A Slow Walk to Hell (20 page)

I
n a guest bathroom on the second floor, I began to clean myself off. I was a mess. In addition to the blood on my clothes, the bottom tip of my ear lobe was missing and more of Coller’s blood dotted my face.

I sighed. When it rains, it floods.

In my head, I still heard Simon’s laughter. No way he’d faked that reaction to throw me off. Curiously, the fact that he wasn’t the mysterious Bob made me feel even worse. If Amanda fell for Simon, I could understand it. The guy was brilliant and a zillionaire.

But Bob also apparently had bucks. And maybe he was brilliant too.

You of all people should know I’m not Bob.

That remark ate at me. Did Simon believe I
knew
Bob? Obviously, he must. And what about his comment concerning Emily? Had Amanda told Emily about Bob? Again the answer seemed obvious.

So I was the only one left out of the loop.

I searched my memory for everyone I knew named Bob. There were six. Two were married and one was an uncle on my mother’s side. None were rich.

Fuck.

I’d almost finished washing up, when I heard a knock on the door. “EMT,” a male voice said.

I opened the door, still stripped to the waist. A burly medical technician stood there, carrying a doctor’s bag. A woman tentatively peered out from behind him.

Amanda.

“Go away,” I said.

The man blinked. “Whatever you say, buddy. I was told to treat your ear.”

Amanda said, “Marty, I know you’re upset, but we need to talk. Please.”

I said to the technician, “I was talking to the woman.”

His head swiveled between Amanda and me. “Look,” he said, reading the situation, “maybe I should come back when you two—”

“No,” I said.

“Yes,” Amanda said.

More head swiveling. He made his decision and started to leave. I said, “Get back here.”

He froze.

I said to Amanda, “I’ve got nothing to say to you. You’ve had your fun.”

“If you’ll let me explain. It’s not what you think—”

“Simon says you’re in love with Bob.”

She hesitated.

I said, “Well?”

“Yes, I am, but I want you to know—”

“You thought it was funny as hell to play me along. Make me think I had a chance when I didn’t. Don’t deny it. You know damn well that’s what you were doing.”

“Look, I can explain about that—”

“Not to me. Tell someone who cares.” To the med tech, I said, “Get in here.”

As he reluctantly stepped inside, I started to close the door. I paused when I saw Amanda’s eyes mist. “Marty, you could have been killed. If that had happened, I’d have never forgiven myself. We have to stop these juvenile games and—”

I shut the door on her…hard.

“Man,” the tech said. “You always this big a jerk or you just having a good day?”

“Just bandage the ear, huh?”

As he attended to me, I didn’t expect to feel much pain, but I did.

“Asshole,” he said, when he left.

I emerged from the bathroom carrying my white dress shirt. I was looking very
Miami Vice,
wearing my jacket buttoned up over my bare chest. I went down to the first floor, continued past the living room where Coller was lying dead, and entered a tiny kitchen. Simon and Amanda were there, talking with a couple of uniformed officers. Simon was telling them to put out an APB for the black BMW with dealer tags. Noticing me, he pointed to the back door and said my ride was waiting. I nodded to him, but my attention was on Amanda who was looking at me as if I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

Where did she get off being upset with me? I was the wronged party, not her.

Stepping past her, I shot her a withering glare.

Kiss my ass, she mouthed.

I puckered up.

“Stop it,” Simon ordered. “Both of you.” I glanced back. The two cops had wiseass grins. So much for being subtle.

I continued out the door. The cop was waiting on the dime-sized lawn. He escorted me down a concrete pathway toward the far end of the complex, where his cruiser was parked. Several residents called out to us, asking what was going on. We told them to go back inside, lock their doors, and someone would be around shortly to explain the situation to them. The “shortly” part was, of course, a lie.

As we drove away, I glanced toward the park and saw it fronted by an armada of flashing police vehicles, officers shielded behind them, their weapons pointed. That’s how they would remain until SWAT arrived and cleared the park for the killer.

I made two calls, listening with my good ear. The first was to Enrique who informed me he was going through his wardrobe, picking out a shirt for me. And yes, he’d dumped the press who were tailing him.

“I drove straight to my apartment. You should have seen their faces when I told them Simon wasn’t in the limo. I even let them take a look inside. Man, were they pissed. Especially Chrissy Sweeney over at Channel Five. Jeez, that lady can swear. So what color shirt you want?”

“What are my choices?”

When he told me, I said, “The blue.”

“It’s actually more of a purple.”

“Fine. The red.”

“It’s actually more of a pink.”

We went through three more colors. Everything was actually something else. I think he was saying this to yank my chain.

“Just bring me a fucking shirt,” I said.

I clicked off. The cop was grinning. I pointedly ignored him and called Sam. When he answered instead of the waiter, I knew the dinner party was over. That was a good thing. His response to my request was not.

“Marty, I’m tired,” he said. “I’m not answering any more questions. To you or anybody. I told you I don’t know anything.”

I anticipated this response and was ready. I hit him with my first kicker, saying, “Someone blew away Major Coller tonight—”

“Aw, Christ—”

Then the second: “And I believe you could be next.”

The phone hissed.

I expected some kind of shocked reaction and a demand from Sam why I would conclude he might be in danger, but the silence continued.

Which meant he already knew.

“Sam…”

“Don’t do this, Marty. Don’t fucking come here. Leave me out of it.”

“You lied to me from the start. I know you and Talbot had a relationship.”

“You’re reaching. You can’t prove a damned—”

“I’ve got Major Talbot’s phone records. I’ll also bet if we show your picture to the maids, they’ll remember you. Or maybe I should show a picture of Talbot to the guard in your building. How many times did he come by, Sam?” This wasn’t a guess; they had to liaise somewhere.

“Why are you doing this, Marty? So I was friendly with Talbot? So what? I’m telling…I’m
asking
you to leave me out of this. Please.”

“Say it. You were lovers. Say it.”

“We weren’t.”

“Say it, Sam.”

“We weren’t.
We weren’t.”

I heard the panic in his voice then. This was unexpected. Sam had spent a lifetime developing a hard-nosed military persona and I didn’t think he would began to crack so soon.

But he was.

I didn’t want to finish this over the phone. I didn’t want to push him completely over the edge when there was no one to catch him. I didn’t.

But he’d given me an opening. One I had to take.

What to do about the cop. Since the mention of Talbot’s name, he’d been following my conversation with interest. I covered the mouthpiece and growled, “You repeat any of this, I’ll deny it.”

His face went blank. “Repeat what?” he said coolly.

This guy was going to make chief. Gathering myself with a deep breath, I bluntly asked Sam who killed Major Talbot.

“How the fuck should I know?”

“Because I think he told you…” I paused for effect. “And I know you were at his place shortly before the murder.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“You were
seen,
Sam. Two witnesses saw you outside his gate.”

“They’re mistaken. I was nowhere near—”

I went for it then. Played my last kicker. “I’ll do it if I have to, Sam.”

“Do what?”

“Turn you in.”

A long pause. I heard him slowly exhale. “I don’t believe you.”

“Try me.”

“It’ll be your word against mine.”

“Don’t forget Randy’s police report, where he swore he saw you in that gay bar. And once we keep digging, I’m sure we’ll uncover other instances where you visited—”

“You fucking son of a bitch.”

“The truth. All I want is the truth.”

“Why?” he exploded. “What the hell would you do with it?”

Bingo.

I said softly, “Son of a bitch. You
do
know who killed Talbot.”

Silence.

“Sam,” I said, “I’m sorry you’re gay. I’m sorry your secret may get out and your career may be over. I’m sorry your family may find out and I’m sorry you’re mixed up in a murder. But we’ve got two dead people and you have information that will help us find the killer.”

Still nothing from Sam. I didn’t press him any more. I’d played the guilt card and it was up to his conscience to do the rest.

When he finally responded, his voice was resigned, accepting. “You’re right about…all of it. I know who…who must have killed Franklin. But even if I told you, you’d never be able to arrest them. They’re too powerful. I tried to tell that to Franklin. I told him what he was doing was dangerous. I said to let it go. Just let it go. But he couldn’t. He was like that. Always tried to do what’s right. That’s what I admired most about him. His integrity. Part of it…most of it was his faith. He always had that as a barometer, to judge himself. I’m religious, but nothing like him. If I was, this wouldn’t be so damned hard. There’s a certain freedom in believing in something bigger than you. But for people like us…Franklin and me…there was a problem. It was always there, hanging over us…reminding us that we were different…unworthy. That scared Franklin…terrified him. He tried so hard to make himself worthy, deserving. But in the end, he knew…he had to know…” He trailed off without completing the thought.

I was squirming with anticipation. I said, “You’re telling me Congressman Harris had him killed, right? Shit, of course you are.” The cop’s head snapped around. I gave him a hard look and he turned away. I said to Sam, “Who else? Who else was involved?”

Sam resumed speaking as if he hadn’t heard me. His tone contained an affectionate, reflective quality. “I was the senior officer. I should be the one who guided him, but it was the other way around. He taught me about courage and grace and…well, the specifics don’t matter. What does matter is that I’m not afraid to come forward. Not any longer. Not when I think about how they killed Franklin. Like some animal. Fuck those assholes.
Fuck them.”

The phone hissed. I said, “I need the names, Sam.”

He sighed. “I’m so damned tired and I need a drink. When you get here, I’ll tell you everything. I’ll even show you the tape they sent. They counted on it to keep me quiet.”

I realized what tape he must be referring to. Now it was clear why his decision to cooperate had been so excruciating. “The names. Just give me the names.”

“Marty, please…”

He was teetering emotionally. If I pushed him now, I could lose him.

I backed off.

“All right, Sam.” I expected him to hang up.

But he still wanted to talk. He asked me if I had known that Franklin was a fellow alum from Virginia Tech. I told him I had.

“I suppose that’s the main reason we hit it off. We had so much in common. The corps, the Air Force, the pressure of being different. He was the one person who understood what I went through because he’d experienced the same thing. I never had that before. Someone to confide in. Christ, I’m going to miss him.”

His voice trembled with emotion. I didn’t say anything. Sam was looking for a response; he just wanted someone to listen.

“You know he also liked to ski. It’s true. At school, he used to go to Clayter Lake every chance he had. Camp out just like we did. How’s that grab you? Two gay guys from the corps who liked to ski and we end up getting together. What are the odds?”

A direct question. “Pretty small.”

“We should do that soon, Marty. You and me. Go there and spend a weekend. Franklin would like it if we did. He and I talked about going all the time.”

“That’d be nice, Sam.”

“How about when this is over? It’d be like old times. We could forget about all this. Forget about everything.”

“Anytime you say.”

When Sam quietly clicked off, I could almost see his smile. For the briefest moment, I too felt excitement at the prospect of rekindling our friendship. Then reality set in and I realized we were fooling ourselves. I was about to create a chasm between us that could never be bridged. From now on, whenever he saw me, he would be reminded that I was the person who had destroyed his life and career. Could he ever forgive me? I doubted it.