Death Blow

20

Master Chief Petty Officer Gordon MacKenzie, switched the phone to the other hand. He wiped perspiration off his palm and then mopped his forehead with a tissue from a box on his desk.

“Oh yes, Mrs. Fernandez, I am worried about what this might do to Nancy Dobler. That’s why I want you to be the one to tell her. Will Dobler has been wounded in action and survived and is still in the platoon. I want to be sure that she understands that the wound is not critical, he’s in no danger of dying, and that he should be treated there in the hospital onboard the aircraft carrier and then he’ll be sent home to Balboa here in about two weeks.”

Maria Fernandez had cringed when the master chief called her, sure that her husband had been wounded. She had relaxed a little when she realized that it was Will Dobler. Then she was even more worried — about Nancy.

“Master Chief, I’m glad you called me first. I’ll go over and see her today, set up a movie date for us and Milly DeWitt. We’re her support group. We’ll handle it. Tell her before we go out and get any crying jag over with, then have dinner and a movie…. Yes, I’ll call Milly at work and see if she can meet us at Nancy’s place.” She hesitated, wondering if the master chief should be the one to tell Nancy with her two friends there. She changed her mind and closed the talk on a high note about having the master chief over for a real southern crawfish dinner.

Maria put down the phone and frowned. Nancy had been a little better lately after her last problem. She had cut way back on her drinking and refused to have any drugs in the house. For now, that is. Maria made reservations for three at eight o’clock at the Seafood Grotto. Nancy did love good seafood. Two hours at Nancy’s should be enough to get the crying all done. She smiled. She was sure before it was over, all three of them would be crying. At least a little.

Milly offered only a quiet, “Oh, no,” when Maria told her the news. She said good idea about the dinner and movie. She’d be at Nancy’s by six.

Maria had been to several Navy-sponsored forums and talks about how to handle the stress on a family of wounds and MIA and KIA. They had been aimed at wives and even children of Navy personnel. Maria had gone out of a sense of duty, because her husband was in one of the most dangerous jobs in the Navy. Now she wished that she had paid better attention and learned more. She remembered some of it. Should they have a priest or minister there? No, that would be for a KIA notification. That would scare Nancy into an immediate blowout.

Maria called Nancy that afternoon and suggested the night out. It had been over a week since they had done anything like this. Nancy had been delighted.

“I even know what film I want to see. It’s that new one with Andrea Hightower in it. She is going to be a big star for years. Did you see her in Wicked Can’t Hide? Andrea was just fantastic. Now this new one is Where Virgins Dare Not Walk. It has good reviews. Dinner first, right, then the movie. We can get it at the Ken Theatre at nine forty-five. We can eat and run.”

That night at six-thirty, after Maria stumbled through the carefully thought-out way she had worked out to tell Nancy about Will, Nancy blinked once and nodded.

“Well, thank God he isn’t critical. I don’t know how I’d finish raising these kids without him.” Nancy didn’t cry. Not a tear not a wail and no hysterics or storming around the house.

When Nancy didn’t cry, Milly was startled, and then deeply concerned. “This is the kind of injury that the military used to call a million-dollar wound,” Milly said. “It wouldn’t kill you, wouldn’t mess up the rest of your life, but it was serious enough to get you sent home.”

“Master Chief MacKenzie didn’t want to tell me himself, did he? I’ll tease him about that. That rough, tough old coot is a big jelly roll inside.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Well, we have that out of the way, why don’t we go to dinner early? I’ve left food in the oven for the kids. They’ll do fine here until we get back.”

They all splurged with lobster and steak and each one paid her own check as usual. The meal was served well; the background music was delightful; and the lobster was local, fresh caught, and cost a small fortune. Milly watched Nancy for any sign of cracking, any small fissure that might grow and build into a huge cave-in somewhere in the near future. She saw nothing. If anything, Nancy was better than usual. Now she was making plans for what they would do when Will came home.

“How long do you think he’ll be in Balboa?” Nancy asked.

“When Miguel was wounded more than a year ago, he was in the hospital for three weeks, but he had a nasty chest wound that they had trouble with. This wounded leg sounds far less serious. He could be out in a week at the most.”

“Good,” Nancy said. “When he gets home we’re going to go see every one of the San Diego county parks. There are something like twenty of them. We’ll go picnic or hike or swim and whatever the park is about. I’ve always wanted to do that. This is the perfect time.”

“We got up to see the Flower Fields at Carlsbad this year,” Milly said. “We try every summer, but this time we made it. The blooms are gone now, mostly renunculas. Fifty-five acres of them, so many brilliant colors sweeping up this half mile of hill. Amazing, truly amazing.”

They chattered away over coffee and then decided on dessert. The dinner lasted so long they missed the movie they were going to see. Milly was pleased. The whole situation looked to be under control. Nancy was acting hurt and a little bewildered, but seemed genuinely pleased that Will would be coming home soon, maybe within the week. Yes, they had been lucky this time. This was exactly the kind of shock or trauma that might set Nancy off again.

They left in their individual cars, so nobody would have to backtrack. Nancy’s three-year-old Chevy was in immaculate condition. Will kept it that way. She was his newborn and he babied her.

“Take care, you guys,” Nancy said. “We’ll see you next week for our regular dinner. It’s at my place this time. Bye.”

The three women got in their cars. Nancy drove off. Maria waited a minute until Nancy’s car was out of sight, then she went over to Milly’s car.

“What do you think?” Milly asked.

“Not sure, but she sounded good. No wild screaming or ranting and raving. This time she had just cause to get upset, but she didn’t. Seemed to me like she took it well.”

“I hope so. I had the same impression. Maybe we got lucky this time.” They looked at each other.

“Hey, I’ll call you if I hear anything else about the platoon.”

“Yes,” Milly said. “We’ve got to stay in touch.” They both drove out of the restaurant parking lot.

Down the street a half mile, Nancy slowed and pulled to the curb. It was a residential only a few blocks from her home. She put her head on the steering wheel. The tears came in a rush, then the pain and anger stormed out of her, and she screamed in fury and beat the steering wheel with her hands. Wetness streamed down her checks. She couldn’t just sit there. Nancy jumped out of the car and ran down the block fast. She sprinted and didn’t even feel the strain. She sprinted back to the car and began to wheeze and cough and then slammed her fist against the hood. It didn’t dent but her hand hurt so much she thought she might have broken it.

“God damn it, why me?” Nancy bellowed into the night sky. “Why am I always the fucking punching bag?” The second scream was almost as loud as the first one and brought a flash of room lights on the second floor of a house across the street.

Now the exhaustion hit her from the two long blocks of sprinting. She sagged against the car, then opened the door and slumped into the driver’s side.

“Harry’s Place,” she said softly. Nobody knew her from Marilyn Monroe at Harry’s place.

At first she stayed in a booth near the back, drinking quietly and quickly. On her sixth bourbon on the rocks, the waitress asked her if she was sure that she wanted it.

“You’re alone, honey. You have somebody to come take you home? I can’t let you out of here if you’re driving.”

Nancy looked up at her and brushed new tears away from her cheeks streaking the already smudged mascara. She stared back at the waitress and tipped up the bourbon and didn’t lower it until the glass was empty.

“I’ll go call you a cab. The manager is worried about you.”

As soon as the waitress left. Nancy pushed out of the seat, almost topped over, fell against the table and gained her balance. She looked at the front door, then headed for the side door. The manager ran in front of her.

“Lady, I can’t let you go driving in your condition. Now just relax. I called a cab and I’m paying for it. Give me your keys and you can come get your car tomorrow afternoon. We open at two.”

Nancy stopped, reached into her purse but what came out was her fist that she used to take a swing at the manager. He jumped back then stepped ahead inside and caught both her arms.

“Get your hands off me you slob,” Nancy snarled.

“Lady, I’d love to, but I could lose my license, understand? Nothing personal, it’s just business.”

She looked away, and when he looked in that direction she brought up her knee and rammed it into his crotch as hard as she could.

The manager bellowed in pain and swayed backward, dropping his hands from her arms and slumping to his knees. He held his crotch and keened in pain, then fell over on the floor, his hands protecting his genitals from any more damage.

Nancy looked at him a minute, snorted, and went out the side door to her car. She saw a taxi flash into the parking lot and turn toward the front door.

She hurried then, almost fell, bounced off a fender but kept her feet. She found her car, slid in, and locked the doors, then started the Chevy. She backed out of the slot slowly, with elaborate care, and cautiously turned toward the street.

Nancy prided herself that she had never had to ask someone to drive her home or get a cab after a few drinks. Always made it home. Always.

She shook her head and stared at the street. Which way? Oh, yeah, to the left. She hit the gas and spurted into the street and barely missed a car coming at her in the right-hand lane. She blew her horn at the guy and laughed, then blinked to get a better view of the street. So damn dark out there. Lights were on, yeah, mine? Yeah. She thought the street was narrow and before she could correct, she sideswiped a car parked at the curb.

She scowled and drove on, just a little crinkle fender, no big deal. Had to get home. She heard some horns honking at her but ignored them. Somebody behind her? She speeded up. Fifty miles an hour on a Coronado street? Oh, hell yes. Get home faster that way.

The light had just turned red, and she was thirty feet from it. No way she could stop. Hell, nobody coming this time of night. She hit the accelerator to slip through fast before a cop saw her and then she caught just a flash of yellow to her right.

Nancy wasn’t sure what happened next. She felt the impact as her front bumper slammed into the driver’s door of a yellow convertible. She jolted forward. Her head hit the steering wheel, and then the wheel smashed into her breasts. After that everything whirled and spun and she saw the convertible tip over and her Chevy ride up onto the wheels and undercarriage of the other car. A moment later she passed out.

Lieutenant Commander Blake Murdock and Father O’Connor went to see Senior Chief Boatswain’s Mate Willard Dobler in the hospital section of the huge carrier.

Dobler looked up, saw Murdock and grinned, then frowned when he saw the crosses on the other officer’s collar.

“I know I’ve missed mass for a few years, Father, but you didn’t have to come all the way out here—” He stopped. Neither of them was going to laugh. His grin turned to a frown tinged with the redness of fear. “What is it? My family?”

The priest looked at Murdock who had asked to lead the team.

“Yes, Will. Nancy was in a car crash. She got banged up a little bit but only spent one night in the hospital.”

“Thank God. Were the kids with her?”

“No, she was alone. Your Chevy is pretty well totaled.”

“So, we can replace the car. Is Nancy really okay? She must not be, why else would you both be here? What’s the problem?”

“She ran a red light, Will. Broadsided a couple of kids in a convertible. One of them died. She was drunk, Will. The manager of the bar she left said he tried to stop her. She fought with him, kneed him in the groin, and rushed out of the bar. Five minutes later the kid was dead.”

Will ducked his head and covered his face with his hands. “She went off again. Did she know about my getting wounded? That must have set her off. Damn, she must be in jail.”

“She is, Will. It only happened two days ago. Yesterday they had the arraignment. She’s being charged with second-degree murder.

Will had been sitting up. Now his face sagged, his eyes watered and then closed and he lay back on the bed.

“Will,” Murdock said.

“Get the hell out of here, both of you. Go. Just go. God damn it I thought she could hold it together a few more months. God damn it to hell. It’s my fault. I should have known it was coming. Happened often enough before. God damn it to hell, what the fuck am I going to do now?”

Murdock waved the priest out of the small room and sat in the chair beside the bed.

“Listen up, Chief, and I’ll tell you exactly what you’re going to do. I’ve arranged for you to fly out this afternoon on the COD to T’aipei. From there you catch an ambulance aircraft with a couple of stops and then you hit San Diego and Balboa in fifteen to twenty hours, something like that.

“When you get to San Diego, a lawyer I know who is a top man in criminal law in town and owes me a bunch of favors will take your case pro bono. Not a red cent. He usually gets twenty-five thousand down and three hundred an hour. He will tell you what he’s going to do. First he’ll get the bail knocked down from a million dollars to something like fifty thousand, since you’re Navy and Nancy is not a flight risk. Then he’ll get Nancy home and get you out of Balboa and she’ll settle down. Is every little thing clear?”

Will looked up. “Yes, sir, Commander, yes sir. Sorry I lost it there.”

“Next, the priest is coming back in here so you can apologize to him for your bad language and atrocious manners. Then we’ll see about getting you in motion.”

Four days later, Senior Chief Dobler came out of the Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego in a wheelchair and hobbled on crutches into Maria Fernandez’s Chevrolet.

“Good to see you, Will. Hear you’re healing like a whirlwind. That lawyer of yours is a dandy. I was in court yesterday. He pulled out all the strings and got the bail battered down to thirty thousand. We’ll drive by a bail bondsman. You said you could write him a check for three thousand, which is the ten percent. Then Nancy should be out and waiting for us to pick her up by noon tomorrow.”

Dobler eased into the cushion and tried to keep tears out of his eyes. “Everyone’s been so damn good to us. I certainly do appreciate it, and I know Nancy does.”

Maria looked over and smiled. “Hey, Chief, you’re family. We’re not gonna let our family down. Your kids have been at my place but they insisted they would be fine at home now that you’re going to be there. Helen says she’s fifteen now and can be chief cook until her mom gets home and Charlie will be bottle washer.”

Two hours later, the bail was posted and the process started at the Las Colinas Women’s Detention Center in nearby Lakeside. Maria drove over the Coronado Bay bridge from San Diego and up to the Dobler house. Both kids waited on the front lawn for him and rushed out and grabbed him. He used the crutches to get to the house, then spread out in his favorite recliner chair and the two kids hugged him again.

Maria went back to the car and drove home. Dobler had assured her that Miguel was fine, hadn’t been injured or wounded and was a good man to have on your side.

Will didn’t remember what Helen had fixed for dinner that night but be complimented her on it and she glowed. Then he settled down in his recliner, channel surfed the TV for a while, then took a nap. He was home. Nancy would be there tomorrow, and they would work through whatever problems faced them. Together, they would do it together. The lawyer had talked briefly with him that evening and said that if they didn’t want to go to trial there would almost certainly be some kind of a plea bargain they could make. The charges would get knocked down to manslaughter two but the chances of Nancy having to do at least two years in prison would be hard to get around. Dobler understood. A young man, twenty-two, had died and his girlfriend would be in a wheelchair for six months to repair the damage to her legs. He understood. He didn’t like it, but he knew there was no way around it. They would simply have to adapt.

At noon the next day, Maria and Dobler picked up Nancy at the discharge point of the Detention Center in Lakeside, seven miles north and east of San Diego. Nancy had her head down as she walked to the car. Maria put her in the back seat with Will, but she sat on the side as far from him as she could get.

She wouldn’t talk. Will moved over toward her, then pulled her over to him and put her head on his shoulder. Slowly she relaxed and before they were at the bay bridge, Nancy Dobler began to cry softly, wetting his shoulder and bringing dampness to Will’s eyes as well.

By the time they pulled up in front of the Dobler home, Nancy had her head on Will’s chest and her crying had stopped. His arms were around here. Neither of them had spoken yet. Maria eased out of the car so the two could be alone. She walked up to the house and talked with the kids who had been waiting.

Will tried. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” The words came out softly yet smothered with so much emotion that he could hardly understand them himself. Nancy turned and looked up him.

“Sweetheart… I didn’t mean… I didn’t try to hurt that boy.” She broke down again and he held her while she sobbed.

It was a half hour later before Nancy opened the door and helped Will out of the car and onto his crutches. His right leg was still heavily bandaged, and he wore shorts to give the wrappings room. He eased onto the crutches and they walked slowly up the sidewalk and into the door.

Maria had been talking to the kids, and now Helen and Charlie waited inside, and let their mother come to them. She did, hugged each one and kissed them. Being home made her feel better. Yes. Holding the kids was what she needed. Nancy thanked Maria, hugged her and then walked her to the door.

When she came back Nancy felt like her old self. She looked around and then at the kids. “Okay, you guys, who have you hired to clean up this place? It’s practically spotless.”

“Dad pulled an inspection,” Charlie said. “Gave us all morning to get the place ready.”

Nancy laughed. It was the first time in almost a week. “Yep, that sounds like our Will. Navy right down to the old gonads.” That made them all laugh.

Helen had been making dinner. She continued. There would be broiled herb chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, frozen peas, a fruit salad, and ice cream sundaes for desert. Nancy watched her with amazement.

“Whoever taught you to cook, young lady?”

Nancy turned, a sparkle in her eye. “A wise old Hindu monk who came only when I was alone in the kitchen.” Then she smiled. “I’ve been watching you for years, Mom. You’re a great cook.”

Nancy felt the tears coming again and thanked her daughter and left the room to find a box of tissues. It was so good to be home if even for a short time.

The phone rang and Nancy grabbed it out of habit. She always got the phone because sometimes raucous shipmates from years before would call up and usually Will didn’t want to go meet them for a drinking bout.

“Yes, good afternoon.”

“Mrs. Dobler. I’m Harry Justin, your lawyer. We met briefly at your arraignment. We need to do a lot of backgrounding. Could I come over tonight for a couple of hours?”

“Mr. Justin I appreciate what you have done for me and are doing. But I just now made it home. I’d really like to have tonight with the family. Would that be all right?”

“Yes, but I’ll call tomorrow. There is a lot I need to know about the stress of being a SEAL wife on top of the normal Navy problems. Yes, let’s do it tomorrow. I’ll call you about noon and set up something.”

That night after dinner, they turned off the TV and played dominoes the way they used to when the kids were learning to add and subtract.

“Been a long time, Mom,” Helen said.

“You can talk, you’re a hundred points ahead,” Will cracked.

Later that night, Nancy tenderly made love to Will, being careful of his wounded leg.

“Yes it was good for me,” Nancy said, poking Will in the shoulder as they lay side by side relaxing. “Tonight was a wonderful time. Something to remember.”

“Baby, I think it’s time we talk about my getting out of the platoon. I want to stay in the SEALs, but I won’t be on field duty. We talked about it once before. I’ll be in a support group somewhere, maybe supply or the boats. Lots of spots where I can save my rate. Then I get in the rest of my twenty years and we’ll talk about me finding some other type of employment.”

“But you love the SEALs, sweetheart. You’ve told me a dozen times that if you had to leave the platoon, you’d just as soon quit the Navy. I don’t want you to have to make that decision. Not on account of me. Look, Will. I understand this DUI I’ve got and the murder charge or manslaughter two, or whatever it comes down to. I know that means I’m going to have to do some time. That fancy lawyer is good, but he can’t get me a walk. We both know that. So, no more talk about quitting the platoon. Your wound won’t keep you out. You’re only thirty-seven. You’ve got another two good years with the kids out there swimming around. Now keep quiet. Has Big Boy down there had a long enough rest? I’m still just as horny as hell and there’s only one way to stop that itch.”

“Damn, sexy woman, it’s only been a half hour.” He laughed. “Hell, yes, Big Boy is coming up again and raring to go.”

The next morning, Will drove over to the SEALs base. It was only a little over two miles and he proved to Nancy that he could drive. He braked with his left foot.

Nancy went back inside the house and sat a moment looking around the place. Then she did a clean-up, putting everything in place. She laid out the menu for dinner that night, and made sure that all of the food was in the refrigerator or on the shelf. The kids were in school and would be home about three thirty.

Then she went into the bedroom, picked up a leather bag from the night stand, and took it into the bathroom. She cleaned the room until it sparkled, then sat down in the tub, and pulled the shower curtain so it hung inside the tub.

Nancy took the .45 caliber automatic pistol from the leather pouch and racked the slide back the way Will had taught her years ago. Yes, a round moved into the chamber. She flipped off the safety and put the muzzle up to the side of her head just above her ear.

Nancy said a short prayer, then pulled the trigger.