Authors: Susan Wingate
“Our gun?”
“Well, it’s registered to
Vanessa, Georgette. Why do you say our gun?”
“She bought for us, to use, you
know, just in case.” I couldn’t believe what Willy was telling me. Vanessa
would never forgive herself.
“In case of what?”
“She got spooked one day at the
diner and bought it a couple days later.”
“Spooked by what, Georgette?”
“Some big ugly guy at the
restaurant. He said some things
to
her that made her a little nervous, I can’t
remember exactly.”
“She bought it then?”
“Well, actually, I think it was
the day the vandals broke into the stores down the strip from us, the kids, remember?”
“Mm hmm. Well, Georgette, if you
can think of anything else, anything at all that seems a little odd or out of
the ordinary, call me, okay? Anytime, you hear?” “I will.” I got up to go and
just as I stood I said. “Oh, Willy, this whole thing has been so awful. I keep replaying
things in my head about that day, like a tape recorder, over and over.” We were
leaving the interview room.
“Georgette, I think it’ll be a
long time before anyone gets over this. It’s affected the entire town.”
“Poor José.”
“I know. Try not to think about
it. Don’t ‘what-if’ yourself. It’ll make you crazy.”
“That’s just it, Willy. I think
what if I’d gotten there sooner, would José be alive today? And, then I think
what if I’d gotten in that accident, would Roberta…”
“What accident?” We were coming
into the police station lobby and I was watching my feet. The floor was always
a mess there for one reason or another.
“Oh, I nearly went head-on into
an SUV about a block from the restaurant. I wasn’t paying attention and crossed
over the center line. If I’d hit that car, Willy, Roberta would
be
dead too. I just can’t shake the thoughts out of my head anymore. They
keep me up at night.”
“Try not to think about it. I
know it sounds easy but try to soothe your mind. Think about good things. Well,
Georgette, I have to get back to work. Thanks for coming in. Take care.”
“Bye, Willy.”
***
Vanessa
couldn’t
believe
the
smell—or
the assortment of smells—permeating the police station, coffee brewing,
vomit, smoke, alcohol, body odor all emanating from a variety of suspects,
offenders and a stained coffee pot on the sergeant’s desk that faced the double
glass doors. She nearly turned around and left but stopped herself. She yanked
at her jacket’s hem and coughed slightly, then walked nervously up to the man
sitting behind the desk. She didn’t recognize him.
“My name is Vanessa Carlisle. I’m
here to see Willy, Officer Willard Cleary, please.” “Carlisle?”
“Yes. Vanessa Carlisle.”
“Just a minute please.” He picked
up the phone and dialed an extension. “Willy, a Vanessa Carlisle is here… mm
hmm… will do.
“He says he’ll be out in just a
minute and to have a seat.”
She looked around at the
available chairs in the lobby, one next to a scruffy looking man with stained
and tattered clothing who was rambling loudly about the dogs at the race track,
another seat next to a pierced and tattooed young pregnant girl who was smoking
and in handcuffs with an officer sitting next to her taking notes, and another
in between a whirring pop machine and a decent
enough
looking young man filling
out something on a clipboard. She took that seat and held her purse tightly on
her lap. Her widening hips barely fit into the metal frame of the chair and
made telltale dents where it pressed into her.
Wanting to rest her hands by her sides in order to hide her legs would
mean relinquishing the tight grip she held on her
purse. Vanity lost out and she only looked
back down once at her bulging thighs. On the floor under her feet was a sticky
distorted circle of spilled cola. She tried to place her feet around it but
found it futile and relinquished to placing them smack in the center with her
feet close together.
Only a moment passed when Willy
showed up. She had to push herself out of the chair which insisted on remaining
attached
to
her
buttocks
and
did momentarily. It dropped
from her and clanked noisily against the tile floor when it landed. She
straightened her pants and walked up to Willy to shake his hand. Whatever
slime she’d picked up on her shoes was
sticking to the floor and made a sucking noise each time she stepped.
“Mrs. Carlisle.” He grabbed her
extended hand.
“Please, Willy, call me by my
name. How long have we known each other? Is it twenty some years now?”
“Vanessa.”
“That’s better.” They let go of
each other’s hands.
“Come with me. We can talk
somewhere a little more private.” He led her through the lobby and down a hall
of windowed offices some with two and three desks, some with only one, and into
one with mini-blinds and a solid door with a conference table.
“Have a seat.” He twisted the
control to close the blinds. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee?” “A
glass of water would be great.”
He walked out and closed the door
part way. She wondered why he would shut the mini-blinds. Did he think she
would act out or cry? She felt her body tense and begin to quiver. No sooner
did her fears begin to grip her that Willy walked back in. She jumped when he
spoke.
“Here we go… oh, I’m sorry,
Vanessa. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He placed the water on the table by
her.
“I always forget how nervous
people get in this place. I’m used to it, of course. But, I remember a time
when I wasn’t. You okay?”
“Sure, Willy. Thanks.” She slid
the paper cup closer to her and held it firmly with both hands. After she was sure
her hands wouldn’t shake she lifted the cup and took a long gulp. Willy watched
her as he sat down in the chair facing her. “That’s better. I’ll be fine. I’m
just, well, nervous, like you said.”
“Don’t worry about a thing. I
just want to ask you a few questions about the day, you know, of the shooting.”
Vanessa nodded anxiously. “Where
were you that day?”
“I had gone to a doctor’s
appointment in Flagstaff. It was at eleven in the morning and lasted the better
part of the day. I think I left there around five-thirty that afternoon,
around then. I stopped and had a quick dinner
before heading back home.” Willy started scribbling notes on a tablet of
blue-lined yellow paper. “What’s the doctor’s name? I’ll have to verify your times.”
“Well, it wasn’t really with a
doctor.” Willy looked up from the notes he was taking and set his pencil down when
Vanessa hesitated. She could sense he wasn’t happy with her response. “I was at
the medical center at the university, having tests.”
“I’ll need someone’s name to
verify this, Vanessa. Can you tell me who I can contact there?”
“The technician’s name was
Caroline Tagel. She pronounces her name, Carol-I-ne.”
“Do you have a phone number I can
call?”
“Not with me.”
“Well, what department is she
in?”
“Willy…” She paused a moment and
shook her head. “I’d rather not say.”
“Vanessa, you can’t withhold
information from us.” “But, it has nothing to do with the shootings.”
“Vanessa.” Willy grabbed both of her hands in his.
“If this is embarrassing to you,
I’ll do everything in my power not to let it out, if I can. But, seeing as how this
is a medical issue, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about. We are very
sensitive to this sort of thing. It comes up more than you’d think.” He smiled
sincerely at her. Vanessa
smiled back
and looked down again in order to drum up the courage to tell Willy about the
cancer.
***
Willy stared as Vanessa walked
through the double glass
doors of the
entrance and down the stairs outside. The
sun was blazing down and a dark shadow haloed the concrete sidewalk
around her feet. He felt sorry for the woman
he’d known almost as long as he’d lived here.
A
meeting
with
Bill
was
next.
He
had
more information today than
yesterday and the pieces of the puzzle were slowly beginning to paint a picture
of the night in question. He felt they were only steps behind the killer. They
needed to find a shoe that matched the imprint picked up from the crime scene
and
a
man
driving
an
SUV,
the
same
SUV Georgette saw driving
away before she showed up at the diner and found Roberta.
He’d had mixed feelings about
Georgette, the other woman,
the
mistress, those sorts of thoughts; but, saving Roberta seemed to clear the
slate for her. If she hadn’t shown up, Roberta would be dead now. As
Vanessa walked out of view, he wondered if
she knew.
CHAPTER 27
Exactly one week after the
autopsy, José was shipped where he wanted to be buried. Maria escorted his body
in the hearse to the
airport and then to
Mexico. His family welcomed her sadly.
His funereal mass, the burial, and José’s fiesta de vida continued for
the better part of an entire morning, afternoon, and evening. The large family
celebrated him and the memory of him.
That same day Vanessa and I held
a quiet ceremony in the garden behind our diner. We were standing by a special
pepper patch of José’s. In it we constructed a cross that we hung
photos of José on. One was José and Bobby as
they dug out a spot for the very patch where we now stood. His eyes were
smiling and his denim overalls
were
covered in dirt. Bobby stood behind him like a proud
father as José pointed at a pouch of seeds in
his hand. There was a wedding photo of him and Maria, and, one of him selling
vegetables to a tourist. Others covered every inch of the white wooden cross,
others just as representative of José and his sweet demeanor.
Days before the ceremony for
José, we had told several of our customers about the service we intended to
have and
explained the circumstances
around his death.
People can be so kind, strangers
even, in times of desperation.
Vanessa began to read from the
bible a passage from the
Book
of Esther. “And when these days were
expired…”
But a man stopped her when he
called out gently from over by the garden gate. We turned to look and saw Arnie
standing under the garden’s arch. We could only see just behind him.
There were a few regulars from the
restaurant. Vanessa’s hand
came up to
her chest, her eyes got watery, but she beamed in gratitude at the crowd. My
head dropped and I wept openly. I cared no less about letting people see me the
way I was feeling at
the moment. Nobody
cared either. Arnie brought his wife and he let her and Helen walk through in
front of him and up to us. After that, it was a parade of friends who showed up
for José. Glenda came with the rest of our wait-staff, Mr. & Mrs. Rigger
walked in gloomily and slowly, Detective Mark appeared behind them, then Willy,
the EMTs, and Reverend Carney. The reverend
carried a bible and a box of money he’d collected from his parishioners
for Maria. After that I couldn’t tell you. They just kept coming.
All I remember is the garden was
full.
Then, Vanessa continued, “And,
when these days were expired, the king made a feast unto all the people that
were present in Shu’shan, the palace, both unto great and small, seven days, in
the court of the garden of the king’s palace.” She stopped and said, “Amen.”
The crowd followed suit.
Even after so many years of
living here, I still felt a little uncomfortable around the town folk. My
strength came from doing something good for José, something
Vanessa and I had not planned.
“Vanessa and I hope you’ll all
stay for a bite to eat and to toast José.” I looked at Vanessa for approval.
“Yes, please. It would be wonderful if you could join us.”
***
Our little diner was packed. We
opened up the doors to anyone who stopped by that day in honor of José. The
menu was thrown together fast. But, as you might have suspected we served,
fresh vegetables and salsa made from José’s peppers and tomatoes, chips, queso,
and bean dip. We drank red wine and raised our glasses in appreciation of our
friend. We told stories, new and old, and remembered him. He filled our hearts
that day and won’t be forgotten by the people he touched.