Jerry Gaffney wasn’t happy about being trapped in a closet, but there was little choice in the one-bedroom apartment. He slipped inside and closed the sliding door most of the way, leaving only a small space open at the end.
He could hear her in a stage whisper. “Paul! What in the world are you doing here at this hour? It’s four-thirty.”
“Where the hell have you been?” the man’s voice said, much louder.
“Be quiet,” she whispered. “People are asleep.”
“You didn’t answer me. Where were you tonight?”
“Here, mostly. I was exhausted. It was so hot yesterday.”
“Bullshit!” he bellowed. “I called you over and over, like a dozen times. I left messages on your cell and on your regular phone. You obviously weren’t around to hear them.”
“When I go to sleep, I turn off my phones. That means I don’t want to be bothered.”
“That’s great, Sandy. That’s just fucking great. I wait most of the night for you to show up, and you don’t even have the decency to call me.”
“I never said I was going to your apartment last night. There was no reason to call to tell you I wasn’t coming, because there was no reason to think I was.”
“Look, Sandy.” He spoke with a quiet fury, slowly and plainly. “I was worried, so I started calling your friends.”
“You called my friends in the middle of the night?”
“People said they saw you in clubs at midnight, quarter to one, one-thirty. It sounded like everybody in town saw you at one club or another, so stop lying about it. You were out with a guy.”
She laughed, but it was a difficult thing to do well. “If you only knew.”
“I do. You told half the city his name. Joe Carver.”
“That is just so completely wrong. I can’t believe you called everybody and embarrassed me like that. I can’t believe anybody told you anything, and that you got it all wrong and put the most sickening interpretation on it. I’m so shocked. Just go home.”
From his closet, Jerry Gaffney heard her begin to close the door, but then there was a thump like the heel of a hand striking the door and the wood vibrating. “Don’t you shut the door in my face. Too much has happened for that.” As Paul talked, Jerry could hear that the voice was coming nearer, up the steps and into the apartment. When he spoke again, Paul was in the small living room just ten feet from the bedroom door. “Why didn’t you invite me in, Sandy? What’s different that you’d stand in the doorway to try to keep me out?”
“Nothing is different. I never would have wanted anybody to come banging on my door at this hour. I asked you to go, so do it.”
“Not yet.”
“I’m asking you to leave.” Jerry Gaffney could tell from the way her voice sounded that she had stepped in his way, blocking his entry into the bedroom. Jerry could have told her that it was the wrong way to keep him out.
Paul Herrenberg’s voice became a tortured bellow. “He’s here, isn’t he? You’ve got the guy in the bedroom with you. Carver! Come on out! Joe Carver!” His footsteps were heavy as he brushed past Sandy.
“What do you think you’re doing? You have no right to barge into my bedroom.”
“I want to meet Joe Carver, the guy who’s so much better than I am.” Herrenberg was pacing around in the bedroom now. Jerry could hear him walk to the bathroom and look in.
Jerry Gaffney was not a man who was reluctant to deliver a cheap, surprise punch, which was one reason he was listening intently to Paul Herrenberg’s location at every moment. But he had been in enough fights to know that he would be foolish to throw away any opportunity to avoid fighting, so he was listening even more intently for reassurance that Herrenberg wasn’t about to open the closet. So what he heard next was both unwelcome and welcome at once. Paul Herrenberg had been staring at Sandy Belknap’s sheets like a detective, and then he dropped to his hands and knees to look under the bed. If he was doing that, he would certainly get to Sandy’s closet next, but meanwhile, he could hardly be more vulnerable.
Jerry Gaffney slid the closet door open, delivered a top-of-the-foot kick to Paul Herrenberg’s face, belly-flopped onto his limp body, and dragged his arms behind him to close the handcuffs on his wrists.
“What the—”
“Don’t talk,” said Gaffney gruffly. Herrenberg was much bigger than Gaffney had anticipated, and he was already thinking that if the cuffs didn’t close in time, he was going to have to go for the gun. “I’m a police officer, and I’m going to—”
“You son of a—”
Jerry dazed him with a punch to the side of his head. “I asked you not to interrupt. You’re going to have two choices. You can cooperate completely, or you can act like an angry asshole. If you do that, you’re going to jail, and the trip will not be easy or pleasant. There are enough charges already to hold you.”
“You can’t just hit me like that. I’ve got a witness.”
“Yes, I can.” Gaffney punched the other side of his head, then grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head up as though he might slam Herrenberg’s face on the floor. He held it there for a long, tense moment, then released it. “Now. Do you want to get through this without anything turning ugly?”
Herrenberg seemed to think for a minute, then went limp. “Yes.”
“You just pushed your way into a lady’s apartment after she told you that you weren’t going to be allowed inside. That’s forcible entry. You pushed her aside to get in. That’s battery at least, and maybe even assault. Given the hour and the fact that you saw she isn’t wearing much, you might draw some class-one felony charges.”
“So what are you doing in her apartment?”
He grasped Herrenberg’s hair again and hissed into his ear, “I don’t have to tell you anything.” He released him. “But I will. I’m attempting to apprehend an armed robbery suspect named Joe Carver, who seems to be interested in Miss Belknap. That means that any single stupid thing you do or say is interfering with a felony investigation. It’s also harassing and threatening a brave citizen who has agreed to place herself in danger to act as bait.”
“Oh, shit,” Paul mumbled. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Now I want you to listen carefully, because what you say and do next is going to pretty much determine what the rest of your life will be like. If you’re going to be a hard guy, you might get off with ten years, which is only five served if you’re lucky. But you don’t strike me as lucky.”
“What do I have to do?”
“First, apologize to the lady.”
“I’m sorry, Sandy. I apologize.”
“Now apologize to me for obstructing justice and making me compromise an ongoing investigation.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry who?”
“I’m sorry, officer. Sir.”
His voice sounded so obsequious, so fearful and weak, that Gaffney looked up and saw that Sandy’s face held a look of distaste.
“Now I want you to get up. I will walk you to the door. Then I’ll take the handcuffs off. If you go silently and voluntarily, get in your car, and go away, we’ll forget about filing charges. If I, or some other officer, have to put the cuffs on you again, the charges come back, and we’ll do things the hard way.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll go.”
Gaffney took his arm, helped him up, and guided him to the door. He half-turned. “Sandy, I’ll call you later. Okay? Just to talk.”
She frowned. “Uh, I don’t think so, Paul. I don’t want to talk. If I ever do, I’ll call you.”
“But—”
Gaffney tightened his grip on Herrenberg’s arm to stop the circulation. “She’s being pretty clear. Don’t you think so?”