Break and Enter (23 page)

“Bingo.”

Steve and Roger drove down from Atlanta the following Thursday, arriving in mid-afternoon, and Robbie slept with Mike and me Thursday night, which he loved to do, so Steve and Roger could have his bed. Zeke and Josh came by to pick up our guests Friday around noon, and we all headed for Disney World. The two visitors from Atlanta were in the twins’ car with Zeke and Josh, Norm and Zeb were in Norm’s car, and Mike, Robbie, and myself were in our truck. Thor was at his favorite place—the boarding kennel. We knew it was his favorite place by the degree of excitement he exhibited when we drove up the long driveway to the kennel, which was situated on ten acres west of town.

Charles and Philip had flown down in Charles’s Cessna and were waiting for us at the Disney Contemporary Resort, where they had booked a pair of suites, each having two bedrooms. I didn’t even want to contemplate what it must have cost. We planned to visit the Magic Kingdom on the annual Gay Day, which was the first Saturday in June.

The six boys—Josh and Norm were twenty-two, and the other four were a year and two years younger, respectively, but Mike and I thought of them as boys—wore the customary uniform of the day, which was a red T-shirt or some variant thereof. Mike and I were dressed in shorts and regular polo shirts, as were Charles and Philip; we were among the first hundred people in line when the gates opened Saturday morning, and we hurried to Space Mountain, as it was still one of the most popular rides in the Magic Kingdom. On a visit to Six Flags Over Georgia the previous year we had learned that Robbie loved the rides—the wilder the better.

By the time we stopped for lunch, we were ready for a break. The boys were still going strong, but the rest of us were very nearly ready to call it a day. We ate lunch in one of the many restaurants, during the course of which the boys decided to tackle some more rides, and the rest of us were planning to return to the hotel to take a nap. We had passes that would gain us admittance to the park on Sunday, so there was no rush.

We walked a little way from the restaurant, and Robbie said, “I need to pee.”

“Now that you mention it,” I said, “so do I, and there’s a restroom just ahead.”

Mike waited with Charles and Philip while I went inside the restroom with Robbie. The minute we entered the room, I sensed that something was very wrong. There was an unusual smell, which I identified as fresh blood, and there were moans coming from one of the stalls.

“Robbie,” I said, “run and get Mike right now.”

“But I have to pee.”

“No argument,” I said. “Go now.”

I had never spoken to him quite that sharply, so he ran from the room. I looked under the edges of the stall doors, and as far as I could tell, only one stall was occupied, and I saw a pool of blood on the floor. Mike came into the room with Robbie in tow, followed by Charles and Philip. “What’s up?” Mike said.

“One of you block the entrance,” I said, “one of you call 911, and one of you get Robbie out of here as soon as he takes care of his business. There’s someone hurt in the last stall, and there’s blood all over the floor.”

I left the three of them to sort out who would do what, and I went to the last stall and cautiously opened the door. A man who appeared to be in his fifties was sitting on the toilet, pants around his ankles. There was a knife on the floor between his feet, and he was clutching his stomach. Blood was seeping steadily from beneath his hands. He seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness.

“I’m a police officer,” I said, hoping it would penetrate. “Help is on the way.”

I took a handkerchief out of my pocket, moved his hands out of the way, and held it tightly against the wound as a compress. Then Philip said from behind me, “Mike took Robbie outside, and Charles is calling 911. What can I do?”

“Give me a handkerchief, if you have one. Mine is getting saturated.”

He complied, and the blood flow finally slowed down a bit when I pressed the additional handkerchief in place. The man was starting to mumble, so I decided to attempt to question him, but first I said to Philip, “Got something to write on, and with.”

“Sure,” he said. “I always carry a pen and a small notebook in case I suddenly think of an idea for one of my books.”

“Good. Put them to use now, please.”

“Sir,” I said to the man, “can you tell us what happened?”

“He stabbed me,” the man said.

“Who stabbed you?” I said.

“Jack.”

“Jack who?” I said.

“Jack.”

“How did you get here?” I said.

“My car.”

“Can you describe it?”

“Jag.” His voice lapsed into a mumble.

“Can you tell us your name?”

“Juan Lopez… live in…
mumble
… stole my wallet…
mumble
….”

Before I could ask him anything else, a deep voice said, “What’s going on here? Please step away from that stall.”

“I can’t do that,” I said. “This man has been stabbed. He’s bleeding, and I need to hold this compress in place.”

“Let me see,” the voice said.

A heavyset man wearing a uniform pushed in between Philip and me and peered into the stall.

“Holy shit,” he said.

“Indeed,” I said. “There’s a knife on the floor. I’m not quite sure precisely where he was stabbed, but it’s somewhere south of his navel. We’ve pretty much exhausted two handkerchiefs already.”

“Good thinking,” he said, and he handed me another handkerchief. “Who are you?”

“Captain Martin with the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office,” I said. “Folder and shield are in my right hip pocket if you want to check.”

I felt a hand explore my pocket and the folder being removed. “So you are,” he said. I felt the folder being slipped back into my pocket. “This must be your lucky day, stumbling on a crime on your day off.”

“This man identified his attacker as Jack,” I said. “He has the victim’s wallet and might be driving the victim’s Jaguar. That’s all I could get out of him. Give the officer what you wrote, Philip.”

“Sure, George,” Philip said.

The EMT team arrived, and I was finally able to back out of the stall. The officer to whom I had been talking identified himself as Sam Rainey, and we shook hands. He stared at me for a long moment.

“Holy shit,” he said, “I recognize you from that television series about your department. It was on the cable last month.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“Let’s go outside,” he said, “so I can get a formal statement from you.”

“Sure. Give me a minute or two to wash all this blood off my hands.”

Philip and I followed him outside, where a small crowd had gathered. Mike and Robbie were sitting on a bench under a nearby shade tree with Charles. Robbie spotted me and yelled, “Dad.”

He ran over and hugged me around the thighs, which were chest high for him. “What’s happening?” he said.

“There was a man in the restroom,” I said, “and he’d been stabbed.”

His eyes got wide at that, and he said. “Was he dead?”

Oh God, I hope this doesn’t cause him to have flashbacks about his mother’s death.

“No, but he was bleeding badly. Philip and I used our handkerchiefs to try to stop the bleeding.”

“Wow.”

“Robbie, why don’t you go over there and sit with Mike and Charles while I talk to this policeman?”

“Yes, Sir,” he said, and he went to the table.

“My partner and I adopted him last year,” I said to the cop. “He’d just witnessed his mother being beaten to death by his father. A week or so later, the father was shot while resisting arrest. I’m afraid all of this may bring back some of his old nightmares.”

“Damn,” Sam said, “that’s a lot for a little kid to go through. How old was he then?”

“He was a couple of months shy of six when his mother died,” I said, “and he’s been through a ton of counseling since then.”

“Okay,” he said, “let’s get your statement, and you folks can go on your way.”

I took him through it, step by step, until he seemed satisfied that he had enough information. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m sure either my sergeant or the lieutenant will be contacting you.”

“Good,” I said. “I don’t know anyone in your department, but I did work on a case some time back with a lieutenant with the OPD.”

“Who?” Sam said.

“Lieutenant Clarence Ivory,” I said.

“Big black guy, sounds like James Earl Jones?”

“That’s Clarence. One of the really good guys.”

“Yeah, I’ve met him a few times.”

Philip and I went to where the rest of our party was waiting. “Can we go to the hotel now?” Robbie said.

“You bet we can, kiddo,” I said.

I lifted Robbie onto my shoulders, and the five of us headed for the monorail, and by the time we reached the hotel, it was after three.

In our suite, Philip and Charles retired to their room, and Mike and I did the same. We crawled in our bed and allowed Robbie to snuggle in between us. Mike and I woke up about an hour later, but Robbie was still out cold, so we got up and quietly went into the sitting room. Charles and Philip emerged from their room a few minutes later.

“Where’s Robbie?” Charles said.

“Still out cold,” I said. “He was worn out.”

“We’re just hoping that the incident in the restroom won’t cause him to have any flashbacks about his mother,” Mike said.

“Yeah,” I said, “it’s only been a year, and he’s come such a long way since then.”

“Frankly,” Mike said, “we think Lydia is a miracle worker.”

“That she is,” Charles said.

“Yeah,” Philip said, “she worked wonders with my nephew after his father beat him half to death.”

“Mrs. Barnett alluded to that when we met Lydia,” I said, “but she didn’t elaborate.”

“Basically,” Philip said, “my sister and her family were out of town for the weekend. Steve stayed home, and his best friend came over to stay with him. My brother-in-law came back home unexpectedly and walked in on them when they were in bed fooling around. He flew into a rage and very likely would have beaten Steve to death if his friend hadn’t picked up something heavy and hit him over the head with it.”

“Steve was just conscious enough,” Charles said, “to beg his buddy to bring him to us in Atlanta instead of a hospital there in Louisiana. His buddy called his brother, and the two of them drove through the night, arriving at our door at first light.”

“Anyway,” Philip said, “we were talking about Lydia. My sister got a divorce, and I got custody of Steve because he was afraid to go home. After several months with Lydia, he managed to go to his father’s trial, look him in the face, and testify.”

“How old was Steve at the time?” I said.

“Not quite sixteen,” Philip said.

“Wow,” Mike said. “If someone ever did something like that to Robbie, I don’t know what I would do, but it wouldn’t be pretty.”

“Speaking of Robbie,” I said, “I think I just heard noises coming from our bedroom.”

The bedroom door opened, and Robbie came into the living room. “Hi, big guy,” I said. “Have a nice nap?”

“Yes, Sir,” he said. Mike and I were sitting on a small sofa, and Robbie squeezed in between us.

“How did you like Disney World, Robbie?” Charles said.

“It was cool,” Robbie said.

“Ready to go back to Space Mountain?” Charles said.

“Yes, Sir.”

“I think we can be in line tomorrow morning before it gets too crowded,” I said.

The telephone rang. Charles, who was sitting next to it, answered. “It’s for you, George,” he said, holding the receiver.

I walked across the room and picked up the phone. After a minute of conversation, I said, “Come on up,” and hung up the telephone.

“That was a lieutenant with the sheriff’s department,” I said. “He was calling from downstairs and wants to get our stories firsthand.”

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door, so Mike got up and opened the door. “Captain Martin?” we heard a voice say.

“No,” Mike said, “but please come in.”

A short and somewhat plump man of forty or thereabouts came into the room, and I got up from the sofa and said, “I’m George Martin.”

“Lieutenant Barker,” the man said.

We shook hands, and I introduced him to everyone else in the room.

“Have a seat, Lieutenant,” I said, “and tell us what we can do for you.”

“I have the report you folks gave Deputy Rainey,” Barker said, “but I want to get a firsthand account. So, who wants to tell me what happened?”

“I do,” Robbie said.

“Go right ahead,” Barker said, with a look of amusement on his face.

•
16 •

“We had lunch,” Robbie said, “and were walking to the monorail station. I told my Dad that I had to pee, and he said, ‘so do I’, and we went to the restroom. The minute we got inside, he said, ‘Robbie, go get Mike right now.’ I said, ‘But I have to pee,’ and he said, ‘Don’t argue, just go get Mike.’ I went back outside and told everybody something was wrong. When we got inside, Dad said, ‘There’s somebody hurt in the last stall. Somebody block the door, somebody call 911, and somebody get Robbie out of here after he finishes his business.’ I peed, and Daddy took me outside.”

I looked at Robbie in amazement and started probing his hair with my fingers. “Dad,” he said, “what are you doing?”

“Looking for the little tape recorder you’ve got hidden in there. That was just about verbatim, as best I can recall.” I ruffled his hair and said, “You did good, kiddo.”

Looking at the lieutenant, I said, “That’s about the size of it. The minute I walked inside that restroom, I knew something was wrong. I heard moans, and I smelled blood, which is a smell you don’t ever forget. After Mike and Charles left with Robbie, I looked in the stall. There was an older man sitting on the toilet—he was clutching his stomach, and blood was running out from under his hands. There was a knife on the floor between his legs—I didn’t get a good look at it, but it might have been a pocketknife. He was bleeding profusely, so I used my handkerchief as a compress, and when my handkerchief was saturated, Philip gave me his. I managed to get a few words out of the guy, and Philip wrote them down. The rest you know.”