“Why yes, come on in, have a seat. Would you like some tea, I'm having tea, I was making it when the doorbell rang, that's what took me so long. That and I'm a little slow. I am ninety years old after all.”
“Yes, ma'am, I understand,” I said politely having a seat on a beautiful white Victorian couch. “No tea for me, thank you.”
She came back into the living room walking gingerly with a pearl handled cane and eased down on the couch next to me. “I'm Mrs. Langston by the way, and what did you say your name was young man?”
“Michael Parsons, ma'am.”
“Mr. Parsons, so you said you had some questions for me about the senator? Despicable, evil, spiteful man, I loathed him. But I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. Terrible what happened to him. I heard he was murdered.”
“Yes ma'am, that's what I'm here about. Do you remember the night before he was discovered dead in the swimming pool?”
“Why yes, sonny, I'm old but my mind is sharp as whip.”
“Do you remember anything unusual that night, strangers around the property, vehicles you didn't recognize or looked out of place?”
“Yes I did as a matter of fact. I don't sleep well most nights and I was having some hot cocoa around three in the morning when I saw Mrs. Waterhouse's car pull into the driveway and then disappear into the garage. Weren't more then ten minutes later the garage door opened and she pulled out and left in a hurry.”
“So why didn't you tell the police bout this?”
“I was at a doctor's appointment the day they came around talking to everybody and they never came back. I didn't think much of it because to tell you the truth, the both of them, the senator and the Mrs. kept strange hours. I think they were having affairs, but I'm not one to gossip.”
I left the old lady's house with what could be my first break in the case. According to Mrs. Waterhouse's testimony, collaborated by her supposedly ill sister, she was with her sister that entire night and never came home until the following day. The old lady could have been mistaken, she wouldn't hold up in court, but I had gut feeling she had remembered correctly but I had no way to substantiate that assumption.
I poured over all the statements from all of the suspects and persons-of-interest for hours. Weird as it may sound I started to see a pattern. Their alibis and their stories were just so perfectly orchestrated like they were a scheme, a murder plot, each one covering for each other, every one of their stories were carefully told complimenting what was said by the other suspects. It was just too perfect and I wasn't buying it.
I began to develop a theory of how the crime was committed using all the players involved. I couldn't prove a word of it but it was a hell of a good story to tell someone who I felt was a weak link in the chain.
My story starts with the senator's mistress, Felicia. I have it from a couple of reliable sources that the senator liked to swim in the ocean late at night and one of his favorite activities was to have kinky sex in the water with Felicia. Reportedly they did it quite often, so on the night of the murder it was no big deal when Felicia asked the senator to go for a little romp in the ocean.
The stage was set. At this point the actual murder occurred. The two brothers, the wife's lover, whomever, was waiting for them. Banged the senator in the head rendering him unconscious or at least incapacitated and then drowned him, The wife was waiting with the getaway car, they piled the senator's wet, nude, dead body in the back and headed for the Waterhouse mansion.
By then it was around three in the morning, and this is when the neighbor Mrs. Langston had seen the car enter the garage. Once inside they pulled the senator's nude body out and with great difficulty, carried him to the pool and tossed him in. Got back in the car, being careful so that Mrs. Wterhouse was the only one that could be seen and exited the garage. Mrs. Waterhouse returned to her sister's house and the rest went wherever they had to go. Made perfect sense to me, but there was a problem, I had no proof and my only witness was a ninety year old woman. It would take some doing but I needed to break somebody's story to get them to roll on the rest of the conspirators.
I couldn't be sure the senator's two derelict sons, Teddy and Freddy, were involved, but I felt for sure the mistress, Felicia, was a good place to start. The senator needed a good reason to be in the ocean after midnight and his sexual escapades with her certainly seemed like the reason he was there the night of his death.
Felicia's place was a condo in a gated community located in an upscale part of town. I drove up and got out of my unmarked FBI unit, marveling at how some high priced hooker could afford such a place. I had called so she was expecting me and was waiting at the gate to let me in. I knew I was going to have to tread lightly with her because she had to know I would be fishing for incriminating information and she for sure wasn't planning on giving me any.
The inside of her condo was every bit as plush as the outside and she was a real looker. I could see why Waterhouse and all the rest of the beltway customers were so enamored with her. We sat down on a plush couch in the living room. She asked me if I wanted coffee, I said, no.
“Just a couple of questions for you Felicia. Okay if I call you Felicia?”
She nodded her head, already looking apprehensive about what I was going to ask her.
“So according to your testimony you were with a senator's aide by the name of Dylan Moore on the night of Senator Waterhouse was killed. Is that correct? I see where Mr. Moore swore in an affidavit, under oath, that he was with you all night. Correct? You didn't see Senator Waterhouse at all the night of the murder, is that right?”
Felicia looked at me like she wanted to run over me with her car, rolling her eyes, taping her fingers on the coffee table. “You have my statement. You have Dylan's statement. What more do you want?”
“Just wanted to hear it from you, that's all. Maybe something has changed since then. You know I was talking to Mrs. Waterhouse yesterday, and she seemed to think I should take a closer look at your testimony. She called you a few choice names I am embarrassed to repeat in front of a lady. Now why would she say something like that, Felicia?”
“That bitch!! How dare she point an accusing finger at me. If anybody is guilty it’s her and those two drug dealing sons of hers. I'm done. If you have any more questions for me you can talk to my attorney. Good day, detective. Please show yourself out of my house.”
I did show myself out. I had stirred up the pot a little, but still nothing solid arose from our conversation. I had rattled her but her accusation didn't mean anything. She was just pissed at Mrs. Waterhouse for accusing her, not knowing of course, I made the whole thing up.”
So I guess it was time to go see the Waterhouse boys, Freddy and Teddy. They lived on what you might call the wrong side of the tracks. I guess the senator had long since cut them off from the family fortune. When I pulled up in front of their place I was shocked to see a rundown wood frame house in ill repair, with an overgrown lawn, and an old wrecked car parked in the driveway. From the look of the flat worn tires and the oil stains on the driveway, it looked to have been there for quite a while.
Maybe Felicia had tipped them off or maybe she called Mrs. Waterhouse to curse her out and she called her sons, I'm not sure, but when I got out of my unit someone fired a precisely aimed shot hitting me in the shoulder. I spun around and hit the ground scampering for cover behind my car as more shots rang out. I was shot, only a flesh wound, no big deal but it hurt like hell. I hunkered down, called for backup and waited for the cavalry to arrive.
About a hundred cops cars, uniformed police officers, plain clothes detectives, and of course S.W.A.T. Converged on the raggedy wooden frame house like a swarm of termites. “There is no escape. Come out with your hands up.” Some cop with a bull horn bellowed.
Eventually the brothers got the message and came out. They sang like canaries when we got them back to the station house, particularly after the DA offered them a sweet deal to rat out the rest of the conspirators.
<
br /> It was just as I had envisioned it. The arrest included Mrs. Waterhouse, her sister, her lover, Felicia and the senator's aide, Dylan Moore. Justice had finally been served and the case was closed. Damn, I get tired of being right all the time.
A Truly Innocent Man
It came up a torrential down pour, Jack Reasons turned the collar on his heavy winter coat up against the cold. He took a sip of stale, lukewarm coffee, winched, and poured the rest out on the ground. He pulled a pack of Marlboro's and his lighter out of his coat pocket, lit one up and blew smoke disgustedly into the cold night air. He was on the run from the law, he saw blue lights flashing everywhere, even when there were none.
His whole situation was a page out of the television script, “The Fugitive,” but his story was real, not a made for prime time drama. He hadn't seen a one-armed man or any man, but he knew he didn't kill his wife. After he was convicted for the crime, he thought that was it, the judge had thrown the book at him, gave him the death penalty. Maybe he deserved to die for letting his wife get killed. He should have been there that night but he had to work late. Sounds like a load of crap somebody tells when they're cheating, but he really had to work late that night, and many other nights a well. He had managed to escape, careless prison guards had dropped the ball, gave him an opportunity and he took advantage of it.
A police car with its blue light flashing roared by, Jack instinctively jumped behind a building, peering out as the cop car stopped across the street. Two uniform officers stepped out and entered a convenience store. A robbery, more than likely, but the cops could have been looking for Jack, in fact for sure they had his mug shot, for sure a BOLO was on the streets, be on the lookout for Jack Reasons, male, Caucasian, average height and weight, blond hair, brown eyes, approach with caution, extremely dangerous.
Taking another drag off of his Marlboro, Jack watched the police car pull away from the curb and drive off. He had to get out of town. Go someplace where they didn't know his face. Somewhere he could be free, but he feared that place didn't exist for him. He needed to clear his name. But how? By finding the low down snake who actually killed his wife Monique. Maybe she was having an affair, that's it, a lover’s quarrel turned violent and ugly. A burglar or would be rapist broke into the house. He had argued that at his trial, the police, the prosecution and even the jury didn't buy that story.
“A bus, Greyhound, I could catch a train, no they'll be watching the bus and train stations and the airports. I could steal a car. I don't know how to steal a car Damn!” Jack said out loud, hoping no one had heard.
“I could hitch hike. I don't know, standing on the side of the road with my thumb out? The cops would be sure to catch me.”
Another siren, red flashing lights, a fire engine roared by Jack, he again ducked behind a building. “I've got to get out of this city, some way!” He yelled, frustrated with his situation.
He found himself in an alley, a delivery van, parked, running, keys in the ignition, driver had went inside. In a blink of an eye, without thinking, Jack jumped in the van and roared off into the night “This was a bad idea, Jack,” he said, to himself, shifting gears, flying down a main street. “The delivery guy's gonna call the cops, they'll be looking for the van. Gotta ditch it, soon.”
He was still pondering on that thought when out of nowhere, blue lights flashed behind him. The cop inside yelled over a speaker, “pull it over.”
Jack started to pull over and then thought foolishly, “no, I can out run these guys, at least I can try. I'm not going back to prison. If I'm gonna die, it ends tonight.” He pushed his foot down on the gas petal, put it in high gear and a high speed chase ensued. No way he could outrun the cops in a delivery van, what was he thinking or was he thinking at all. Refusing to pull over, the chase continued. Jack took a hard turn at a corner, didn't make it, the van rolled over, caught on fire, Jack was knocked out, but alive.
Like waking up from a nightmare, he woke up in a prison hospital. After he recovered he was put on death row, awaiting execution. He had had his chance, he blew it, and now he had to face the music.
Years came and went, along with countless appeals from him and his overworked attorney, but in the end Jack was still scheduled to die on the 5th of June, it was the 4th. He lie in his bed, resigned to his fate. He was going to die and that was that. He had prayed for forgiveness for all his sins, but for one he didn't need vindication. He was innocent of murdering his wife, Monique. He loved her, how could he kill her? “Why won't they believe me?” He said solemnly, but angrily, as he beat a balled up fist repeatedly on his prison bunk.
At the stroke of midnight they would put that needle in Jack's arm and his life would be over. He ordered steak, baked potato, corn on the cob and macaroni and cheese for his last meal, but ate very little of it, no appetite, funny how your appending death can ruin a man's appetite.
The padre came, they prayed, he cried, said he was sinner, yes, but swore to God in Heaven he was no murderer.
“Dead man walking!” The guard said somberly as he led Jack on his final journey to the chair of death. Jack faltered, staggered, almost fell, the guards held him up, his knees felt like rubber, like Jell-O.
Strapping him in the chair, they asked if he had any final words. “I'm innocent, I did not kill Monique, I swear. I just want you to know the blood of an innocent man will be forever on your hands.”
They put a hood over Jack's head, turned the killing machine on, stuck the needles in his veins, the chemicals flowed, he twitched and then was still, dead.
The state was satisfied they had executed a murderer. Monique's family felt a degree of closure after all the years of waiting.
Two weeks after Jack was executed new evidence came to light, he was really innocent, and another man had killed his wife. He was a truly innocent man, just like he said..
Simply Shorts Too Page 6
