by Mark Tufo
He turned the police radio down to be less of an annoyance and pulled the business card from his shirt pocket. He stared at the number on the card and considered his options. True, he could call her and try to apologize, but what had he really done? He was honest from the beginning. He didn’t really know how to talk to girls. He had always concentrated on his studies. It was a promise he made his mother years ago. He had no real practice in the fine art of flirting. All of his female friends were just that—friends. They didn’t expect anything from him and he expected nothing more than friendship from them.
He sighed again and set the card on his dashboard. “What do I do? If I call her, I’ll just stammer and stutter and make an idiot of myself.” He tried to calm himself by speaking out loud. He picked up the card again and pulled out his cell phone.
He dialed the number for her cell phone and punched enter, then just as quickly hit the end call button and set his cell phone in the center console. “Who are you kidding? She’ll just laugh at you.” He punched the steering wheel in frustration and was just about to put the truck back into gear and pull out when his phone rang.
Without thinking and without checking the caller ID, he picked it up and answered, “Foo.”
A sleepy sounding voice on the other line said, “Why did you call me and hang up?”
Jon’s heart skipped a beat as he realized that it was Ginger. His voice caught in his throat as he tried to think of a reason, but his mind went blank. “I…” he began, but nothing came to mind.
“Are you still there?” He could hear rustling as she shifted the phone, then her voice again, just a bit distant, “I still have signal.” Then her voice was clearer as she obviously put it back to her mouth, “Are you in a rough spot or something? Do you not have good signal?”
“No, I…” he started, then paused. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier.” He listened a moment to her breathing on the other line. “I was way out of line, and I’m sorry.”
“You really hurt me.”
“I’m sorry. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly the smoothest guy in the world when it comes to talking to girls. You make me nervous.”
She laughed then and Jon could feel his face flush. “Me? I make you nervous? How is that? You’re a cop, nothing should make you nervous. You get shot at for a living!”
Jon chuckled. “Yeah, it’s not like that. If being a cop were anything like what it’s like on TV, even the adrenaline junkies would quit after a couple of days.”
“Oh really? So it’s not all coffee and doughnuts?” she laughed.
“Coffee, yes. Doughnuts, no.” He laughed, suddenly feeling much better about talking to her. “It’s mostly driving around a lot and then doing tons of paperwork if you catch anybody breaking the law.”
“Hmm. Nobody likes doing paperwork.” She stifled a yawn.
“I woke you, didn’t I?”
“It’s okay. I had just gone to bed. Well, if you can call the front seat of an RV ‘bed’.”
“An RV?”
“We’re staying in the belly of the beast. It’s an RV we travel in when we investigate paranormal stuff. Normally, I would have folded down the dinette table and made it into a bed, but…”
“But, what?”
She chuckled to herself. “It’s a long story. The short version is, my co-workers recently had their eyes opened to something we all knew anyway and now they’re making up for lost time. Nobody is getting much sleep now.”
Jon tried to imagine what she meant but simply said, “Oh-kay.”
Ginger laughed as she shifted in the driver’s seat of the RV. “So what are you doing now?”
“Now? I’m parked on the side of the road, talking to you.”
“I meant on the case, knucklehead.”
“Oh, uh, nothing new. Got sidetracked tonight with some low-lifes.”
“And you thought you’d hit me up to see what evidence we had?” she asked teasingly.
“What?” Jon exclaimed. “No.”
“Sure you did. You hit a brick wall so you thought you’d find out what we had.” She was smiling and fighting back a laugh.
“No, I swear. I just wanted to tell you I was sorry for being so…”
“Relax, big boy. I’m just bustin’ your balls.”
“What?” Jon stared into the darkness, thoroughly confused.
Ginger laughed again and curled her toes. She pulled her knees up under her chin and wrapped the blanket tighter. “I’m teasing you. Can’t you tell when a girl is teasing you?”
Jon sighed and leaned back in his seat, staring up at the roof of his truck. “Apparently not,” he deadpanned.
Ginger laughed again. “We’re parked across from the Dollar General Store. If you’ll haul your gorgeous rear end over here, maybe I can show you some of the evidence we’ve collected,” she purred into the phone.
Jon actually choked a bit when her voice dropped low and sultry. “Okay. I can be there in ten minutes.” He turned the ignition on.
“Make it five and you can watch me get dressed.”
Jon barely hesitated before turning the lights on overhead and throwing on the siren. He knew he was out of town and nobody would be around to hear it but her over the phone, but he felt it got the message across.
“Deal!” He clicked the phone off and floored the accelerator.
*****
Denise pulled to a stop and checked Casper in her rearview mirror. The man seemed nearly catatonic in the backseat of her cruiser the entire way to the department. She had tried numerous times to get him to open up to her but he simply sat staring out the window.
She stepped from the cruiser and opened the rear door of the car and gently pulled Casper from the backseat. “It’s going to be okay, Casper. I promise. We’ll get your statement and you can be on your way. We just need to make it all official.” She helped him to stand and shut the door. “Besides, if you stuck this guy as good as you said, surely he’s going to need medical assistance, right? So then we can catch him and find out what all of this is about.”
Casper finally turned dead eyes to her and said flatly, “Unless he’s dead.”
The headlights from Eckerson’s cruiser lit the two up, followed by Roger’s beat up and smoke-spewing truck. The old beater belched, backfired and farted before finally dying in a parking space near the entrance to the sheriff’s office. Roger stepped out and he still didn’t seem very happy about being there. Denise shook her head at the scowl on his face as she gently took Casper by the elbow and escorted him into the station.
Eckerson held the door for Roger who actually growled at the man when he stepped through. “Must be a real change for you to be coming in this door and not in irons, huh?” Jeff grinned at him. Roger paused and glared at the man, but refused to rise to the bait. “Just keep moving.”
The four moved past Deputy Tatum’s station and into the workstation area. “I’m gonna get a coffee, Jeff. Want one?” Denise asked.
“Yup. I’ll grab the statement forms.”
Denise turned to Casper. “Would you like a coffee, too?”
He simply shook his head and sat beside her desk, his hands neatly folded in his lap. She patted his shoulder and assured him that she’d be right back.
Eckerson laid a form down in front of Casper and a ballpoint pen. “Fill out the top and then write your statement out in your own hand, your own words as best you can recall. Don’t worry about spelling or punctuation. It won’t be graded, just make sure we can read it.”
Casper looked at him as if he were crazy, then picked up the pen as if it were a foreign object. Slowly he turned the form around and began reading it.
Denise returned and sat the coffee down at Jeff’s desk then took her own seat beside Casper. “If you have any questions, just ask me.”
He turned sad eyes upon her and whispered, “I don’t read too good.” He glanced over at Roger who was staring at the ‘Ten Most Wanted’ poster on the bulletin board while Eck
erson did something at his desk. “I don’t write too good either.”
Denise gave him a knowing smile. “That’s okay. Do the best you can. If you have a problem, tell me.”
Casper sighed heavily then bent over the form.
Eckerson slammed a pen down hard on his desk. “Hey, hot shot,” he called to Roger. “We’re going to need your statement as well.”
Roger turned slowly and gave him a sly grin. “How about, eat shit and die?”
Jeff raised an eyebrow. “How about, aiding and abetting?” He crossed his arms and stared at the man. “Or better yet, ‘impeding an investigation’?” He motioned toward the form and added, “I can add all sorts of charges if I want. This is the easy way out.”
Roger sighed and stomped over to the desk. “This is bullshit and you know it.” He plopped down behind the desk and picked up the pen.
“Maybe so, but it has to be done.”
As Roger bent over his own form and began filling it out, Brenda approached Eckerson. “Roger Culley?” she asked, extending a file folder.
“Yeah.” Jeff nodded, taking the file.
“Why? I ain’t’ got no warrants or nothing,” Roger said, looking up.
Brenda glanced at him and then back at Jeff. Jeff flipped through the file and closed it. “You related to Brian Culley?”
“Yeah. He’s my half-brother.” Roger leaned back in his chair and studied the two deputies. “Why? What did he do?”
Brenda shrugged and nodded to Jeff. “He’s got no other next of kin that we can locate.”
“He’s eighteen. He’s responsible for hisself,” Roger said, waving them off and turning back to his paper.
“How are you two related?” Brenda asked.
Roger gave her a sideways glance. “Same old man. Different moms. Both of our moms are dead.” He set the pen down and gave her a hard look. “And now, so is the old man, so…”
“So you are his only next of kin?” Eckerson asked.
“What’s with all the questions?”
“Your brother was killed a few nights ago,” Eckerson began.
“Half-brother,” Roger corrected again, seemingly not surprised and not caring. “What did he do to get hisself kilt?”
“He was murdered,” Eckerson stated bluntly. “Beaten to death and hung.”
“And shot,” Brenda added. “Don’t’ forget the bullet hole that…” she paused when Eckerson shot her a look that she didn’t quite recognize.
Jeff turned back to Culley and nodded. “And shot.”
Roger grunted. “Hell of a way to commit suicide if you ask me.”
“Suicide?” Brenda and Jeff both responded.
Roger continued to write without looking up. “Isn’t that the shit y’all call it when an undesirable like myself ends up dead? You just call it suicide so you don’t have to find out who it was and pin a medal on their chest.”
Eckerson stared at Brenda and ground his teeth together. Brenda simply shook her head and walked away, slapping the file folder against her thigh as she strode from the bullpen.
“You’re a real class act, you know it, Culley?” Eckerson mumbled as he sipped his coffee.
“Yeah. I do try.” Roger continued to write. “Here. I think this covers it.” He handed Jeff the witness statement.
Eckerson took the form and sat at his desk. He looked over the brief statement. “Casper came to my trailer and said he stabbed a guy. He stunk so I made him shower. I drove him to the cops who then beat me up and cuffed my ass. Then they made me come here and write this shit down. The end.” Eckerson stared at Roger who sat beside his desk smiling like a cat who ate the canary. “Seriously?”
“You can lead a horse to water.”
“Fine.” He took the witness statement and signed the bottom of the form. He then made a copy and gave it to Roger. “When the DA calls you as a material witness, you’ll have a copy of your statement. This is, of course, basically the same as a sworn statement in court. Anything you change between now and the interview with him or any other law enforcement officers will be considered perjury.”
“I don’t give a shit, man.” Roger snatched the paper out of his hand and crumpled it. “It’s not like I’m going to be considered a reliable witness anyway.”
Eckerson simply nodded and put the original statement in his in basket. “I guess you’re free to go, unless you want to wait for your friend and maybe give him a ride back.”
Roger glanced over his shoulder at Casper leaned over his paper, diligently writing away. He glanced at the clock on the wall and groaned. “What the hell, man. If I don’t, he’ll be stuck walking.” He stood up and stretched, then walked back over to the most wanted posters.
Denise poured another cup of coffee and sat back at her desk. “How’s it coming?”
“Just about done.” Casper leaned up and looked at his paper. Nodding he handed it to her and she looked at it, trying hard to read it. ‘I think I mite haf kilt a man. I stabd him a lots.’
Denise gently lay the form down and patted Casper’s hand. “Would you like me to type out the words for you? You tell me what to say and I’ll type them. Then we can have Deputy Tatum read it back to you. If it sounds right, you can sign it. Okay?”
Casper studied her a moment then nodded. “Okay. I think it would sound better if we maybe did that.”
Denise opened her laptop and woke it up. Opening her Word documents, she started a new document and began typing as Casper recited the events that took place that evening. He began with arriving home and being accosted and ended with Denise offering to bring him to the station to take a statement. When she was done typing, she pressed the button to print the document and got up to retrieve it.
As she walked to the printer, Justin came out of the interrogation room to refill his coffee. “Hey, junior boss man,” she said, shooting him a wink.
“What’s up?”
“Just printing out a statement. Local was in an altercation with an unknown assailant. Claims he stabbed the assailant a few times before fleeing. Turned himself in and wanted to make a statement.”
Justin’s brows knitted. “Anybody show up at an ER with stab wounds?”
“Not so far. Either the story is fabricated, or the attacker didn’t survive the stabbing.”
Justin raised a brow and glanced over her shoulder. “Isn’t that the meth head that’s usually getting picked up for B&E’s?”
“Yup. He’s good for the usual petty thefts and whatnot, but violent crimes?” She shook her head. “Not his cup of tea. Way too timid.”
“Stay on top of this. Something seems fishy.”
Jerrod Miller stepped out of the interrogation room and stretched his back. “Deputy, if the offer is still good, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll take that cup of coffee,” he said, a slight smile crossing his face.
“Can do.” Justin nodded to the older man.
“Is that…” Denise began.
“Yeah. I’ll explain later.” Justin held a hand up to hold off her interrogation.
Roger heard Miller’s voice and turned as though someone had yelled ‘fire’. His eyes bulged, then narrowed as his vision turned red at the sight of the man who was still at the top of his own personal ‘most wanted’ list. He turned from the bulletin board and quickly advanced on Jerrod Miller.
“You son of a bitch,” he growled.
Miller looked up to see the low-life grave robber that had once performed his dirty work crossing the very police station that he was now standing in. The color drained from his face as he glanced around the station, his mind attempting to determine why the man might be here. Surely Anthony hadn’t acted this quickly.
“Were you arrested?” he asked as he backed away from him, his hands held up in defense.
“You’re a cheatin’ bastard,” Roger swore as he passed the desks and reached out to grab Jerrod Miller by the shirt front. Miller tried to pull away from him but Roger pulled him off balance and threw him to the floor.
“Roger, don’t do it!” Casper yelled, knocking the chair back as he got to his feet. “Not here…”
It was too late as Culley launched himself on top of Miller and began raining blows down on top of his face.
Eckerson slid across Foo’s desk, knocking everything to the floor and took Roger into a choke hold, lifting him off of the older man. “Not on my watch, punk,” Eckerson promised through gritted teeth.
Roger did his best to ignore the officer across his back, cutting off his air. His hatred and rage for old man Miller had him reaching out to wrap his hands around the man’s throat as the cop pulled him back and away, his eyes bulging with madness. Roger’s mind had him screaming with rage. He attempted to scream, ‘I’m gonna kill you!’ but the arm across his throat only allowed him to croak out, “Ack, grryu.”
Jeff pulled the crazy hillbilly to the ground and spun him to his stomach, putting his knee to the small of the man’s back. He threw his hand back behind him and pulled his handcuffs from his duty belt and had Roger’s right wrist cuffed before Roger’s oxygen-deprived mind could register what was occurring.
Jeff pulled the man’s arm back and behind his back before releasing the hold on his neck and grabbing his other wrist that had a weak hold on his forearm. He pulled it back and cuffed it while Roger choked, coughed and sucked air deep into his burning lungs. Jeff made no effort to take his weight off of his knee as he got up off the man spilled across the floor and stood facing Miller who was holding a hand to his own face.
Jeff caught his breath and hitched his pants up a notch. “Care to tell me what the hell that was about?”
Miller’s eyes darted between the deputies in the room, Casper and the Texas Ranger. “I-I don’t know,” he lied.
“Really?” Justin asked as he stepped forward and rolled Roger to his side, still coughing. “I suppose we could pull him into an interrogation room and ask him ourselves.”
Casper groaned and turned away as Roger continued to cough and rolled to his back then to his other side, attempting to heave. Miller looked to Justin and paled.
