JACK AND THE GIANT KILLER

by Christopher Greyson

  He was halfway down the stairs when she called out, “I’ll bring a pot pie later.”

  Jack’s smile vanished when he reached the parking lot and saw the Charger. The windshield was spiderwebbed; deep scratches ran along the sides of the car. He walked around and inspected the damage. When he saw the front end, he winced. At least the bumper took the worst of it. A new windshield and another paint job should be all she needs. He patted the Charger’s hood before he went over and jumped into the Bug.

  As Jack zipped down the street in the little car, he slid lower in the seat. Compared to the Charger, he felt as if he were driving a go-cart. He could picture Replacement sitting there, driving. She had so much energy. She would be bouncing around as she listened to her pop music. He pushed the gas pedal down and rolled his eyes as the small engine revved up. The car was a perfect match for Replacement, but he couldn’t wait to get the Charger fixed.

  It was a short ride to the ME’s office. As he pulled into a parking space, he saw Bob Morrison pace back and forth, speaking animatedly into the phone. Morrison saw him walking toward him, waved, and motioned for Jack to keep going.

  Jack started to walk toward the office until he caught bits and pieces of the conversation: golf course, fairway, police cruiser. He cringed.

  Morrison put the phone in his pocket and then glared at the sky.

  “Everything all right, sir?” Jack asked.

  “Murphy.” Morrison spit the name.

  Murphy had been a constant irritant to Jack when he was on the force, and he wouldn’t be sorry to see him get his comeuppance, but Jack wasn’t the type of man to let anyone, even an enemy, take the fall for him.

  “What do you think Billy did now?” Jack asked.

  “Someone tore the hell out of the Pine Creek golf course last night,” Morrison started to explain. “They drove across the whole course. Tore up the fairway, a green, and busted two gates. We just got a call from someone reporting they saw a cruiser out there.”

  Jack scoffed. “A cruiser? Come on. I mean, Murphy’s a moron, but he wouldn’t be dumb enough to do that. It must have been another really stupid guy.”

  Morrison waved his hand and popped two sticks of gum in his mouth. “It was him. The witness was Tom Norris. Retired cop. He was on the job a few years back. His house is on the edge of the course, and he said he clearly saw the car. It was just an outline because it was pitch black, but he said he’s positive it was a Charger. That’s it. Murphy’s done.”

  Jack cleared his throat. “Sir, you can’t discipline Murphy.”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Jack.” He locked his car, hiked up his pants, and walked toward the building. “It’s admirable you’re trying to defend him. I know you and he didn’t exactly get along.”

  “That’s true, sir, but you really can’t discipline Murphy.”

  Morrison stopped and glared at Jack. “Listen, Jack. I don’t care if he’s the county commissioner’s son-in-law. He took a police cruiser and tore up a private golf course.” Morrison’s head swiveled back and forth as he looked at the cars in the parking lot. “Where’s your car? Did you drive that blue Bug?” His smile slowly faded, and he started to chew his gum faster.

  Jack leaned in. “You got an extra piece of gum?” He crookedly smiled.

  Morrison handed Jack a stick of gum and rubbed the back of his head with his other hand. “You drive a Charger. All black.” He looked up at the sky. “And this morning you’re driving a little blue Bug.” He turned to Jack and inhaled deeply.

  Jack’s hand shot up and he quickly said, “My mom always told me not to ask questions I didn’t want to hear the answer to. I didn’t really understand what that meant, but I do now. I think you should listen to my mom and not ask.”

  Morrison pointed at Jack with a shaking index finger. “You know…my mom told me to stay the hell away from kids like you.”

  Jack’s hands went out and his shoulders went up.

  “Don’t give me that look, Stratton.” Morrison groaned. “Great. I’ve been around you for a week, and I’m already starting to sound like Sheriff Collins. What happened?”

  “Sir, seriously, I don’t think you want to know.”

  Morrison’s face became even sterner. “You didn’t think I should know about those interviews either. The ones on TV with the victims’ families.”

  “I planned to tell you about that, afterward.”

  “Afterward doesn’t do me a lot of good,” Morrison snarled.

  “Actually, I hope it does.” Jack squared his shoulders. “At least it gives you some deniability. No offense, sir, but Collins is still running the show. You’re covering. When he comes back, who the hell knows what decisions he will or won’t agree with. Right now you can put me straight under the bus.” Jack smiled. “Collins will have no problem running me over a few times.”

  Morrison chuckled. “You know the rock and a hard place I’m stuck between. I won’t ask about the golf course except…should I not look into it?”

  Jack shook his head. “Please don’t. I’m sure whoever did it will try to pay for the damages—anonymously.”

  Ed Castillo’s convertible swung into the parking lot. He jumped out with a big smile on his face. “You boys didn’t have to wait for me.” He laughed.

  Morrison didn’t.

  Castillo’s brow knit together. “What?” He shrugged.

  Morrison’s phone beeped. “It’s the mayor,” Morrison muttered as he walked away.

  Castillo rolled his eyes as he walked over to Jack. “Bobby sure has a bug in his butt this morning. What did I do? Is it because I said boy? I heard he’s race sensitive.”

  Jack’s hand balled into a fist and he shifted his weight to his back leg. “Ed—”

  “Come on. I didn’t mean anything. I was—”

  “Ed, I’m only going to say this once. You call him Undersheriff or Sir. You call him anything else and I’ll smack the crap out of you.” Jack got nose to nose with Castillo. “You’re new, so I won’t break your nose for that comment about race. You don’t have a right to know, but I could give a rat’s ass what you heard. If you want to know the truth, Morrison was the stand-up guy in that situation. He’s the one who was right, and it’s still costing him, but he had the guts to say something. When you get to know what kind of man he is, I hope you have enough backbone to go back to whoever told you that lie and set them straight. I doubt you will, though.”

  Jack leaned back as Morrison put his phone in his pocket and walked back to them. Castillo kept his eyes focused on the notebook in his hand, and Morrison looked quizzically at Jack.

  “Everything fine at the mayor’s office?” Jack asked.

  “She wants Castillo and me over there after we’re done here. I’m sure you’ll be getting a call soon.”

  The three of them walked for the building again. Jack walked next to Morrison and Castillo walked behind. Once inside, they headed downstairs for the ME’s office. They expected Neil Fredrick to be there, but Mei held the door open for them instead.

  “Neil’s still at the state, but he sent me the report.” She nodded as each one of them passed.

  “Mei, please tell me he’s got something that’ll help.” Morrison followed her into a little office.

  “I do have a lot of information, Undersheriff. I hope it’ll be helpful,” she said.

  Mei had laid crime scene and lab photos out on a long table. Next to each photograph, she placed a typed white card. She handed all three their own matching folder of the reports.

  “Most of the new information concerns Daniel Branson. The cause of death was a stab wound that punctured his heart. He was stabbed seven times.”

  “Seven?” Castillo juggled his books and scribbled in his notebook.

  If he brings up the fairy tale again, I’m going to smack him.

  “Yes.” Mei opened her report. “The blood on the trash bag—both inside and out—belonged to Branson. There were three different hairs found: one dog and two cats.
”

  “Can they tell the kind?” Castillo asked.

  “A collie,” Mei said.

  Castillo frowned. “Branson, Davis, and Barnes all owned huge dogs.”

  “There still could be a connection there,” Morrison said. “Maybe the killer hates big dogs, and he has a small one himself. You said the other hairs were cat?”

  Mei read down the list. “Two Polydactyls.”

  Morrison tilted his head. “Polydactyl?”

  “Sorry.” Mei cleared her throat. “Two American Polydactyls. Cats. They suffered from hyperdactyly.”

  The three men all shrugged.

  “The cats would have had extra toes. They’re more common on the East Coast. Cats typically have eighteen toes but these cats may have had more.”

  “How many more?” Castillo asked.

  “There’s no way of knowing without the cats, I’d imagine.” Mei tapped the folder.

  Castillo took out his phone. “How do you spell that? Poly-whatever?”

  “P-o-l-y-d-a-c-t-y-l-s.” Mei spelled it out.

  Morrison huffed. “Did they say how he was dismembered?”

  “Saw. I listed the details on page twenty-two,” Mei said. “The torso was then wiped down with bleach.”

  “Organized killer.” Castillo typed into his phone. “He’s trying to hide the trace evidence.” He looked at his phone and read from it. “They’re Hemmingway cats. The author, Ernest Hemingway, was fond of six-toed cats. Six toes.” He slowly nodded and looked at Morrison.

  “You’re looking at me like I should be following what you’re thinking, Ed.” Morrison cracked his gum. “But I’m not. You want to connect the dots?”

  “Okay.” Castillo put down his folder, stepped back, and held up his hands. “Branson was an author, right?”

  Jack tilted his head slightly. “He was a poet.”

  “That’s like an author.” Castillo waved his hand as if he were shooing away a bug. “Hemmingway was an author who liked six-toed cats. Maybe Branson had an author friend that’s like a Hemmingway wannabe. I mean, how many of these cats can there be around?”

  “They’re fairly common,” Mei said.

  Castillo grimaced. “I’m not saying it is,” he picked his folder up, “but it’s something we should keep in mind.”

  Morrison rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Mayor Lewis wants to talk to us once we leave here. Do not bring that theory up.”

  “At all?”

  “Don’t bring it up.”

  Mei cleared her throat. “There’s something else that’s very odd about the torso.” All three men looked at her as she seemed to struggle for the right words. “The front of the torso was very flat and rigid—hard to the touch. At first they thought it was caused by the body decaying at a particular spot. After further analysis, it would appear the reason would have to be a quick searing and then the body was left on a flat surface for some length of time.”

  “Whoa.” Castillo held up his hand. “Back up. Searing?”

  “Yes.” Mei nodded.

  “Searing as in cooking?” Castillo’s voice went up.

  “Yes, but the report states the torso was only partially seared. It doesn’t appear it was exposed to extensive heat for a considerable time due to the depth of the heat effect.”

  Morrison shook his head. “Mei. Do they think someone started trying to cook the body?”

  Mei shrugged. “I can only relate what’s in the report.”

  “You’re doing great, Mei.” Jack lowered his voice. “Was the body burned?”

  “No. There was no exposure to direct flame. There is also no evidence of any accelerant being used.”

  “Are we dealing with another Dahmer?” Castillo asked. “A cannibal?”

  “Slow down, Ed.” Morrison popped two more sticks of gum in his mouth. “Crap. Why else would you start cooking someone?”

  “But why’d he stop?” Jack asked.

  “Maybe he cooked the other parts first?” Castillo paced. “Maybe that’s why we can’t find them. In the fairy tales, that’s what the giants did, right? They ate people.”

  “Hold up, Ed.” Jack turned back to Mei. “Do they have a time frame for the rest of the data, Mei?”

  “Soon?” Her lips pressed together.

  Morrison cursed under his breath. “Ed, has anything else come up on the tip line?”

  Castillo shook his head. “No. I canvassed Davis’s, Branson’s, and Freeman’s neighborhoods. One thing they all have in common is they don’t have any enemies. Everyone I talked to says they were the nicest guys in the world.” He turned to the back of his notebook and pointed. He circled the words “Gentle Giant” and close to a dozen hash marks were next to it. “You talk to ten people that knew them, nine will say that. The tenth guy will still say something nice about them.”

  “We’ve got to meet the mayor. Mei, can you reach out to Neil and get me everything he has about that searing? I need everything about it.”

  “There’s specific detail on page thirty-four, but it gets somewhat technical. I’ll go right now and call him, Undersheriff.”

  “Thank you, Mei.” Morrison nodded his head. “Let’s all read over these reports and meet back at the station. Is that doable for you, Jack?”

  “That’s fine, sir.”

  “Tomorrow morning work? Nine?” Morrison asked. When everyone nodded, Morrison headed for the door and held it open. “Let’s go speak with Mayor Lewis, Ed.”

  When they all got to the parking lot, Castillo grabbed Jack by the wrist as Morrison headed for his car.

  “Can I talk to you?” Castillo let go when he saw the expression on Jack’s face. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. It was wrong what I said about Undersheriff Morrison.”

  Jack searched his eyes. Ed shifted uncomfortably, but held his gaze.

  “Accepted. Give Morrison a chance. He’s a good man.”

  The corner of Castillo’s mouth turned up, and Jack scowled. Castillo held up a hand and shook his head as he took a step back. “Dial it back, Jack. It’s just I heard a bunch of different stuff about you when I came here, and when you showed up at the Branson crime scene, I said something about you to Morrison.” He chuckled and walked away.

  “And?” Jack called after him.

  Castillo stopped at his car door. “Morrison told me to give you a chance. He said you’re a good man.” Ed waved and then got in his car.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Do You Think I’m Tall?

  Jack walked in the apartment with his arms loaded with subs, sodas, and snacks for both Replacement and Lady. They both rushed up to greet him, but Replacement stopped halfway across the living room and looked away.

  Jack tossed everything down on the counter, walked over to her, and gently wrapped his arm around her waist. He leaned down and waited. Her arms snaked around his neck, and she kissed him.

  Lady’s barking and whimpering at the counter finally interrupted them.

  “I better intercept her before she eats your steak and cheese,” Jack joked.

  “Mine, Lady.” Replacement dashed over to the bags. She pulled out a cup, took off the cover, and made a face. “Ewww…did you forget to order the roll or did you put me on low-carb?” She held the cup at an angle.

  Jack grinned as he grabbed the cup. “It’s their new menu item. It’s called cup-o-meat-and-extra-cheese-with-bacon.” He kissed her again. “But it’s not for you.” With one quick flick of his wrist followed by a large plop, the contents of the container fell into the empty dog bowl on the floor.

  Lady rushed over and devoured it.

  Replacement giggled and clapped. “That’s not very economical, but you’re the biggest, kindest man I’ve ever met.” She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a big hug.

  “Yeah, I’m a softy.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

  “A gentle giant.” She smiled as she unwrapped his sub and opened his straw.

  Replacement said grace, but Jack didn’t sh
ut his eyes; instead, he looked down at his hands. “Wait a second—you think I’m a giant? Do other people think I’m tall?”

  “You are tall.” Replacement jumped up to touch the top of his head. “Anyone would think that—” She took a step back and her hands balled into fists. “NO. NO WAY. NO.” She stamped her foot.

  Jack took a bite of his sub. “Why not?” he mumbled. “I just don’t know if I’m big enough to get his attention.”

  “What part of no-flipping-way are you having a hard time understanding?” Replacement looked toward the computer. “Are you going to eat here or…?”

  “What’re you working on?”

  “I’m going over the reports. Mei emailed you a copy.”

  Jack nodded. “Man, she’s a machine. She’s so thorough.” Jack looked down at his feet. “I could wear boots with a really big heel.”

  “NO.” Replacement rushed back over. “If you think I’m going to let you walk around with a huge target on your back, you’re crazier than me. No.”

  “Okay. Did you find anything of interest?” Jack asked.

  She hurried back to the computer. “I did find something on the animal shelter database. I started looking at the big dog data again because three of the victims had giant breed dogs. I didn’t find any connection to other people, but I did see this.” She pulled up a line chart.

  The police scanner clicked on as an officer radioed in his position. Replacement reached out and turned down the volume.

  Jack turned his attention back to the chart and tried to read the key. “Length of time? Does that mean big dogs got adopted faster?”

  She shook her head. “Big dogs got put to sleep faster. They’re supposed to keep them for thirty days, right? Well, sometimes they only kept them a week before they put them down.”

  Jack sighed. “Maybe that’s a decision based on economics.” He noticed Replacement’s jaw tighten. “I don’t agree with it, of course,” he added. “I can call Ryan and ask.”

  Replacement shook her head. “I’ll call Lacie. She’ll know.”

  Jack walked back over to the kitchen counter and grabbed his sub. Replacement picked up her phone. As he took a huge bite of his sub, he watched the toasted crumbs fall onto the paper. Replacement started animatedly speaking into the phone, but he didn’t really hear what she was saying. All of his focus shifted to the blackened pieces of bread on the paper.