Fostering Death (30 page)

“Home, I suppose. I don’t seem to be under arrest anymore.”

He laughed. “Yes. I understand the lieutenant told the sergeant to cut you loose.”

“Nobody told me that.”

“They just took off the restraints and walked out, did they?”

“I guess. I didn’t realize they’d left. I can’t see too good.” I touched the swelling around my eyes. “And I feel kind of out of it here. Dizzy and all. I hope it’s the meds and it wears off.”

“I hope you didn’t put a lot of effort into planning to escape.”

“No, sir. No point in that.”

“You’re nobody’s dummy, Jesse. I’ll give you that. Where’s the rest of your clothes?”

“The boots, I don’t know. The paramedics cut the shirt off. It was bloody. I imagine it’s been trashed. And the bomb squad was getting the jacket. Maybe they blew it up.”

He laughed. “The bomb squad gave the jacket to your girlfriend.”

I wished I could be as sure that she was my girlfriend. “What was she doing there?”

“She came to pick up her kids. Most of the parents did.”

“Are the kids okay?”

“As far as I know. Where’d they take your boots off?”

“When they put me in the cubicle back there. Unshackled my legs and took off the boots, then chained me to something or other. The examining table, I imagine.”

“You don’t
know
?”

“Well, a lot was going on. I couldn’t see real well. Still can’t. And I kind of, you know, went to my inner space.”

He rocked back on his well-heeled shoes and considered. “Is what you call it when you drift off in the middle of an interrogation or something?”

“That’s different. I got to pay attention then. Otherwise you’ll tell Mr. Ramirez I’m not cooperating. And it’s hard not to get tripped up.”

He snorted. “You could just try telling us some version of the truth. Then it wouldn’t get so complicated.”

“That’s pretty much what got me convicted of murder in the first place.”

“Wait here. I’ll see if I can dredge up your boots. Then I want to talk to you.”

“Could you see if anybody’s got my wallet and key chain, too?”

He laughed again. “Pathetic. You know that, Jesse? That’s
really
pathetic.”

I tried to grin, but it hurt. “True, that.”

Gingerly, I sat in a waiting room chair, not leaning my bare back on the cold plastic. I let my fingers gently explore my swollen face. The thing they’d taped to my forehead was some kind of tube or string that led from the packing in my nostrils. The top of my nose throbbed worse when I pressed on it. The area surrounding my eyes was puffy and felt tight, but it didn’t really hurt.

I just wanted to lie down and go to sleep. I knew it wasn’t a good idea, but I didn’t really care. I leaned forward, resting my chin on my chest and closed my eyes. That was more comfortable than trying to peer through the swelling. I dozed.

A thump right next to my vulnerable unshod feet woke me up.

Montgomery stood next to me. “There’s your boots. And here’s your wallet and key. You’re probably right about the shirt. Couldn’t find it anywhere.”

Gratefully, I accepted the wallet and keychain and stuffed them into the pocket of my jeans. Leaning forward to deal with the boots made me dizzier. I lifted one up onto my lap, unlaced it and pulled out the tongue. Then I dropped it on the floor and wiggled my foot into it, just tucking the laces inside. The other boot didn’t need to be unlaced—all it had were bits of cut laces in the eyelets.

“Ready?” Montgomery asked.

“I guess.” Unsteadily, I stood up.

He caught me by the arm. “Let’s go.”

He wasn’t calling for transport. He wasn’t pulling out the handcuffs. That in itself was worrisome. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“Where ever you want me to take you,” he said. “To your apartment?”

“You’re giving me a
ride
home?” I could hardly believe that.

“If home’s where you want to go.”

“In your own car? Not in a cage in a patrol car? No restraints?”

Again the laugh. “I
could
call for a prisoner transport, if you’d be more comfortable. And talk to you in an interrogation room.”

“No, no. I’m just not used to this. And I’m pretty confused. My brain’s really messed up right now.”

Montgomery grasped me by the elbow, more to guide than to restrain. “And your mouth’s messed up, too,” he said. “I’ve never heard you talk so much. I might as well take advantage of it.”

“Could we swing by Kelly’s?” I shivered. “See if she’s home. I could get my jacket.”

“If you want.”

As we went out the door, the chill, raw air hit my bare shoulders. Montgomery’s car was pulled up in the driveway just beyond the ambulance bay. He opened the passenger door of the front seat and let me sit down. Then he went to the trunk and pulled something out.

Opening the door again, he said, “Lean forward.” I did so and he draped a zip hoodie over my shivering shoulders. It was one of the expensive kind, with soft fake fur lining. He pulled it around so it covered my back and met in the front.

I was surprised. “Thanks.” Knowing how fastidious he was about his clothes and his person and mindful of the possibility of getting blood on it, I said, “I’ll be sure it’s been washed when I get it back to you.”

“Don’t bother,” he said. “I always keep sweat pants and shirt in the trunk in case I have to go grunging around on an investigation. And have time to change. You can keep it. No big deal.”

Maybe not to him, but a warm hoodie would be a welcome addition to my meager wardrobe. “Thanks,” I said again.

Then he got in the driver’s side and removed the “Official Business” plaque from the windshield.

Montgomery’s car was every bit as meticulously kept as his person. It occurred to me that he might have decided he’d rather give me the hoodie than to chance I’d get his upholstery contaminated, but I reminded myself that he didn’t have to be giving me a ride at all. If he wanted to talk to me, he had plenty of other ways to go about it.

“Why did they just release me?” I asked as he eased the big gray sedan away from the curb.

“They looked at the surveillance videos,” he said. “It was pretty obvious that you were a victim, if anything. And they needed the manpower elsewhere.”

“Any other people hurt?” I asked.

“You’re the only lucky one,” he said. “You and the intruder. Good thing you got those kids out of the way.”

I’d asked before, but I wanted some reassurance. “They’re okay?”

“A bit traumatized, but physically okay. Their mother picked them up and took them home.”

He pulled out of the hospital driveway and headed toward the side of town where Kelly lived, with its big old turn-of-the-twentieth-century brick houses and well-kept yards.

“You know where she lives?” I asked.

He glanced at me. “I know where you put the dirty tissues when you sneeze. Of course I know where she lives.”

That was probably true. We rode in silence for a few minutes.

“How much do you know about that Tabernacle of the Whatever upstairs from your place?” he asked.

“The Tabernacle of the Inaccurate Conception?” I asked.

“Yes. That’s it.”

“Well, to begin with, I think the name’s a typo, so to speak. I think it’s supposed to be the Tabernacle of the
Immaculate
Conception. The sign wasn’t made professionally. And the cult members aren’t a particularly well-educated lot.”

Montgomery narrowed his eyes and glanced at me sideways. “And I suppose you are?”

“No. But I can
read.
And I know the difference between
inaccurate
and
immaculate
.”

“How’d you find that out?”

I shifted in the seat, drawing the hoodie closer around my shoulders. “Remember when you and Belkins left me lying in the alley? When he slammed my head against the wall and kneed me in the nuts?”

“Yes.”

“This cult member, Isaac, helped me get back to my apartment.”

Montgomery raised his fine dark eyebrows. “I didn’t realize you needed help.”

I shrugged. “I kind of passed out. But Isaac got me up and got me down the stairs to my place.”

“What was he doing out in the alley?”

“Turns out they lost their goddess.”

“Lost their goddess?”

“Yeah. They had this cat they thought was their goddess. She got out. I think when this guy Xavier was supposed to be watching her. He’d sneak out for a smoke, leaving the door propped open behind him. Isaac was looking for her.”

“You know Xavier?”

“Not really. Is he the guy who shot up the school?”

“We’re investigating all possibilities.”

“Cause Xavier had a kid he was trying to get custody of. And he just got some kind of gun.”

“What else do you know about the cult?”

“Father Peter, the leader, is Xavier’s father. I don’t know that Xavier’s as dedicated to the whole Tabernacle thing as the rest of them. He had unsupervised visitation with the kid, but I think the mother was trying to get that changed.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I don’t know. If he was really the nutcase who shot up the school, then no. But seems like kids ought to be able to see their father. Supervised, maybe. That’s how Kelly’s kids are supposed to see their father. But I don’t think it would be a good idea to give custody to a crazy like Xavier, even if he wasn’t the shooter.”

“Do you know why Kelly’s kids’ visits with their father are supposed to be supervised?”

“He drinks.” I didn’t mention that Kelly did, too. “He left them in his car one night while he was in a bar, then had a DUI accident with them in the car.”

“Back to the goddess. What happened to the cat?”

“She ended up in the stairwell outside my apartment in the sleet the day I went to Mrs. Coleman’s wake. She looked miserable, so I let her come into my place.”

“Did you think she was a stray?”

“Nah. She was obviously someone’s cat. Fat and she had this heavy collar, with rhinestones and things on it.”

“Really? A collar with rhinestones?”

“Yeah. Probably because they thought she was a goddess. But she hated the collar, kept scratching at it. So I took it off.”

“You still have them?”

“What? The cat? Or the collar?”

“Both.”

“Well, Isaac was real happy to see the cat. Turns out she was pregnant. That’s why she was so fat. She had two kittens. He thought the kittens were little gods. I helped him carry them back upstairs to the altar, where they had this gold box she was supposed to sleep in.”

“Real gold?”

“Gold paint, I think. Then he got kicked out of the cult until he brings back the collar. He took the cat along with him.”

“So where is it now?”

“At my place. I put out enough food and water for her for a while. Since Kelly asked me to come over after work, I was thinking I might get, you know, lucky. And I didn’t want to have to worry about feeding the cat.”

“So where’s the collar?”

“I dunno. Probably somewhere in my place. I tossed it on my dresser. Isaac was so happy to get the goddess back; we never thought about putting the collar back on her.”

“Nobody ever asked about the collar?”

“Just Isaac, like I said. But he decided not to go back to the cult, so I just let it go.”

“So you didn’t look for it?”

“Nah. But I didn’t really look for it, either. I mean,
he
didn’t have anything to do with the collar going missing. Or the cat, for that matter. They wouldn’t believe him. Said he’d probably hocked it. To go back to the pawn shop to get it back.”

“And I take it he’d done no such thing.”

“Nope.”

We rode on in silence. After a few minutes, I said, “Somebody was talking about jewelry in the Tabernacle. Was gonna break in to look for it. A bracelet or something.”

“Who was that?”

“Aaron.” I paused. “Those weren’t
rhinestones
in the collar, were they?”

“Good chance not.”

“Maybe I better see if I can find it. And get rid of it.”

Montgomery glanced at me. “Be careful.”

“Maybe give you a call if it turns up?”

“Might be a good idea.”

The car’s heater was beginning to churn out heat. It felt good and made me sleepy.

“Back to this Tabernacle thing. You think it’s really a cult?” Montgomery asked.

“Seemed like it to me. All dressed in those saffron robes. Saying a cat is their goddess. Everybody is supposed to do whatever Father Peter tells them to. Sure isn’t any kind of regular religion that I ever heard of.”