“Hello, Detective Brigham,” I said. My service revolver pointed directly at him. “I suppose you came here tonight to kill me.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“It was the pond, Detective, Hollows Pond to be exact. When I first met you there, I couldn’t help but notice your interesting physical attributes. You fit the profile of the killer I had in mind. In talking with you, it occurred to me that you were asking me to do things that were against police protocol, even for your small department. When we first discussed me going into Pullman’s apartment, I found it especially odd that you thought nothing of me going in there without a search warrant. I wondered why. All of our meetings took place at inappropriate places around town, and not in the police station. When I spoke to Dan O’Malley and found out that you hadn’t cleared our meetings, I became suspicious. I recently found out from town locals that you’d been seeing Cheryl Compton on and off for over two years. It was then you became a suspect. I suppose you never counted on an eyewitness to killing your victim, did you? I came to Cogswell to put you behind bars for the senseless murder of my sister-in-law. I’m going to make you pay for killing her in the brutal way you did.”
Brigham was still holding the large kitchen knife.
“When I disguised myself as an old man, I suspected you were watching me. When I purposely told you about the letter carrier suspect I had in mind, I’m sure you saw a perfect opportunity to plant the murder weapon in Jason’s apartment. That’s why you wanted me to go in there and find it. After I deposited the letter I’d written into Pullman’s mailbox, I knew you were watching me. You removed that letter before Jason came home and had a chance to read it. I know this because I saw you take that letter out of his mailbox and read it outside his apartment building. Tonight, you were just being thorough by getting rid of the only eyewitness to your crime. It probably never occurred to you that the elderly gentleman threatening to expose the killer was me in disguise.”
“You gonna kill me?”
I glared at him. “Why did you do it?”
“I was in love with her. For over two years we struggled in a difficult up and down relationship. I loved her, but she didn’t love me. She refused my advances. I kept trying to make her love me, and I was jealous of every boyfriend she ever had. She told me I was just a lousy police detective and didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Why didn’t you leave her alone?”
“I hoped she’d change her mind and see things my way. I tried to repair our relationship many times. She told me I wasn’t good enough for her and kept breaking it off. I felt rejected. Cheryl was nothing like her sister. Angie was an angel, so kind and thoughtful. But Cheryl was no angel. She was a bitch who liked kicking people like me in the balls. I had it with her. On the day I killed her, I just came over to work it out. I wanted to reconcile with her, but she’d have none of it. She laughed in my face and started making her lunch like I wasn’t even there.”
“What about Jason Pullman? Did you plant the murder weapon in his apartment?”
He paused for several moments. “Yes, I did,” he finally said. “After you told me that you were going into his apartment to search for evidence, especially that missing kitchen knife, I decided to incriminate him by placing the murder weapon in his bureau. He seemed like the only real suspect you were going after, and I thought he’d make as good a killer as anyone.”
Holding the gun on him, I stepped closer. “Give me that knife.” He handed me the knife, resigned to his fate and capture.
I put my gun and the knife down on a table, then lunged at Brigham. I threw him against the bureau and started pummeling him. He fought back with a roundhouse blow to my head that sent me reeling against the furniture. He tried to reach for my gun, but I tackled him to the floor. I landed a series of hard body punches while he fought back. We both got up. I grabbed him and swung him against the wall and started smashing his head into it. I wanted to kill him for murdering my wife’s sister. After a short while, I threw him on his back and handcuffed him. Standing over his beaten body and panting, I tried to catch my breath. “Brigham!” I screamed. “The woman you killed wasn’t just my sister-in-law; she was also a human being.” And with that, I called the police.
Several police officers arrived at my apartment. They took the shackled prisoner to jail. I looked around the bedroom walls smeared with blood, satisfied that justice was done. I hoped that now my dead sister-in-law’s spirit could finally rest in peace. I decided to spend the night in town and return to the city in the morning. I went into the bathroom and cleaned the superficial cuts on my face, then got some sleep.
In the morning, I ate a little breakfast and finished my business at the police station. Brigham had already confessed to the murder, perhaps out of shame and guilt, and there was nothing more I could do. After signing some necessary paperwork and giving my statement, I thanked Captain O’Malley for his cooperation. I drove by the cemetery on my way out of town. I wanted to visit my sister-in-law. I knew how much Angie loved her. I was hoping the capture of her killer would finally bring closure for all of us. I said a prayer at her grave, then drove back to the city to be with my wife.
I entered Highgate and Angie looked at me. “Jimmy, what on earth happened to you?”
“It’s nothing. I just had a little fight with your sister’s killer.”
“You did what? You found the person who killed my sister?”
“The man who murdered Cheryl is behind bars, and I’ll make sure he pays for his crime.”
Angie hugged me. “I was worried about you,” she said.
“There wasn’t anything to worry about.” I told her all about my adventure in Cogswell. After I finished telling my story she hugged me again and started to cry. “Why the tears?”
“I’m just glad this nightmare with my sister is finally over. It’s been so emotional for me. I’ve had many sleepless nights. I’m glad you’re here now.”
I gently kissed her. We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing in the apartment. In the evening, we went out to one of our favorite local restaurants. It was great to be home.
The next morning, I got up early and read the newspaper. I was looking at various articles of interest when I heard my wife in the kitchen finishing up with the breakfast dishes. She came out to the dining room and sat down beside me. “Angie, what would you like to do today?”
She looked at me with a sad expression. “I’d like to visit my sister’s grave. Would it be all right if we went today?”
“Of course. You need closure with your sister’s murder. Besides, it’ll do us both good to get out of the house.”
It was a gorgeous spring day. The buds on the trees were starting to pop open, like popcorn scattered in the rolling hills of the countryside. The drive through Branshire County was a lovely one, especially this time of year. The green hills rolled into one another like waves on the gentle sea. As we drove along, Angie seemed unusually quiet. She reflected upon her return to the land where she was born. Before we went to the cemetery, we stopped at her parent’s house. It was still standing after being bought by another family many years ago. It was a small house, sitting on a corner lot. There was a large and empty field across the street where Angie and her sister used to play. My wife looked out at that field and started to cry. After several minutes of teary-eyed reminiscence, she wanted to leave. “It must’ve been wonderful with your sister and all of your friends,” I said.
“Yes, it really was. Cheryl and I had so much fun playing in those open fields with our friends. We didn’t have a care in the world. There wasn’t much to do in town, other than get into mischief and play games. Sometimes we’d play mean-spirited tricks on local shopkeepers, and they’d chase us out. We were just bored, looking for some excitement. I’ll cherish all the times I spent with my sister.”
On the way to the cemetery, Angie kept telling me about the wonderful experiences she had with her sister. Thinking back to my own troubled yout
h, I felt very isolated growing up. I didn’t have any siblings and not many friends. I did spend time with Uncle Willy when he came to visit, but I really envied Angie’s early life with her sister. I’d never know the happiness of her family experience growing up in the quiet little town of Cogswell.
Soon we arrived at the small cemetery where her family was buried. Angie got out of the car and walked over to her sister’s grave. I decided to let her spend several minutes alone before joining her. My wife had gathered some beautiful wild flowers in the field, and she laid them down at Cheryl’s grave. She knelt down and cried for her sister. Soon I joined her and helped her up, and we left the cemetery. We drove back to the center of town.
“Would you like to see the man who murdered Cheryl?” I said.
“I don’t want to see him. I’m satisfied he’s behind bars. I just want to leave this town.” I respected my wife’s wishes and drove back to the city. She was silent for most of the long ride home.
When we arrived home, Angie wanted to rest in bed. While she was resting, I went downtown to visit with the Captain. I wanted to fill him in on the details of what had happened in Cogswell. “Hello, Brandon, how have you been?”
“I’m fine.”
“As you may have already heard, I got the satisfaction in Cogswell I desired.” We discussed my adventure. “Why is it that there always seems to be one or two rotten apples in the barrel?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Angie and I just returned from Cogswell. I took her there to visit her sister at the cemetery. I think it made her sad to return home, but she needed closure. I think she’ll be okay in a day or two.”
I asked about Caroline and the Colonel. It had been several months since their capture. Soon the preliminaries of the trial for the Shadow Stalker killings would begin. “How are they both holding up?”
Brandon shook his head. “Not very well, I’m afraid, like wet dish rags. They’ve been isolated in maximum security. It’s the same routine day after day. Occasionally, a lawyer or someone necessary for their legal preparation will visit, but other than that, they’re both in miserable shape. Thanks to your testimony and those tapes, I think we have a strong case against them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they both hang for this one.”
“I know. It’s really sad for both of them.”
I wrapped up my visit and returned to Highgate. On the way home, I stopped and bought some flowers for Angie. We decided to go out for dinner. I made reservations at the fashionable Ellsworth Hotel. We arrived shortly after seven o’clock. Angie looked stunning in a shimmering blue dress. She’d worn the bracelet I’d gotten her at Templeton’s Jewel Emporium. When we arrived, we were immediately seated at our table. I ordered a bottle of fine wine. Angie was unusually quiet. After dinner, we left the hotel and returned home. I went into my study and lit my pipe. I thought some more about my visit today with Brandon.
Ever since their capture, Caroline and the Colonel were on my mind. The Shadow Stalker case was always in the news or on TV, especially now with their upcoming trial looming near. I couldn’t believe how much vitriolic sentiment still existed in the city about the subway bombings. When I thought about Caroline, I felt sad. I kept wondering where Caroline would be today if her parents weren’t killed in that tragic terrorist train bombing. Would we be together? Would we be married? As I thought about the life Caroline and I shared, I decided that I needed to see her. There were things I just had to tell her. The next day I called Brandon and asked if I could see Caroline, explaining my reasons. He had no objection to a short visit, so it was arranged.
A few days later, I entered police headquarters and was escorted to the maximum-security area. After several checkpoints of security, I was brought to her cell. “Mr. Watson,” a security guard said, “I’ll be here in case you need me.” I looked through the bars. Caroline was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking pregnant and miserable, and to some degree, very frightened. I didn’t see the Colonel anywhere.
“Where is Colonel Richards?” I asked.
“That prisoner had to be removed to solitary confinement for a while. Ever since he got here, his daily uncontrollable rants became intolerable. I hear he’s doing much better now and will soon rejoin us here,” the guard said. I asked the guard to give us some privacy. He obliged.
“Hello Caroline.”
“Did you come here to gloat?”
“I came here to tell you that I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”
“Oh, please, I got what I deserved. I had no right killing those people. They didn’t deserve to die.”
“It wasn’t your fault that your parents were killed by terrorists.”
“No, but it didn’t give me the right to murder. I feel guilty about what I did.”
“I just want you to know something.”
“What?”
“By loving me, you helped me exorcise my childhood demons. For what it’s worth, I appreciate that. I also came here to tell you that I’m married now. I found someone I love very much. I could never marry a killer like you.”
“Okay, you’ve said what you needed to say. Why don’t you leave? Just get the hell out of here.”
“Before I leave, is there anything you want to tell me?”
“Yeah, get the fuck out of here!”
“All right, if that’s the way you want it.” I stared at her for several seconds, then left the jail. Driving back to Highgate, I felt there was so much left unsaid. There was no satisfaction in seeing her behind bars. Today’s visit was the final chapter in our relationship. I knew I’d never see her again.
Several weeks passed. The Beijing Acrobatic Dance Troupe was performing in the city. Earlier in the week, I’d bought tickets for tonight’s performance. Angie and I were driven to the Paramour Performance Center and quickly escorted to our seats. We had a wonderful view of these Chinese acrobats, dressed in glittering costumes. The performance was about to begin.
With a dazzling array of colored lights and stage fog, seven snakelike ropes descended from the top of the ceiling to the stage below. Seven acrobats slithered down the ropes to a wonderfully warm and receptive response from the audience. One acrobat quickly climbed the middle rope and disappeared at the top of the stage in a puff of smoke. After a minute, several more acrobats appeared on stage and the performance was underway.
These extraordinary Chinese acrobats kept me, Angie, and the sold-out theater spellbound for over two hours. We were all on the edges of our seats in anticipation and excitement. At the end of the performance, the seven acrobats climbed the ropes and disappeared in puffs of blue smoke at the top of the stage, only to reappear moments later onstage to a thunderous ovation from a grateful audience. The entire audience was on their feet, clapping wildly, demanding many encores. Angie was thrilled. Soon we left the performing arts complex and were driven home. We were exhausted from the performance and retired early.
The next day I got a call from my uncle’s lawyer, John Malcolm. My uncle’s estate was close to being settled. I decided to hire John to handle all of my legal affairs. His law firm helped me negotiate the many pitfalls concerning the charities my uncle championed. They were all good causes and I decided to continue supporting them. I knew that was what Uncle Willy would’ve wanted me to do.
My life was now involved in charity work and pursuing my interest in solving unusual homicides. It seemed that I was well on my way to realize my boyhood dream. There were times I missed my work and friends at the Bureau, but now I had Angie. We were inseparable in our love and devotion to each other. The city had much to offer, and we thrived together in this abundance of cultural diversity. My wife was involved with many organizations and causes around the city, improving the lives of the less fortunate. I was proud of all that she was doing. My uncle was absolutely right when he told me that living was all about giving. Each day I continued my hunt through the newspapers looking for i
nteresting and intriguing items to pursue.
After months of delays and legal wrangling, the trial was about to begin for Caroline and the Colonel. The Shadow Stalker killings had generated tremendous interest and press coverage around the world. Everybody was eager to begin the trial. The grieving relatives of those killed in the bombings, along with mobs of angry people seeking justice, flooded the area outside the jail and inside the courtroom. The large crowd swelled as the two prisoners were led into the courtroom. After months of imprisoned captivity, they finally saw the light of day. Both of them were scheduled to make an appearance before the judge.
I watched the preliminaries of the trial get underway on television from my home. The media crush and frenzy of reporters inside the room intensified to a boil as the two shackled prisoners were led to their seats. There was much yelling and screaming. The judge banged his gavel. Security had to remove many of the loudest and most disruptive people. Both prisoners stood up and faced the judge. I didn’t recognize either of them. The Colonel’s drawn and tired face looked pathetic. He seemed to have aged in prison. His black hair was noticeably whiter, and he looked emaciated. Several times he looked up with a murderous glance in the direction of the prosecution. I felt sorry for the shackled Colonel, but he needed to pay for his crimes. This refugee from hell had to die. Colonel Richards approached the bench.
“How do you plead?” the judge asked him.
“Go to hell,” he shouted. The Colonel spat at the judge, then dragged his chains slowly back to where he was sitting. Someone from the crowd jumped up and lunged at the Colonel, knocking him to the floor. The enraged attacker had to be restrained by six security guards. There was upheaval in the courtroom as the judge’s gavel continued its loud, non-stop banging.
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