Watching The Detectives Ch. 06

--- CHAPTER SIX - WAKE UP CALL ---

September 1969

When Kat regained consciousness, in a daze, the phone was ringing. Petey had curled up beside her, his head on her forearm. After a moment, gathering her senses, she patted him. "Good boy." As she picked herself up the phone stopped ringing. She was grateful as she had a sharp headache as well as a throbbing nose. Kat staggered to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, mostly dry blood covered her mouth and cheeks, some was still moist.

'How long was I out?'

Her upper lip was cut and swollen. She touched her nose. "Ouch!" The flesh under her eyes had early signs of yellow.

'Oh shit, did he break my nose?' She looked at the clock, 7:18. 'What time was it? Was I out for an hour?'

She turned on the water and dampened a face cloth. As she was about to remove the blood from her face, she hesitated. 'No, I should keep that.' She looked down at her dress, a dress she loved. 'No blood?' Kat found a reason to smile. She went to the kitchen and dialed the Pittsburgh Police Department.

Kat walked through the house, upstairs and down. Raymond was gone. She sat and waited with Petey in her lap. Twenty minutes later, a pair of patrol officers sat at the dining room table taking her statement, only six sentences long, with Raymond's vitals added. As they were finishing, there was a knock on the door. It was another cop, Detective Leroy Smith, a man she knew from her days in criminal defense. Kat liked Detective Smith. She suspected he was not fond of her. Years ago, Kat embarrassed him on the witness stand casting doubt on his testimony. Her client was acquitted.

Kat offered Smith and another detective chairs at the table.

"This is my partner, Jerry Newsome," Smith gestured toward his tall, lean sidekick.

Newsome nodded as he took a seat. Kat tried to play host.

"Can I offer you gentlemen a drink? I mean, like lemonade, not a drink-drink."

The younger patrolman nodded. Smith leered at him.

"Let me get you a drink, dear. Anyone else?"

"Sure, lemonade sounds good," said Smith. "While you're in the kitchen Miss Price, go ahead and wash your face. You look like you got hit by a truck."

The second patrol officer raised his hand. Newsome nodded.

"Okay, make that four lemonades," she smiled.

"And Miss Price," Smith pointed at his face. "Maybe you should let us take you to the hospital. You may have a broken nose."

"I might go," Kat nodded. "I can drive myself. And by the way, Detective, it's Mrs Landry, but you can call me Kat."

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

"No, don't apologize. Tonight, I wish I was still Miss Price."

Kat slipped into the bathroom, washed away the blood, and then went to the kitchen. While she was away, she listened as the senior patrol officer read Detective Smith the statement she had just given. When she returned with four glasses and a pitcher of lemonade, Kat made light of her terrible night.

"I suppose it's good that I was on my back after Raymond clocked me. The blood ran down my cheeks and not on my dress. I just bought this, and I love it."

The men smiled awkwardly.

"May I ask why you're here... detectives on a simple domestic call?"

"It's not so simple," said Smith. "Your husband is sitting in lockup. After he didn't ruin your dress, he barged into the office of Art Casey, a former colleague of ours. They had words. He then confronted another ex-cop, William Barnes, in the back parking lot. They exchanged more than words. When patrol arrived, your husband was staggering, trying to stay on his feet, egging Barnes on."

Kat rolled her eyes. "He's such a stubborn jackass."

Smith continued. "When the patrolmen intervened, he took a swing at them, so they subdued and arrested him."

"And Mr. Barnes?"

"Barely a dent. He's an accomplished boxer. I have forty pounds on Barnes and I wouldn't mess with him. He played a tune on your husband's face."

Kat sighed. "What now?"

"Well," Smith chuckled, "you and your husband won't be a handsome couple for a while. You should probably go see him."

"What the hell for?"

"He needs to be bailed out."

"Pfft, he's got one call, let him dial his attorney."

Smith and Newsome took possession of the notes written by the patrolman and asked a few questions of their own. They wanted to know the connection between Kat, Raymond, and the private detectives. She gave them the very basics on Raymond's hired hands. As they were leaving, Kat stopped Smith on the front porch.

"Detective Smith, I hope you don't hold our previous business against me."

"Ah, so you remember me," The detective looked at his feet.

"Why wouldn't I?"

Smith shrugged. "I was hoping you wouldn't."

"Why?"

"That wasn't my finest hour and it's not something I want to be remembered for."

"I'm sorry, Detective."

"Don't be. You played a tune on me that day. I thought my testimony was solid until you punched holes in it."

"Yeah," Kat smiled. "That was a good day for me."

"I was angry and got drunk that night. After the verdict, I realized we hadn't proven the case."

"No, you didn't"

"You understand that kid was guilty, right?"

She smirked. "Not in the court of law."

Smith shook his head. "Lawyers."

"Thank you, detective." Kat offered her hand.

Smith accepted. "Call me Leroy. Are you sure you don't want a ride to the hospital?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"You should get some ice on that pretty face," he pointed at her and smiled as he stepped off the porch.

Raymond did not reach his attorney that evening, he was out of town, so Ray spent the night in a police lockup. He made bail the following afternoon. When he returned home, Kat and Petey were gone. She intentionally left smears of dry blood on the kitchen floor and nothing to indicate where she went; not that Ray would need a detective to figure that out.

******

When Glo answered her door and saw the state of Kat's face, her eyes turned into saucers. "What the hell? That fucking asshole!" She took a bag from Kat's hand and pulled her in. "What the hell happened?"

Kat said nothing. She walked in and set Petey down. Glo stared at her, waiting for her to say something. A long moment passed, friends looking at each other, Glo examining the injuries.

"Well," Glo finally broke the silence. "What happened?"

"I fucked up."

"Oh no!" Glo wagged a finger. "You're not blaming this on yourself. He's a fucking monster. You did nothing to deserve this."

"I need to stay here a while. Is that okay?"

"I'm offended that you're asking. Of course, you can stay," Glo hugged Kat. "For as long as you need."

"I could use a drink," Kat said.

"Beer or the hard stuff?"

"The hard stuff."

Over three whiskeys, Kat told Glo the events of the evening recalling every detail she could. Her story made Glo more angry and resentful of Raymond... if that was possible.

The morning after, as Gloria left for work, Kat peeked out the window of Glo's apartment, conditioned to believe she was being watched. She hadn't realized it before, but months of spying had taken a toll on her psyche. Everywhere Kat went, her head was on a swivel, looking right, left, and behind to locate the ex-cops; all summer long. It became normal.

'Damn, this is messing with my head. I can't do this anymore.'

.

.

---- PUBLIC DISPLAY ---

Two days after the assault, Kat dropped in at Kramer & Stein. The office girls were horrified at the sight of her, gashed open fat lip, a yellowish bruised nose, and dark blue circles under her eyes. She could have softened the blow with makeup. No. Kat wanted everyone to see the damage Raymond had done.

Kat filing for divorce would cause a dilemma for her old firm. This public display of her injuries was calculated. She wanted to torpedo any chance her friends at K&S would represent her battering husband. They would stand with her, and she'd repeat the beating she gave Raymond in his first divorce. When she stopped at Scott Panzek's office she had to calm him down. He wanted to find Ray and whip his ass.

"That's not necessary, Scott. Billy Barnes beat Ray's ass for you."

"Really? What the hell for?"

Kat gave Scott the sordid details of Ray beating her and then getting his ass kicked by Billy.

"I'm so sorry, Kat." Scott hugged her. "What's your next move?"

"I'm leaving Raymond, and I need a favor."

"Anything hon."

"When I represented his ex-wife, we had all the evidence we needed for Sandra's case. Ray had hired detectives to spy on her and then he assaulted the man he accused her of sleeping with. I want to dig deeper, to see if there's a history of violence."

"Do you believe he has a record?"

"During the divorce, Sandra made some offhand comments. She implied the assault on her friend was not Raymond's first fight. I need you to look into that."

"I can do that, but it'll take time. I'll need to know every place he's lived, where he was raised, went to college, his years in the military." Scott handed Kat a pad and pen.

She went to work, talking it out as she scribbled notes. "He was born here, graduated from Central Catholic in 1939, and started at Cornell in the fall. After Pearl Harbor, he left Cornell to join the Navy."

"Do you know where he served?"

"He was studying architecture so they put him in the Seabees. He island-hopped in the Pacific, building airstrips and bunkers. I know he was on Midway and Okinawa." Kat thought for a moment, "And Guam."

"That's a good start," Scott smiled. "Who says wives don't listen to their husbands?"

"Trust me, Raymond has war stories, and I don't doubt that he served well. He's proud of his service." Kat looked from her pad, finding Scott's eyes. "He lost close friends. I've met some of his war buddies. It was just one night, but I could feel their closeness."

Scott pointed at Kat's face. "Well, what he did to you has nothing to do with that."

"I know. I'm just saying." She returned to scribbling. "After the war, he followed a Navy nurse to San Francisco. He lived there through the summer of '46. He has many fond memories of his year in California. Then he returned to Cornell to finish his studies that fall."

"He's lived here ever since, right?"

"Yes." Kat handed him her list.

"I'll get to work on it. If you think of more, let me know."

Kat grabbed her handbag, hugged Scott, and started for the door. "One last thing," she said, "Have you gotten any info on that thing I called about, Penn Consulting LLC?"

"Nothing. You'll be the first to know when I do. Kat, be careful. Take care of yourself. If you need anything..."

"Thanks, Scotty."

"What's the deal with Barnes? Is he still following you?"

.

.

******

If there was one good outcome from Ray's knockout punch, it was the end of Kat's tails. There was no sign of Art or Billy. Her first week staying with Glo was uneventful. Kat returned home during her husband's workday to retrieve clothes and items she needed. She had no contact with Raymond. When the phone calls started during the second week Glo wouldn't allow Kat to take the phone.

"Fuck off, Ray. She doesn't want to speak to you."

It was only a matter of time before he'd show up at the apartment. When he did, Glo refused to open the door. Ray pounded, raised his voice, and made a commotion. He wasn't threatening. He was pathetically pleading.

Kat was embarrassed. "I should talk to him."

Glo cut her off at the door. "Fuck no, Kat!" she said loud enough for Ray to hear through the door. Then she whispered. "I see this behavior all the time, abusers in family court begging for a second chance. You cannot allow him to manipulate you with his bullshit regret."

In Glo's work downtown at the Allegheny County Courthouse, she'd seen too many cases of domestic abuse and the cycle of repeat offenders. Kat would have to go through her to see Raymond. Glo's neighbor, Jimmy, came out and told Ray to shut the fuck up. Fingers were pointed. There was a push and a shove, men testing each other.

Glo shouted through the door. "Jimmy! He's a cowardly wife-beater. Kick his ass! Ray, you've got thirty seconds to get to your car. If you don't, I'm calling the fucking cops."

After three weeks, Ray was calling almost daily. Glo simply hung up on him. When Kat answered, he recognized her voice and began hastily pleading about wanting to meet. She interrupted in a cold emotionless tone, "Raymond, stop calling me. I'm not coming back." Click.

On two occasions, Gloria saw Ray parked across the street when she got home from work. Kat was back to looking over her shoulder, this time for a sea green 1965 Cadillac coupe de Ville. She made a habit of only going out during his work hours, to run errands and visit her mom. Raymond never left his office during business hours unless it was to a job site.

Kat walked Petey early in the morning and very late at night, always worried her estranged husband might suddenly appear. She carried a rolling pin for self-defense. It was the only heavy item Glo had that Kat could wield.

"I feel like an asshole walking around with a rolling pin at midnight," Kat said while unclipping Petey's leash.

Glo smirked. "If we put your hair in curlers and give you in a big fluffy robe, no one's gonna fuck with you. You'll just be the crazy lady of North Oakland."

Kat tried to conceal her smile. "Sometimes I hate you."

A month into her stay, she began to worry that she and Petey had overstayed their welcome. Gloria was her rock and would never complain, but she and Kat were sharing a bed and Petey wasn't on his best behavior. Without his doggie door to go outside, he had accidents. Petey planted piles of poo on wall-to-wall carpeting and peed on the sofa. Kat was mortified, got on her hands and knees, and scrubbed.

Glo came home from work to find Kat sitting on the sofa. It appeared she'd been crying.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Glo sat beside her. "What did he do now?"

"It's not Raymond." Kat wiped her nose. "I've been looking in the classifieds for a place to stay."

"You don't have to do that."

"Yes, I do. This is going to ruin our friendship. Petey made a big mess while I was showering. Go look in the wastebasket."

Glo went to the kitchen. In the trash bin was a pile of feather stuffing and linen. She looked back at Kat.

"It's your pillow. He destroyed the bedroom"

"I'll get a new one."

"I need my job back. I've called Mr. Stein three times. I think he's avoiding me. I'm going to the office tomorrow."

"You know you can stay with me as long as you want."

Kat took Glo's hand. "I know, and I love you for helping me, but I've stayed as long as I want."

*****

During her time with Glo, probing into the Dwyer case was reduced to reading the fading documents in Detective Ron's case file. She had been through the file multiple times now. She knew the case front to back. It was like traveling in time. Reading statements from the principal players, police reports, newspaper clippings, and notes Ron had written kept Kat's head in 1955 while her life was spinning out of control in 1969.

On one page, 'Why is Hogan protecting Barnes?' was written in Ron's sloppy cursive. 'Why did the mayor get involved?' The list ended with, 'Does someone connected to City Hall have a secret?'

She would find no case-breaking details. Reading Ron's files time and again made the pictures in her mind crystal clear, but it answered no questions. Kat knew what had 'officially' happened, not the truth. She knew Ron's suspicions, but they couldn't be proven. She desperately wanted to talk to someone who knew about the case from the inside. Unfortunately, they were all gone and she trusted no one. She considered returning to Willock to speak with Ron again, but the thought of entering that trailer held her back.

It wasn't only the ink in Detective McDonald's case files that were fading. The Dwyer kidnapping was ancient history. No one cared anymore. Anyone with knowledge of the case felt old bones were better left buried. Victor Fonseca was in prison, the case closed, justice served and forgotten.

Kat waited for her injuries to heal before returning to K&S to inquire about returning to work. Her meeting with Mr. Stein didn't go as well as she had planned. Abe had been avoiding her because he didn't have the courage to inform Kat that her old position wasn't available. Maybe next spring was the best he could offer. After the meeting, she stopped by the house to pick up some personal items. Raymond had changed the locks.

'That son-of-a-bitch. This is my house too.'

It had been a rough morning. Kat needed food and a drink. As she drove through her neighborhood deciding on what to eat, she noticed a car directly behind her. Months of tails had honed her awareness. He had taken two turns with her. She didn't recognize the blue 1966 Ford Maverick or the man behind the wheel. It made her nervous, but she kept her cool. Besides, that little Ford was no match for her 455 Rocket.

Pulling into the lot of the Highland Cafe, a neighborhood bar Kat occasionally patronized for their tasty sandwiches, she watched the Maverick continue on. Inside the restaurant, she sat in a booth and ordered a roast beef sandwich, cole slaw, and a beer. The lunch rush was over and only a few day drinkers occupied barstools. Before her sandwich arrived, she felt a presence over her shoulder.

"Excuse me, are you Katherine Price?" A slight man with thinning brown hair startled her.

She caught her breath. "Yes, it's Landry now, but Price is fine. That's me."

"My name is Daniel Dwyer. I've been looking for you. Would it be possible for us to talk?"

"About what?" Kat furrowed her brow. "Do you drive a blue Maverick?"

"Yes. I'm Carol Anne Dwyer's uncle. My older brother Edward is her father."

Kat hoped her eyes didn't betray her astonishment. She was not expecting to hear from the Dwyer family. As far as she knew they were long gone and far away. There was an uncomfortable delay in Kat's response.

"Have a seat, Mr. Dwyer. What can I do for you?"

Dan Dwyer slowly sat on the bench across from Kat. He removed an envelope from his inside coat pocket. Kat was struck by the sadness in his eyes. He slid the envelope across the table.

"I received this letter from Detective Ron McDonald. Are you aware that he passed away?"

Kat picked up the envelope. "Yes, I just heard this morning. He was a good man." She peered inside the envelope. "Would you like me to read this?"

Dwyer nodded. Kat removed a two-page letter and began reading. She had seen enough of the detective's scrawl to know this wasn't his penmanship. Not. Even. Close.

"Do you know who Ron dictated this to?" Kat asked with her eyes on the document. "Because he didn't write it."

"I don't know. Why does it matter?"

Kat looked up from the letter. "Dictation would mean another person in town knows I'm digging into your niece's case, and I don't want that. How long have you had this?" She picked up the envelop and looked for the post mark date.

"Well, I've been looking for you for two weeks. So, at least two weeks ago."

She went back to reading as Dan watched her face. When she reached the end, she sniffed the paper.

"What's wrong?" Dan asked.

"I visited Ron's trailer. It didn't smell like this." She held the letter out for Dan to take a whiff.

"It smells like powder," he said.

"A woman knows you and I are having this conversation."

"How do you know it's a woman, and why do you care?"

"You can't see it? Look at all these extraneous curves and loops. It's girly writing." Kat looked up. "And this powder is a woman's product. How many people do you suppose she's mentioned this letter to?" Kat made a duh face. "Girls love to gossip."

Dan smiled for the first time. "Did you read the postscript?"

"Yeah," Kat nodded. "I'm smart and observant, and you can trust me."