Four Friends (26 page)

The young man who worked as a valet was watching the parking lot intensely, frowning. There was a man shouting in the parking lot and BJ was immediately pulling back on Gerri’s arm. “Don’t go near that,” BJ said, a note of panic in her voice.

Gerri didn’t even realize she’d already taken two steps toward the scene of a vicious argument between a belligerent young man and cowering young woman. As she took stock of the situation she could see it was completely one-sided and Gerri knew from the man’s posture, it was taking a bad turn. He was tall, good-looking, early thirties, strong and broad. The woman was one of those waif-like, fluffy blondes—too thin, big breasted, tight pants slung below her flat waist. An underfed beauty, speaking so softly that she couldn’t be heard at all above his bellowing.

“Don’t you fucking pull that shit with me! I was around when you were doing that shit to Jack, remember! That fucking acting like you know what the fuck you’re talking about when you don’t know crap! I made a lot of money off that deal and you fucking
screwed
me in there with your big mouth! Right in front of them! Goddamn it, you’re not going to do that to me like you did to him.”

The man was in the woman’s face, looming over her, screaming as she was backing away, shaking her head, trying to explain or apologize or escape. The man was completely out of control, bending over her threateningly, bouncing his closed fist in front of her face, turning almost purple with rage. Gerri looked over her shoulder at the valet. “Call the police,” she said.

He shrugged. “He’s just yelling. They’re not going to come out for yelling.”

“Gerri, don’t,” BJ said, pulling on her arm again. “Let’s just get out of here. Don’t look, don’t watch. It’s not our concern.”

Gerri ignored her as she watched the scene for a moment. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and punched in 911. When the emergency operator answered she knew exactly what to say. “I’m at Lemange restaurant, in the parking lot. There’s a vicious verbal argument between a large man and a small woman and it looks like it’s going to escalate. He’s threatening her with a closed fist in her face and it could get physical at any moment.”

Right then the man shoved the woman hard, causing her to take a couple of stumbling steps backward. She put her hand to the shoulder he’d just hit. “And it just got physical,” Gerri reported. “He just shoved her, hard. She’s no match for him—we need a unit to respond before he gets out of the parking lot, takes her home and beats the crap out of her.”

“Please,” BJ said. “
Please
don’t do this. Let’s go. Let’s not get in their business.”

Gerri ignored her. She gave her name to the police dispatcher. “Of course, I’ll witness charges. Whoa, he just shoved her again. She’s up against the car and he’s still at her, screaming, threatening with a closed fist. This isn’t going anywhere good. Yeah, yeah, I’ll get the license plate in case they clear the parking lot.”

“No, we can’t do this,” BJ said.

Gerri glanced at BJ and saw she’d gone pale, her eyes wide, her lips white. Gerri could see something about this had thrown BJ into a total state of panic. But she couldn’t take care of everyone at once. She fished her keys out of her purse and handed them to Andy. “Take everyone home, I’m following through. I’ll get home later, probably get a lift from a cop.”

“You’ll be okay?” Andy asked.

“Of course. I’m steps from the inside of the restaurant and I have this big kid right here to protect me. Just go. Get Sonja and BJ out of here.”

Andy took the keys. “Come on,” she said to the others. It wasn’t as though this sort of thing happened with Gerri on a regular basis, but given her job Andy knew she was on a first name basis with a lot of the local cops. And she was determined, committed. She handled cases of abuse almost daily—this didn’t frighten her in the least and even though she was off the clock, she couldn’t turn her back on something like this even if she wanted to.

Gerri was barely aware of Andy leading Sonja and BJ away as she watched the man grab the woman’s upper arm, pull her back, shake her and drag her toward the car door. She still had the dispatcher on the line. “He’s shaking her and forcing her into the car. You might want to put a rush on this.” And then she watched, stricken, as the woman banged her head on the roof of the car while getting in. The man took that opportunity to grab her by the hair and give her head another cruel bounce off the car roof. “Oh, God,” Gerri said. The young valet started into the parking lot, now pushed too far, but Gerri grabbed him, pulling him to her side. “No,” she said to the kid. “No, don’t get into it. He’s got you way outsized. Go inside—get help.” Gerri turned back to her phone. “He’s banging her head against the roof of the car,” she said. “Where are the cops?”

Gerri took a couple of brazen steps into the lit parking lot, cell phone against her ear. The man slammed his passenger’s door closed, shouting furiously at her through the closed window. But he was caught—he’d beat her in front of a witness and even if he got out of the parking lot, the police could be in pursuit as long as they had the description and plate number. As he rounded the front of the car he caught sight of Gerri.

“What are you looking at, bitch?”

She took another step, very conscious that she could quickly retreat to safety if necessary. “You,” she said. “I’m watching you! I have the police on the line!”

He stopped where he was and snarled at her, baring his teeth, but then he whirled and got into the driver’s seat. Gerri described the car and rattled off the license plate to the dispatcher, using the phonetic code on the letters.

“Ma’am, are you P.D.?” the dispatcher asked.

“CPS,” she said. And then she watched the man scream at his companion, likely blaming her for making a scene, right before he pulled back a fist and let it fly into her face. He was so out of control, he continued his assault even through the threat of police. “He just punched her in the face,” Gerri reported. “He started the car.”

Gerri heard sirens in the near distance. “I think your cops are gonna make it,” she said into the phone. And then she glanced in the direction of her departing vehicle, saw Andy driving, Sonja sitting in the front seat with eyes very wide and BJ in the back, her hands pressed over her face. They cleared the parking lot seconds before the police vehicle came flashing around the corner. The abusive man was too busy screaming and hitting the woman to get out of there. His rage had slowed him down.

The valet came out with a couple of waiters and Gerri pointed at them. “Stay back,” she said. “The police are here and won’t know who’s who. Stay back.”

Gerri stepped into the parking lot under the lights and flagged the police car, moving her hand in a circular motion, pointing. They stopped in front of her and with the phone still pressed to her ear, she indicated the car with the couple in it. It was too dark inside the car to see exactly what was happening, but the couple appeared to be still.

The squad car blocked the suspect’s car and the officer got out, brandishing his weapon, his flashlight propped on top of the gun and shining it into the suspect’s car. “Please step back into the restaurant, ma’am,” he said. “Right now.”

She backed away quickly. It hadn’t for one second crossed her mind that the man could be armed, but it should have. Domestic disputes like this were frequently accompanied by panicked shots fired, people killed or wounded. She grabbed the sleeve of the valet, realizing the boy was about Jed’s age, and pulled him and his reinforcements back against the restaurant door, out of the parking lot lights, into the darkness. But she didn’t go inside because she was too invested in the situation. She wanted to watch as this asshole was apprehended. It took only seconds for the next cop car to make the parking lot, lights and siren flashing. He blocked the exit.

“I should’a stopped him,” the young valet said.

“The best thing you can do now is give the police a report,” Gerri said.

And almost immediately the abuser got out of the car, hands in the air, protesting loudly. “What?” he yelled. “What? I’m just trying to take my girl
home!
”

The police had him on his knees in seconds, cuffed and rendered helpless for the time being. The woman, however, remained in the car, sheathed in darkness.

Gerri stepped out of the doorway. “You better check the victim. He beat her,” she called out.

“
She
hit
me!
” the cuffed man shouted back.

“She didn’t,” Gerri said calmly, clearly.

The police officer took charge. “Ma’am! I want you to stay back!” And like a good girl, she skittered back to the restaurant.

Ah, yes,
she thought. She knew very well the police had procedures and wouldn’t take risks. They brought the victim out of the car at gunpoint, as well, and when she exited the vehicle Gerri could see her nose was bleeding. At least they didn’t cuff her, though they did pat her down. It wasn’t unheard of for a battered woman to pull a gun on police and rescue her abuser—it was a complex and often irrational syndrome. But the young woman came out, hands up, crying, bleeding, and the second officer took her to the back of his vehicle.

Two more squad cars appeared, though the officers let the original two handle their suspects, standing by if needed. Gerri listened in fascination while the young man argued in a whimpering tone about never having hit, never having raised his voice, they were just having a discussion when she struck him and he merely defended himself.

Within ten minutes the young man and woman were seated in the backs of separate patrol cars, the restaurant manager was outside and patrons were pouring into the parking lot to see what was happening. It took Gerri less than fifteen minutes to give her statement to the police. Because there was an injury, paramedics were called but the victim was released to drive herself home or to the hospital because she refused medical treatment.

“Can you please give her this,” Gerri said, passing a business card to a patrol officer. It had the number on it for victims of domestic abuse. She had no confidence whatsoever that the young woman would seek help, but at the very least her abuser was going to spend a night in jail. Gerri knew it was highly likely he would be picked up by his victim at daylight—such was the typical scenario.

“Any chance you have time to give a witness a lift home?” she asked one of the superfluous cops. “If not, I can get myself a cab. I sent the party I was with home in my car while I stayed to give a statement.”

In just an hour from start to finish, Gerri was being dropped off in front of her house. When she walked in, Phil was sitting in the family room and he stood and approached her. “Got in the thick of it, did you?” he asked.

“Well, what else could I do?” she replied, dropping her purse on the sofa. “I guess Andy told you what was happening?”

“I got the bare facts,” he said. “They’re waiting outside on the deck.”

“Waiting?”

“For the debrief, I assume. And at least one of your girls is shaken up.”

Gerri glanced out the window. “Yeah, that would be BJ, who Jessie’s babysitting for. She kind of panicked at my getting involved.”

“She must not know you all that well. I gave her a glass of wine. Then I left them the bottle.”

“But you didn’t sit out there with them? You’re usually a lot friendlier than that.”

“I’m keeping a low profile until I’m officially received in the neighborhood again,” he said, smiling.

“You want to take off?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Think I’ll get in line for the end of the story. If it’s all the same to you.”

“It wasn’t that big a deal, Phil,” she said. “I saw an ugly argument in the parking lot, had a hunch where it was headed, then saw him get physical while I had the dispatcher on the line. I had to wait around for all that to be taken care of, that’s all.”

“He hurt her?” Phil asked, frowning.

“Gave her a bloody nose and whacked her head on the roof of the car.”

Phil winced and shook his head. “Scumbag.”

“She refused medical and left in his car. She’ll probably beat him to the jail to try to spring him.”

He tilted his head toward their deck. “Take care of your girls out there. I’ll hide in the office till it’s all clear.”

“Really, you don’t have to—”

“I want to wait for you, Gerri. That okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s absolutely okay.” Then she headed for the deck.

Her friends had a candle lit on the outside table and they were completely silent until she sat down. “Everything is all right,” she said. “The police arrived seconds after you left and took him away. I don’t know how much you saw—”

“He hit her,” Sonja said. “I didn’t want to leave until I saw you throw yourself on him and beat him senseless with your purse.”

Gerri chuckled. “He was a little on the huge side. You okay?”

“Me?” Sonja asked. “Peaceful as a river. BJ’s pretty unstable right now, though. I offered her one of my pills, but she decided on wine.”

“You okay, BJ?” Gerri asked.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to get all weird on you like that. I have one or two real mean bastards in my personal history. I think I might’ve had a flashback or something.”

“I wondered.”

“I wanted you to do what you did, but, Gerri...” She paused and swallowed. “You know how it’ll end up, don’t you?”

“Unfortunately I know the statistics. But I’m relentless. Know why? Every once in a while I get a case that works out. We get the kids and the woman out of there and they actually break loose. Like you obviously did.”

“Yeah, but the price can be—”

“I know, kid. I know.” Gerri ran her fingers through her short hair. “It just kills me when they’re so young. I don’t know how old he was but she was twenty-five. And so beautiful. They’re not married, how about that? It’s a boyfriend. We didn’t have a conversation, but if I know anything, he’s not the first boyfriend who’s treated her like an animal. Listen, here’s how it is—if she doesn’t leave him, he’s going to beat her again no matter what I do. If he’s locked up, she has a window of opportunity to get away, though the odds are she won’t take it. I’m pretty well educated on these issues and I understand how it happens, especially if the woman was raised on abuse. But I still can’t figure out how they never seem to get to a point when it’s enough. I mean, she’s stunning. There must be a hundred good men who’d love to love her. It’s baffling.”