by Gen Griffin
“I-I-I d-d-don't even know who your wife is,” Kerry stuttered.
“Oh come on now. You mean to tell me your fellow officers didn't even bother briefing you about who you were chasing?” Curtis shrugged his massive shoulders at Kerry. “By the way, I really appreciate the police radio you keep in your den. It's been real useful in terms of keeping me up to date on whats being done to find me.”
“Where's the truck?” Kerry asked because he honestly had no idea what to say to the dangerous man in his kitchen. “They said you had Addy's truck.”
“You don't use your garage much, do you?” Curtis asked.
“Never,” Kerry admitted reluctantly.
Curtis laughed and took another bite of his sandwich. “If you used your garage more, you'd know where that truck was.”
Kerry didn't know what to say to that. He looked down at the gun at his feet and then back to the gun that was sitting on the table next to the murderer. “Why are you in my house?”
“Because no one is going to look for me here.” He talked while he chewed.
“How do you know where I live?” Kerry demanded. “For that matter, how do you even know who I am?”
“Which question you want the answer to first?”
“Um, I guess I want to know why you're in my house?” Kerry looked down at his gun again and debated whether he could pick it up and get a shot off at the murderer before the murderer shot him. Probably not. He wasn't a great shot.
“I already answered that one, loser. I'm in your house because its one place that I'm absolutely 100 percent sure no one is going to look for me. And as to how I found the house, I looked up the property tax records on my phone. Its not hard.” Curtis shrugged at him.
“You do realize I'm a cop, right?”
Curtis laughed. “You're the cop that everybody in this town hates.”
“That doesn't make me any less of a cop.” Kerry took a deep breath. “You're under arrest.”
“Don't be stupid,” Curtis waved his hand casually in Kerry's direction. “You're not going to turn me in.”
“Of course I am.”
“No, you're not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No. You won't.” Curtis smiled through a mouthful of ham and cheese. “You're going to help me.”
“Why would you think I would help you?” Kerry asked, genuinely baffled. “You're a wanted criminal.”
“And you're the guy everybody in town hates.” Curtis kept eating as he spoke. “You so much as pick up the phone to try to turn me in, and I'm going to tell the Sheriff all about what good friends you and I are. I'm going to make sure that he knows you've been my accomplice this whole time.”
“What?” Kerry gaped at him in shock. “I've never even seen you before in my life!”
“And you think that's going to make a difference to the rest of the cops around here?” Curtis countered with a cluck of his tongue. “They all want you off the force. I'll be gift wrapping them for you. They're not going to investigate to clear your name.”
Kerry wanted to argue but he knew the murderer was right. “How do you know they all hate me?” He asked reluctantly. “You haven't been in this town that long.”
“I've been here longer than you think,” Curtis replied. “Trish only thought I didn't know where she'd gone. I'm a lawyer. I had a friend of mine from law school pull some strings at the courthouse and tell me where she was having all her divorce correspondence mailed to. I've been watching her for weeks.”
“Trish?” Kerry blinked at Curtis. “You shot Addison over Trish?”
“He deserved it,” Curtis said flatly. “It's his fault she's still here.”
“What?”
“Trish caught me with a hooker and she got her panties all wadded up over it,” Curtis said flatly. “It wasn't the first time she'd threatened to divorce me, so I wasn't real worried when she told me that she was leaving. Trish has always been real shy. Real quiet. Awkward around people. Doesn't ever know what to say when she's in a crowd.”
“Why does any of this matter?” Kerry asked.
“It matters because she should have been miserable here,” Curtis snapped. “I thought a month or two away from me living in a shithole little town might be just the thing to remind Trisha that she doesn't have a life without me. I figured she'd get sad and lonely. I thought she'd come crawling back home where she belongs. But she didn't. Because she met Officer Fuck Buddy. He doesn't have very high standards for women, does he?”
“Addison?” Kerry was so lost it wasn't even funny. “Not really. He's not picky.”
“Didn't figure he was. The first time I saw him, I didn't think he'd go for her. Guy like that could have any girl he wants. He doesn't need the fat ones.” Curtis shook his head with visible disgust. “I thought he'd ignore her. Next thing I know, she's telling me she's made friends with the next door neighbor and he's a good guy.”
“I'm sorry. I still don't understand why this matters?” Kerry said. “I mean, get another girlfriend. You said yourself that she wasn't that pretty. Why kill someone over her?”
“Because she's ruining my career with her accusations and lies. Did you hear that she accused me of using her law license?”
“I did hear something about that.” Kerry opened his mouth and then closed it again because he truly had no idea what to say.
“Thanks to Trish, my career is over,” Curtis said. “And so is yours.”
“Wait. I'm sorry. What?” Kerry was sure he hadn't heard the other man right.
“I broke into Trish's house. She's working on filing a lawsuit that will get you permanently removed from the Sheriff's Department. She's going to ruin you, Kerry. I saw her paperwork. She's been very thorough. You'll never work in law enforcement again.”
“It's just a complaint,” Kerry muttered uncertainly.
“Its a civil lawsuit that is going to cost this county millions of dollars.”
“She won't win.”
“Yes, she will. Everyone in this county hates you. No jury is going to find in your favor. You don't have any friends.”
Kerry looked away from Curtis. He wanted to argue but the truth in Curtis's words mirrored his own fears all to well. “What do you want from me?”
“A little assistance. I thought we might be able to work together.” Curtis held out his hands in a broad shrug. “I figure getting rid of Trish permanently will solve both of our problems.”
“Why would I help a murderer?”
“What do you have to lose?” Curtis countered.
“My career. My respect. My honesty.”
“Your career is gone the minute Trish files that lawsuit and no one respects you. All you have is your honesty. How is that working out for you?”
“Not well,” Kerry admitted after a minute. “But that still doesn't mean I'll help a killer. How do I know you won't shoot me the same way you shot Addy?”
“I don't like hurting people, Kerry. I shot Officer Fuck Buddy because he deserved to be shot. I was riding home from dinner with Trish a week ago and she'd had too much to drink. She wrecked the car with me in it. Nearly killed me. Officer Fuck Buddy responded to the scene and, instead of taking my report, he threatened me and beat me up. I still have bruises from where he threw me to the ground and told me to stay away from my own wife.”
“Wait, Addison didn't report a DUI?” Kerry wasn't entirely shocked.
“She sucked him off so he wouldn't charge her.”
“Typical.” Kerry swallowed a lump in his throat. “Welcome to law enforcement in Possum Creek.”
“He threatened me again right before I shot him. He said he was going to kill me. I was just trying to make amends with my wife and he threatened me. I pulled my gun on him because I was afraid for my life.”
“If that were true, why didn't you just go the police and admit what happened?” Kerry asked.
“In this town?” Curtis snorted and started in on the second half of his sandwich. “No one here cares
about the truth, Kerry. You should know that better than anyone.”
“Fine. Even if you're telling the truth about Addison, it still doesn't explain why you killed Grover.” Kerry crossed his arms over his chest. He was starting to think that Curtis wasn't going to kill him after all.
“Whatever happened to being innocent until proven guilty?” Curtis countered. “I didn't kill Trish's grandfather. I was in the room talking with him and he had a heart attack. He was a sick old man. I had every right to visit him. I'm his grandson-in-law.”
“But Trish said-.”
“Trish wants me to go to prison forever. If I'm charged with murder, she'll get everything in our divorce.”
“Oh.” Kerry truly hadn't thought about that.
“Trish is a lying little whore who wants to be free from her marriage vows without any of the social consequences that normally accompany a divorce. She knows that I have proof that she cheated on me. She's afraid to go in front of a judge.”
“You're saying there is no truth to any of her accusations?” Kerry was having a hard time keeping the facts straight.
“None,” Curtis confirmed. “I'm really the victim here. You see that, don't you?”
“I think you deserve the chance to defend yourself in court,” Kerry said. “As stupid as I know this sounds, I still have faith in the law.”
“You still have faith in the law.” Curtis laughed. “You're a dreamer, aren't you?”
Kerry didn't answer.
“You know that the good Lord helps those who help themselves, right?” Curtis asked.
“My grandmother used to say that all the time,” Kerry said. “What does it have to do with the present situation?”
“What are you going to do after Trish ruins your career?” Curtis asked. “You'll never get another law enforcement job again. Except maybe as a mall cop. How do you feel about being Kerry Longwood, Mall Cop?”
“I don't know,” Kerry admitted. “Not something I want to think about.”
“Help yourself, Kerry. Trish is crooked. She's a criminal with no respect for the law. She's going to abuse its power to hurt good people like you. I read those documents she was preparing. Is there really a murderer running loose in this little town?”
Kerry frowned and then nodded. “David Breedlove. He's best friends with Addison. He killed a girl back when we were all in high school. Everybody in town knows he did it.”
“You've been trying to get justice for that girl, haven't you?” Curtis smiled at Kerry.
“I have,” Kerry confirmed. “Her name was Casey Black. She was my friend.”
“If Trish has her way, your friend will never see any justice. No one else in this town will fight for that girl after you're thrown off the case.”
“I know,” Kerry acknowledged with a nod. “It makes me sick.”
“Lot of injustice for one little town.”
“Yeah. Folks who run Possum Creek are pretty shady.”
“How about I make you a deal?” Curtis asked.
Kerry hesitated and then decided it wouldn't hurt to hear the man out. Almost everything Curtis had said to him tonight made sense. Maybe Curtis really was being set up for a fall. God knew, Kerry had been set up for enough falls by Addison and his friends. No reason to think they wouldn't screw over Curtis and ruin his life too. “What kind of a deal?”
“You help me, I'll help you.”
“Help me how?”
“You get to keep your job.”
“I won't help you kill anyone.”
“Never said I was going to kill her,” Curtis clarified. “But she's ruined enough lives. She needs to pay for her lies.”
“And this will help me how?”
“Because she won't be filing that lawsuit against you.”
“I don't know. I could get in real trouble if I help you,” Kerry said.
“What if I help you catch your murderer and bring him to justice?”
Kerry froze in place. “You'll help me put David in jail?”
“I'm an attorney,” Curtis said. “I'll help you put him under the jail.”
Kerry considered the offer for a long moment. “And if I don't help you?”
“Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of options open to me right now. I'd rather work with you than against you, Kerry.”
Kerry took a deep breath in and then sighed. “I want to see David rot in prison for what he did to Casey. She deserved more than buried in a shallow grave underneath David's porch. I want to see her buried properly.”
“Buried underneath David's porch?” Curtis asked.
“We found her body last week. At least, I'm pretty sure its going to turn out to be her body. Can't think of anyone else who David would have killed.” Kerry sighed. “I want nothing more than to see David brought to justice.”
Curtis smiled at Kerry. “Then we have a deal?”
“I wasn't under the impression you were giving me a choice,” Kerry said, uncertainty churning in his stomach. “Can I pick up my gun now?”
“Go ahead,” Curtis replied. “Unlike everyone else in this town, I trust you.”
Chapter 7
“Do I even want to ask what happened to your bed?” Nanette Shallowman Cruz was sitting awkwardly on the edge of Trish's mattress. The mattress had been sitting directly on the floor of the bedroom ever since Trish and David had broken the bed during sex, revealing that the box spring had been more or less held together with duct tape and stolen jewelry.
“Um. No,” Trish tightened her grip on the robe she had wrapped around herself. Her hair was still dripping from the shower. “I didn't know you were home.”
Nanette shrugged her delicate shoulders and then wrapped her arms around her knees. She'd worn a pretty pink floral sundress to the funeral home. It was now bunched and wrinkled around her hips as her navy blue panty-hose boldly managed to hide the fact she hadn't shaved in something like twenty years. “I only got in a few minutes ago.”
“How was the funeral home?” Trish tightened the belt on her robe in hopes of staying decent.
“Oh gosh, Trish. It was...unreal.” Nanette plucked at a run in her hose with fingernails that had been chewed to the quick. “And Grover, being Grover, went out of his way to make things as difficult as possible for everyone involved. It appears that he's been planning his funeral for awhile. The instructions he gave the funeral director-.” She laid her cheek on her own knee.
“Tell me he didn't donate the house to the National Rifle Association?” Trish could only imagine what Grover's instructions looked like.
“No. Thankfully no. He left the house to me in his will. I'll sign it over to you before I go back to Brooksville. Its been paid off since I was a teenager, so you won't have to worry about a mortgage. Your bills should be pretty low. Assuming you still want to stay in Possum Creek?” Nanette blinked up at Trish. “Its your choice what you do with the house. Really. You don't have to stay here. You can sell the house.”
“I like the house,” Trish informed her mother. “It needs a little updating, but its a nice house.”
Nanette nodded. “Maybe you do. You couldn't pay me to move back to Possum Creek. I hate this house. I hate small towns.”
Mother and daughter stared at one another awkwardly for a moment.
“Tell me about the funeral plans.” Trish finally spoke just to break the silence.
“He picked the most expensive casket the funeral home has to offer. It costs $9,000.”
“The casket costs what?” Trish did a double take. “How is that possible?”
“It's possible. He also left specific instructions for a headstone with a shotgun etched onto the marble and an epithet that tells whoever reading it to kiss his hairy white ass.” Nanette ran one hand through her hair, removing several of the bobby pins that were keeping it in place. “He also requested the high school marching band perform an hour long concert and a 21 gun salute.”
“I didn't know Grover had been in the military,” Trish commente
d.
“He wasn't,” Nanette drawled out the second word for emphasis. “He just liked guns.”
“Oh.” Trish sat down on the edge of the mattress near her mother. She really wished Nanette had saved the funeral arrangements discussion for the morning. She was utterly exhausted and not entirely sure her brain was capable of processing the important part of this conversation. So far, other than the news that she was inheriting a house that no one else actually wanted, nothing in this discussion had particularly stood out to her as being important.
“The cost for the final arrangements he picked out came to over $25,000.”
Trish nearly choked on her own saliva. “We're throwing Grover a $25,000 funeral?”
“No. Of course not.” The corners of Nanette's mouth turned up ever so slightly. “I haven't sat through all those financial management classes with Perry for nothing. The funeral director is Whitt Jones. He was in the same graduating class as I was. I told him that I could think of roughly a thousand better uses of $25,000. He promised me he could give us a nice, classy service for under $5,000.”
“Okay. So, no 21 gun salute or marching band?” Trish was too tired to be relieved.
“He and my mother had already purchased a pair of plots next to one another. We're going to have a small memorial in the funeral home chapel on Wednesday morning and follow it immediately with a very short graveside service and the actual burial. Whitt told me that the entire process won't last more than two hours.”
“Wow. That's...efficient. I guess.”
Nanette nodded. “The simpler the better, I think. Grover wasn't exactly a well-liked pillar of the community. I doubt very many people will show up, though we are in the south and funerals do tend to be major social events.”
“The entire senior center will probably show up.”
“They probably just want to make sure he's really dead,” Nanette yawned. “Tell the mailman his route is safe again.”
Trish was too tired to laugh. “The funeral is Wednesday?”
Nanette nodded. “I was hoping they would be able to do it tomorrow but no luck. Wednesday morning was the first opening they had.”
