Too Good 129

Tags

Adriel, Bill Finger, Confrontation, Duvan Diaz, Gabrielle, Officer Chuck Davies

Overwhelming concern layered on top of emotional turmoil easily leads to exhaustion. Adriel did not remember when he’d ever felt lower, weaker or less hospitable. Body quickly fading to oblivion, spirits reduced because of his wife’s confession of an adulterous affair that he’d known of but not really about and then the Earth shattering panic that had ensued when he’d been awakened by a phone call from his then missing wife magnified by police officers pounding on his door had done more to deflate him than even the months old realization that his stem-cell treatments had been completely in-efficacious. He was as done in as he thought he could stand and now standing before him was Bill Finger, the man who was supposed to be out of his wife’s life as he was now her ex-lover.

Adriel had no desire to offer this interloper hospitality. What he wanted was the paramedics to give Gabrielle a clean bill of health, her to be returned to his side, she and Duvan to give their statements to the police and then to be left in peace so he could fall back to the soporific palliation of letting his conscious mind retreat to blessed slumber with his wife nestled beside him. Instead he had invited the viper into his nest.

“Thank you,” Bill said quietly in response to his welcome. “I guess you know that Duvan called me to see if I could help? Is Gabrielle alright?”

Officer Davies inserted himself into the fledgling conversation by saying, “The paramedics are checking her out now and Looney’s getting her statement. Duvan? Before this goes any further I need to interview you too so that we have a clear idea of what you saw.

“Mr. Gibeon? Duvan and I can go to another room or outside if you’d like. I might like to talk to Finger here but it doesn’t really sound like you’ve had actual contact with Mrs. Gibeon? Did she call you after her assault?”

“Gabrielle? No,” Bill replied. “Duvan called. I was sleeping and out of sorts but I only spoke to him. He told-”

“Yeah, thanks,” Davies interrupted. “I think we all appreciate you coming down here to help, especially since you must have had a couple shots of NyQuil before getting behind the wheel, but my job is to talk to Mrs. Gibeon and any witnesses and see if we can’t find out who attacked her and go forward from there. Since you’re not a witness and haven’t even spoken to the victim directly then what Duvan told you isn’t really germane.

“What’s your preference, Mr. Gibeon? Another room for me and poor Duvan here or outside? He seems pretty beat up with that head injury and it being late and all I was hoping to interview him so he could be on his way. Is there somewhere he and I could talk in private?”

“Why in private?” Adriel asked. “As you said neither Mr. Finger nor I are involved in the attack or what happened to Gabrielle afterwards and I would like to know what happened to my wife. Is there a reason why you can’t conduct your interview with me present?”

“Well it isn’t done. We don’t want anyone unintentionally altering somebody else’s statement; you know? That’s why I asked you two not to discuss anything while I went outside for our little side show with Mr. Finger here.”

“Yeah,” Bill interjected, “but that doesn’t apply here. You just got through saying that only Duvan and Gabrielle are truly germane; victim and witnesses. There’s really no good reason for Mr. Gibeon not to hear what Duvan has to say. I mean, let’s face it, the three of them are going to talk about this just as soon as you’re gone; right?”

The look that the officer shot at Bill was quite telling but before Davies could speak Adriel interjected his own opinion.

Too Good 128

Tags

"Creeping", Adriel, Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), Bill Finger, Duvan Diaz, Gabrielle

Grasping the bull by the horns Bill looked Adriel in the eyes and said, “Always glad to help, Duvan. Mr. Gibeon, may I come in?”

Spying on people, “Creeping” as it is frequently called by those of his young assistant Jenny Gallardo’s generation, is greatly facilitated by social media. Seemingly innocuous Facebook posts can give total strangers access to a plethora of information and is used both by criminals to phish for information and law enforcement to garner self-incriminating evidence against suspected law breakers.

Bill wasn’t much of a social media kind of guy; he had Linked In and Facebook accounts but utilized the former to establish and nurture business contacts and the latter site he visited infrequently as evidenced by his status updates which occurred about as often as blue moons. He had, however, learned to play the creeping game fairly well.

Some Facebook accounts are wide open, anyone can read virtually anything, bare the soul to the world entities while others are supposedly locked to outsiders and reveal nothing but an account holder’s name, city of residence and most likely a profile picture. Most of the locked accounts can be breached for tid-bits of information by utilizing a little creativity and finding mutual friends where the closed lipped folks might comment on posts or provide photos.

Early in their relationship Gabrielle Gibeon had “friended” Bill and he had taken pleasure in looking over the information she shared with friends and the world. Her account reached back nearly a decade and he had seen images of Adriel and watched him grow from a robust, Grecian god sort of a young man to the shrunken, desiccated shell he had first seen in person scant weeks before at Bar Louie.

Sitting just a few feet away from the Gibeons he had eavesdropped on their conversation out of both a desire to know all that went on in Gabrielle’s mind and simple covetous jealousy. Adriel possessed what Bill wanted and he had listened with rapt attention as the couple had spoken to one another secure in the knowledge that Adriel did not know him and Gabrielle could not see him.

He had heard Adriel’s voder produced voice before but up until now he had never spoken with the man. With no idea how he would be received, whether he’d be allowed to stay or ordered from Gabrielle’s home by her husband, Bill waited anxiously for Adriel to form a sentence and then command his voice giving device to speak.

“Ah, Bill. I’ve heard a lot about you. Why don’t you come in?” was the opening volley that the ironsides clad Adriel verbally shot out.

Too Good 127

Tags

.04 DWI Limit, .08 DUI Limit, Adriel, Bill Finger, Duvan Diaz, Face to Face Encounter, Officer Chuck Davies, Ultimatum

Like virtually every other citizen of the USA Bill was aware that driving while intoxicated was illegal. Over his lifetime he had twice seen Maryland’s blood alcohol limit become more stringent and had nodded in agreement when his home state had, over the course of three years, raised the legal drinking age from 18 to 21 while grandfathering in those who had already been able to legally purchase booze. He readily granted the need to control drunk driving but this was the first he’d heard of Maryland’s DWI point oh four limit.

“What the hell are you talking about? It says oh seven two. That’s way lower than point oh eight.”

“Point oh eight is driving under the influence, point oh four is driving while impaired, sir. You are well above the oh four for DWI and you were driving recklessly.

Officer Davies stared into Bill’s eyes and frankly told him that with the blood alcohol level the breathalyzer indicated that he had every right to park Bill in the back of his cruiser and have him cool his heels, an action that would make Davies’ life easier while greatly complicating Bill’s. After detailing the harrowing scenario he added, “Or you can do as you’re told and if the Gibeons want you in their house and you can keep your mouth shut then I can talk to Mrs. Gibeon and find out what transpired tonight.

“What’ll it be, Mr. Finger?”

‘Games,’ Bill thought, ‘cops just love to play games. Is he for real with this point oh four thing?’ “You’re really not making this up?”

Based on the detailed response he was given Bill decided Davies was either expert at controlling people using fear or was truthful in his explanation concerning Maryland’s two tiered alcohol limit. “We tend to reserve it for people who were driving recklessly, like you were. First offense DWI can carry license suspension, a fine and possible imprisonment. Oh, yeah. And eight points on your license, not to mention court time. So what do you say?”

‘Billy, I think it’s time to admit defeat and bow to the inevitable. Maybe if I bare my neck this alpha dog can just go about his business and let me go about mine.’ “I’d appreciate it if you could let me see Gabrielle and overlook my possible infraction, Officer.”

“‘Possible.’ I like that. You a lawyer?”

“No,” Bill replied. ‘Maybe humor will help?’ “I’m a drug dealer. Pharmaceuticals. I spend some time in court because of my job. Can we go in?”

Davies smiled which Bill took as a good sign. More importantly they headed toward Gabrielle’s open front door where Davies knocked on the frame. “Mr. Gibeon?” he called out, “This gentleman says that you called him and asked him to come over?”

Bill steeled himself for his first face to face encounter with Gabrielle’s husband. As Officer Davies had said it was Adriel’s and Gabrielle’s call as to whether he’d be granted contact or not.

It wasn’t Adriel’s voder produced voice that greeted him but rather his young friend, the hard working and effervescent Duvan Diaz’s. “Mr. Finger! Thank you for coming!” he gibbered but Bill’s attention was elsewhere. The real impediment to his entry sat in a wheelchair looking up at him from inside the house.

 

Too Good 126

Tags

.04 DWI Limit, Bill Finger, Officer Chuck Davies, Sobriety Check Point

Over nearly fifty years of driving Bill had never been pulled over for drunk driving. ‘Well,’ he thought as he climbed out of his car, ‘I guess technically I haven’t been pulled over for drunk driving this time either. Nope, I delivered myself right to the fuzz.’

When Bill had been at his drinking prime back in eighties the D.C. metro area had been replete with sobriety checks. Oddly enough whenever he’d had too much to drink he hadn’t encountered the quasi-constitutional road blocks and when he had found himself queued up to self-incriminate he’d been plenty sober to be waved through. This time was different, because despite his technically correct answer that he’d only had two drinks that day he feared the possibility that he would indeed fail this test and that that failure would preclude him from carrying on with his mission of getting to Gabrielle.

Bill also knew that cops enjoyed word games as much as he did. Thinking of Davie’s earlier reassurance concerning his two friends’ well-being he thought, ‘I really hope this guy was sincere when he said Gabrielle was okay.’

Officer Davies held the breathalyzer and gave curt instructions on its use. Once he had complied with the first requirement Bill began to think that perhaps he was in a bad television cop show as he was told to walk a straight line, alternately touch his nose with first one index finger and then the next while keeping his eyes closed and then to balance on alternate legs.

When he’d proactively started to do the finger to nose routine he discovered that even in cooperation he sent red flags up the tight ass cop’s spine. “I see you’ve done this before,” Davies said.

“No. I’ve just seen it on TV and in the movies. You’re my first.”

Advancing age plus anxiety sent off alarm bells in Bill’s head concerning the balance test and he nervously reported, “You do know that I’m sixty four years old? My balance isn’t what it used to be.”

“Not a problem, sir. The test accommodates for age.”

Finished with the test Davies checked the breathalyzer and announced, “Okay. Thanks for your cooperation. Let’s go see if the Gibeons would like comfort and aid, shall we.”

‘Wow! I can’t believe that I missed that bullet,’ he thought while stating with a smile, “That would be great. I told you I wasn’t drunk.”

“You did say that, and you are below the point oh eight DUI limit. But you’re definitely above the point oh four DWI.”

Too Good 125

Tags

"Get out of the car please- sir", “The best defense is a good offense.”, Bill Finger, Drunk Driving, Gabrielle, Officer Chuck Davies

“The best defense is a good offense.”

The word offense can be pronounced as aw-fens or uh-fens. When applied to war, sports or strategy, as in the above quote, the word is accented on the second syllable and pronounced aw-fens, but an infraction of the law is termed an uh-fens. When Bill was faced with a likely field sobriety test both meanings of the word became highly relevant to him.

The last half hour had seen him engage in single minded pursuit of reaching Gabrielle and coming to her assistance. His sleep had been interrupted twice, once with news that broke his heart and then less than two hours later with a report that terrified him. Gabrielle was in trouble, his goal was to help her and this supposed agent of the law stood barring the door as he made sure that he’d dotted his “I’s” and crossed his “T’s.” These circumstances along with the alcohol he had consumed combined in a way that sent Bill into frustrated turmoil.

Cool under fire was something he prided in himself and it appeared that the time may have arrived for him to go on the offense. Seething internally he merely looked to his nemesis and asked, “Have I been drinking? Is there a reason that you ask or what? I need to see Gabrielle, officer.”

“Mr. Finger, I asked you a simple question and you haven’t answered it. Have you been drinking tonight?”

Bill had spent a lot of time in court. He’d seen countless people get in big trouble because they had either lied to the cops or perjured themselves. ‘Answers that are truthful but misleading are not lies,’ he thought. ‘I need a truthful yet dissembling answer.’

“Yes, Officer Davies,” he responded after quickly checking the cop’s name tag. “I had two drinks today. Is there a problem with that? I’m definitely not drunk.” ‘The day began at midnight and that’s how many White Russians I’ve drunk- drank?-since then.’

Cops, of course, hear a lot of bunk. “Glad to hear it. Get out of the car please, sir.”

Frustrated, distraught and anxious Bill’s brain was overtaxed. ‘How the hell do I get around this joker?’ Thinking back to the last thing he did before leaving his house he also remembered mitigating factors on DUI charges. ‘Should I play the mouthwash card or is that just going to waste more time?’ “Is this really nece-”

“Mr. Finger? I have an assault case to investigate. You claim that you are here to give comfort and aid to the victim. Great. If you cooperate with me we can both get back to doing what we’re here for, me investigating, you comforting. If you won’t cooperate I can just have you blow into the breathalyzer and then put you in the back of my squad car until another officer can appear. Shouldn’t take more than an hour would be my guess. Now what’ll it be? Cooperation and speed, or you throwing a wrench into me helping your friend?”

Boxed in and faced with one possible avenue that might lead to his goal Bill looked at Davies, smiled and asked, “How can I help, Officer?”

Too Good 124

Tags

" Have you been drinking?”, Adrenaline, Bill Finger, Ethanol, Fight or Flee, Gabrielle, Officer Chuck Davies

A mind filled with adrenaline and ethanol combined with a reflexive reaction to trauma that subsequently creates a fight or flee physiological response creates a human being who is likely going to find great difficulty exerting self-control. When Officer Davies commanded Bill to stay in his car he was already reaching for the door handle in order to make a speedy exit with the intent of bounding up the driveway in search of Gabrielle. Ironically, it was his seat belt that saved him.

Fastening his seat belt had become second nature to Bill decades earlier and was so ingrained as to be nearly instinctual. In the back of his mind he knew that obeying the cop’s order was the smart thing to do but it wasn’t only his car that had been red-lining for the previous quarter hour, it had been Bill as well.

Making split second decisions was something he prided himself on and he knew that getting in a pissing match with a cop would do nothing but bring his quest to help Gabrielle to a screeching halt. He started to say something but instead acceded to the officer’s request, closing his door, turning his car key enough to operate the power windows and then lowering the one nearest him.

Realizing that pugnacious argument would lead him away from his desired path rather than towards it he took a cleansing breath and explained that he was a friend of the victim and had been called to come to her rescue. The officer’s reply of, “License and registration please,” nearly broke his resolve to be civil but he bit his tongue. ‘Greater good,’ he told himself, reaching into the glove compartment for the registration and then his wallet for his license and insurance card.

There is a scientific debate concerning the nature of time and its rate of change. Some hold that time is a constant while others a variable. The few minutes that Officer Davies spent in running Bill through the computer came down heavily in the time is a variable school: Bill could not remember a longer 300 second interval.

Returning to the Lincoln the cop handed Bill his license through the window and said, “Here’s your license and registration, sir. Everything seems to be in order. Let me put your mind at ease concerning Mrs. Gibeon. She seems fine and after we talk to her and her friend that phoned in the 911 you should be able to speak with her.”

The look of relief that washed over Bill brought a small nod from Davies that Bill hoped was an indication that he understood why Bill had driven as he had and that all was, if not forgiven, then at least to be ignored. This balloon of hope burst quickly when Davie’s asked, “I do have one question though. Have you been drinking?”

Simple Hymn

Tags

"Holy God We Praise Thy Name", Faith, Fathers, Fear, Hymns, Prayer, Skeptics, Song

Heartache and sorrow battle within,
Pain in my soul soothed by simple hymn.
Church of my father, faith that he loved,
Bringing me solace from anointed dove.

Too often the skeptic of Thomas’ ilk;
Must place hand in His wounds lest I be bilked.
Mind that is seething and spinning round,
How can I know peace when heart’s battleground?

Worship in church or under the stars,
Sometimes cold reason creates prison bars.
Know without knowing sounds like Buddhist koan;
When logic deludes we must let our minds roam.

Singing, “Everlasting is Thy Reign:”
Father’s song leaves me calmed and fears contained.

Too Good 123

Tags

"I was doing 80 when I slammed on the brakes”, 63 mph in a 25 mph zone, Bill Finger, Mistic View Court, Officer Chuck Davies, Reckless Driving, Tires Squealing

Briardale Road is festooned with 1970’s era upper middle class homes built back when Rockville had been considered a balance point for those searching for suburban splendor while still retaining easy access to the wonders of the D.C. Metro area. Unquestionably a residential street with its 25 MPH speed limit it was also a direct link between Shady Grove and Redland Roads. Bill exceeded the posted speed limit by a mere 250%; an infraction that would almost certainly either cost him his license, astronomical attorney fees or both were he to encounter law enforcement along the way.

Fortunately for him Rockville’s finest had better things to do at two in the very earliest part of a Thursday morning than station patrol cars on residential roads. Unfortunately the curve at Briardale and Frontenac Terrace was designed to be taken at a far more leisurely pace than sixty five miles per hour.

“We started drinking wasn’t thinking too straight, I was doing 80 when I slammed on the brakes,” Bill misquoted Eddie Money’s lyrics as the tail end of his Lincoln swerved first to the right and then when he counter steered to the left. “‘Yeah she was shaking, snapping her fingers, she was moving round and round,’” he continued as he rounded the curve and saw the stop sign up ahead for Redland Road.

Adrenaline flowing, Bill slowed considerably as he came to the Redland Stop sign, looked to his left and seeing no headlights approaching made the turn through the intersection with tires squealing in protest. An objective observer would have to admit that while noisy he had run the stop sign with all four wheels touching the ground.

He made the next to last turn and accelerated northward on Needwood, a street with a greater proportion of high density row houses, condominiums and apartments than large, single family estates. Rounding the final left curve prior to turning right up Mistic View Court his tires again sang out as he made his final approach to Gabrielle’s home. Because of the houses he did not see the flashing blue police lights nor the red ones of the ambulance until he rounded the curve on Mistic.

The vision that the lights impregnated into Bill’s imagination was that of either a dead or dying Gabrielle. Had he been sober he might have realized that the police officer standing at the end of the Gibeon’s driveway had just reached for his gun holster in response to the noise Bill’s erratic driving was creating.

Barreling down the street, suffering from the tunnel vision that a damsel in distress call had created in him, he was oblivious to anything other than his need to save Gabrielle. If sober he might have seen the shocked and worried faces on the score of pedestrians that stood in clumps outside Gabrielle’s door. He might even have seen that Gabrielle herself was inside the ambulance that was producing the on again off again red glare that made observation just a bit more difficult.

Booze and concern for his friend prevented him from making many fine observations that were available to him but he definitely heard an irate voice declare, “Stop right there, mister! Stay in your car!” and felt his pupils contract as a bright light was simultaneously shined in his eyes.

 

Too Good 122

Tags

Bethesda Maryland, Bill Finger, Drunk Driving, Interstate Highways, Prayer, Profanity, To the Rescue

Interstate 270 is the major spur linking Washington D.C. and north-central Maryland. The beltway surrounding the United States’ capital intersects I 270 at Bethesda, Maryland. Bethesda sits where 11:00 o’clock would appear on an analog watch and 270 proceeds northwest to Frederick where it meets up with I 70 thirty plus miles later. Bill’s house was separated from the Gibeon’s by less than 20 miles and most of his travel would be via interstate highway with a posted speed limit of 55 mph.

For the majority of the day travel between the two locales would take far longer than the approximately 22 minute answer that would satisfy an inquisitive algebra teacher. However, one or two in the morning on a weekday does lend itself to driving faster than the posted limit.

Heading south Old Hundred Road was the last street Bill hit prior to I 270 and the speed at which he was traveling created a double entendre concerning the “hundred” part of the two lane’s name. Drunkenness and dexterity both begin with “D” but so does death. Passing under I 270 Bill took the southerly leading left turn at a rate that almost landed him the ditch.

“Shit!” he screamed at himself. “Slow down, fool! You’re no good to anybody dead!”

Self-admonition aside, once he was on the ramp he accelerated as quickly as his powerful four door would allow and again had trouble navigating the slight bend that fed him to the interstate. He looked down at his speedometer, repeated his earlier exclamation concerning feces and eased off the gas slightly.

“Come on, sweetie, come on,” he intoned, not sure if he was speaking to Gabrielle or the Town Car. “Just hold on until I get there!”

Brain befuddled or not, coming to the rescue was what Bill Finger lived for. He’d always been adroit at lifesaving, though typically his talents were used to keep someone from swirling down a drain to oblivion. Tonight was one of the few times that his lifesaving ministrations might be literal rather than metaphorical.

“Oh, Jesus,” he blurted, half prayer, half profanity, “please keep her safe.

“Caroline?” he cried, speaking to his departed wife, “If there’s anything you can do to help her now’s the time, honey. “I know I failed you,” he added, tears streaming from his eyes, “and I know I’ve made a mess of things with this girl and screwed up with Sean but please help me if you can; okay? She deserves a break.”

The Interstate 270/I 370 exchange is complicated and busy and even with his intoxication Bill knew he should slow down. He did, some, but in his state of semi sobriety any speed was likely excessive. The next exit was Shady Grove Road and Bill careened off the highway traveling hard and fast with little thought about where he was or whom he was endangering.

Too Good 121

Tags

Bill Finger, Caffeine's Effect on Drunkenness, Drunk Driving, Drunken Reasoning, Duvan Diaz, Gabrielle, To the Rescue

In movies, books and television someone frequently comes up with the idea to give a drunk coffee in order to sober him up. Alcohol is a depressant and the caffeine in coffee a stimulant but coffee can no more reduce drunkenness than can water. Only time and the metabolic function of the liver can bring the inebriated back to sobriety. Forcing a drunk to consume a pot of coffee simply creates a wide awake drunk with a very active bladder.

Over the course of a two hour period Bill had managed to pass out twice from alcohol consumption. While nowhere near dead drunk he was certainly far from sober. Duvan’s phone call had confused him for several reasons, not the least of which had been the drug induced sleep that Bill had been jarred awake from. The confusion intensified when he’d grasped that though it was Gabrielle’s phone that had called him it was not his love interest and object of desire on the other end but rather his casual friend Duvan Diaz.

Comprehension of the nature and dynamics of Gabrielle’s needs came to him slowly but in the end we had a wide awake, practically naked drunk who was ready to spring to action. All he had to do was clear enough fog from his mind to allow him to take steps that would lead him in the direction he wished to travel.

“Okay, Billy-boy, what’s first?” he asked himself as he brought his recliner to an upright position and found the doubles glass still clenched in his right hand. He looked at the glass, shakily stood and placed the empty tumbler on the den’s bar as he headed to his bedroom.

“Clothes. Get dressed,” he said, looking down at the robe he was wearing. He threw the robe on the same spot on his bed as he had his suit jacket roughly six hours earlier and gathered socks and underwear from the dresser along with pants, a polo and shoes from the closet. Walking into the bathroom he splashed water on his face, gargled with mouthwash and then before slipping into his clothes took a quick look in the mirror. Inhaling deeply he blew up his cheeks as he released his breath, blinked hard, shook his head vigorously three times before returning to the bedroom where he grabbed his keys, phone and wallet from the night stand by the bed.

“‘Just hold on, I’m coming! Just hold on!’” he sang in a poor parody of Sam and Dave. “And that ain’t blowing sunshine up your skirt!”

Hurrying down the stairs he stumbled and nearly fell but managed to save himself by grabbing the banister. “Whoa. Easy, old boy. Won’t do anybody any good if the cavalry breaks its neck going break neck speed.”

He ran to the garage, fired up his Town Car, hit the remote that opened the garage door and then hit it again as he sped out of the garage and down the driveway on Regina Court. It might have behooved him to remember his self-admonishment concerning excess speed but while his car was firing on all cylinders Bill’s brain certainly was not.