Эд Горман - Stranglehold

“But you’re not anymore, honey.”

This smile was warm. “She’s my number-one fan.”

“What did your father say to you when he found you?”

He fired up another cigarette. As a card-carrying liberal I should have whipped out my CD about the dangers of secondhand smoke, especially around pregnant women, but I decided I’d be selfish and push him for more information instead.

“He gave me a line of crap about how sorry he was he’d never contacted me and how he wanted to make it all up to me and how he’d had some rough times — the way he told it, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and he’d made the mistake of hanging around the wrong kind of people and he’d had a bad childhood, all the usual bullshit — and that he wanted to help me make some money so I could get the chance in life that he’d never had. I just sort of watched him — I actually thought it was kind of funny. The way he was trying to work me, I mean. I think he actually thought I believed everything he was saying about wanting to be my old man now and how we’d hang together the rest of our lives.”

“He scared me. There was just something about him.” Gwen had her hands pressed protectively against her stomach as she said this. “And I hated what he got Bobby involved in.”

Bobby’s shrug hinted at my reaction to her words. Bobby was smart. Bobby was tough. Nobody involved him in anything — he involved himself.

“The blackmail?”

“Yeah.”

“His idea was to present you as proof that you were his son with Susan Cooper?”

“Right. We were going to make a lot of money. And the way he figured it, we’d keep on making money as long as she kept running for office.”

“I was totally against it,” Gwen said. “By that time I hated that man. And now look what’s happened.”

“Why did you go to Monica’s room?”

His eyes found his wife’s. “I was going to tell her to forget it. That I didn’t want any part of what she and my old man were up to. I wasn’t getting anywhere with my old man, so I thought I’d try Monica. Gwen really leaned on me about it. She said that she didn’t want to bring our baby into the world this way. When I got there Monica was already dead. I ran and that’s when somebody saw me. And as soon as Mr. Shapiro got me out of jail, I went to my old man’s to tell him the same thing — that I didn’t want my name mixed up in it, that I was going to have a kid now. He didn’t care.”

“How did Larson get involved in this? He said that Monica worked this by herself.”

“I don’t know. He just started showing up and one day we got into it. All I knew was that the money was coming from Natalie. And Monica was handling that. Larson wanted to know all the details.”

“Bobby, do you have any idea who killed Donovan and Monica?”

He ran a rough hand across his face. “No. When that Indian detective was firing questions at me, I kept wishing that I knew a name to give her. But I don’t.”

“You need to turn yourself in, Bobby.”

He glared at Gwen. “I told you that he’d say this.” His gaze on me was no less harsh. “No way, man. We can raise our baby in Mexico. Start a life there.”

“You read much about Mexico lately, Bobby?”

“You mean all the drug gangs? I know how to handle myself. And I know how to stay out of trouble.”

At any other time I would have smiled. The life he’d described as his own had been nothing but trouble, ending in this motel room wanted for two murders.

Gwen said, “I don’t want to move to Mexico. But I don’t want Bobby to give himself up, either. I might never see him again.” She put her head down and started crying softly. Bobby got up and went over and sat next to her on the bed. He held her and I felt good for both of them. He was troubled and half crazed, but he knew enough to care for the one person in his life whose love was clean and true.

I made an effort to sound gentle. “You can’t run, Bobby. There’s no place to go. And I doubt you have any money.”

Gwen sobbed, “You can’t expect him to turn himself in!”

“Shapiro’s a good lawyer. Running will just make things worse.”

“I won’t let him turn himself in! I’ll never see him again!” Gwen sobbed even louder.

“There’s no other choice right now, none.”

But Bobby’s expression had softened. His gaze was more sorrowful than belligerent. He took her to him and held her close and kissed the top of her head. I hoped that my daughter’s someday man would be this loving. Then he started slowly shaking his head, staring at the wall. He must have realized that I was right. Mexico was a pipe dream. And where would he go if he stayed in the States?

I had my own realization to face. There was no way any of this would stay out of the press for long. Police departments are filled with snitches eager to call reporters. And given Susan’s liberal record, they’d likely be eager to help Duffy. Not all of them, but most of them. I hoped that when the news broke, Duffy would be sensible enough to go out and get drunk for at least a day. I would. As for our campaign, we’d be playing defense right up until the election. If neither Susan nor Natalie had anything to do with the murders, the scandal would settle on her bearing a child she’d put up for adoption in her wild days. In recent years some people had been reelected after being outed as wife beaters, check forgers, hooker lovers. The only thing in our favor was that this was an old story. And being cynical, if we could put Susan and Bobby in a loving interview together, maybe we could get lucky and find sentiment on our side.

Bobby said, “Call Mr. Shapiro, I guess.”

“No!” Gwen cried. She was coming apart and I felt like hell for being a part of it. Then she lay back on the bed and covered her face with her hands.

I slid my cell phone out of my pocket. Bobby held Gwen even tighter. Then she was struggling up and heading to the bathroom. Moments later she began to vomit.

When the police station came into view, Bobby made a grunting sound as if he’d been punched in the belly. “This might be the last day I ever spend outside of jail. Maybe Gwennie’s right.”

“I don’t believe that.” The day had turned cold and windy; the light rental rocked as wind gripped it. We had stashed Gwen in a nice warm hotel room.

“Yeah? And what’s that supposed to mean to me? You’re in this because of some stupid political campaign. I’m in this for my life.”

I pulled into the parking lot and shut down the motor. I sat there silent for a long moment, then said, “Bobby, I’ll tell you what. You think I don’t want to help you and Gwen, how about this? You open that door and start running. I’ll give you two hours before I let the police know about any of this. How’s that sound?”

He fell back against the seat. He was still strapped in. His eyes closed. From what I could tell, a sob had caught in his throat. “I should never have listened to my old man. I suppose I did because I’m just like him.”

“No, you’re not. That’s bullshit and you know it. The way you treat Gwen, the way you love her — from what I know of your old man, that wasn’t him at all. And you backed out. You told him that and you went to see Monica to tell her that.” I hesitated to say this because I wasn’t sure it was true. “You take after your mother.”

He didn’t speak for a time. He brought his head up and stared out the side window. A few cars passed, their exhaust silver ghosts in the daylight. A black-and-white squad car pulled into the lot and went on past us to the back of the station where a number of other black-and-whites were parked. Wind came then and grasped the rental from below and rocked it back and forth like a boat. In the glass, Bobby was wiping his tears with his fingers and taking deep breaths. “You trust that detective?” He was back to looking at me again.