David L Cleveland
Of Blood and Suspects
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THE KINGDOM, THE POWER, AND THE GLORY
By
David Cleveland
© 2018
Word count: 107,000
CHAPTER ONE
Of Blood and Suspects
He was floating in liquid darkness at the bottom of a well. Far above him he could make out a red light. It was getting brighter. He felt himself rising up through the depths to meet it. He realized his head hurt terribly. Someone was shaking him. The light flashed bright white and shot pain through his temples. He wanted to return to the darkness of the well, but he was jerked out of the car and thrown face down on the asphalt.
He felt his wrists being handcuffed behind his back. His eyes were gummy, and he blinked several times to clear them. It was nighttime. There were flashing blue lights. His mouth was dry, and his head pounded. Someone said, “Get him up.”
Hands went under his armpits and jerked him up against the side of the car. Three police officers wearing knee-high boots, funny pants that puffed out at the thigh, and Smoky-the-Bear hats stood glaring at him. Behind them, several police cars crackled with the intermittent messages of police radios, their blue lights blinding him with each turn. Another officer was working the key in the trunk. It opened with a muffled pop. The officer stood back and shined his flashlight into it. “Aw, Jesus, look at this.”
Two of the officers standing in front of him stepped over to see. The third stood staring at him from a few feet away. “So where is it?” he said. “What’d you do with him?”
Ricky Davenport didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know what was going on, and he didn’t know what the cop was asking him. He said, “What the fuck? I didn’t do nothin’.”
The State Trooper stepped forward and in one motion swung his boot up into Ricky’s crotch. Ricky let out a gasp and pitched forward onto the asphalt. His face hit first with a sickening crunch before he fell over on his side and drew his knees up to his stomach. In an instant he was jerked up again and pinned against the car. His legs gave out and he slid to a sitting position. A hand kept his head cocked back against the car by his hair. “I asked you a question. What’d you do with the body? You dump it somewheres?”
Ricky stared up at the hats and faces pulsing blue in the night sky. He managed to whisper, “I don’t know.”
He was shoved roughly sideways onto his shoulder which caused his head to snap into the asphalt. He lay there semi-conscious and curled into himself to endure the pain. He could feel a chipped tooth with his tongue. His lips were swelling up. He couldn’t see too well out of one eye because of blood flowing into it from somewhere. He was in survival mode; he just had to endure it. He knew the cops would begin to kick him soon. But they would grow tired of it. They always did. He wondered how he got back to Daytona.
He opened his eyes in a bright white room and knew it was over. They had brought him to the infirmary at the jail. They always did. The nurse would work on him for a while, then they’d put him in a cell. He had to remember to ask her for some codeine. Sometimes she would give him some if the cops had busted him up pretty bad. The side of his face felt tight and must be swollen. His mouth had the flat, iron taste of blood. His licked over his teeth and felt the sharp edge of the chipped tooth. But it didn’t hurt too much. Maybe she’d already given him something.
He heard a low murmur of voices and tried to look in their direction. A man wearing a short white lab coat had his back to him. He was talking to two State Troopers with the hats. One was square-jawed with bristly gray hair. The other was younger and swollen looking, like a weight lifter. The troopers were nodding. Ricky heard one say, “...Yeah, resisting arrest, subdued for officer safety...”
He heard the other trooper say something about blood and how they needed his clothes. He wondered why the cops wanted his clothes. Usually they were taken away by the jail guards and washed, and he got them back when he left. The trooper nodded towards him and saw that he was awake. The man in the white coat turned to look at him. Ricky didn’t recognize him. He must be new. Ricky hoped he would be okay about the codeine. The three men walked towards him, and the older trooper took out a pad of paper and a pen. He said, “Son, you awake? I’ve got to ask you a few questions. Is that all right? It’s okay if I ask you a few questions, right?”
Ricky said nothing. He knew the drill. The cops liked it when you answered their questions. They always said it would help you out later. It never seemed to help him out, but he would answer their questions anyway. They liked that.
The older trooper took off his hat and laid it on a counter. He rubbed his hand back and forth over the gray bristles of his flat top. He pulled up a stool next to the examining table and sat down. “What’s your name, son?” He held his pen ready over the notepad.
“Ricky. Ricky Davenport,” he answered. His voice sounded funny, like he had cotton in his mouth. It hurt a little to talk. He noticed that the other trooper had laid a pocket-sized tape recorder on the table beside him.
“Where’re you from?”
“Daytona,” he said. Is that where he was, he wondered. Everyone knew him at the jail in Daytona. He didn’t know these cops, and he didn’t recognize their funny hats. Maybe he was out in the sticks somewhere.
“You got an address there?”
“No.”
“Was that where you were going? Back to Daytona Beach, Florida?”
“I guess so.”
“Did you know the man whose car you were driving?”
Car? Ricky didn’t remember driving no car. “What car?” he answered.
“The one we found you sleeping in. Over at the motel by the Interstate.”
“I don’t know nothing about no car,” he said.
“So, you didn’t know the victim? The owner of the car.”
“No.”
“Ricky, how did all that blood get in the car and in the trunk? You know whose blood that is?”
“I don’t know nothin’ about no blood,” he said. He was going to suggest that it was probably his own blood from when they kicked the shit out of him, but he knew they wouldn’t like that. So, he said nothing.
“How about the blood on your clothes? You know how that got there?”
Now he’s asking for it, thought Ricky. Of course he knew how it got there. He could still taste the blood in his mouth. But this cop was looking for another answer. Maybe if he went along with him, it would work out better. “I must have slipped and cut myself,” he said.
The two troopers looked at each other. They’re probably feeling bad about what they did to me, thought Ricky. The older trooper looked at him for a moment. He seemed pissed about something. Maybe that was the wrong answer. “Ricky, I’m tired of bullshitting around,” he said. “You’re gonna tell me what you did with the body, and you’re gonna to do it now. You clear about that? Now where’d you dump it? On the side of the highway? You bury it somewhere?”
Ricky looked at the three men staring down at him. Body? What are they talking about? I don’t remember burying no body. He began to think this wasn’t like the other times. These cops seemed serious. There must be some big shit going down. “Where am I anyway?” he asked.
“You’re at the Polk County Jail in Des Moines, Iowa. Now, you buried the body somewhere along the highway, didn’t you? Do you remember where you did it? Can you take us there?”
Iowa, what the fuck am I doing in Iowa, Ricky said to himself. I thought this was Florida. Of course, I don’t know why I’d be in Florida. The last thing I knew I was in Colorado. And what about this body thing? They must think I killed someone. I’m in some deep shit; I need a lawyer.
“Can you take us to where you dumped the body?” asked the trooper more forcefully.
“No, I can’t take you there,” said Ricky. “And I think I’d better talk to a lawyer.”
“You’ll get a lawyer later. Right now, you’re going to answer some questions. Are you in pain? You want the doc to give you a shot?”
“Yeah, I’d like some codeine. You got any codeine, doc? My mouth kinda hurts.”
“Give him some codeine, Ned. We don’t want him in any pain.” He turned to the other trooper, “You better rewind that thing to where we were before we got side-tracked.”
Cleveland, In the Kingdom/ PAGE 5
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