Twenty-Seven

There was a sharp knock on the door, making Dockery jump awake. He’d fallen asleep in his chair, the one he’d turned toward the door. He’d sent his girl and kid to visit her family. Didn’t want to take any chances with them, even though he knew shit all about what the hell was going down. Better safe than sorry, though. Like back in Folsom. Had to keep your head on a swivel in that place. You just never knew where a shiv might come from if someone declared your number up. There’d been guys who’d never done nothing to no one there, but ended up dead just the same. Then there were the others, like Eric, who’d come out more fucked up than when they went in. Not everyone in prison was a bad guy, even though the papers liked to write it that way.

Another knock at his door. Dockery pulled his gun out from between the chair pillow and arm. It felt like a real gun again, now that he’d gotten that fully loaded clip. Went to the door. Peered through the curtain. Saw an older-looking dude with silver hair standing there. By the cut of the suit, he could tell the fucker was a cop. But then again, what if it was the dude in the car? What if it was some sort of setup? His mind filled with conspiracy theories and hidden traps that only waited for him to step into and get killed. Another knock. Dockery pulled the hammer back on the gun, then reconsidered. Whatever this guy was going to do, he couldn’t do it outside, right there on the street …

Oberon stood outside of the frayed Victorian duplex. Checked to make sure he had the correct address. He did. It hadn’t taken long to run down Leon Dockery in the computers. Certainly not a model citizen, but society had bred way worse. Still, there was enough violence and repeat offending to make him unhook the catch that kept his sidearm safe in its little nest.

He hoped to get more from Dockery than he’d gotten from Jenks. There was something about Jenks that bothered him. Maybe it was the interchange between the man and his girlfriend. His gut told him it felt forced, like they were performing for him. Maybe it was the man’s personality, which he felt also rang false. Or, more likely, maybe he was beginning to be frustrated by the lack of leads. Frustration was bad, he knew, and could lead to poor decisions.

The door opened and a good-sized man stood there. Over six feet, with a heavy build. Knew instantly from the booking photo in Dockery’s file that this was the man he’d come to see. Wondered what fight he’d been in recently with that very swollen eye and big walnut on the side of his forehead. Sure looked like he got the worst of it.

“Mr. Dockery?” he said as he pulled out his badge. “My name is Detective Inspector Kane, Homicide.”

“Okay,” came the cold reply. “What can I do for you, Officer?” There was something about the way the man said it that put Oberon’s antenna on alert. Dockery was edgy. Nervous.

“May I come in? I’m looking for people who knew Carl Kaslowski and or Anthony Scarsdale. I’ve received some information that leads me to believe you might have known these gentlemen.”

“Kas is dead?” The shock was genuine, that was for sure. “What’s this about, man? I just found out about Tony from his moms. Happen to call her, looking for him.” Dockery stood back to let him in. The place was furnished from what looked like various second-hand stores. There was evidence of a child in the home. Dockery went and sat heavily in a overstuffed chair that faced the front door. Oberon stood in front of the fireplace mantel, his back to it as he pulled out his notebook.

“So you did know both men?” Oberon asked.

Dockery still seemed stunned by the news of Kaslowski’s death. “I can’t believe Carl is dead, too. How’d he die?”

“He was shot, like Scarsdale.”

“Same gun?”

“Why would you be interested in that, Mr. Dockery?”

A shrug. “I was just wondering, is all. If it was the same guy. That’s all, man.”

Oberon studied him for a moment. Seemed an honest answer. “It is, as they say, a definite possibility. What can you tell me about your time with these men?”

“I … I don’t know, man. It’s just a crazy coincidence, is all, right? That we were inside together, and …” He let his voice trail off then. Shook his head. The shock of Kaslowski’s death certainly had the ring of truth to it.

“Just a crazy coincidence?” Oberon replied. “Really? You really think that, Mr. Dockery?”

“Sure,” Dockery shrugged. “What else could it be?”

“So you knew both these men well?”

Dockery shuffled a bit in his chair. Another shrug.

“Why don’t you want to tell me about your time inside? I’ve already read your file. I’m just trying to solve a couple murders here. You know that Kaslowski was a new father? His child had—”

“Heck, man,” Dockery said, his voice getting an edge to it, “you know that guys don’t like talking about their time behind bars. You a cop. You know that.”

“Yes, I do know that. But I’m looking at a double homicide. Please don’t make me pull my leverage and turn this into something more unpleasant than it needs to be. You know how it goes. I have to visit anyone and everyone who has a history with the victims. We could of course talk downtown, if you prefer.”

Dockery sat there for a minute, seeming to get more and more nervous. Maybe it was the mention of going downtown. Repositioned himself in his chair, the weight of his hand pushing down on the cushion. Oberon caught the faint glint of metal. Knew what it was immediately, though he didn’t show it. There was no way he could get his weapon out before Dockery got to his. No way at all. A sense of quiet overcame him. Of calm. Everything slowed down. Ice-floe slow. He could feel every tick of the clock. Feel the very energy that lived in the house itself.

Oberon stared down at his notebook for a moment. Tapped the pen on the page as he angled his upper body to get his hand as near as possible to the holster hanging under his left arm. “Mr. Dockery,” he said quietly, “would you please stand up and away from the chair?”

Dockery’s expression was one of surrender. Shoulders sagged. Brought his hands up as he stood. Eyes had gone opaque. Oberon pulled his Glock from its holster and trained it on him. “Step away from the chair and toward me, please,” he said.

“That gun’s for my defense, man,” Dockery said as he complied with Oberon’s command. “I’m being followed. From what you tell me, it might be something to do with Carl and Tony gettin’ killed.”

“Turn around.”

Dockery did as he was told and Oberon pulled out his cuffs. Went to slap one around Dockery’s left wrist, intending to pull that arm down without having to holster his weapon. He’d done it that way hundreds of times.

This time it went wrong.

As he reached up for Dockery’s wrist, the man—who outweighed him by a good forty pounds—spun around, elbow coming around in an arc that caught him right on his cheekbone. He cursed as he dropped the cuffs and started to fall backward, off balance. Dockery seemed possessed, moving with the speed of a tiger. Maybe he was supercharged with fear at going back into the system. Dockery chopped him on the right forearm and the gun dropped from his nerveless hand. He was then smashed in the face with a huge fist that sent him flying backward into the mantel. His skull crashed into the carved hardwood, sending off a blast of sharp pain and fireworks. Fell hard to the floor, barely able to make out Dockery as the man pulled the gun from his chair. He then kicked Oberon’s pistol under the couch, grabbed up a coat, and bolted out of the apartment through the front door.

Oberon got to his feet. Ripped his cell out of his pocket and called in what had just happened. Alerted dispatch to his situation as he dug under the couch to retrieve his weapon, cursing at the wasted precious seconds. Ran out the front door and down to the street. Dockery was nowhere in sight. Figuring the man would run to the nearer end of the block, Oberon bolted to his car and leapt inside, gunning the engine. Tore off in a howl of burning rubber down the street. Brought the car to a screeching halt in the intersection. Her glanced up and down both streets, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

Dockery was gone.