The Usher

by Will Pettijohn

  As the door opened, Young could see that it was a gym. The basketball goals were rusted and there were no nets in them. The floors were dry and the wax was all worn off. Nonetheless, it was a gym. Young looked at the guard and followed his direction when prodded to enter. Young’s restraints were all removed, and he stood there as the guard gathered all the chains and other restraints. “You have one hour of recreation time, Young. Use it wisely,” the guard told him before backing out and then closing the door.

  Young looked around the room for a ball or something to keep his attention for an hour. There was nothing there. There were only four very tall walls, a ceiling, two doors, and basketball goals. He made his way over to a wall and sat down. At least he was out of that dammed cell for a bit. He knew he could use a break from that awful place even if only for an hour. … “I guess James came through for me after all!” He spoke out loud to himself.

  He sat there and looked at the windows and then at the rusted basketball goals. The goals were just sitting there in a state of suspended animation … decaying as if abandoned, the same way he was.

  After what seemed only twenty minutes, the door opened and the guard entered the old gym. This time, he was accompanied by two other guards, much smaller than he was. Young stood up and began walking toward them. “So I’m guessing this is the VIP gym?” he said sarcastically but with a grin. The guards didn’t reply and stopped walking after entering the gym. “Turn and face the wall,” one guard snapped as he pointed at the nearest wall. Young complied and was soon restrained by the hardened steel again.

  They then led him back down the corridor to another door. The guard opened the door and entered a long hallway. They proceeded down the path to the third set of doors on the right. As one guard opened the door, the other guard began to explain, “You’ll have ten minutes for a shower and then you’ll be taken to your cell.”

  Young listened and was glad he would finally get his much desired shower. He hadn’t showered since he’d been at the Dallas County Jail in Dallas. It had been three days, and even he had begun to smell himself. He was led into the large shower room and into the back of the room to the last shower. A small dim light was glowing from the ceiling. This section of the prison seemed to have been abandoned for some time now. The guard stood close by after removing his chains and shackles.

  Young watched as the guard stared at him. “Are you going to stand there the whole time?” he asked. The guard nodded. Young unrobed as the guard watched. There was an old piece of lye soap on the metal rack in front of him. Young recognized it immediately. Lye soap was a strong solution of sodium hydroxide or potassium hydroxide used in industrial drain and oven cleaners. The soap was stained with rust from the old metal soap holder it sat upon.

  “Is there no regular soap that I can use, guard?” Young asked as he held up the misshaped bar of soap. The guard continued to stare as if Young hadn’t asked the question at all. Young turned the handle and stood back when the water began to trickle. He turned the handle more and waited for the water to turn warm. After a few moments, the guard asked, “What are you doing?”

  “I am waiting for the water to get hot.”

  “The water doesn’t get hot in this section of the prison. The boiler hasn’t been turned on for years.”

  “So how am I supposed to take a shower?”

  “I guess you’ll have to take a cold shower. You now have three minutes to shower and get dressed.”

  “Isn’t this against my civil rights?”

  “I don’t believe you are being mistreated, Agent Young. The warden said we have to protect you and keep you away from the other inmates. This is the safest way for you to shower. Now you have two and a half minutes to finish your shower.”

  Young looked in dismay as he entered the cold water. His skin tightened with the shock of the cold water upon his body. But the chill wasn’t enough to prevent his knowing he needed a shower. He knew he was being punished for being a dirty FBI agent, but he refused to let them see that it bothered him.

  He began to hum a tune as he grabbed the soap and began to lather up. His tune got faster and he began to shake from the cold. After finishing his shower quickly he turned the water off. He looked around for a towel and then asked the guard, “Is there a towel to dry off with?”

  The guard looked around and found an old, dirty, dust-covered towel that resembled a kitchen towel. “Here ya go,” he said as he threw the towel to Young. Young caught the filthy towel and again decided not to let the man get to him. He tossed the towel to the floor and used his coveralls to dry off and then climbed into them. He hated the fact that he was being treated this way. Young had managed to go from a public hero to living like a prisoner of war in many ways.

  As one guard placed the shackles and chains on him again, Young simply stared into the dimly lit room and waited to get back to his cell … the place that had become his sanctuary in some sadistic and medieval way. He hurried behind the guard as they moved back through the prison. He watched as his cell door grew closer. He couldn’t help but wonder about the man in the cell next to him. He wondered if he would ever have the chance to meet him. He imagined and hoped he would have a friend here in this hell, but it was unlikely.

  Chapter 22

  Rick and T-Bone made their way into the police station. They talked while in the elevator about the plan to go and interview Young at the federal facility in Beaumont. “I hope Cap lets us go tomorrow,” Rick said as he pushed the button.

  “Well, if he doesn’t, we’ll have to go Monday. You know how he is about overtime,” T-Bone countered.

  “I guess I mean that I hope he doesn’t say no altogether. I just hope Young has had an epiphany. Maybe now he’s realizing he has been caught red-handed, and maybe he’ll open his mind and let the law enforcement community get some insight into why he has done these horrible things,” Rick explained and then watched the door open. T-Bone raised his eyebrows and looked at his longtime partner. “Yeah and if a frog had wings, he wouldn’t bump his ass when he jumped!”

  The two were still chuckling as they walked into Dickie’s office. “What’s so damn funny?” Dickie demanded.

  “Oh, just something T said in the elevator. Cap … we need to go and see Young in Beaumont,” Rick answered.

  “Why? What’s up now?” Dickie asked.

  “It still doesn’t make sense to me, Cap! There’s something missing. We went back to the Bennigan home, and it still doesn’t feel right. Something about the way the teenage girl who was killed … doesn’t make sense.”

  “So what do you plan to get Young to say? You think he’ll just sit you down and explain it all to you? Why would he say anything at all to you? Hell, you’re the reason he was busted in the first place, especially since we think Archer has something up his sleeve.”

  “We have to try something, Cap,” Rick pleaded. “His trial will be here before we know it, and he’ll be quiet during all of that. Young may not know that the feds weren’t able to get the warrant signed. He may still think he was on tape confessing.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to drive all the damn way to Beaumont and then get the silent treatment.”

  “So that’s a no?”

  “I didn’t say that … but you could least try to convince me. Ya know the way people act when they need or want something from you? Try that.”

  Rick looked around and then at T-Bone. He knelt down and got onto one knee. “Cap … Please let T and me go to Beaumont to ask Young a few questions. I really think there is more to learn about this girl’s death. Oh please, please, please, Captain!”

  Dickie looked at Rick and then embarrassingly whispered, “Get up! I didn’t mean that way. You can go in the morning. But I don’t need you to have a bunch of overtime. You guys get down there and get back. If Young tells you anything new, then I can justify the over
time.”

  “Yes, sir, and thanks, Cap,” Rick said as he stood up and turned to walk out of the office. He stopped and looked back at Dickie with a serious look about him … “Do you think Young has something else to hide, Cap?”

  “What do you mean, Rick?”

  “Well, he has to understand that the FBI went through enough trouble to sting him the way they did. Then he must also know that Archer wasn’t on his side in the end. And now he knows that we also know what all he has done. … So why wouldn’t he just plead and take a lesser sentence?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s not done yet. And then … maybe he feels justified in what he has done. You never know how these crazy sons of bitches think, Rick.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right, Captain … Thanks!” Rick finished and then left the captain’s office. Rick and T-Bone were strained for time, as they had to gather all the fuel requisitions and travel paperwork before the day was over. Rick walked over to the water dispenser, took a paper funnel cup from the holder, and leaned down to fill it. He didn’t push the button. He simply stayed bent over with a look of confusion for a moment. T-Bone asked, “You okay, Bubba?”

  Rick rose back to a standing position and tilted his head. “I think I know what’s up with Young.”

  “Oh yeah, did the water cooler tell you, Rick? I am really starting to worry about you. Bouncing around here all happy … talking to the water cooler and shit.”

  Rick looked at T and began to laugh. “Ha ha … no … I was thinking about the girl and then it hit me. Young must have known that girl, and she must have helped him gain access and then he had to kill her because she would be the only witness.”

  “What makes you think that, Rick? I mean … what if the water cooler is wrong?”

  “Well … he wasn’t angry at her like he was the others. He didn’t plan out the murder as in-depth as he did the others, so the only explanation was that he decided to kill her at the last minute—I’m assuming because he did not want to leave any witnesses.”

  “Wow, I think I’m gonna drink more water. But why do you think he knew her and that’s why he didn’t make it look like the others? Wouldn’t he know that investigators would think about that?”

  “I believe he would have created the same kind of scene with her as well if he hadn’t run out of time. When he killed her as an afterthought, the ability to spend that much more time at the house was gone, and he had to hurry and finish.”

  “Man, you’re doing that creepy white guy detective shit again. … You know the one I mean … He talks slow and sits in a wheelchair? He solves crimes and shit without knowing any of the details. What reason would he have to be on a time line? Wouldn’t he have planned all of that out before he even got to the Bennigans’ house?”

  “Ha ha … Yeah, I know the one you mean. Well, he did plan the murder of the Bennigan family, each one of them in vivid detail. But I don’t think he planned killing the girl. I believe it was a spur-of-the-moment thought, and that after he killed her, he began to get nervous.”

  “So why are you thinking now that he ran out of time and decided to kill the girl?”

  “That’s not all … I believe it was because he had an emotional attachment to the girl.”

  “Umm … Huh?”

  “Think about it. You’re a well-known investigator and somehow you meet this young girl. After you woo her with your charm, she begins to have an honest admiration for you. You need to frame someone who has a connection to the family, and she is your way in. She admires you and maybe even feels as if she would do anything in the world to make you proud of her. And … she knows the time frame of everyone’s arrival at the house that day.” Rick looked at his partner as if asking whether he was keeping up.

  “Okay … I’m with ya so far, Rick. But why would she hurt her family to help him?”

  “The girl was submissive to Young and his charm. She was easily persuaded to do what he asked. Young probably didn’t tell her he was going to kill them, but it wouldn’t matter anyways. After all, isn’t every teenage girl angry at the people in authority over her? If she was getting positive attention from him and not-so-positive attention from the aunt and uncle … maybe she did know.”

  “Well … I know my little girl has sure been mad enough at me to show all the bad guys where I live. That’s a scary thought.”

  “So I’m thinking that the Bennigans had been taking care of the niece and somehow they got sideways with her. She would have felt all alone and betrayed if the aunt and uncle were on the same team against her. Young made his way in somehow and gained her trust. She was maybe even persuaded to help him kill them and cover it all up.”

  “Hmm, so you think he and the girl were … ?” T-Bone insinuated sex with a hand gesture.

  “Exactly, old friend, and I think there’s a way I can get Young to fall for a couple of old tricks. If he hasn’t planned on it, that is.”

  “What do you have in mind, Bubba?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way to the records room,” Rick said as he threw the unused cup in the trash can beside the water cooler and began walking toward the elevator. T-Bone quickly filled his paper cup and drank the water, looking lost and confused. He caught up to Rick, and the two made their way into the elevator.

  Rick tapped his chin, thinking … “I think that if we take the phone records to the prison with us from the Bennigan residence … Young may fall for the idea that we have him dead to rights as we question him about his contact with the girl.”

  “So what are we going to show him on the phone records?”

  “We aren’t going to show him anything other than what he needs to see. We’ll take a yellow highlighter and mark several calls to and from the Bennigans’ phone. The print is so small that he’ll believe we actually have something on him, and then he’ll begin to get uneasy and just maybe … he’ll slip.”

  “Man, I know I’ve said this before, but remind me to never piss you off. You’re a sneaky son of a bitch, Rick Wise.”

  Ricked laughed and then continued. “I hope he made calls to the Bennigans’ home before the murders. That is the only chess piece that I have to move before Young calls checkmate.”

  Man … I hate chess.”

  “Yeah … I do too, Bubba.”

  Rick knew that if Young felt that he was calling his bluff, he’d simply not say anything to him at all. Young needed to know that Rick and T-Bone were there to let him know he had been sloppy with something, and he’d be hard pressed to believe it unless they came prepared with something believable.

  The two made their way to the records room and then to the counter where the police attendant was stationed behind a steel cage with a small opening at the bottom. Rick looked at the man and said, “Hey, Andy, I need to get the phone records from the Bennigans’ case from about two weeks ago.”

  “Hey, Rick, how’s it going? Hmm … I don’t believe any phone records were ever entered into the records room, Rick.”

  “Are you sure, Andy? I remember the captain telling one of the FBI agents that the phone records were sequestered.”

  “I’ll look to be sure, Rick, but I’m pretty sure there aren’t any,” Andy said as he raised his tiny frame off the chair. He set his sandwich down and made his way to the rows of shelves. After using the crank to open the rows of shelves and revealing the proper shelf, he walked down the row and then to the second large shelf and pulled a large brown records box down. He placed it onto the floor and opened it. Rick and T-Bone watched as the man searched for the hook that would catch Young’s attention and make him feel uneasy in their meeting the next day.

  The man pulled out several tan envelopes, but put them back in after looking at them. He placed the lid back on the box and then put it back onto the shelf again. “There are no phone records in there, Rick. Sorry.”

 
“Dammit! I know there have to be phone records in this case. Where could they have gone?”

  “I’ll check and see if any evidence has been checked out. But I don’t remember seeing any phone records when I got the photos and stuff for you yesterday, Rick,” Andy said as he placed the box back up on the shelf and cranked the rows closed again. He made his way back to his counter, picked up his sandwich, and took another bite. He mumbled something as he began to click the mouse on the computer. After a short while, Andy found his document and was quiet while he searched over it. He then looked up and said, “You’re right, Rick. There was a request by an Agent Archer of the FBI for the phone records the day before I got your request.”

  “Why would he need them? Did you talk to him when he was here?”

  “No … I was off that day. I had a dentist appointment to go to.”

  “Okay, thank you for looking for us. Did he take anything else from the file?”

  Andy searched the file again and shook his head. “Nope, that’s all he took.”

  “Okay, Andy, thanks,” Rick said as the two turned and walked back to the elevator. Rick scratched his head and wondered why Archer hadn’t returned the phone records. It was pretty standard when dealing with a murder that had many agencies involved for them to come and get evidence and search over it. Rick pressed the button to return the two detectives to their offices and said, “I have a bad feeling about this one, Bubba. Archer never said anything to us about getting those records. Archer must have gotten them after he told us about the warrant not being signed and about the request for a change of venue. Why would he need those damn records in the first place unless he didn’t want anyone else to look at them?”

  “I don’t know, Bubba, but I don’t like this game of chess anymore. It seems that there are more than just two players in this one.”