Frank Zafiro - Some Degree of Murder

“No wonder he was acting funny after you left. Sumbitch was holding out.”

“Can you send him out?”

“He’s not here. Took off a little while after he talked to you yesterday.”

I clenched my jaw and fought to keep myself under control. I handed Door Man one of my business cards. “If Rowdy shows up or you hear where he is, you call me.”

“Why do you care who killed Sammy G., anyway?”

“It’s my job to care.”

Rowdy’s only other address of record was his mother’s house in Hillyard. I took Market north until I reached Asbury and turned west. She lived on the 2800 block. I parked off about half a block and crept up to the house.

The house was dark red brick. The lawn was an off yellow with intermittent patches of pale green and dirt. A motorcycle sat in the front yard near the curb with a For Sale sign taped to the handlebars.

I knocked on the door and listened As the door swung open, I could hear the unmistakable sounds of a soap opera. The woman who opened the door had a cigarette dangling from her lip and she bore what looked like a permanent squint.

“What do you want?”

I showed her my badge. “Yeah, so?”

“I need to talk to your son.”

“Why are you guys always picking on my Cody?”

“Is he home?”

She stared at me. “No. He comes and goes as he pleases.”

“Is that his bike?” I pointed to the Harley in the front yard.

“Yeah,” she said.

“How long has it been for sale?”

“Since yesterday afternoon when he dropped it off.”

“If he doesn’t have his bike, what is he driving?”

Her squint deepened into a scowl. “His van. Why’re you asking all these questions?”

I pulled out a business card. “If Cody comes by, give me a call, would you?”

She looked at the card between my fingers like it was a turd. “I don’t think so. Cody wants to talk to you, he can find you.”

“Mrs. Heinz-”

She jerked her head toward the street. “Now get off of my property.”

She slammed the door.

I slipped my card in her mailbox and walked back out to the street. Before I left, I wrote down the phone number on the For Sale sign.

VIRGIL

The front portion of the Palms Hotel was smoldering and two fire trucks stood at the ready in the background. A beautiful blonde reporter babbled silently into her microphone.

“Turn that up,” I said.

Gina reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the remote. In seconds, the volume was up.

“-engines from Fire Station One responded to this blaze. According to sources, the first alarm was received around four this morning. Three engines responded and managed to suppress the fire, but not after extensive damage had been sustained by the hotel.”

While the reporter spoke, file footage was shown of the Palms blazing away in the darkness of the morning.

“Initial statements from Assistant Fire Chief Mike Pierson were that three bodies were discovered in one of the hotel rooms.”

The face of the Assistant Fire Chief filled the screen. “At this time, the bodies have been badly burned and we are unable to determine whether they were killed by the fire.”

The blonde returned to the screen. “The names of the victims have not been determined at this time. Once the victims are identified, the names won’t be released until the families have been notified. For Channel 5 Action News, I’m Shawna Matheson.”

Gina stopped the noise from the screen. “Is that the loose end you had to wrap up?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“I already know the answer,” she said and rolled out of bed.

Gina padded over to the table in the corner of the room and grabbed a cigarette. Still naked, she dropped into the upholstered chair and brought her knees up to her chest. She fired up her cigarette and took a pull.

“Throw me the pack and the lighter.”

Gina carefully arced the items on to the bed next to me. I shook one free, lit it and inhaled deep.

“What’s the next step?” she asked.

“I’m going back to find Rowdy.”

“You’re going back to the house in Hillyard?”

“As soon as I get a shower.”

“Want me to go along?”

“No.”

“I can help you.”

“No, you can’t.”

“I stitched you back up, if you don’t remember.”

“And I’m thankful for that.”

“I also let you get naked with me last night.”

“Which I’m also thankful for. But this isn’t a path you want to go down, Gina. I’ll drop you off at your house and then I’ll take care of this business.”

“How about I stay here?”

“What would you do while I’m gone?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Order room service. Watch movies.”

“If you want to wait here, I’m not going to kick you out.”

Gina took a deep drag on her cigarette and pushed the smoke out in one long exhale. She watched me, her eyes intent. “You must have loved her.” Her tone was different, jealous almost.

“Loved who?”

“Your daughter. For you to put yourself this situation, take the kind of hurting that you did and still want to go forward, she must have been very special.”

I rolled my cigarette carefully between my thumb and forefinger. “I never met her.”

“What?” Gina kicked her legs out from underneath her and ground out her cigarette in the ashtray on the table.

“I never met her,” I repeated.

“Then why are you doing all of this?”

I stood and walked over to the table and ground out my own cigarette. With a single step I was back at the bed and dropped onto my back. I winced with pain when my broken teeth clacked together.

Gina leaned forward in the chair with her elbows on her knees, waiting for an answer.

“She was my daughter.”

“But you never met her.”

I turned my head to her and met her eyes. “Do you believe in God?”

She smirked. “What?”

“God. Do you believe in him?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” she said with a small shrug.

“Have you ever seen him?”

Gina slanted her eyes at me. “It’s not the same thing.”

I turned my head back and stared at the ceiling.

Silence hung in the room for several moments before Gina spoke softly. “You can tell me, Virgil.”

I didn’t know what to tell her. I witnessed Fawn’s life through pictures sent by her mother. The only love I gave her came in the form of money I secretly sent her mother. I never heard her voice or the joy in her laugh. I wouldn’t get to see her graduate high school or get married or have children.

Had she lived I still would have never seen those things. That was the reality of our family.

Gina slipped out of her chair and climbed onto the bed. She pulled in close to me and I could feel her breath on my chest.

“It’s okay, Virgil, you don’t have to tell me. But make me one promise.”

I stroked her hair and closed my eyes. “What’s that?”

“Come back in one piece.”

I stopped down the street from the house on Asbury and saw the same maroon colored patrol car that was at the Brotherhood’s clubhouse. The white van was not in the driveway and a motorcycle stood in the middle of the front lawn.

At the front door of the red brick house, Detective John Tower was trying to talk with a woman in her early fifties. I couldn’t see her well, but could tell she was giving Tower a hard time. He tried to say something to her and she slammed the door in his face. He walked over to the motorcycle and wrote down the number on the For Sale sign.

I lowered the driver’s seat back and waited until I heard the patrol car fire up and drive by me.