Marshall Law

by Paul Kilmartin

  Marshall leaned over, and saw to this horror, a thin black cable, securely tied to a very strong steel eyelet. The entire thing was supporting the black wire that was moving about down below, shunting, to and fro, in the wind. The gust was blowing hard, into and around the eyelids of Detective Marshall and he struggled to identify the exact makeup of the cabling and the eyelet of steel. He strained, ever more, hoping to see just one thing, when it appeared to him, in a swash of red. There, across the length of cable, was stitching of red, running down its entire stretch, towards the frayed ending. Lance crawled back and sat up and against the cable housing, looking back towards Ed. He sat against the shed with his palm outstretched, wondering what had driven the color from Lance's face.

  One question had been answered, but a frightening dawn was being realized by the veteran Detective.

  The two Detectives climbed down through the chute, and Ed asked of Lance again.

  ‘What did you see? You're starting to freak me out, Boss.’

  Lance didn’t answer. He pulled his small Nokia phone from his pocket and called McIntosh.

  He had no time for hello.

  ‘It’s Marshall. Do one thing for me, right now. Turn the body over and tell me what you see, no matter how gruesome it is, tell me.’

  He waited, and looking at Ed, closed his eyes, as, after a slow minute, McIntosh reported the news back to him, before hanging up.

  Lance hit the end call button and looked at Ed.

  ‘McIntosh, says that the Vic is wearing a red hooded top, that has been slashed open, from neck to navel.'

  It was an answer, but not precisely the one that Marshall was expecting to hear. He turned away, and walking towards the elevator, scratched at his neck.

  ‘It doesn’t make any sense. Why would the killer go to such lengths?’

  Ed mimicked the actions of his colleague and stood to scratch his neck, right behind the ear. He blew out some air and then held his hands out.

  ‘I don’t know what’s happening here Lance, fill me in.’

  ‘I don't even know myself, Ed, not yet. It does not make a lick of sense,’

  The Detective cleared his eyes and tried to regain a sense of focus.

  ‘I need you to find security and go through all of that footage and find me an image of whoever was up on this roof last night. There has to be something, somewhere,’

  Marshall walked towards the sealed window beside the elevator door and looked out onto the park.

  ‘And bring me to the room of this guy, William Burges.’

  Ed Johnson brought Marshall to the stairwell, and the two men walked two flights down to the fifth floor. There, he led the Detective to a room, two doors up from the stairs, and into a private bedroom. From the doorjamb, Ed turned to Marshall.

  ‘You are on your own now Chief. He kicked me out of his room yesterday.’

  ‘Kicked you out? How? Why?’

  ‘He was sick of my questions, and told me to fuck off,’

  Ed shrugged his shoulders. He had found the response to be fair enough.

  ‘I will wait out here while you go in and talk to him.’

  Lance slowly walked through the open doorway and saw a man sitting by the window in a comfortable green couch chair. He was older but capable. To his right, he had a small bookshelf and a walking frame beside that, and it faced towards the door. The bookcase was full of photographs of people with smiling faces. A very unsmiling face had now turned and was looking straight at the Detective.

  ‘She said that you might come alright.’

  He looked away and backed out towards the park.

  ‘Who said?’

  Marshall stood near the door.

  ‘You know. Don’t be a putz. And close the door, eh? I don’t want a draft to get in.’

  Feeling desperately confused, Marshall closed the door and walked a little closer, towards the bookcase, but still far enough away from the man in the chair.

  Lance went a little direct

  ‘What are you looking at?’

  The older man answered, and pointed out.

  ‘I’d shoot them if I could.’

  ‘The people?’

  Marshall wondered if it was really that wise to have wandered into a patient’s room before asking his Nurse. He wondered if maybe the man had some sort of delusions or hallucinations.

  ‘The people? What’s the matter with you? The people. That’s some statement from a Cop. The people? The vermin, the pigeons. I’d shoot the pigeons. The people? And you are supposed to be the Detective in charge of all of this?’

  He waved a hand at the Park, and the tents and the Cops that wandered around like little beans.

  ‘You know who I am?’

  The old man turned away from the window and taking off his glasses, urged the Detective to come closer.

  ‘Are you senile Detective Marshall?’ Marla Raye? You know? Ringing any bells? I know you know her. I mean, I remember her,’

  He moved his hands into the shape of two semi-circles and held them up in front of his own chest.

  ‘She told me that you would be around to ask me some questions?

  I’m William Burges. You are Lance Marshall, right? That’s who you are, I remember. The Detective, yeah I know who you are.

  Of course, Marshall thought.

  William Burges was the other resident. The one who had been hospitalized.

  She must have given him a heads up, or he had given it to himself.

  ‘That’s me. Just less of the, you know. Ok?’

  Lance made the gesture of rounding his hands, and that he wasn’t okay with Marla Raye being spoken of like that. William dismissed Marshall and put his glasses back on, looking back out the window.

  ‘I hope you two aren’t as coy around each other. Don’t waste much of anything on doubt, Detective, trust me.’

  Marshall wondered if Marla Raye had said anything else in her visits to William Burges, but the thoughts distracted him and he shook them aside.

  ‘I was told that you think you saw something in the park, something suspicious.’

  ‘You have no idea.’

  Burges let the words sink in, and turned to see the Detective staring at him.

  ‘Do you know how much all of that is worth? The land?’

  ‘The park? Couple of million. It’s not that big, and you can’t build anything on it. Maybe less. Half a million.’

  Burges laughed, a warm, hearty laugh.

  ‘You’re looking at it from the outside in. It’s all about perspective Detective.’

  ‘I suppose that something of value is worth more to some than others.'

  ‘Value is value. No matter who looks at it. The thing that's more valuable is your will, to make it so.'

  Marshall didn’t know where this was going, so he redirected Burges.

  ‘Did you see anything suspicious in the Park these past few nights? Suspicious people, perhaps. Or did you hear anything suspicious?’

  Burges turned in his chair, sat back and crossed his legs. It was clear that he was waiting for Detective Marshall and had rehearsed very clearly, what he was going to say.

  ‘When I tell you, Detective, I don't need you to ask me am I sure, and all of that BS. If I am telling you, I am telling you, and that's that. Get it?'

  Marshall saw the stamp being put on, of what was being mailed to him.

  ‘I don't need you to call the Nurse and have my medications checked. My vision is great, and I don't have any memory problems.' He meant to continue, to talk about the problems he was having with his bladder when Marshall stopped him.

  ‘You saw a man flying by your window last night. A man in red. He flew right past.’

  Burges felt his jaw slacken, and closing it, nodded his head.

  ‘I knew that if she liked you, you must have had something special about you.’

  Marshall felt both glad and worse at the same time.

  ‘A man was attached to a cable and slid down towards the park last night.
He was wearing a red jumper, and as far as I can tell, he slid right down by your window from the roof.'

  Burges looked up, and then out the window. And clapped his hands and beamed.

  ‘I knew it, I knew it.’

  ‘So what exactly happened?’ Marshall asked.

  ‘Well,’ Burges steadied himself and sat up a little more.

  ‘I sleep with the blinds open, though I am not permitted to, I do. So I have it open, and I hear this big pigeon, stomping about, like a noise. You know?' Marshall nodded.

  ‘And the next thing, I hear this shearing, or shuffling, but it’s moving, away. And then this man, like a guy in red, just comes sliding by the window and down towards the park. Unbelievable.’

  ‘And you didn’t call anybody? Tell anybody?’

  ‘Tell anybody? That I’m losing my mind. What’s the first thing they are going to do? Check the park or give me some pills? Now, I’m the normal one. But last night, I would have been the crazy one,’

  Burges looked at the floor.

  ‘Plus, I didn’t know the guy got killed. I figured it was just some sort of a crazy stunt, you know? Kids. Weird kids stuff.’

  ‘I’m sorry William.’

  He shrugged it off and wiped something from the underside of his eyes.

  Marshall chanced a follow-up.

  ‘And this cable? Do you remember if there was a crew putting it up? The cable that went from the hospital to the park. It wasn’t there the day before.’

  ‘Now you mention it, no. I don’t remember ever seeing it before or after.’

  Marshall leaned over and looked out the window of the bedroom and tried to see if he could identify anyone from so high up. Shapes and blurry faces were the best of the bunch, and after that, it was jacketed with MCPD written, in big white lettering on the shoulders.

  ‘What of anyone did you see in the Park, before the guy who slid down, that is?'

  William scratched his chin, and leaned up and over and saw what he could see just then. He squinted and was about to speak when he stopped himself and then looked some more.

  ‘Faces, probably not. But other than that, yeah, I can see just fine.’

  So that made the thoughts of identification a near impossibility of whoever had been sneaking around inside of the Park.

  ‘So, how can you be sure what you saw? I mean, I've been down there, and I don't wear an MCPD jacket,’

  Marshall made a valid point, but the wily old man smiled yet further. He looked at the bookcase and noticed a small porcelain figure of the Virgin Mary, sitting in amongst the picture frames.

  ‘Would you swear on that, that you saw somebody?’ He said, pointing to the statuette.

  ‘Funny you should mention that. It was one of her’s that I saw. That’s how I am so sure.’

  Marshall looked again at the figure of the mother of Jesus and pointing to it, asked,

  ‘It was a saint?’

  ‘No, Detective, it was a priest. I saw his white collar, clear as day.’

  Not a saint, thought Marshall, more of a sinner. Sinner man Father Sean O’Driscoll. So, Father Sean had been sneaking around inside of the Park.

  ‘Did you see who he was with? Or what he was doing? When was this?’

  ‘It was the afternoon before all of that terrible business happened with that man in the red top. And I could tell that his horrible little housekeeper was accompanying him, and they were meeting someone else, but I couldn’t tell you if that was a man or a woman or even a hat stand. He was obscured by the trees in the middle.’

  Father Sean and Jose Dominguez. Though how they could have gained entry when the Park was being watched by Police officers, was less of a mystery and more of an example of how much power that the church had in Metro City.

  ‘I believe you, William.’

  He looked up at Marshall and replied.

  ‘I don’t care if you do or not. Those are the facts,’

  He was blunt and hurt that a man of faith had seemed to be caught up in something, but he was honest, and it was an honesty that was refreshing, for the exasperated Detective.

  ‘And before you go, promise me that you will call on Marla. She was good enough to let me know that you might come looking for me, so do her a favor, and go looking for her.'

  Marshall smiled and realized that he was being politely asked to leave and go somewhere else.

  ‘I’ll do that William. Take care of yourself.’

  The old man continued to look outside and dismissed the Detective with a wave of his hand.

  Lance exited the room and saw Ed leaning up against the wall across from the office. He was fixing for something to say, but also seemed like he was glad to be interrupted by Marshall.

  ‘I'm going back down to the Park. I want you to meet someone from McIntosh's team at the front of the building and wear your God-damn Metro City Detectives badge. And nobody goes up onto that roof unless McIntosh himself goes with them.’

  Marshall was away before Ed had a chance to reply. He had pulled his phone out and was calling for back up.

  ‘Pete, I need you over at the hospital with Ed. Lock it down. No one, in or out, except for emergency access, and staff. Bring hospital management to the door, and have them verify everyone that’s going in and out of the building.’

  Pete Brandt didn’t reply, just paused, and after a second, asked.

  ‘We think the killer is inside Boss? Will I sound the alarm?’

  Lance kept pressing the button, for ground floor to hurry the elevator up, but still, it crawled from five to four to three.

  ‘Not sure. We want to put a net up, just in case. I will know more in a short while. Keep the lines open.’

  The door opened, and Lance’s feet didn’t touch concrete again at the same time until he was outside the building. He stopped, and sprinted to the Police station, hoping to gain access quicker through their gate. He had thought about going back downstairs, through the hospital, but it was a way, unfamiliar to him, and there was no time to waste.

  Lance ran hard, up the steps and through the halls and out the back, through to the most watched gate in Metro City. He passed by a cordon of three cops at the actual entrance, and groups of two more who were on patrol inside of the park. He ran, to where he saw the blue tent and didn't stop until he could shout, and feel confident that he would be heard.

  ‘McIntosh. You there?’

  He walked through a small slit in the tent, which was serving as the door in and out.

  ‘What’s the big hurry Detective?’

  ‘Did your boys find anything else at the scene? Like another mask or anything else unusual?’

  James McIntosh turned around, looking for his colleagues.

  ‘I don't think so. My deputies have all gone inside to the hospital, but no one has reported anything to me. Why do you ask?

  Lance wasn't asking. He was walking around the tent, kicking leaves and tufts of grass, searching for something. McIntosh followed him.

  ‘Have you seen Detective Dawn around? Is she close by?’

  McIntosh looked around him, and upon not confirming the immediate presence of Lindsay, replied.

  ‘I saw her a half an hour ago. She had gotten a call from the station house that the Chief had wanted to speak to her,’

  Marshall held onto that feeling, the one in the gut that wrenches back when it's trying to absorb a blow.

  ‘Everyone has been around this site Detective, with a fine tooth comb.’

  McIntosh continued.

  Lance kicked away, throwing leaves in the air with a swipe of his boot.

  He launched a kick, closer to the hospital wall, and hit into something that wasn't a rock, or a tuft of grass. He kicked at it so hard that it stopped his foot and the impact shot up his right leg, causing him to yelp in pain and jump backward. He fell back, but only had eyes for what he had inadvertently kicked.

  Through pained words, he said,

  ‘I'm going to need to speak to whoever searched this s
ection.’ said Marshall, as he looked upon a steel eyelet with a black cable and a frayed end, that had been securely tied to it.

  ANYONE’S GAME

  Marshall sat across from the most junior crime scene investigator that Metro City had, and tried so desperately hard not to ask him how to ease the pain, that he was feeling in his foot.

  ‘Frozen peas,’ He said, unprompted.

  You hurt your foot, I can tell how you walked when you brought me in here.’

  The two men sat in Interview Room 3 in the confines of the Metro City Police Department building.

  ‘You know lots of things so.’

  Marshall said, but just looked at the kid, waiting for the silence to build.

  He was twenty-two, just out of college, and was into the third dimension of how he was going to style his hair for the rest of his life. One and two were put there by his parents, but this third one, the gelled bouffant mop top, was all him. And he kept touching it, which was bothering Lance.

  ‘I get paid to know lots of things. But why I am in here, that I don't know. But still, I am getting paid.'

  He smirked and touched his hair.

  Marshall leaned a little back in his chair.

  ‘Well you work for me, and we both work for the City, so right now, I am your boss. So I am paying you to answer my questions.’

  No harm was done. He still hadn't hit the prick.

  ‘Then this isn't a massive waste of my time Detective. Do you know that I was in the middle of one thing when your colleague demanded that I come with her and start lifting fingerprints from a stairwell? Do you realize how much you may have jeopardized this case?’

  ‘I did? How so?’ Marshall asked.

  C’mon smart guy. Tie yourself up in a big red bow for me. Lance urged.

  ‘How so? Well, I was identifying blood splatter, which proved that the body had come from a great height.’

  ‘We knew that already. The body was found in a locked place that was being guarded. It could only have come in from up top.’