by James Green
He stopped. It sounded a little farfetched, but no crazier than him crawling into a storm sewer and digging it out in the middle of the night.
“This next part is extremely important,” Burke said, slowing down so she would hear the extra emphasis in his voice. He waited for her to make eye contact before he began.
“You cannot hand this over to KCPD. If you do, it will disappear into their evidence room, never to be seen again. You need to take it to an independent lab and get DNA samples from it. That lab will find Vithous’ blood, hair and skin are on it. I’m willing to bet the lab will find Pete Knaak’s fingerprints on it too. Find the best independent lab in the country. Do not skimp on this.”
“Ok, that shouldn’t be a problem,” she said as she nodded.
“I am deadly serious about this,” Burke said. “If you don’t remember anything else I say, remember this.”
He paused and watched her write. She wrote ‘independent lab’ and then underlined it three times.
“Then and only then you need to turn it in to the FBI or the highway patrol. Once that’s done, and not a moment before, you let Chief Williams know that you have the murder weapon.”
“Where do I tell him I got it?”
“Tell him you got it from an anonymous source. But, this is important too, tell him you didn’t get this from your anonymous source until Monday –two days from now, ok?” Burke stared directly into her eyes to let her know he was dead serious.
“Why the delay?” Edwards asked. “I’m not comfortable with holding back information.”
“Because, if Williams finds out you got this while I am still in town, he’s going to suspect me,” Burke replied. “Granted, at the moment he doesn’t know that the murder weapon can be found, but he’s smart and he’ll put two and two together.”
The sun had risen fully. The purplish hues of the morning had been replaced by a beautiful blue sky, without a cloud to be found. It was going to be a wonderful day for most of Kansas City.
“Where will you be on Monday?” Bethany asked.
Burke shrugged.
“A long way from here, and I’m not taking my phones or computers, so you won’t be able to reach me for at least two weeks. I want it to look like I had nothing to do with this. I want Williams to think he just had some really bad luck.”
They went over everything again, point by point. Burke wanted to be sure, had to be certain that she got all the points right. That she wouldn’t turn it over to KCPD, and she wouldn’t ever reveal her source.
“This story most likely is going to end Chief Williams’ career,” Bethany remarked, “and will do real damage to Mayor Hughes.”
“So be it,” Burke said. “You should be happy, this will be the best story you’ve ever written.”
“No doubt, Sergeant,” Edwards replied, “Thank you for trusting me.”
Burke had her drop him off a couple blocks away from his apartment. He showered and ate some oatmeal for breakfast. He then scrounged through his closet until he found his favorite green t-shirt and put it on.
He was running late, but there was still time. He knew which roads would be open, which ones would be blocked off. He cut through the Valentine neighborhood, and squeezed his car into a tight parking space only two blocks from Broadway. The pre-parade party was well underway. A throng of young partiers were out in full force. Head to toe green, utilizing a beer bong to get their buzz on faster.
Burke was walking fast. He didn’t want to be late; he cut across a couple of yards, through a used-car dealership until he reached Broadway. He first saw the convertible, then the sign Mayor Jane Hughes and then the lady herself. She wasn’t looking at him, instead she was waving to a group of school children who shouted out her name and waved frantically. Burke used the opportunity to tuck his head down, make a hard pivot to his right and push himself into the crowd so no one would notice it was him. He didn’t think anyone had, but he couldn’t be sure.
He found the family float five blocks down from the Mayor’s convertible and the start of the parade. To get there, he ran a gauntlet through drunken college boys, families, drill teams and bands. What should have taken him less than a minute had taken ten. Finally, he saw his mother, his sister Megan, Aunt Helen and Uncle Terry. The whole crew. Bobby and Lisa, too.
“Your morning beverage, sir,” Bobby said, handing him a can of Guinness. He was using a rolling cooler as a seat.
“You are a good man, Bobby Sullivan. I cannot tell you how much I needed this this morning.” Burke drained almost half of it in one swig.
Bobby knocked on the cooler between his legs.
“More where that came from,” Bobby winked. “Want to pretend we are young again?”
Before he could answer, he felt a strong tug on his arm.
“Tommy, you came!” He felt a large hug from behind him, and a big kiss on his cheek.
“Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Mom!”
“Now it’s a happy,” Mary Burke said, hugging him and then Megan, “I got my kids here, my nieces and nephews, feels like old times.”
“I’m glad to be here, Mom,” Burke said, “it’s nice to be around people who love you.” He took several minutes talking to his other family members. Some he had not seen since the last St. Patrick’s Day. It was nice not to think about murders, shady deals or betrayal. The levity of the day gave him a surge of energy he had not expected.
“Heard your case is over,” Bobby said.
“Oh yeah?” Burke said, as the float started to move. Bobby and Tom hopped aboard.
“So a junkie killed John Vithous?” Bobby asked as they pulled onto Broadway. The crowd was at least ten people deep on each side. Cheering, screaming, and clapping. A sea of green opened up to them.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Tom replied. “But I have a feeling things will sort themselves out in the next few days.”
“Really?” Bobby said, sounding suspicious. “You up to something, Sergeant Burke?”
“Not me,” Burke said, draining his beer and grabbing another, “I’m on vacation. I don’t know a fucking thing.”
The float headed south, away from midtown, toward Westport. Burke enjoyed as much as anyone could, considering the circumstances. For the first time in over a week, he relaxed.
“You going to see Dad today?” Megan yelled in his ear.
Burke shook his head no.
“Have to go sign some papers before grabbing a plane.”
“Papers, plane?” Megan asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Sold the house,” Burke shouted in his sister’s ear. “And the plane is taking me far away from here. Starting a new chapter in my life.”
Two hours later, he was sitting five miles away in an empty realty office building. He was late, but Seth had waited for him. Burke walked past a slew of empty cubicles -- all dark. One the wall he saw a whiteboard with a list of sold properties. Four rows down, he recognized a specific address he called home for so many years.
West offered Burke a chair, then left to make copies. Burke was antsy. He wanted to get on the road and be as far away from Kansas City the second the shit hit the fan. Without a cell phone, Tom couldn’t make a phone call or read any emails. He wasn’t used to be this disconnected to things and he didn’t like it.
West appeared a few minutes later, apologizing for the delay. He sat down in front of Burke and began to go over the documents. Burke nodded as though he was listening, but in reality it was all white noise to him. Burke signed as quickly as possible, barely reading what he was signing. The only thing that stood out to him was Julie’s signature. Over and over again, it read ‘Julie Thompson’. Her maiden name, in her perfect handwriting. Burke didn’t know why it bothered him; he just knew that it did. He signed right below her signature. Thomas Burke. The “T” and the “B” being the only legible letters.
He asked Seth to call him a cab and declined Seth’s offer to wait inside. He wanted to be there the moment the cab arrived. It took a
lmost forty-five minutes to show; Burke climbed in, with only one bag and said simply “KCI”. It was time to take Captain Michaels’ advice and disappear for a while.
***
