“Because why?” she asked.
“I just wanted to be by myself. Is that too much to ask without having everyone breathing down my neck about it?”
There was a long pause on the other end. Mom took a deep breath. “Yes, David. I’m sorry to say, but it is too much to ask. You gave up that right a couple of months ago.” Her voice was calm, sympathetic.
Wishing he could just lash out at her for what she’d said, he knew he had no right. She had a point. Not a great one, but a point.
“You’re right. I should’ve just answered the phone and told you I was here, but I wanted to be alone.”
“I assumed that’s what it was after what happened yesterday, but I didn’t know for sure.”
“Because of what…” He was confused. What was she talking about?
“About what happened to your boss, George. David, please tell me you haven’t forgotten about that.”
He had, until she reminded him just now, forgotten about it completely. What was wrong with him? How could that, of all things, have slipped his mind?
He lied. “No, of course not, I was just trying not to think about it.”
“I understand that. And I understand that you need your time, but we were all just so worried.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“Sam was really worried. She said she went to the store and you left without saying good-bye.”
Was that how it had happened? He couldn’t quite recall. She was there, all right, but had no reason to be. He just couldn’t remember all the details.
“I’ll call her and apologize.”
“That would be the wise thing to do.”
He wanted to hang up the phone as quickly as possible. It was only a matter of time before she asked.
“Have you used the angel board yet?”
Too late.
David’s spine ignited with a cold chill that caused him to cramp near his kidneys. “Um…”
“You have, haven’t you?”
He’d never been good at lying to his mother. When he was sixteen, he couldn’t lie to her then either. Penny Harrison, twenty-five, began working at Paddocks retirement home with Carol Barker. She was a recent divorcee, in a new town, a stranger to everyone. David’s mom, being the kind of person she was, quickly took Penny in and made her feel right at home. Inviting her to dinner, engagements, trips to the park with her and the kids.
When summer rolled around, Penny had no means to mow her own yard. No lawn mower or a man to do the job. She was broke, struggling just to make ends meet. So Carol had taken it upon her generous self to volunteer David. They had an old push-mower that they never used, so one Saturday, they packed it up in the back of the car and Carol drove the mower and David to Penny’s and left them.
Big mistake.
That day became the day David lost his virginity. Penny, confused and lonely, seduced him—which wasn’t hard considering he was an erection on two legs. But what came later was something neither of them expected. They began to care for one another.
When school rolled around, Penny had considered him her boyfriend. Their liaison was a secretive one, and David thought they were doing a decent job of keeping it hidden. He was wrong. Somehow, Mom had figured it all out. And put an end to it immediately.
Penny moved to her mother’s in Florida, and he’d never seen or heard a peep from her since. To this day, he wasn’t sure whatever had happened to her. It took David a long time to forgive his mother for what she did, but he never forgot, nor truly got over it. There’d be days where he’d find himself thinking about Penny, wondering what she was doing and if she were missing him as much as he was her.
He liked to think that she was.
And now, even in his thirties, as much as he wished he could, he couldn’t lie to the woman. “I guess so…”
“Did it work?”
Again, he wanted to lie, tell her it was phony, over-hyped. “Yeah, it worked.” He looked over at the table, considered telling her more, but luckily he stopped himself. She already knew too much, the rest needed to remain surreptitious.
“And, how do you feel?” she asked.
He smiled. This he didn’t mind answering. “Honestly, I feel great.”
“I knew you would. What did the two of you talk about?”
Now she was prying, but he’d expected this much. Mom was good at that, wanting more when she only deserved a little. But not this time. “It was nice talking to you, Mom, but I’m cooking breakfast, so I’ve gotta go.”
“Breakfast?” she asked, as if she’d never heard of such nonsense.
“Yeah, breakfast. It is only the most important meal of the day.”
“Har-har, smarty pants.”
“I already got the burner going, so I’m hopping off here. Love you, bye.” He pressed the button before she could say anything and hurled the phone across the room. It exploded into bits against the wall. No one could interrupt him now. He wanted more time alone with Natasha, without distractions.
And damn it, he was going to get it one way or another.
Chapter Thirteen
“You’re late,” said Giles without looking up from his side of the desk. The Office Warehouse file lay spread out in front of him. In his hand was one of the myriad crime photos of George Snowberger’s mangled corpse.
Stiltson put what was left of his coffee and cigarettes on the desk. “Yeah, I know. Traffic was hell. It won’t ever happen again, Pop, I promise.” He smiled innocently and batted his eyelashes.
Giles glanced up, shook his head. “Well, let’s see that it doesn’t. I don’t want to have to tell your mother how you’ve been acting.”
Stiltson laughed as he sat down in his chair. It squeaked under his mass. The screws holding it together were getting old, worn out, but he wasn’t ready to give up the chair. He’d parked his butt in this cushion for fifteen years, and wasn’t planning to stop any time soon. A trip to the hardware store for some new screws and bolts was in order.
Their desks were arranged in the usual way, pushed against each other. The two men sat across from one another while they worked. It was just easier that way. Though Giles had said many times he didn’t mind the arrangement, he was quick to add a little privacy wouldn’t hurt. But, being on the main floor of the police station as they were, didn’t leave them much room for solitude. They had to take it or leave it.
Stiltson had had many partners over the years, and each one kept their desk pressed against his. He felt it was an easier way to share the workload. Two minds hard at work could find a lead better than one any day. Being this close together made it impossible not to stay focused on what they were doing.
Seeing the Snowberger file displayed on the desk in disarray made Stiltson grimace. All he could see were black and whites of the man’s body exhibited on the concrete floors like a dissected frog in biology class. Slashed open, blood-sodden, every vital artery split and drained. Mr. Snowberger hadn’t stood a chance. When Stiltson first saw the corpse, he pinpointed right away that the poor bastard had died a slow and very painful death.
“What’s up?” asked Stiltson, referencing the morbid material.
Nose in the file, Giles answered, “Not much. Just looking over some things. I couldn’t sleep last night. Something about how the victim died just doesn’t add up right. I couldn’t get it out of my head. Been looking for any minor detail we might have missed all morning.”
“Are you sure you just weren’t fixated on Ms. Corban?”
Giles blushed. “A little, but that wasn’t why I couldn’t sleep.”
Stiltson laughed softly. “I thought so.” Stiltson had wanted to have a chat with Giles about his behavior around girls for a long time. Having been his partner for over five years had allotted him many chances to study his characteristics. Giles seemed to be a nervous ninny around them. Avoided eye contact at all cost. Stiltson often wondered if Giles had to pay for sex. Wouldn’t surpri
se him if he did. Giles was a sensitive person, good guy, and very calm and gentle. “What’s been bothering you about the case?”
“Everything.” Giles dropped the photo on the rubble. Leaning back in his chair, he bent his arms at the elbow and interlaced his fingers behind his head. “I just don’t see how any accident, no matter how freakish, could be so damn accurate.”
“That’s one thing that makes them accidents, Giles. No one can be so accurate intentionally. It’s ludicrous to think so.”
“Assassins are accurate.”
“Are you saying George Snowberger was assassinated by a cardboard bale?”
“No. The wires of the cardboard bale.”
“Oh, jeez.”
“Just think about it, put it all in your head and hit blend. Can you find any point of logic in all this mess?”
Stiltson thought about the wires. How they’d stabbed into Snowberger’s body. The lacerations. Deep, rugged slashes that had bled him dry. The man had suffered horribly.
Giles was right that it didn’t add up. But Stiltson wasn’t ready to believe it was a form of sabotage, or intentional murder.
“You’re right, Giles. It doesn’t make any sense at all. But it’s still too hard to fathom that it was premeditated.”
“I know…which bugs me too.” Giles sounded frustrated, like a kid being lectured about sex and alcohol by their parent. “It’s all I’ve got to go on, though.”
“What is?”
“That the whole thing is too fucked to be premeditated, but also so perfect it can’t be just some random accident.”
Stiltson chuckled. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re a good detective. If you smell something that stinks, I have to give you the benefit of the doubt. You know I’ll back you up.”
“Thanks, John.”
“No problem. So, thrill me.”
“Really want to know my theory?”
“Yes.”
Giles seemed tentative about divulging his speculations at first, but he went on anyway. “I think that somehow, though I haven’t connected all the wires—no pun intended—that David Barker is either directly or indirectly involved.”
“I thought you would say something like that.”
“I’m that obvious to read, huh?”
“I’m a good detective too, remember?”
“Eh, I wear my heart on my sleeve. I guess that means I shave with my suspicions.”
Stiltson laughed at the analogy. “I suppose so. But that doesn’t mean that he had anything to do with it.”
“What do you think?” asked Giles, leaning in as if Stiltson were about to unleash infinite wisdom of the highest degree.
“I think it’s too early to tell. That’s why I don’t want to close the case. Too many unanswered questions.” Shrugging, he held out his arms to tell Giles: Don’t sue me for not knowing shit.
Giles sighed, crashing backward into his chair. He stared at the ceiling. Stiltson could see the gears grinding again inside his head.
“Why don’t you take a walk, partner? Grab a coffee or something.”
Giles nodded, “That sounds like a good idea. I might step outside for a minute, get some air.”
“Take your coat. It’s colder than a witch’s left tit out there.” Stiltson grabbed the cup of Carrie’s fantastic coffee and sucked down what was left. Saddened that it was all gone, he pondered once again over whether or not he should go back on his lunch break. He had a good reason as to why he should. He needed more coffee. And he’d promised to tell her what he thought of it.
See how the day goes, he told himself. If you end up on that side of town, it was meant for you to stop by. If you have to make the trip happen, you’re forcing it.
He nodded, agreeing with himself.
Giles rolled his chair back, stood up, and stretched. “I’ll be back in a few.” He grabbed his coat from the rack beside their desks.
“Take your time.”
Giles walked away as he pushed his arms through the sleeves of his coat. He disappeared amidst the thick crowd of cops and detectives scattering about in a frenzy, shouting over this and that. It was actually a slow day at the station, but no one would believe it.
Sitting at the partnered desks alone, Stiltson wished he had joined Giles outside. He wanted to smoke. Things were stale at the moment, and he had the time. He crumpled the coffee cup into a ball, raised his hand above his head like a basketball player, and shot. The smashed ball soared. It struck the wall above the trashcan and dropped inside.
Old man’s still got it.
He checked the pocket of his coat to make sure his keys were inside. He’d need them to get back in through the back door after he smoked. Thankfully, he hadn’t taken his coat off when arriving. It was heavy and thick, a true pain in the ass to haul around back and forth. Plus, he’d still been feeling the effects of the cold weather outside, but now his body had adjusted to the indoor environment.
And he was going to go right back out into the cold and shock his body again with that bitter chill.
As he was about to leave, the phone on his desk chimed, startling him. He nearly cried out, but thankfully didn’t. The boys would have never let that one slide if they’d heard him.
He lifted the receiver. The phone was a classic, corded unit. Two rows of flashing buttons at the bottom, and the keypad just above. “Stiltson.”
“Detective Stiltson?” The voice was female and familiar, raspy, and a little shaky.
“Yes,” he confirmed.
“Hi, this is Samantha Corban.”
“Oh, yes.” Now he was interested. He leaned over the desk, bracing himself on his elbows while keeping the phone pressed firmly to his ear. She had his attention. “I remember you from yesterday.”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
She really sounded bad. Stuffy, making her speech awfully nasally. Not the same sweet voice he’d enjoyed so much yesterday. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know how to say this…” She stopped, as if silently rehearsing it in her head.
“Just say it, that’s the easiest way to say something.”
She sniffled. He could tell she’d been crying. His heart ached for her. Not in a sexual way. There was a fatherly motivation to it. He imagined her sweet face, puffy from emotions she couldn’t control. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly wanted to punch the nearest asshole he could find.
“It’s David…”
“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. What about him?” He braced the phone between his shoulder and cheek. Pulling his arms out from the sleeves of his coat, he listened.
“Yesterday, I noticed he was acting very strange.”
“He’s normally not so chipper?”
“Not at all.”
“Well, it can be a normal reaction to trauma. Sometimes people act in such a way in denial of the tragic events.” Routine textbook crap that caused bile to rise in the back of his throat as he recited it. He wanted to speak candidly with her, not tiptoe around it.
“That’s not what I mean…”
“Then say what you mean, please.” He tossed his coat onto Giles’ chair. It spun around from the impact.
“He is—was—manic depressive. Yesterday, none of us could reach him after he left the store. His mom tried, I tried, his sister tried, but he ignored us.”
“Okay…” He could hear the sheer anxiety of her words. The tone caused him to listen to each syllable very closely.
“Needless to say, we were pretty worried.”
“I bet. Did anyone reach him?”
“Yeah, his mom, finally, just a little while ago.”
“Well, what’s the problem?”
“Now I can’t reach him again.”
He heard the clatter of her phone as it was pulled away from her. She sobbed. He knew it was her attempting to keep him from hearing it. Then came the brief sound of her blowing her no
se.
“Ms. Corban?”
After a few more hushed sobs, she took some deep breaths to calm down. Then she returned to the phone. “Sorry, I just can’t control myself this morning.”
“It’s all right.” He listened to her sniffling, wiping her tears. He heard the rustle of tissue whisking over the phone. “Let me ask you something.”
“Y-Yeah.” Her voice was trembling.
“Why did you call me?”
“I thought…I don’t know…” She sounded confused, as if unsure why she actually had called.
“You think there’s more to it than what we saw on the scene yesterday, don’t you?”
“I don’t know if it’s all that.” Now she sounded clearer, focused. “I was just hoping you might keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
“I’m not sure what I can do for you, Ms. Corban.”
“Sam.”
“I’m sorry. Sam. What I mean is, I can’t spy on him.”
“I know. I was hoping you’d check in on him. He’s not answering his phone when I call. And I’m sure he wouldn’t answer the door if I came by.”
“I hate to be blunt, but have you thought maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to you?”
“Yes, I have. Which is why I’m calling you. He won’t talk to his family, but I’m sure he’ll have no choice but to talk to you. But you can’t let him know that I asked you.”
As much he’d like to have eluded all of this, he couldn’t do it. Somewhere inside, he was being tugged to do this for her. She’d called him for help. Obviously, she had no one else to turn to, so she came to him. It’d be a lousy thing to do if he ignored her request.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do. Honestly, I have to follow up with him anyway before the New Year, so maybe I’ll just bump it up to much sooner.”
“Thank you…thank you so much.” She paused to use the tissue again.
Angel Board Page 9
