was an accident. That he was drunk and on some kind of drug, and
he fell off the balcony through no one's fault but his own."
Looking at her, I began to notice that she had the kind
of beauty that wore off as you got closer. It was kind of like an Impressionist
painting. I also smelled a brand of perfume that probably cost a fortune, but
only served to irritate my nose and make me want to sneeze.
"You're being pretty tough on Robbie. He was no
angel, but I think there may be a little more here than meets the eye."
"Robbie was a crazy kid," Norman said. "I
tried to help him but he didn't want my help. And at this point, Robbie is gone
and there's nothing more we can do to help him."
"Except bring a possible killer to justice."
"Mr. Burnside," Ashley broke in, "we just
want to get on with our lives and put this behind us. This was a terrible thing
to have happen, but it's over. And the police have made their decision. They're
not investigating any longer. They think it's an accident."
I drew in a breath and my mind conjured up an image from
about two years ago. It was the image of a seasoned officer with thirteen years
on the beat, all of them performed to the best of his abilities. He always went
by the book and was a staunch defender of the system, not to mention the status
quo. And when they asked for his gun and his badge for a crime he didn't commit
and couldn't acquit himself of, everything he had once held dear began to
crumble. Even when they returned it to him, his attitude was forever altered.
He re-built his life to be sure, but he was no longer the staunch defender. He
was a changed man. The memory of it stung and caused me to wince.
"Does everyone in your family believe Robbie's
death was an accident?" I asked softly.
Norman and Ashley glanced hesitantly at one another.
"My father still thinks there was foul play," he said.
"Why?"
"Mr. Freeman sometimes has trouble accepting life's
... inevitability," Ashley said.
"Dad is stubborn. He can't just deal with it. He
needs someone to blame. He's not the kind of guy who can let go."
I rubbed my eyes. "I understand what you two are
saying. I think you're wrong. I think there's some things unexplained. But if
you want to discharge me, that's your business."
"We appreciate it," Norman said, and the two
of them rose and left my office quietly.
I lifted my feet onto the credenza behind my desk, and
looked out onto the street. Robbie Freeman's brother had hired me to look into
some trouble he thought Robbie was in. I learned Robbie had experimented with
some drugs, and he associated with a few unsavory types which his older brother
might not approve. Nothing dangerous or life threatening in that, certainly.
But I had only started to scratch the surface of the kid’s involvement. There
was something else lurking beneath the surface, a dynamic I could only sense
intuitively at this point.
My thoughts drifted back to the party. If Robbie was
able to pick Lenny up and help drag him into another room, how could he have
been so unstable as to stumble over a balcony railing? He wasn't depressed and
on that night he seemed in fine form. He joked, he laughed, and more
importantly he was making sure everyone else was having a good time. Suicide
could easily be ruled out. But somehow, someone had provided Robbie with help
in reaching the edge of that balcony. Yet everyone at the party had been
accounted for.
On the street below, Norman Freeman opened the passenger
door of a silver Acura ZDX that glowed in the sunlight. His fiancée sat down in
a prissy manner and he closed the door carefully. Skipping around the perimeter
of the car, he hurriedly climbed inside as if she might disappear if he dawdled
too long. The car pulled out onto Olympic Boulevard and glided away.
The space they vacated stayed open for all of thirty
seconds. A Ford pickup truck with a weather beaten paint job pulled in, and two
Latino day laborers got out and walked down the street towards Holly's
Learning to Kill: Stories