Hot Flash (13 page)

The lab was empty and dark except for a few desk lamps left on and the lights in Cap's office at the far end of the room. There were no windows in the lab since we were in the basement. The only light was artificial. I allowed the desk lamps to light my way, not wanting to bear the harshness of the overhead fluorescents. I set my bag on my desk and started toward Cap's office, then I noticed that Laughton's desk was cleaned off—none of the usual mounds of bullets, gun parts, and guns decorating it. Never before in seventeen years.

The top half of Cap's office door was glass, so I could see him hunched over his desk in intense concentration as I approached. When I knocked and went in, he quickly closed the file he was examining and shoved it into his side drawer.

“Sit down.”

I obeyed.

“You know, your partner quit this morning.”

I popped back up. “What do you mean, quit?”

“He handed in his badge and gun.”

I squeaked out, “Laughton?” I paced and circled the room.

“You have another partner? Yes, Laughton!”

“Okay, so you're telling me that Laughton just walked in and gave you his gun and badge without any explanation.”

“That's what I'm telling you. Sit down, damn it, you're making me dizzy. He said he had some other business and it was time to call it quits here.”

“Yeah, right. I just talked to him, and he didn't happen to mention that he had quit. He was . . .” I hesitated. I didn't want to tell Cap that Laughton was drunk when I last talked to him.

“I'll hold off from putting in his papers for a few days, until you have a chance to talk to him. And you're going to have to check in with Parker to get back on schedule. We got too many cases pending. The commissioner has his fist rammed up my ass.”

“Okay, okay, I got it. But listen, Cap, Reecey is in some kind of trouble. She's disappeared, her and John.” I pulled the note she wrote me from my pocket and handed it to him. “She sent this to me, but it doesn't make a helluva lot of sense.”

I told him about the trip to Boston—the run-in with an unknown assailant, John's dismissive attitude, and the black SUV that had tailed us. I ended with the phone call I'd received from the twins. When I finished talking, Cap looked like he was having a hot flash himself, sweat dripping down the sides of his flushed face.

“If you weren't like my own daughter . . . You got a week, Mabley. Find Nareece and take care of your nieces. I'll get Parker to partner up with Johnson and Huy. Now get outta here.”

“Thanks, Cap.” Before I closed the door, Cap squawked, “And keep me posted.”

My desk was covered from edge to edge with casework, except for a carved-out space where my computer sat. I got into my computer and entered Marcy and Wade Taylor's names. They both had records for drugs and weapons charges, though neither had served any time. They both had been free from the law for the last twelve years. Married in 2007. No children. They had legal custody of Wade's daughter's daughter. No previous marriages for Wade. One previous marriage for Marcy to Kelvin Boone. Kelvin Boone, son of Richard “The Pistol” Boone. Brother, Jesse Boone. My fingers tingled as I pressed the computer keys.

No Laughton McNair listed anywhere.

I sat in front of Laughton's apartment without any memory of driving there—always a scary thought to have been on the road driving for miles and not realize the journey had happened until after the fact. The bell went unanswered, so I tried the doorknob. The door pushed open, the lock broken. I pulled my gun and went inside. The place was empty except for trash strewn across the floor. A rancid odor of funk mixed with a hint of ammonia permeated the air and made me gag. I moved through, room by room, the same smell in each room. The closets and cabinets were cleared out.

Laughton's next-door neighbor said Laughton had moved out a week ago. Said three men came the night before and kicked the door in, which explained the broken lock. She called the police, but the men left before they arrived. She had no information about a forwarding address, but she pointed me to the landlord's unit around the corner. The landlord did not answer the door.

I sat in the car, numbed by all I thought I knew, or rather all I did not know, about Laughton. We had a permanent link, at least I thought we did, no matter what, when, where. It went that deep. “I just talked to him and he doesn't happen to mention he quit, never mind he moved,” I said out loud. I scanned my memory trying to recall something that would have led down this path to move Laughton off the reservation.

Then there was Marcy Taylor, whom he said he was once married to, but there was no record of that in the files. Ever since she committed suicide or got murdered, whichever, Laughton had been acting weird. I tried his cell again—no answer. I needed to find Laughton, but with no known next of kin or friends outside of the department and me that I knew of, I supposed I would have to wait for him to contact me. I returned to the hospital, so I would be there when Calvin woke up.

When I walked into Calvin's hospital room, he was engaged in a fit of laughter that had him coughing and choking and brought a nurse running to his bedside. His coconspirator was a beautiful young woman who shared his fine features and dusty brown curly hair. Her haircut, short to her head, intensified her gray-blue eyes.

“You must be Muriel,” she said, regaining control, but not quite. The expression on my face must have told her I did not appreciate being the butt of their laughter. “Oh no, please.” She came toward me with an outstretched hand. “I'm Shea, Calvin's little sister.” She gestured for me to take her place at Calvin's bedside. “Believe me, the good news is that you didn't arrive a few minutes earlier. You were definitely saved from the disgusting outputs that escaped my not-so-classy big brother. Reminds me of when we were kids—”

Calvin interrupted. “TMI. Put all my business out in the street, why don't you?” he scolded, but not really.

“I'm happy you're back,” I said. I leaned down to kiss him. He captured my arm and held me in place for a much longer kiss than I intended, especially with Little Sis at my back.

She cleared her throat and said, “Well, time for me to exit right.”

I gently pulled away.

“Don't stop on my account,” she said. “I'm leaving anyway. Unfortunately I didn't get away in time, before being assaulted, that is.” She laughed. “I have to get back to work. It is a pleasure to meet you.” She blew Calvin a kiss and left.

“I thought I'd lost you—” I said. He pulled me down and kissed me again, cutting off my words.

He let go and said, “I thought so, too. I decided to hang around because I had you to discover.” He kissed my hand.

“I am so sorry about this.”

“You don't have anything to be sorry about. It certainly wasn't your fault. I was driving. When I first woke up, I thought
you
were dead. I fell all out of the bed trying to get to someone to find out what happened to you. Almost killed myself for real,” he said, laughing lightly.

“So, when can you get outta here?”

“They don't keep you in the hospital for long anymore. Your eyes are open, you're out. I'm going home on Tuesday.”

We sat in silence for a good while, holding hands, letting the television fill in the spaces. For the first time in weeks, my shoulders released.

A nurse came in and gave Calvin more pills. Not long after, he went to sleep, but not before confirming I would return Tuesday to take him home.

Travis arrived home the same time I did. “Hey, Moms.”

When we walked in the entryway, I could smell the greenery. I looked closer—glassy eyes, simple smile. Visions of my perfect child disintegrated. And so they should have long ago. Silly mother. He started upstairs.

“Travis, are you high? No, let me rephrase. You're high.”

Still walking upstairs, he said, “I smoked a little weed, what's the big deal?”

“Boy, you must be losing your mind.”

He stopped halfway up the stairs and spun around to face me, looking down.

“What are you getting all bent out of shape about? It's not like I'm a drug addict or something.” He rolled his eyes and said, “God forbid.”

My whole body shook. “I'm a cop, for chrissakes. You're a cop's son.” The words made sense before they came out of my mouth. Then they sounded dumb, self-righteously dumb.

“Mom, please, give it a rest. I know all about being your son, and how I'm supposed to act. Cut me some slack, will ya?”

I knew if I started up those steps, I would lose total control and probably regret whatever actions resulted. Instead, I sucked in all the air I could hold into my lungs, let go, and said, “We need to talk. Now is not the best time, but before the night is done, once you sober up.”

He made an about-face and continued up the stairs.

Then Dulcey was at my door. How she did it always amazed me, but she always showed up at the right time with just what I needed. This time it was Caribbean food and Gewurztraminer wine. The wine was flowery. The perfume bouquet offset the jerk-seasoned food perfectly.

While we ate, I filled Dulcey in on my visit with Calvin and meeting his sister. “First time I let myself even consider growing old with someone.”

“Oh, please. You know you always wanted someone to grow old with. Don't know anyone who'd want to go there alone.” She sipped her wine. “Why you think I put up with Hamp's mess?”

“You love Hampton's dirty drawers, that's why.” We laughed to the depths that make you gasp for air and drive tears down your cheeks. I laughed; Dulcey cackled, her whole body shaking like she was having an epileptic fit. The commotion brought Travis downstairs, so he said. I knew he needed to satisfy the munchies. He and Dulcey hugged, then Travis made a plate and went back upstairs.