The Night Gardener

CHAPTER 38

Holiday put his fingers to the neck of T. C. Cook and found no pulse. The man's face was waxy under the Mercury's dome light. He had seen enough corpses to know that Cook was dead.

Holiday closed the door and went back to his Lincoln. He phoned Gus Ramone and told him what had happened and where he was. Ramone said he'd be there shortly.

Holiday returned to the Marquis, opened the back door, and stared at Cook.

I killed him, thought Holiday. He wasn't strong enough to work.

The latex gloves on Cook's hands and the jimmy bar and flashlight on the floor told Holiday that Cook had been planning a break-in at the home of Reginald Wilson.

In the front seat he found the mini-cassette tape recorder beside Cook's Stetson. He rewound the tape, pushed the 'play' button, and listened to the recording. His emotions welled up as he heard the old cop speak his name and praise him. He pulled the tape from the recorder and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He took the gloves off Cook's hands and stuffed them in the same pocket. Then he took the recorder, the jimmy bar, and the flashlight and placed them in the trunk of his Town Car. While the lid was open, he transferred some items from Cook's trunk into his own, including some cop tools and a shop rag. He would use that later to wipe his prints from Cook's car.

He had been very quiet. No one had come out of a house and no one had driven down the street. Holiday sat down on the curb and smoked a Marlboro. He was working on another one when Ramone's Tahoe turned the corner and pulled up behind the Town Car.

Ramone sat behind the wheel, finishing his call to Regina. He had been speaking to her on his cell as he drove into RG. County. When he was done telling her about Asa Johnson and the events of his day, including the death of Cook, he assured her that he would not be home too late. He asked her to keep Diego up if she could. He wanted to speak to him before he went to sleep.

Ramone killed the engine and got out of the SUV. Holiday stood to meet him. They nodded at each other but did not speak. Then Ramone went to the Marquis and examined Cook. Ramone returned to where Holiday stood leaning against the Lincoln.

'Why was he here?' said Ramone.

'That's Reginald Wilson's house over there.'

'The security guard.'

'Right,' said Holiday.

'He was, what, surveilling him?'

'He was doing what he'd been doing for the last twenty years. He was looking for a break in the case.'

'That's a long time to play a hunch.'

'Cook wasn't wrong too often when he was homicide police. If you could DNA Wilson-'

'No PC.'

'Fuck probable cause.'

'It would be nice if it worked that way.'

Holiday lit another smoke. His hand shook as he held the match.

'You call this in?' said Ramone.

'Not yet.'

'When were you planning to do that?'

'After I move him off this street. I'm gonna take him up to Good Luck Road and park his car in a strip mall. I'll wipe my prints off and call in an anonymous.'

'That's gettin' to be a habit with you.'

'I don't want him found here.'

'Why not?'

'Long while back, the Post did a feature on Cook,' said Holiday. 'The headline read, "Years Later, Palindrome Murders Still Haunt Retired Detective,' something like that. The article quoted Cook as saying he strongly suspected a man named Reginald Wilson who by then had been incarcerated on other charges. It made Cook out to be half nuts. It's possible that some reporter's gonna go through the morgue material and connect Cook to Wilson and this street. The old man shouldn't go out like that. He doesn't deserve it.'

'Maybe not,' said Ramone. 'But you're committing a crime.'

'I shouldn't have taken him out with me. I owe him some dignity in death.'

'He was a sick man, Danny. It was his time. It doesn't look like he went out with much pain.'

'He went out not knowing.'

'We might never know,' said Ramone. 'Chances are, the Palindrome case won't ever be closed. You know this. We don't always get to win in the end. It's not about slaps on the back and confetti.'

'He wasn't looking for glory. He wanted to solve this for those kids.'

'How do you solve a murder? Tell me. 'Cause I'd really like to know.'

'What are you talkin about?'

'Would finding that killer raise those kids back from the dead? Would it bring closure to the families? What would it solve, exactly?' Ramone shook his head bitterly. 'I lost the idea a long time ago that I was accomplishing anything. Occasionally I put assholes away for life, knowing they can't kill again. That's how I speak for the fallen few. But as far as solving goes? I don't solve shit. I go to work every day and I try to protect my wife and kids from the bad things that are out there. That's my mission. That's all I can do.'

'I don't believe that.'

'Well, you always were a better cop than me.'

'No, I wasn't,' said Holiday. 'You say I was good, and so did the old man. But I wasn't.'

'That's history.'

'No. Earlier tonight I came up on the uniform I was tailing, and we had a little talk. Officer Grady Dunne. He didn't have anything to do with Asa Johnson or Reginald Wilson. But he was polluted. I'm sayin the guy had maggots crawling around inside him.' Holiday hit his cigarette and blew smoke at his feet. 'That was me before I got tossed. Shit, that motherfucker even looked like me.'

'The poor bastard.'

'I'm serious, man. I was looking at him and I was seeing myself if I'd stayed on the force. What I would have become. No question, I was headed for a bad end. You were right to go after me. I was lucky to walk away.'

'Guys like him weed themselves out.'

'Sometimes,' said Holiday. 'And sometimes they need a little push.'

Holiday pitched his cigarette out into the street.

'You still thinking of moving the old man?' said Ramone.

'I'm doing it,' said Holiday.

'Call me when you're done. I'll pick you up.'

Holiday completed his task. Ramone retrieved him and dropped him back at his Lincoln. They heard the faint sirens of the squad cars arriving before the ambulance, and they shook hands.

'So long. Doc. I need to get home.'

As Holiday walked to his Lincoln, Ramone drove off the street. He speed-dialed Regina at their house.

'Gus?'

'It is your man,' said Ramone. 'Everything all right?'

'Diego's still up,' said Regina. 'Alana's in her bedroom, talking to her dolls. We're all just waitin on you.'

'I'm headed back to the mother ship,' said Ramone. He told her he loved her and ended the call.

Ramone entered his home on Rittenhouse and locked his gun and shield in the usual drawer. The first floor was still. He went to a small table in the dining room holding bottles of liquor and poured himself a shot of Jameson. It went down right. He could have killed the whole bottle. If not for his family, it would have been easy to become that kind of man.

Ramone checked the locks on the front and back doors and went up the stairs.

In the hallway, he noticed the bar of light under his bedroom door. He walked into Alana's room and found her asleep in her bed, her Barbies, Kens, and Groovy Girls lined up on the blanket, their backs against the wall, all neatly spaced in a row. He bent forward and kissed Alana's cheek. He brushed a strand of damp, curly hair off her forehead and stood looking at her for a moment before he turned off her bedside light.

Ramone went to Diego's room, knocked on the door, and pushed it open. Diego was atop the sheets, listening to a Backyard CD on his portable system, keeping the volume low. He was looking through a Don Diva magazine but did not seem to be engaged in it. His eyes were hollow, and it appeared he had been crying. His world had been tilted. It would right itself, but never to the degree of comfort where it had been.

'You okay?'

'I'm blown, Dad.'

'Let's talk some,' said Ramone, pulling a chair over to his son's bed. 'Then you should get to sleep.'

A little while later, Ramone closed Diego's door behind him and walked down the hall to his own bedroom. Regina was in their king, reading a book under the light of a lamp, her head on a doubled pillow. They exchanged a long look, and then Ramone undressed and went to the bathroom, where he washed thoroughly and tried to get the smell of beer and liquor off his breath. He came back to the bed in his boxers and got under the sheets. Regina turned into him and they embraced. He kissed her soft lips once and again, and found himself hard and kissed her with his open mouth. She pushed him gently away.

'What do you think you're doing?' said Regina. 'You getting greedy, going for two in a row.'

'A guy can dream, can't he?'

'You better sleep before you have that dream. Comin in here back-to-back nights with liquor on your breath.'

'That's the mouthwash. It's got alcohol in it.'

'You talking about that mouthwash comes from Dublin?'

'Go ahead, Regina.'

'You and your new drinking buddy, Doc Holiday.'

'He's all right.'

'What's he looking like these days?'

'He's got a little belly on him. They call it the Holiday Hump.'

They embraced again. She fit into him exactly. It was as though they were one person, separated each day, brought back together at night. He couldn't imagine being apart from her, not even in death.

'You smell like booze and cigarettes, like you did when we first started dating,' said Regina. 'When you'd show up at my apartment after last call. What was that place you liked, where all those new wave white girls used to hang out? Constipation?'

'The Constable. That wasn't me. Least it doesn't seem like it today.'

'Now we've got this. And all the challenges that go with it.'

'And the good things, too.'

She had turned off her lamp, and they were in darkness, their eyes slowly adjusting to the absence of light. Ramone brushed his fingers down Regina's arm.

'What are we going to do about Diego?' said Regina.

'I talked to him,' said Ramone. 'He can finish out the year in his old school. It feels right. Next year we can put him in one of the blue-collar Catholic high schools. Carroll, DeMatha… either one of those would be a good place for him.'

'How're we gonna afford that?'

'It's not like it's a fortune. I'll sell the house in Silver Spring, I have to. Hell, the dirt alone's worth a bundle. We'll be fine.'

'Did you talk about Asa?'

'Yes.'

'How was Diego with it?'

'His world got rocked. He's probably stressing about all the times he called his friend soft or gay. Not knowing what that kid was going through inside.'

'Can you imagine what it's like to be that way in this climate? Being told all the time that you're not wanted, that there's no place for you in this new compassionate world. All the hate we got out here, and the politicians throwing gasoline on the fire. I don't know what Bible those haters are reading, but it's not the one I was raised on.'

'Forget about those fuckin idiots. What about everyday people who aren't about hate but still spread it? Diego didn't mean anything by those words, but now it's got him thinking hard on what comes out of his mouth. I been thinking on it myself.'

'You and all your friends.'

'You're right. Down at the office we go back and forth with that kinda shit all day. You'd look good in a dress, you've got gaydar… all that.'

'So you gonna change your ways now, huh?'

'Probably not,' said Ramone. 'I'm just a man, no more enlightened than any other. But I am gonna think twice before I talk that kind of trash. I hope Diego does, too.'

'What else you and your son talk about?' said Regina. 'You were in his room a while.'

'I was putting the last piece of the puzzle together on Asa's death. I was pretty sure I knew, but Diego confirmed it.'

'And?'

'You know how I always told him to be aware of any firearms in the homes of his friends?'

'I know. That's your biggest fear.'

'I've seen way too many accidents, Regina. Kids finding their fathers' guns and testing them out.'

'Okay.'

'Diego and his friends just have that knowledge. They read the gun magazines because they're boys and they're interested. The Spriggs twins know I have a Glock and that I keep it locked up. They all know these things.'

'Oh, Gus…'

'Diego says that Asa's father kept a revolver in their home. He didn't know if it was a thirty-eight. But I'm betting that it was.'

'Lord.'

'The ultimate fuck-you to his old man,' said Ramone. 'Asa killed himself with his father's gun.'

She hugged him tightly. They lay in the dark and neither of them could find sleep.

'Will you go to church with us on Sunday?' said Regina.

Ramone said that he would.