperate to comfort the girl and call her by name, but I remembered she hadn’t told me that night I saw her on Sprague and she’d been so angry about her dead brother. I settled for stroking her shoulder twice through my jacket, before turning and walking as fast as I could out of the room.

As I left the building the brisk air of April hit me like an icy wall. I realized how much I had been sweating when cold bit into me at my underarms, chest and neck. I could even feel the cold air on my legs through my slacks as I trotted toward my car and unlocked the door. Once I started the car, I reached across the passenger seat and opened the glove box. I put Hiero’s gun inside and slammed it shut.

Up the block, I could see the first curious heads poking out of windows. A pair of pedestrians came around the corner and stared up the street. Things were in motion. The show was about to start.

I took a deep breath and reached for the radio mike.

It took me fifteen minutes to get to The Hole after leaving Tower and Rowdy. I ran through the rundown neighborhood that survives to the north side of Sprague, eventually slowing down to a slight jog and then a walk. I pulled off my gloves and shoved them into a pocket. With a pair of shaky hands, I fired up a Camel and inhaled deeply into my lungs which already burned from the run and the brisk April air. I coughed several times before tossing the cigarette into the street and cursing myself.

As I walked, I heard several sirens in the area but none of them zoomed down any of the back streets I took. I knew all of them were running to the aid of Tower.

Once inside The Hole, the smell of stale beer and desperation greeted me like a comfortable old shoe. I ambled over to the bar and dropped onto a torn up stool. The bartender waddled over to me and put his arms on the marred counter in front of me. His enormous stomach struggled against the Seattle Seahawks shirt he wore.

“What’ll it be, pal?” he asked with a husky voice.

I suddenly felt weary and just wanted to lay down and fall asleep. You got any Jack Daniels?” I finally asked

He nodded his meaty head.

From a pocket, I pulled out a ten dollar bill and laid it on the counter.

While the bartender made
my drink, I stepped over to the phone booth in the back corner. I pushed some quarters into the machine and punched a few buttons. Andie picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?” she asked, her voice soft and unaware.

I held the phone to my ear for a moment before saying softly, “It’s over.”

Before she could answer, I hung up. I then dug out my pre-paid phone card, hit some more buttons and was greeted by a thick voice announcing, “Bobo’s House of Chicken.”

“Jay, it’s me.”

“What up, my man?” His voice had a sense of lightheartedness that seemed out of place in my world.

“Tell him that my work up here is finished. I’ll be leaving as soon as I can.”

The playfulness in his voice faded away and he turned serious. “Want me to have him call you? I know he’s been worried about you.”

“No. Just pass that message.”

“You got it.”

I hung the phone up and returned to the bar. My Jack and Coke sat on the counter next to the change for my ten. With a single pull, I finished the drink and winced as the cold liquid played havoc with my broken teeth. When the pain subsided, I waved at the bartender for another. He shrugged and nodded at the same time. I wasn’t sure what the hell that meant so I let it slide.

When the fat man brought the drink over, I said
, “Call River City Taxi and ask for Axel.”

He nodded and shuffled off to the phone behind the bar. I grabbed my drink and walked over to a booth and settled in.

Ten minutes later, I had my head leaned back on the booth when the door swung open and I heard a cane tap on the floor. I lifted my head. Rolo walked over to me with Rhonda close behind. Rolo was in a bright red jacket that fell to his knees. Even though the color was wrong, the puffy jacket still had the Raiders logo on the front. Rhonda was in a short, black leather jacket and a shorter black dress.

“Get me a drink, baby,” Rolo said before he fell in to the booth across from me.

Rhonda clicked her high heels over to the bar and leaned both of her arms on the dented brass rail that ran its length. Her ass stuck out highlighting her best feature for any takers.

“How’s business?” I asked.

He scrunched up his face for a moment before answering. “The same. Times is tight, but I manage. I’ll roll with the punches until I get my opportunity to punch back.”

“I think it’s going to improve real soon.”

His eyes widened and he leaned in over the table. “No shit?”

Through the front window of the bar, I saw a white River City Taxi pull up. I shifted my gaze back to Rolo and stood up. “I think the whole market is gonna break open for you today.”

Rolo laughed and slapped the table. When I turned toward the door Rhonda was standing next to me with a couple of drinks in her hands. “Hey, there,” she said with a smile. “What’s so funny?”

The big pimp pointed up at me. “This is the man, baby. If he wasn’t in such a hurry to leave, I’d make sure you gave him a trip around the world. On the house.”

Rhonda cocked her head and lifted her eyebrows. “Whaddya say? Got time for a little adventure?”

I shook my head. “Not today. Maybe some other time.”

Rhonda shrugged and slid into the booth across from Rolo. I extended my hand to the black man. “Thanks for your help.”

He grabbed my hand and shook it. “It’s been nice doin’ business with you.”

When I climbed in to the cab, Axel looked over at me. “Tough day?”

I smiled at him. “You can say that.”

“Where to?”

“The Davenport.”

Axel turned back forward, put the cab into gear and we lurched away from the curb. A few minutes later, the cabbie looked into the rear view mirror and caught my eye. “Want some music?”

“Yeah, actually, that sounds good. Make it a seventies station, if you got it.”

“Oh, yeah, we got a great station for those tunes.”

Axel reached over and flicked the radio on. Dobie Gray’s smooth voice filled the cab as he serenaded us with
Drift Away
.

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes for the rest of the trip.

She was sitting cross-legged in the chair when I walked into the hotel room. Her legs were bare except for the green dragon tattoo and she had on an over-sized black sweatshirt. Gina’s hair was tucked behind her ears and a cigarette smoldered in her hand.

Her eyes were concerned as she climbed out of the chair and met me halfway. “You okay?”

I nodded.

“It’s done?”

Another nod.

She wrapped her arms around me and hugged. I let myself fall into her embrace and I smelled her clean scent. I held her close and let the warmth of her body work through mine.

Gina broke the embrace and looked up to me. “What do we do now?”

I sat on the bumper of Lieutenant Crawford’s car, holding a small Styrofoam cup of coffee between my hands. The entire block was crawling with detectives, crime-scene techs and patrol officers. Every possible kind of lookie-loo gathered at the edge of the yellow crime-scene tape at the end of the block, watching the high drama of a homicide scene.

The light windbreaker someone had given me did little to break the chill I was feeling. The rotgut coffee in my cup tasted like turpentine, but at least it was hot.

Rowdy was dead.

Because of me.

“A complete mess, Tower.” Crawford’s analysis broke into my private reverie.

I raised my eyes to his and considered telling him where to go, but the Deputy Chief appeared at my right.

“Leave him be, Crawford,” he said. “Why don’t you go find out when the Chaplain will be here, huh? And make sure that the patrol units on perimeter get relief.”

Crawford shot me a dirty look but muttered a “yes, sir” before shuffling off, chewing on his unlit cigar.

The Deputy Chief stared after him, then looked at me and shook his head. “And they say Civil Service is a blessing.”

I shrugged.

The Deputy Chief gave me a knowing nod and clapped me lightly on the shoulder. “It’ll be all right. Anything you need, you let me know. All right?”

I nodded at him absently.

“Anything,” he said pointedly.

I cleared my throat and said, “Thanks.”

He clapped me on the shoulder again and walked away toward the media vans at the opposite end of the street. I followed him with my gaze and then realized that the whole exchange had almost certainly been on camera. Everyone in River City would see what a great leader he was.

“John?”

I turned to look at Detective Ray Browning. His brow was furrowed in concern.

“Yeah?”

“Listen, John, I just need to get some things straight with you before…well, before other people are asking.”

I felt panic clawing in my stomach, but tried to remain outwardly calm. “Go ahead,” I said.

Browning rubbed his eyebrows. “Well, I’m just asking here, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And this is just between us, okay? I mean, this can be out of school, if you want it to be.”

“Does it need to be?”

“Yeah, probably.
Hell, I don’t know.” He looked me directly in the eye. “John, you gotta know that Crawford and Hart are both going to climb your ass over this.”

“I know.”

“This cowboy stuff…it isn’t the way of the world anymore.”

I took a
sip of coffee. “I know.”

Browning watched me for a moment, then asked, “When did you know Cody Heinz was the suspect in your homicide cases?”

I told Browning everything I could and only left out what I had to. His lips tightened when I admitted to talking to the Brotherhood at their clubhouse because it meant I’d stepped all over his case involving the Sammy G. homicide.

“Do you know who killed Sammy G.?”

“No,” I told him without hesitation.

Browning eyed me curiously. “You know that fire over at the Palms last night?”

“I haven’t heard.”

“Structure fire,” he said. “Burned up most of the place. Three dead bodies were found in one room. All of them were BSC. Funny thing is, it looks like they were dead before the fire started.”

I didn’t reply. My stomach was churning, though. I knew in an instant that somehow Virgil Kelley was to blame for those three, too. How many people had he murdered trying to get to Rowdy? Four? Five?

Doesn’t matter
, I thought.
What matters is that you helped him murder the last one.

“An awful lot of BSC are dying around here lately,” Browning said, still watching me.

Crawford appeared at the front of the car again. “Tower, I told you to get your ass off of my car,” Crawford said, adjusting his belt and switching the cigar to his left hand.

“We’re almost done here,” Browning broke in, “and then I think someone should run John to the station or home.”

Crawford sniffed and nodded. “Yeah, okay. Finish up.” He gave another puff on his cigar and waited.

Browning took out his notebook. “Now, John, you said that this guy Brian told you about Cody Heinz’s little hideout here—“

“Rowdy.”

Browning looked up. “Okay. Rowdy, then. So what happened when you got here?”

I took a breath and let it out. “I got here and walked up to the office. I heard music and yelling inside and saw that the door was forced. I figured the situation was exigent and so I made entry. Once inside—“

“Why didn’t you call for back-up?” Crawford asked.

“I left my radio in the car.”

“Not very smart.”

I shrugged. “A mistake.”

“What happened once you were inside, John?” Browning asked.

“Almost as soon as I got inside, the music stopped and I heard some yelling. A couple of seconds later, I heard a gunshot.”

“One?”

I nodded.

“Go on.”

“I went down the hallway and saw Rowdy laying on the ground and a white male standing over the top of him with a gun.”

“Did he match the description Mrs. Taylor and Brian Osmond gave you?”

I nodded. “Yeah, it coulda been the same guy.”

Browning jotted something in his notebook. “Then what happened?”

“Before I could do or say anything, he bolted for the back door. I fired three shots at him but I don’t think I hit him.”

“Why didn’t you chase him?” Crawford asked.

I looked at Crawford and wondered when the last time he chased anybody was. “I started to. Then I saw the girl.”

“You mean the crime scene you completely destroyed?” Crawford said.

I gave another shrug.

“You may think you’re some kind of supercop, Tower, but I got news for you. You screwed up this crime scene worse than any rookie could. You failed to keep me updated on developments in your case, even when you had to know you had a serial killer situation. And from what this Osmond kid is telling Billings right now, Lieutenant Hart is going to have you in Internal Affairs for an ass-reaming. I wouldn’t plan on staying in Major Crimes much longer, if I were you.”

“
Whatever,” I muttered.

“What was that?” Crawford asked, his tone sharp.

I fixed him with an even gaze. “I said, whatever. Lieutenant.”

Crawford eyed me for another long moment, as if deciding whether or not to continue listing my sins for me. Maybe adding insubordination to the list.
Finally, he spat on the ground next to my feet, shook his head and stalked away.

As I watched him go, Browning touched my shoulder.
“You’re taking on the Crawfish now?”

“I’ve got no time for his bullshit.”

“You need to go home, John. I’ll have a uniform give you a ride.”

“No, I can drive.”

Browning pressed his lips together.

“Unless you’re holding my car,” I said.

Browning thought about for a minute, then shook his head. “All you did was call radio from it, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Then I’m not holding it.”

I nodded my thanks, but Browning held my gaze. “I just need to know something from you, John.”

“What?”

“Mistakes aside, can I investigate this knowing that everything is squared away?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Browning didn’t stop looking at me. “It means that aside from the business of not bringing in backup or other detectives and whatever happened at that kid Osmond’s house, is everything square on this case?”

“It’s all square.”

“And you’re sure?”

I gave him an unwavering stare directly into his eyes. “You ever known me to lie, Ray?”

Browning slowly shook his head.

“Okay, then,” I said and turned away. My stomach felt like there were streams of acid roiling inside it and my chest was heavy. I started walking toward my car.

“John!”

I turned back to Browning, wondering if he’d have his gun in one hand and his cuffs in the other. But he only stood at the front of Crawford’s car, watching me.

“Yeah?”

“Brittany. The girl inside is named Brittany Gardner. I thought you might want to know.”

My throat constricted and I couldn’t answer out loud. Instead, I gave him a nod of thanks and walked to my car. When the engine started up, I could feel the wetness on my cheeks and was surprised at it. I cruised slowly out of the outer crime scene and under the perimeter tape that the uniform officer lifted. He looked sixteen years old, though I knew he had to be at least twenty-one
to be on the job. I hoped briefly that he hadn’t noticed the tears on my face, then I didn’t care.