River

Saying goodbye to Angel was harder than I thought it would be. After a night of christening every room in my house and a few sacred hours of spooning, I watched her board her plane, taking a piece of my heart with her.

It’s absurd that I’m so attached to her after only a week, but like my grandma used to say, when you know, you know.

Now, I’m going back to my off-season practices and family dinners without her, and it feels wrong.

If it weren’t for the pre-season training camps and games that start soon, I’d be in the seat next to her on that plane headed to New York.

I stopped on my way home from the airport to check on Dad. He was in the shed out back, dragging out the lawnmower. He thought he’d be sneaky and start while Mom was at the grocery store, but I caught him and she scolded him when she got home.

He said I’m no son of his for ratting him out. I told him I probably saved his life, and we sat on the patio and had a beer.

They went to the hospital today to see David. Mom told Dad what I knew about the abuse. They wanted to tell David that they believe he got what he deserved.

The police questioned them while they were there. They asked if they knew anybody who would want to hurt their son.

Mom said she almost laughed but thought it would make her look like a bad mother. She said they didn’t know of anyone in particular.

They asked where his wife and children were, and Mom lied again and said they had been out of the country and were on their way home.

The officers told Dad that they plan on doing several interviews. That news made me nervous. I didn’t lay a finger on my brother, but I didn’t stop the people who did from taking him either, making me guilty by association.

The only ones who could put me at Mo’s with David last week are the whores I paid to get David to come outside. They’re only a couple of hits of meth shy of reliable, so I highly doubt anyone will listen to them.

David could talk, but I doubt it. He values his pathetic life, and if he hasn’t said anything by now, he’s not planning on it.

And then there is Angel.

If she put two and two together, she might realize that my dark mood and desperate need to see her directly correlated with the day David disappeared.

Not to mention, my major slip-up about the bikers yesterday.

In the future, I’m going to have to watch what I say concerning David. I can’t afford another slip-up, and I don’t want to inadvertently involve Angel or anyone else in this mess.

It’s a blessing in disguise that Angel is preoccupied with her trip to the Big Apple. It’ll keep her mind off things going on here, and unfortunately, it will also keep her mind off me.

I wish I had something that would keep me from thinking about Angel.

I’m in bed, and it’s only nine o’clock. Usually, I’d hit a few balls at the driving range with the guys or stop at one of my favorite neighborhood bars for a drink and a hookup, but not tonight. Not ever again.

So here I lie, in my California king-sized bed, watching television and smelling the lingering scent of sex and Angel’s perfume on my sheets. This shit should be bottled and sold. It would make me a zillionaire.

My phone buzzes as I’m dozing off to sleep, and I answer without looking to see who it is, assuming that it’s Angel calling to tell me she made it all right.

It’s not.

“Is this Mr. Kelly?” a man asks, and I sit up, pulling up my knees and propping my arms on them.

“Yes.”

“This is Detective Monroe with the San Francisco PD. I have a few questions to ask you concerning your brother, David’s, recent attack.”

“Sure, Officer, what can I do for you?”

“Can you tell me where you were you last week on Thursday afternoon?”

“Last Thursday?”

“Yes, the day of your brother’s attack.”

“My girlfriend spent the night, and we left the house around noon. I dropped her off at her place and went to my afternoon practice until about three. I stopped to pick up my dry cleaning and grab a bite to eat at the deli on Tenth Avenue, and then I picked my girlfriend up at the dance studio where she works, and we went home.”

“Where did you say you picked up your dry cleaning?”

“I didn’t say, and is there any particular reason you’re asking?”

“We are just trying to account for everyone’s whereabouts that day. It’s all part of the investigation.”

“My dry cleaner is on Maple Street. It’s called Martino’s. Julio Martino owns the place, and he handed me my shirts.”

“And the name of the deli?”

“Parker’s, right down the street from Martino’s. I didn’t talk to anyone there, though. But the girl behind the counter will probably remember seeing me.”

“Do you have any bad blood with your brother, Mr. Kelly?”

“David’s not my favorite person, if that’s what you’re getting at. I would never beat him up, though.”

“Have you seen or heard from his wife and kids over the past three months?”

“No, actually, I just went over to his house last week and spoke to their neighbor, Millie. You should talk to her. She knows everything that happens on that block. She told me Misty left with the kids on a trip, and she hadn’t seen David in a few weeks either.”

“Millie, does she have a last name?”

“Yeah, Chestnut, but all you need to do is show up, and I’m sure she’ll be more than willing to chat with you. She sits on her porch all day, people watching.”

“I’ll check into that. Is it normal for your sister-in-law to leave the country with the kids for extended periods of time?”

“No. You might want to talk to David about her vacation plans, though. I think he might have an idea why she left.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, if I were married to David, I’d need a vacation far away from him once in a while too.”

I don’t want to draw attention to their terrible marriage. Misty has been a victim long enough, and the police might interpret her leaving the country as a motive for attempted murder.

“Does he have any enemies?”

“Probably. I don’t run with his crowd, though, so I wouldn’t know anyone specific.”

He sighs, and I hear papers being shuffled around in the background.

“All right, that’s all I have for now. I appreciate your time. Oh, how is your brother, by the way? I hear he woke up yesterday.”

“I don’t know. My dad had a scare last night, and we were in the ER with him.”

“Oh, I hope everything is okay.”

“Yes, just some chest pain, but he’s fine.”

“So he went home? And you didn’t take a minute to stop and see how your brother was doing?”

I don’t say anything right away. I don’t like his insinuation.

“Detective Monroe, I’m going to be honest. I don’t have much of a relationship with David. We are two completely different people, so no, I didn’t visit him. I didn’t have anything to say, and my brother-in-law told me he was stable.”

“Ah yes, the paramedic. Mark, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

I don’t like how familiar he is with my family.

“I spoke to him earlier today. Nice guy.”

“Yes, he is. We’re good friends.”

“I see. Well, I’ll let you get back to your evening. Thank you again for answering my questions. We may have more in the future depending on what path this investigation takes. I’ve got your number. I’ll let you know.”

I see? What the hell does that mean? And what kind of path is his investigation going to take?

I look at the digital clock and see that it’s eleven thirty.

“Sounds good. You’re working kind late tonight, aren’t you, Detective?”

“Gotta close this case. Sorry if I disturbed you and your girlfriend.”

I don’t tell him that my girlfriend is on the other side of the country. If he’s such a good detective, he should already know that.

“Goodnight, Detective.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Kelly.”

I toss my phone into the bed and take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. I wasn’t at all comfortable with that conversation, especially the part where I lied about my whereabouts. I never went to the dry cleaners or the deli that day, but I’m pretty sure Julio and Kim will vouch for me. Julio and I have been buddies for ten years, and Kim from the deli has had a crush on me for months.

I need to get ahold of my agent and my personal assistant. If the media gets ahold of this story, it’s going to be chaos. I’m going to need some help keeping it under wraps. The fewer people who know my brother got his ass kicked, the better.

Even meth head whores have access to television.