A Fistful of Empty Page 4

  I pushed open the door to 407 and peeked in. A nurse was tucking in Sam’s blankets. She looked up at me and mouthed “Two minutes.” Sam’s face was hidden behind a hanging curtain. The other bed in the room was empty.

  When the nurse came out, I approached her and asked, “Can I go in now?”

  “Yes. She may get a little groggy soon. The doctor gave her some medication for pain.”

  I nodded. “Can I spend the night here?”

  “In her room?”

  “Yes.”

  “No. I’m sorry, but that’s not allowed on this ward. Visiting hours are over in about fifteen minutes. You can spend the night in one of the waiting rooms or down in the lobby, but not in her room. The doctor wants her to have a sedative to help her sleep. She’ll be getting that pretty soon. You look like you should go home and try to get some sleep.”

  “Yeah.”

  I pushed the door open and closed it gently behind me. I approached the bed and pulled back the curtain. Sam looked asleep. There was a chair in the corner of the room. I pulled it alongside the bed and sat down.

  I reached over and brushed her hair back from her face. A bruise spread along her left cheek just below her eye. I stroked her cheek with the back of my fingers. A single tear welled up in the corner of her eye, then broke and ran down her face.

  “Honey, I’m so sorry about the baby …” I began.

  More tears silently fell. “I told him. I told him I was pregnant. He just kept hitting me.” Sam spoke with her eyes toward the ceiling.

  “I told him I didn’t know how to open the safe, but he didn’t believe me. I begged him not to hit me anymore. He said he’d beat it out of me.”

  I listened as each word mixed inside me, and slowly turned to stone. A strange stone, a white-hot stone.

  Sam turned to face me. “Leo, he said you’d stolen something from him. That’s why he was there. He said if I gave it back to him, he’d let me live. Did you steal something, Leo?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I’ve never stolen anything. What did he say I stole?”

  “A key. I told him he was wrong. That he had the wrong person. That you wouldn’t steal anything, but he just got angrier. He was sure it was in the safe. When I told him I couldn’t open it, he just went crazy, hitting me. I was afraid he’d kill the baby, so I kicked him and tried to roll away. He was too strong. He pulled me back and said that if I didn’t have sex with him, he’d beat me so bad nothing would ever grow inside of me.”

  I put my hand on her arm and squeezed her, timidly.

  “So I did. He pulled down my pants and put himself inside me. I don’t remember much after that. I remember him holding my arms down and grunting, then nothing. I went somewhere, I don’t know, way deep inside like it wasn’t happening to me. The next thing I remember was hearing your voice. I think he’d just gone out the sliding glass door.

  “So, I just missed him.”

  “Yes. I knew something was wrong with me, that he’d killed the baby.”

  “Did you tell this to the police?”

  “No. Not what he said about you. I wanted to hear it from you before I told them anything.”

  “Tell me everything you can remember from the very beginning. Can you do that? Maybe I can figure out who it was.”

  “Can I have some water first?”

  I picked up her cup and tilted the straw into her mouth. She took some small sips and then licked her lips.

  “I had gone to Book ’N Card to pick up a couple of books I’d ordered. When I came back, I parked the car, put the keys in the front door, and this guy grabbed me from behind.”

  “Did you see his face?”

  “No. Never. He grabbed my hair and told me not to look around. He put a gun up to the side of my face and then hit me with it to make his point.” Sam touched her face and winced.

  “Which hand had the gun?”

  “His right.”

  “Can you remember his hand? Did you see it?”

  “No. Just the barrel of the gun.”

  “Okay. Then what?”

  “He pushed me into the house and back to the bedroom. He had me put my hands behind my back and tied them up. Then he put tape over my mouth.”

  “Did you see his hands then?”

  Sam closed her eyes, then spoke. “Yes. They’re white. Dirty. Short nails. He’s white.”

  “Do you remember anything else? Rings, scars, tattoos, a smell to his hands?”

  “Yes, they smelled. Gasoline, or motor oil, maybe.”

  “Any other smells? Sweat, body odor, cologne, tobacco?”

  “His breath was terrible. Tobacco might have been part of it, also alcohol. I don’t remember a cologne or anything.”

  “Good. Then what?”

  “He pushed me down on the bed and tied something over my head. I was terrified then. I tried to kick him and he hit me in the head, with the gun, I think. He told me to lie still or he’d kill me. Then I felt something go around my neck and choke me. Some kind of noose.”

  “He used a sash and a belt of yours.”

  “He tied the noose to something because I couldn’t move or I’d choke.”

  “Think back to when he grabbed you. Was he right behind you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did his voice come from? Right in your ear? Up above you?”

  “Above me. He was taller than me.”

  “Taller than me?” I asked.

  “Maybe. At least as tall as you.”

  “His voice. Any accent? Southern, Boston, New York, Baltimore?”

  “No. Nothing that sticks in my mind.”

  “Then what?”

  “He left me there and went out and I heard him throwing things around and cursing.”

  “Was he alone? Did you hear any other voices?”

  “No, only his. He must have been alone. When he came back to talk to me, all the crashing stopped. When he left, it started again.”

  I nodded and Sam went on. “I heard all kinds of noises. I tried to get off the bed but I couldn’t. Then he came back and asked me about the safe and started hitting me.”

  “Did he say anything more about this key I took?”

  “No, just that you’d really fucked up this time and he was going to kill you. He started muttering ‘Motherfucker’ over and over like a chant.”

  “Then I came home.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You said he was too strong. How strong? Just stronger than you? Real strong? Stronger than me?”

  Sam looked down at her arms. Finger bruises encircled her biceps. “Real strong, like you, weightlifter strong. I remember him holding my arms still.”

  The nurse stuck her head in the doorway. “Mr. Haggerty, you’ll have to leave now. Visiting hours are over.”

  I waved her off. “Okay, just a couple of minutes.

  “Sam, I have to go. I’ll be back first thing in the morning. Honey, I feel so bad about what happened to you and losing the baby. I know how much you wanted one.”

  “Yeah,” she said mournfully. “I felt so good. So ripe. I was already starting to nest. In my mind, you know. Fixing up a room for the baby, thinking about names. Now I’m just empty and I feel awful. Barren, that’s the right word. Dead and ugly.”

  “I wish you’d told me, Sam.”

  “I wanted to, that night, but you didn’t come home and I was hurt and angry.”

  “Mr. Haggerty.”

  “Okay. Sam, get some rest. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

  “I’ll try.”

  I stroked her arm, leaned over and kissed her featherlight on the cheek, right next to the bruise.

  I passed the nurse on her way in with Sam’s sedative on a tray. We exchanged brief conciliatory smiles.

  In the lobby I called Arnie Kendall. A strange voice answered. “Hello.”

  “Arnie Kendall, please.”

  “Who’s this?”

  “Leo Haggerty. Who’re you?”

  Ther
e was no answer, then “Detective Lieutenant Arbaugh.”

  “I want to talk to Arnie.” What kind of trouble was he in?

  “Sorry, Mr. Haggerty. Phone won’t reach that far.”

  “Why is that?” Mr. Smartass detective.

  “Because he’s dead.”

  9

  “How’d it happen?” I asked, turning around in the phone booth to face the waiting room. I had left my gun in the car and felt paranoid and naked. Hospital manners, I guess.

  “He was shot on the street. Looks like a drug buy went sour.”

  “Bullshit. You couldn’t be more wrong. Arnie Kendall despised drugs.”

  “That’s real interesting, Mr. Haggerty. Just how do you know Mr. Kendall?”

  “We’re friends and we’ve worked together.”

  “Is that so? You a bounty hunter, too?”

  “No. I’m a private detective. I’ve backed him up a few times.”

  “Well, he sure had no backup this time.”

  “Tell you what, Lieutenant Arbaugh, I’m on my way home, why don’t I swing by Arnie’s place and you can tell me what you know and I’ll tell you what I know. Maybe I can fill in some of the blanks.”

  “I’ve got a better idea, Mr. Haggerty. You give me your address and I’ll come by your place. There’s too many people underfoot here already.”

  “I thought you said he was shot on the street?”

  “He was. After we identified the body, we called the home. When we got no answer, a patrol car came by and found his place had been trashed. So we’ve got a crime scene team crawling all over this mess.”

  I felt another turn on the vise my life had become.

  “How about we split the difference. You know the Skyline Chili in Yorktown Shopping Center? I’ll see you there in say five minutes.”

  “Ten.”

  “See you there.”

  I dropped another quarter in the slot and called Rocky Franklin.

  Tawni, his fifth wife, answered the phone. All his wives had names that ended in “i,” like Bambi, Toni, Vicki. Maybe his next two would be Dopi and Grumpi. She went to get Rocky.

  “Yeah, Leo, what’s up?”

  “I need a bodyguard for Samantha, Rocky. A woman. A nurse-bodyguard, and I need her ten minutes ago.”

  “What happened?”

  “She was attacked at home earlier today. They won’t let me stay in the room, but a private-duty nurse can. I don’t want her left alone. There’s some kind of serious shit flying around me and I’m trying to get to the bottom of it.”

  “Consider it done. Hold on a second, I’ll get someone lined up.”

  “Rocky, can you do it for me? I’ve got to get out of here, now.”

  “Sure, Leo. Whatever you need. I’m real sorry about Sam. Is she gonna be okay?”

  “I think so, Rocky. I don’t know when, but I think so.”

  “Where is she?”

  I gave him the address and final instructions for the minder.

  “I’ll call in tomorrow and let you know what’s happening. And thanks.”

  “Sure. I don’t know what’s happening, Leo, but stay frosty. You hear me?”

  “Yeah, Rocky. I’m frosty.”

  I hung up the phone and ran to my car. Before starting the engine, I took my Colt .45 out of the glove compartment and holstered it. From the hospital I made my way down Gallows Road, across Route 50 to the shopping center. I parked and crossed over to the Skyline Chili Parlor. It was pretty late so the place was empty. I ordered a cup of coffee and sat down. Five minutes later, a man entered the restaurant and stood peering at each table. I waved him over.

  He stood over me and held out his badge. I read it.

  “Have a seat, Lieutenant. Let’s talk.”

  Arbaugh slid in and flipped open his notepad.

  “First let me get your name, address, and phone numbers.”

  I recited the information and Arbaugh wrote it all down.

  “Where were you earlier today, Mr. Haggerty?”

  “When?”

  “Just tell me about your day.”

  I ran through it quickly.

  Arbaugh honed in on my activities between twelve and three. I told him Kelly and some of the investigators could verify that I was in my office all afternoon.

  “Am I a suspect?”

  “Not really, but the more people I can remove from the running, the easier my job is.”

  I sipped my coffee. Arbaugh motioned for a cup. He was one of those bald men who has a ridiculous swirl of hair from just above his ear that sits on top of his head like ice cream on a cone. It shrieked, “I’m bald and I hate it.” Arbaugh fixed me with a professionally empty look.

  “Tell me how Arnie died.”

  “Like I said, he was shot on the street.”

  “Fuck you, Arbaugh. I’m not a suspect. I’m trying to help. The man was a good friend of mine. You tell me what happened, maybe I can make some sense of it. I know his habits, his quirks. This isn’t D.C., you know. I’d think that a homicide out here still has some novelty value at least.”

  Arbaugh reddened but said nothing. “He was shot in a parking lot about one p.m. Shotgun at close range.”

  “Why did you say it looked like a drug deal gone sour?”

  “Hey, eight out of ten, that’s what it is these days. But we found a tape on his answer machine. He got a call from a woman wanting to set up a meeting to discuss a job.”

  “What kind of job?”

  “She said she’d bailed her boyfriend out and she was afraid he was going to bolt. Wanted her collateral protected.”

  “You got anything on this woman?”

  “Oh yeah, we’ve got her body down at the morgue. Right next to Kendall’s.”

  “How’d she buy it?”

  “Looks like your friend walked over from his car to meet with this woman.…” Arbaugh’s coffee arrived and he sipped it hesitantly. “Something caught his eye and he put a spring-loaded blade right through her throat. Damn near stapled her to the seat. Good thing he did. She had a .38 snubby in her lap. Probably was going to shoot him through the door.”

  “He probably saw it in her rear-view mirror when he approached the car. What’d she look like?”

  “Standard issue bimbo. Bleached blond hair, lots of makeup, hot pants and a halter. Lots of tit showing.”

  “She was the bait.”

  “Well, your friend didn’t bite, that’s for sure.”

  “Who killed him, then?”

  “We think there was somebody in the trunk. After nailing the girl, your friend fell backwards. At least that’s what the angle of entry says he did, pulled his piece, and fired up at someone in the trunk.”

  “Did he hit him?”

  “No bloodstains, but he could have been armored. Hell, everybody is these days.”

  “You said it was a shotgun. What kind?”

  “Twelve-gauge, double-ought. First shot hit him in the chest falling backward. Kendall traded fire going down. We found three casings on the ground next to him. Second shot was to the head. The guy stood over him point blank and just blew it off.” Arbaugh looked at me, waiting for a reaction.

  I let him wait. “The car radio was on, loud. Right?”

  “Yeah. It was way up. How’d you know that?”

  “You’d do that to cover the sound of the trunk opening. Arnie heard that and knew what was happening. He fell back to cut down his exposure.”

  I imagined Arnie approaching the car. His eyes drawn to the cleavage, then checking the mirror. Seeing the gun. Adding up the too-loud radio. First the blade, then the gun. I could see it all. Right up to the shotgun blast. That wasn’t right. It couldn’t happen that way. Arnie was the most careful, most dangerous man I’d ever known. He was invincible. He would die at eighty, working in his ceremonial garden. Not like this.

  “You okay? You look a little pale,” Arbaugh asked.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. What do you know about the girl?”

  “
Not much. Name was Renee Dubois. We’re running her prints. See if she’s on file anywhere.”

  “How about the car?”

  “Nothing. Stolen. No prints but the girl’s. Her partner must have been wearing gloves.”

  Arbaugh clicked his pen and said, “Does this sound like anybody you know?”

  “No. It’s a well-planned ambush. They knew enough about Arnie that he wouldn’t be easy to get close to. But nobody comes to mind. It feels military, that’s all I can say. Maybe somebody Arnie knew in ’Nam.”

  “Yeah, we saw the medals in his house. That’s a thought. We’ll follow up on it. How about more recent enemies? Anybody he put behind bars threaten to kill him?”

  “Nobody that he mentioned. He had files of all his jobs. You can check to see if anybody’s been released or escaped.”

  “We already are. What about angry family members?”

  “Like I said, if there were any threats, he didn’t mention them to me.”

  “Okay. If anything does come up, give me a call, any time at all. He pissed somebody off big time, enough to get wasted for it. So there’s a motive out there, a big one. Once we’ve got that we’re halfway home.” Arbaugh handed me his card.

  “Yeah, if I think of anything, I’ll call you.”

  “By the way, did he have any next of kin?”

  “No. Arnie was raised in a bunch of foster homes. If he had any siblings, he didn’t know about them. His mother died when he was fifteen. His father was an unknown white male. I’m the closest thing to his next of kin. Why?”

  “We’ve got his car over on the impound lot. Would you mind getting it picked up? It’ll just cost his estate for every day we have to store it.”

  His estate, right. “Sure, I’ll get it taken care of tomorrow. What about his house? Can I go in and straighten the place up? I need to see if he’s got a will on file. What he wanted in the way of burial. He’s entitled to Arlington.”

  “Yeah, sure. We’re done with the place.” Arbaugh stood up. I rose and we shook hands.

  I sat in the shop until I saw his car disappear. Then I left and drove home. I had a war to wage.

  10

  I ripped the yellow police banner from across the front door. Gift wrap for a disaster area. I stood there and looked at my house like it was a stranger’s. Somebody had done me a real service, cutting me loose from my possessions. After Sam and Arnie, and a nameless child, this mess was like confetti. Once inside, I went into my office and found my microcassette recorder.