Short Stories and Flash Fiction

by Alice de Sturler

  Paul shook her head and assumed the final sprint. She would go over this again later.

  Part 10:

  “I don’t need to know how many roadies you really butchered.”

  Karsten looked at his court appointed criminal defense attorney. “I don’t get it. How are you gonna defend me on appeal if you don't want to know nothing?”

  Jeremy Lansing took a fresh yellow legal pad from his briefcase, uncapped his gold nib fountain pen, and wrote Karsten Mitchell at the top of the first page. He underlined his new client’s name and looked approvingly at his handwriting with his head slightly tilted before answering the question.

  “The charges against you were seven counts of first degree murder for the six dead roadies and one security guard. In addition, we have one count of first degree murder related to Detective Erica Paul. We will concentrate on the latter for your appeal.”

  Karsten sighed and veined interest in cleaning his finger nails. Lansing pretended not to notice. He couldn’t stand bathroom manners outside designated areas. It made him queasy and he made a mental note not to shake hands with Mitchell ever again.

  “You told police that your older brother James Mitchell, Jr., was responsible for all the murders and beatings of the roadies and the security guard. However, the jury thought that you simply tried to pin all these crimes on a dead man. James is not here anymore to tell his side of the story. Most murder weapons did come back exclusively with James’ fingerprints and some with his DNA, indeed. But we need to worry about capital punishment. I will request to see the security tapes and have them examined by our own experts. However, from everything that I have read ... it doesn’t look good for you, Mr. Mitchell.”

  “What if we prove that I was defending myself?” Karsten looked at his handcuffs. They scratched his wrists and he was convinced that those spots were not rust but blood stains. They smelled bad too. He didn’t exactly know why but on his first night in prison, during his transportation, he had smelled his handcuffs. The cops next to him thought he was wiping off a bugger and on arrival sprayed his cuffed hands with Lysol. The smell of that chemical reminded him of his parental home and of James who hated Lysol with a vengeance.

  Karsten despised the way he looked. He didn’t have his hair and facial care products, his seamless shirts, his own underwear, nothing. There is no dignity in prison. His prison issued overall was so roughly cut from cheap polyester that the seams scratched his skin. He got a massive outbreak of eczema near his underarms, waist, and inner tights in his first week. The flip-flops he received hurt his feet and no matter how he cramped his toes, they never stayed on. He had flat feet and as a child he had always worn inserts. As a consequence of flat feet in ill-fitting flip-flops, his lower back was a mess and he could swear he needed disk replacement soon.

  He let out a deep sigh and studied the ceiling of the attorney visiting room. Cheap, plastic inlaid tiles in a cheap plastic drop down frame.

  It is mom and pop all over here.

  He shook his head and with bloodshot eyes looked at his only hope. Lansing did not look like a kid fresh out of law school but he also didn’t air the confidence of a well-seasoned old pro either. “What if nothing comes back with my DNA?”

  Lansing put the capped fountain pen to his lips and seemed to be deep in thought.

  “Well? I've seen it on TV! If they don’t have my DNA we can say it was all James. Because, if it was me too my DNA would have been there, right?” Karsten’s eyes were almost bulging as he was trying to help his new lawyer see that he had an excellent chance to get his conviction overturned on appeal.

  Lansing looked at his client. He had not been ecstatic when he was told to handle Karsten Mitchell’s appeal. However, a case that involves celebrities, their step-brothers, his anger, the death penalty, and an inheritance … it could mean a fast trip to the top. He might make partner within a year. But how to win this appeal? The jury disliked Karsten instantly not to mention the solid case the prosecution presented in court. Trying to kill an officer is almost unwinnable on appeal.

  His only chance is to claim excessive and disproportionate violence from Paul. He had no intention to kill her. Now how do I show that? I need to see those surveillance tapes. Maybe I can explain these images in such a way to create doubt. He doesn’t have a criminal record, no history of drugs or violence, and no run-ins with any law enforcement agency. And if all prints are James' we actually might be able to make it work.

  “Mr. Mitchell, I need you to explain to me again your family life and everything you know about Miles H. Guard.”

  Karsten knew better than to jump up but he noticeably veered up against the table. “Again? What can I tell you that the others didn’t already ask?”

  "Just bear with me, please. Now, from the top!”

  Part 11:

  Vance County District Attorney Charles “Chuck” Beauregard and First Assistant District Attorney Esmeralda de Ville-Port had been locked inside the conference room now for over an hour. Their interns had been instructed to bring all the paper files from the Benedict Brothers’ case into the large conference room. It had taken two interns all morning to do so.

  The trial against Karsten Mitchell had covered many complex issues as some murders were committed on the European continent. All those countries involved had filed extradition requests and eagerly awaited the arrival of the “Mad Brother.” That’s what Karsten was now called overseas. Aside from that, the case involved capital punishment.

  The jury was convinced that the brothers acted in unison and despite the fact that James was not there to defend himself, the prosecution had convinced them that he was equally guilty. Their verdict was unanimous.

  All murders were meticulously planned. The most damning pieces of evidence involved the laptops from both brothers that included several files with tour maps, the band’s history, collected information about Adam, names of crew members and past roadies, venue details, and even a WhatsApp text thread in which both brothers discussed their murder weapon of choice.

  All roadies were murdered in the same way and with the same type of weapon. All were ambushed by one brother from behind while the other stormed in from the front for double impact. All were beaten and all were killed when they were down on the ground with a hex key slammed into their temples.

  The method and weapon were all symbolic for the suffering their parents had caused them. Being ambushed from both sides symbolized the adoption of Miles and the disinheritment. The hex key or Allen Keys were a reference to their parents’ frugal living and cheap taste in furniture that all too often came from the despised “build-it-yourself” store with the even more despised meatballs in the food court.

  The hex key was carefully chosen to implicate Miles. They all had ergonomic handles. In Miles’ adoption file they had found a reference to juvenile arthritis. All hex keys were exactly 16 inches long. 16 inches as in 16 bars of music. That of course, referred to Miles’ audition. It would be the symbol of his jealousy towards his famous rock star step-brother.

  The duct tape that they had generously used in every murder was examined by several experts. It was the most common type of duct tape, gray, nothing specific about it. Most had indeed carried the fingerprints from both brothers and some DNA from James had been found where he had used his teeth to rip the tape. Of course, on appeal the question would be whether Karsten’s DNA was present on any of the hex keys. Karsten had told police that James did all the killing. When each roadie was on the ground beaten to a pulp, James would roll them on their side, secure their heads between his knees and then say “let me plug your mike in” before he rammed the hex keys into the softer bone structure of their skulls.

  Karsten had shown no regrets that they had intended for Miles to be arrested and convicted for seven murders. With an air of pride, Karsten had told several investigators how much more sophisticated him and James were and how Miles was an ill-fit in their family. “Stupid, inferior kid with a lisp. He couldn’t even
properly say his own name: Garth! Sounded as Guard so that’s what mom & pop put on the adoption papers: Guard-Mitchell.”

  Esmeralda and Chuck knew that Karsten would appeal the verdict. He would try to pin all crimes on James. He would try to make Paul look like Dirty Harriet to get a reduced sentence. However, Paul showed her professionalism and experience by shooting Karsten’s lower arm between his wrist and elbow when she saw the crossbow. She had fired only one shot and had done exactly what she was taught: disarm only, do not kill.

  During the trial, the defense had tried to show that crossbows are nonlethal. The prosecution quickly dealt with that by showing hospital reports of deadly accidents with crossbows. They had a presentation comparing the differences between bullets and arrow points as weapons. Both of course are lethal. But it is the way they both kill. That’s where the differences were and neither looked good for Karsten. Had he been able to shoot Paul with his crossbow, serious loss of blood would have killed her. It didn’t help the defense either that Karsten had a two-blade broadhead already loaded on his crossbow.

  Despite this, both attorneys knew that the upscale law firm hired to handle Karsten’s appeal would pull any trick out of the hat to avoid lethal injection for their new famous client.

  They would portrait Paul on appeal as a reckless cop. However, opinion was very much in favor of Paul having acted within the limits of the law. Even the press didn’t report any Wild West stories about her. Still, everyone was worried. Paul was, Hanson and Luc were as well as all other officers.

  Part 12:

  “So you found your husband with a gallon of bleach in his hands and he threatened to drink the whole bottle, correct?” Maggie Garth nodded and sighed. She still couldn’t believe what has happening around her and her family. Adam had never shown any signs of being emotionally vulnerable but since Miles’ arrest she had seen the decline in his mental faculties.

  One night she panicked and called Tobias. She told him that Adam didn’t sleep anymore and that he was rummaging through cabinets and closets. He frightened her. Moreover, he frightened their only daughter Jessie. Tobias had managed to get through to Adam and had escorted him to counselling sessions ever since.

  The counselor had insisted to include Maggie in their therapy as well as Miles. Adam had no problems with Maggie but wasn’t ready to see Miles. Not yet.

  Tobias scanned the entire home and got rid of all medications, prescription and OTC, all chemicals, weed killers, and all solvents. He had even looked up on the web whether you can kill yourself by drinking a bottle of mouth wash!

  After Jessie stopped talking to him, Adam finally agreed to treatment in an undisclosed location. Away from the spotlights, the band, and the fans. Just Maggie, Jessie, and some therapists. It was an uphill battle.

  Consumed with guilt for abandoning his step-brother and self-loathing for never searching for him, for never having sent a note, Adam had spiraled into a major depression. Pills would only get him so far. He needed to forgive himself and make peace with Miles. Everyone agreed that would be the start he needed to climb out of this dark hole.

  ***

  “Did you see the press conference from Lansing calling the trial and the verdict a travesty of unprecedented proportions? He actually claims he can proof that Paul’s reaction was disproportionate!”

  Schmidt and Herschel were at the range getting their mandatory training hours in. They had finished and were packing up when the TV in the canteen interrupted the program for breaking news. Karsten Mitchell was going to prove that Detective Erica Paul used disproportionate violence and that his ineffective lawyers should have realized that. The death sentence would be overturned on appeal.

  Herschel squinted when Lansing came into view. “Do you know him?” Schmidt asked his older partner?

  “No, but he looks like a dumb city-slicker. He doesn’t look comfortable in his own suit. I wonder what his connections are like.”

  ***

  Jeremy Lansing was rubbing his temples. He had watched the security tape now for hours and for the life of him, could not come up with one angle that would discredit Paul. The tape he got was from the camera across from the main public entrance.

  It showed the stage from the back and despite the granule images, you could clearly see Karsten slipping underneath the stage with bags while James walked along the side to the front. Later on, you see Hanson and Paul coming in. Back to back, circling, guns pointed down, alert.

  A brief disturbance in the tape is followed by Hanson starting to take a step to the right with her hips turning but her upper body still facing forward. Paul is standing with legs spread facing forward but her upper body is already turning to the left. Her balance is clearly on the left leg. Suddenly there is movement below the stage, both cops turning to face the stage in crouched positions, guns coming up but not yet in shooting positions as Karsten emerges. He is clearly aiming at Paul. Hanson squats, her gun comes up into firing position. Paul does the same but she is faster and shoots Karsten in the left underarm where he holds a crossbow.

  It clearly is a crossbow, you mother-fucking idiot! How the hell am I going to make anything else of this!

  “Mrs. Duncan, can you please get me water and an aspirin?” Lansing sinks back into his chair and closes his eyes. He hears his secretary come in and looks up to see her place a tray on his desk. “Anything else, Mr. Lansing?” Lansing sits up, grabs the glass, pops an aspirin and before he swallows says “Yes, a miracle.”

  ***

  Luc stared at the phone. He had just seen the news coverage. None of this would have happened if he had not made that mistake. He was in Hanson’s debt for the rest of his life already but he owed Paul too. The outgoing Chief sighed and decided to swallow what pride he had left. He picked up the phone and made the call.

  Part 13:

  James Mitchell welcomed the warm sunlight caressing his skin. The last few months have been hell. At least I still have my wife and my son. He picked up his glass of wine. Miles had fussed about him drinking alcohol because of the many daily prescription medications that he needed. But he too agreed that once in a while James should be allowed to enjoy the flavor, sweet taste, and wonderful aroma of a good glass of wine. Despite all the pain, James felt a smile forming on his face. He quietly toasted his son. They had made the right decision adopting Miles. He took a sip of wine, put the glass down, and rolled his wheelchair towards the flowerbeds that his wife Emily had planted around the newly constructed patio.

  In the corner, Adam and Miles were grilling steaks while Emily and Little Jessie were playing with a doll house that Miles had built for her underneath the awning.

  “Is he doing any better now?” he asked Maggie who was watching Emily and Jessie play from her very comfortable lawn chair. Maggie too had been soaking up the soothing feeling of the sun on her skin. “Yes, he is sleeping normally again. The depression still bears watching but he is functioning again and that is crucial for his recovery. Next week he returns to his vocal instructor’s classes. The band is hopeful that making a rockumentary of all their number one hits will help to get Adam back on his feet.”

  Band manager Kirk Tobias had suggested the making of a rockumentary to ease Adam back into the public eye while keeping him on very familiar ground. The Benedict Brothers as a band refused to beef up on security all voicing the belief that this will never happen again. They wanted to stay accessible to their fans, approachable. They would not change their routines. And of course, they would come back to Vance Stadium first if they started touring again. That announcement was music to Mayor Storm Richards’ ears. He had been nothing but supportive albeit everyone knew he’d use it for his re-election campaign!

  It had been Athena Hanson’s idea that maybe what Adam needed most was a good shouting match with Miles while being forced to work together on a project. After several arrangements were made, Hanson had personally driven Adam to the Mitchells.

  There in the Mitchells living room, Adam saw Miles
again for the first time after the auditions. “You don’t look so good, bro” was all Miles could manage. He had rehearsed this meeting, written greeting after greeting in his journals only to revise and dump his notes. He had stressed for days what to wear. Nothing too formal but not too informal either. And what would he do if Adam got mad at him? What if he started crying? What if Adam didn’t show up? Clearly, he wasn’t sure what to expect from his older step-brother.

  Adam couldn’t speak at all. His voice was locked in his throat. He already knew that he looked like shit so there was no need to confirm that. And even if he wanted to counter that observation, he couldn’t. He felt himself getting nauseous. Then he got the sensation of a fireball inside of him burned upwards towards his throat. But it didn’t unlock his vocal cords. He wanted to yell but all he could muster was a tearful “I’m so sorry.” Each word came out in a burst and he was visibly choking on those words. His face was red, his nose started running, and for a moment it sounded like he too had a soft lisp.

  Miles just stood there not knowing what to do. This was not what he had practiced. He was frozen with an expressionless face until Emily gently but firmly told her son to tell Adam about the note he had left on James’ medicine tray the night before he left for Vance County. She made him read it out loud.

  While Miles was reading, Adam’s breathing became regular again and he seemed to have been able to swallow the fireball. He looked at Miles and said “Did you really think that I had abandoned you? You are not going to pin this all on me, little bro. You ran away!”

  And before the verbal judo could start in earnest, Emily and Athena pushed them towards the garden doors and locked them out. The brothers’ first reaction was to complain and demand to be let back in the house. At that, Emily closed the drapes after pointing to a table where they found water, a map for a patio, and building equipment. She smiled when she heard her son say “Seriously?”

  Hanson had taken a tour of the living room, admiring the art, and looking at the many photographs of the Mitchell children. She had volunteered to drive Adam so she could talk to the Mitchells in private away from the public eye. Because no matter what Jim had done, she had put a bullet in their child. And no matter that Jim and Karsten had turned their backs on their parents, the Mitchells were grieving.