An Incident Halfway to Hell
By Ian De Shils (Ernest Shields)

Chapter 10

On Friday morning Hoot's attitude made a hundred and eighty degree turn. All his wishful thinking was behind him and he drove to Bel Air in an ice-cold fury. Bypassing the garages, he parked in the delivery area near the service door and strode purposefully into the kitchen.

“Where is she, Sofia?”

“The morning room, Mr. Anders.” The woman replied. The look on Hoot's face scared her. The moment he left she reached for the intercom. When he arrived in the private dinning room, Melva sat at the table with the early edition spread out before her, her face paler than the bleached table linen. The headlines screamed,

“MARTINEZ TALKS: ANAHEIM MAN SOUGHT IN DESERT SLAYING.”

“You look like you've seen a ghost, Melva, or is it the fact that they're looking for your good friend, Manny Wilson?” Hoots voice was hard, his eyes as cold as ice. “I remember how cheerful you used to get when one of your ex-pals got mugged. I guess you never figured those little incidents could be traced back to you. News flash, Babe. When they find Wilson, you're headed for the slammer!”

“Hoot . . .”

“You know, what I can't understand is why you wanted him dead. Didn't you always like to send flowers and those pretty little get well cards? Well, he can't smell the posies now or read your trite homilies. You didn't need to kill him, Melva,--- hell,--- Case would have probably died laughing.”

“Honestly, Hoot, I didn't . . .”

“BULLSHIT!” He roared, “Why would your pal Wilson go after Case if you didn't order it?”

“But I talked to Manny, . . .” she responded. At that moment, Paul burst into the room, his face flushed from running.

“Melva! Shut the hell up!” Hoot glowered at him and Markey took a sudden step backward.

“When did you talk to Wilson?” Hoot demanded.

“On Monday,--- right after Paul told me Casey really did try to pay the advances. Vitto lied about everything. Honestly, I told Manny to leave Casey alone.”

“Looks like he didn't get the message! You know you might want polish up that story for the cops. Nobody but you had a reason to see Case hurt.”

“What about Vitto?” Paul said quietly.

“Shit!” Hoot responded, “All that money grubbing little bastard wanted was a skin flick!”

“Unless he has something else in mind.”

"And, what might that be, taking over Birchline? Without Melva the company is worthless!”

“Maybe so, but you have to admit he went to a lot of trouble setting up that dance hall confrontation. Both Melva and O'Brian were primed for a fight and he knew exactly how Melva would respond. Just think about it, there's no other explanation.” Paul told him. Hoot paused,--- a confused look cane across his face.

“But why kill Case? Martinez admitted it was a hit. Why would Vitto want Casey dead?”

“That, I haven't figured out yet. All I know is this was a setup to get Melva, and it sure as hell nailed her.” He looked at Melva and shook his head. “Murder isn't something I can smooth over, Babe. This is going to be bad.”

Melva buried her face in her hands and began to sob. The tears stopped Hoot's panther-like pacing. It was the first time he ever saw Melva cry,--- ever. Even as a kid she never cried, and Lord knows, in those days she had plenty to cry about. He hardened his heart to the tears. The past was over. There was no defense for what she did to Case,--- absolutely nothing.

“You'd better call the cops, . . .” Hoot was interrupted. Sofia rushed in with news.

“There's a crazy man on the phone demanding to talk to Mister Anders.”

Paul moved to the sideboard and pressed the speakerphone button. The man was yelling at the housekeeper,

“TELL HIM TO COME HOME NOW! He's got to come home!” Hoot grabbed the phone but couldn't get a word in edgewise. Scott was incoherent. He kept demanding Hoot come home instantly and there was a touch of hysteria in his voice. Suddenly worried Scott was having another heart problem, Hoot left, but not before making clear his intentions to Melva.

“You'd better talk to the cops today, because I'll be talking to them as soon as I get home.”

When he arrived home, a police car sat in the drive. Racing toward the house he was met at the door by Detective Lafayette and behind him stood an older couple whom Hoot recognized from their pictures. Case's parents, Dan and Mary! 'Oh God,' he thought, 'this is the moment I've been dreading, --- what I've been shying away from.' Well,--- he couldn't avoid it any longer. He started to say 'hello,' then noticed neither appeared to be grieving. Instead, warm smiles wreathed their faces. Scotty, too, was grinning from ear to ear and even the stoic Lafayette had a crinkle around his eyes.

“What?” Hoot asked. Before anyone could answer, Scott shouted,

“Casey isn't dead!” Hoot grabbed at the wall for support.

“It's true,” Lafayette said, “we released that news to force a confession. I'm sorry we couldn't tell you. Anyway, he survived and according to the doctors, he's making an excellent recovery. In fact he's been awake off and on since morning and is asking to see you.”

An hour later, Hoot stood beside a hospital bed looking down at Casey. A clear plastic tube carried oxygen to his nose, in other tubes, liquids dripped like slow heartbeats. Overcome with emotion, Hoot's eyes again filled with tears as he reached down to touch the friend whom he thought he lost forever. At his touch, Casey's eyes opened,

“Hi, Buddy. I was hoping you'd show up eventually.”

“Oh, God, Case. They told me you were dead. Otherwise, I would have been here from the get-go.” Hoot held Casey's hand and rubbed it, much the same as he did on the night of the shooting.

"Yeah, I heard. I'm sorry, I know how I would have felt if someone told me that about you.” He squeezed Hoot's hand in return,--- a grimace of pain crossed Casey's face. “I think it's time for more of that stuff,--- push the button, will ya?”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Uh-uh, it always take the nurse a few minutes. Stick around, I want to talk. Ma showed me the headlines this morning. They're looking for Manny Wilson. Do you remember him?”

"Yeah, I met the bastard a few times.” Hoot replied,

“They haven't ask me about him yet, but when they do, I won't keep quiet. Those guys had orders to kill me. That's a pretty heavy payback for a couple of cokes and little push. I've got to tell them, Hoot.”

“We'll both tell them. I'm all through protecting her. For what its worth though, Melva told me on Monday after she found out Vitto was lying to us, she called Wilson and ordered him to lay off. She also swears it was only a beating she paid for.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Yeah, I guess, maybe, but that doesn't change a damn thing, it's still her fault. She started this 'get even' bullshit a long time ago. When Larry Burke got the crap beat out of him, I figured it was Melva, only no one could prove it. This time she told me everything. You just tell the cops the whole story and I'll back you up.”

A nurse carrying a hypodermic pushed through the door. “More pain?” she asked. Casey nodded. “Okay, but remember only every two hours.” Hoot stepped aside as the woman injected a clear liquid into a tap on the drip line, “Pleasant dreams,” She said, straightening the bedding. Turning to Hoot, she added, “You can only stay a few more minutes, he'll be dropping off soon anyway.”

The nurse left and again Hoot took Casey's hand, lightly massaging it. Casey smiled, “Weird, isn't it that it took a shooting to pry my folks out of Minnesota. I must have asked them fifty times to visit, but there was always some excuse. In the summer, it was farm work, in the winter, they couldn't leave because the furnace might quit and the house would freeze. Just today Pop told me what the problem was; he's scared of airplanes. I told Ma that they'd better stay awhile 'cause I don't intend to get shot again just to get him airborne.”

Hoot smiled. Oh, God, he thought, how I would have missed his humor, how I would have missed him. Casey's eyelids began to droop, “Feels nice.” He said, flexing his fingers. A few moments later his eyes closed as he drifted into sleep and with a final pat, Hoot released Casey's hand and tiptoed from the room. Inquiring at the nurse's station, Hoot was told he could see Case again in about two hours, so instead of going home he decided to take a walk. There was much to think about, a great deal to sort out in his mind.

He recalled the night he first talked to Case, both of them drunk as a skunks sitting Melva's verandah. Earlier, Casey's wry humor, his witty comments about life in L.A. kept him and a dozen others in stitches. He was the life of the party and when Hoot followed him out to the verandah to introduce himself, things just seemed to click between them. He couldn't put it into words,--- an attraction of opposites maybe? Case, trim, lithe and screen idol handsome and he, an over muscled hulk with a mug so plain no one would look twice, yet almost overnight they became as inseparable as Siamese twins. Case called it good vibes, but whatever one wanted to call it, it was there from the start.

Case became his best friend, the brother he never had; to Hoot, Case was both,--- and more. He loved the guy,--- even during those times when jealously raised its ugly head,--- he loved him,--- and nothing in his life was more devastating than thinking Casey died. It left him an empty shell, his mind going back and forth over the words he never had a chance to said to Case, all the things they talked about but never did,--- all the emptiness that lay before him, and all the years he would have to face the fact he was unwittingly to blame for Casey's death. Casey's dying killed him, too,--- as surely as a bullet to the heart. Now the sun shown again. As far as Hoot was concerned, today was a bigger miracle than Jesus raising Lazarus. Not only was Case alive, but so was he,--- it was like being reborn; and, he didn't intend to waste a minute of this new chance at life.