by Irving Munro
2014 - The Cold Case Investigation
The following morning, Jack Johnson was pouring himself his third cup of coffee. The clock on his desk read 9:30 but it felt much earlier than that. Earlier in the morning, he had popped a Zantac but his acid reflux was still bubbling. Being the good detective he was, he thought, “There’s something wrong with this picture,” and with coffee in hand, went back to the files spilling over on his desk.
“Got a minute?” said Tommy Ross as he stuck his head around the door of Jack’s office.
“Sure, Tommy. Take the weight off,” responded Jack.
Tommy tried to find a space on Jack’s desk to put his coffee cup down.
“Sorry, buddy, the cleaners come in tomorrow,” joked Jack. “What can I do for you, son?”
Jack Johnson was a local hero. Overworked and underpaid, he’d been with the Travis County Police Department almost thirty years. He had held every job other than the top spot and knew where all the skeletons were buried.
“Do you need any help, Jack?” asked Tommy with a hint of a smile forming on his lips.
“You auditioning for a stand-up comedian spot, Tommy?”
Tommy chuckled and got down to why he was there. “Did you ever meet my dad?”
“Not sure I ever did, why?”
“He worked as a cold case detective back in the day in the UK. He’s retired now, lives here in Austin and is looking for something to do with his time so he can feel productive. And judging by the state of your desk, it looks like you could do with another pair of hands! Is there any role where he might be able to help? He’s sharp as a tack, but he is my dad, so I’m biased,” said Tommy.
Jack stopped and thought for a second. “Hmm, not a bad idea. There would be no compensation as I don’t have any budget for that, but if he wanted to volunteer his time, I’m sure that his years of experience in police work could be really helpful to us.”
“A few years ago we had a woman volunteer to help us and we gave her a job on the front desk. So, there is a precedent here. Give me a couple of days to get the paperwork to you so your dad can apply for a volunteer officer role,” said Jack now fully bought into the idea of getting some additional help.
“Perfect!” responded Tommy and left Jack to his troubles, confident that soon, the Scottish cavalry would arrive and all would be well with the world.
Chapter 11 - You’re hired
2014 - The Cold Case Investigation
“You look fine, Willie!” yelled Elaine from the kitchen as Bill Ross went back to the bathroom for the fourth time to check that his tie was straight.
Jack Johnson had given Bill the necessary paperwork to apply for a role with the cold case unit. There were two types of jobs that were available: a reserve officer and a special reserve officer. Bill had read the qualification criteria for both and after the third reading still couldn’t understand the difference between the two, so he applied for both.
Today was the big day. Bill was up, out of bed, showered and shaved well before six. He was now back in the bedroom closet and rummaging through his clothes.
“What the heck are you doing Willie? Most people are still in bed and it sounds like your building a new set of shelves in there, like that’ll be the day,” yelled Elaine as she angrily drew the covers over herself and rolled over, trying to get a few more minutes of sleep.
It had been years since Bill had last been on an interview. He remembered the process he had gone through to apply for the Met job in London. It took four interviews, extensive background checks and three referees to testify to his moral character and standing in the community.
“I hope I don’t have to go through all of that again,” thought Bill as he paced back and forth in front of the bedroom mirror. His heart was pounding in his chest just like it had done the first time he had taken Elaine out on a date.
Bill had chosen the dark suit. It wasn’t a tough choice as he only had one suit that he kept for weddings and funerals. White shirt, dark tie, and his shoes shined to perfection. He had nipped down to Walgreens the previous night and managed to locate the only jar of Brylcreem they had in the store. Now his hair was perfect, parting on the left, combed back on the right. His mother called it a “cow’s lick” and he always made sure that this was the style he adopted for the more important occasions.
He grabbed the manila folder from the top of the dresser and headed to the garage, giving Elaine a peck on the cheek on the way. She returned that moment of intimacy with a hug as she had always done before Bill went off to get the baddies.
An hour later, Bill arrived at the Hudson’s Bend office, thirty-five minutes before the time for his interview. Planning was always important, as there could always be an accident or incident that would have caused him to be late. While Bill waited in his car, he nervously checked his e-mail on his iPhone to make sure that Jack Johnson had not rescheduled the time for the meeting. After confirming the meeting was still on, he surfed the net to pass the time, checking the British football scores via the BBC Sports app. Milton Keynes Dons had beaten Manchester United 4-0 in the League Cup.
“Shit!” he mumbled, “that’s a bad omen.” The last time Manchester United had been beaten like that, Harold McMillan had been British prime minister.
“9:59. OK, time to get this done,” said Bill as he pushed open the door of his BMW, checked four times that it was locked and then headed across the parking lot to the police office. He opened that glass doors leading to the reception area. He looked around and saw the African American lady behind the desk.
“Can I help you, sir?” asked the receptionist, staring up at the apparition in front of her. “You did see the sign on the door—No Solicitation!” she exclaimed, taking charge in her normal efficient manner.
“No, ma’am, I am not here to sell anything. I have an appointment with Detective Jack Johnson at 10:00 a.m.,” said Bill, checking his watch to see that it was indeed 10:00 a.m. on the dot.
“Jack, some guy’s here to see you!” yelled the receptionist, utilizing the most effective method of communication available to her. “Take a seat, Mr.?”
“Oh, my apologies, ma’am. I didn’t give you my card. William Ross is the name,” said Bill, sitting down awkwardly on the one available chair. There was a copy of Guns & Ammo on the table, so Bill picked it up and stared blankly at the pages.
“Have him come back to my office, will you, Celia!” shouted Jack from down the hall.
“Go through that door, down the hall, second door on your left. That’s Jack’s office,” said Celia with a smirk.
The door of Jack Johnson’s office was open. He had just lifted his white Styrofoam cup to his lips and was blowing on the scalding hot coffee when Bill appeared at his door.
“Holy crap!” yelled Jack. The coffee splatted everywhere. Jack jumped up, howled and threw the now empty cup in the general direction of what seemed to be a trash can, but it may have been what was referred to as file 13.
“You caught me a little by surprise there, buddy!” exclaimed Jack as he used a sheet of paper towel to mop up his mess. “You know, Sanderson’s Funeral Home is two blocks down the street! You’re not here for a job driving a hearse, Bill!”
“Sorry, Mr. Johnson, I was not sure how formal the interview process might be,” said Bill, feeling a little embarrassed. “I have brought my CV for your review” said Bill trying to recover the situation as best he could.
“CV!” exclaimed Jack, “I know all about you from Tommy and it sounds like you are the right guy for the job. You’re hired!”
Bill Ross was both totally confused and elated. He was hired! He was going to be back doing what he loved. It was like being picked to play for the first team and he couldn’t wait to get on the field.
“I need to break out the twenty-one-year old when I get home tonight!” Bill thought with resolve. “Yep, it’s a twenty-one-year-old kind of day!”
“Can’t give you an office, Bill, but you can sit yourself down in
the break room. No files leave this office without my approval, clear?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Johnson!”
“Less of the mister. You can call me Detective Johnson or Jack. Most times, its just Jack, but if there are other people around, it’s Detective Johnson. There may be times when you want to call me asshole, but you do that when I’m not in earshot and at your own risk,” said Jack with a smirk. “Celia, can you get Bill a cup of coffee and bring it to my office, please? We have work to do.”
The piles of files on the desk had recovered sufficiently from the dousing with coffee. Jack took them one by one and began to explain to Bill the organization of a cold case file and the content of each section.
“Bill, these are all major crimes. Serious assaults, shootings, rapes, child molestation and, of course, murders. I suggested that you take a look at the murders first. There are twenty-six of them going back fifteen years. These are four murder files I pulled out last night and are ready for you to take a look at as a first step.”
“There’s more where this came from in the file room at the rear of the building. All of these are summary files that we keep here in this office. The main files are at the 34th Street location in downtown Austin. I have talked with the Desk Sargent at 34th street and he will give you a tour of the main file room down there whenever you ready.”
Bill shuffled the pages and said, “Nice to see you still do things the old fashioned way. I was afraid I’d have to learn a bunch of computer programs.”
Jack laughed and said, “Wait five years. There is an ongoing program of converting these files to electronic format. All we care about is that you’re thorough in your research to ensure that all available information on a specific cold case has been reviewed and that you didn’t jump to any early conclusions.”
“I don’t jump to early conclusions!” said Bill with a serious tone that made Jack feel like he was being put back in his place for making such a foolish statement.
`“Don’t be a smartass Bill! No one like a smartass!” snarled Jack.
Jack left and Bill to got to work.
Bill decided that the best approach was to study the contents of each file in reverse order, oldest first. He would do a cursory review of each and see if anything jumped out alerting him to engage in a further, more detailed review.
He took the four files from Jack’s desk and settled down in the break room. Throughout the day, other officers would come and go and they would extend a hand and introduce themselves. Bill was sure that he could hear them snigger as they left the room. He also caught sight of a couple of admin staff sticking their heads around the corner and then disappearing, giggling as they went. He was on display and no one could remember ever seeing anything like it. He was the talk of the sheriff’s office. Bill never felt prouder.
~
The following morning, Bill arrived in the office bright and early. “Morning, Celia!”
Celia almost choked on her blueberry muffin as she stared at Special Reserve Officer Bill Ross. Black snakeskin cowboy boots, blue jeans, belt, buckle (not too big), and western shirt. Bill Ross had metamorphosed into a slightly older version of Luke Duke, from the “Dukes of Hazard.” Overcome, Celia felt her face blush and ran off to the bathroom.
Bill settled in the break room and was once again the center of attention, but for different reasons this time. The giggling from the admin girls took on a different form that made Bill feel twenty years younger.
After reviewing the first few files, nothing jumped out at him as out of the ordinary. They were a mosaic of life’s garbage, especially the sexual assaults on children. Over the years and through all he had seen, child molestations affected him the most and made the bile rise up in his gut. Now, up to 2005, Bill walked back to the file room and returned with three files from that year.
When he opened up the first 2005 file, the name on the folder jumped out and hit him square in the face: “Deputy Tommy Ross.” Almost ten years ago, Tommy was involved as part of the investigating team on a murder in Riverside. He was a young officer, just out of training and had found himself in the middle of a murder investigation.
“Wow, I need to take a closer look at this one,” said Bill.
Chapter 12 - Pavel Orlov
2005 - A Great Adventure
When Galina first met Pavel Orlov in high school, she didn’t like him. She thought he was always trying to be the center of attention.
“Do you know that my family name means son of Oryol and that Oryol means eagle?” he would boast to those who would listen.
As the years went by she became attracted to him. His eyes were deep ocean pools of blue she could dive into and get lost in. He was dark haired, almost black in contrast to her long blond locks. They made a handsome couple and began to spend more time together after school. Every morning, Pavel would be waiting for her at the end of the street to walk with her to school and every evening he would walk her home again.
For Pavel, Galina was the love of his life. He would lie in bed at night and plan out their future together. They both loved American history and he imagined them travelling west, as the original settlers had done and finding a place by a river with tall pines and rolling hills where they could settle down and build a home together.
The one thing Pavel wasn’t was an athlete but the jocks left him alone, especially after an ugly incident after school one day. A linebacker from the football team tried to demonstrate how tough he was and picked a fight with Pavel in the schoolyard. Pavel tried his best to talk his way out of it but the jock would have none of it and threw the first punch. Galina saw it all happen from a distance. As if it were in slow motion, Pavel sidestepped the punch, came around and hit the jock in the kidneys with a right hook. When the guy bent over gasping for air, Pavel hit him square on the chin and he went down like a sack of potatoes.
“Son of eagle!” Pavel whispered in the jock’s ear as he walked away.
As it happened, an eagle had very little to do with it. Pavel’s father had been a heavyweight-boxing champion in the Ukraine before coming to the U.S. He had taught Pavel how to look after himself from the time he was old enough to hold up a pair of boxing gloves.
Their joint love of U.S. history brought Galina and Pavel together. They eagerly read about the early explorers who traveled west. How they documented their journey so that those who followed after them could learn from their experiences. These were the real pioneers.
The exploits of Lewis and Clark held particular intrigue for them. In May 1804, Lewis and Clark had set out on their expedition heading west across the country, taking a northern route and making the Pacific Ocean by November of 1805.
Galina would lean against Pavel and sigh. “How exciting. They forged a trail not knowing what risks laid ahead. They just did it. Swallowed hard and did it.”
Pavel kissed her and held her close, “I love you Galina.”
She leaned into him and said, “And I love you Pavel. The world is out there for us to explore together and maybe someday we’ll be like those early settlers. Swallow hard and just do it.”
In May of 2005, Galina and Pavel were finally ready to do exactly that.
~
In his final year of high school, Pavel had saved enough to buy a motorcycle, a 2003 Triumph Bonneville T100. His dad had known an old British guy in Baltimore who knew a lot about bikes as he called them and he reckoned that the Triumph was the best there ever was (it was a British bike of course, so the old guy was a little biased).
Pavel paid cash for the bike and as he drove it back home to Pikesville, he could feel the power of the 790cc engine course through his body like an electrical charge. As each mile went by it was like the wind was blowing away the boy and a man was emerging. He was on fire. “This is my time!” he yelled. He was going to do something big. He was going to be someone.
As a kid, Pavel had heard his father play the music of country singer Tim O’Brien and the words of one of his songs had struck a chord. T
he song was called “Turn the Page Again” and the words he remembered rang in his ears as the Bonneville ate up the miles between Baltimore and Pikesville.
I’m soaring like an eagle.
I’ll find a place to land.
I’ll let the west wind take me.
See what it has planned.
~
It was 6:30 am when Pavel walked into the empty living room. Galina was due to arrive in about an hour and Pavel need to write his father a note. His father was a truck driver and was off on one of his overnights. Pavel’s mother had died when he was young and his father had raised him on his own. His father never remarried and worked hard to give Pavel the best and teach him all he could. He was an uneducated man, but a good man.
Pavel walked to his father’s den, pulled out a piece of paper and began writing.
“I love you Tato. I know that you will be angry and disappointed when you read this. I have to make my own way in the world, stand on my own two feet. You have been a good father and you have taught me well. Mama, I know, is looking down from heaven with a smile on her face for the job you have done raising me. Do pobachennya Tato.”
The tears hit the paper as he wrote the words. He left the note on his father’s chair by the fireplace.
Galina arrived at 7:30 in the morning as they had agreed. They kissed and hugged each other for what seemed like an eternity before going upstairs to Pavel’s room. He had everything laid out on the bed: his clothes, two sets of brand new leathers and his and her motorcycle helmets. He had bought them three weeks earlier and hid them in the loft so that his father wouldn’t find them. They opened their packs, shook their money out on the bed and counted it up. Together they had $2,132 in cash.
They went over the plan. They would ride west to St. Louis and pick up the beginnings of Route 66. Pavel couldn’t resist and started doing his best impersonation of Elvis singing about the famous highway. Galina sat on the edge of the bed and laughed hysterically.
It would be two days to St. Louis, stopping overnight at Columbus Ohio, which was roughly halfway. After St. Louis, they would cruise through Tulsa, Albuquerque and past the Grand Canyon on route to Las Vegas. There they would get married in Vegas and then on to California where they planned to work in restaurants and bars, save all they could and then find a permanent place to live. After that, they would see what opportunities life would reveal.
