The Cleansing

by Shane Crosby

  “Nah, nah, another situation I heard about. I was just checking up on it, that’s all.”

  “Hey, don’t be bringing us any more mysteries. We got enough.”

  “Yeah, don’t I know it.”

  Don Cole calling...

  “Alvarez.”

  “What’s the haps little brother?”

  “Same old. What’s the word over there? Did my DNA match? You calling to tell me I was right?”

  “I am indeed.”

  “I told you.”

  “I haven’t questioned the husband. He’s on deployment somewhere.”

  “You need to get him back there.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “When you going to get him back to the base?”

  “Sending some officers over there to meet with him. I’ll let you know what they find.”

  “Okay, make sure you call me immediately following that interview.”

  “I know you want to do it yourself, don’t you?”

  “You know I do. I miss the military, but I don’t miss the politics.”

  “I hear you. Don’t fret baby brother, I’ll make sure things are handle properly.”

  “Hey Don, you know of anything going on in your ranks a little weird?”

  “Just the usual weird for Uncle Sam. You got something on your mind?”

  “Any type of military unauthorized action or something you might know about?”

  “Not right at this moment. Something wrong little brother?”

  “Got this case. I received some information referencing the military. I thought maybe you’d run across something odd.”

  “You’re being vague.”

  “I don’t have much, that’s all I got. I can’t explain it any better.”

  “Hmmm, okay, for something weird that I haven’t heard of yet, that will fall within Jared and Dub categories. They orchestrate weird stuff and then we’ll find out about it and the public will remain in the dark.”

  “Right, right. It’s hard to get in touch with Dub. Jared, I’d like to keep him out of it.”

  “Yeah, they less they know about his family or if he even has one the better.”

  “Right. I’ll try to get Dub. See if he’s orchestrating anything.”

  “Yeah, I’d do that.”

  “Okay, let me know what’s up with our guy.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  (Click)

  THE NEXT MORNING

  UP ALL NIGHT

  PRECINCT

  Trevor

  I found myself so caught up in this case when I looked up I could see the sun’s rays peeking out from behind the clouds. She’s waking up the city, well some of us. Apparently, I’ve been at the station all night trying to get every little detail together. I wanted to make certain I had every “i” dotted and “t” crossed. After an all nighter, I still feel like I’ve probably missed something. This case is slowly taking over my life. I hear the old timers talking about cases they couldn’t solve. The ones they keep notes on at home. They still go over them twenty, thirty years later. It prevents them from retiring, sleeping, being a great dad and husband or grandparent. It keeps them up at night and consumes their thoughts during the day. I don’t want turn into Captain Ahab about this case. I must admit; I’m afraid I’m losing that fight.

  So they won’t forget who I am, I rushed home to spend a few moments with the family. I grabbed my coat; hat scarf ran out the door so I could hurry and get home. I had just enough time to shower, grab a biscuit kiss the wife hug my kids and out the door again. I wanted to get back to the station so I could go over what I was going to say during my meeting with Judge Brussard. Usually, you have to jump through hoops and climb up the highest mountain to get a warrant, but you know the saying, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know? That saying applies here. The judge is an ex-Navy man. He served in the same unit with my dad. They were SEALS. They fought and retired together. He’s my Godfather. And, I’m counting on nostalgia to get uncle Frank to sign this warrant. After all, I am his favorite. I can’t help but smile when I think about that. Uncle Frank didn’t have any kids. So, my five brothers and I were like his sons. When we were younger, we all believed we were his favorite. That would cause a war amongst us boys arguing about which one was Uncle Frank’s favorite. As we got older, we realized that whenever we asked him who was his favorite, his answer was the same for all of us, “You are. You’re my favorite. Shhhh, we have to keep it a secret from the others. We don’t want to hurt their feelings.” I would smile and he would hug me and send me on my way back to play. Those times were the greatest. Now, I need Uncle Frank to channel MJ and remember those times.

  On the way to my uncle’s office, I rehearsed what I was going to say to Uncle Frank. This morning, this drive doesn’t appear to be as long as it normally is. The traffic was light, no accidents, and no calls to stop and investigate, all was clear. It was like the universe was making sure nothing impeded my efforts to go see my uncle. It always happens that way when you want to avoid something.

  I arrived in front of the courthouse. Usually, there’s no place to park. Downtown is congested. You have to maneuver the one way streets to get on the right side of the building you want to go into. It’s all equals a pain in the butt. However, this morning, just like the drive over, all was clear and I pulled right up in front of a parking meter. Nervous, I sat in the car for several minutes before I finally worked up enough courage to make my legs move and get out of the car. I walked in the building and greeted everyone. They gave me broad smiles back in return. I turned the corner to go to the elevators. When I reached the bank of elevators that takes you to the judge’s chambers, I couldn’t go any further. I guess my petrified forest routine went on a little longer than it should have because one of the guys walked by and asked me if I was all right. I reassured him I was and pushed the button. Wouldn’t you know it, the car was sitting there waiting on me to push that damn button. The doors opened right up. I couldn’t make any more excuses; I had to face the music. I got in and pressed the button to my uncle’s floor. When the elevator stopped and the doors opened up, I hesitated too long and the doors closed. I pushed the button really quickly to open them again, this time; I got off and started to walk down the hall. My legs felt like they were rubber, but I kept going. I approached the door and stood there for what seemed liked forever. The footsteps of someone walking by woke me from my trance and I nervously knocked on the door. I heard my Uncle’s voice booming from inside.

  “Who’s disturbing me?”

  I turned the knob and pushed the door open slightly.

  “I didn’t say come in!”

  I opened the door just enough to put my head through the crack.

  “Hey Uncle Frank! It’s me.”

  I could see him look up from his desk with a discerning expression on his immaculately groomed face.

  “Who’s that calling me uncle?”

  I opened the door wider so I could get more of my body inside the door half in and half out. I announced myself again.

  “It’s me Uncle Frank.”

  There was a big smile that came across his face. Whew! I thought. Glad he’s happy to see me.

  “Is that my favorite nephew?”

  “Yes, it is. It’s me Trevor.”

  “Boy! I know who the hell you are.”

  He got up from his desk.

  “I’m not blind.”

  I smiled so wide at seeing my uncle.

  “Yes sir. I know.”

  I entered my uncle’s office with the apprehension I had when I was a kid and my brothers and I got caught throwing rocks at cars off the Dan Ryan. Today, I hadn’t done anything wrong, but my uncle was a hard man, like my dad. They were military born and bred. They commanded respect and obedience. To exhibit behavior that was anything less was unacceptable and to us it seemed punishable by death. Now, I can laugh at the thought of that, but when we were kids, those expectations seemed unachievable and intimidating. T
hey looked larger than life when we were kids and though I’m grown now, I still feel like that little boy standing there looking up at my uncle hoping I could get him to see it my way.

  Uncle Frank was about six feet tall. His hair had some grey in it throughout and so did his beard. He used to conduct SEAL training classes so he had a commanding presence and voice. When he spoke in the courtroom, his voice alone demanded your attention and respect. He never raised his voice when we were kids and doesn’t now. He always kept a cropped hair cut got his beard and mustache trimmed and shaped every week. There was never a thread sticking out or hair out of place on my Uncle. His appearance was important. He always told us dress and look where you want to go not where you are at the moment.

  He has that middle aged spread a little. His mid-section is sticking out a bit more each time I see him. I always tell him that judge’s diet is ruining his figure. You know the high ranking official diet full of creams, rich sauces and chef prepared deserts, the best cut T-bone steaks, lobster, fine wines and expensive Liquor. Whatever it is Uncle Frank; it’s wreaking havoc on your waistline. But, I’ll keep that little tidbit of information to myself.

  “Boy, what are you snickering about?”

  “Oh, Nothing Unc, how’s it going?”

  We embraced as if we hadn’t seen each other in years. When actually, we see each other a couple of times a week.

  “Why haven’t you called me to go fishing? I talked to those brothers of yours gallivanting all over God’s creation at the expense of the United States military. And, the other one is a spy some damn where. Whoever heard of such?”

  “They’re doing their job, Unc. They protect this country like we did; just their job is a little different.”

  “What? They’re not doing anything but playing around. Now when you’re a SEAL you have a job to do and you have to do it right the first time. We’re not there to vacation. We’re there to kick some ass and don’t care about the names.”

  “You’re right about that. I remember that fondly, miss it, too. You and dad, always reminiscing about being SEALS.”

  “I think we did a pretty good job when we were tasked with protecting this country.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Now to what do I owe this visit from my favorite boy? I heard you’ve been dealing with some murders.”

  “Yes, we have. It’s looking bad out there, too. Missing women, dead bodies dumped all over Gochian. They’re dumping them so fast; it’s hard to keep up.”

  “Oh? Well what is the Captain down there doing about getting more people out on the streets and investigating these murders so we can get them solved quickly?”

  “Well, sir, it’s not that easy. They’re cutting the heads and hands off so we can’t identify them. We haven’t established an MO. We’re really working at a disadvantage. I hate to say it, but they’re ahead of us on this thing.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s the was it is sometimes with homicide. You can’t know what every crazy is thinking before they do it.”

  “I know it, but I always feel badly when I’m called to a scene.”

  “Don’t. Leave that up to God. He created those damn fools.”

  “I know you wouldn’t be talking like that if aunt Penelope was in this room.”

  “I would, but under my breath.”

  I smiled and so did he. My aunt was just as spiritual as my mother. God wasn’t a topic they joked about.

  “I tell you this damn world is going crazy. The generations are getting worse and worse. If these crazy ass kids are our future I hope I’ll be dead before I see them take over.”

  “When I was a kid I wouldn’t agree, but now with a few years under my belt, I’m with you on that one.”

  “Your aunt wants to know why you didn’t come for dinner Sunday. I told her you had a lot going on in the city, but you know how women are. I know you had a legitimate reason, but you’ll have to square it with her.”

  “I have to come over this week to see her. I know she’s upset.”

  “Yes, very. You better do it this week don’t let the week go by without taking care of it. Enough of that go on and tell me why you really came up here. You want a warrant, right? With no damn evidence to back it up, did I guess, that right?”

  “It’s something like that, but I have a good cause.”

  “I doubt that, but I’m listening. I was looking for you to come sooner. I hope the delay means you do actually have a valid legal basis for this warrant.”

  I gave him my best, I love you uncle smile took a deep breath and started presenting my case.

  “You’re well aware of how many bodies we’ve had dumped. Of the ones in my jurisdiction, I have a gut feeling the owner of Club Hedonist knows my second murdered girl, if not all of them. One is married to a soldier in Germany. I don’t know how she arrived. She’s not registered on any plane going or coming but ended up dumped here.”

  “What do you mean, knows her? How in the hell is she not on any plane, but ended up dead here? Are you telling me she rode a bike all the way to Gochian? What’s the link to the club?”

  “I have a witness who saw her there. The fourth victim found we believe was the first murdered. Her murder was different. She was shot twice in the back, then beheaded and hands removed.”

  “The second victim, you’re positive she was there working and not just hanging out?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know?”

  “After the press conference, a call was forwarded to me from central. It was a woman who said she knew the victim. She saw her at Club Hedonist and provided a name for the victim.”

  “You got a random call from someone in the middle of the night after you had a press conference. You know as well as I do people come out of the woodwork after press conferences and rewards. Some just want to get attention. She said she saw her there, but did she see her working? You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  I started to squirm in those full grain plush leather chairs he has in his office. They suddenly weren’t so comfortable. I was shrinking smaller and smaller and the chair started to swallow me. Now I’m back to the eight-year old boy explaining why I shouldn’t be punished for hitting Jennifer Jones in the nose.

  “Uncle Frank, Listen. My partner and I went to question her. She definitely made contact with the victim at Club Hedonist. She confirmed she encountered her working there. She wasn’t just hanging out and that wasn’t the only encounter. We went there to ask questions. The witness was there. They came into the rooms where they were and told everyone to leave because the police was there asking questions.”

  “Hmmm, are you sure it was when you were there? With a club like this, it could’ve been any police officers questioning them. How will she fare on the stand? Is she a good witness to use on the stand?”

  “She had a napkin the victim wrote her name on asking for help. She identified a tattoo she has. Don’t ask me to explain how she saw the tattoo. I’d be too embarrassed. And, no, she probably wouldn’t make a good witness. She has an image that jurors judge, if you know what I mean? And, the way this club is laid out, a visit from the police is bad for the image they’re trying to maintain.”

  “How do you know your murdered girl wrote that? And, yes, I do. What is she a hooker or something? Drug addict? Freak? Hooker freak?”

  “Uncle Frank, obviously, I don’t. She’s dead so I can’t ask her. She looks like a freak and if she describes how she met her.....Okay, she’s a freak.”

  “Right, you can’t. You’re prepared to go on the word of some random Hooker?”

  “We do it all of the time. Police have informants throughout their career. A lot of the times it’s the informant that helps crack the case. She’s not a hooker. She is on the wild side of freak though.”

  “Understood, but this isn’t someone you’ve worked with before. Either way, it’ll be difficult to get the jury to connect with her. If your defendant is a law-abiding citizen, they’ll tak
e his side as truth just based upon his appearance within the community.”

  “True. But, we spoke to her and I believe her. I went to the club and they were sketchy with their story. I’m telling you, I can feel it in my gut. They’re hiding something.”

  “Son, you’re a police officer. You should be used to people lying to you. It’s suspicious, yes, but not exactly grounds for a warrant. The fact that she works there and that hasn’t really been established doesn’t mean they killed her. You can’t go searching every business just because someone who died might have worked there.”

  “Yes. I’m used to the lying and trust me they certainly were. Uncle Frank, I know they’re hiding something.”

  “People hide stuff from the police all the time, doesn’t mean they committed murder. Unless there’s some illegal activity going on there that you witnessed or have some concrete evidence in some capacity, your warrant is dead in the water.”

  “Unc, I know it seems weak, but this girl was murdered and dumped like she was less than a piece of trash. These Russian club owners are all mobbed up. Everyone knows they’re involved in criminal activity.”

  “I understand that, son. But, you’re not supposed to use a warrant on a fishing expedition. You’re supposed to have concrete evidence of a crime and the warrant is to just add supporting bad acts to seal the deal. You don’t have any actual proof that they knew her or that she worked there or was even there at all.”

  “Uncle Frank! You’re killing me with this! After we went to the club the first time and asked if they were missing any workers, the next victim shows up decapitated with her hands cut off. And, then I get a call from a witness who places the girl there. They have something to do with this case. I know it.”

  “Trevor, a man with a grey goatee robbed a bank. I’m a man with a grey goatee. Someone called and said they saw me in the bank. The police wouldn’t have any reason to get a warrant to search anything I had or have. Yes, this too is suspicious, but any good attorney could explain away this coincidence nothing more. Unless someone saw me with a gun standing there robbing the bank they couldn’t do a damn thing with that. And, even if someone said they saw me with a gun, a good attorney could tear their eyewitness account to pieces. You’ve seen it done before. Hell, I’ve done it before.”