Severed

by Corey Brown

  “You’re welcome.” She smiles at him, a moment hangs between them before Marion says, “Now go on. He’s waiting.”

  Cody raises an eyebrow. “Who is?”

  Marion tips her head toward the front of the house, toward the front porch. Gus is still out there.

  “Go on,” she says. “Scat.”

  The screen door creaks as Cody steps onto the gallery, the sound intruding, disrupting the peaceful night. Cody glances at the Mason jar, noticing it has somehow been refilled. Still leaning back on his chair’s two hind legs, rifle still on his knee, Gus seems to have barely moved a muscle since Cody’s arrival. Or at least barely a muscle since he’d refilled the jar with moonshine.

  Night has stripped away the last of the evening’s sunlight bringing with it a cool Louisiana breeze. As though the day itself had been waiting for this moment, Cody feels drawn to the weathered chair next to Gus.

  Taking his seat, Cody collects the tin cup next to his chair, but hesitates to pick up the four ounce bottle of tonic water.

  “Figured you’d want to cut it with something,” Gus says, staring out into the darkness.

  “Your own blend?”

  Gus nods. “Ain’t my best batch, but it‘ll do.”

  “Tonight, it’s just gotta be the tonic.”

  “Okay by me.”

  Both men sit in silence, not moving, considering their own thoughts.

  “Can you believe this?” Cody says, after a time. “Eighty-nine degrees today and its only March. Some heat wave.”

  Gus nods. “Yeah, ain’t never ‘member anything like it. Not this early.”

  Cody hears a sharp intake of breath. He processes the sound, understands Gus has something on his mind.

  “Listen,” Gus says. “I’m feeling bad about that thing I said before. I mean, we know you the only dad Todd’s really got. An’ he’s lucky to have you. We all are. I’m….sorry, boy.”

  Cody smiles, glances sideways at his father-in-law. “Oh hell, has that been gnawing at you all evening?”

  Gus takes a sip of mash, grunts and says, “Jus’ wanted to be clear about it.”

  “Thanks. But I never took it wrong. And to be clear about it, I’m the lucky one.”

  The soft glow of a nearby streetlight casts an eerie shadow across the street, the jagged sound of crickets fill the night air. Gus lowers the front two legs of his chair and picks up the Mason jar. Twisting off the gold lid, he tips a few swallows into his cup then holds the jar up, gesturing at Cody.

  “You sure?’ Gus says.

  Cody looks down at the tin cup between his hands, stares at it for a few seconds then holds it out. “Why not? But just a splash.”

  “Okay then.”

  Gus angles the glass jar and pours a mouthful. Cody adds the tonic water and takes a long draw. Going down, the alcohol stings his throat, warms his belly. It feels good, calming, a moment of peace.

  The mash starts to work on Cody and he listens to the night sounds. The crickets, the low voices of people in their houses, far away traffic, all of it becoming a rhythm of night.

  Cody’s chair creaks under his shifting weight, he scratches his chin and says, “You know, I used to think Lucas was the lucky one. I mean, since you didn’t shoot him and all. But now I’m not so sure. Tell me something.” Cody gestures with his cup. “Was that thing loaded when you stuck it in Lucas’s face back then?”

  Gus grunts and a smile creeps onto his face. “That was thirteen years ago. Damned if I remember.”

  “Damned if you don’t. I should’ve hauled your ass to jail for doing that.”

  “Yeah? What stopped you?”

  The call had come in late, just after midnight. Back then Cody was a street cop and the first officer on scene. It had been one of those crazy nights, one call after another, and no one was available to back him up. Cody was it, the only officer to respond.

  Just nineteen years-old, Jamie and her then-husband Lucas were renting a ramshackle, one bedroom house on West Tchoupitoulas. They met, dated for a short time, and Jamie had gotten pregnant the first time they’d had sex. But living in a dump raising an unexpected son wasn’t how Lucas Kelly had envisioned his life. So on that particular night he had attempted to run, and that’s when Lucas found himself facing the business end of Gus’s rifle.

  In the shadows of the hallway, a splash of light on her face, Cody had seen Jamie holding little Todd. She stayed back, almost out of sight as her father growled threats, vowing to see Lucas dead before his daughter raised her baby alone. Cody could see Jamie was afraid, could see her rigid body, frozen with uncertainty. And he saw something else in her pale blue eyes.

  Cody’s first approach had been to try to persuade Gus that he should leave, let the couple work out their problems by themselves. At that point, Cody found himself facing the business end of Gus’s rifle.

  Business end or not, Cody had also found himself caught up in Jamie’s gaze, by the look her eyes. Without knowing it herself, Jamie had taken him in as a lover draws close to their loved one. It was subtle, almost unnoticed; the connection was unassuming and silent. And it was like lightning.

  Cody remembers making a decision that would forever change his life. He had stepped between Lucas and Gus’s rifle and laid a hand on the barrel, pushing it downward. He had told Gus to let things be. Then he told Lucas to leave.

  “Right,” Cody says. “How could I arrest my future father-in-law?”

  “Why not? I was perfectly happy to point it your way. Twice, as I recall.”

  “Hmm…it wasn’t loaded then, was it?”

  “Damned if I remember,” Gus says, the foxlike grin sliding once more onto his face.

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  The day after he had stood between Gus and Lucas, Cody had returned, asking Jamie out on a date. It must have violated some kind of protocol. Most likely, Lucas wasn’t even out of the state and Jamie was still very much a married woman. Certainly the church, if not Mr. and Mrs. Gus Dubois, would have frowned on such a thing. It was probably against department regulations, too, but Cody didn’t care. He could not get Jamie out of his mind. He just had to see her again.

  Three months after their first date Cody asked Jamie to marry him. By then she was twenty, he was twenty-nine. Dating was one thing, marriage was quite another. Once more Gus spoke for his daughter with the Winchester. Jamie would be hurt only once as far as Gus Dubois was concerned, there would be no other takers.

  Later, Cody would learn Marion had argued with Gus about his decision. She liked Cody and could see his affection for Jamie. But being a devoted wife and Catholic parishioner, she accepted her husband’s decision.

  The day after Cody asked for Gus’s blessing, the day after he had chased Cody off, Gus stood on a street corner waiting for the light to change. For some reason he looked down, saw a scrap of paper, a lottery ticket. Gus picked it up.

  In his own, odd way, Gus took the seven and a half-million dollar, single winner jackpot to be a sign, a personal omen. Exactly what kind of a sign Gus never quite understood or bothered to explain, but the unexpected financial windfall had to mean something. Six months later Cody and Jamie were married.

  “Thanks for helping out with Jamie today,” Cody says. “I really appreciate it. Thanks for paying the doctor’s bill, too. I’ll cover you in the morning.”

  “Forget it. You’re not paying the goddamned bill.” Gus says, then he flinches, hoping Marion did not hear him swear. He lowers his voice. “It ain’t nothing. Now, what kinda trouble you in?”

  “I’m not sure, and I couldn’t tell you even if I was.”

  “What about Jamie? Why her?”

  Cody stares into his cup then finishes the drink in one, quick swallow. “She might’ve seen the man who killed someone.”

  “Well, either she did or she didn’t. Which is it?”

  “I don’t know. But they think she knows something and that’s all that matters to them.”

  “Who are ‘they
’?”

  Cody shakes his head. “I have no idea.”

  “Then what about you? What’re they after you for?”

  “I just don’t know,” Cody says, shaking his head. “Guilt by association, I guess.”

  Gus spills the last of the mash into his cup. He takes a swallow and says, “Want me to take her and little Todd to the swamp for a while? Uncle Ramsey got a shack out there. The ol’ coot still lives in it, some of my cousins, too. Ain’t no one find us out there.”

  Weird old Uncle Ramsey. Cody sighs at the thought.

  “No, I think they’ll be all right here.”

  Gus breathes in, breathes out, waits. “Uh-huh,” he says. “Long as you’re sure.”

  For an instant Cody experiences a memory that exists just beneath the surface, in a place where thoughts and ideas swirl like autumn leaves caught in the wind. For a moment, without really knowing it, Cody feels hot, fetid breath against his neck. He remembers the incredible pressure against his back, focused between his shoulder blades.

  In his mind, Cody hears the sound of a chain unwinding, it echoes through his memories. Then the thought is almost gone. He frowns, trying to recall something that is rattling around in his brain.

  “Right now,” Cody says. “I’m not sure of anything.”

  “Well, let me know. Uncle Ramsey be happy to see ‘em.”

  Cody nods and sets the tin cup down then excuses himself, leaving Gus alone with his empty Mason jar.

  Climbing the stairs to the second floor, Cody wonders how many times that jar will be filled before Gus turns in for the night.

  With his shirt and pants rolled together under one arm, Cody quietly latches the door to the guest bedroom. His body is still damp from a long shower, beads of moisture turning cold against his skin. Taking a step toward the bed, Cody stops, looks at Jamie.

  Lying on her side, outlined in the pale darkness, she has never looked more graceful or alluring. She is wearing only a tank top and blue panties, the heat of this second story bedroom making her push the sheet down, exposing her arresting curves.

  Cody lies down, pulls her in close, his body an analog. He gently glides his hand up her thigh, the touch of silky skin arousing him. Jamie makes a soft, stirring noise and turns to face him. Cody pulls her mouth close and kisses her.

  «»

  On the floor, a pair of boxers, blue jeans, a sweat-stained tee shirt, cotton panties and a gray tank top. On the nightstand is a pistol strapped into a leather holster. In bed are two naked bodies intertwined, satisfied and asleep. His arm wrapped around her back, Jamie lies across Cody, her face nestled just beneath his chin. The smell of lovemaking lingers.

  Out of a dead sleep Cody’s eyes flash open. At first, the idea is dim, unclear, but then it takes form.

  “I don’t have a ZZ Top Greatest Hits CD,” Cody says, to no one, to himself.

  “Hmm…” Jamie murmurs, still asleep.

  “Why was it in your purse?”

  “What?” Jamie says, beginning to wake. “Did you say something?”

  “Why did you have a pirated ZZ Top CD?”

  “Oh, honey,” Jamie says, her voice thick with sleep. “I found it, thought you’d like it.”

  Cody lifts his head, craning his neck, looks at Jamie. “What?” he says. “Where’d you get it?

  She stretches, yawns, and rubs her face lazily. “Does it matter? I found it at their apartment.”

  Cody turns over, pushes up so he is looking down at Jamie.

  “Whose apartment? Nick’s?”

  “What? Oh, yeah, yes I did. “Does it matter?”

  “Did you take it today?”

  “Uh-huh,” Jamie says. “Why, who cares?”

  “You took something from the crime scene?” Cody says. “Jamie, you can’t do that.”

  Now fully awake, a playful scowl comes across Jamie’s face. “Like you should talk, you told me to lie to that detective Hansen and I’m sure you lied about what happened when that guy shot at you.”

  “It’s not the same. I was protecting you. I----” He stops short, looks at Jamie, moonlight catching her beautiful face.

  Like a whisper, a new thought pushes into his mind.

  Who cares about the disc? She’s alive.

  Cody glances around, expecting to see someone else in the room.

  “What is it, honey?” Jamie says.

  “Um...” Cody slowly turns to look at her, forces a half-smile. “Sorry, I thought I heard something.”

  Leaning over, Cody kisses Jamie. He kisses her chin, her throat, kisses her breasts. His fingers drift across her stomach, drift lower. Jamie arches her back and lets out a quiet moan.

  “Wait,” Cody says, straightening up.

  “Oh, don’t stop.”

  “What made you pick it up?” Cody says. “The disc, I mean.”

  “Who knows?” She sighs. “Make love to me.”

  “I need to know, Jamie. Why did you pick it up?”

  Jamie sighs again, this time out of frustration.

  “I was just standing there,” she says. “Waiting for you and those other detectives. I went to pick up my purse and there was the CD, lying on top of a pile of other discs. Before I knew what I was doing I picked it up.” Jamie frowns. “Now that I think about it, I don’t know why I did it. Remembering that you liked ZZ was kind of an afterthought.”

  “Yeah,” Cody says, rolling out of bed, “I think I remember seeing that disc, too. I almost picked it up myself.”

  “Where are you going?” Jamie says, pouting, watching Cody pull on his boxers. “I need you again.”

  “That CD didn’t work.” Cody is sitting on the edge of the bed, putting on his jeans. “It wouldn’t play. I don’t think it’s a music CD at all.” As he speaks, a feeling of excitement, like electricity, goes through his body. “I’ll bet it has data on it.”

  “Why would Nick have a CD like that?” Jamie says.

  Cody hesitates, his jeans unbuttoned, he thinks about her question. Then he looks directly at Jamie and says, “Nick made it for me. He knew ZZ was my favorite band.”

  Now, Jamie feels the excitement. She sits upright, pulling the sheet over her chest.

  “Do you think he knew he was going to die?”

  “I don’t know,” Cody says, shaking his head. He stands, buttons his jeans. “I suspect it was more of an insurance policy. But I have no doubt he intended it for me. Of course, he had no way of knowing what would happen to you and Julia along the way.”

  Cody is moving toward the door. Reaching for the doorknob, he says, “I gotta look at that disc. Think it’s okay to use your dad’s computer?”

  “Wait for me,” Jamie says, climbing out of bed. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No, stay here.”

  Surprised by his sharp tone, Jamie stops, gives him a look. “Why not?”

  “The less you know the better.”

  “They’ve already tried to kill me once, maybe twice. We don’t know for sure who that guy in the car was after. Do you think they really care about what I know?”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Cody says. “Either way, I can’t take the chance. Besides, this is police business.”

  “You know what you can do with your police business,” Jamie says, reaching for her bathrobe. “I’ve got news for you, Detective Briggs. If someone’s going to kill me I’d at least like to know why.”

  Cody thinks about it.

  “Oh, what the hell. All right, c’mon.”

  Chapter 15

  “Got a minute, Captain?”

  Laroche looks up from the sports section, wisps of steam drifting out of his coffee cup. Dennis Schaefer, a brown haired man with a thick neck and barrel chest is standing in the doorway.

  “Sure Dennis, what’s up?”

  Schaefer glances back, looks out across the squad room. There are only a few detectives around this early in the morning. Then he looks at Laroche.

  “Well…” He pauses, shifting his weight. He gives a li
ttle shrug then says, “I’ve got something I think you should see.” He tips his head slightly to one side, indicating a direction. “Got a TV and VCR set up down in number three.”

  Laroche frowns. The lead-in is a little cryptic and the fact Schaefer is out of uniform means he is off duty. Laroche places his reading glasses on the desk and picks up his cup of coffee.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  «»

  Glen Harris glances at the Wall Street Journal which is folded neatly in half. His lemon tea and cream filled pastry are untouched. He swallows, trying to calm himself.

  The bell on the door signals another patron entering the shop and Harris flashes an anxious glance toward the newcomer. His heart rate spikes but the kid walks past Harris, paying no attention. Harris swallows again, the lump in his throat growing tighter.

  More customers enter and leave and Harris wonders if he’s missed the man or if he is in the wrong doughnut shop. Feeling out of place, he can feel moisture starting to collect under his arms. His hands will not keep still as he fusses with the newspaper, the pastry, his tea then the paper again. The bell sounds again and a young looking man, wearing jeans and a sport coat, strolls passed.

  “Can I help you?” The pretty, Hispanic woman behind the counter asks the new customer.

  The man eyes the selection menu for a moment. “Yeah. I’ll take a dozen glazed doughnuts and four large coffees.”

  As the woman collects the order, the man turns to Harris and says, “Looks like another scorcher today, uh?”

  Harris swallows hard, he knows this is it, it is happening. “Yeah…looks like.”

  “This is unbelievable, it’s never this hot in March,” the man says. He nods at the folded newspaper “Any good news on Wall Street?”