The Woman Who Forgot Her Life

His name was Willard Ward, and he'd done a year for the same thing. I must have seen him in a holding cell at one time or another and remembered the birth mark. Willard didn't like his name, and was known on the street as Willy. He'd been released from custody a week earlier. You'd think he'd have taken up a different occupation since he'd already been caught once, but I guess some people take a while to figure things out.

Willard's last known address was on the east side of town. He'd lived there with one Peggy Ann Dunston. Since he'd repeated his crime, I figured he might not have changed the woman either. I checked the state DMV for her name and found the same address.

He wasn't there when I knocked on the door, but Peggy was. I asked if she'd seen Willy lately.

"No, I ain't seen the fucking little bastard since he went to prison. but he should be here. He's got a kid he needs to be taking care of."

Looking at Peggy, I couldn't figure out why Willard would have shacked up with her, let along done anything to get her pregnant. Peggy wasn't much to look at. It might have helped if she'd done something with her hair and had worn something other than the tight top and yoga pants.

She'd not lost what my sister called her "baby weight" if that's what it was, and the yoga pants were pretty good proof of that. She had huge breasts, and maybe Willard liked that sort of thing, but her ass was enough to turn me off. I mean, I like a woman to have a figure and that includes a nice round ass. I just can't seem to appreciate an ass that sticks out in the back as far as Peggy's did.

"Would you know of any place I might find Willard?"

"What's he done this time?"

"I just want to talk to him and see how he's doing."

"Yeah, I fucking bet that's all. He's got his skinny fucking ass in trouble again. He used to hang out at a garage on eighty second. Mel's something. At least that's what he always called it. He might be there. You find the little fucker, you let me know. I wanna kick his ass."

As I drove away from the house, I had to chuckle. Willard's file said he weighed in at one twenty eight. Peggy went at least two ten if not more. It would have been fun watching her kick his ass.

The garage was actually called Melvin's Motors, or at least that's the only garage I could find with Mel in the name. At one time, it had been a gas station with two service bays for oil changes and tire work. Now, it was just a run down building with the gas pump islands still there but no pumps.

There were a couple cars and one truck parked in front so it looked like the place was still in business, but even though the two garage doors were standing open, there didn't seem to be anybody around. I walked inside and yelled to see if anybody was.

I heard, "Hang on until I get this drain plug tight", from under an older pickup truck in the left bay. There was the sound of a ratchet wrench turning for a while before a guy climbed out of the pit under the truck. He wiped his hands on a rag before walking over to where I stood.

"I'm Melvin. What can I do for you officer?"

The guy was about fifty and he looked nervous. The tattoo on his right hand just below his wrist told me why. There were five small dots like you'd see on a die. The four dots on the outside symbolized the walls of a prison cell. The one dot in the center symbolized the guy trapped inside. At some point in his life, he'd seen the inside of a cell for a while and talking to a cop might mean he was in danger of going back.

When cops learn how to interrogate someone, we're taught to read the person's voice and body language to understand if he's scared, lying, or trying to cover something up, and to use that knowledge to our advantage. It isn't unusual for one person to cover for another out of some twisted sense of loyalty or fear of retaliation. I wanted Melvin to understand that if he knew where Willard might be, not giving me that information would probably turn out to be bad for him.

"I'm looking for Willard Ward. I heard he hangs out around here. I figure that means you're a friend of his, maybe even a partner."

"What do you want Willy for? He's only been out a week or so. He done something already?"

"That's between me and Mr. Ward. Have you seen him or know where he might be? If you do, it would go better for you if you tell me. Hiding him could be considered aiding and abetting, and you know where that leads."

The guy got even more nervous, but he started to talk.

"I ain't gonna lie to you officer. I done my time and I ain't goin' back for helpin' nobody, much less Willy. Willy come by the shop about a week ago and asked if I needed any help. I told him I didn't. Them new cars are hard to figger out lessen you got one of them damned computer things. I ain't got one, so about all I can do anymore is change the oil in 'em an' work on the brakes. I don't charge as much as Walmart and I'm closer to some folks, so I get enough of those to pay the bills, but that's all.

"I told him I can handle what business I do get and can't afford to pay any help anyway. He left then and I ain't seen him since. Don't care if I do neither. He

used to be a decent kid afore he started snatchin' purses. I tried to tell him it weren't worth it, but he wouldn't listen."

"Any ideas about where me might have gone?"

"Well, if he snatched another one, he'll have to find a place to sell the credit cards. That'd be on the street cause none of the pawn shops'll touch 'em like they might a watch or jewelry. Last I heard, Big Sammy was buyin' 'em."

Well, it was a start. I wasn't sure I believed the guy, but it was a start.

"Does Big Sammy have a name?"

"I don't know. I ain't never seen the guy and I don't want to. All I ever heard was Big Sammy."

He seemed to relax a little when I thanked him for the information. He probably relaxed a lot once I got back in the squad car and drove off.

My shift was almost over so I drove back to the station and turned in the car, then drove my SUV to Mercy to see the woman. When I walked through the automatic door, I remembered I'd forgotten to buy her anything to read. A quick stop at the hospital shop fixed that. Ten minutes later, I knocked on the door of her room.

She smiled when I sat the bag on the bed.

"I thought you'd probably forget. You must have better things to do."

"Nah. I promised you, didn't I?'

I sat the bag on the bed.

"I didn't know what you might like so I got an assortment. I bought a romance novel, a mystery novel, and one about vampires. There's also a fashion magazine, and one about sewing. You can tell me tomorrow night which ones you like."

"You're coming back tomorrow too?"

I grinned.

"I told you I don't like unsolved cases. I'll see you every night until you remember or I find out who you are."

She frowned.

"Finding out who I am isn't really part of your case, is it? It's finding out who stole my purse and knocked me down."

What she said was partly true. It was the doctor's task to get her memory back, but if Willard had picked her out for some reason I needed to know what that reason was. I'd only find that out if Willard told me, assuming I caught him, or if I found out who she was and there was a connection of some type.

"Well, yes and no. I am working on who stole your purse, but if you were to remember what happened, it would make finding and convicting him a lot easier. The psychiatrist told me sometimes seeing something that used to be familiar can start the memories coming back. Maybe one of these books will do that."

She sighed.

"I doubt it. I talked to him again today. He's almost as lost as I am. All he could tell me was that my brain is blocking my memories for some reason. It's like that book, "Catch 22". I can't remember anything because my brain is blocking everything in my past. If I can't remember anything, I can't tell the psychiatrist what it is so he can talk me through it and I'll be able to remember what it was."

"You remember reading 'Catch 22'?"

She sighed.

"No, I didn't read it. The movie was on television right after lunch."

It sounded like a lost cause unless I could identify her, but I tried to be sympathetic.

"Don't give up yet. We haven't heard from the state or the FBI yet. They might have your fingerprints on file. If they do, we'll know who you are. Once you know that, I'd bet the memories will start coming back."

"Yeah, if I'm a criminal. I think I'd rather not remember that if I am."

I shrugged.

"There are a lot of reasons people have their fingerprints taken. Military service is one. I got fingerprinted when I became a cop. Companies with bonded employees take prints from those employees. Give me a week, and I'll know one way or another."

She frowned.

"I don't have a week. Since there's nothing physically wrong with me they're releasing me Friday afternoon. I still have to come back to talk with Doctor Rice every other day, but they won't let me stay here. They're sending me to a half-way house. Know anything about the one on Coral Drive? It's called New Beginnings."

It sounded to me like the hospital was abandoning her to her fate, but then, if she didn't know who she was, she wouldn't know if she had insurance or not. Mercy is a non-profit hospital, but they still had to make ends meet. If she was capable of looking after herself, they really had no choice but to release her.

I did know of the half-way house on Coral. It was a place run by a charity for people with mental problems like depression or anxiety.

"Yes, I know a little about it. From what I hear, it's pretty nice. You'll have a private room and three meals a day. It's run by a charity, so you won't have to pay anything."

Her face turned hopeful.

"Do you think you could take me there? Doctor Rice said they'd send a bus to pick me up, but...well, I don't want to ride a bus with a bunch of crazy people."

I smiled.

"The people there aren't crazy, but I'll take you. You'll have to sit in the lobby if they release you before four or so. It'll take me that long to get here from the station."

I left a little after that. We didn't have much to talk about because she didn't remember anything except the last two days. That night, I laid in bed hoping she'd remember something, anything that would help me find out who she was. I figured it must be hell knowing you didn't know your own name. She was too nice a woman to have to go through something like that.

I spent the next morning trying to find Big Sammy. Our data base said some guy named Sam Laurel used that alias, so I ran his name for priors.

Sam was definitely small time. He'd been convicted of trying to sell stolen merchandise to a pawn shop. The pawn shop owner thought it a little suspicious that any guy would have six cameras to sell at the same time. He also saw what he thought was a social security number engraved on one of them. He told Sam he had to check with an expert on prices and to come back the next day.

Sam must not be the sharpest tack in the box, because he did go back. The two plain-clothes detectives arrested him and traced the camera with the social security number to a home robbery two weeks before.

Sam said he didn't know the name of the guy who sold him the cameras and swore he thought they were the guy's property. Unfortunately for Sam, he'd been a little too greedy. If he'd tried to sell just one, he might have skated. Six sounded to the jury like he was either a thief or a fence.

Like every cop, I had a couple people on the street who'd tell me what they knew as long as there was something in it for them. In Judy's case that something was the twenty dollar bill I waved at her when I stopped at the light on the corner she worked.

Judy is a prostitute I'd arrested several years before. I hadn't been on the force very long, so she didn't know my face. She got in my plain car and started listing off her services. After hearing how much a blow job with a condom would cost me, how much she charged to ride my cock in the front seat or let me fuck her in the back seat, both only with a condom, and that she never let anybody fuck her in the ass, I stopped her and showed her my badge.

She offered me my choice of a freebie if let her go, but I couldn't very well do that. I did have another idea though. Judy jumped at the chance to become an informant, and she'd given me some valuable information in the past. I hoped she either knew or could find out where Big Sammy was.

When she saw me, she pointed toward the parking garage a block away. The garage was our usual meeting place. I drove to the third floor and found a parking spot. Judy walked up the stairs a few minutes later. I was standing by them waiting on her.

She popped her chewing gum and asked what I wanted.

"You know a guy named Big Sammy?"

"Yeah...he buys stuff sometimes."

"I need to talk to him."

"What about?"

"About Willard Ward."

She laughed.

"You mean Willy, don'tcha?"

"You know him?"

"Yeah. Before he went to prison, he used to come see me about once a week. He likes to have his dick sucked and his girlfriend wouldn't do it."

"Have you seen him since he got out?"

"Yeah...last night. He wanted a blow job."

"Any idea where I could find him?"

"Sure. He's living with his new girlfriend over on Sixty-Third between Rawson and Elm. That's what he told me anyway. She won't suck his dick either so he came to see me. She does like fucking another girl though. He wanted to know how much I'd charge for both him and his girlfriend. I said it would depend on where I had to go. That's when he told me."

"You wouldn't happen to have the address, would you?"

"No...but he said he said the house is green."

I handed Judy the twenty, but she frowned.

"My man will want to know what I was doing here for so long. I can tell him I was fucking a guy, but a fuck is fifty."

I smiled.

"Tell you what. You tell your man it was a blow job and it took a while because you had to go up and down the steps to the top floor. If I find Willy, I'll come back with the other thirty."

That Thursday morning, Mack pulled his patrol car up beside me in the gas station on the corner of Sixty Third and Elm. I wanted some backup in case Willard tried to get out the back door while I was knocking on the front. Mack walked down the alley to the back of the green house and then called on his radio to let me know he was ready. I walked up to the front door and knocked.

The woman who answered had that really unnatural, really red hair that could only come out of a bottle. It was almost one, but she just wore a thin robe. Her breasts were just as big as Peggy's but the rest of her was a lot slimmer. I guessed Willard had decided thin was in. The woman's ass wasn't really thin like her waist, but it was an ass that would probably be a lot of fun.

I introduced myself and asked if Willard Ward lived there. She turned sort of pale and swallowed.

"Yes."

"Is he here?"

She turned and yelled down the hallway.

"Willy, there's a cop here. He wants to talk to you."

All I saw of Willard was his ass in his undershorts as he ran down the hall and into what I later found out was the kitchen. That's where the back door was. Mack tackled him before he got out of the back yard.

I got Willard booked and into an orange jumpsuit, and then sat him down in an interrogation room. I left for about fifteen minutes to give him time to think. He'd been in the system once, so he'd figure we wouldn't have hauled his ass in unless we had some proof. If we had that much proof, he'd probably end up back in prison unless he could find some way out. I wanted him to sweat for a while. It would make it easier to get the answers I was looking for.

I made sure the camera in the interrogation room was recording and then walked into the room with my case file in hand and sat down.

"How you doing, Willard?"

"How the fuck you think I'm doing? That big fucking cop like to have broke my fucking back when he tackled me."

I chuckled.

"Well, Mack played football in high school. He probably does hit pretty hard. Sorry about that, but he couldn't let you get away, now could he?"

"How come you drug my ass to jail? I ain't done nothin'."

"Well, Willard, there was a purse snatching outside a boutique a few days ago. I figure you might know something about it."

He slammed his hand down on the table.

"Stop calling my Willard. My name is Willy, and I don't know nothing about no fucking boutique or any fucking purse snatching."

I grinned.

'OK, I'll call you Willy. Willy, you probably didn't know there was a security camera on the coffee shop across the street from that boutique, did you?"

He slammed his hand down on the table again.

"I already told you I wasn't there."

I stopped smiling then.

"Willy, if you slam your hand down on my table again, I'll take you to holding and let you sit there for a while. Well, you probably won't be sitting for long. We brought in a really big guy this morning, Stick is what he goes by if I remember right. I heard he likes having little guys like you...well, from what I hear you like having that done too. He goes about two fifty, two seventy five, so I doubt any of the other guys in holding would try to stop him from uh...well, you know. Maybe after he's had his fun, you'll be more talkative. We can play this easy, or we can play it hard? Which is it gonna be?"

Willard glared at me, but then said "Easy".

"OK. That security camera shows you standing outside the boutique for at least ten minutes before the woman came out. Then it shows you running past her, grabbing her purse, and then running down the sidewalk and into the alley, so I have you on theft. You knocked her down in the process and she hit her head on the steps. That's assault. The woman's in pretty bad shape. If she should die...well, if the DA's in a good mood, that would be at least involuntary manslaughter. If he's not..."

"You can't prove none of that."

I opened the case file and took out the picture the techs had enlarged from the video. I laid it in front of Willard.

"Unless you have a twin brother with the same birthmark, this is you. I drove down that alley myself and found the woman's purse in the dumpster where you tossed it. The techs lifted your fingerprints off the handle. That's enough proof to make sure you spend some more time behind bars. I figure you'll get a year for the purse, maybe two because it'll be the second offense, and another couple for the assault charge, well unless the worst happens. Then you'd probably get maybe fifteen years or so...if the DA's in a good mood like I said."

I'd lied about his fingerprints. All I knew for sure was Cheryl had found a partial. I didn't yet have an ID. I'd also lied about the woman's condition. The law is a funny thing sometimes. It's perfectly legal for me to lie out my ass about almost anything during an interrogation. I just can't lie once I'm on the witness stand. Willard hadn't asked for a lawyer yet. I was hoping those lies would convince him to confess before he did.

Willard looked at the picture, then at me, and then at the picture again. He frowned and whispered "fuck", then frowned at me.

"I snatched the purse, but I didn't mean to hurt her. The bitch just had the purse over her arm, and when I jerked if off, she fell down. That was an accident, not assault. If you're gonna charge me with assault, I want a lawyer."

"The DA will have to make that decision. I could probably get him to drop the assault charge, well, as long as it's just assault anyway. I'd like some honest answers to a few questions before I do that though. Did you know the woman?"

"Fuck no, man. She just looked like a rich bitch who'd have a bunch of credit cards I could sell."