Burdened By Guilt

by Michiko Katsu

  He wrote down the details he thought relevant, avoiding any unnecessary eye contact as he asked questions or recounted facts ensuring their accuracy.

  “Anything unusual about him you can remember?”

  “No.”

  “Hair, eyes, bad breath, logos on his clothes, anything like that?”

  “No. I told you I couldn’t see his face and I wasn’t focused on how he smelled.”

  “Did he say anything to you? Did he have an accent? Was his voice high-pitched or deep? Did he use any words that might characterize anything about him?”

  “No he didn’t say anything.”

  Mike continued to ask questions and Suzanne answered specifically and without embellishment. He looked up at her occasionally only to notice she didn’t appear any more interested in looking at him than he was at her.

  "By the way," she interrupted. "Why did you come back?"

  He squinted. "What do you mean ‘back’?"

  "You must have been coming back to talk to me about something otherwise it doesn’t make any sense why you would still be anywhere around the building when I came running out."

  He studied her face unsure of the response she hoped to hear. "I had wanted to ask you another question," he said, still watching for a reaction.

  "What question?"

  "Actually, I can't remember anymore. It must not have been important." He looked back down at his notebook and continued writing.

  The waitress brought their food and they ate in silence. Mike didn’t realize how hungry he was until the smell of his greasy, diner burger and chili cheese fries made his mouth water. He dove in with vigor barely registering her bird-like picking at the chef’s salad in front of her.

  He paid the check and drove her home.

  Mike pulled into the driveway next to her car: a brand new, black 4-door sedan with the dealer tags still attached. He requested someone tow it to her house so it was available to her. He turned off the motor and got out of the car.

  "You're coming in?" She asked.

  He turned back into the car and looked at her. "Yes. I want to secure the premises. Just wait in the car for a few minutes. I'll let you know when you can come in."

  Reluctantly she handed him her keys and he went inside. He was only gone for a few minutes eventually appearing at the front door, motioning her to come in.

  "Looks good," he said handing her keys back to her. "Just wanted to make sure no one broke in."

  "Thank you…Mike. I appreciate all you’re doing." She walked past him into the living room, placed her purse on the back of the sofa and rummaged through the contents.

  "One more thing?" He asked.

  "Yes?"

  "Would you have any idea who would want to hurt you?"

  Her back stiffened and she stopped searching but she did not turn around.

  "Suzanne?"

  She hesitated. "No. I can't think of anyone. Sorry."

  He wanted to see her face but he wasn't going to reach out and spin her around. Besides he didn't need to look at her to know she lied.

  "Well, if you can think of any more details be sure and give me a call." He put his card on the table next to him.

  "Yes, of course. Thank you again Detective. You know, I'm getting very tired and think I should lie down for a bit. Would you mind showing yourself out please?" She was halfway down the hallway before she finished her sentence. The door to her bedroom closed before he could say a word.

  Chapter 19

  It was fall in the Valley although the coed attire had yet to be notified. Adolescent skin shone brightly in the afternoon sun as cutoffs, tank tops and spaghetti straps teased and flirted with lustful and indifferent eyes screaming for acknowledgment only to be offended with it came too harshly. Tattoos, belly button rings and painted toenails completed the look leaving nothing to the imagination with the easily won and easily lost innocence handed out like fliers to a late night comedy show.

  Mike felt old and grateful he wasn’t the father of a teenage girl as he made his way down the tree lined walkway to the security office. It was a small stucco structure that looked like an old Photomat with a pass through in the front where Mike assumed people could walk up and ask for help—or ice cream. A large Ash kept the structures in shadow and packed dirt surrounded it with the occasional weed breaking up the brown expanse.

  The door was open and Mike knocked as he let himself in.

  "Detective. To what do I owe the pleasure?" His name was "Chris" according to the plastic nametag hanging crookedly from his wrinkled shirt. His tone left no question he was uneasy at Mike’s unannounced appearance.

  "I wanted some clarification on something you said last night," Mike responded. "You either lied to my partner or misrepresented a very important piece of information."

  Chris took his feet off the top of the desk and leaned forward putting his boney elbows on his knees. “What do you mean?" He asked, his head cocked to one side.

  "You told my partner last night nothing like this ever happened here before. I found out that wasn't exactly true. Apparently you've had a lot of break-ins around here.” Mike walked around the small office fingering books, papers and anything else that would show how insignificant he thought Chris to be. “I'm starting to wonder if you were holding back that bit of information because you might be hiding something. Maybe something like…oh…I don’t know…maybe you being involved in some way?"

  Chris stood. He was almost as tall as Mike but easily weighed a hundred pounds less. He reeked of B.O. and stale bong water and it took everything for Mike not to take a step back just so he didn't have to smell him any longer.

  "I wasn't involved in jack shit," he said jabbing his finger in Mike's direction. He seemed to know better than to actually touch him. "When I told him nothing like that’d ever happened here before I meant the attack. He never asked me about any break-ins."

  "So how many break-ins have there been?" Mike asked still playing with whatever was laying around the office occasionally wiping his hands on his jeans as if whatever he touched had an offensive residue.

  Chris didn’t respond right away instead he looked down his beak-like nose and crossed his arms. When Mike didn’t respond or acknowledge him, Chris dropped his arms, turned and pulled out a logbook.

  "There’ve been eight break-ins over the past three months in that building. No one was hurt and nothing was stolen.”

  "How many at Dr. Kelly's office?"

  Chris looked back down at the log. "Four."

  Four? “Anyone else’s office get broken into as much as Dr. Kelly’s?”

  Chris looked down again then shook his head. “Nope. Guess someone just doesn’t like her.” He smiled showing crooked, stained teeth.

  "Why didn't you file a complaint?" Mike asked.

  "With who? You cops? Look dude, we are campus security. Campus security for a community college. Not the FBI. Our jobs are to make sure these kids don't get too rowdy and keep them from killing each other over some dumb chick with fake tits and a belly button ring.”

  He dropped the logbook on the desk, sat and pulled out a cigarette from the mashed pack of Newports. He held it, unlit, between his pale, thin lips. “We're just here to make sure they don't damage property or themselves. The most we ever deal with are kids smoking pot in the bathrooms or having sex in an empty classroom.” He spread out his arms and snickered as if what he had just said required laughter. “That’s pretty much it. If someone breaks in but don’t hurt nobody or steal nothin’ my only job is to write it down in the logbook. We don’t dust for prints, take semen samples or run DNA comparison analysis.” He sat back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head as he grinned at Mike.

  “After eight break-ins you should’ve at least notified the police so they would’ve had something on record,” Mike said.

  “Look, like I said, nothing was taken and no one was hurt. Those teachers can file a complaint with you guys if they wanted to. I can’t make them do it if they
don’t.”

  Mike pushed. “Is there anything else you have neglected to inform me about? Anything specifically related to Doctor Kelly?”

  “No dude. Nothing.”

  Mike cringed. He hated it when people called him “dude”.

  “She pretty much keeps to herself. Most of the kids hate her and most of the other teachers avoid her. She’s a pretty cold fish if you ask me. You know, that’s why it never surprised me someone would break into her office a lot. I’m sure it was a bunch of students just trying to razz her for being such a bitch.”

  Mike squinted at him. The Velcro on his shoes negated his ability to be deceptive in any believable way—stupid, yes—deceptive, no. Although, he didn’t dismiss his involvement in some illegal activity especially when he “confiscated” the pot he sometimes caught the kids smoking. But anything more than that was way beyond his mental capacity. Besides this guy was probably stoned every waking hour of the day and he didn’t have the mental resources necessary for a job like that. It looked like he didn’t have a brain cell to spare.

  Mike’s cell phone rang. “Anderson.”

  “It’s Kevin.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You need to meet me down on Central by the old hospital.”

  “Why?”

  “Someone found another body.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Mike hung up the phone. “Well, here’s to hoping I don’t have to come back down here.” Mike looked directly at Chris making a not so subtle threat and then left.

  “You’re welcome,” Chris said then mumbled loud enough for Mike to hear. “Asshole.”

  Chapter 20

  Beat down by years of unrelenting sun the façade of the oldest hospital in the Valley looked like leftovers from World War II. Peeling paint, unwashed windows and monster air-conditioning units sat on the roof as the surrounding property featured insect infested pine trees next to towering palms. The entire area looked like a patchwork quilt of leftovers and remnants from more important projects.

  Long narrow windows opened by a crank wrapped around six times as a single white portico covered the drive to the emergency room. The west facing wing was long since closed down, the only other entrance was almost invisible except for the small sign hanging over the single door.

  Professionals and on-lookers swamped the back of the hospital when Mike arrived. The closer he got to the center of the crowd, the more pungent the odor became. It was the smell he hated and knew would stay with him for at least a week. He ran his hand over his mouth and kept walking.

  Kevin greeted him as he ducked under the yellow caution tape. “This is a nasty one,” he said. His body shook and he looked like he had thrown up a few times. Sweat covered his brow catching that stubborn curl and plastering it to his forehead. He ran the back of his hand across his mouth and looked back over his shoulder. “I—I’ve never seen anything like this.” He put his hand over his mouth to stifle a heave.

  “Yeah. I smell it,” Mike said, covering his own mouth with the back of his hand. He never understood how Greg dealt with it on a regular basis. Then again, it was Greg and he probably enjoyed the fact it didn’t bother him as much as it did everyone else. “I guess that means he’s been dead for a while.”

  “Uh-huh. Greg’s already over there doing his thing. Sorry, but I just can’t stand that close to him for any length of time. I tried breathing through my mouth but now my mouth tastes like—like—.”

  “Don’t worry about it kid,” Mike clapped him on the back. “Go ‘round and start asking questions. I’d rather have you doing that than throwing up on the crime scene.”

  “Kevin.”

  “What?”

  “It’s Kevin, not kid.”

  “You want to get into that now?”

  Kevin hesitated. Instead of arguing with Mike, he pulled out a small toothbrush, a tongue scrapper and bottle of water and went looking for a trash can.

  Mike shook his head and walked the other direction.

  “This is always my favorite part of the job,” Mike said sarcastically. “How goes it Crouching Tiger?”

  Greg grinned from his Jonny Bench position. “Yeah, this’ll definitely put hair on your chest. Speaking of which, where’s the kid? Couldn’t take it, huh?” He laughed.

  “He’s over taking statements. He didn’t look so good. Not that I can blame him. I never can get used to that damn smell.” Mike breathed into his elbow joint. “What’s the deal?”

  “Well, given the amount of decomp this poor bastards been dead for somewhere around fifteen days give or take a day or two. The blackened flesh and lack of bloating means he’s still in the black putrification stage. You’ll probably want to get some of the insect material over to your entomologist to get a more exact time.”

  “Cause of death?”

  “Can’t tell due to the condition of the body. I don’t see any obvious wounds but when a body’s been out in the elements for this long it isn’t always easy. I can tell you this much. This guy is unusually skinny. I would say borderline anorexic. Don’t know if that means anything outside of personal choice but it seemed unusual to me. I don’t see this very often when dealing with males.”

  “Who found him?”

  “Some kids were riding their bikes through here and caught the smell. One of them went home and told his dad who eventually called it in after he found the body. They’re over talking to a crisis counselor right now I think. Something like this doesn’t make for a good memory that’s for sure.”

  “Anything…else?”

  Greg grinned. “You mean are there any connections to the other two?”

  Mike waved him on.

  “As far as his teeth and fingers are concerned he’s still intact,” Greg said. “No notes. But I haven’t been able to maneuver this guy around too much under the circumstances. I’m sure if something’s there I’ll find it when I pour him onto the table. I’ll tell you this much, if there is some note card placed anywhere in or on this body there’s no way you’re going to be able to retrieve it. This body is toxic at this point and paper doesn’t react well to the type of acids produced over this length of time.”

  Greg stood and walked around to the other side. “Nope, I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you,” he smiled. “Hey…hold my breath.” He shook his head and laughed.

  “Greg…”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be sure and take care if I do find something. Just don’t get your hopes up.”

  Mike didn’t know if he was upset or relieved. Given the condition of the body, the note was the only thing linking him to the other two. He wondered if the killer planned on it taking so long to find the body. If Greg does find a note and they aren’t able to read it, whatever the killer was trying to say would be lost forever.

  Mike took a couple of steps away from the body in need of fresh air. He looked around the crime scene gauging the location.

  “The body doesn’t look like it’s been moved right Greg?” Mike asked over his shoulder.

  “I don’t see any traces of fluids around but since I wasn’t able to find any wounds that doesn’t mean anything. I don’t know if this was the original crime scene if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Just wondering if this was the original dump sight.”

  “Can’t say for sure. Your tech guys can tell you that.”

  They stood on top of a dirt pile in the middle of an abandoned dry dump. Kids had come down with their dirt bikes and manipulated some of the debris creating their own obstacle courses on which to ride. However, that spot was far enough away they could have been down there hundreds of times and never seen the body.

  Kevin ran over making sure to maintain a wide radius from the body. “I’ve got a dozen or so cops knocking on doors over in that subdivision to see if there’s anyone who might remember seeing anything strange within the past two weeks. Greg said that was the general timeline of the drop. Plus I sent a couple of guys over to the hospital to see about talki
ng to the hospital administrator and get a list of employees and patients who were around that time too.”

  “You’re not going to get a list of patients,” Mike said matter-of-factly.

  “Probably not but at least he’ll know to expect a warrant if that ends up being the route we need to take. I doubt that’ll even be necessary but I’d rather be thorough. Hey…uh…did Greg mention anything about…a…note…maybe?” Kevin asked.

  “No. At least he hasn’t found one yet. He’s having a hard enough time getting the body in the bag in one piece so looking for a note isn’t his first priority. And one point of clarification, Greg said the guy’s been dead for around two weeks. He didn’t say anything about when it was dropped. There’s a big difference. Be sure you make that clear when asking questions.”

  Kevin contemplated, swallowing hard now and then as he tried to maintain some composure. “Oh, right, okay. Um…you think they might be related?” He asked his favorite question.

  “No,” Mike said dismissively although he didn’t believe it. The burning in his gut told him Greg would find the note during the autopsy but he worried it might have disintegrated due to the condition of the body. If the killer made a mistake, they were screwed. He wanted to get back to the station and add more details to his whiteboard. It always helped him think and clear out the accumulated mental notes.

  He shook his head. “Hey, listen I’m gonna’ go back to the station and get some things squared away. Are you good with finishing up here?”

  Kevin huffed but didn’t argue. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

  Mike turned and walked down the mound ignoring the pout.

  “Greg,” Mike shouted.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll call you as soon as I get something,” Greg responded shooing him away with a wave of his hand.

  Mike waved his hand over his shoulder and headed toward his car. He thought about checking in with Suzanne but decided against it. She had reverted to calling him “Detective” and he didn’t take that as a good sign. The past twenty-four hours took its toll and he felt her shutting down. He decided to wait until tomorrow to call. There were still some unanswered questions but he decided a good night’s sleep in her own bed might do her attitude some good.