Redemption

Chapter 68

“We... look, um, I think there’s a problem.”

Decker stared at Brad Gardiner, who was standing, pale and shaking, in the doorway of his home. Decker had just knocked on the door and Gardiner had flung it open.

“What sort of problem?” asked Decker.

“Mitzi... she’s locked herself in our bedroom and she won’t come out. And... and I think she has a gun. She’s threatening to shoot herself, or anyone who comes through that door.”

“Have you called the police?”

“I... no. I don’t know what to do.”

“Is anyone in the room with her? Your son?”

“No, he’s at school, thank God.”

“Anybody else?”

“I had the maid leave when... when things got weird.”

“Why are you home at this time of day?”

“I forgot some papers. I came back for them. That’s when Mitzi screamed at me when I tried to open the bedroom door.”

“Okay, is she on something? Has she been drinking?”

Gardiner seemed to be on the verge of tears. “I don’t know. What the hell is going on?”

“Show me to the bedroom.”

Decker followed him down the hall and they arrived at the door.

“Honey, I have Mr. Decker here.”

“Get him the fuck out of my house!” screamed Mitzi.

“Ms. Gardiner?” said Decker.

The next moment they both leapt back because she fired a round right through the wood. The slug missed both men and embedded in the far wall.

“Jesus Christ!” cried out Gardiner as he dropped to the floor shaking.

Decker slid over to him, keeping low. “What kind of gun does she have?”

“It’s... it’s a Sig Sauer. I bought it for her. But she picked it out.”

“What model?”

“Um...”

“Think!”

“P238.”

“What’s it look like?”

“Small. She can carry it in her clutch purse.”

“P238 Micro Compact chambered in.380 auto?”

“Yes, that’s it. Exactly.”

“Standard mag with it, or did she do something special?”

“No, standard.”

Decker nodded. “Call the police and wait for them by the front door.”

“What the hell are you two doing out there?” screamed Mitzi, followed by another shot through the door.

With one backward glance at the door, Gardiner did as Decker requested, sliding down the hall on his hands and knees. Then he rose and sprinted off. Decker straightened and, keeping well away from the bedroom door, said, “Mitzi, it’s Amos Decker.”

“I said to get out of my house, you bastard.”

“We need to talk.”

“About what? You’ve ruined my life. What the hell else is there to talk about, you shit!”

“How exactly did I do that?”

Another round blew through the wood and hit the opposite wall about a foot below the other two bullets.

“You know damn well how. You just... you just had to dig all this shit up, didn’t you? From all that time ago. You couldn’t give a crap how it might affect people. How it might affect me! You asshole!” she shrieked.

Another shot came through the door. Decker flinched with the impact against the wood but held his ground.

“That was not my intent.”

“Don’t you dare bullshit me. That’s exactly what you wanted.”

She fired another round through the door, ripping a big chunk off it as the wood around the other holes gave way.

“Look, if you stop shooting, we can have a conversation.”

“I’m not talking to you. I’m going to kill myself.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because my life is over!”

“Your husband doesn’t think that. Or your son.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my son. He’s the only good thing I’ve ever done in my miserable excuse for a life.”

“I think we have to talk about him if you’re planning on leaving him motherless.”

Now she started to sob. He could hear the gut-wrenching noises coming through the door.

He took a chance and peeped through one of the holes. She was lying in bed, wearing only a long T-shirt; her uncovered legs were long and pale. The gun was in her right hand.

“Mitzi, I can help you if you let me.”

“N-nobody can help me. Not now.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

“I told you to get out.”

He ducked down as the shot came through not the door, but the wall. It must have hit a nail in the stud under the drywall, because it careened into the hall at a weird angle, nearly hitting Decker in the face.

He stayed low, breathing heavily and wondering where the hell the cops were.

“I can’t leave you like this. I’m afraid you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Fuckin’ A, Sherlock. I’m going to do more than hurt myself, you idiot!”

“Rachel Katz wouldn’t want that, Mitzi. She was the one who helped you to turn your life around. And now she’s fighting for her life.”

Silence.

A few moments passed.

“What do you know about anything?”

“I know a lot, Mitzi. I’d like to know more.”

“You came here and... and accused me of framing my own father.”

“So tell me that you didn’t. Tell me that you’re innocent.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

“Try me.”

In a more subdued tone she said, “Look, it’s... it’s complicated.”

“Believe me, I know that. But why do I think that Rachel Katz was blindsided by what happened? And you didn’t really know what was going to happen either, Mitzi, did you? I think you were both used. I think you both thought you had no way out.”

“I... I don’t want to talk about it.”

“At this point, you’re going to have to.”

“Screw you, Decker!”

He flattened himself to the hallway floor right as the bullet blasted through the door. The next instant he was up and had smashed into the door, breaking it open.

An astonished Mitzi gaped at him as he charged toward the bed. She aimed her pistol at him and fired.

Click. Click.

Decker wrenched the gun out of her hand and pocketed it. He looked down at her. “P238 Micro Compact has a seven-round standard mag.” He looked at the bullet-pocked door and wall. “And you just fired your last bullet.”

He turned back to her, as she covered herself with a sheet. “Get out!” she screamed.

“I can’t do that. The police are on their way.”

She looked confused. “Why?”

“Well, for starters you tried to kill me and your husband.”

“No I didn’t. I was just trying to make you leave me alone.”

“Not sure the court will see it that way. You fire a gun at someone, deadly intent is pretty much implied.”

Her lips trembled. “Do you mean I could go to jail? But I’m innocent.”

“Like your father? He was innocent. And he still went to jail. Then someone put a bullet in his head. They didn’t even let him die peacefully.”

Decker sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at her.

“This is the moment, Mitzi. The crossroads. Now is the time where you can make the right decision instead of the selfish one. You can correct a lot of wrongs. Will you do it? Do you have the courage to do that?”

“What if I don’t?” she said, drawing her legs up and gathering the covers around her.

“Then you go to jail. It’s as simple as that.”

“I’m going to jail regardless.”

“Not necessarily. Or you could hang out here until someone tries to kill you, like they did with Rachel Katz.”

He glanced at her nightstand and started when he eyed the half-empty prescription pill bottle. “How many pills did you take?” he snapped.

“Not that many,” she said hesitantly.

“How many is that?”

“Four or five.”

He snatched up the bottle and read the label. “Christ, Mitzi.”

He called 911 and requested an ambulance, pronto, for a possible drug overdose.

She lay back against the headboard and looked around the room. She smiled. “I have a perfect life; did you know that?”

“Tell me about it.”

“Can’t you see for yourself? Perfect home, perfect husband. Perfect child.” She uncovered her bare legs. “Perfect body.” She tapped her teeth. “First-rate veneers to hide the shitty, ugly gray.” She covered herself back up as her smile faded. “But the shitty, ugly gray is right below the surface. Right underneath. They couldn’t take that away. It’ll always be with me.”

“But you made the change. That was a lot of work. You had to be determined. It wasn’t easy kicking what you kicked.”

“It... it was either do that or end up dead.” She looked at him defiantly. “I chose to live.”

“I’m glad you did. Now you have a family. A son who’s counting on you. So choose to live this time too.”

Her lips trembled when he said this. She rubbed at her eyes. “But now, it’s... a-all effed up. I don’t k-know what to...”

As Decker listened to this, he saw her eyes becoming droopy, her features more and more listless. He let a few seconds pass and, trying to keep his voice calm, asked, “Do you have any Narcan here?”

She smiled and shook her head. “That’s for druggies. I’m not a druggie. Not anymore. I am the princess of the manor. The lady is perfect. Everybody says so.”

“Are you sure it was just four or five pills?” he said quickly.

She stretched out like a cat. “Maybe it was more. I don’t remember.” She lay back and closed her eyes.

“Stay with me, Mitzi. Come on now.” He sat down next to her and slapped her face. It was a poor substitute for Narcan, but he had to do something.

“Hey,” she said angrily, swatting at him. “Y-you a-assaulted m-me.”

“You framed your father. Why?”

She didn’t answer.

“Why?” he said, shaking her. “Come on, talk to me.”

“I did it for drugs.”

“For drugs? You mean for you?”

She waved this comment off. “No, stupid. For Mom. Morphine. For her drip line. Pure stuff. Right from the hospital. Gave it to her t-till she died. And she died p-peacefully. All I could do for her. But it was s-something, right?”

“Right. Who got it for you?”

“They did.”

“Who’s they?”

She waved her hand around the room. “You know. Them!”

She yawned and closed her eyes.

He slapped her again. This time, she didn’t complain. Or open her eyes.

Shit.

He could hear the sirens now.

Decker gripped Mitzi’s shoulders to keep her upright as she started to slump sideways. “What did they promise you, Mitzi? A new life? A new everything? Did Rachel Katz help you out? Did she become your mentor?”

Mitzi mumbled, “She’s a n-nice person. H-helped me.”

“I bet she did. So they killed her husband and Don Richards. And the others. And set up your dad.”

“Set him... up.”

“And how did they approach you?”

“Ka, Kar...”

“Karl Stevens. Right. He was the go-between. Who was he working with?”

“He’s dead. You tol’ me... d-dead.”

The sirens were growing closer.

“That’s right, he’s dead. But you’re not. You can tell me all about it.”

She shook her head. “Too l-late for th-that.”

“It’s never too late for the truth.”

She started to fall sideways. He slapped her again. To no effect. The sirens had been growing louder and louder all this time. Then the sound died. They were in the driveway.

“Karl Stevens is dead, that’s right. But who was he working with? Did it have something to do with the American Grill? Bill Peyton? Do you know him? Peyton?”

She opened her eyes.

“Pey-ton.”

“Right. The manager at the American Grill. Did he come to you? Did he ask you to help frame Meryl?” He shook her violently. “Did he?”

She closed her eyes again and went limp in his arms.

He could hear footsteps pounding down the hall. The door burst open and three EMTs were there.

Decker called out, “Amos Decker with the FBI. She took pills from that bottle. More than five. I’m starting to lose her. I think she’s unconscious.”

One of the EMTs grabbed the bottle and looked at the label. “Okay, step back.”

Decker moved away from the bed as the EMTs crowded around Mitzi, who had started to shake violently and then suddenly slumped over. One of the EMTs sprayed Narcan into her nostril. She didn’t move for a long moment, and then she sat straight up and let out a lungful of air.

“Okay, ma’am, just relax. We’re going to take you to the hospital to get checked out.”

“W-what?”

Then she went limp again and fell over sideways.

“Shit,” said the EMT. He sprayed another shot of Narcan up her other nostril.

She stirred but did not come fully back.

They started a saline drip line and put a blood pressure cuff and pulse monitor on her.

“Her pressure and respiration are really low,” said one of the EMTs. “Critically low. I think she took something more than was in that bottle. Let’s roll. Now!”

They were loading her onto a gurney when Decker noticed something.

“Wait a minute, where’s her husband?”

“Who?” said one of the EMTs.

“Her husband. Tall guy. He let you in.”

“Nobody let us in. The front door was open. We just followed the noise to back here.”

Decker ran out of the room, down the hall, and out the front door. A late-model Audi 8 had been parked in front when he’d gotten here. It was no longer there.

He looked up and down the road fronting the house.

Brad Gardiner was gone.

And Decker had no clue why.

Am I ever going to get out ahead of this damn case?