Objects in the Rearview Mirror Part XV

Edna Portis was the one piece of information we had been missing. The one key piece that made all the others fall into line. It didn't take long to put an address to Edna Portis and the family that survived her brutal murder. It took a little longer to see how she connected to Andrew Grassley, though. We were driving to the address we were given on the outskirts of Des Moines before we found out how the two knew each other. According to one of the detectives Edna had at her disposal, Andrew Grassley was living with Ms. Portis at the time of her death. Apparently, he was a foster child who had just been placed with Portis and her two kids. Portis was a teacher in her late thirties who had not married, so that when she died, the child placed with her was sent back into the system, and it had not been kind to young Mr. Grassley. Portis's sister moved in and took care of Portis’ biological children. The family still lived there. So us and a patrol car were on the way there to secure the house and question the family. Because this night had not been all the fun I had wanted.
"That's all well and good," Edna said after she shut her cell phone. "We know how he's connected to the original killings. If he's not at that house, then none of this shit matters."
"If he's not there, then he has been. There's no way he goes through all this and doesn't visit the house or talk to someone there." I said quietly. "This is a lead. A solid lead."
We'd taken the county road back toward the city and just before we hit Southridge Mall and it's ever-dimming lights, we swung right onto Indianola Ave. Out here there's a lot of space between houses, which makes for a lot of privacy. Which can be really bad in situations like this, so we took it slow. It felt like it took twenty minutes for us to get to the house and it was only a block and a couple houses in.
Pulling up to the house, everything looked normal. It was a nice home. One of those white two-story numbers you picture when you think of living in the country. Nice sized porch and big windows in the front to let in all the light that isn't being blocked out by the mammoth apartment buildings that aren't just across the street. Big yard with the kind of grass you can picture kids running and falling and rolling around in, even if it was underneath a light coat of snow right now. This place even had a big shade tree with a tire swing, I kid you not. How could anything bad ever happen here? I could feel this place lulling me into a pleasant sleepy haze. Which is why people move out here, I suppose.
We were just getting out of the car when we saw the patrol car pull in behind us and I prayed it was no one who'd seen me spouting off earlier that night. And then I took a deep breath--that was just hours ago. Before the officers even got out of their car, Edna started giving orders. "Troop, you stay with him," she said pointing to the one of the officers. "You," pointing at the other, "you're with us." She quickly turned back toward the house and it was all business.
"You want me to watch the back?" the young officer asked.
"No. We stick together. [Gumshoe], I do the talking, okay?"
I gave her a nod. She found the doorbell with her finger and gave it a polite, but urgent ring. And we sat. "No one's home?" The young officer said after a couple minutes.
"It's late. They might be heavy sleepers." I said as I pushed the button for a good minute. Maybe a minute and a half. It was late, I hadn’t been sleeping all that much of late, and I was really starting to feel cranky.
"Alright, already," Edna said slapping my finger off the button. "We want them happy and talkative."
Looking at my watch, I yawned and turned away from the door. "No one's happy and talkative this late at night." I looked out at the country night. We weren't so far from the city, hell there's a gas station at the end of the block, but it felt like night was heavier out here. Thicker somehow. Denser, maybe. Like it would take a stronger light to shine on the activities out here. Or maybe I was just tired.
It was then I noticed James and the other officer. James was pointing at something across the street. I followed his finger into the Elm Grove Cemetery. I walked off the porch and over to them. "What's up?"
James spoke up. "I saw someone run into the grave yard."
"Was it him?" I said feeling the adrenaline hit me again.
"I--" He wasn't sure. I could see it in the contortions of his face. He wanted to be sure, but he wasn't.
"Could it have been him?" I said not waiting for him to get his answer together.
"I think so."
By this time Edna and the other cop was there with us. "What?" Edna said with that edge in her voice.
"James saw someone run into the graveyard. Could've been Grassley." I said.
"Of course. He would run into a fucking graveyard." She pulled her gun and her flashlight. "You two stay here and call it in. You two," meaning myself and the officer who had been on the porch, "we're going to have a peak."
As we crossed over Indianola Ave. and into the graveyard, I felt some relief to see that this was a small cemetery and with the fresh snow on the ground, we could see the tracks of anyone who came in. It only took a second for us to see that someone had jumped the low fence and had made their way up the hill. I pulled my gun and lit my flashlight as I felt the dim streetlights already fading as I pulled myself over the fence.
We followed the tracks slowly and spread out. There was no way to see what was coming as we made our way around the tombstones and up the incline. We were crouched and ready, fully understanding that Grassley could be waiting there for us at any moment. I took a deep breath trying to keep myself calm and collected.
I saw the movement ahead before I saw the gun blast. A great flash of light lit up the night for a second before the deafening eruption. I told myself to dive, but not quickly enough. Luckily the shot hit the tombstone in front of me. Unluckily, it sprayed rock up at me, cutting my cheek and neck as I finally dove. I could feel the blood beginning to seep from my wounds. I pulled a dirty tissue from my pocket and pressed it over what felt like the biggest wound. I sat there for what may have been an eternity before I realized I was not dying right then.
"Not dead." I whispered to myself trying to get myself to focus. The shot had come from ahead on the right. The officer and Edna had been closer to him. So either he didn't see them, or he really wanted me dead. Which didn't make me feel really good, but that's how it looked.
I took a deep breath, not sure what I was doing this for, but I yelled, "You missed me Andrew." He was quiet. I took another breath hoping he wasn't too patient. "What's that? 8 bullets you've missed me with tonight?"
I could hear footsteps moving through the snow, but I couldn't make out exactly where they were coming from. I pressed my back against the tombstone and made sure the safety was off on my gun. "Bullets are expensive, Andrew? You sure I'm worth it?"
"It only takes one." It came out as a hiss, but it was enough. He'd circled counter clockwise heading away from the others and toward me. Couldn't be more than a row ahead. I pushed my feet underneath me and turned, charging to my left. Into my third step, I saw him stand and raise his gun at me. The dramatic thing would've been to jump in the air. Hurtle my body at him, maybe yelling, 'nooo', like you see in all those movies. Of course he probably would have shot the holy living shit out of me.
So, as I saw his gun raise toward my head, something from little league flicked on and I was suddenly sliding. His first shot went over my head and as he was adjusting to me, I kicked my right leg and popped up just enough to punch him right in the crotch. Hard. Yes, it’s a faux-pas to punch a guy in the crotch, but I was hoping no one would tell Ms. Manners.
He doubled over and sucked in the cold night air and dropped his gun. I scrambled to my feet and grabbed him by the arm, bending it behind him and using my other arm to hold him to me in a half-nelson. He wriggled and kicked and grunted, but I had him.
The others were to us in a less than a second and in another second, Andrew Grassley was in handcuffs. It was over and I caught the guy. Wow. Didn't I feel so much better?
***********
In the downtown station, I sat with Edna as she was typing up her report. I'd finished giving my statement. It had taken a long time to recount the whole night again. She stopped and looked up at me.
"Yes?" I said hoarsely.
"So?" She said. I shrugged at her. "You punched him in the crotch."
I smiled a big smile. First smile I'd had in a long time. "I did."
"That's not really sporting is it?"
"I'm all for a fair fight, but....you know..." God, I wish I could be glib.
She smiled and chuckled. "Still quick on your feet, I see."
"I got it where it counts," I said.
"You need a ride home?"
"Nah. I called Clarence a while ago. He's sending someone." There was a silence. "Do you think we ever stop paying?"
"For then?"
I nodded with a weariness that came from more than the night's troubles and the all of the things I'd seen on this case. I felt the weariness of years suddenly sitting on my shoulders.
"No." She said quietly. "Not when there's someone who is still hurt."
I nodded at her and we sat quietly. It was a comforting quiet. The kind that exists like a third person in the room. Calming and easy. I took a deep breath and let it out, enjoying the fact that someone wanted me dead, but I still drew breath.
"Where did you go anyway?"
"Then?"
"Yeah. When you left the force back then?" Her voice was quiet, but firm. It was full of curiosity and concern, I think.
"Chicago."
"What's in Chicago?"
"Not much when I went." I sat up in my chair, suddenly realizing I should tell this right. "It was just gonna be a weekend, I think. I was gonna clear my head and come back. But there I was in Chicago and I didn’t have much reason to stay, but I realized I had nothing to go back to Des Moines for."
"Me?" She paused. "Not like that, but partners. You know, that meant a lot to me."
"Yeah. But I'd shot that to shit. I should've done it all differently."
"Yeah." We sat for a while longer.
"So, why'd you stay in Chicago?"
Well, that's another story...