The Usher

by Will Pettijohn

  “Now face the bunk on the wall and we’ll get you out of these chains. Just like before, don’t move and everything will be fine,” the supervisor said as he closed the door behind him.

  Young faced the bunk, and the chains and shackles were slowly removed. The last thing to come off were his handcuffs. He stood perfectly still until he heard the door open and then close again. He turned around and took a look at his new home; an eighth of an inch of dust covered everything.

  A stainless-steel toilet and sink filled one corner, and a folded-up mattress that would barely stop him from sliding through the bars was on the bed frame. There were no sheets, and there was no blanket or pillow, just the mattress and him. He unfolded the mattress, dusted it off, and sighed as he sat down.

  Chapter 7

  Rick strolled happily into his precinct and made his way to the appropriate floor. He bounced out of the elevator and rushed over to his desk. T-Bone watched. His longtime partner seemed a little too happy. He looked both ways as if to make sure no one could hear him. “Are you on drugs, Rick?” he asked, and waited for a reply. Rick simply looked at his old friend and shook his head, smiling.

  “Okay, okay … I can’t take it anymore. What the hell are you so happy about? Did it all finally get to ya, brotha? Did ya finally snap?” T-Bone prodded.

  “No, nothing like that. Can’t I just be happy every once in a while?” Rick smirked.

  “I’ve known you a long time, Bubba. I’ve seen you win two hundred and fifty dollars on a scratch-off lottery ticket and you weren’t this happy. So what happened?”

  Rick smiled and looked T-Bone in the eye. “I talked to Judge Mathews. He said for us to get him all the info and he’ll sign the warrant. Ha ha,” Rick whispered loudly.

  “Wow! You are the man, brotha,” T-Bone said as he stood up and high-fived his partner.

  Rick and T-Bone walked over to Captain Dickie’s office and leaned on the door frame. The captain noticed them, but was on the phone. “Yeah, yeah … I know, honey. I’ll try to get out of here at a decent hour,” he said and rolled his eyes at his two favorite detectives. “Yes, okay, I’ll see ya then. I love you too. Bye,” they heard him say, and then he hung up the phone.

  The two detectives walked in and stood in front of the desk. “Can you believe that I’ve got to entertain my army hero father-in-law for the next three days?” Dickie said. Rick and T-Bone looked at each other with curled noses as if they were trying to figure out a bad smell that filled the room.

  “It’s not enough that she tells me I’m fat and unhealthy; now I’ve got to take him along for every trip that I take to the store, and every afternoon he’ll want to sit and tell me how successful he has been in life. How the hell am I gonna sneak away to Happy Burger if he’s with me?” he said. He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, looking like a spoiled child.

  Rick stood up straight and smiled big, looking at T-Bone. “Captain, I’m real sorry that you have to go through that this week, but I’ve got something that will make it all better,” he said, and he leaned over Dickie’s desk.

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

  “I just had lunch with Judge Mathews; he said he’ll sign the warrant,” Rick answered and smiled bigger.

  “You are kidding me, right? You lucky son of a bitch! How did ya persuade him to do it?”

  “I really didn’t say anything other than the truth. Mathews walked out and I thought to myself, ‘Son of a bitch … I’m gonna go to jail,’ but then he walked back in and told me he would sign the warrant,” Rick explained. He backed into a chair by the door without looking and took a seat.

  “Well, so what are you gonna do with this gift that he’s giving to you, Rick?”

  “I’m gonna see that dirty bastard get the death penalty for what he’s done. It’ll be admissible into evidence, now that we have a warrant. And that will make all the difference in the world.”

  “I’m glad the judge didn’t put ya in jail, Rick. I would’ve denied everything if it had come down to it,” Dickie said as he leaned back in his chair, raising his arms to his head and locking his hands behind his neck.

  “Yeah, I was worried there for a bit. When he walked out of the deli, my heart sank in my chest and I just knew I was gonna have to defend myself in court for bribery of an official, or attempting to falsify a legal document,” Rick said with a sigh.

  He cleared his throat and continued. “But then he walked right back in and asked if I knew for a fact that Young was guilty. I felt like a schoolgirl at the prom who just got asked to dance, ha ha,” he said cartoon-like, and they all began to laugh out loud.

  Chapter 8

  Colt finished searching his home. He walked outside through the back door, holding the gun by his side so none of his neighbors could see it if they looked at him over the fence. He looked around the yard but didn’t find anyone or anything that seemed out of place. He placed the pistol into his waistband, opened the gate on the side of the house, and made his way around to the front yard.

  He looked around at his surrounding neighborhood and noticed Widow Barnes’s front porch light shining. He spotted her in the front yard with her hands on her hips. She turned to see Colt standing in his yard and smiled, then held on to her walker with one hand as she slowly raised the other and waved to him as if to say thank you. Colt smiled and waved back at her, and looked around again before going inside.

  He took the note from his pocket and looked again. “Need your services” … He didn’t know what the person wanted, but he did know that he would be ready for anything. After all, he had almost been framed for several gruesome murders. Hell, he didn’t even know that Young was still angry over the last time they had met. But he remembered the way in which Young pursued him the last time. Young had almost been like an angry boyfriend when they had gone to court. He had attacked Colt with his eyes throughout the trial, and when the verdict was “not guilty,” … Young lost it.

  Colt walked into his house and went to his study. He reached over a stack of papers and picked up the phone. He held the slip of paper up and dialed *67 and then the number. After a couple of rings he heard “Hello?” The voice was a frail, slightly raspy male voice. The man sounded old—maybe even sick.

  “Hello … I found a note on my door with this number on it,” he said, and then he paused to hear the explanation. Colt knew that if this was a setup, the person would want him to be surprised.

  “Yes, sir … I placed the note on your door,” the man’s voice replied. “I noticed that you, umm … clean yards?” The man paused several times, as if he were surprised by the call.

  Colt could hear the age in the man’s voice as he listened. “Yes, sir, I’ve been known to help people out on occasion,” he said as he walked around his desk and took a seat.

  He waited for the message that he was supposed to get, the one that explained the note. “Well, I’m glad to see that we have someone in the neighborhood to do this kind of work. Did you know the Lackey boys?”

  Colt paused for a second, trying to gather himself. “No, I can’t say that I recognize the name.”

  “Oh … well, they were the yard guys before they left. Moved to Houston or somewhere like that, I think.”

  “What can I do for you, mister?” he asked. He paused for a moment as he waited for the man to answer. There was usually a code that was spoken by his handler. Gamboni was his usual contact when he received notice of a job. But Gamboni did have Berto contact him on a few occasions.

  “Oh … umm … my name is William Sacks. You can just call me Bill. I need my lawn cleaned. I’m getting too old to do it myself, and the Lackey boys cleaned it last year for me. I talked to Tom McElroy, and he said it was you who was cleaning the yard. So I went over and placed the note on your door, after McElroy told me where you lived. He said he didn’t know you, but that you said you were d
oing it to help her.”

  Colt looked at the note he was holding in his hand and read it to confirm. He realized that this man was not a client or an enemy. He was just one of his neighbors. He had passed by as Colt was cleaning the leaves out of Widow Barnes’ yard. That man Thomas must not have believed that I was doing this for free for Widow Barnes, but he still told Mr. Sacks I would probably clean his yard, he thought.

  “Well, I usually don’t clean people’s yards, Mr. Sacks. I was simply trying to help Widow Thomas out with her yard because she doesn’t have anyone to help her,” he said. Colt deliberately used the wrong name of the woman to see if this man was really a neighbor or just someone who gathered a little info before placing the note on his door. Sometimes he used the local people to help him get info on a target as well. He was no stranger to the games that people play to trap or distract a mark.

  “You mean Widow Barnes, don’t ya?” the man corrected.

  “Yes, sir. I was thinking about another woman I know,” Colt explained as if to tell the truth. He now knew that the man was from around the area and probably was on the level. “So you need your yard cleaned, huh?” Colt asked.

  “Yes, sir. How much do you charge to clean yards?”

  “I usually don’t clean yards, Mr. Sacks.”

  “Well, I just noticed you cleaning Widow Barnes’s yard. I talked to Tom McElroy about ya, and I figured since you lost your job at the bank, that you’d maybe clean mine,” Sacks said, but he was suddenly interrupted by Colt.

  “Why in the world does everyone keep saying that I lost my job at the bank?” he snapped.

  “I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to pry. I just heard that you lost your job and that you were cleaning yards now to support your family.”

  “Ha ha. I didn’t lose my job at the bank, Mr. Sacks. I didn’t lose my job there because I have never worked at a bank. I’m in the import and export business—acquisitions of sorts,” Colt corrected the misinformed man.

  “Oh, I’m sorry; I didn’t know … So do you clean yards now or not?” Sacks asked, and then he coughed loudly into the phone.

  “Not usually. I simply helped an old widow woman who needed it.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I wasted your time, sir. You have a good night,” Sacks said, and then he hung up the phone.

  Colt looked at the phone and chuckled. He had been worried that the man who left the note was going to be trouble, but he wasn’t trouble at all; he was just a confused neighbor.

  He hung up the phone and looked around at his office … What a pig sty! he thought. He pushed his chair away from the desk and stretched out his muscular arms. He wasn’t used to physical labor, and it showed. His knees hurt, his back ached, and he was just plain tired. He decided to go and watch some television in the living room.

  He walked over to the doorway and looked at a picture of Emily and Hanna on the wall. He missed them terribly. The picture had been taken at the Dallas Zoo. His mind drifted back to the day he took them there. Hanna had a huge smile on her face as Emily held her in front of the giraffe exhibit. He remembered the tall bridge that was provided to pass the giraffes. And as you passed overhead, they would come and stare at you, large amber eyes begging for the graham crackers that were available for patrons to feed them.

  It was taken last summer; he had to go there to meet Tony. That was the day they had officially met for the first time. Tony owned the meat market where a lot of unmentionable people hung out. Colt had been there, and the front worked pretty well. The real business took place in the back, and you couldn’t tell that it was anything other than a butcher shop. Colt knew it was an appropriate name, and he also knew that according to the things he had heard, Tony was the butcher. Tony was a small fish in a big pond, and sometimes even a small fish eats the big fish. He took bets as a bookie and ran a few other small-time gigs out of it.

  But he always kept a couple of people working in the front just for show. You could go there and get fresh sausage, ribs, roasts, and a few other things. It was a nine-to-five show for the cops, and there were actually customers who bought meat out of it as well.

  He remembered having to meet Tony because he had to pick up a car for Gamboni from him. He normally didn’t have Emily and Hanna with him, but he had taken his family because Hanna cried as he was about to leave. Colt was a good father, and he didn’t see any reason they couldn’t come along and enjoy the zoo for a while before the meeting.

  He didn’t have very many days away from his family except for out-of-town trips when he had to go to Las Vegas, New Mexico, or even more local in Texas where he wasn’t able to return in the same day. He even had to go to Chicago a couple of times to take care of business, but these were really the only times he was away from home overnight. Gamboni had connections in most of the states, which meant there would be people who needed to be killed there eventually.

  Tony was a good connection, and Colt had used him a few times for favors since the friendship had been made a year ago. But like any other friendship, Tony called on Colt from time to time as well. The business of killing was based on a very select set of skills, and to make a career out of it meant that you had to be very disciplined and even a ghost in a sense. You couldn’t leave any trace of your presence or any DNA that could link you to the crime. The detectives call these types of killers a ghost. Anyone can kill, but to make it a career, you had to be good at it.

  He paused and looked at his watch. Eight o’clock. He realized it was late, turned the light off, and walked into the living room. He sat in the large recliner and reached for the remote. He found the power button and searched for the appropriate channel. He loved to watch Forensic Files, one of his favorite shows.

  He’d even learned how to keep from leaving evidence and DNA at crime scenes by watching the show. The police and television people didn’t realize that they gave away entirely too much information when making one of those shows. Not much was left undiscussed, and Colt enjoyed listening to the detectives brag about the reasons the killer was caught. In reality they were making sure that anyone who watched the show learned from it and prevented any careless mistakes from being made.

  Colt was a cold and calculating person. He was very aware that emotions are the main reason that people are messy and make mistakes when committing a crime. He knew there could be no emotion involved for a hit to be clean.

  The technique he’d used on the last person he’d killed was stolen from an episode he’d seen on the show. The man on the show was a cross-dresser and having problems in his life. The killer had dressed the victim in women’s clothes and then made it look as if he had taken his own life. When the investigators found him, he had been dead for four days and the scene was gruesome.

  The only reason the investigators had any idea it was a murder was a small piece of paper that had fallen out of the killer’s pocket beside the victim, and choke marks on the front of the throat. There was no writing on the paper, only the killer’s fingerprints. When the police attempted to talk to the man, he fled. When he was caught later, he confessed to the murder.

  This show was the way that Colt had gotten ideas and then decided how to kill several of his victims without ending up on Forensic Files. He would watch an episode and then remember it as he was deciding how to kill someone. Sometimes it was simple, but sometimes he was creative and the crime made the newspapers. He learned from the mistakes that had gotten the others busted, and he paid attention to many of the details. After he knew the basics of how to be a killer, the rest was just a matter of tweaking his skills and getting better each time.

  Some of the murders had even made the front page of the Dallas Morning News. For the most part, he didn’t want anyone to know he had done it. But as it is with all killers, a part of him wanted the fame and recognition that comes with killing and creating a masterpiece while doing so. The detectives who were responsible f
or picking up the pieces and investigated many of his victims usually had the same look of confusion on their faces.

  They seemed confused and dismayed when they couldn’t figure out who had killed the victims: there were some true cold-case files. They usually publicized the murders as unsolved. But occasionally Colt could kill two birds with one stone and have another criminal investigated for the crime he had committed. The police needed a perpetrator, and he needed someone out of the way. When they found the one Colt wanted them to find, they were so set on the small piece of evidence Colt had let them find that the unknowing perpetrator would usually be convicted.

  These were normally small-time criminals who killed out of despair or anger. They would leave their evidence at crime scenes and run like the wind to get away. Colt was different … He wasn’t tied to his victims in any way. He was emotionally detached from the victims he had to deal with. Occasionally, he had to kill people whom he did know, and there were times that he felt as if their crime didn’t fit their punishment. These were the hardest to kill, but he didn’t make any haste in following his orders.

  Colt knew he had only a couple of days before Emily and Hanna came home from visiting family. He missed his wife and daughter very much. He missed the feeling of being loved and needed, as we all do when it is gone. His mind drifted back to six days earlier when he’d had to send his family away. He had never faced the odds he did when he learned that Young was trying to frame him. He went over all the pieces, and as he sat and watched television, he began to feel alone and secluded.