Decay

by Zach T. Stockwell

  Marco was lounged back, reclined in the chair that sat opposite Gene’s desk.

  Gene was still looking at his computer screen with his reading glasses on, clicking away.

  “Yeah, I do actually. I bought my daughter a ticket to fly in. She’s gonna come visit me for a few days,” Gene said, not taking any focus from the computer monitor. Then he continued, “She doesn’t have anything booked for the next several days so she gets to just kind of do what she wants. I also got us some tickets to the Fort Worth Zoo, so we’ll go do that tomorrow.” Gene continued staring intently at his screen, clicking every once in a while.

  “Oh, that’s good! I didn’t know she was comin’ down this week.”

  There was a break in the conversation, and the atmosphere drew dense. Clicking was the only sound to disrupt the silence, until Marco sparked more conversation.

  “Y’know, I’ve never even been to the Fort Worth Zoo. I hear great things, but never made the time.”

  Gene quit clicking and finally focused his attention on something other than that monitor.

  “You’re jokin’ right? You live in Dallas and never been to the Fort Worth Zoo? Aw, kid. C’mon.” Gene laughed and then looked back at his computer, then back to Marco again. “Why don’t you come with us? I’ll get you a ticket and the three of us will go together. You can meet my famous daughter.”

  Marco was caught off guard by the offer, but then realized that if he didn’t go with them, then his Sunday would consist of eating cereal in his underwear in front of his TV at the new apartment.

  “Well, gee, I don’t know. I don’t want to intrude. But if it’s nothin’ to you, then that’ll be nice.”

  Gene looked at Marco with the ever-approving twinkle in his old eyes and said, “More the merrier. I think she’ll like you. Plus, you’re Italian and that’s really cool to a twenty-one-year-old girl.”

  Gene winked at Marco, and he thought that was a little weird, but it made him smile anyway. Marco couldn’t help but notice how beautiful Gene’s daughter was, and being in her company probably wouldn’t be bad, either.

  Marco began to stand up and walk out of Gene’s office and back toward his own when Gene stopped him.

  “Hey, we’re gonna go back by Mr. Morris’s place again here in a minute. We’re bound to catch him at home eventually.” Marco nodded his head and went back into his office to grab his coat.

  Mr. Morris was the man that the facial recognition software identified in that security camera footage of the bar. He was the last person anyone had seen with Zoey, and at this moment was their primary suspect. They had been trying for days to find him, but he was never home on any of their attempts to talk to him. To make matters worse, he had recently just quit his job, so they were unable to track him that way.

  His full name was Boston T. Morris, and both Gene and Marco thought that the name Boston was unusual for a person. But they had been to his apartment three times and his previous place of employment - a bank, where he worked in collections. All of Boston’s ex-coworkers had attested to how much he had hated calling people to tell them they were late on a payment, and that one day, he just up and quit. They had not seen him since and they had not heard anything from him about getting a new job. To them, Boston had just disappeared off the face of the planet.

  Marco thought that the best course of action would be to obtain a warrant for a search of his apartment, but Gene made the executive decision that they were going to try to talk to him face to face one more time before going to that measure. This day, Saturday, was that last effort of civility before having to enter by force.

  ---

  It was a short drive from the station, and it didn’t allow for much small talk. Just a short five-minute trip, and the two had arrived. The building had its own dedicated parking lot, because it wasn’t a large high-rise or anything big in the center of downtown. Instead, it was just a simple three-story apartment building on a corner just on the edge of downtown. They walked in together to the lobby, which was hardly a lobby. It was more of just a large entryway with signs that directed them to the ground floor apartments, and the elevator. They took the elevator, rather than the stairs, up to the second floor and found apartment 202, which was Boston Morris’s.

  Gene, as usual, took the lead and knocked on the door. There was nothing but silence from inside, so after waiting for over a minute, Gene knocked once again. This time, he did so with more aggression.

  Then, finally, after several days of persistence and multiple visits, the door opened to reveal the same handsome man that was seen leaving the bar with Zoey. His hair was messy in the back and bunched up on top as if he had just gotten out of bed at two p.m. One eye was partially squinted in an attempt to block the light as he focused in on Gene’s face. He was only holding the door partially open, but still enough to reveal that he was wearing a white tank top and tight boxer-briefs.

  “What can I do for you guys?” His voice was gravelly, which led Gene to believe he really had just woken up, unless his voice was always that raspy and deep.

  “Yeah. Mr. Morris, right?” Gene wanted to clarify he had the right apartment, although he recognized him from the security tape.

  “That’s me. What’s up?” He rubbed his eyes again and refocused in on Gene, then darted a look to Marco, then back to Gene again.

  “My name is Gene Maxwell, and this is my colleague, Marco Moretti. We are with the Homicide division of the Dallas Police Department, and we were wondering if you had a moment to answer a few questions for us.”

  “Uh, what’s this about?” Marco could tell that if he wasn’t awake before, then he certainly was now. He was standing more upright and the sleepy squint disappeared. He was fully alert.

  “Well, Mr. Morris. A woman has been missing for about two weeks now. And we’re wondering if you can shed some light on her whereabouts.” Gene wanted to reveal as little about the investigation until he was inside and sitting in the apartment.

  “Uh, okay, sure.” As he opened the door and motioned for the detectives to enter, he continued. “Who is missing? I haven’t really talked to many people since I quit my job so I don’t know how much help I’m gonna be.”

  Gene waited to be seated before answering his question, and they were directed to a living room sofa. After taking their seats, Gene cleared his throat and finally responded.

  “Mr. Morris, where were you the night of December thirty-first? New Year’s Eve.” Gene tried his hardest not to sound prying or suspicious, but that question was impossible to phrase without sounding threatening.

  “Uh, I went out to a bar that night. I didn’t stay long, then I came back home before midnight. Why?”

  “And which bar did you go to, sir?” Marco had his pen and notepad in hand while Gene did his questioning, per the usual.

  “The Cavern, across town. It’s this cool little place I go to pretty often. It’s called The Cavern because of the way they’ve done the lighting. It’s all low-light and dim, and the only light comes from sconces on the wall. It kinda reminds you of a cave.”

  Boston was talking out of nerves. He knew the reasoning behind the name of the bar was completely irrelevant information, but his nervousness was making it come out of him.

  “Right. Well, Mr. Boston, we went to The Cavern a few days ago and obtained some security camera footage, as it pertained to our investigation, and the footage revealed that you were leaving the bar that night with our missing woman. So as of right now, you’re the last person she was seen with.” As Gene explained the situation, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled the printed photograph of Zoey, and held it up closely to him. “Do you remember leaving with this woman that night?”

  “Yes, I do, actually.”

  This was a surprise. Walking into this interview, they had both expected him to nervously lie his way out of it, until they were forced to call and make an arrest. They both thought that this would be the end of the line - that they had caught their man. They figured
if there was any lying done in this preemptive interview, then that would be cause to take him to the station and book him. Since they had possession of the videotape, they figured they would get some sort of confession possibly, or a quick trial. But Mr. Morris’s upfront honesty changed that.

  After a moment to process something so unforeseen, Gene asked, “You do? Erm-” and then cleared his throat. “Where did you and Miss Edmund go together, after leaving the bar?”

  “Well, we didn’t go anywhere. I just walked her outside to her husband, and they left together. That’s it, I swear.”

  Marco set his pen down and tuned in carefully. Gene was so dumbfounded, he slacked his jaw and rubbed the unshaven, gray scruff of his chin. He pondered it for a moment, realizing that this new kink only furthered the complexity of this case. There were so many questions to ask, and so few resources for obtaining answers.

  “Okay. Mr. Morris-” Gene cut his own speech off, trying to find the proper words. “Can you explain to me why you went into the bar to find this woman and walk her out to her husband? That seems strange, does it not?”

  Boston rubbed his neck and thought about that for a moment. “Well, yeah, I guess it does seem a little weird saying it like that, but the guy explained it to me. He said that he was her husband, and they got in a big fight, and he was afraid she was going to cheat on him.”

  As Boston spoke, Marco remembered his purpose, and in the confusion, he had stopped taking notes altogether. He picked up his pen and scribbled intently.

  Boston continued, “So he caught me outside walking into the bar, and gave me a hundred bucks to hit on her and try to convince her to leave with me. I guess he wanted to see if she was really going to try and cheat on him. He said if she agreed to leave with me, then just to walk her out to him. So I did.”

  “Mr. Morris, can you describe her husband to us? Did you get a good look at his face?”

  “Well yeah, kinda. It was a little dark outside the bar, and he was wearing a hood. But he wore glasses - not sunglasses, just regular glasses - and had kind of a super small nose. Like his nose never grew from when he was a baby. And had a patchy beard. Not super tall - probably just under six feet. Kind of a fat guy too, but not super fat. I don’t know that’s about it.”

  “Is there anything you can give me specific? Any small details, like maybe an eye color, or color of his hair? Any tattoos or markings, or anything unique about him other than his ‘super small’ nose?”

  “Oh, yeah. I mean, his eyes were brown, I think, and his beard was black. It was patchy. Like he had a goatee and long sideburns, but there was a big gap between them. I didn’t see tattoos, or scars, or anything like that. Oh, and his glasses made his eyes bulge out. Dude must be blind or something to have lenses that have to magnify that much.” There wasn’t so much as a hesitation or hiccup in his voice. No sweat, no trembling, no twitching, no stuttering. There wasn’t a single lie told in that story, and Gene noticed. Unless Mr. Morris was an incredible liar, he was telling the truth.

  “Did anything else happen after that?”

  “Nope. I swear. I just came home. I figured making a quick hundred bucks would be good luck and I didn’t wanna blow it and get hammered. Plus, my friends bailed so I was kinda bored anyway.” Boston had appeared to be done speaking, but then continued his final thought. “Oh yeah, I just shook his hand and walked away, and she got in the car with him. She didn’t fight or scream, or seem scared at all, so I didn’t think anything of it. She was pretty blasted, though. She could hardly walk.”

  “Okay. What about the car? I’m guessing you didn’t note the license plate, but could you tell me what it looked like?”

  “Honestly, I didn’t pay much attention. It was a black four door car. That’s about it.”

  “Okay. Well thanks for your honesty, Mr. Morris. Do you mind if I get your phone number, in case I need anything else in the future?” As if on cue, all three men in the room stood up in unison, and made their collective way towards the door.

  “Oh, yeah. One sec. I gotta get pen and paper and I’ll write it down.” Boston didn’t seem nervous anymore. He was more cool and reserved. His motions weren’t fast and choppy as they were when he was first introduced to the detectives, and his words weren’t spat out as if they were sinful anymore, either. The trickle of sweat no longer marked its territory on his forehead, and his cheeks returned to the normal shade of tan that they naturally were.

  Boston disappeared from the entryway and went into another room, which Marco assumed was his bedroom. He returned mere seconds later with a piece of ripped out notebook paper, with shreds still dangling off hopelessly from where it was torn.

  He handed it over to Gene, who then handed it over to Marco. Marco studied it for a moment before folding it up and putting it into his bag along with his notepad. It had his first, middle, and last name, plus his address, telephone, and E-mail. Boston was nothing if not thorough, providing them with more than enough information for reaching him.

  Gene and Marco took turns shaking his hand, and thanked him once more before leaving together. The door was shut respectfully behind them.

  The door hardly had ample time to click before Gene started in with the next step.

  “Okay, Marco. Call the captain and tell him we need the city’s footage from every security camera outside in the area around the bar. We gotta get a face, or license plate, or something. We’re running on fumes here.”

  Gene exploded into full hustle mode. It wasn’t prompted, and there didn’t seem to be a need for more of a rush now than before, but Marco kept up and played along. It wasn’t often he got to see a sixty-four-year-old man with this much energy.

  Marco did as directed. He called the Captain, and gave the address of the bar. He asked that he and Gene have access to the footage of all the city’s security cameras in that area. Captain acted as if this was no big deal at all, and promised to have access by the time they got back to the station.

  Then, all of the sudden again, Marco felt the same rush. It was as if it just hit him. This could be it; this could be the end. After hearing the rush in Captain’s voice, and seeing Gene hustle ahead of him, he only then realized that this security footage could reveal the identity of the real perpetrator. A face or a license plate is all they needed to be one giant leap closer to finding their guy. The real guy this time.

  The elevator went slower than Gene liked, but finally after the doors opened on the ground floor, Gene jogged out of the doors and back to his own car. All the while, Marco thought how impressive it was that he could even still jog. If the situation were a little less serious, perhaps he would even have a laugh. But this wasn’t the time or the place.

  ---

  It was 2:42 p.m. when Marco Moretti and Gene Maxwell walked through the doors of the police station. They were greeted excitedly in the front by Captain Cole, and taken to the computer room, where they had spent plenty of time a few nights prior.

  “Hey, Computer Guy. You have it all ready?” Captain Cole asked, smiling, hopeful.

  The Computer Guy, Gus, had grown used to being called Computer Guy, but it never really meant that he liked it. Just used to it. At least it was to the point that he stopped correcting people with his real name, and instead accepted the bitter reality that everyone would always call him The Computer Guy.

  “Yeah. Right here.” He spun his chair around to face the dual monitors, and began clicking on several things seemingly at once, until there were two different feeds playing simultaneously. “Okay, see here. And here. There are two cameras just outside the bar, luckily for us,” The Computer Guy said, while pointing to spots on both screens.

  The right monitor displayed a shot of the corner that the bar was on. It was pointing directly at the front of the bar, but was positioned in such a way that it looked as if it was standing in the street, looking at the bar from a side angle. And the camera that was being displayed on the left monitor was on the opposite side of the bar, and a bit further
down the street, giving all four of the viewers two angles to see from.

  Gus continued to point things out while both feeds were still paused, but he didn’t even know what to look for yet. Marco saw what he needed to see.

  In clear view, there was a black sedan parallel parked out front, just a few feet from the front of the bar. There was a man in a coat with his head down standing directly behind it, though, and it obstructed the camera’s view of the license plate. This man couldn’t have been the Guy, though, because he was much too thin, and much too tall.

  Once Gus quit pointing things out, Marco took the lead. With the feed still paused, Marco set the scene for the Captain and The Computer Guy.

  He stepped forward to get a closer view, and did some pointing of his own.

  “Okay, look here. This black sedan parked out front is probably our guy’s car.” Marco then went on to fill them in on how the interview with Boston went. He told them every detail, just as it was told to him, sparing nothing. “Okay, play both feeds if you can.”

  Gus did as instructed, and both tapes began rolling. The footage wasn’t as high quality as the footage from inside the bar, but it’s what the city was willing to pay for. There was color to the picture, but hardly - it wasn’t exactly vibrant. The view wasn’t blurry either, and it was relatively close-up, but it would be very difficult to get a clear shot of anyone’s face from the two angles they had to choose from.

  The footage rolled and was uneventful for a while. It was timestamped just a couple of minutes before Boston entered the bar, so that they could see him walk up and be approached by the suspect.

  The man leaning against the rear of the car fiddled with his thumbs and kicked his feet around in boredom, and people walked up and down the street. The street itself was busier than normal, being that it was downtown Dallas on New Year’s Eve, but it wasn’t so crowded that it would be hard to identify what was happening.

  “There. Look.” Marco pointed to the right monitor first, because that’s when he first came onto screen. “That’s Mr. Morris there.” He was walking with his hands in his pockets, and at first was only visible on the monitor to the right because of where he was walking from, but then he walked into frame on the left monitor. This provided a much clearer and closer shot, although it was just his back.