Silenced Girls

by Roger Stelljes

  “Ballsy, driving that thing out in public tonight,” Tori remarked.

  “Everything tells you something.”

  Braddock and Tori went inside while Steak, who’d followed along in his own truck, remained outside and took photos of the van, getting some close-ups of the tires and their tread, along with photos of the front, sides and back to show to Fran Larson.

  As Steak took photos Tori stopped and said, “Wait.”

  “Okay. Why?”

  “I need to do something first.”

  Tori looked in the truck’s side mirror. She reopened the truck and reached into her purse and took out some light red lipstick and applied it. Next, she took off the butterfly bandage and then applied some makeup to the scratch.

  “The hair needs work,” she murmured as she undid her hair from her ponytail and let it fall to her shoulders, tossing and re-tossing it with her fingers, giving it some life, letting it fall along the sides of her face for a sultry look. She’d let her red blouse hang loose, but now she tucked it tight into her pants so that it hugged closely to her body and then she undid an extra button, revealing just a hint of cleavage. She turned to him. “What do you think?”

  Braddock stammered, “Uh…wow!”

  “Down, boy,” Tori replied lightly with a bright smile, a little surprised by both his visible appreciation of her new look and that she felt a tingle of excitement that he did.

  “Well, you’ll get his attention, that’s for sure. My question is what’s your play here?”

  “If he’s a killer of women, let’s see how he reacts to me and this look, especially since looking like this is about as close as I could ever get to looking like Jessie,” Tori added, taking another look in the mirror.

  “Make him think he’s looking at a ghost.”

  “A little something like that,” she replied, still tossing her hair, using it to help cover the scratch on her cheek. “If I had more time, I could do a little more with all this,” she noted with a light laugh before turning back to Braddock. “Let’s go.”

  “You lead, I’ll follow,” Braddock replied agreeably as he followed Tori and let his eyes just briefly gaze upon her as she walked. With her hair down and walking with a little extra sassy hip sway, she was strikingly attractive. Down boy was right.

  Inside, Braddock and Tori found Brule sitting at a table with another man. Tori led them over, striding purposefully.

  “Gunther, we need to ask you some questions,” Tori said matter of factly, and just a little loudly as she pulled out the chair next to him to sit down. Braddock looked over at the other man at the table and tilted his head toward the bar. The man took the hint, picked up his beer and hastily walked away.

  “I’ll catch up with you,” Gunther said to his friend before taking in Tori, who was leaning forward in her chair smiling, her eyes warm and friendly. If her plan was to get Brule to look her over, to appreciate her physical beauty, to leer, it worked. Gunther’s mouth was a bit agape. It was clear he wasn’t sure what to make of her approach.

  After a moment, Braddock intentionally snapped Brule out of his stare by slamming his chair down and turning it around backward before sitting down, resting his arms over the chair’s back and facing him.

  Brule glanced over to Braddock, who was relaxed and casual. He eagerly turned his attention back to Tori, who’d gone from a pleasant smile to a suddenly intense glare that instantly made Brule visibly uncomfortable.

  “I heard someone took a shot at you today,” Brule said flippantly to Tori. As an overall conversation starter, it was a mistake.

  Tori held up her left hand. “Yeah, about that,” she replied, her glare boring into him, her voice rising. “You got anything you want to tell me? Perhaps some grudge against me or Jess that you’re trying to avenge? Tell me, Gunther, did my sister, my beautiful gorgeous identical twin sister, turn you down twenty years ago? Did Jessie not welcome your advances or the look? And you know what look I’m talking about, it’s the hungry look you just gave me. Jessie didn’t like that look, she wasn’t interested in you, so you killed her!”

  “Whoa!” Gunther replied, stunned at the hostility and suddenly realizing where the topic was going. He glanced around the VFW. People were peering in their direction with interest at the disturbance and raised voices. “Let’s take this outside.”

  “Oh, let’s.”

  A minute later as they gathered on the sidewalk, Gunther lit up a cigarette.

  “Are you going to answer my question?” Tori pressed angrily, her arms folded across her chest. Braddock just let her go.

  “Why? Why would I know anything about that?” Gunther replied.

  “Where were you at six forty-five this morning?”

  “At home sleeping. It’s Saturday.”

  “Can anyone verify that?”

  Brule looked at her with a blank expression before slowly shaking his head. “No, I don’t suppose anyone can. I live alone, the old lady bailed on me six years ago. I had a lot to drink last night. I didn’t wake up until, I don’t know. It was like noon, I think. Which was weird. Booze doesn’t usually hit me like that.”

  “I see,” Tori replied, unconvinced.

  “Why are you asking me about this?”

  “I’m asking the questions,” Tori shot back. “Tell us about last night.”

  Brule explained that he had a lot to drink at Eddie Mannion’s house. “I went to Eddie’s and hung out on his deck. We went out on the pontoon for a bit and then sat around drinking into the night.”

  “You said we. Who else was there?” Braddock asked.

  “Eddie, Jeff Warner was there. Kyle stopped by. It’s like an open house at Eddie’s on Fridays, so a few others drifted in and out. They’ll all verify I was there.”

  “Well, it’s not last night that’s the problem, Brule,” Braddock noted, his notebook now out but he nodded to Tori to go ahead.

  “Tell me, do you still work at the explosives plant?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And what do you do there?” Tori queried.

  “I’m an operations manager.”

  “So, you run the place?”

  “I’m one of the people who does.”

  “You guys have mercury out there?”

  “Sure. So?”

  Tori turned to look at the panel van. “I assume that’s yours.”

  Gunther acknowledged that the white van was indeed his.

  “Gunther, what kind of guns do you own?”

  Brule’s eyes widened and he sensed danger. “My guns are none of your business.”

  “You really think that’s the play here?” Tori asked, her hands on her hips now as she was leaning in.

  “You have a warrant, Tori? I have rights.”

  “Do you think I’m going to have a problem getting one?” she replied with amusement. “What do you think, Will?”

  “A lot of interest in the Lash case and your sister’s disappearance, plus we shouldn’t forget that Katy Anderson has gone missing and Gunther here certainly was a denizen of our fine town when all of these unfortunate events occurred. I’m sure one of our honorable judges would share our noble interest in the pursuit of justice.”

  “Now wait a minute…”

  “No, you wait,” Tori replied, raising her voice. “You like guns. You like to hunt. You were in the army, a soldier, an infantryman. You served in Iraq on the front line.”

  “So?”

  “What’s the farthest distance you’ve ever shot someone from, a hundred yards? Two-hundred yards?”

  “I’m not responding to that.”

  “Why not, you got something to hide?” She looked over to Braddock. “I think he’s got something to hide.”

  “Could be,” Braddock replied more casually, pivoting slightly left and gesturing toward the white Ford panel van. “Your van there, Gunther. You’re sure, you’re absolutely sure you weren’t out driving that rig on Country Road 96 this morning?”

  “No. Again for the tenth time
. I. Was. Sleeping.”

  “Which nobody can verify,” Tori asserted hotly but she was in control. Braddock could tell she was trying to provoke Brule.

  “Why would somebody have to verify it? Why are you asking me all these questions?”

  Tori and Braddock responded with silence, being patient, waiting for it.

  Suspects being interrogated couldn’t stand silence. It made them nervous, so they asked questions or made statements that provided more information. And then, there it was.

  “What? You think I took a shot at you this morning?” Brule laughed. “Good luck with that, Tor,” he said as he flicked his finished cigarette aside and exhaled smoke. “I can tell you this, if I took a shot at you, you wouldn’t be standing here now.”

  “Hmm. Really? The shot at me this morning was from a good distance, one-hundred fifty yards or so with a moving target. It was a tough shot. It would require someone with experience to even attempt it, let alone execute it. How many folks around here have that? How many people have that experience and a history with Jessie, me, Katy Anderson and Genevieve Lash? I bet pinching her ass that night wasn’t all you did.”

  “Now, Gunther,” Braddock started, stepping in while Tori backed away. “Right now, we’re just asking questions,” he stated calmly, evenly, without emotion, closing his notebook and stuffing the pen through the spirals. “But someone tried to blow me up with a mercury tilt switch underneath my truck. Now where around here might someone get mercury?”

  “I could take a wild guess,” Tori snarked.

  Braddock chuckled and then nodded to his partner. “Someone tried to shoot Tori, and in looking at who that could be your name came up. Like Special Agent Hunter here said, you knew Jessie Hunter, you were a classmate of Katy Anderson and you had an incident with Genevieve Lash the night she went missing.”

  “And someone drove me home after that,” Gunther barked.

  “That’s right,” Braddock replied. “Around eleven p.m. Lash left the bar around one a.m. Your pickup truck was left at Mannion’s on the Lake, but not your van here. Can you verify where you were between one a.m. and say seven a.m. on July 5th?”

  “I was at home sleeping.”

  Tori laughed. “Well, isn’t that a familiar alibi. Can anyone verify that?”

  Gunther didn’t respond.

  “Look at it from my perspective, Gunther,” Braddock replied reasonably. “You like guns and have experience. You work at an explosives plant where I bet you could get ahold of some mercury and you have this van over here.”

  “Why are you so interested in my van?”

  “Maybe you ought to ask yourself that question,” Tori replied.

  “I got nothing against you guys.”

  “So you say,” Tori answered, but then held up her bandaged hand and pointed to the slightly covered but still visible scratch on her left cheek. “You better hope you didn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Is that a threat?” Gunther asked directly.

  “No,” Braddock replied evenly with his hands in his pants pockets and his posture relaxed, countering the heat and hostility of his partner, until he cocked his left eyebrow and dropped his voice. “But, if you did, we’ll figure it out and then you’ll have a lot of questions to answer for, and not just for taking a shot at us.” He looked over to Tori. “Let’s go.”

  Braddock and Tori turned to leave and while starting to walk away, Braddock took out a pair of rubber gloves and handed them to Tori, along with an evidence bag and they stopped at the cigarette that Brule had flicked away.

  Tori leaned down while Braddock took three quick photos with his cell phone. She picked up the cigarette butt and dropped it into the evidence bag before looking back at Brule with an evil grin on her face.

  Brule just glared back at them.

  Braddock and Tori walked farther down the street and got into a sheriff’s department unmarked Ford Explorer. Before she got into the Explorer Tori peered back at Brule, who continued to scowl.

  “Once inside the truck,” Braddock smiled over to her. “You know what, I think we’ve earned a beer of our own.”

  “Lead the way. I’ll buy.”

  Brule checked his rearview and side mirrors constantly as he drove west out of Manchester. Having had three beers, he was careful to follow the posted limit along the way, coming to a complete stop at all stop signs and lights while continuing to look back for a tail. The mirrors remained mostly clear all the way home, including his last glance before turning slowly left and taking the long narrow tunnel-like, tree-lined gravel driveway that led to the open clearing where his one-story house and expansive detached garage were located. With all his tools, equipment and an old fishing boat he was restoring taking all the room up in the garage, along with his Dodge Ram pickup truck, he pulled his van to the right of the garage, parking it on the exposed cement slab.

  As he angrily stalked across the driveway to the house, he peered warily back down the driveway, but it remained dark. Inside the house, he put the keys on the hook by the back door and went to his refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Budweiser. He twisted off the top and took a long gulping drink, narrow streams of liquid trickling down his cheeks, downing at least half the bottle before pulling it from his lips and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Pacing manically around his kitchen, agitated, he started working from window to window, peering around the edges of curtains or tweezering open blinds, looking out trying to see if anyone was coming up the driveway. Not satisfied, he went outside and walked down the driveway, hewing close to the right side and the thick tree line. When he reached the end, he was careful to hang back just inside the edge of the tree-line and crouched down as he peered west and then east back toward Manchester. The road was quiet. He didn’t see anyone parked and observing his property.

  He walked back up the driveway to the house. Inside, he took his cell phone and called Eddie Mannion.

  Eddie answered on the second ring. “Hey, Gunth…”

  “Did you drive me home last night?” he asked, suspicious.

  “Uhhhh yeah, don’t you remember? You were like way too hammered to drive.”

  He sighed and exhaled. “That’s what I thought, or at least that’s what I thought I remembered.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You drove my van back here?”

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I have?”

  “Who drove you home?”

  “Jeff. He followed us there, helped me get you in the house because, my friend, you needed help getting in the house. I got you into bed, left a glass of water on the nightstand because I’m that kind of friend and then left you to sleep it off. Jeff dropped me back off at home. Now again, why?”

  “Because someone tried to shoot Tori Hunter this morning.”

  “I know, I heard. Everybody’s heard. It’s all over town.”

  “And someone tried to blow up Will Braddock,” Gunther replied anxiously. “You know him, right?”

  “Sure. I heard that too, his truck exploded. But again, so?”

  “I think they think I tried to do it.”

  “They?”

  “Tori Hunter and Braddock,” Gunther answered and then related the confrontation with the two of them at the VFW. “I’m telling you, Eddie, they think I did it.”

  “What did you say to them?”

  “I tried not to say much, although you know me, I got a little pissed,” Gunther answered, sighing. “Man, this is…”

  “What did they ask you?”

  “Umm…they kept asking about my van and then they asked what guns I owned.”

  “Tell me you didn’t say anything.”

  “On the guns, no. I said nothing, that it was none of their business and maybe something about them needing a warrant.”

  “You suggested a warrant? Dude, there’s some red meat for them,” Eddie replied, exasperated. “Cripes.”

  “They put me on the spot, man. I mean they aske
d about the guns, but they asked more about the damn van, and then they picked up my cigarette butt I tossed on the sidewalk and put it in a plastic bag,” he replied as he took another beer out of his fridge and twisted off the top and then took a long drink.

  “Gunther? Gunther?” Eddie asked.

  “Sorry, I was slamming a beer,” Gunther replied, as he wiped drops of beer off the front of his shirt. “I don’t get why they’re so fixated on the van. They kept asking me if I was out driving on County Road 96 this morning around seven, or maybe seven-thirty.”

  “Were you?”

  “No! God, you sound like them, Eddie.”

  “I’m just asking questions, buddy,” Eddie replied. “I’m just trying to help.”

  “I was sleeping, I was fuckin’ passed out drunk sleeping. I didn’t wake up until like noon. What the hell did I have to drink last night?”

  “I didn’t think anything out of the ordinary,” Eddie answered. “Now, did they tell you why they thought you had anything to do with it?”

  Gunther shook his head. “No, they just kept asking questions about the van, what I was doing this morning. Like I said, they asked and asked again if I was out driving out on County Road 96, stuff like that.”

  “Huh.”

  “Huh what?” Gunther asked, hearing the questioning tone from Eddie. “Huh what, Eddie?”

  “I wonder.”

  “You wonder what?”

  “I wonder if they’re asking about County 96 because what I’m hearing is that the shots at Tori Hunter came from high on the bluff on the west-side of the H-4, a couple miles north out of town. The shots happened around seven a.m., maybe a little earlier. The shooter had to get away from there so I’m guessing that someone thinks they saw you, or maybe your van, or a van like your van in that area this morning.”

  That had to be it, Gunther thought as he took another long pull off his beer before setting the empty bottle down on the counter. “Man, Eddie. The way Tori and Braddock looked at me, talked to me, challenged me, I think I might need a lawyer. The guy I used years ago when I had that thing with my ex, he’s retired now. How about Jeff? He’d scare the hell out of them. Would he help me?”