By the time he got to Caulfield #14, he was in one hell of a mood.
He parked, killed the engine, and then looked at the muddy expanse he was going to have to cross to get to the trailer house that served as an office. He reminded himself it was part of the job, but when he got out and lost both shoes in the mud before he’d gone five steps, he got pissed all over again.
He stomped past the truck yard with his shoes in his hand while the mud slowly pulled the socks off his feet. By the time he reached the office he was barefoot. There wasn’t a rational thought left in his head as he knocked on the office door.
The door opened abruptly, as if the man inside had seen him coming and had been waiting for the knock.
“
Come on in here out of that miserable weather,” the man said.
“
Are you Tom Bonaventure?” Harmon snapped.
“
Why, yes sir. Yes, I am.”
All Harmon saw was the man’s black eye and busted lip before his mind slid to how that might have happened, like maybe two men fighting on the banks of the Little Man before one of them pulled a gun and ended the fight.
“
We need to talk,” he stated, and pushed his way inside.
Bonaventure had been a little anxious before, but now he was nervous.
“
Detective Harmon, right? Here you go, have a seat right here and I’ll pour you up a cup of hot coffee to break that chill.”
Harmon shed his raincoat by the door, dropped his shoes on the floor and threw his socks in a trash can. His bare muddy feet made little splat-splat sounds as he walked across the cheap green linoleum and wondered why they hadn’t laid down a color in some shade of brown. It would have at least matched the grime on top of it.
Bonaventure politely ignored the man’s condition as he poured coffee to within an inch of the rim. “How do you take your coffee, Detective?”
“
Black,” Harmon said, and managed to nod a brief thank you as the man put it in his hands.
It was hot and bitter and at least a day and a half old, but it had caffeine, and for now that was enough. He took a quick sip, set it on the desk between them, then opened his notebook and fixed Bonaventure with a hard, angry stare.
“
I understand you fired Jessup Sadler less than a week ago. What was your reason?”
“
Why, drinking on the job,” Bonaventure said. “It’s against strict policy, you understand. Can’t have a drunk down in the hole. Makes him a danger to more people than himself.”
Harmon made a quick note.
“
How did he take it?”
“
Well sir, he was mad. He was real mad, but he knew the rules.”
“
Did he mention anything about the fact that it would cost him his pension - a pension he was only months away from drawing? Or that losing his job would end his health insurance and put his dying wife’s care in jeopardy?”
Bonaventure felt like a trapped rat. This wasn’t going well. The way the detective sounded, it made it seem as if he was the one at fault, not the man who’d come drunk.
“
He mentioned all of that,” Bonaventure said.
“
And you weren’t persuaded that he might have a second chance? Like sending him home and docking his pay instead of firing him just before his thirty years were up?”
Bonaventure frowned. “A rule is a rule, Detective and I didn’t make none of them. I was just hired to follow them.”
“
So who has the final word here?”
“
Why, that would be Mr. Caulfield. Of course it didn’t come to that. Jessup took his firin’ like a man and left after he’d said his piece. I didn’t hear from him again.”
“
How did you get that black eye and busted lip?” Harmon asked.
“
Um... well, I think I got a little tipsy at the bar last night and fell on my way out the door, but I’m not real sure.”
“
You’re sure you didn’t run into Sadler last night and get into a fight? Then someone pulled a gun and the fight was over, right? Maybe he was the one who’d brought the gun and you were just protecting yourself. Is that how it went down?”
Bonaventure felt like he’d just been sideswiped. He had not seen this coming.
“
No, sir it is not! The only gun I own is a huntin’ rifle, which I damn sure don’t carry around to no bars. And, I did not get into a fight with anyone last night, especially Jessup Sadler.”
“
So you got drunk off your ass last night with a clear conscience, yet had no compassion for Sadler?”
Bonaventure was getting pissed. He’d tried to be nice, but he didn’t like the way this was going.
“
I never said I was a teetotaler. I just don’t come on the job drunk, mister, and neither does anyone else who works here. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“
Yes. I need a list of people who work on the same shift that Sadler worked, and the names of anyone who can verify your whereabouts from sundown last night until sunup this morning.”
Bonaventure’s eyes widened in sudden panic. For the first time in the five years since he and Mayrene had gotten a divorce, he wished it hadn’t happened. At least she would have been waiting up for him like she’d used to when he’d dragged his sorry ass home. He got up and pulled a list from the filing cabinet, ran a copy for the cop and handed it over.
“
There’s your list. I don’t know what time I left Doobie’s Bar, but I’m sure he can tell you. However, I live alone, and there ain’t no one who can say what time I got home or what time I left the house until I clocked in here at six a.m.”
Harmon was writing fast and furious.
Bonaventure was sweating.
“
Did Jessup ever have any arguments or disagreements with the men he worked with?”
Bonaventure thought for a moment. As much as he would have liked to point the finger of guilt at someone else, he couldn’t think of a one. “None that I knew of.”
Harmon stood abruptly. “I don’t need to tell you not to leave town, do I?”
Bonaventure belly rolled. “Are you insinuating I had something to do with Jessup’s murder?”
“
I didn’t insinuate anything. I’m just telling you not to leave town. Do we understand each other?”
Bonaventure wanted to punch him. Instead he managed to nod in what he hoped was an accommodating manner.
“
Yep. Yep, we do.”
Harmon put his raincoat back on, picked up his shoes and left as abruptly as he’d come in, shutting the door behind him with a slam.
Bonaventure started to call the boss then stopped. If he told Justin Caulfield he was now a murder suspect because he’d been drunk last night and woke up with a black eye and a busted lip, he was likely to be the next one fired. He didn’t want that to happen.
What he needed was a drink, but after what had just gone down, he didn’t have the guts to indulge. Instead, he locked the office door and headed for the back of the trailer. If he couldn’t get a release one way, he’d get it another. So he locked himself into the bathroom and proceeded to jack himself off.
Chapter Three
Detectives Amblin and Duroy were at the police precinct going over the hospital security footage. Earlier, they’d combed the parking lot for Jessup’s car, but hadn’t found it. So, either he’d never made it to the hospital, or he’d been murdered after he left. They were still waiting for a time of death from the coroner’s office and without a crime scene or witnesses, they were at a loss. Hopefully they’d get an answer to one of the questions from the tapes.
They’d been at it for nearly an hour when Mike suddenly hit Pause and leaned forward, staring at the image frozen on the screen.
“
Hey, Kenny, isn’t that our guy?”
Duroy compared the photo they had from the DMV to the face on the screen. “Looks like him. What’s the time stamp?”
Mike glanced down. “7:40 p.m. So the daughter was right. He did go see his wife. What floor was she on?”
Duroy scanned the list of info they had on the Sadler family. “Uh, third floor.”
Mike flipped the video feed from the first floor to the third floor, matching the time and date. Within seconds they saw the elevator doors open and Jessup Sadler walk out. His steps were slow and plodding and his shoulders slumped.
“
Poor bastard,” Duroy said. “Wife’s dying. Got his ass fired and still keeping the secret. Wonder what he was thinking? It’s for damn sure he wasn’t thinking that he’d never see another sunrise.”
Mike eyed the man as he walked, noting absently that Poppy Sadler must have taken after her mother because she looked nothing like this man, except maybe for the height. Sadler was a big man and Poppy was at least five foot nine, maybe even five-ten. But since thinking about her was immaterial to what they were doing, he set the thought aside and kept making notes of their findings. When Mike saw Jessup pause and then enter a room, he pointed.
“
Okay... he’s inside.”
“
Fast-forward to when he comes out,” Duroy said.
Mike watched the occasional relay of nurses going in and out, noting a doctor who went in and exited less than three minutes later. But Jessup remained.
“
There! There he comes,” Mike finally said. “Time is 10:33. He’s walking toward the elevator. Now he’s making a run for it... ah... he didn’t make it. Gotta wait for the next car. Okay, now he’s getting in.” Mike flipped video again to the ground floor, waiting to see Jessup appear, which he did, walking out the same way he walked in. “...and there he goes. Damn it! Do we have footage on the parking lot?”
Duroy shuffled through the stack and then handed Mike a tape. They fast-forwarded to coincide with the time stamp showing Jessup Sadler leaving the building.
“
That’s him,” Mike said, then paused. “No, my bad. That’s not him. Just another big man in a raincoat. It would start to rain when we needed to confirm this.”
“
Stop!” Duroy said, pointing the man in the raincoat. “Who is that guy? He looks familiar.”
Mike hit pause, again focusing on what they could see of the face.
“
Well it’s definitely not Sadler and that car is not a 1999 Ford.”
Duroy frowned. “I should know who that is.”
“
It could be anyone and it wouldn’t matter. Why do we need to know who’s coming and going? Sadler is who we’re looking for.”
“
I guess,” Duroy said, and gave up the notion as Mike hit Play.
A few moments later they saw Sadler come into camera view.
“
There he is!” Mike said. When Jessup paused and unlocked an old car, he added. “And there’s the 1999 Ford with one black fender.”
The footage wasn’t great, but the faint glow of light in the parking lot helped ID him. Even though the rain had already begun, there was no mistaking his broad shoulders or the slump in his posture as he moved. What they did note was he was almost running – they assumed to get out of the rain.
They watched him start the car and turn on the lights then were startled by the sudden spurt of speed as he took off out of the parking lot, almost like he was chasing someone.
Duroy frowned. “Wait. What the hell is that all about? Before when he was running I thought it was to get out of the rain. Now he’s out of the rain, so what’s the hurry? What are we missing?”
“
He’s either trying to follow someone, or maybe he got a phone call that caused him to leave in such a hurry,” Mike said. “Do we have his phone records?”
“
I’m not sure. Bonaventure is doing follow-ups on Sadler’s contacts and whereabouts for the last week.”
“
Go see what he knows,” Mike said. “I’m going to go back through the video and see if we can identify who and how many people left just ahead of Sadler.”
“
Will do,” Duroy said.
Mike hit rewind on the first floor video and then began watching it again, hoping to find something they’d missed.
****
Poppy didn’t know how long she’d been walking because she’d left her wristwatch at home. She had no way of knowing the time it would take to walk from the restaurant in downtown Caulfield to her house, because she’d never done it. All she could do was keep putting one foot in front of the other until she was home.
As she waited for a light to change, she glanced down at the trash rushing down the flood-swollen gutter and flashed on a memory from her childhood.
It was summer - the best time of the year when school didn’t happen and days were twice as long and twice the fun. The sun was brutal, but she and Johnny were oblivious to the heat. They were playing outside when a sudden clap of thunder rattled the heavens. They looked up into a sky turning darker by the moment and when a flash of lightning struck near the bridge, their mother came running out of the house to call them in, although there was really no need. They were already in flight.
At first they were disgruntled about having to stop in the middle of their game, and then Mama appeared with a tablet of paper, a box of crayons and some tape, and sat down in the floor beside them. All of a sudden, it was fun again.
Curious, they watched as she tore a sheet of paper from the tablet and began folding it one way and then another until she’d turned it into a paper boat. She folded boats until the pad was all used up and gave them crayons to color the sails. When the storm finally passed, Poppy and Johnny had an armada. They took off like puppies turned out of a pen and began sailing their tiny, boats through the rain swollen ditches until the paper soaked through and the armada was defeated by saturation.