Gone for Good

37

Another officer the fifth, by my count came to hear my story.

"I want to know how she is first," I said.

The doctor had stopped working on me. In the movies, the doctor always defends his patients. He tells the cop that they cannot question him right now, that he needs his rest. My doctor, an emergency room intern from, I think, Pakistan, had no such hang-up. He popped back my shoulder while they began their grilling. He poured iodine on my wrist wounds. He toyed with my nose. He took out a hacksaw what a hospital was doing with a hacksaw I don't want to know and cut off my handcuffs, all while I got grilled. I was still wearing my sleeping boxers and pajama top. The hospital had covered my bare feet with paper sandals.

"Just answer my question," the cop said.

This had been going on for two hours now. The adrenaline had died down, and the ache was starting to gnaw on my bones. I'd had enough.

"Yeah, okay, you got me," I said. "First, I put cuffs on both my hands. Then I broke up some furniture, fired several bullets into the walls, choked her nearly to death in my own apartment, and then called the police on myself. You got me."

"Could have worked that way," the officer said. He was a big man with a waxy mustache that made me think of a barbershop quartet. He had given me his name, but I stopped caring three cops ago.

"Excuse me?"

"A ruse maybe."

"I dislocated my shoulder and cut up my hands and broke my bed to divert suspicion?"

He gave a classic cop-shrug. "Hey, I had a guy one time, he cut off his dick so we wouldn't think he killed his girl. Said a bunch of black guys attacked them. Thing is, he only meant to cut it a little but he ended up slicing all the way through."

"That's a great story," I said.

"Could be the same thing here."

"My penis is fine, thanks for caring."

"You tell us about some guy breaking in. Neighbors heard the shots."

"Yes."

He gave me the skeptical eyes. "So how come none of your neighbors saw him running out?"

"Because and this is just a wild stab in the dark it was two in the morning?"

I was still sitting up on the examining table. My legs hung off. They were starting to go to sleep from the angle. I hopped down.

"Where do you think you're going?" the cop asked.

"I want to see Katy."

"I don't think so." The cop twitched the mustache. "Her parents are with her right now."

He studied my face for a reaction. I tried not to give him one.

The mustache twitched. "Her father has some pretty strong opinions about you," he said.

"I bet he does."

"He thinks you did this."

"For what purpose?"

"You mean what motive?"

"No, I mean purpose, intent. Do you think I was trying to kill her?"

He crossed his arms and shrugged. "Sounds reasonable to me."

"Then why did I call you while she was still alive?" I asked. "I went through this big ruse, right? So why didn't I finish her off?"

"Strangling someone isn't that easy," he said. "Maybe you thought she was dead."

"You realize, of course, how idiotic that sounds."

The door behind him opened, and Pistillo entered. He gave me a look as heavy as the ages. I closed my eyes and massaged the bridge of my nose with my forefinger and thumb. Pistillo was with one of the cops who had questioned me earlier. The cop signaled to his mustached compadre. The mustached cop looked annoyed by the interruption, but he followed the other one out the door. I was alone now with Pistillo.

He did not say anything at first. Pistillo circled the room, studying the glass jar of cotton balls, the tongue depressors, the hazardous-waste disposal can. Hospital rooms normally smell of antiseptic, but this one reeked of male-flight-attendant cologne. I did not know if it was from a doctor or cop, but I could see Pistillo's nose twitch in disgust. I was already used to it.

"Tell me what happened," he said.

"Didn't your friends with the NYPD fill you in?"

"I told them I wanted to hear it from you," Pistillo said. "Before they throw your ass in jail."

"I want to know how Katy is."

He weighed my request for a second or two. "Her neck and vocal cords will be sore, but she'll be fine."

I closed my eyes and let the relief flow over me.

"Start talking," Pistillo said.

I told him what happened. He stayed quiet until I got to the part about her shouting out the name "John."

"Any idea who John is?" he asked.

"Maybe."

"I'm listening."

"A guy I knew when I was growing up. His name is John Asselta."

Pistillo's face dropped.

"You know him?" I asked.

He ignored my question. "What makes you think she was talking about Asselta?"

"He's the one who broke my nose."

I filled him in on the Ghost's break-in and assault. Pis-tillo did not look happy.

"Asselta was looking for your brother?"

"That's what he said."

His face reddened. "Why the hell didn't you tell me this before?"

"Yeah, it's weird," I said. "You've always been the guy I could turn to, the friend I could trust with anything."

He stayed angry. "Do you know anything about John Asselta?"

"We grew up in the same town. We used to call him the Ghost."

"He's one of the most dangerous wackos out there," Pistillo said. He stopped, shook his head. "It couldn't have been him."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because you're both alive."

Silence.

"He's a stone-cold killer."

"So why isn't he in jail?" I asked.

"Don't be naive. He's good at what he does."

"Killing people?"

"Yes. He lives overseas, no one knows where exactly. He's worked for government death squads in Central America. He helped despots in Africa." Pistillo shook his head. "No, if Asselta wanted her dead, we'd be tying a toe tag on her right about now."

"Maybe she meant another John," I said. "Or maybe I just heard wrong."

"Maybe." He thought about that. "One other thing I don't get. If the Ghost or anyone else wanted to kill Katy Miller, why not just do it? Why go to the trouble of cuffing you down?"

That had troubled me too, but I had come up with one possibility. "Maybe it was a setup."

He frowned. "How do you figure?"

"The killer cuffs me to the bed. He chokes Katy to death. Then" I could feel a tingle on my scalp "maybe he'd set it up to make it look like I did it." I looked up at him.

Pistillo frowned. "You're not going to say "Like my brother," are you?"

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I think I am."

"That's horse shit."

"Think about it, Pistillo. One thing you guys could never explain: Why was my brother's blood at the scene?"

"Julie Miller fought him off."

"You know better. There was too much blood for that." I moved closer to him. "Ken was framed eleven years ago, and maybe tonight someone wanted history to repeat itself."

He scoffed. "Don't be melodramatic. And let me tell you something. The cops aren't buying your Houdini-cuff-escape story. They think you tried to kill her."

"What do you think?" I asked him.

"Katy's father is here. He's riled up as all hell."

"That's hardly surprising."

"It makes you wonder, though."

"You know I didn't do it, Pistillo. And despite your theatrics yesterday, you know I didn't kill Julie."

"I warned you to stay away."

"And I chose not to heed your warning."

Pistillo let loose a long breath and nodded. "Exactly, tough guy, so here's how we're going to play it." He stepped closer and tried to stare me down. I did not blink. "You're going to jail."

I sighed. "I think I've already surpassed my minimum daily requirement of threats today."

"No threat, Will. You're going to be shipped off to jail this very night."

"Fine, I want a lawyer."

He looked at his watch. "Too late for that. You'll spend the night in lockup. Tomorrow you'll get arraigned. The charges will be attempted murder and assault two. The D.A."s office will claim that you're a flight risk case in point: your brother and they'll ask for the judge to deny bail. My guess is, the judge will grant it."

I started to speak but he held up a hand. "Save your breath because and you're not going to like this I don't care if you did it or not. I'm going to find enough evidence to convict you. And if I can't find it, I'll create it. Go ahead, tell your lawyer about this chat. I'll just deny it. You're a murder suspect who's helped hide his killer-brother for eleven years. I'm one of the country's most respected law enforcement agents. Who do you think they'll believe?"

I looked at him. "Why are you doing this?"

"I told you to stay away."

"What would you have done if you were in my place? If it was your brother?"

"That's not the point. You didn't listen. And now your girlfriend is dead and Katy Miller just barely escaped with her life."

"I never hurt either one of them."

"Yeah, you did. You caused it. If you'd listened to me, you think they'd be where they are now?"

His words hit home, but I pushed on. "And what about you, Pistillo? What about your burying Laura Emerson's connection "

"Hey, I'm not here to play point-counterpoint with you. You're going to jail tonight. And make no mistake, I'll get you convicted."

He headed for the door.

"Pistillo?" When he turned around, I said, "What are you really after here?"

He stopped and leaned so that his lips were only inches from my ear. He whispered, "Ask your brother," and then he was gone.