THIRTY-SEVEN

Janie opened her eyes and groused. The acoustical tiles over her head, the smells of antiseptic, and the institutional green walls came into fuzzed view. In the distance, a faint female voice called out. “Dr. Olson to Ortho. Dr. Olson to Ortho.”

She flopped one arm over her eyes. “Not again.”

Melody sat on the hospital bed and wiped her mother’s brow. “My sentiments exactly.”

Janie peeked out of one eyelid. Blake stood next to his wife, his arms crossed, feet straddled.

“Don’t scold me, Blake.”

“I have half a mind to.”

She rose, but a stab of sharp pain zapped her strength. “Oh, my head and neck.” She slumped back into her pillow and let the sounds, odors, and faces fade away again.

An hour later she awoke to find Blake and Melody still at her side. She gave them a small smile, about all she could muster at the moment. “Am I allowed water?”

“Yes. The doctor says you’ll be fine. But your neck is strained. Which is why they have it immobilized. Oh, and your ankle is sprained again as well. I hope you still have that knee crutch thing.”

She pushed her chin down and lowered her eyes to try and view the cloth and foam circle that encircled her neck, but felt woozy in the attempt. Melody pumped the automatic bed’s headrest and placed the bendable straw near her lips. Janie drank in a few sucks of refreshing cool liquid, letting it cascade down her throat. “Better, thanks.”

The scrape of chair legs across linoleum caught her attention. She leaned to the right to view Blake pulling up to her side. He sat, his face now more level with hers. “Ready to talk?”

She blinked. “Yes. How’s Mitch?”

“In surgery. Bullet lodged near his spine.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, dear.”

Blake squeezed her shoulder. “What possessed you to follow him?”

She shifted her head as much as possible, ignoring the pain. “I went to confront Jon...” she stopped and gulped.

He nodded. “I’m sorry, Janie. None of us knew, though Hornsby suspected.”

Melody wiped a lock from Janie’s brow. “Oh, Mom. He seemed like such a nice man.”

She took in a deep breath. “Seemed a little too nice. I should’ve known. Anyway, George discovered that Les Holden had been involved in the robbery that injured Mitch. I was livid. How could Gates do that to him, putting him on the I.A investigation?”

Blake let a huge sigh out through his nostrils. “I imagine Gates thought Hornsby would be more likely to skim over stuff rather than relive it.”

Janie reached for his arm. “You knew? Of course you did.”

“I questioned Gates about his reasoning. Even offered to postpone our vacation.” He rubbed his wife’s back. “I know, dear. Sorry.”

She huffed. “We’ll discuss that one later.”

Janie pressed her lips together.

Blake raised his eyebrows. “I figured as much.” He shifted in his chair and tugged his collar from his neck. “Anyway, Gates insisted I go on vacation because the police therapist recommended it. Now I understand why he really said that. He wanted me out of the way.” He snickered. “He’s the one who should’ve known better. Mitch is a true professional.”

“Poor guy. I don’t understand how Jonathan got involved.” Tears threatened.

Melody interrupted. “Blake, let’s do this later. Mom needs to rest.”

“No!” Janie’s voice bounced off the walls. Another pain shot through her temple, and she regretted her reaction.

A nurse dashed in. “Are you all right, Mrs. Manson?”

Janie waved a hand. “Fine, fine. A pain pill might help, though.”

The nurse glanced at her watch. “In another hour. Until then, keep calm.” She shot a teacher’s frown at Blake and Melody, and left the room.

Melody raised an eyebrow. “See?”

Blake rose. “Yep, I do. Janie, do as she says. You rest up. I’m going to check on Mitch’s progress. Be back in a few hours.”

~*~

Janie dozed on and off, partially lulled by the pain medication the nurse finally brought. But each time she drifted off, her mind replayed the events in the shack. She still had a hard time wrapping her brain around Jonathan’s flip from police chief to criminal. And who had Arnie been? She gathered he now lay on a slab in the morgue. She cocked open one eye. “Mel. I really have some questions for Blake.”

Melody hushed her. “Let’s talk of mundane things instead. I’ll tell you what we did at the beach.”

Janie appreciated her daughter’s insistence to relax, but until she got answers, how could she try?

A little after five that evening, Blake returned, hands shoved into his pockets. Janie sat up slurping the last of her grape juice through a straw. Remnants of mashed potatoes, meatloaf, and peas lay on the plate.

“Hmmm. Exactly what they’re serving in the cafeteria.”

Melody scrunched her nose. “Darn. And I felt hungry.”

Blake embraced her and pecked her forehead. “Go, hon. I’m sure they have a Cobb salad or something. “

She gave him and her mother a lopsided grin. “You two behave.”

Blake saluted, and Janie chuckled. They both watched her exit.

“I knew she’d calm down.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re in the clear, yet.” Janie switched her focus to Blake’s face. “Well?” She waggled her finger. “And don’t parrot back, ‘deep subject’. That joke is as tired as I feel at the moment.”

“I could come back in the morning.” He jokingly half spun to leave the room.

“Get back here, Blake Johnson. Read me in on the details.”

He sat down. “Where to begin? Arnie Jacobson and Joe Balantini were academy buddies with Mitch. The three of them out-shined everyone else, but they also got into a lot of shenanigans. Mild pranks, cockiness, that sort of thing. Someone with an abundance of stupidity placed them in the same precinct, number six, in Houston. That only increased the camaraderie and high jinks. They became known as the Threes Sixes. A jab, referencing the Biblical connotation for their devilish doings.”

Her eyes widened. “Threes and sixes.”

“Right. That’s what clued both Mitch and I in on the possibility they were involved in a vendetta against Holden. Mitch had shared some of their rookie stories with me. Since everyone knew them as the Three Sixes, it became a sign between them.”

“So you added two and two, or should I say threes and sixes, and came up with them as the suspects.” Janie flashed him a smirk.

“Well, yes. That and your description of the hooded man. Fit Joe to a T.”

“And Arnie had sandy hair.”

“Correct. Once we figured the hooded man was Joe, the Grayson plain-clothed cop Amos depicted with dark blond hair had to have been Arnie. We began to put two and two together as soon as Mitch returned. He figured they acted on a skewed sense of loyalty and hoped he could get them to confess it to him, but neither would return his calls. Now we know why Joe never did. Poor chump.”

“Are you saying they set Holden up to do the robberies?”

“Uh, huh. Then nailed him.”

“Execution style. The third bullet. Joe fired it, not Phil.”

Blake smiled and tapped her forehead. “Those brain cells of yours didn’t get scrambled after all.”

“So, the hooded man, Joe, was the other cop we saw. But why kill Wellington? Or was that suicide?”

“No, definitely murder. “

“I thought so as well. Somehow it just didn’t fit that the poor kid would do it.”

“Exactly. Besides, we check those cells pretty thoroughly to make sure there are no objects that could become potential death instruments. Pat down the prisoners as well. Amos is too thorough a cop to slip up like that, no matter what the circumstances. The mysterious ace bandage, which had no record of being applied at the hospital, didn’t jibe either. Someone had to have brought it into the jail in hopes we’d think it came from Wellington’s treatment in Mercy Memorial.”

“I see.” Janie’s eyes became brighter. “But of course it didn’t. They only use white ones, not the flesh colored ones. I remember that now from all those years I volunteered there.”

“Now how did you know what color Wellington…? Never mind. I don’t want to know.” Blake let out a sigh. “Besides, Amos identified Arnie as the supposed officer who arrived at the jail. That pretty much tied it up with a bow. We believe Arnie mis-aimed in the woods so he only got Wellington in the leg. He pretended to be a Grayson cop. Flashed his badge, but Amos couldn’t really see it in the dark. He figured Arnie told the truth about who he said he was.”

“But, I don’t understand why Arnie wanted to tag along.”

“At first he didn’t. He wanted to drag Wellington back to Grayson and probably planned on eliminating him on the way, but Amos insisted it be Alamoville’s collar. That left Arnie no choice.”

“Because they arrested him on your turf.”

“Right. Amos figures Arnie overheard them grousing about the jail situation...”

Janie held up her hand. “Wait. What situation?”

“Never mind.” Blake shook his head. “Not important. We suspect Arnie may have drugged Amos so he could slip in and kill Wellington. Of course we have no proof since Amos admits to being overtired. But Amos is a good cop. I honestly can’t see him nodding off on the job, and how would Arnie know he would unless he did drug him?”

“Hmm. There is still one thing I don’t get, Blake. Why did Arnie think he needed to kill Wellington?”

“I imagine Arnie worried the kid would freak out once arrested and squeal.”

“And expose them. Next, Arnie kills Joe because he thought he’d finger him and Jonathan in order to plea bargain?”

Blake shrugged. “We’ll never truly know, but it seems logical. Before he moved to Austin and went on beat, Jonathan knew the Three Sixes in Houston. He’s not saying, but Mitch figures he was the mastermind. Mitch knew Joe and Arnie, and quite frankly didn’t figure either of them had the smarts to think all of this up.”

Janie played with the fringe of her hospital blanket. Her voice lowered. “Gates snapped, didn’t he?”

Blake rocked back. “Yeah. It happens. He’d seen too much over his career in Austin. Moved to Alamoville to what he hoped would be a cushy job until he retired in a few years. After Mitch was taken down, and the glitch in the arrest sequence acquitted Holden, Jonathan took the law into his own hands. He plotted it all out and rallied the other two in the get-even game.”

“Was it Joe in the river or in the burned-out car?”

“Forensics has identified the victim in the car with his dental records. A Desert Storm Vet with severe PTSD. One of the many homeless ones who never got over the price of serving our country.”

Janie closed her eyes and slowly nodded. “So sad. The Three Sixes have thrown their last dice. Game over.” She thought back to her dream of the three men in ninja black by Westwood Creek. The symbolism gave her the shivers. Arnie had threatened to kill her like the one who put a knife to her neck. Gates had snatched her almost teenage-like idea of romance, thus the ice cream cone. But Joe abducting her cat? Oh well, maybe it didn’t all fit nicely. Even so, in both incidences there had been three bad guys after all.

For a moment, the room stilled. Then Janie sighed. “Joe’s the floater, then.”

Blake sat more erect. “According to Jonathon, he thinks Arnie killed Joe because Joe screwed up. He went rogue when he shot Holden. Their plan was to catch him burglarizing, and this time, make the arrest stick.”

Janie sighed. “So, who did Mitch meet in the alley?”

“I read the notes in Mitch’s phone. Arnie slithered into a charity shelter where he’d been laying low as a bum on Austin’s streets. Thought he’d stay invisible I guess.”

“Hmm. There are plenty of them there.”

“Yeah. A homeless man, who’s been an informant for us and the APD lots of times got a glimpse of a matchbook message Arnie had and thought someone should know about it. The dude thought it was a drug deal. Turned out to be the meeting instructions between Arnie and Gates.”

“What a snake.”

Blake swallowed hard. “Jonathan says he was going to try and persuade Arnie to turn himself in for the murders of Wellington, Joe, and another homeless man in Austin. Then you and Mitch showed up.”

“Oh, right. Who’s going to believe that one?”

Blake scoffed. “That’s the song he’s singing. He discovered the two were plotting it all out and began his own investigation. Trying to save Mitch grief and protect two of his blue brothers.”

“Will they believe him?”

Blake smiled. “Well, there’s one glitch. Jonathan withdrew thirty thousand from his pension fund. He claims he was going to invest it.”

“Of course.” Janie rolled her eyes.

“We discovered he began withdrawing bits and pieces out of his bank account via electronic deposit. We’ve yet to find what happened to those funds. The Feds have resources we don’t, though.”

“Are we positive it went to Arnie and Joe?”

“Not definitively. Arnie had some cash sewn into the lining of his pants. When we subtract that from the amount he mailed to his wife along with divorce papers, it adds up to almost half the amount Gates withdrew. The rest probably went to Arnie’s bookies. He had a weakness for that sort of thing. Bottom line, Arnie planned to disappear with both his and Joe’s cut.”

“Thanks for telling me, Blake. You’re a good man.” She reached over and squeezed his forearm.

He leaned in. “Janie, I should throw the book at you. Impeding an investigation is a serious thing.”

She waggled her finger. “Jonathan commissioned me, remember?”

Blake sat back and folded his arms over his chest. “Yeah, and wooed you as well. With my permission, I might add.”

She arched one eyebrow. “Really? He asked your permission? The ol’ charmer.”

“All to control you and keep you out of the way.”

“He didn’t know me very well.”

Blake grinned. “Guess not.”