The other annie, p.28
THE OTHER ANNIE, page 28
A little after 3:00, I heard a slight rustling outside my door.
It wasn’t loud, but it was unmistakable.
I ever so quietly got out of bed and stood up.
Less than five seconds later, I heard a key - or something similar - going into my door lock.
As silently as I could, I tiptoed toward the door. If someone were about to enter, I’d rush and slam them up against the wall.
I thought about screaming, but if they had a gun, they’d just shoot into the room. I thought the element of surprise was more valuable.
I heard the lock opening up. I quickly lamented choosing a motel without an electronic key. It’s incredible where the human mind will go under duress.
The door started to open ever so slowly.
I had to wait until he’d fully stepped into the room. One advantage I had was that my eyes had adapted to the darkness. His would take several seconds.
I told myself to look for a gun and focus on that arm.
Half of his body slowly entered the room, and then, as he slid his other half past the door, I attacked him.
With as much force as I could muster from five feet away, I tackled him into the door he’d just opened. The door hit the side wall with great force, and the man hit the door and fell to the ground.
He had a gun in his right hand, a long silencer attached to it.
With my left hand, I grabbed his wrist so he couldn’t fire the gun. With my right hand, I started pummeling his face. I don’t know if I’d knocked the air out of him, but he didn’t put up much of a defense.
I punched his face five consecutive times, and his grip started to loosen on the gun.
“What’s going on?!” a neighbor yelled.
“Call the police,” I screamed.
I was able to remove the gun from his hand, but I continued to punch him with my right hand. I didn’t care that I had the gun. I didn’t know what other weapon the guy might have hidden. I had to hammer him until he was incapable of doing anything.
I heard some grunts from adjoining rooms.
“Call the police,” I screamed for a second time.
Enough light was coming in from the motel’s lights that I could make out the face of the man on the ground in front of me. Sure enough, it was Archibald Dickey. I punched his face two more times for good measure.
He slumped over, and I knew he was no longer a threat.
Someone approached the door and saw me holding a gun.
“He attacked me,” I said. “This is his gun.”
“I believe you,” he said. “I called the cops.”
“Good.”
It all happened so fast that I was barely able to contemplate that I’d nearly been killed. I could be an overthinker at times, but when I heard the key, saw the man, and then the gun, my primal instincts took over.
I looked down, and Archibald Dickey was still on the ground. It didn’t look like he’d be getting up any time soon.
But I still had the gun pointed at him, just in case.
The LAPD arrived a few minutes later.
I asked the guy still standing outside my room to tell them I’d set the gun down on the bed right now. I wasn’t taking any chances.
Three officers approached the room. They escorted me out and started to put handcuffs on me. They then laid me on the ground.
“He’s not the bad guy,” my new friend said.
“This will only be for a few minutes.”
They asked me my name and wanted a quick explanation of what had happened. I gave it to them.
They stood Archibald Dickey up. He was wobbly, and his face was a bloody mess.
“His gun is on the bed,” I said.
“We were told, sir. Please be quiet and let us do our job.”
They handcuffed Dickey and put him in the back of one of the cop cars. I looked out, and there were probably three or four cop cars sitting in The Rinky Dink’s parking lot.
One of the officers turned to me.
“We’re going to take you back to the station for some questions, okay?”
Without much choice, I just said, “Alright.”
“And we’ll get these handcuffs removed soon.”
“Thanks,” I said.
One-word front-desk guy had meandered over to the crime scene. He had a name tag on, signifying he worked for the motel. He looked down at me, handcuffed on the ground, with an expression that said, “I knew you were trouble.”
The cops pulled me to my feet and had me look in the direction of one-word guy.
“He says his name is Bobby McGowan, and he’s staying here. Is that correct?”
“I don’t remember his name, but he’s staying here,” he said.
He didn’t recognize my name because I’d given him a fake one.
“And this man, in the backseat. He’s not staying here, is he?”
“No. I’ve never seen him before.”
“You can return to your desk now. We’ll be out of here soon.”
“Thanks.”
They removed my handcuffs and put me in the back seat of one of the police cars.
It looked like I was headed to another police station.
Much better than the morgue, I told myself.
I’d been very fortunate.
If I’d still been asleep, I’d have met the same fate as Gina Galasso.
Chapter 45
WADE
My father called me at 5:30 a.m.
I knew something was up. He’d never called me this early. Not once in his whole life. Plus, when we did argue, and the previous day was an all-timer, he’d usually let things simmer for a few days. Not this time.
“What is it?” I asked.
“The shit has hit the fan.”
“How bad is it?”
“Have you booked that flight yet?”
“No.”
“I’d do it right after you get off the phone. Depart today. If you wait any longer, you might be on the no-fly list.”
“Are you sure we should be talking on the phone?” I asked.
“There’s no other choice; now shut up and listen.”
“Okay.”
“Yesterday, Bobby McGowan went to the LAPD and the DA’s office and dropped off fliers saying you were responsible for Annie Ryan’s death and that I helped cover it up. He also said Archibald was likely responsible for killing Gina Galasso.”
“How could he know all this?”
“Shut up and listen, Wade. It gets worse. As you know, Archibald planned on killing Bobby last night. Well, it didn’t work out that way. McGowan overpowered him, and the LAPD was called. As far as I know, they are both in police custody right now.”
“Fuck. Archibald won’t talk, will he?”
“No, he won’t. But he was accused in those fliers of killing Gina and then is caught with a gun, breaking into McGowan’s motel room. It doesn’t look good.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“And it gets worse again,” my father said.
“Stop saying that. What this time?”
“I’ve been talking to Archibald over the phone in recent days. Shit, you were with me when we called him yesterday. That’s going to be a tough one to explain away.”
“We’re fucked, aren’t we?” I asked.
“That’s why you need to book that flight. I know we had a horrible fight yesterday, but you’re still my son. Get out of the United States and enjoy the rest of your life. I’d suggest flying to somewhere you can go unnoticed for a while. Your name will be coming up in connection with Annie Ryan. Soon.”
“They still have no real evidence.”
“Wade, they now have circumstantial evidence coming out of their ass. And now, they have Archibald.”
“You said he won’t talk.”
“I don’t think he will, but you never know. And it almost doesn’t matter. They will realize that everything Bobby McGowan has told them is true. So, they’ll start to think that maybe he’s also right about who killed Annie Ryan.”
“God dammit. What about you? Are you going to get out of the country?”
He didn’t answer for a few seconds.
“Dad?”
“I’m too old to go on the lam.”
“So, what, you’re going to go to jail?”
“No, I don’t think I’ll be doing that, either.”
“Then, what?”
“Figure it out, Wade.”
I then realized what he was trying to tell me, but I didn’t want to believe it.
“No, you don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do. I’m not rotting away in some jail. And you know why? Because cops don’t last long in jail. Especially dirty cops, and once they go digging on me, I’m royally screwed. All the former cops who hated me will come out of the woodwork.”
“Maybe they won’t have enough to convict you. Or maybe they’ll give you a break because you’re a former cop.”
“I’m not going to hang long enough to find out.”
“Don’t you believe in the rule of law?”
It sounded dumb, but I was just trying to throw things out there.
“Yeah, and we broke the law. Over and over. You may not see it yet, Wade, but this is all over. The avalanche has started. Bobby McGowan won. The LAPD is coming for us. Sooner rather than later.”
“No. I don’t believe it.”
“Open your eyes, Wade. It’s over.”
“Let’s talk this out,” I suggested.
“You take care of yourself now, Francis Wade.”
I was getting desperate. This was his goodbye to me.
“There’s got to be another way,” I said.
“There’s not. I’m going to hang up now.”
“Dad, please don’t.”
“Goodbye, Wade. And good luck.”
With that, my father hung up the phone.
We’d spoken for the last time.
Chapter 46
BOBBY
Iwas released from the police station at 5:45 a.m.
It was now July 3rd.
They said they’d be in touch. When I left, my two cell phones, laptop, and duffle bag awaited me.
“Your motel room is still considered a crime scene, so I’d find somewhere else to stay,” the officer said.
“Gladly,” I replied.
I turned on my regular phone.
I was no longer worried about being tracked with Archibald Dickey in jail, and Wade and Ed Bannie would probably get a visit from the cops soon. Maybe I was being naive, but I wasn’t worried about them.
I ordered a UBER back to the Beverly Hilton.
I arrived back in my hotel room and laid down on the bed.
My body probably wanted to sleep for twenty hours, but I wasn’t sure my busy mind would allow it.
I was able to fall asleep, however, as my body won out.
When I woke at 12:30, I called William Ryan and told him everything that happened, including the fliers and, more importantly, Archibald Dickey coming to kill me.
He was mesmerized.
“Hopefully, Mr. Dickey had been talking to Ed or Wade Bannie recently. I’m sure the police are going through his phone.” I said.
“Everything is coming together, Bobby. All because of you.”
“And they aren’t going to see your name on Dickey’s call log, are they?”
“This again? No, they will not see me on there.”
“I believe you,” I said. “I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t.”
“So what’s next on the docket?” William asked.
“I don’t know if there’s much I can do now. The cops know pretty much everything.”
“You could do one thing for me.”
“What is it?”
“I know the head DA up here. Could I have him give you a call? You can explain everything you’ve learned and why you think Wade Bannie killed Annie. It might help to expedite what we’re looking for.”
“Wade Bannie being arrested?”
“Exactly.”
“Sure, have him call me,” I said.
“Thanks, Bobby. I’ll have him call you soon. Report back to me after you hear from him.”
Ten minutes later, the Hollywood district attorney called.
His name was Max Collier.
I spent twenty minutes telling him everything I had learned since taking the Annie Ryan case.
“So, what do you think?” I asked.
“If this were thirty-six hours ago, I would have said this case was too circumstantial, and being that it was twenty-five years ago, we’d be unlikely to get a conviction.”
“And now?”
“Well, if the cops can connect Archibald Dickey to Wade or Ed Bannie, that changes everything.”
“Thank you. You have no idea how good that feels to hear.”
“Why don’t we talk again tomorrow, Bobby? I have a feeling momentum is on your side.”
I was getting a call from an unlisted call.
“Sounds good. Talk then,” I said and clicked over to the other call.
“Hello?”
“You’ve proved a formidable opponent, Robert,” a voice said.
It was not being disguised.
“Is this Wade?”
“Not many people can outduel Archibald Dickey.”
He’d ignored my question.
“Who am I talking to?” I asked.
“Aren’t we past that? You’ve put my name on flyers and accused me of murder. Do you have to hear me say it? And does it matter anyway? I’m not going to admit to anything.”
“I guess you’re afraid to admit your first name is Francis.”
He laughed.
“You’ll have to do better than that, Robert.”
“Oh, I think I’ve done quite well. You’ll be hearing from the police quite soon,” I said.
He laughed again; I hated his smugness.
“Doubtful,” he said.
“You keep laughing, but you’re now the one on the defensive.”
“I just wanted to say goodbye and congrats.”
“Congrats on what?”
“On being better at this than I initially assumed. You still didn’t catch your man, but you deserve some credit for how you played the game.”
It’s like he was holding a trump card. How could he be so confident with all that was going on?
“Why don’t we meet up in person?” I asked.
“At one point, I would have liked that.”
“Not anymore?”
“Sorry, Robert, but no. And I really was just calling to say goodbye. You take care now, you hear?”
“Hold on, I have a few more quick questions.”
“Nice try. Goodbye.”
And he hung up.
I thought back on our conversation.
I didn’t like when he said, “Doubtful,” when I mentioned the police.
This was a guy who’d gotten away with everything in his life.
And he thought he was going to do so again.
I thought I had an idea why.
“Detective Patchett speaking.”
“I need the biggest favor you’ve ever given me. And please don’t give me grief about it. Time is of the absolute essence.”
“Hey, Bobby. What is it?”
“Can you find out if someone named Francis Wade Bannie has a scheduled flight out of LAX today or tomorrow? If you can’t get this information yourself, I know you know someone who can. It’s crucial.”
“You’re taking advantage of our friendship, Bobby.”
“This is the last time, I promise, but I need this.”
“Spell out his name for me.”
I did.
“Keep your phone close,” Patchett said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“One more thing.”
“You’re killing me, Bobby. What?”
“Get me his address too.”
To my amazement, Detective Patchett called me back in less than fifteen minutes with the information.
My suspicions were proven correct.
Wade Bannie was booked on a flight from LAX to Mexico City at 6:00 p.m., four and a half hours away.
He was trying to flee the country, and if he did, I feared he would never be brought to justice.
For a guy I was suspicious of only a day before, I sure was getting chummy with William Ryan. It felt right. He’d hired me, after all, and had been there since the beginning.
I told him about my discussion with the DA, the call with Wade Bannie, and the information Detective Patchett had just relayed.
“What are you going to do now, Bobby?”
“I fear he’ll vanish if he leaves the country.”
“And the DA won’t put a hold on his passport?”
“I highly doubt it. Not this quickly. They are probably still trying to tie Archibald Dickey to Wade and his father. And his flight is in less than five hours. Hermosa Beach is less than ten miles from LAX, so it’s not like he has far to go. But Mexico City is an international flight, so he might try to get there in the next two or three hours.”
“You’re talking in circles. What’s your plan?”
“Wade has lived all over the Caribbean but also spent a lot of time in Mexico. He probably knows how to go underground and hide in plain sight. I fear we may never see him again if he gets down there.”
“Stop saying that. Come up with a plan.”
“I was thinking about breaking into his house and stealing his passport. If we can just give the DA another two or three days, I do think they may red flag him from flying.”
“You’re never one to run out of ideas. Passport stealing is a new one.”
“Listen, William, I should go. If I’m going to do this, I need to head down to Hermosa Beach soon."
“Maybe you should just let the authorities handle this.”
“By the time they handle it, he’ll be in Mexico with dreads and new tattoos and looking nothing like he does now.”
Another long silence followed. It felt like William was weighing his options.
“Can you wait a few minutes before you go? I have something I want to check up on.”
