by Al Boudreau
“Yep. Looks like she cared about quality,” I said as I slid the doohickey on the contraption back and forth. The mechanism squeaked and screeched like a bird protecting it’s young. It was enough to give me a migraine.
“Please stop,” James said as he returned from some other room in the unit. “Fingernails on a chalkboard would be a welcome sound after the racket you’re making with that thing.”
“Guess Robbie’s old man never told her about the wonders of spray lubricant,” Bruce added.
“Anyway, this place has been vacant for a number of days, at a minimum,” James said. “Maybe longer.”
“So … that’s it?” Sarah asked as she walked over toward the dining room window.
“Guess so,” I replied. “Cole may be in the area, but it doesn’t look like he’s been staying here.”
“Huh,” she said as she stood there, staring.
“Why? Do you disagree? Because, we can search this place a while longer.”
“No. Sorry. It wasn’t a response to anything you said. Come here and check this out.”
I walked over, put my hand on Sarah’s shoulder, and looked out the window to see what she was seeing.
No more than twenty feet away, on the far side of the security fence, stood the wife of Mark Cutter, tossing a baseball to her young son.
“What are you two looking at?” James inquired.
“Cutter’s widow. She’s out in their yard playing catch with their boy.”
James came closer and nodded. “Nice lady. Very emotional when I interviewed her. She’s having a rough time with the loss of her husband.”
“Poor woman,” Sarah said. “You can see it from here. She’s putting on a brave face for her kids, but … well, I just can’t imagine how difficult it must be.”
“Did you two want to speak with Mrs. Cutter while we’re here?” James asked.
I looked at Sarah. She pursed her lips and gave a subtle shake of her head.
“We can always call on her at a later time if we need to,” I said. “Let’s give them their space.”
“Your call,” James said, then turned to Bruce. “Do you have a card I can hold on to in case I need to contact you directly?”
“They’re in my car,” he responded. “I’ll walk you nice people out and grab a couple cards once we get over to the rec center lot. My vehicle’s parked a few cars down from yours.”
James slapped Bruce on the shoulder and gave him a nod. “Guess we’re all set, then.”
Bruce followed us out of Cole’s unit and checked the door to make sure it was locked.
“I don’t see any cameras out here in the hall, and I didn’t notice any when we approached the entry, either,” I said to Bruce.
He shook his head. “The owners said they didn’t want them in those locations, so we had them removed.”
“People are funny,” I responded. “Million dollar units, and minimal surveillance.”
As the four of us made our way out through the main entrance, I could hear the shrill call of Cutter’s son, taunting his mom to throw him some heat. Whoo, pitch it in here. Whoo, pitch it in here. Whoo, pitch it in here.
“That could get old in a hurry,” I said to Sarah.
“That’s terrible, Carter. Poor little kid just lost his dad. Cut him some slack.”
“Sorry. You’re right,” I said, but her comment got me thinking. “Kid seems pretty upbeat. Do you suppose Cutter’s wife is holding out on her children?”
“You mean keeping news of their dad’s death from them?” Sarah asked.
James must have picked up on what we were discussing. “She told me she wasn’t going to tell her kids about her husband’s death until after their son’s Little League event was over. She said she didn’t have the heart to ruin it for her kid, and feels as though her husband would have wanted it that way.”
“Aw, that breaks my heart,” Sarah said as she continued to watch the mother and son practice. “What a good mom.”
I nodded and stayed quiet as we crossed the street, the kid’s repeated taunts echoing off the surrounding walls.
I was about to ask James a question about the case when I noticed Bruce heading our way. “Here you go,” he said and handed a business card to each of us, as promised.
“Hey, Bruce,” I said. “Quick question. How tall is Jackson Cole?”
He gave me a strange look, but didn’t ask why I wanted to know. “I couldn’t tell you his exact height, but I’m just over five foot, nine, and he’s got at least an inch, inch and a half on me.”
“Thank you.”
Bruce bid us goodbye and disappeared inside the rec center.
“Another piece of the puzzle that fits,” Sarah said.
I nodded and asked James, “What did you find over at Robbie Kramer’s place?”
“A cranky old goat with an attitude,” he replied. “Guy who runs the place wouldn’t let me inside our vic’s apartment without a warrant.”
“Is her place inside that old, run-down complex with the green roof?” Sarah asked.
James smiled. “That’s the one.”
“Never a dull moment in our work,” I said while pointing at The Shallows building. “Million dollar condos over here, and we waltz right in for a look around the place. But, try to get inside some dilapidated dump over on the strip and you need to come up with a search warrant.”
James nodded. “Good times. Oh, before I forget. Sorry it took so long to get back to you on this, but you asked me for Kramer’s height. She was just a fraction of an inch under five foot, ten.”
We made our way over to our vehicles. I rested my backside against the trunk lid and jotted the information down. “Thanks. When do you think you’ll have some background on our boy Jackson Cole?”
“Let me call Luce back right now,” he said as he worked his cell then placed it on top of his cruiser’s roof.
“Thought I’d be hearing from you, Detective,” we heard Luce say on the other end of the call. “Jackson Cole, DOB June second, nineteen eighty-seven, thirty years of age. Cole was convicted of driving while intoxicated in his late teens. A few misdemeanors around the same time. That’s it. Not so much as a J-walking citation during his adult life. Still working on his whereabouts. You know how it goes. Nothing moves quickly when you’re trying to get information from the federal government.”
“Ain’t that the truth? Thanks, Luce. You’re a gem,” James said and ended the call. “Well, that’s that, for now.”
Sarah buried her face in her hands and moaned.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“I’m frustrated, that’s all. I had high hopes this Jacko guy was the scumbag we’ve been looking for.”
“He may well be. Let’s not forget, this guy’s in the military. He could be staying in his condo every night and we’d never know it. These guys are trained to be invisible when they need to be. If he’s in the city using his condo and knows we’re looking for him, I’m sure he knows enough not to leave any sign he’s been there.”
“I agree with Carter, Sarah. Until we find out exactly where Cole’s been over the past two weeks, he’s going to remain our number one suspect.”
Chapter 13
Sarah looked over at me as we waved to James and drove out of The Shallows Condo Club parking lot. “I have a request.”
“Shoot.”
“I know we’re really up against it with this investigation, the killer still at large and all, but I’m not ready to go home and grind it out, just yet. Mind if we go somewhere else? I have no problem brainstorming where we’re at with the case. It’s just … well, its summer, for crying out loud. I want to be outside.”
“Somewhere in particular you want to go?”
She sat in silence for a moment, then responded. “How about the beach?”
“I’m all for it. Question is, which one? We only have about twenty to choose from.”
“We don’t have to go far,” she said. “I just need to smell t
he salty air. Feel the sea breeze on my face. Watch the waves. It’ll help clear my head.”
“Sounds like Jenkin’s Beach would fulfill your requirements,” I said.
“Perfect. Thanks for indulging me.”
“No, it’s a great call. Exactly what I wanted to do, too. I just didn’t know it.”
Sarah began laughing. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Who said anything about making sense? This is me we’re talking about, here.”
Sarah reached over and grabbed my hand. “I feel lucky.”
“In a scratch ticket sort of way? There’s a convenience store right up ahead.”
“No, silly. Lucky that we have one another.”
“We are. I know I’ve said it before, but not many folks can have a successful relationship and work together, full-time, too.”
“Totally,” Sarah said. “I feel like I’ve come a long way from my massage therapy days.”
“You’ve got the scars to prove it.”
Sarah giggled. “Yeah. Don’t remind me.”
* * *
“This is nice,” Sarah said as I spread our blanket out across the sand. “I’m glad you came up with Jenkin’s Beach. I would never have thought of this place, but it’s so beautiful.”
“I like it because it’s small and uncrowded. You have to be a resident to park here, so it keeps the tourists away. Hard to find, too, if you’ve never been here before.”
Sarah let go a sigh of contentment. “The only thing we’re missing is a nice bottle of wine.”
“Whoa. I thought we came here to brainstorm the case?”
“We did,” she admitted. “On that note, I’m missing some key elements to convince me Jackson Cole should be our prime suspect. My brain can get to him harming Robbie Kramer, but what would his motive be to murder a married neighbor? Mark Cutter seems to have been a true-blue family man.”
“Family men have flings, affairs, mistresses. I’m not saying Cutter had any of those, necessarily, but I can’t say he didn’t, either.”
“I suppose. OK, what about Vincent Sprague? What reason would a thirty year old military guy have to end the life of a war veteran? If anything, someone like Cole would have a great deal of respect for Sprague’s background.”
“Someone like Cole? Sarah, we know nothing about this guy.”
“I’m not saying we do, but I’m at a loss for a motive where Sprague is concerned. From what I’ve gathered, he was harmless. Playing music and trying to get by. My point being, Cole and Sprague have their service to our country in common.”
“What if Cole suffers from PTSD, or has some other issues we’re unaware of? People do all sorts of strange things for reasons no one else can understand. It happens every day, all across our country.”
“So, you’re saying you think he did it. You think he killed three people in two weeks.”
I took a deep breath then waited a few seconds before responding. “I’m saying no such thing. I have a wait-and-see attitude about his involvement. There are too many unanswered questions dangling in the ether for me to feel strongly for or against Cole being our guy. Problem is, we’ve got no other prospects at the moment.”
“Shouldn’t we be talking to the other owners at The Shallows? See what they have to say about Cole? You said the construction was shoddy, and that it was easy to hear all the goings-on in the other units, right?”
“I did say that, and I don’t disagree. However, if Cole is overseas, and has been for the past two weeks, then interviewing his neighbors might amount to nothing more than spinning our wheels in vain.”
Sarah repositioned her body on the blanket and let the back of her head plunk up against my shoulder. “Do you think I’m impatient?”
“I think you’re passionate. I think you want results. Sometimes it makes sense to wait, that’s all.”
“Nice compliments, but you kind of sidestepped my question.”
“Do I think you’re impatient? Sometimes. But, who isn’t? We want what we want when we want it. The hardest part about being an investigator is knowing when to act, and when to sit on your hands. There’s a rhythm to what we do, part learned, part instinct. It takes time for that aspect of the job to become second nature.”
“How much time?”
I couldn’t see Sarah’s face, so it was tough to tell whether or not she was putting me on with the question. Either way, it struck me as being funny. I did my best not to let on, but Sarah felt me holding back my chuckles.
“Oh, you’re going to get it, Mister,” she said as she spun around to smack me.
I jumped up and ran off down the beach, Sarah in hot pursuit.
“You’d better run, you little bugger,” she screamed, causing more than a few fellow beach-goer’s to turn and stare. “You’re just lucky your legs are longer than mine.”
A younger couple began clapping and laughing as we ran past their beach chairs.
I circled around and ended my jaunt back where it began, Sarah effectively tackling me onto the blanket a few seconds later.
“Quitter,” she said as we both caught our breath.
“I had no choice. I’m no good to you in a hospital bed, recovering from a heart attack.”
Sarah fell back on the blanket and stared at the sky, laughing as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
I wiggled my way over and took her hand in mine, both of us now focused on nothing but the clear blue sky.
“Thank you for indulging me,” she said. “I needed this. All of it. The laughter. The pep-talk. The thinking-out-loud.”
“Yep. I think I needed it, too.”
Chapter 14
“I can’t believe we sat there on that blanket as long as we did,” Sarah said as we walked inside the house after returning from the beach. “Do you realize it’s almost eight-thirty?”
“Time well spent.”
“It was wonderful. I feel like my batteries are all charged up again.”
“Bet you won’t forget about Jenkin’s Beach next time you’re looking for a place to hang-out,” I said.
“I won’t. In fact, it’s my new favorite place.”
“Pretty high praise.”
“I loved every single thing about it … well, except for all the grains of beach sand that hitched a ride home in places they don’t belong. I’m going upstairs to take a bath.”
I gave her a wave and went for the refrigerator. An ice cold beer was in order after the long day we’d had. I popped the top and took a few sips while checking my cell phone for messages. I’d hoped to hear from Detective James by now with some definitive news on prime suspect Jackson Cole’s whereabouts.
Nothing.
I decided to do a little digging on my own in order to learn more about our boy Cole, so I headed for the comfort of my office. I walked in, planted my butt firmly in my leather armchair, and got busy.
It took exactly six seconds to find out this guy was no joke.
Cole referred to himself as a first team trooper, which wouldn’t mean much to the average layman, but I’d known enough ex-military types to realize he was a member of the Army’s First Cavalry Division. Another few seconds of poking around and I’d learned he’d spent two tours of duty in Afghanistan.
I plugged his full name into one of the prominent social media sites and there he was, wearing full combat gear and holding one heck of a menacing weapon. Below the photograph: Scheduled troop rotation confirmed. I’m finally heading home. The post was dated June 2nd.
Over a month ago.
I popped up out of my chair on pure instinct, intent on bringing Sarah up to speed right away. I hustled off, but my movement across the office toward the hall slowed until I came to a stop at the base of the stairs. Sarah was relaxing in the tub after a challenging day. Might just as well let her enjoy a little peace. Giving her the news now versus an hour from now wasn’t going to change the course of this investigation one iota.
I turned heel and headed back into my offic
e, wondering why Luce at the police department hadn’t used a similar search technique to find this critical information on Cole. Seemed pretty obvious to me.
Guess that’s why we got paid the big bucks.
If only it were as easy to pinpoint Cole’s whereabouts right now.
I got myself comfortable and thought about our next move.
* * *
My eyes popped wide open, confused as to whether I’d dreamt the jarring disturbance, or an explosion in our area had actually just taken place.
The rapid pounding of hurried footsteps coming down the stairs told me it was likely the latter.
I sat up from my sprawled-out position on the couch and reached for my cell phone. 4:35 am.
“What on earth happened?” Sarah asked, her messy hair and tired eyes telling me her sleep had been disrupted, too.
“No idea, but it shook the whole neighborhood.”
“I’m going out to the front yard. Maybe we’ll be able to see or hear something.”
I nodded. “I’ve got to take a major whiz. Be out after.”
I heard the fire station’s alert horn blaring as soon as I stepped into the john, multiple sirens firing up in the distance. Whatever had caused that sleep-busting noise was serious enough to require emergency personnel to be dispatched from surrounding towns.
I finished up and headed for the front door when Sarah appeared in the doorway. “Did you hear all of that?”
“I did.”
“The sky is abnormally bright over toward the northwest corner of the city. Do you suppose something blew up at one of the oil storage terminals up the river?”
“Hm. I’m no authority on the subject, but I think we would have heard a much bigger boom if one of those places went up. Plus, the safeguards built into Bridgeport’s shipping facilities are no joke. My guess is the explosion was caused by an automobile accident, or a mishap more along those lines.”
“Well … it sounded bad. It actually rattled the windows in the bedroom. Not that you’d know that.”
“Yep. Zonked out on the couch yet again.”
