Bottled Abyss (16 page)

In weeks following the hit and run, Janet vaguely recalled Davis reaching out to help coordinate with the police manhunt, but they’d never taken her up on any of her offers, because whether the criminals were caught didn’t matter at the time. For her, it hurt too much to concentrate on anything except drinking, and for Herman, he dragged himself off to that volunteer job at the plant and working nights at the machine shop. When sadness finally boiled into rage, they did get involved around six weeks after the death. By then, Officer Davis was just another useless cop who couldn’t bring back Melody.

Perhaps that was unkind, but a grieving heart doesn’t have a natural capacity for kindness. Janet supposed Becca Davis was a decent woman and regretted not being friendlier with her. However, this was another bad time that had brought them together and it was easier to resent her presence than embrace it. Another tragedy. Another cop asking pointless questions. Another road of pain.

To make matters worse, a house fly kept circling around them, unseen, yet thick with buzzing. Its annoyance went deeper than distraction—it reminded Janet that it didn’t matter if she was sober now, there would still be flies, still be shit, and life would go on this way because good things didn’t happen for any other reason except to make bad ones stick out more prominently.
Such a cheery life I lead…

She took a swat at the fly and Officer Davis and Faye glanced over together.

“Pesky,” Officer Davis commented and filled out some other items on the back page of her form. She pursed her lips as she scribbled. Janet noticed she had a quite daring shade of red lipstick for an authority figure. It was almost inappropriate. In her quest to find a reason not to like the woman, Janet put a check on her own form, right by low self esteem. Yet, she probably shouldn’t cast stones on that matter.

And as though reading her mind, Becca Davis lifted her stunning brown eyes and stated with alarming tranquility, “Have you ever been unfaithful to your husband?”

Faye shook her head like she’d been BB gunned between the eyes. She quickly recovered and went on defense for her Janet. “Hey excuse me, what do—?”

“Or, do you suspect he’s been unfaithful to you?”
Davis
added, showing no detour around this line of questioning. “It will help, of course, if we know that there are any third parties involved. I’m sorry if this is painful.”

What a bitch. Of course she wasn’t sorry.

“You think Herman ran off with someone?”

“Is that impossible? After your daughter, things have been rough.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“And there’s nobody for you, either?”

Faye gave her a sidelong look.

“I love my husband,” said Janet.

“Okay but—”

“So no, the answer is no.”

“Sorry.”
Davis
scrawled something else down, which Janet could imagine said,
Possibly not a jealous boyfriend.
“I hate to ask that question, but for Herman’s sake, I can’t afford to tap dance around anything that will get us closer to finding him.”

“That’s fine,” said Janet.

“I think this should just about do it.”
Davis
shuffled all the paperwork and the photos into the manila folder she brought. “I’ll stop by and get this processed before I head home.”

“Thank you so much for coming in person,” said Faye.

Yeah, thanks a heap,
thought Janet.

Davis sighed through her nose, troubled about something. The fly buzzed around and she absently waved it off. “There’s another reason why I came today, besides wanting to help.”

Janet swallowed. “What about?”

“I might have an idea where Herman went, only I hope I’m wrong.”

“And you’re telling us this now?”

“I thought you’d bring it up, since it’s been all over the local news since last Friday.”

“I haven’t been watching the news. Faye?”

Faye shrugged. “We’ve been so busy with the baby and then you at the hospital and now Herman gone—I don’t think I’ve watched a minute of TV.”

“A man named Josue Ramirez was found at the scene of a car wreck just about a mile away from a bank robbery in
Riverside
. It was in the militant style of the serial bank robberies that have gone on for years around the
Inland Empire
. The driver fled the car, maybe injured, maybe not. Josue went through the wind shield. It was touch and go with him for a while, but now he’s in stable condition at Loma Linda hospital. Reporters haven’t put him together with the incident involving Melody yet, but they soon might, so don’t be surprised if you find a pushy group on your doorstep.”

“You’re not saying that this Jose—”

“
Josue
.”

“Well fuck him and his name,” Janet said with such an evenness
Davis
leaned back.

Faye reached over and touched her shoulder. “Babe, let’s just—”

“Are you done here?” Janet asked
Davis
.

The police officer nodded silently.

“So get out of here,” Janet whispered, “because I’m not listening to this, not with Herman not here to…
know
. He should be here for this moment. Here, with me.”

“Mrs. Erikson, that’s what I’m saying. Maybe Herman learned about Ramirez and he went out to do something,”
Davis
played with the word, “hasty. Like you said earlier, he thought you were going to die and left the hospital in a panic. Think about it. He could have been watching the news in the hospital or read a newspaper. People do drastic things when they feel they have nothing to lose.”

“I wouldn’t know about that,” Janet snapped.

“But,” Faye said meekly, “wouldn’t he have shown up at Loma Linda by now?”

“Ramirez is under guard at the hospital, so it’s very unlikely Herman could get at him anyway. But the news coverage has been spending more time playing up the driver as the brains behind the robberies. He’s someone the department hasn’t IDed yet. Ramirez won’t name him and nobody will talk in the neighborhood. In the past couple days since Ramirez was hospitalized, some of his family and friends have gone missing. Herman works at a machine shop in the heart of that same neighborhood in
Riverside
.”

“You think Herman’s out there, tying people up and forcing them to talk?” Janet laughed. “Like a vigilante?”

“Or it could be Ramirez’s accomplice making sure nobody talks. We don’t know anything for certain yet, Mrs. Erikson. And I’m really not a part of the investigation. I just know that if I were you, I’d want to consider every angle before writing your husband off.”

“Why do you even care?”

Davis
took the manila folder and absently tapped it on the coffee table. “I…remember Melody. She was a sweet little girl. What happened to her shouldn’t ever be allowed to go unpunished.”

There was an awful quiet that spread through the room, all except for the fly, which Janet suddenly clapped into silence, its body dropping on Herman’s recent copy of
Men’s Health
.

Lester began barking as a car pulled up.

“That’s Evan.” Faye turned to Janet, her eyes pained. “I told him we could go do the baby registry today…”

“I should get going too. I’ll get this processed.”
Davis
stood.

Janet remained seated. “Thank you, Officer. I’m sorry if I’m not in a good mood.”

“I can’t imagine why.”
Davis
stuck out a hand, which Janet quickly shook. It was more feminine of a grasp than Janet might have expected for a woman who worked with so many men.

Janet dragged herself to the door and bid the police woman farewell. Evan was along the sidewalk, the Jeep still running while he messed with his phone. He didn’t seem to notice
Davis
get into her car and drive away. The day had become overcast and it sucked the color out of the world.

Faye took hold of Janet in a ferocious hug like a woman clinging to the side of a cliff. “I told him this wasn’t a good day to do this. I don’t want to go shopping.”

“But he said it would be good for you, right?”

Faye’s eyes reluctantly flowed over to Evan. “With everything we know now, maybe we should stay put.”

“No. Go. Have some fun.”

“I shouldn’t leave you alone.”

“I’m fine. Take my car keys if you want.”

“Already done.” Faye patted her pocket and the tight metallic sound of contained keys jangled.

“Remember not to get only yellow. Herman and me?”

“Yes,” Faye laughed sadly, “I remember your nursery, babe… We’ll be back as soon as I can. We’ll put our heads together about everything.”

Faye kissed her on the cheek and made swiftly for the Jeep. Janet watched her go and wondered what would happen between them as couple once she was gone. Would Evan tell Faye what had happened?

Why am I asking this, as though I still plan on dying?

An electric realization sent a thrill through Janet. Despite previous associations, her addiction and final goal hadn’t been related. She had abandoned booze, but not her plans. She recalled the raw desire with some nostalgia, as though what was destined had only been delayed for a different location.

What about the bottle, though? She couldn’t just leave it behind for Faye or Evan with a P.S. on her suicide note.

Promptly, she went to the bathroom, retrieved the bottle and brought it to the coffee table. Janet marveled at the shape, the deep black glass, and wondered if she poured some it out on her skin again if she’d cough up another coin. Was it infinite? The waters had cured her of alcoholism the first time. What would it cure the second time?

As much as she wanted to know, she decided that wasn’t for today. She couldn’t imagine having to deal with getting rid of another coin right now. Doubt still pulled at her though. What if the second coin wasn’t as repulsive as the first?

A minute trilling came from the table. On top of the
Men’s Health
lay the half-dead housefly, twitching this way and that way, one wing lifting on a stubborn piston, while the rest of the deformed body remained inert. Janet tilted the bottle slowly. It was so light the container felt like an extension of her arm. The brown liquid saturated the insect and sucked into it. Inky refuse jettisoned from its body and landed over the face of the magazine’s bleachy smiled cover model. As Janet watched the ink solidify into a new coin, the fly took flight with renewed vigor, crashed into a nearby window, before buzzing off to parts unknown.

It healed the fly’s injuries.

Janet leaned over the coin. Though undeniably resembling some kind of ancient currency one might find in a museum, this coin had a different impression on its face than the other had; instead of a skull, there was a tiny dot.

She went to the junk drawer and grabbed Herman’s magnifying glass, a stabbing memory surfacing of Melody running around playing with it in the mirror, watching her mouth grow comically large.

Returning to the table, she positioned the glass over the coin. The impression in the metal blossomed in size and she beheld what looked like the exoskeleton outline of the head of an insect, probably the fly’s.

Repeated attempts to penetrate the window pane had made the fly punch drunk and its flight wild. It wanted to get away from its coin, she imagined, just as much as she had from hers. She opened the window and popped the screen. The fly escaped in a blink.