BURDEN OF AN ANCIENT OATH

by Joshua Brown

Hank Stamos and I went way back. We both started our careers around the same time, and where he went up the chain of command within the NYPD, I found my way into personal detective work. Being partners once, we had an almost inseparable bond, and more than once, we got each other out of hot water.

  “Hank, yeah, sorry to bother you this early. I’m in a bit of a pickle,” the words left my lips, not realizing the implications it might have on his thoughts.

  “What’s wrong? Where are you? I’ll get a car down to you immediately,” he near shouted.

  “No, no, it’s nothing like that,” I replied, trying to calm him down. “I’ve just got a personal issue at work that’s moving onto my staff. You remember Lauren?”

  “The redhead working your front desk? How could anyone forget that bombshell,” he said. I suppose he thought the threat wasn’t as bad since it wasn’t directed at me.

  “Yeah, her. Look, we’ve got a situation with a case I’m working on. Some high profile stuff that’s reaching all the way back to the Crossley murders in the 1980s,” I almost hoped dropping the name would get Hank’s cogs firing and he could give me some insight.

  “Crossley murders? Never heard of them,” he said, dashing those dreams. “But yeah, what’s up? And it better be damn important if you’re waking me up in a panic before sunrise.”

  He laughed, so I knew it was all in jest.

  “Whoever we’re chasing is threatening Lauren’s mother. They’ve got a picture of her from inside the house while she’s sleeping. I’m not sure who they are or what they want, but I need you to help that poor woman,” I said.

  “When did this happen?” His jovial nature immediately shifted to serious once more.

  “Not sure, but over the last few days. The threat is serious.”

  “You point me in a direction and I’ll make sure we have eyes on at all times. I know you wouldn’t screw me around with something like this, Jack, so I won’t question it further. But this will be off the books,” Hank replied.

  I knew what he meant. A personal friend asks for police protection; it might look bad on the chief’s record.

  “Of course, Hank. Hey, who knows, you might be able to find something on a cold case that’s seemingly disappeared from existence in the last 30 years,” I chuckled.

  “Well, I’m going to catch a few more hours. I’ll dispatch a car in the morning and make sure there are eyes on her as often as possible.”

  “That’s a good idea,” I said, the smug grin growing at the corners of my lips. “We all know how you get when you don’t have enough sleep, you big baby.”

  Hank just laughed.

  “I’ll talk to you soon, man. We should make plans sometime, Betty and the kids are missing their uncle Jack.”

  “Maybe after this case, I’ll treat you all to a steak dinner.”

  “Sounds good, man,” Hank said. “We’ll make plans then.”

  I said goodbye, and we cut the call.

  At least that was one thing taken care of. I didn’t want Lauren worrying about her own life and have her mother to worry about.

  Chapter 12

  Jack

  Getting back to the office, I was surprised to see Lauren sitting at her desk. No signs of crying remained on her face, and had she not come to me, one might think it never happened.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, giving her a hug. She accepted, lingering a little longer than usual.

  “It’s where I work, isn’t it?” she teased.

  “I thought you’d at least take the day off or something regarding the situation. I didn’t expect you in, anyway,” I replied. “But I’ve got it all covered. Spoke with Hank Stamos this morning and he’s going to make sure that there’s always a watchful eye over your mother.”

  “Thanks, Jack,” she said, gesturing her head over to Aaron and Gwen, standing over the computer. I knew she was telling me to keep quiet on the situation, never wanting to be a bother.

  Nodding my head, I pulled away, poured myself a glass of orange juice, and greeted the others.

  “You’re in early today,” Gwen said, checking her watch.

  “Am I?” I replied.

  “I’ve never seen you at the office before 11 AM,” she quipped.

  “Well, it’s been a hell of a morning,” I sipped my juice. “What’s got you two hovering over a screen like this, or am I just being hopeful?”

  “Well, I managed to find something on the mailman that delivered the letter to your door. Going through your footage was pointless, but I went back to your building and got some other cameras around the apartments. After a long search, through hours of nothing, I found this…”

  Aaron hit the spacebar and the video started playing. There was little at first. Just a few cars passing by or people in the streets. But it was late, so everything was more or less empty. That was until a Chevy Impala pulled up to the apartment complex. That’s when he stepped out, the sack of shit that’s been terrorizing not only me and my crew but Jane Dench too.

  “That’s him,” I pointed at the screen.

  “It gets so much better,” Aaron said.

  The moment the mailman stepped out of the apartment and got back in the car, Aaron slowed the video down to a tenth of the speed. It moved slowly until a certain point, where Aaron started moving the video himself, only now, frame by frame.

  I didn't see it at first, but the second the car pulled out of the parking spot, the number plate was visible for a brief few seconds.

  “Holy shit, you got him,” I could feel the excitement ready to spill out.

  “Yes… well, no. The car’s not registered to a man, it’s registered to a woman named Delores Carlisle. The car was reported missing a few weeks ago. Now, I don’t want to say this is anything, but it’s something,” Aaron replied.

  “And this Delores Carlisle, have you been in touch with her about the car?” I asked.

  “I’ve given her a call, but she didn’t pick up. I only found this a few hours ago, so I’m guessing she hasn’t gotten up, or she’s busy getting ready for work. That being said, she works just down the road from here, so maybe you can pay her a visit?”

  “It’s a stolen car, right? What hopes are there that she’s going to know anything about it?” I questioned. Aaron wouldn’t have made mention of this without having a plan in his back pocket.

  “Well, there are a few things, actually. Delores Carlisle is an older woman; she had three kids in her life, two died a couple of years back while the last is still alive. There’s little information about him online, but he’s not exactly a model citizen from what I could find. One of those strange loner types,” Aaron continued. “Delores put up the stolen car with the police, and then it seemingly vanished a day later. I’m guessing she found out who took it and decided not to investigate further. On top of all this, too, why would he take the plates off when going after Jane Dench, but have them on for you? I really don’t think it’s just a case of a stolen vehicle… there’s so much more to it than that.”

  “The kid’s got a point,” Gwen said, shrugging her shoulders. “It all adds up too well to think that Delores is just letting this slide. No claims to an insurance company, no attempt to retrieve the vehicle… at least there’s an avenue to pursue with this one.”

  “You’re right, it’s a lead and we should pursue it,” I said, shrugging. “I’ll take care of that. You carry on looking and see if you can dig anything else up on this case, alright?”

  “Got it, boss,” Aaron said.

  I finished the glass of orange juice, preparing to go out into the world once more. At least I hadn’t taken off my jacket or hat yet.

  “Jack,” Gwen called after I set my glass down on the counter.

  “Yes?”

  “I wanted to ask you about something. Spencer wants to meet his sister and I’m not inclined to say no. They might find some kind of strength in each other, knowing that they have each other in these troubling times.”

  I cocked a brow, shak
ing my head.

  “I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” I replied.

  “Why not? They’re going through this together and they’re both suffering. Both Spencer and Jane know about the other but have no way of getting in touch with each other. They deserve it…” she sighed. “They deserve it because what if something happens to one of them and the other is left knowing they had a sibling, but they never got to meet them?”

  “It’s not the right time, and you know it too,” I shook my head. “You’re putting two people, who are both in very volatile situations, in the same room. They might think it’s what they need right now, but they need to focus on survival. You don’t want to give either of them too much hope for the exact situation you just listed.”

  “That’s cold-hearted—”

  “No, it’s really not. It’s logical. By letting the two of them meet, you’re putting an external burden on both of them. Now, it’s not a fight to make it through this, it’s what about the other? Jane Dench is a strong woman, or at least she wants to be, but you’ll be twisting her hand. She doesn’t know Spencer Williamson, and she doesn’t need to. If those two families meet, we’re going to have much worse on our hands than just threats, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about that,” I replied.

  “I have, and I don’t care,” Gwen shut me down. “Sometimes you have to do what’s wrong to make sure that things go right.”

  “Like speaking to a shady drug dealer in a motel out in the middle of nowhere? How well did that go for you again?”

  “That’s different and you know it,” Gwen replied. All eyes were on us now. I didn’t know if Lauren and Aaron knew about Gwen’s shadier side, but at this point, it didn’t really matter either.

  “Please, enlighten me on how it’s different. Putting yourself in the firing line to a known cop-killer because you want answers on a case,” I paused, trying to cool down a bit. “Look, I’m not arguing this. It’s a terrible idea.”

  Gwen sighed.

  “Well, it’s too late. I’ve set the meeting up for tomorrow at noon, and I’d really appreciate it if you could make it. It’s just going to be a small lunch in the city. Both Jane and Spencer are very excited,” she said.

  I burst out into uncontrollable laughter. Even in my head, I knew it was frantic sounding, but it’s how I felt. Like the world around me was closing in, and it was ready to implode at any given second. Lauren, Gwen, and Aaron just looked at me with confusion stretched across their faces. This was no laughing matter.

  “Why bother bringing it up with me if you already did this?” I finally asked as the laughter subsided.

  “Because I knew you’d say no,” even though I just scolded her, Gwen still gave me an offhanded seductive wink.

  “Tomorrow at noon, I’ll be there.”

  I didn’t expect to see Gwen at the office when I got back from my interview with Delores. That was probably for the best, too. Still, I ventured into the early morning New York traffic in hopes of finding any scrap I could to benefit this case.

  Chapter 13

  Jack

  Delores Carlisle worked in a dimly lit antique store that sold trinkets of all sorts. Nestled between two high-rise buildings, the store only got light from one front window. It reminded me of a horror movie, where a mysterious old man would work behind the desk, ready to deliver some information on the atrocity plaguing the main cast.

  And in some ways, I hoped it held true. I wanted Delores to give me something, anything, that might benefit me on this case. We all needed a break in it, which could help us get one step closer to justice. This time, it wasn’t just taking a toll on me, but everyone in my crew.

  I’d never been so lost on a case. Not even when there was some strange draw, I always managed to find a way around the obstacles and bring down the criminals.

  Delores Carlisle was my first and only saving grace.

  The antique store had a simple layout. On entry, I was met by furniture, trinkets, old African masks, beautiful lamps, and ornate vases all around. They’d all collected dust over the years of never being purchased, and the sight of many sent shivers down my spine. Towards the end of the store was a single counter with a cash register atop it.

  Much like the rest of the store, it was old. A single TV hung from a wall mount to the left of the register. It faced towards the back, where a door hung open with a light on.

  Delores was singing a song when I entered. Some long-forgotten, 1950s love track that fell by the wayside to more popular songs of the era. Her voice was shrill, off-key, and displeasing to the ear.

  The TV, a cheap flat screen, played daytime soap operas. I guessed it the Days of our Lives, but I knew nothing about TV, let alone what bored housewives watched.

  “Excuse me,” I called over the noise. There was a bell at the front door that rung out with my entry, but over her own voice, I don’t believe Delores heard me. She missed my first call too.

  “Excuse me,” I shouted louder. “I’m looking for Delores Carlisle.”

  She yelped in the back office, making noises as if she was almost dying. “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the TV.”

  I knew it was a lie.

  Stepping out of the back office, Delores Carlisle stood no taller than my chest. Her neck was a pocket of fat that extended from her cheeks and chin, down to her chest, without definition. Her body was round, her face was wrinkled, and her teeth were stained a grey-yellow. Her lips were painted red, with makeup covering her face that wasn’t near the right shade to her actual skin tone. Delores wore an oversized shirt that looked more like a dress and still somehow managed to be too tight, exposing rolls upon rolls.

  In one hand, she held a cup of coffee, maybe tea, while the other held two danishes between the fingers. One oozed a red jelly from where a bite was taken out of it.

  I felt sick just looking at her.

  “Delores Carlisle?” I asked.

  “That’s me,” her voice, still shrill and painful to listen to. “Who are you?”

  She had a thick accent that I couldn’t place. I almost put it somewhere out of the United States but didn’t enquire on it.

  “I am Detective Jack Mercer. My secretary, Lauren, called this morning about my arrival,” I replied.

  “That’s right,” she said. “You wanted to speak to me about my car, was it?”

  “I did. It’s part of an active investigation into a case. From surveillance footage from my apartment complex, we tracked the car back to you,” I paused for a moment, drawing my recorder from my pocket. “Would you mind?”

  “Not at all,” she said.

  I turned the recorder on, setting it down on the counter before continuing.

  “I was wondering if you have any idea who has your car? I understand that you put a report out on the vehicle being stolen a few weeks ago, only, not long after the whole case seemingly disappeared. What was the reasoning behind that?” I asked.

  “Yes, it was my son who took it. He said he left me a note, and he wasn’t lying. I only found it a few days after he told me,” she snickered. “He’s a little rascal, my Oscar, but I love him to bits regardless.”

  Delores seemed utterly oblivious to the situation. As if it hadn’t clicked that her son might’ve been implicated in something far more severe than I was letting on. Knowing this, I decided to roll with it, rather than tip her off that he was a suspect in these crimes.

  “And he still has the car now?”

  “Well, I’d hope so. Otherwise, I’ve been taking the bus to work and back for nothing,” Delores huffed, taking another bite of her danish. “Why? Did something happen to my baby boy?”

  “No, ma’am, I don’t believe anything’s happened to your son. I was wondering if you could tell me more about him though? What does he do for a living? I don’t suppose he stays at home if he’s got your car, so I’m just curious to learn more about him.”

  “My little baby, Oscar, is a writer,” she said, pulling her nose into t
he air. “A famous one at that. Did you know that a story he wrote was featured in a magazine?”

  I couldn’t tell if she was oblivious to how the writing world worked or if she was just a complete moron. So far, however, all the boxes were being ticked.

  Oscar left his mother a letter. He was a writer, which might’ve explained the ability to write in calligraphy. The car was in his hands. I couldn’t believe it, but I felt like Aaron helped make the first break in this case, and I felt relief washing over me already. Was this the start and end of all our problems? I had to hope so but expected the road to be far more winding than just that.

  “Ma’am, I’d like to show you a picture now. Can you let me know if it’s Oscar?” I asked, drawing a crumpled sheet of paper from my pocket. From Aaron’s investigation into the footage, it was the clearest picture of the culprit he could find.

  I handed it over to Delores and she brought it close to her chest. Her face sprawled with strange emotions of absolute joy at the sight of it.

  “Yes, that’s my babe,” she said, her face glowing with delight. “Isn’t he just the most handsome young man?”

  Delores’s face suddenly turned sour as she eyed me down. She set the half-eaten treat atop the other that already sat on the counter. Looking at the sheet again, I supposed it finally clicked that I wasn’t here asking about her boy. I couldn’t believe it took her this long to figure it out.

  “What’s this all about, detective?” she asked, her shrill voice turned threatening.

  “Your son, Oscar, is threatening the lives of not only myself but multiple other families at the same time. I would urge your co-operation moving forward on this case. However, I’d understand if you’d like to exercise your right to remain silent,” I replied, reaching for my recorder.

  Delores snatched it up before I could get it. I didn’t expect such agility and speed from such a rotund woman.

  “I won’t let you have it,” she said, clutching the recorder. “If you don’t have this, there’s no admission of guilt.”

  She turned her nose up again as if she had the upper hand in the situation.