Chapter 7 - Rain
The lead detective, the detective sergeant that had once claimed me and my girlfriend's house with a wave of his gold shield, as if that explained it all perfectly? Wanted my attention.
"Bill? Could I get a word..."
"Sure."
We stepped off to the side, for privacy.
"Bill... I..."
He was trying to say something, and didn't know how to say it. Or how to get started.
"Just say it, then."
He did that thing where you look around, afraid to meet the person's gaze. Reminded me of a child afraid to meet the adult authority figure about some issue.
"You're... taking this awfully well."
He hastened to add to it.
"I don't mean nothing by that! Honest. I'm not saying... it means anything... like that again. But, I can't believe you put up with all this. I'm not sure I could."
"Hey. You guys can walk around in that bathroom. This is your job, you can do it."
"Aw. That's just it. You think we like doing this for work? Its just the worst part of the job, something like that happens. The jokes, the snide remarks? Its all... defense mechanism. And if you want the truth, I don't think any of us wouldn't be twice as bad... if we had... you know, your exact situation and were in it."
"Are you asking how I'm able to do it?"
"No. I was just... look. You talk to a suspect? You finally get that track, that hint. Interview after interview, they tell more and get closer. Before it comes out. That's me here, I'm... moving closer and closer. Slowly. To... hell, apologizing. There. I said it."
I put my hand on his shoulder.
"I mean it, thanks. Apologies might be nice, but... I'd rather you found who killed my wife. And that's all that really matters. If my feelings get hurt? That's not a big deal. Getting a good lead, that's job number one. The only job. More important than job one? I guess... job zero."
"Aw, Bill. I stand around. I call her little miss goody two shoes. I'm brainstorming. Maybe this is how the pain in the ass girl scout got herself removed... and you take it. You join in. I can't..."
I stopped him. I cut him off.
"Is that how you work?"
He had that slightly pained expression.
"Yeah."
"Okay. I want her killer brought to some kind of justice if I can. That? Is how it might happen. Look. Detective. I'll share something back with you. Something... personal. Maybe it will make you feel better."
"You don't have to..."
"I know I don't have to. But I can. And I will. Being honest. Do you think, in all the years of that was my girl, then my girlfriend, then my fiance. You seriously think I never shook my head once, and said to myself. Why am I in a relationship with a complete pain in the ass. My dad had a phrase. A... moaning groaning kibitzer. So... I know. And you know something? Its okay."
"See? You take this awfully well. Honest."
"Detective? There's love at first sight. Then? There's... I don't know what to call it. What we had? Wasn't love at first sight. I would have picked someone else, probably. But you know what? I was complaining one day. Guy older than me in the gym. We lifted weights on the same days and times. Older guy, I looked up to him. Kind of guy, that would just... say things, you know?"
"Guess I got a captain like that. Go on."
"They say something... profound. He said you don't get to pick your woman. They? Pick you. They got us thinking we're picking them? But we're not. She picked me, then. Love at first sight. Like... that pair of shoes or whatever, that everyone else has, so you want them. Then sometimes you finally get them. And you know what? Sometimes, they don't fit all that good, not that comfortable."
He waited.
"Now. On the opposite end of the scale. You got your favorite pair of jeans. Took years to break them in. They're the things you feel the most comfortable in. They fit you perfect. That one stain, that just won't come out? You know how it got there. That one little hole that doesn't start to open up? You remember how that happened, too."
Another little wait.
"So... if guys land the... cheerleader or whatever? Because everyone wants her. That's that pair of shoes you want, just because everyone else wants it. Might be great, then again might not. But... out of all your jeans, one pair slowly becomes the favorite. To me? That pair of jeans... means more to me? Than my best suit for work. I mean, to me? My best, most expensive suit. The one that people see it, they know. Oh, wow. That one suit, for special occasions. It gets ruined? I mean I ain't happy, but... I just go buy another one. Its replaceable. One paycheck? Suit's replaced."
I waited a little longer.
"But... that favorite pair of jeans? I can't go buy that. I can't replace that. That stain that won't come out, that little hole over there. That little bit of hem going funny, after all these years? I don't mind it. Its what I love about my favorite pair of jeans. I wear them around, it ain't to impress everyone. Its because those jeans make me feel great."
He had a sense to just let me go.
"Now. You start out, I started out. I'm... overlooking a few things here. Next thing I know? I'm used to those things. And then, one day? You're apart for a little while and you just realize. I miss that stuff. What I once didn't like? Had somehow become the very thing I loved the most. Was she different, slightly eccentric? I prefer the term... quirky. My girl? Was quirky. I like that."
He held off.
"So. Detective. Detective sergeant, in charge of the investigation. When I tell you, that its okay that you refer to her, brainstorming. As... the pain in the ass. As... little miss goody two shoes. That part? Doesn't hurt. Honestly? That part, makes me feel good. You aren't insulting her memory. You're... to me? Complimenting her. I'm being serious here."
"Okay."
"You think I don't know, people don't always like to be around that one person. The one that makes that... taking a dump face. Says. Well? Because that just isn't right. Some people laugh, it must be a joke. Other people that know, just roll their eyes. And yeah, some people. They don't like it, they have to go around her. But, I'll tell you something about people like that. Like her."
"Yeah?"
"If you could get her, and a couple hundred more, just like her? Out here. In crazy land, the patron tiny city of politics for our state. Into sitting on all these stupid... committees. Filling these chairs and vice chairs and positions. Get some more of them, elected into enough state congressional seats and senate seats. You wouldn't have to worry anymore. The money, the budget? Wouldn't be wasted. Some... useless regulatory office, that exists just so some... important senator's son, gets to feel all important, he runs something? Would never have someone come along, and over-fund it, expand it, and all these self important assholes fan out and ruin shit for an entire industry and everyone else that depends on it."
"I guess that would be nice."
"Nice? That would be heaven, detective. No more... scandals. I can't tell you, where the goody two shoes, pain in the asses come from? Genetic, maybe. Raised a sheltered life on a country farm like she was, before she was turned loose on this capitol. But I can tell you this much, detective. The things you teach a kid? That... simple, black and white, right from wrong. You lose that, when you grow up. Almost all of us do. She? Didn't."
He went back to waiting.
"I guess you have to be careful what you teach a kid like that. Because if you preach it, that's it. Locked in there, like a steel trap. I remember her in law school. They have... ethics classes. They must have preached it some, because... steel trap. You guys noticed. She was in and out of that ethics committee. Quick. I wasn't there, I don't know. I can guess though."
"So? Guess."
"If I had to guess? She read the rules of ethics committee. And? Just applied it. Word for word. Every wherefore and therefore, applied exactly properly. She doesn't get... nuance. I bet you, dollars to donuts. The committee was expected to... only say something, when something was really off the reservation. A conflict of interests so bad, you laugh and say... the hell were you even thinking, we can't sell that one to anyone. Nice try. But? I'm certain. She read those rules, and applied them just like they said. Everyone else? I'm sure they expected..."
He knew where I was going, trying to put it into words.
"I hear you. Everyone else? Expects running it through ethics, to be... told what they can get away with."
"Yeah."
"But her... you got me in her mindset over these last weeks. She would be the opposite. Not what you can get away with, what you're supposed to stay totally away from. Which would be how the rules are written. But... I read it like this. For some people? The line exists, so you know what not cross. Some people? Run right up to that line, and tap dance up and down it. No no, I'm technically allowed. And some people, yeah. They use that line, to know what to keep away from."
"You get it."
"How is she, when people... have the talk with you. You know, that nice friendly..."
I smiled.
"Oh. The play ball speech."
"Yeah."
I smiled more.
"Nuance? Not one of her strong suits. I keep mentioning that."
"You do. Another... theme I pick up on."
We both waited, and he spoke first.
"What would she do. When... someone was hinting around. To play ball. The old, yeah yeah, but this is just how we do things."
I smiled.
"They tend to always say... you know. They say, yeah, you're right. That is what it says, but... you know."
He nodded.
"I'm a career cop. You think we don't sometimes get the... play ball speech? The... you know talk? Of course we do."
"And? What do you do. You... go to IA and tell on everyone? Like... some kind of pain in the ass hall monitor in grade school? Tattle tale."
"I know it sounds bad, but. No. You're not supposed to do that. And even if you sometimes think you should? Its not real practical. Nine times out of ten, someone will just arrange... misery for you, all kinds of other ways. If I ran to IA, and told on everyone, who ever did something I wouldn't do myself? I wouldn't still be a cop. I wouldn't still be here. Trying to do this, for you."
"I understand. Do I like it? No. But it just is how it is. The system isn't perfect. Lord knows that one."
"But... she doesn't seem to be running around, telling on people. She's not a tattle-tale."
I thought about it.
"No. She won't tell on you. One of those... steel trap lessons? Must have been, you're not supposed to be a rat, not supposed to be a tattle-tale."
"What would she do, though."
"Honestly? Make a pout-y face. Roll her eyes. Grumble a little, grouse and complain some. But, she gets loyalty. Another steel trap lesson."
"I have to guess. See the themes. My best hunch? Like the one said. Why would politicians want her around? Answer. You need someone, to be the goody two shoes. You can put them somewhere, and everyone has to keep appearances up, be on their toes to go about business as usual. I think that was sort of her career, though she didn't know it. When they got the scandal fire put out? They... promote her to another position, where she can be useful the same way."
I laughed.
"Except ethics committee. That dog just wasn't going to hunt. At all."
"No. I looked into the... serial killer theory. Always possible. A scene like that? I'd expect to see more of them. Around here, somewhere else. I don't. I contacted people that... work in that. Nothing coming up that way. Always possible? My gut says no."
I stared off at nothing.
"Meaning."
"Someone does that? Its personal. A wacko serial killer? They don't have to know you personally, to get the rage. You look or act like the grade school teacher that abused them? That's enough to set them off. But... past that, it has to be personal. That's why... husbands and boyfriends are the usual suspect. Then? You rule that out, you move away a little. You think family. You start looking at the peer group. Friends, not family. Then the co workers. You start widening that... circle, that net. Bigger. It takes time."
"And?"
"Well. There comes a time, the circle got moved out. You're starting to look at people that were on the fringes. The guy at the coffee shop, the girl that works the hot dog stand. There's no science to that. Its art. Its gut and hunch."
"And your gut says."
"Its easy to look into boyfriend, husband. Limited suspects. The bigger that circle gets, the more you're talking broader and broader strokes. I'm leaning towards, and always coming back to? Work. Co workers. Or something that comes from work."
"You're the expert there. This is your world."
"I'm looking for... conflict. A neighbor, for instance. The long standing... neighbor war. An otherwise seemingly normal person? Can one day... just walk up to that neighbor that drives them nuts for years? Pop them right in the open, at the gas station. Seen it, more than once. Its just an example. Conflict. Ongoing. A clash. Can't be solved. Frustration."
He shrugged.
"Not seeing that in her relationship with you. From any corner. Not seeing family conflict. Nothing serious enough to warrant this level of... a response."
I kept staring off.
"Where do you see this, then. Other than the planets line up, and lightning strikes. The serial killer. Where else do you see this."
"Honestly?"
"Lying and sugarcoating gets us nowhere."
He paused.
"Outside of a serial killer. Outside of... husband snaps because of unresolved and ongoing running around. This kind of over reaction? Being honest. You see this... in gangland. Organized crime. You send a message, you take revenge. But... you have to be into something like that, for this to happen. Usually."
"She's just not into anything like that."
"I know. My theories... are starting to get thinner and thinner, trying. I'm trying to see, where the... ongoing, unresolved conflict would come from. The politicians? Used her for her goody two shoes nature, is how I see it. She wasn't a problem. Politicians? Are practical. You put her, where she'd be useful. Which when I look at it all like that? Things start to make sense."
"Well? You're the detective. When do things start to not make sense."
He sighed.
"If I say, the minute I walked into that bathroom? That's not an answer. That's just... obvious."
"So. Take that, what do you do."
"I work forwards. Things make sense. What she is. How they use her. Then? It just all goes to hell one day. I don't see it."
I kept up my staring off.
"Want my idea then? Based on what you just said."
"Sure."
"I'm a computer programmer. I do... the big, so called impossible jobs. That a giant team, will spend a year and a half, making a big report, on how its not possible, not feasible. Made a career out of doing it."
"Go on. What do you do, that's so different."
"We're taught, to start at the beginning. Move through, to finish. That doesn't work in real life, on big stuff. I start at the beginning, which is easy. When I get stuck? I start at the end. I make that ending, because I know where I want to end up. Then. What would be the step right before that? I make that part."
"Go on. I take inspiration from anywhere. From chess to football."
"I work a little more from the front... a little more backwards, from the end. I even... do a part in the middle I can see. Eventually? I got it all down to just a couple things I go in on. Connect 15 to 17, with part 16, that now makes sense. Forwards, everyone does. Backwards? I do. I also do... hopping around the middle, until I got all the dots connected."
"Working forwards? Good, good, good... bathroom."
"And, working backwards?"
"Well. Bathroom. Then? I'm looking for the unresolved, long standing problem. That calls for this response. Not seeing it."
"Working forwards, what do you see."
"Her dad. His big senator that owes him. Its her way in."
"Sure."
"Then? He retires. His... understudy? Takes over. That new big senator? Inherits her. Again, things go well."
I kept that staring up.
"He... was the understudy. He knew how things worked. He was told how to use her. What she was for."
"Its logical."
"Keep going."
"Then? That understudy, is big for a while, and... goes down. Corruption, gifts, bribes, trading horse favors for... people putting donations into a buddy's charity... normal political scandal, really."
"And she's goody two shoes. Comes out of any scandal like that? Untouched."
"Yeah. But... where does she go next?"
"You tell me. I'm just the fiancee. This was all just... she would describe work to me, passing time. I hear stories about people at work I never met, never will meet. I have nicknames for them. Light-socket girl. After the initial story? I'm like, do you mean light-socket? Yeah, her."
"After that? There's that very brief stint in ethics committee. Which didn't work out."
"And?"
"Here's where some change occurs. Not that I see it leading to anything, just... change. In routine."
I liked that.
"Change could be good to look at. What changed."
"She started out, a trusted pet for the big senator. He? Passes her on to the next big senator, that replaces him. But then? She's in limbo for a little while. Ethics, then... she lands with a newer, younger senator. Every one of these people, is sort of owned, by a senator."
"That's the big change."
"Its something new. She started out, and was used to being owned by someone that... was like family to the dad. Passed on at retirement? To the next one. That again, knew the system. When he goes down? I'm not saying this is the problem, just saying. Its... new. A younger, less well connected senator chooses her. Adopts her, we'll say."
"But no conflict."
"Not that I see. This new senator? Picks her up, out of the whole... ethics committee thing, just ain't working out."
"Now. I remember that period. I remember she was all excited, to get adopted. This younger senator? Not the juice she was used to having, but... this senator really gets me."
"Hmm. New senator. Not, into the whole... system. Sees miss goody two shoes, getting run out of ethics committee. Wants that. Courts her. Adopts her. This? Is change. This? Is a new recipe."
"I mentioned working backwards."
"You did."
"Okay. Start at bathtub. You go back... if not conflict, what's the first weird thing you run into."
He stared off now. Musing, thinking. Guessing. Hunching.
"This?"
I asked now.
"Okay. You got that magic gut. We got a whole library to look at, we narrow it down. One bookend, goes on... bathtub. Move the other bookend back... it goes here?"
He shrugged.
"It could. Nice to try a new line of reasoning. Setting the bookends, gives us less to look at. Smaller circle. I'm guessing, we contain it to work."
"So? What do you do now."
"I look quietly, at what she worked on, between bookends. I learn all about this new senator."
"Bill?"
"Yeah..."
"I honestly don't know how you keep your shit together. To deal with this, to talk about this."
"You remember how you found me? Sitting there. Numb. In shock."
He whispered.
"Yeah."
"Her friend. The lawyer. She... took me to the hospital. They put me down, with a shot. I had to be sedated."
"Its understandable."
"They gave me another shot. A really strong, anti-depressant. Time release. I get a shot once a week or ten days. If I try to go from seven to ten days? It... starts again. I'll end up on the floor, probably like you found me. A bottle of little white pills, that... sort of activate it or whatever. One white pill that goes with it? Puts me down to sleep. But its not narcotic."
"Oh."
"That's how I do it. A big shot once a week, and a bottle of little white pills. One at bedtime."
"That... makes it so you can deal with it."
"If you want to call it that? Fine. Do you have any idea what my nightmares are like now?"
"I can imagine."
"And... I keep seeing it. I know I'm not crazy, its just PTSD. But... that image. Every time I try to think of her, and I want to remember something nice? All I get, is that image pops up. I mean, someone took her from me. But, they could have just left me with my memories, you know? That hurts more. They ruined my memories, all those good things. I can't think of her, without bathtub popping up and its right there. So lifelike? I can touch it."
He said nothing. There's nothing anyone can say. I realize that.
He left me alone. He must have told the other detectives to give me some time. The lawyer friend came near, but stayed back. I looked out the window. It was starting to rain at that moment. I walked up and looked through the glass. The water on the glass, reminded me of being sedated in the hospital. Everything looks wavy and watery.
I had a sudden urge. To go out and walk in the rain. So I did. It was the only way I had found yet, that I could think about something nice, some happy memory of her? And the bathtub didn't pop up in my vision. Its the only thing I get now.
I walked around aimlessly in the rain for a while. The cold, slightly numb feeling when you're too wet and too cold for too long? I found surprisingly soothing. No bathtub image, either. For the duration of this cold, wet walk. I didn't want it to end. But after a couple hours, it did end. All things, good or bad? Eventually come to an end. This did as well.
I sat there on some park bench, the rain lightening. I'm enjoying the last of it, and don't want to miss one second of it. Its the only way I can remember something wonderful about her, and enjoy it.
I'm not a whole person. Not anymore. I'm like a used engine. The rings are worn. It only works as good as it can? When you can put really thick straight 40 weight oil in it. Seals up the rings, and it runs okay. Only good spring through late fall, when you can use that really thick oil. It has to sit in winter, when that thick of oil won't budge to get warmed up and flow. You'll ruin it, if you insist on trying.
But? If you know. You can use it only from spring through late fall. Most people? Wouldn't know, they think it runs fine. If I don't tell them and explain the problem? They don't know.
That's me now. I'm that car. I can't run, without a powerful shot once a week. A little white pill every night right before bedtime. I don't know that I'll ever get over this. I might not be able to be fixed. What can I do. I know to use the thick oil, to keep me running. A weekly shot, a little white pill every night.
And this. Walking in the rain. The colder, the better. The harder the rain, the more violent the storm? The better it makes me feel.
Lightning has struck my life. Because the person in the bathtub, that's not the only crime victim. I'm damaged beyond repair now. I'm a victim, too. People can't see it, but I'm wounded and beyond repair. I'm walking wounded. There's clearly something wrong. The way I stare off into space sometimes. My cold, vacant stare. My lack of emotions. I'm an empty shell now. And yeah. Walking in the cold rain, enjoying a storm.
She lives in the rain now.
They didn't just kill her. They ruined me forever. My soul has been ripped from my body, shredded and flushed down the toilet.
That's what they've really done.
Stolen my soul.