The Euthanist (5 page)

Elbows are a girl’s best friend, because the whole body goes into every blow. When Leland covered his throat, his face opened up as a target, and my elbow caught him on the cheek. He reeled back into the shower, cracked the tiles and smeared a little blood on the ceramic. I landed a couple more heavy elbows to his head. When he tried to prop himself up on the tiles, he lost his footing. Backing into the shower stall, his leather sole slipped on the porcelain and Leland collapsed, knees over the tub rim, feet in the air.

I dropped to my knees and used my fists. When Leland threw up his forearms to protect his ears, I got inside and belted his solar plexus. He wheezed, but I didn’t debilitate him. An hour ago this guy’s body seemed like it could snap like a biscuit, but now his arms rigidly braced over his face. I always knew I was winning in a scrap when my opponent’s arms started to get lazy. This guy was a rock. I pounded harder because I could feel how his muscles coiled. Like Ali against the ropes when Foreman was laying into him, he took the punishment and waited for his chance to spring back when I stopped. A disorienting high surged through me, and I stopped thinking about where to place my punches and started whaling on him. Trying to get to his face, most of my punches landed on his arms.

I should have used my legs. Such a dummy, getting down on the floor with him. With legs hanging over the sides of the tub, I could have driven a heel into his shins. Knocked out the knees. It would have been so easy. But I got carried away, fueled by a numbing heat, which made me forget the pain in my right wrist as I brought down both fists with equal abandon. I kept battering, and he just waited until I punched myself out.

The moment I gasped for breath, Leland came alive. One of his hands dropped. He pulled something out of his pocket roughly the size of a small vibrator, not much larger than a lipstick tube. I owned one of these in pink and kept it in my nightstand drawer. In the moment, I thought Leland Mumm might be attacking me with sex toy. He snaked it under my arm, then sprayed me in the face. A moment later, the most intense pain of my life burned my eyes blind.

Pepper spray doesn’t necessarily paralyze the victim. On the contrary. With my sockets searing, I went wild. My arms and legs swung like medieval flails. Unsure of where to aim, I flagellated my limbs in all directions. Guttural screams punctuated the movements. Instead of disabling me, the pain only stirred me up. I kicked a dent in the plaster and bashed the sink out of the wall, so it sagged on the pipes. Somewhere in the maelstrom, a distinctive crunch told me I’d crushed the hypodermic under my heel.

Leland had the advantage, and he found a way to evade my punches and kicks. I felt his body maneuver around me, and his arm slithered around my neck from behind. He threw a sleeper hold on me and dragged me back to the bed, my heels sliding on the floor. I thrashed my legs and toppled the bedside chair, but that didn’t help me. The handcuff found its way back around my wrist. It hurt more this time when the steel cut against my bones. I scratched some skin with my free hand, but it didn’t stop Leland. Seconds later a cuff closed over the other wrist. I lay flat on the mattress again, now with both of my wrists lashed to the bedposts. All I could do was scream in protest.

Sometime between a half hour and an hour later, my eyes registered blurs, the most prominent being a smear shaped like Leland’s face. Hovering over the headboard, my legs couldn’t get him. Then he started with the water. He poured water over my eyes and dabbed them with a towel. I thought the prick was waterboarding me and bucked as much as the chains would allow.

“Hold still,” he said. “This will make the pain go away faster.”

One might think that this kind of pain would limit my ability to speak, but despite the panic, I was able to curse just fine. Someone walking through the front door might have thought they stumbled across an exorcism.

Diligently, Leland Mumm poured the water over me, talking me through it as he went. “I know, it’s the worst. I’ve gotten sprayed three times. Once I nailed myself while making an arrest. I was just starting out. I pointed the thing the wrong way and blasted myself in the face. Can you believe that?” Initially, the water made the pain even worse, like vinegar in a wound, and I writhed in response. “Second time, we were in the same kind of situation, trying to hold down a guy hopped up on PCP, back when PCP was still a thing. My own partner missed the guy and got me.” He softened. “Open your eyes to let the water in.”

I shook my face and moved every part of my body that I could. The bed bounced on its teak frame.

He waited for me to calm down, and then went on. “Third time was plain trickery. I washed out the canister, and the steam carried some of the vapors into my face. It got in deeper, the way the cold can creep in under your clothes.”

I fought the towel, but he found a way to dab my face.

“Kali, hold still. Open your eyes to let the water in.” More water drizzled over my face. Some snorted up my nose. “Have you ever taken chemistry class?” He asked.

I responded my howling into his face like a crazy person.

Without raising his voice, he said, “I know you can hear me, and I know you can respond. Have you ever taken a chemistry class? Kali.” He stressed
Kali
.

I articulated for the first time since he sprayed me, and my voice croaked from all the screaming. “Yes. I’ve taken a chemistry class.”

“Remember the water fountain? The one you use to flush out your eyes? That’s what this is like. I’m flushing out your eyes. You need to open them. It will make the pain go away faster. I promise.” Opening my eyes was a challenge, but I did it. The water eventually helped. Eventually, the piercing sting faded to a dull soreness, no more painful than dry eyes after an all-nighter. The skin around them smarted like a mild sunburn.

He picked the chair off the floor and returned to his seat. “You’re a dangerous woman, no doubt about it.” I squinted, and some of the excess water and tears drained out. Slowly, he came into focus.

“Stops you in your tracks, doesn’t it? Nice belly ring, by the way.” My dress had torn, and my navel was exposed.

He laughed heartily and patted down his body, especially a few inches left of his navel, where I’d stuck him with the needle. “You almost gave me my own belly button piercing.” Now that our tussle was over, he seemed gleeful. “You got me good. I have to hand it to you.
Jesus
!” He prodded around his ribcage where I’d landed some of my deepest punches. “Do you realize how phenomenally
fucked
you are right now? You just assaulted an officer.”

“Show me your badge.”

“Fair enough.” He opened a closet door and found a suit jacket that matched his trousers. From the inside pocket, he pulled out a gold shield and flopped it close to my face. In the time afforded me, I could read the words “Alameda County,” and the number “5417.” It looked real enough. The moisture drained from my tongue.

“You’ve never been arrested, have you? Probably never been stopped.” I didn’t reply, but he guessed the answer. “Lucky duck. Don’t worry, I’ll guide you through every step of the way.”

Having just traded blows, I was less afraid of him. “If this is an arrest, why am I still here?”

“Technically, I haven’t arrested you yet. I’m detaining you right now.” He retrieved the copy of
The Peaceful End
and thumbed through it in his chair. He breathed deeply as he settled into his seat and cracked the cover. “I’m not sure what to do with you yet.”

Chapter 3

The sun passed to the western side of the house. The living room dimmed until Leland turned on the overhead so he could continue reading his book. He hadn’t said much to me except to occasionally offer me water. I refused, and my tongue had toughened to hide. I thought about asking for a lawyer, but I didn’t have a lawyer to call.

“This book is handy. Even has illustrations,” he said. “You ever try using the helium tank?” It wasn’t a good idea to say anything about my work. But when Leland Mumm was a client, we talked about different methods I could use—different options for him. He remembered. “That’s right, you didn’t recommend it. I can see why. Look at these photos. Dying with a bag over your head? It’s like going out dressed as the Unknown Comic. You know that guy? He was on ‘The Gong Show.’ A comic that dressed up with a bag over his—you know what? It’s not important.”

“I’ve seen ‘The Gong Show.’”

“Must have seen it on reruns. Too young to see it on broadcast, that’s for sure. Probably watched it with one of your folks. More of a guy show, so probably your dad?” He studied my reaction until he determined he’d guessed correctly. “You must love your dad. Putting up with bad reruns just so you could sit with him.”

This felt like it was never going to end. “Why are you holding me captive?”

“Captive? What do you think is happening here? I’m detaining a mass murderer.”

“I don’t believe you’re a cop,” I said. I’m not sure what I believed. I’d seen that badge—he might have been law enforcement. I was just being contrary. It took some will for me to say this, not to mention some physical effort since my mouth was dry. I was essentially daring him to book me. A police station would mark the end of my free life. I didn’t want that to come any sooner, but if Leland wasn’t planning on arresting me, he was planning something worse.

“I guess that’s the beauty of me being where I am and you being where you are. I don’t need you to trust me. But I am a cop, and you are in deep shit.”

His cell phone jangled. Leland picked up and listened. He didn’t take his eyes off me this time. He scribbled in the margins of the book. Something ignited his face. The call ended in less than a minute.

“Pamela Wonnacott.”

Leland had just spoken my name. If my insides were a room, all the paint would have melted down the walls. I didn’t know how to react.

“Pamela Wonnacott,” he read off his sheet of paper. “The miracle of mobile, baby. Found your gym and messaged your headshot over. The general manager knew you in a blink. He says you’re there every morning. One thing you don’t have to worry about in prison will be your access to free weights.”

From the notes in the book he then read off my street address in Bernal Heights and my social security number. He was dead on for both of them. “Born in 1984. Five ten. I’d have guessed you were six feet, but it’s probably the boots and the broad shoulders. Eyes…
green
.” He looked at me intently from across the room. “How about that? I don’t see those very often. I thought you were wearing contacts. Now let’s seen…hair
brown
. I would amend that—brown…
sometimes
. Right?”

I felt like such a jagoff for wearing that purple wig.

“Everyone can be found out, Kali.” I was properly horrified, which was exactly what he wanted. “So let’s pull the walls down and get to the studs.” He sipped his water. “Pamela. You don’t look like a Pamela. Wonnacott. What the hell kind of name is that? Sounds like you’re a pilgrim.”

I puked. I didn’t have much in me, but whatever I had dumped out over the mattress. The acrid smell burned in the back of my nose. Leland rolled his eyes and threw me another towel. With effort, I angled my arms
just so
to wipe my mouth. “You’ll be even more dehydrated after that, and you can bet your ass we’re going to be here a while.”

By his feet he kept a second water glass, the one he kept offering me all afternoon. “You want it?” Reluctantly, I nodded this time. That dull ache behind my right eye throbbed that much more passionately from the dehydration. He walked behind the headboard and slowly fed me the water. I finished the glass, and he wiped my mouth with a clean corner of the towel.

“What do you think your folks will think of this?” he asked. “I’m going to call them, you know. They’ll be the first people we talk to.” This must have worked on the born-yesterdays.

“Good luck getting a hold of them,” I said.

He read my face. “Your dad really is dead, then? Mom too?” My lack of response confirmed it. “Mom too. I’m sorry for your loss.”

He refilled the water glass in the kitchen and came back to me. “More?” I didn’t refuse, and he poured the water slowly into my mouth.

“What did your father do? Mr. Wonnacott. I’m going to find out anyway.”

My will was crumbling. Since he already had my name and my social, it wouldn’t take much to find out details about my parents. Still, this eased out of me unexpectedly. “He was a musician.”

“Trombone?” He loved messing with me, as a client and then a cop.

“He scored movies.”

“Like John Williams. There’s good money in that, right?” I nodded hesitantly. “Any movies I would have heard of?” He mopped up the water that ran down my cheeks.

“Depends how much you get out.” He would have heard of a lot of the movies my dad worked on.

“So, you’re a rich kid.”

I started to wonder if this was a kidnapping and he wanted ransom. “Do you want money?”

Leland scoffed, “If you’ve got money, why did you take mine?”

“So you wouldn’t be insulted when I refused.” My mouth started to feel moist again. “I’m not a fucking assassin.”