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“911, what’s your emergency?” The male dispatcher’s voice was deep.
“I ... I just killed somebody.”
“Ma’am. Did you say you ‘just killed somebody’?”
Kate’s voice broke. “Yes.”
“What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Kate. My name ...” she sniffled and coughed. “... My name is Kate De Luca.”
“Okay, Kate. Where are you? What’s the address?”
“Um—I don’t—I don’t know. It’s a big house, brick. On Burr Street. It’s off of Minnehaha. It’s owned by Mrs.—ah’—Mrs. ...”
Kate squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Oh God. I can’t remember that old woman’s name.” She thought of the restaurant. “Mrs. Fortunato. That’s it. I don’t know the house number, I’m sorry. But Mrs. Fortunato. I’m in her house.”
“Okay. Are you on a cell phone, Kate?”
“Yes.”
“Is it yours?”
“I—yes.”
“Okay. Stay on the line with me, Kate. I’ve found the address and I’m sending a unit over there now. Do not leave your location. I repeat, do not leave your location. Do you understand me, Kate? I have officers on the way.”
Kate sniffled.
“Ma’am? Can you hear me? I need you to respond to me.”
“Yes, sorry. I can hear you.”
“Alright. Now, who did you just kill?”
“I ah’ ... oh God,” Kate cried. “I just killed him. I killed Eddie. Eddie Bracchio.” Her jagged voice choked as she gasped and sucked in air. “He lives here. Mrs.—ah’. Mrs. ...”
“Fortunato?”
“Yes, Fortunato.”
“Eddie lives here—lived here. In her house.”
Kate ran her hand through her knotted hair, feeling something wet and warm on her forehead near her hairline. She pulled back her hand to see a bright smear of red covering her fingers.
“She died. She’s dead, too.”
“She’s dead? Did you kill her, too? Mrs. Fortunato?”
“No,” Kate shouted, shaking her pounding head. “I didn’t kill her. Somebody else killed her. A drive-by... I ah’... ” She coughed and began crying into the phone. “I killed Eddie. Just Eddie.”
She considered confessing to Sal’s murder as well, but didn’t have the strength. That would be for a later time.
“Okay. Where is the body? Mr. Bracchio’s body?”
The sound of the word “body,” shook her. “Upstairs. He’s upstairs in his bedroom. I—I’m downstairs. In the kitchen.”
“And you’re sure he’s dead? Did you check for a pulse?”
“I checked. I—I didn’t find one. I’m sure he’s dead.”
“What happened, ma’am. How did you kill him?”
Kate sniffled. “I ah’—there was a fight. He punched me. And choked me. He tried to rape ... me.” Kate tightened her cracking voice. “I stabbed him. In the neck.” Kate whined as she relived it. “He had a gun. And I ah’—...” She sniffled and pushed her sweaty hair from her face. “He was gonna’—” Kate sobbed uncontrollably. “He was gonna’—”
A faint sound of sirens growing louder steered Kate’s focus from the 911 dispatcher.
“They’re here. I hear the siren. I gotta’ go.”
“Kate!”
Kate pushed the button on her cell and scrambled to her feet. She hurried from the kitchen, down the creaky old hallway, slipping as she turned at the foyer. She pulled open the heavy mahogany door, just as two St. Paul police officers climbed the front steps, one talking into a two-way radio on his shoulder. The man on the radio was a bulky white man, the other, a tall, thin white female.
On seeing Kate open the door, the officers drew their weapons. “Put your hands up,” the female officer yelled. “Now!”
Kate felt the blood drop to her feet as her vision spun. “Okay, okay,” she shouted, raising her arms. “I don’t have any weapons on me.” She braced her body for another assault.
“Are you the one who made the call about killing someone?” asked the female officer.
Kate no sooner nodded when they both approached her. The male officer slammed her against the closet door, her cheek taking the brunt of it. Pain split across her already pummeled face and head. The voices of the cops faded and, for a second, everything went black.
She heard one voice shouting near her left ear. “Stay with me. Shit.”
“Come on man! Take it easy!”
Kate felt a yank of her arms as they were pulled behind her back, causing a guttural moan to rush up from her stomach. Though she’d never in her life been cuffed, she knew that was what was happening. She felt the cuffs cutting into her wrists before a quick click locked them tight.
“You have the right to remain silent ... Anything ...” She barely heard the rest of it.
“Oh my God, that hurts. Please. Can you—”
The male officer began screaming at her. “Anybody else here? In the house? Upstairs?”
She shook her head.
“You sure?”
She nodded. “I’m sure. Just—”
“Just what?” asked the female officer.
“Eddie,” Kate said. “He’s upstairs. He’s the one I killed.”
“Okay,” said the male officer. He walked the hall and peeked into the living room. “We’re gonna’ put you in here for now.” He disappeared. Kate heard a click and the living room lit up. He walked back out and tipped his head in the direction of the living room.
The woman pulled on Kate’s arm. “In here. Come on.”
Kate felt the weight of her battle with Eddie press onto her shoulders. Her legs buckled under her as she was guided into the living room.
Eddie was upstairs. Dead.
She had trouble grasping the reality of it all. His dead body, the fight, his strength and speed. She felt herself falling.
“Whoa, whoa. Stay with me.”
She led Kate into the living room and sat her in one of the two chairs facing the picture window, the curtains still drawn from her earlier encounter there with Eddie.
“Where’s the body, ma’am? Which room upstairs?” asked the male officer.
“First room to the right at the top of the stairs,” she whispered.
“Who is it?”
“Eddie Bracchio.” Speaking was becoming too much for her.
He raised his brows and looked at the other officer.
“You killed Eddie Bracchio?”
She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. Her shoulders began to shake uncontrollably.
Another siren arrived.
“Ambulance. Send ‘em up,” said the male officer. He left the living room. The last thing Kate heard was his heavy footsteps climbing the stairs. Her head began to spin. The female officer spoke to her, but her words seemed garbled. Darkness swirled, first in her peripheral vision, but soon it was everywhere.
The silence that followed was a gift.
