Some Degree of Murder

Thursday, April 22 nd Davenport Hotel, Late Morning

VIRGIL

Her eyes stared up at me as I held her in my hands. The eyes were bright and blue, a sense of excitement dancing behind them. Her lips were forever frozen in a large beaming smile, exposing perfect white teeth. Several freckles dotted her checks and a small dimple showed on the right side of her face.

“I did it, Fawn,” I said softly to the picture.

I was sitting alone in my hotel room, in the same chair Gina’s body had warmed only an hour before.

The tears stung my eyes and rolled down my face.

“I’m a fuckin’ pussy,” I mumbled to myself. I tucked her picture into my jacket pocket and wiped my eyes with the palms of my hands.

With a quick snatch, I grabbed my bag off of the bed and left the hotel room.

Gina met me down in the hotel lobby. She stood when she saw me get off of the elevator. She wore her black sweatshirt with Levi’s and white running shoes.

“You all right?” she asked.

”Yeah.”

She slipped her hand into mine and escorted me out to her beat-up Toyota which sat behind a black limousine with the Davenport logo on it.

I tossed my bag into the trunk before climbing in to the passenger’s seat. Gina started the car after a few mis-fires and we pulled away from the curb.

“Listen,” she said, “I hope you know you can trust me.” Her eyes flicked over to me and then back to the road. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking that you took a big chance by asking me for help.”

I watched her as she spoke.

“You might have done that without much thinking down the road. So now you’re wondering how you make sure I won’t say anything.”

Gina changed lanes to get around a slower Mercedes. “I just want to let you know that you don’t have to worry about me. You did this for your daughter. I helped you for Serena. The goal was the same. I’m in this as much as you.”

I faced forward and looked out the window as she pulled into the parking lot of the combination Greyhound/Amtrak station. She swung the car around into a parking spot near the front of the building. With a flick of her wrist, she turned the car off.

We sat quietly for a few minutes until she spoke. “I’m sorry about your daughter.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Here’s a drop box in case you need to get a hold of me. I check it once or twice a month, so don’t expect an immediate answer.”

She pulled the piece of paper from my fingers and read it. “Who’s Dave Semenko?”

“It’s just a name on the P.O. box. An old hockey player.”

“Is Virgil your real name?”

“Virgil is as real as I’ve got anymore.”

Gina reached over and slipped her hand behind my neck. She pulled me into her and kissed me. Her lips parted for me one final time. When we broke, her eyes were wet and she patted me on the leg. “You need to catch a train.”

I rubbed my thumb gently over her lips. “Thanks,” I said softly and climbed out of the car.