by Mark Tufo
“Looks like the complainant was right,” Eckerson said.
*****
Miller showed up at the U-Store It locker early and parked his Lincoln Navigator to wait for Stan. He stepped out of the truck and nervously paced. He couldn’t shake the eerie sick feeling in the pit of his stomach since the magic word appeared on his shower mirror. He tried to convince himself that Maria was playing tricks on him somehow. Surely there is some way to fake such things. Maybe there are instructions on the internet that he could look up once his nerves calmed.
He looked down the long aisle of storage lockers and spotted the one that he shared with Stan and glanced at his watch. He still had time so he walked to the door of the unit and looked at the double locks on it. Smiling to himself, he pulled his key out and removed his padlock. He slipped it into the pocket of his jacket and dropped the key into his pants pocket.
Headlights appeared in the storage area and he heard the unmistakable sound of Stan’s Ferrari as he drove up the driveway and pulled the sleek silver Italian sport car up to the locker. He knew that he was still trying to impress him, even though he had lost the bet. But Miller wasn’t impressed with expensive cars or pretty women with fake tits. He preferred things that truly stirred his emotions. And he was about to receive winnings that stirred his emotions like nothing else ever could.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show,” he said as Stan struggled to get out of the low slung car.
“Bullshit. You knew I’d show up. A bet’s a bet.” He fished in his pocket for his key. “I’ll get you next time.”
“You think there will be a next time?”
Stan smiled at him. “There’s always a next time with you, Jerrod. You can’t help yourself. You always feel like you have to one up somebody else and what better way than these stupid bets of yours.” He opened the lock and gestured for him to open the door.
Miller stood to the side and lifted the roll-up door. The overhead light flickered on as soon as the door was all the way up. At the far back under a light sheet sat an acrylic container. The two men walked back and lifted the sheet. Miller smiled as he laid eyes on the two artifacts that he hadn’t seen in two years.
“Now that is a sight for sore eyes,” he whispered.
“Collect your winnings and get gone.” Stan turned to go.
“Now hold on just a moment.” Miller lifted the acrylic cover.
“What?” Stan asked, hands on hips.
“I need to make sure they’re real.”
“What?” Stan was unsure that he heard him correctly.
“You heard me. I need to make sure you didn’t sneak in here sometime in the last two years and replace the originals with reproductions just to screw with me,” Miller said, sounding quite serious.
“Why you no count, good for nothing—”
“I’m just saying, Stan. Trust, but verify. Isn’t that what you always say?” He smiled at the other man.
Stan glared at Jerrod as he pulled the badge out from the case and examined it. He turned it over and examined the back, then checked the pin and ran a thumb along the edges. He ran his thumbnail along one side and Stan finally stomped his foot. “Will you knock that shit off! You know damn good and well that they’re real.”
Miller smiled at him. “Good night, Stan. Sweet dreams.”
“Fuck you very much, Jerrod.”
“You know—” Miller called after him.
“What now?” Stan asked, clearly exasperated.
“In all seriousness, I think these pieces will complete my collection.”
“Well, good for you.” Stan started to leave. He caught himself in mid-stride. “Wait. You mean, like, you’re going to quit collecting?”
Miller nodded. “Yes, sir. With these two fine additions of Wild West memorabilia, I will have attained over twelve hundred pieces.”
Stan’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Most definitely. In fact, these two make it twelve hundred and sixty-four, to be precise.”
“Jesus, Miller. You know to the piece what you have?”
“To the piece,” Jerrod said.
Stan remained still, the shock holding him. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Congratulations?”
“Okay then, congratulations. I think?” Ingram was obviously confused. “But, what about the games? What will we do, Jerrod?”
“Bah, we’ll find some other petty thing to fight and bicker over, my friend. We always do.”
Stan simply nodded. “Yes, I suppose we will.” His face turned sad as he realized that the fun had been completely sucked out of his favorite hobby. “Well then, good luck with…your collection.”
“Thank you.” Miller lifted the Henry rifle up out of the case and exited the storage facility, leaving Stan standing alone to contemplate the meaning of his newfound freedom.
*****
“502, County,” Brenda’s voice came across the radio a bit sharper than usual.
Justin had been 10-46, assisting a motorist on the side of the road. A young mother with a newborn had a flat tire and he got her back on the road. Normally he would have simply given her husband or other family member a call, but her husband was serving overseas with a Marine detachment and she was returning home to visit her parents. He had a huge soft spot for military families and felt honored to be able to assist one in their time of need.
He picked up the mic from the radio and was just radioing back when Brenda called him again, “502, County. 10-35.” Justin had to think through his ‘ten’ codes a moment. That wasn’t one they used often. 10-35…major crime alert?
“Go ahead, County.”
“502, 10-16 at…” she continued. Justin listened but was confused. A 10-16 was a domestic disturbance. How did that qualify as a major crime alert?
“County 10-21 me,” he said, coding her to call him on his cell phone.
He waited until his phone chirped. As he flipped it open, Brenda was already talking.
“Justin, you are NOT going to believe the shit that I’m getting over the 911 calls. You need to get your ass out there now.”
He dropped the lever into drive and flipped on the lights. “What the hell, Brenda? What’s going on? How is a domestic a major crime?”
“When a domestic turns into a dead body, it’s a major crime.”
“Fucking great,” he muttered. “Okay, look, dispatch Jeff out here and—”
“He’s on another call. You don’t even want to know what him and that new kid found out on that. I swear to God, it’s like Dawn of the Dead tonight.”
“What?” Justin’s confusion level just spiked.
“Never mind, Justin. I think Denise is free. I’ll send her that way.”
“Okay, that’s fine. Just tell her to make it quick.”
“On it.” She hung up and almost instantly the radio sparked. “508, County, 10-25 to same location, copy?”
Justin ignored the radio chatter as he tried to sort what all Brenda was telling him. Domestic violence that escalates to murder? Okay, it’s happened before, but he couldn’t understand her getting so wound up over it. And the Dawn of the Dead comment? He made a mental note to call Eckerson once he got the scene under control and find out what the hell was put in the water today.
As he rolled up on the address, his headlights fell on something he had never seen before, and that was something odd in itself. An upper-middle-class neighborhood filled with newer cars and nice people of all walks of life, freshly mowed yards, nice fences, ornate gazebos, Tudor-style two-story homes, most on multiple acre lots with lots of elbow room to raise kids, quiet cul-de-sacs and a bloody body hanging from an oak tree in the front yard like a giant piñata.
He parked his cruiser and stepped out, noticing that the neighbors, while hovering in their housecoats or staring out of their windows, all stayed back and out of the way.
He popped the trunk of his patrol car and pulled out his crime scene kit and began taping
off the area. He made as large an area as he could since he didn’t know where the primary was. He blocked off the driveways, sealing his own car in, blocked off the property lines along the fences and ran the tape up to the sides of the house. He had just finished securing it when Deputy Burress arrived.
Denise stood near the body and observed it with her flashlight. “Damndest thing I’ve ever seen,” she commented.
“Yeah, me too,” Justin noted. “I just secured the scene and need someone to start collecting whatever evidence is out here. You want to start talking to the neighbors while their memories are fresh and I’ll see who’s home?”
“Will do.” She pulled her mini-notepad from her uniform shirt pocket and started with the neighbors standing closest.
Justin went to the house and tried the door. It was locked. He rang the bell but nobody answered. He knocked, but again, nothing. Going around the back, he saw that the TV was on, but nobody was in the living room. He tried the sliding door but it was locked as well. Checking the perimeter of the house, he saw the window open on the second floor and could hear whimpering and soft sobbing noises emanating from above him.
“Whoever’s up there, I need you to come outside, now.”
The crying continued, and from what Justin could hear, whoever it was acted as though he had never spoke. He listened a bit more and thought it was either a child or young girl.
Denise approached him. “Neighbors didn’t see anything, but they heard screams before we arrived. Said it sounded like a woman. Tom and Marla Davidson live here with their daughter Alethea.”
“There’s someone up there.” Justin pointed to the open window with his flashlight. “Doors are locked and they aren’t responding. Could be in shock.”
Denise listened to the crying a moment, “Sounds female. Do you want me to speak to them?”
“Let me see if I can get you inside.”
Justin went to the front door and was about to kick it in when Denise held him back. She ran her hand along the top of the door jamb then checked under the mat. She pulled up a key and winked at him.
“Show off,” he muttered.
“You’re still a great big macho man in my eyes,” she quipped as she patted his rear.
“Careful there, you’ll start rumors.”
“Yeah, that guy hanging in the tree might tell somebody.”
He unlocked the door and slowly pushed it in. “Sheriff’s department, we’re coming in. You need to remain calm and keep your hands where we can see them!” he stated loudly and in a steady voice.
Both deputies had their weapons drawn and cleared the downstairs. They worked their way upstairs and found the girl curled up on the bed, the comforter pulled up to her chin, wide eyed and staring at the window.
Denise holstered her weapon and approached her very slowly, speaking softly, her hands extended so as not to startle her. “We’re with the sheriff’s department, sweetie. We’re here to help. Are you hurt?”
As soon as she touched the comforter, Alethea screamed and pulled away, pulling the comforter up further and withdrawing to the furthest corner of the bed. She hovered at the edge, unwilling to leave the bed, her eyes not leaving the window.
Denise turned to Justin. “She’s in shock. Get a wagon out here.”
Justin stepped into the hallway and keyed his portable radio. “County, 502.”
“Go ahead, 502,” Brenda responded immediately.
“10-52 at the Davidson residence.”
“Copy that, 502,” she responded.
Justin stepped back into the room and watched Denise slowly work her way around to the end of the bed and get between the girl and the window. He watched the young girl’s eyes grow more frightened when Denise blocked the window, and she jerked side to side trying to see behind her. “It’s okay now, honey. Nobody’s going to hurt you. The police are here.”
Justin heard footsteps coming up the stairs and he ducked out again. Constable Gregory worked this district and must have heard the call. Ignoring the police tape, he let himself in and followed the sound of Justin on the radio to the second floor. “Hey, did you guys know there’s a dead body hanging out in that tree in the front yard?”
Justin rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, Bennie, we knew.”
“Okay. Just checking.” He stepped up to the room and stuck his head in. “Hey Alethea, what’s shaking, peanut?”
The girl finally responded by turning her head. Her lips trembled and her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out as she looked at him. Bennie stared at her a moment and shook his head.
“Cat got your tongue? You’re gonna have to talk louder, peanut, I can’t hear you,” he joked.
She pointed to the window and stuttered, “I-it just t-took him!” she said softly.
“What did, peanut?” Bennie asked. “Took who?”
“Brian. He was…he was…and it…it just…TOOK him!”
Benny stepped into the room and approached her. “Okay, peanut, okay.” He pulled her to him and hugged her tight. “We’ll get this figured out, okay.”
“Do you know her, Bennie?” Denise asked.
Bennie gave her a ‘duh’ look. “Just met. I have a way with puppies and stray kids. Of course I know her. We’re sorta cousins. Her mom’s side.”
Justin nodded. “Okay, we’re going back down to process the scene outside. Can you try to calm her down and see what you can get from her? Maybe take her downstairs…get her out of this room.”
“Sure. We can do that, can’t we, peanut?” Bennie spoke soothingly.
Justin nodded to Denise. “Let’s do this.”
7
Jeff hung up his cell phone and turned to Jon. “Get in the car, this can wait.”
“What? We haven’t finished with—”
“Those bodies have been dead for over a hundred years, kid. Justin needs our help with a fresh one,” he barked. “Murder trumps vandalism any day.”
“Murder?” Jon suddenly got excited, “In Quitman?”
“Yup.” Eckerson started the Charger. He flipped the lights on and this time he turned on the siren. He actually drove Code 3 all the way back with Jon hanging on for dear life.
“You ever work a murder case before?”
“Nope. This will be my first,” Jon replied, his adrenaline pumping and his excitement levels starting to rise.
“Well, I can tell you, they’re a real pain in the ass.”
“Really? How’s that?”
“We do all the hard work, collecting all the physical evidence, interview all of the suspects and persons of interest, then DPS will send in a couple of Rangers who take it over and ‘solve the case’ at the last minute and make the papers after we do all the damned legwork,” Eckerson said through gritted teeth. “Just once, I’d like to see Scott roll up on a scene and say, ‘oh hell, a dead body! Somebody call DPS so the Rangers can take this one’ and then we can all go home at the end of our shift and go to bed.”
“Bitter much?”
Jeff shot him a sideways stare. “Wait ‘til it’s happened to you a couple or three times and then see how you feel about it. Then I’ll ask you how bitter you are.”
Jon had to agree. He hadn’t invested that much time and energy into any investigations just to have another agency come in and take all of his hard work away and finish it then take all of the credit. “Are they sure this one is a murder?”
Eckerson concentrated on the road, but answered, “Justin wasn’t specific, but somebody threw a local football player out of a second story window then dragged him across the yard and hung him in his girlfriend’s front yard. I don’t think I’d call it a suicide just yet.”
Jon continued to hold on while Eckerson burned up the road between themselves and the scene. “You don’t think maybe she broke up with him and he did something stupid?” he asked, playing devil’s advocate.
“I guess we’ll find out when we get there.”
When he finally arrived and pulled the Charger a
long the curb, the coroner was backing his van in to pick up the body. Two of his assistants were up in the tree cutting the rope loose while Justin and Denise steadied the body. “You canvassed the scene and collected everything under the body first, right?” Jeff asked, knowing the answer.
Justin shot him a knowing look. “Stop rubbernecking and give us a hand over here.”
“Relieve Denise, Jon,” Jeff said. The three of them lowered the body to the roll away and Denise removed the rope from his neck and coiled it for evidence bagging.
The medical examiner ran through his checklist, scraping under the nails, checking the exterior and doing a liver temp before the body was removed while Justin pulled Eckerson aside. “This is hokey as hell, brother. You won’t believe the bullshit that the little girl that lives here is spreading.”
“You’d be surprised what I may believe, Justin. Hit me.” Jeff crossed his arms.
Justin glanced around and lowered his voice. “Check this. She’s claiming that Romeo here tried to rape her. Then something kicks in the upstairs window, throws his big ass around like a rag doll, then tosses him out the window and hangs him in the tree here.”
Jeff shook his head. “Something?”
Justin nodded. “Exactly.” He double-checked to make sure nobody was listening in. The last thing he wanted was to start any unfounded rumors until her blood tests came back. “She says that when it first started, she had her eyes closed because he was drawing back to hit her. But when he was lifted off of her, she peeked and he’s stuck to the ceiling.” Jeff raised an eyebrow and gave him a suspicious look. “Yeah, right. A real life Spiderman. Like this invisible hand is just holding him there, okay? Then he’s roughed up and he’s moaning on the floor. When she finally gets brave enough to look, she sees…”
“What?” Jeff asked. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
“A ghost,” he says with a smirk.
He hiked his eyebrows and shot him a skeptical look. “I think they were mainlining Drano.”
“I’d probably agree with you,” Justin said, staring off toward the body.
“Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?”
