Mama Law and the Moonbeam Racer - Fred Yorg

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into a hot area before you knew it was safe?”

      “I screwed up. My first concern was my partner.”

      “I call that pretty shoddy police work for a ten year veteran. If you expect me to believe your story, I’ve got to believe you picked that night to forget the basics they taught you at the Academy. You understand that’s hard for me to swallow, don’t ya? It’s not like you’re a goddamn rookie; you’re a ten year vet. You know better than that.”

      “Mr. Alcala, I don’t really care what you believe. You asked, I answered. Did I screw up? Yes. Did it cost Miles his life? Probably. Understand he was like a brother to me and I’ve got to live with it for the rest of my life and it ain’t going to be easy. I don’t appreciate your questions or your tone. You’re treating me like a suspect and I don’t like it. Now, I’m a little tired of this bullshit. If you want to charge me, do it. Any future questions will have to wait till I have an attorney present.”

      Alcala looked over at Harping with a self-amused expression. Harping returned the gaze and then stole a quick glance over his shoulder at the chief. Looking down at me like a vulture over dead prey, he smiled one more time before talking. “Detective Law, we have reason to believe that you murdered your partner. An armed guard will remain on your door while you’re in this hospital. Consider yourself under house arrest. As soon as you’re released from the hospital, you will be taken down to the Thirteenth Precinct Jail, where you’ll wait until you’re arraigned. I suggest you read him his rights, chief.”

      The chief nervously started to Marandize me, but I cut him off quick. “No need, I know it by heart. The next time we talk, I’ll have an attorney present. Now if you have nothing else, get the hell out of here.”

      After they left the nurse came back in and checked my vitals. Not surprisingly my heart rate and blood pressure were both elevated. “I don’t like this,” the nurse muttered.

      “Ignore it, it should be high.”

      “Why?”

      “Those clowns that just left here have just accused me of murder. How’s that for a reason.”

      “Pretty good. I’ll stop back in thirty minutes, try and relax.”

      “Yeah right, thanks.”

      She hustled out of the room and left me with my thoughts. The IA man Alcala’s last comment was haunting me. Although harsh and unthinking, they were true, I did screw up. If only I’d followed procedure Miles may not have been killed. There was no way of hiding from the consequences of my actions. I knew in my own mind’s eye that I was destined to be haunted and disfigured by the deed for the rest of my life; powerless to make up for the biggest mistake of my life.

      A little past 2:30 p.m. I was still wrestling with the past. I needed to find a way to break free from my guilt, had to get on with what needed to be done for my own well-being. Whether I liked it or not, I was in serious trouble, I needed an attorney. Time to check the phone to see if it’s turned on. I reached over and cradled the receiver, I had a dial tone. Now to get information.

      “Yes I’d like the number of Elias Goodfellow, Attorney at Law.” I got the number and wrote it on a napkin box on the side table. Luckily the nurse had inadvertently left a blue Bic pen by mistake. I reached over and again cradled the phone and started dialing the number. By the time I dialed the third number, my attention was diverted to the woman entering the room. She was dressed in black and hid behind a pair of dark shades. Her gait was slow but steady and with a purpose. The phone slipped from my grasp as my eyes moved to hers. She walked over silently and we embraced for what seemed like an eternity. Still sobbing Abbe Bowman walked over to the other side of the room and gazed out the window through the pain.

      My heart was drowning in despair as I tried to talk, “I’m so sorry Abbe. I don’t…”

      “No need to say another word. I know Mooney.”

      “Is there anything I can do?”

      “We’re having the wake tomorrow. Miles will be buried on Wednesday. It would mean a great deal to me and the kids if you were there.”

      “I don’t know if I’ll be able to, Abbe.”

      “I’m sorry, that was stupid of me. In my grief, I haven’t even asked how you are. I just barged in here with my own baggage, you’re okay aren’t you?”

      “I’m going to be just fine. If it were just the injuries, I’d be there if I had to crawl. You know that, but there’s more.”

      “You’re scaring me Mooney, what is it?”

      “I don’t know how to tell you this, but they’re going to arrest me for Miles death.”

      “What? I’ve got to sit down.”

      Abbe fell into the bedside chair; this was the last thing she needed right now. Her expression was blank as she tried to absorb my last words. She was a strong woman but needed time to regroup. The only thing I could do was sit in silence while she collected herself. Then she turned to me and spoke, “That’s crazy, there’s more isn’t there?”

      The awful truth came over me with a rush, “Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

      “Tell me now, I have to know. I don’t want to read about it in the papers.”

      “You sure you want to hear it?”

      Turning to me, she looked over at me with a rigid gaze, “I won’t ask again. Now tell me.”

      “Some members of the department are saying that I killed Miles because we were both dirty. Another theory will be that just I alone was on the pad and had to kill Miles to keep him quiet. That jackass, Tony Turano is trying to pin the serial murders on me, and say Miles was on to me. They’re still trying to pick a motive, a reason.”

      “This is crazy. None of this makes any sense. How can they do this to you?”

      “They’ve got some circumstantial evidence. Any time a cop goes down in the line of duty, there’s a feeding frenzy to close the case. I don’t have to tell you that I’ve never been anyone’s favorite at the precinct.”

      “That’s not true. You were Miles favorite and that’s good enough for me.”

      I couldn’t answer, Abbe’s last words hit me like a ton of bricks. I had all I could do to hold back my emotions. “Anything you want or need just let me know. We’re family. I’ve got to go now. I’ve got to get back to the kids. You need anything?”

      Unable to speak, I just nodded no. Then she kissed me on the cheek and grasped my hand for support. Neither of us said another word as she made her way across the room to the door, where she stopped and then turned back to give me one last reassuring smile.

      A good hour passed while I drowned in not only my own grief, but Abbe’s as well. Abbe was a very special person, I prayed that I could find a way to help her.

      The doctor assigned to my case came by a little after 4 p.m. He and the nurse reviewed the chart and again checked my vital signs. He was an Indian doctor who spoke with a heavy accent. “How are you feeling?”

      Ignoring his question I replied, “When can I get out of here?”

      “That depends. How are you feeling?”

      “I feel fine, when can I leave?”

      Neither one of us was into bedside banter. His response was curt, “We’ll release you tomorrow, at 11:30.”

      “Doc, I’d prefer no more pain killers.”

      He didn’t answer, seemed preoccupied with my chart. I was a little agitated when I followed up, “Any problem with that?”

      “You should only experience moderate pain from the left arm. However, I still recommend that you

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