ZERO HERO (The Kate Huntington Mystery series) (32 page)

~~~~~~~~

            Halfway through Kate’s description to the police detective of what she had seen, and not seen, in the building’s basement, Rob had figured it out. He felt a jolt of guilt for jumping to conclusions.

            “Oh, and Detective,” Kate said into her phone, “Peter Jamieson has never injected drugs, and I have reason to believe he never would.” A pause. “Okay, one of us will stay here.” She disconnected.

            “He’s on his way and he’s ordering a crime scene team.”

            Rob grimaced. “He’s gonna have a rebellion on his hands when they see that mess downstairs. That’s a CSI nightmare. Why are you so sure Pete wouldn’t shoot up?”

            Kate seemed to hesitate.

            “We’ve got a waiver,” he reminded her.

            “He’s phobic of needles.”

            A few minutes later the EMTs brought Pete out, strapped to a gurney. He was still unconscious but not quite as pale. As they were loading him in the ambulance, Kate and Rob walked over to Manny.

            “Can you stay here and try to keep people out of the basement?” Kate asked. “Tell them it’s a crime scene and the police are on the way.”

            Manny chuckled. “In this neighborhood, that’ll make ’em scatter like roaches in daylight.”

            Kate smiled at him. “Thanks so much for coming down here with me. I hate to think what would’ve happened if we hadn’t found him.”

            Manny’s expression sobered. “I’ll come over to the hospital once the cops arrive. We need somebody on his hospital room door.”

            Rob was impressed. The bodyguard had also put together the pieces.

            “We’ll follow the ambulance,” Kate said. “I’ll call Skip and fill him in.”

~~~~~~~~

            “We’ve been spending far too much time in hospital waiting rooms lately,” Rob muttered.

            Kate picked up a tattered magazine from the small table beside her chair and handed it to him. “Here, find out what Angelina Jolie’s been up to. It’ll take your mind off things.”

            He took the magazine and rolled it into a tube, grasping it like a baseball bat.

            “You look like you’re gonna take a swing at somebody with that thing. What are you so pissed about?”

             “I’m not mad.” Rob dropped the magazine back on the table and crossed his arms.

            Kate just looked at him, then snorted. She mimicked his body language. “I’m not mad,” she said in a low gruff voice.

            “Okay, now I’m mad,” he said, but his mouth quirked up a little on one end.

            Kate let the silence sit between them. When it was obvious he wasn’t going to elaborate, she asked, “Who or what are you mad at?”

            “I wish to hell I knew.” Rob looked away. “I was mad at Pete, when I thought he’d started using. Now I don’t know who I’m mad at. I guess whoever’s screwing with him. Again.”

           
So you haven’t stopped caring after all, my friend.

            After a few seconds, she said in a soft voice, “Or at the world, maybe?”

            “Yeah, at the world.” His tone was sharp. “There’s so much damn evil. We’re like that guy in those stables in the Greek myth. Constantly shoveling the shit, but the pile never gets any lower.”

            Kate paused, trying to decide what to say. She could think of several other myths with the same theme, like the guy pushing the rock that kept rolling back down the hill. She felt that way herself often enough.

            “How long have you been a lawyer?”

            Rob stared at the ceiling, calculating, then looked at her. “Close to twenty-six years.”

            “That’s a lot of shit you’ve already shoveled. It would be okay if you put down your shovel. You’ve done your part and then some.”

            Rob turned away again, but not before she saw the scowl return. “What the hell would I do?”

            “Maybe you should explore that. Open your mind to other possibilities.”

            He was still looking across the crowded ER waiting room. “I’m too young to retire.”

            “So don’t retire. People change careers all the time.” She decided on the indirect approach. “I’ve been talking to Pete about career options. It’s becoming obvious he’s not going to be able to fight fires anymore. Too much risk of retriggering the PTSD. One option we’ve been tossing around is teaching at the fire academy. He’s excited about that idea.”

            Which is why, she realized belatedly, she’d been willing to ditch her family obligations today and chase Pete down. He was so close to getting his life back on track. And as it turned out, he’d been trying to be proactive in clearing himself.

            She turned her attention back to Rob. There was a glimmer of interest in his eye. Perhaps her tactic had worked.

            “Maybe I could teach law school.”

            “Hey, that’s a good idea.”

            He narrowed his eyes at her. “It ought to be against the law for therapists to use their techniques on friends and family members.”

            She snorted softly. “We use whatever tools we’ve got. How many times have you twisted me in a knot in an argument, with your lawyer logic?”

            “I do not. I present my case clearly and succinctly.”

            She grinned at him.

            His face finally relaxed and he smiled back.

            Kate caught sight of a doctor headed toward them. She jumped up and met him halfway. Rob was right behind her.

            “Are you all related to Peter Jamieson?”

            “No.” Kate pointed to Rob. “But he’s Pete’s lawyer. I’m a... a friend. I found him.”

            “I’m also his medical surrogate,” Rob said.

            Kate gave him a startled look. “You are?”

            “It was just a precaution, since there’s nobody else in town. I’ll fax over the paperwork this afternoon, doctor, but for now, tell us how he is.”

            The doctor still looked hesitant.

            Rob’s face turned red. “Dammit, I’ve had it up to my eyebrows with bureaucracy. We’re not waiting until I can get to the office and get the papers. Tell us how the kid’s doing!”

            Kate put a restraining hand on his arm. He was starting to scare her. “Doctor, what’s Pete’s status?” That much information was released to the general public.

            “He’s still critical.”

            Kate’s throat closed. Tears pooled in her eyes. “Is he going to make it?” she managed to get out.

            Rob opened his mouth but the doctor held up his hand. He took Kate’s elbow and steered them to a less populated corner of the waiting room. Then he held out his hand to Rob.

            “Let’s start over, Mr...?”

            Rob blew out air. He shook the doctor’s hand. “Franklin. Rob Franklin. Sorry, it’s been a rough day.”

            “And I’m Kate, uh, Canfield.” She wasn’t allowed to even admit that her clients were seeing her, since that could carry a stigma. Having two last names to choose from came in handy sometimes.

            “To answer your question, Ms. Canfield, yes, he’s probably going to make it. The question is how much damage he’s done to his brain with drugs. How long has he been an addict?”

            “There’s a lot more to this than meets the eye, doctor,” Rob said. “We have reason to believe this was not a self-inflicted overdose. It was attempted murder.”

            “He’s never used heroin, or anything injectable,” Kate said. “He’s been clean and sober for nine months now.”

            The doctor nodded, with a slight smile that Kate found reassuring. “Are the police involved?”

            “Yes, a Detective Tyrell Cooper will be in touch with you,” Rob said.

            At that moment, Manny came through the ER doors. Kate waved him over and introduced him. “There will be bodyguards on Pete’s room 24/7.”

            After saying their goodbyes, Kate and Rob headed out of the hospital. “Did you notice,” Rob said, “that doctor didn’t even bat an eye when I said it was attempted murder?”

            “He works in an ER in Baltimore City. He’s seen it all.”

            Rob snorted. “Talk about shitty stables.”

~~~~~~~~

            Skip’s mood had gone from bad to downright foul. They had wasted most of a Saturday on a fool’s errand. They’d talked to over a dozen of the gals on the street and had garnered practically nothing for their efforts. Only one of them had offered anything the least bit useful.

            Elsie was a little older than the others and was starting to go to fat. The evening when Matthews was killed, she’d gone to his apartment to turn in some of her proceeds. She’d had a good afternoon, she told them, and didn’t like carrying around too much money. When she heard Jimmy yelling and banging around inside the apartment, she decided to come back later.

            About ten minutes after that, she’d been standing near the building when she heard what could have been a gunshot or a car backfiring. She wasn’t sure which it was, nor which direction the sound had come from.

            She was the only one of the women who hadn’t given Skip a disdainful look when he’d suggested now was a good time to get out of this particular profession, while there was no pimp on the scene. “Already thought of that. Saved me some money while I was workin’ for Jimmy. I’m gettin’ on a bus tomorrow to anywhere but here. Slingin’ hash in some diner is better’n this.”

            There’d been no sign of Roxie all day.

            They were walking back toward Dolph’s car when there she was, coming toward them, looking like a little girl in her mother’s clothes. Her black bra showed through the too-big semi-sheer white blouse that was tucked into a black leather miniskirt. Short lace gloves, black net stockings that bagged a little at the knees and stiletto heels completed the outfit.

           
Correction. Her mother’s clothes if her mother was a slut.
Recalling his conversation with Kate last night, he realized that was a possibility.

            Roxie had spotted them. She stopped and put her hands on her hips.

            As they got closer, she sneered at Skip. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. High-and-Mighty Married Man.”

            “We’ve been looking for you. We wanted to talk to you about one of your johns, a Mr. Paul Polinski.”

            “I ain’t talkin’ to you ’bout nothin’ or nobody.” She started to walk past him.

            Skip stepped into her path.

            Fear flickered in her eyes but she kept up the bravado. “You touch me and I’ll press charges for assault.”

            “Look, Miss Roxie,” Dolph said. “We’re not trying to harass you. We’re just trying to find out who killed Jimmy Matthews. You said you liked him, that you wanted his killer brought to justice.”

            “I done told you Frederico killed him.”

            “He denies it,” Dolph said. “And he’s willing to take a lie detector test.”

            “That lyin’ scumbag.” Her sneer was back. “Those damned tests ain’t worth shit. My stepfather passed one, when I turned him in for pesterin’ me, and the sheriff told me to stop tellin’ lies ’bout my daddy and go home like a good girl.” Despite her best efforts to maintain a tough front, a tear snuck down Roxie’s cheek. She swiped at it with lace-covered fingers.

            Skip had no idea what expression he had on his face at that moment, but whatever it was, it triggered a nasty reaction.

            “Don’t you fuckin’ look at me that way, you sonofabitch! Don’t you
dare
pity me, you limpdick asshole...”

            The rest of what she said was lost in the roar of blood rushing to his head. He clenched his fists. Then he turned and walked away, before he broke one of his cardinal rules and struck a woman.

            Halfway down the block, he glanced back over his shoulder. Dolph was still talking to Roxie, trying to play the good cop. After a minute, he headed in Skip’s direction.

            Skip slowed down to let him catch up. “You get anything out of her?”

            “Nope,” Dolph huffed out. “She claims the names of johns are confidential information.”

            Skip let out a derisive snort. “This whole damn day has been a colossal waste of time.”

            The ride back to Towson gave him time to think, which today wasn’t really a good thing. A lethargy spread over him. With a small jolt, he realized he was depressed. And he truly hated this case.

            So what did he want to do, besides nap for a month? A vague thought had been bouncing around in the back of his head for the last week or so. This time when it surfaced, instead of pushing it aside, he lassoed it and brought it in closer.

            The agency was now big enough that he and Rose spent half their time on administrative duties. They split them based on their strengths. But Rose would much prefer to be out in the field more. If he took over most or even all of the administrative stuff...

            Shame burned his cheeks. He was going to let Rose and Mac, and Dolph, take all the risks, while he sat back cozy and safe in the office?

            He glanced over at gray-haired Dolph and sank down further in his seat. A memory flashed into his mind, of his father driving him to school. And giving him advice on how to deal with the bullies who loved to pick on the scrawny sixteen-year-old named Skippy.

            He’d thought he’d left that scared teenager behind decades ago. Apparently not. The kid was still lurking inside. Had all those years of calmly facing down danger been false bravado?

            A small part of his brain told him he was being too hard on himself.

            His phone vibrated in his pocket. He fished it out. The caller ID said it was Kate.

           
Finally!

            They’d been playing telephone tag all day. A good dose of Kate was just what he needed right now to get himself centered. The knot in his stomach started to loosen even before he answered the call. “Hey darlin’. What’s up?”