Not This Time
Chapter 31: Strange Bedfellows

Copyright© 2016 to Elder Road Books

“Angel, I need you to wake up. Come on, now. You aren’t hurt. You just fainted. Wake up, Angel of Mercy.” Somewhere in the distance behind Ernie’s voice I could hear sirens. Someone had at least called the police when the shooting started.

Shooting!

That woke me up. I could hear Ernie’s voice, so he was alive. He said I wasn’t hurt. That left ... I pushed myself up with Ernie’s help and my eyes tracked instantly to the two crumpled bodies on the sidewalk. The black Cadillac was gone. Ernie’s car was in the middle of the street. His gun lay next to it. Dragon’s gun was just visible, trapped beneath him.

“I need you to be able to tell the cops that I acted in self-defense,” Ernie said. “It’s important. They’ll believe you. Becci called them from my car. She’ll tell them, but she couldn’t see everything. You could. I have no idea who was driving Dragon’s car. I’m sure she’s long gone by now.”

“Ernie, I won’t lie for you,” I rasped.

“Do you doubt that you’d be dead now if I hadn’t acted?”

“No.”

“That’s all that’s necessary. Tell it like you saw it,” he sighed. “I’m not a killer, Angel. I’m just going to sit on the curb over there and wait. You’ll probably have to tell them what you were doing out here walking through a dangerous area by yourself after dark.”

“How did you know?”

“Becci spotted you and we circled around.”


Police arrived. Ernie was arrested. Dragon was dead, but he’d lasted long enough to put a round in his girl. I’d heard three shots. Police marked where I was when I fainted. Then there were lights brought in and yellow tape and plastic bags. More chalk. Photographs.

One shot hit the prostitute. One shot hit Dragon. Police found where the third shot had hit the pavement near where I’d fainted. Only one shot had been fired from Ernie’s gun. I had no idea what order the shots were fired in. Police asked repeatedly who shot first. I didn’t know. I was given permission to call home and Bruce came to pick me up. He had to park clear over by the clinic and walk to the scene, explaining to three different cops that he was there to pick me up. Neither he nor Lily questioned me when I got home. The children were asleep. They led me to a bath and gently washed me. They held me between them as I cried myself to sleep.


Dragon’s driver was apprehended just north of the Iowa state line. Becci was questioned and released, but Ernie’s car was impounded. Ernie had a good lawyer and was out pending further investigation. There would be an inquest and probably a grand jury.

The big question on everyone’s mind was why this ditsy woman—me—was wandering around in the park at night. I was eventually written off as an idiot do-gooder who thought she was invincible. Maybe that wasn’t such a far cry from the truth.

The investigation stretched through the winter. I was called before the Grand Jury and answered each question as honestly as I could with the memories I had of that night. Yes, I heard three gunshots. I saw Dragon lifting his gun toward me. No, I didn’t know who fired first. No, I didn’t see him kill the girl, I was already losing consciousness. No, I was not there to entice a showdown. Yes, I knew Ernie because our daughters went to school together. No, I had never seen him with a weapon before. And on and on. Why was I there? I was deep in thought about helping the neighborhood by installing new lighting in the park as we had done in Loring Neighborhood. No, I did not use drugs or make use of either the disposal units or the needle exchange program. Did I know Ernie was a pimp and that Becci was a prostitute? I had never seen either of them engaged in that activity and considered what the DA called common knowledge to be speculation—on advice of my attorney.

My testimony stretched out for three days. Everyone on the Grand Jury had questions for me and I only hoped that I’d been consistent in my answers.

I was conflicted.

My gut told me that Ernie was one of the things that was wrong with the community. Like Dragon—Eustis—he transported prostitutes to meet with their johns. I believed he pressured college coeds to turn tricks in exchange for his protection. I knew his white Lincoln cruised the park several times daily. But his daughter was a classmate of my daughter. Her mother was quickly becoming one of the people we saw on a regular basis. Every actual interaction I had with him was completely normal and neighborly.

Your honor, he couldn’t be a murderer. He’s such a nice guy. A good family man and never has a harsh word for anyone. I could just hear the family and friends of every mass murderer or shootist or bomber or rapist with those same words defending people you knew were the scum of the earth. You just knew it. Only you didn’t really know it.

I had to get something done, and by May, when the Grand Jury was dismissed without an indictment, I set to work changing the lighting in the park. I started with a door-to-door solicitation of the neighborhood. People had heard about the murders in the park and even some of the drug dealers were slow to return to it this spring. Everyone thought having more lights in the park was a good idea. I got the architect who drew up the plans for the Loring Neighborhood Park to draw up plans for the larger Washburn Park. The plans included opening up a few areas that had become overgrown with low brush between the stately trees. Those areas shielded spaces from being seen by the rest of the park. I took the plans to the Parks Board and in a surprising move, they approved them at the same meeting. I suppose it helped that I had an anonymous donation in hand to pay for it all.

Labor Day weekend, we turned on the lights and music in the park and held a celebration.

The key element in all this was to give the addicts, prostitutes, and dealers a sense of pride in their community park. Ernie helped. Throughout the summer, he had not just cruised the streets next to the park with his girls, he had walked through the park talking to the people who were there. By getting rid of Dragon, he had attained a sort of hero status. He played it down, but I had to admit that getting the new lighting approved for the park was as much because of him as it was my campaigning.


I felt pretty good about the progress we were making in that neighborhood. I still had some big ideas and I sat in my office working on a plan the next Monday with Charlotte and Robin playing together on the floor. I looked over at the two toddlers and watched as a tower of Legos came tumbling down.

 
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