Small Crimes (27 page)

‘I
won't.' She was shaking her head harder, her face completely bloodless. 'How
could you ask me to do something like this?’

‘Charlotte,
please—'

'Get
out of here. Get out now or I'll scream.’

‘You're
not going to scream and you are going to make sure Manny dies of a morphine
overdose.’

‘You're
insane.'

'No,
not me. And please, quit this act. I know about you, Charlotte. I talked with
Dr. Henri Bouchaire. He told me about what you did in Montreal.'

Her
mouth fell open. I watched the transformation as her face turned more into a
mask of death.

She
said, 'He lied to you. If he said I hurt anyone, he lied to you. They
investigated those deaths. They checked the levels on the IV bags and saw that
the machines hadn't been tampered with.'

'He
didn't lie to me,' I said. 'He told me how you probably used a syringe to
inject a fatal dose of morphine into the patient's IV tubing. I don't know if
you were told this, but he marked the IV tubing on your last victim, and he
knows you replaced it after the guy died.'                    

'He's
lying.'

'He's
not lying, and even if he's somehow mistaken, it wouldn't matter. If he talked
to Bradley Memorial, you'd be finished here, and I guarantee you, no hospital
in the States would touch you. And if any of your patients at Bradley Memorial
died of respiratory failure, their cases will be reopened, and you'll be
looking at murder charges.'

She
started sobbing then. It was noiseless. Other than the tears and a slight
heaving in her chest, I wouldn't have been able to tell she was crying. It got
so quiet. As I watched, my stomach tightened into knots. I felt sick about what
I was doing. I found myself wanting to comfort her. I leaned forward and tried
to take hold of her hands, but she pulled them away from me.

"This
is no big deal,' I tried to explain. 'You've done it before, you can do it one
more time. And trust me, Manny Vassey is the most rotten sonofabitch you'll
ever meet. He's not worth wasting any tears over. If anything, it's a shame
you'll be putting him out of his misery.'

Through
her sobbing, she forced out, 'You lied to me.'

'What
are you talking about?'

"The
only reason you wanted to see me was because of this.'

The
knots in my stomach pulled tighter. 'Maybe at first,' I admitted. 'But
Charlotte, I'm being honest now, most of what I've told you has been the truth.
I have felt good being with you, better than I've felt in years. I don't know
if you'll ever want to see me again after this, but if we can get past this, I
think we could be good for each other. When this is all over, I'd like to keep
seeing you. I promise you, everything I'm telling you now is the truth.'

'How
am I supposed to get the morphine? The hospital doesn't leave narcotics lying
around. You have to sign them out.'

'I
figure you can siphon morphine from other patients.'

From
the look that flashed across her face, I knew that's what she had done in
Montreal. Then her eyes and mouth opened and her hands went to the sides of her
face, and for a moment she was a spitting image of Edvard Munch's famous
painting
The Scream.
She
sat frozen like that for a horrible few seconds, and then she started sobbing
again. Still noiseless, but more violent than before. Her whole body convulsed
with it. Her face seemed to fold up into a mass of creases, her mouth now
nothing more than a large gaping black hole.

'Don't
make me do this,' she pleaded through her sobs. 'Don't make me do this.'

Her
hands clenched again into tiny fists and she started punching her legs.

I
got up and held her, trying to keep her from hitting herself. She didn't pull
away or try to fight me this time. Instead, her head buried itself hard in my
stomach while her tears and saliva soaked my shirt. Still she begged me, her
voice muffled by my body.

'What's
the big deal?' I tried asking her. 'He's going to be dead in a few weeks
anyway.'

But
I knew what the big deal was. For years I had promised myself that when I got
out of jail I'd never cause any more harm. Somehow I knew she had made the same
promise to herself. That when she left Montreal, she'd never do anything like
that again. In my case, it didn't take me long to break my promise, but I was
forced to. I had no other choice. And now I was doing the same to her.

Her
body felt so warm and moist as I held her. I tried holding her harder. I tried
to slow down her sobbing. At that moment I felt so empty inside. So rotten. As
I looked at her, I realized I had no choice either. I told her I wasn't going
to make her overdose Manny.

'I'll
figure something else out,' I said.

Her
sobbing slowly subsided. I held her and ran my hand through her hair and kissed
the top of her head, and told her not to worry about anything. After awhile she
pulled away from me - not in a harsh way, but so she could look up at me.

'You're
not going to make me do it?' she asked

'No,
I won't. I'm sorry that I put you through this.' I took one of her linen
napkins and used it to wipe her tears. 1 didn't think it would be that big a
deal to you,' I lied.

'I
never did what Dr Bouchaire told you I did. I don't know why he has to tell
people I did those things.'

It
was her turn to lie, but that was okay. I smiled and told her I believed her.

'I
don't want you going to prison, but I can't do something like that."

'Don't
worry about me. I'm not going to prison. I'll think of something.'

'Maybe
he won't say anything about you.’

‘Maybe.'

She
took hold of my hand and kissed it, and then held my hand against the side of
her face. I stood there feeling a mix of relief and panic. I had no idea what I
was going to do next.

'Look
at me,' she said, showing a sad clown's smile. 'I must be a mess.'

That
was putting it mildly. Her crying had left black smudges under her eyes and
streaks of makeup running down her face. Somehow, even strands of her hair had
gotten drenched, and were now knotted up and looking like something that
might've been pulled out of a drain.

I
reached down and kissed her. Awkwardly, she tried to kiss back.

'I'm
sorry all this happened,' I said. 'Why don't you go get yourself cleaned up.'

'Will
you stay and wait for me?' she asked.

I
shook my head.
'I
better get going.'

'You
don't have to. You can stay if you'd like.'

'I'd
like to, but I got to get some rest and figure stuff out.'

'Will
I see you again?'

'Of course you will. As soon as this is over,
we'll get
together.'

I turned to leave and I heard her call out
to
me. When I looked back, she was blushing.
'Joe,
if you go to prison we could still marry.'

I
had to bite my tongue to keep from
bursting out laughing.
It was so damn funny and sad at the same time. There was no
question
she wasn't all there, but I smiled as sweetly as I could and told her that was
exactly what we would do. And the saddest part was knowing everything that I
did about her, I still found myself attracted to her.

When
I got out to the parking lot, I saw that Hal Wheely was gone. I guess he
decided I wasn't worth losing sleep over.

Chapter 16

I
drove aimlessly. At first I was numb, no thoughts, nothing, and then a raw,
cold panic overtook me. I knew Dan was serious about his ultimatum, and I knew
if I was still alive by Wednesday it wouldn't much matter anyway. After Manny
signed his deal and gave his deathbed confession, it would be as good as over
for me.

I
tried to think of some way out, but all I could come up with were nutty ideas;
like sneaking into the hospital and overdosing Manny myself, or using the
sixty-three hundred dollars I had left to bribe an orderly to do the job for
me. As I said, they were nutty ideas, and they would've sent me straight to
prison, but that was all I could come up with. After a while I started thinking
of Phil, of whether there was a chance I could get away with hiding somewhere
near his front door with a hunting rifle.

The
panic hit me hard, harder than the other day at Kelley's. It got to the point
where I could barely breathe. As I drove, a numbness spread through my legs and
arms. I felt as if my limbs were dead and no longer a part of me. And the
coldness, Jesus; it was like ice cubes were being pushed into my skull. Then
all at once I knew I was going to black out. The world started tilting sideways
on me and it was all I could do to pull over, crawl out of my car, and curl up
on the side of the road.

I
didn't black out. I came close, but I was able to fight through it. After a
while I pushed myself up into a sitting position, grabbed my knees, and rocked
back and forth until I felt I could stand. Then I got to my feet.

My
clothes were drenched through with sweat. It took about all the strength I had,
but I hobbled to the trunk, opened it, and pulled out my duffel bag. I found
some clean clothes and changed there by the side of the road. I had to rest for
a while, and then after dumping the duffel bag back into the trunk, I got into
the driver's seat, and just sort of collapsed.

For
a long time all I could do was hold my head in my hands. I felt so lousy. I
started to think how a few lines of coke would make me feel so much better, how
it would help clear out the cobwebs clouding my head. After a while that was
all I could think of. It got to the point where I could almost taste cocaine in
the back of my throat.

I
forced my head up and looked in my rearview mirror. I looked as bad as I felt.
My skin was so damn pale and my eyes so damn red. I steeled myself, and then
started the car and pulled back onto the road. My hands shook as I drove. I
decided I'd make a quick trip to Kelley's. And, as I told myself, I wanted to
see Earl anyway and let him know there were no hard feelings about his
affidavit.

Kelley's
was more crowded than the other night. I ended up having to create a makeshift
parking spot next to the dumpster. Before going in, I read over the copy of
Earl's affidavit that Junior had given me, and then folded it into my jacket's
inside pocket.

The
same biker type from the other night looked me over at the door. Inside, the
place was jammed. Every seat around the stage was filled and every table was
taken. Springsteen's 'My Hometown' blasted over the speakers, and I glanced in
the direction of the stage and saw a dark brunette slip out of her G-string.
The way I was feeling it made no impact. I headed towards the bar, spotted Earl
pouring some draft beers, and nodded at him. He noticed me and gave me a cold
eye back in return. The bar was mostly empty. I pulled up a stool so I could
sit across from him.

'How'ya
doing, Earl,' I said.

He
lifted his eyes towards me. 'Man, you look like shit.'

'Yeah,
well, I'm feeling kind of crappy.'

'So
you had to come here to spread the wealth, huh? Infect me and my girls and my
customers?'

'I
don't think I have anything contagious. Probably just suffering from
allergies.' I lowered my voice. I could really use a few lines. Whatever it
costs.'

'I
don't know what you're asking.'

I
took twenty dollars out of my wallet and placed it on the bar. 'Come on, Earl,
my head's a mess right now. Three lines. That's all.'

'Wait
a second. You trying to buy coke from me? That's illegal, man.'

I
stared at him and he gave me a dead-eyed stare right back.

'Fine,'
I said. 'Make it a beer and a shot of whiskey.'