Malice Times Read online

  21

  Rae's naked, sleeping body was warm and inviting. I lay in bed for an hour, eyes closed, before sleep overtook me. The faces of Drake, Joshua, Brad, Watkins, my father, Dempsey, and Archer all swam around in my head. My brother's face sat in the center of that pool, head upturned, mouth open, eyes bulging, lifeless. Gaping holes in his back, his body sprawled out on the sandy beach. The clouds passed overhead across the sun.

  The lake's water turned blood red, bodies bobbed to the surface. Hundreds of naked bodies floated toward the beach like some hellish army determined to attain the beach. The lake of death grew in size, as the brown water turned red expanding across the Earth, chewing life, devouring all that it touched. The fish upturned and floated to the surface. I ran from the water as it came towards me, but there was no escape. The death chill of the water nipped at my heels and the water overtook me.

  The phone woke me. Rae turned over and reached for the receiver, but only got air. It rang a couple of times before she got her hand around it and lifted it to her ear. I could see the silhouette of her naked body under the covers.

  "Hello," she said into the receiver. "What? Wait... Yeah, he's here." She lowered the phone to her bare breasts and turned to me. "Joe, you awake?"

  "Yeah."

  "It's for you." She handed me the phone, turned over on her side, her back to me.

  I raised the phone to my ear and said, "What?"

  "Joe," a woman’s voice said.

  "Yeah."

  "It's Regina."

  "Regina?" I looked at the clock on the table. It read three-twenty-two in bright green numbers. “What the hell? It’s three-thirty.”

  "Daniel's dead.”

  Suddenly, the grogginess fell away and I was alert and tingling. "Where are you?"

  "I am at home like any normal person would be at this time. Daniel is down at the old mill on the lake outside of town."

  "I know the place. What were you doing there?’

  "I’m not there. I got a phone call. I thought you would like to know.”

  "You got a phone call? Who from?”

  She hesitated. I decided to let her off the hook. “We can talk about your father later.”

  “Rae told you?”

  “I wish you had. Don’t mention this to anyone.” I lowered the receiver onto the hook and got out of bed carefully and dressed. Rae had fallen back to sleep and I didn’t want to wake her. I watched her sleep for a few moments and then I grabbed her house keys. I walked to my car down by The Grove and drove off towards the old mill. I heard the piercing sound of an ambulance not far off. I drove out of town and down a short access road lined with trees. The mill, surrounded by police cars and a lonely ambulance, looked rundown and abandoned, but on the sides in big, faded, white lettering read Fulcom Manufacturing. I drove my Jeep into a space outside the web of police vehicles and got out.

  A couple of cops were trying to keep a news crew away from the building. Lost among them I could see Elizabeth trying to ask questions of an elderly policeman. She saw me and nodded her head. I pointed towards the warehouse and she got the hint. She pushed forward suddenly against the policeman she was talking to, screaming that she had a right to talk to District Attorney Archer. The second officer came to his partner’s rescue. I walked towards the building and found my way to the door. The two cops took no notice of me as they tried to reason with a suddenly hysterical Elizabeth.

  At the door stood a younger policeman. He looked at me, but never said a word as I entered the building trying to look as though I belonged. In the distance I could see a light from around a corner. Voices traveled from that direction as well. Boxes lined the aisle and reached to the ceiling. I walked along the aisle towards the light. I poked my head around the corner. Three policemen photographed the scene, taking pictures from every angle. From the ceiling in the middle of the warehouse hung Daniel Miles. His head slouched over his shoulder, a single hole in the middle of his forehead. A rope was tied to his hands and reached up into the rafters above. His feet barely touched the floor.

  Archer stood at a distance watching the proceedings with a cop at his left whispering in his ear. He had changed over the years. At one point, he had been a robust man, with paunches of fat. Now, he was thin, his face drawn back, eyes receded into his skull. A bald spot lay on top of his head and tufts of gray scraggly hair protruded from the sides. He didn't look distinguished anymore. That's what I most remembered about Archer. Very well put together. The man that stood in the middle of that room did not care about his appearance.

  I remembered Archer's wife, Celia. How did that beautiful creature with the enchanting green eyes end up with this rundown bag of bones? It figures that she ended up with Graber. Something made it inevitable. I looked at Archer and realized that murder could do to a man what had been done to this one. If I remembered correctly there was no love lost between Archer and Graber. Like everyone else Graber hated Archer and Archer made no exception of Graber and treated him like an inferior.

  I turned to leave, but standing there watching me was the young policeman who had been standing guard at the door. He grabbed me around my arm and hauled me towards Archer. Archer just stood there for a second with a frown on his face as the cop dragged me towards him. The cop let go of me. I stared into the steely gray eyes framed by crooked spectacles of a man I despised.

  "So little Joey Junior, how are you?”

  "Call me that again and those photographers will be taking pictures of you," I said motioning towards the three police photographers still clicking endless pictures.

  “They’re already busy taking pictures of your handiwork,” Archer said with a smirk.

  I walked over towards the body and looked up into the face of Daniel Miles. His eyes were open. They looked sad and content at the same time. A small trickle of blood had run down his face from the hole in his forehead and dried.

  "How long has he been dead?" I asked.

  A man, whom I could only assume was the coroner said, "Time of death was somewhere between 6:00 and 8:00 this evening."

  "Shut up," Archer said and walked over to me, grabbed me by the arm and led me out of the building. I could have resisted, but I didn’t want to spend the rest of the day in a cell.

  "Is this what they call the long arm of the law?" I asked as I let him lead me outside.

  He released me and stood looking me over. He didn't speak, just tried to size me up. He looked tired and weary. He took a long cigar from inside his vest pocket, bit off the tip, shoved it in his mouth and lit it with a Zippo that came from his right trousers pocket. He puffed contentedly at the stogie. He reached into the front pocket of his vest and retrieved an old-fashioned watch on a chain. He put it back and looked up into the clear sky.

  “Wait. Did you accuse me of murder in there?” I asked.

  "What are you doing up at this late hour?"

  "I couldn't sleep. It's humid."

  "You just happened to be walking along the beach, out of town, through the woods and accidentally into this abandoned mill?"

  "I got lost," I said. "It's been a long time."

  "It has. How is your father?"

  "Oh, about the same. And Dempsey?"

  "So you haven’t just been wasting your time."

  "I like to know the score.”

  He removed a cigar from his inside pocket and offered it to me. I shook my head and he returned it back into its cubbyhole. He took a few more puffs on the cigar, before speaking again.

  "How long you plan on staying?"

  "Long enough to clear up a few things."

  "What few things?"

  "You know damn well what."

  He shook a long bony finger in my direction. “That is a police investigation.”

  “It is a police investigation. What is the district attorney doing out at this time of night?”

  “You know the district attorney runs the police department in this town.”

  “Now, isn’t that convenient. Wouldn’
t want pesky things like facts to get in the way of your court cases.”

  “Let the police handle it.”

  “The way the police handled your wife’s murder.”

  That caught him on the chin. He actually stepped back away from me. “My wife left me. She is not dead.”

  “Like Brad Graber isn’t dead?”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that. I hope that isn't one of the things you would like to clear up."

  "Might help me find who killed my brother and Daniel in there."

  "What makes you think the two crimes are even related?"

  "Just a hunch," I said. "Could I come see you tomorrow? I think we may have some things to talk about."

  "My office is open to any law-abiding citizens."

  "Of course it is," I said and walked towards my car. "And a few non-law-abiding ones as well."

  From behind me I could hear Archer drop his cigar and crush it beneath his patent leather shoes. "Let the police handle it."

  “By the way, you look like shit,” I said over my shoulder. He didn’t respond. I got in my Jeep and drove back to Rae's apartment, parked the car and went back up to her room. I went into the kitchen and fixed myself a little glass of brandy. I couldn't find any snifters, so I poured it into a regular glass and poured it down my throat. I winced with disgust. I hated brandy. I rinsed the glass and put it in the dishwasher, along with some other dirty dishes and went into the bedroom.

  Rae was gone.

  22

  The bed was made and her room clean. I went into the bathroom, no sign of her. Everything was just as tidy in there. I went back into the bedroom and started looking for a note. I glanced out the window and down to the street below. Her car was gone. I walked out of the apartment and down to my own car, got in and drove to the Dempsey house playing a hunch. I parked a good hundred yards from the gate. I made my way around the big iron fence until I came to the place I remembered. The hazy glow of dawn hung in the air.

  A tall tree I had used to sneak in to see Rae still overhung the fence. Somehow, I remembered climbing that tree being a lot easier as a ten-year-old. I made my way out onto the branch and heard a snapping sound from behind. When I looked back I saw the branch snap and I fell to the ground on the other side of the fence. I hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of me. The sky started to swirl and it took a few minutes before I could get my bearings. After checking my limbs, which seemed to be in working condition, I tried to stand. That wasn't such a bright idea and I sat back down. Looking up at the broken branch about twelve feet above me, I thanked God that I didn't break open my skull. I tried standing again after a little bit and found myself able to keep my balance.

  I made my way through the brush that emptied out on the back side of the Dempsey house. Hiding in the bushes I could see a light coming from the window that I remembered being the study. The soft glow of the rising sun framed the house. Through the window I saw Rae pacing back and forth talking rapidly. I moved myself through the brush to get a better view through the window and saw Dempsey in pajamas sitting in a chair, his hands folded at his mouth, pondering what his daughter was telling him. When I had curled up and fell to sleep that night thoughts of a rekindled romance danced through my head. I wish I could say that I didn’t care. That it didn’t hurt like hell. I had given it up a long time ago. Walked away without a care in the world. There were many days through the years that I thought about Rae. Those days became fewer and further between as the years rolled on. But seeing her again, being with her again. I had been a fool to think that she harbored the same feelings.

  Anger swelled up in my body. Dempsey had prostituted his own daughter for information. Just like he prostituted his girlfriend to get close to Michael. What kind of a man does that? What kind of a woman allows themselves to be used in that manner? I wanted to rush into the house and kill them both. After I had seen enough I made my way back to the fence and found the tree on their side of the fence that I had used to get back. It was a tidy little arrangement when I was a boy, but not anymore. The last tree had broken and this one would probably do the same. I looked around a little more for another way out, but found none. I went back to the tree and started climbing once again. I moved quickly this time out on the limb and heard it crack. I got to the edge, hung myself down from the limb and it broke, but I was already dangling, so I only dropped six feet, instead of twelve and I landed on my feet, but my ankle gave way and I fell on my back side once again. I tried standing, but the ankle was already swelling. I looked at the two trees. Broken. The intense pain subsided to a dull throb after a while. I stood and limped back to my Jeep, got in and drove back to my apartment. I wanted so desperately to go in, put some ice on my ankle and pass out. Fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it had a different plan for me that evening it seemed. I didn't plan on inspecting the dead body of Daniel Miles. I certainly didn't expect to be falling out of trees. I didn’t expect to be hiding behind bushes in the Dempsey back yard like a jealous husband and I didn't expect to see Charles emerge from the apartment building.

  Something pushed me forward and I watched him get into an old Caddy and drive off. I started up my Jeep and started to trail him. He didn't seem to notice the two beams of light two blocks behind him at six in the morning. For some reason I think I would have wondered why someone was out so late, or early, depending on how you looked at things. He turned left onto Main and it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe Charles was going to work. Imagine that. I was starting to feel a little punchy. My brains were all scrambled. I had decided to go back to my apartment and pass out for a week when Charles blew right on by The Malice Times and continued down Main Street heading for the hills. Considering I had just come from the Dempsey mansion and the hills above I was in no great hurry to get back up there, but I pressed on hoping that something nice and peaceful would happen. When Charles pulled into my father's driveway I knew there was little chance of that. I pulled my car past the old homestead and stopped about twenty feet beyond. I really didn't feel like walking too far on a bum ankle. It was screaming for some Vicodin and a meat cleaver, but I ignored it.

  I got out of the car and limped very slowly up the driveway towards Charles' car. Charles went around the left side of the house and towards what could only be my father's study. That was the only door on the left side of the house. I debated following, but instead stopped at the car and peered in. There didn't seem to be much of anything inside. Slowly I opened the door and crawled inside the car. I opened the glove compartment and checked it out. There was nothing. I inspected the back seat. There were some fast food wrappers and a few hard, cold French fries. I found a little bit of luck between the passenger and driver's seat. In the crevice where seat met plastic I found a white substance. I swooped up as much as I could and licked my finger. Cocaine. There was no doubt of that, but what did that tell me other than Charles did drugs. I could have guessed that without this little adventure. The fact that he was in my father's house at the time when I found the cocaine in his car got me thinking of his dealer. I slipped out of the car and closed the door gently. I wanted to press my luck and see if I could get a look. I started up the drive to the house when I heard a noise. I scurried, or rather stumbled down the driveway.

  When I turned around at the bottom of the driveway, I saw Charles walking down the driveway. I could see he had blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. That answered one question. I went back to my car, fired it up and headed home. I put some ice on my right ankle and lay in bed. I thought about what had transpired that night as light started streaming through the windows. Charles didn't come home, that I heard. Then again I fell asleep almost immediately. There were no dreams that night, just the throb of my ankle keeping me in a state of semi-consciousness.

  23

  When I woke a few hours later I found my body failing. Getting out of bed was a task equal to a morning after a heavy night of drinking. I managed to position myself at the side of the bed, face bu
ried in my two swollen hands. My ankle felt like it had been put through a meat grinder. When I looked at the palms of my hands I realized they actually looked like they had gone through a meat grinder. There were two large open circular wounds on my left hand, one in the center, the other at the base of my pinkie finger. On my right hand was a single circular wound in the center, as if someone had pounded a nail through it.

  The clock on the end table read eleven-thirty. I tried standing, but realized instantly that was a bad move. I fell over and onto my chest, bracing my fall with my hands. The open sores screamed at me for the stupidity that is inherent in the human race. My head pounded where I had been hit two nights before. I slowly stood up and limped into the bathroom. I didn't feel like taking a shower, but one look in the medicine cabinet mirror convinced me otherwise. My hair was matted down with sweat and dirt. The whites of my eyes were red and the pupils were non-existent in the heavy light of the bathroom. Running along my right cheek was a long thin scratch. A blob of blood was stuck at the bottom of the scratch where it had clotted. I wiped away the blood and it turned to dust. The medicine cabinet revealed only a bottle of generic aspirin. I tossed four into my mouth, turned on the cold water, lowered my mouth under the running faucet and swallowed them. I removed the clothes from the night before and saw that my hands weren't the only things scarred. My body was a roadmap of scratches. Dried blood hung from each wound. I maneuvered gently into the shower. The water stung, but felt cleansing at the same time. It took a bit of effort, but I finally made it to The Malice Times, which turned out to be not such a great idea. Regina, Dulcy and Elizabeth pounced on me as soon as I entered, all trying to tell me something at the same time.

  "Wait," I said. "Regina, you first."

  "Mr. Dempsey and his mate are here," Regina said.