The Missing Mistress

by Thomas Fincham

  A driver stuck his head out his window and yelled, “That’s the wrong way, buddy! You need to go away from the accident, not towards it.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” Callaway said and kept walking.

  Two men were having a heated argument. One of them had cut off the other. Both their cars were now taking up two lanes.

  One of the men hurled a curse at the other. Callaway looked at them and said, “Take it easy. There are kids around.”

  The man gave him the finger and said, “Mind your own business, pal.”

  Callaway shook his head. He looked over at Nina. She looked scared. “This is how adults act when they are stressed,” he said.

  “I hope I never become an adult,” she said.

  Sometimes I wish that too, he thought. I wish you could stay my little girl forever.

  Fortunately, the scene of the accident was not as far as he had thought. Half a dozen police cruisers, their lights flashing, were close at hand.

  He walked up to a uniformed officer. The officer gave him a stern look and said, “Sir, please get back in your vehicle. There is nothing to see here.”

  “I need to speak to Detective Dana Fisher.”

  The officer looked annoyed. “Sir, I need you to get back to your car.”

  “Tell her I know the victim,” Callaway said. “His name is David Becker.”

  FOURTEEN

  A tow truck pulled up in front of the Mercedes. The driver got out and asked, “Where do you want me to take it?”

  “Straight to the Milton Police Department,” Fisher replied. “Do you know where that is?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And make sure no one else touches the vehicle from here to there.”

  He nodded and got to work.

  Milton P.D. stickers were placed on the Mercedes’s door handles, locks, and trunk area. If anyone tried to get inside, they would have to remove the stickers, alerting the authorities that someone had unlawfully accessed the vehicle.

  Fisher did not want to examine the vehicle in detail in front of everyone. That would require additional time.

  She watched as the tow truck driver hoisted the Mercedes up. He made her sign a piece of paper, giving him authority to drive the vehicle away and the right to charge the Milton P.D. for the service. He then got in the truck and pulled the Mercedes away.

  An officer approached her.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” the officer said. “But this gentleman says he knows the jumper.”

  She saw Callaway and his daughter standing behind the officer.

  Fisher smiled. “Thank you, officer. I’ll take it from here.”

  When he was gone, Callaway said, “I’ve been calling you all morning.”

  “Can’t you see I’m busy?” she replied. She then leaned down and said, “Hi Nina.”

  “Hello, Detective Fisher,” Nina replied.

  “Shouldn’t you be at school today?” Fisher asked.

  “There’s no school today, and Daddy is taking me to the zoo.”

  Fisher looked over at Callaway. “Is that right?”

  “That’s the plan,” he said.

  She stood up. “So, what are you doing here?”

  “Like I told the officer, I know the guy who jumped.”

  “David Becker?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  Callaway sighed. “He came to my office last night.”

  Fisher’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

  “He had a job for me.”

  “What kind of job?”

  “He wanted me to find someone.”

  “Who?”

  “A woman.”

  FIFTEEN

  Callaway was about to elaborate when Holt walked toward them with a scowl on his face. Callaway had a feeling this was not going to be pleasant.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Holt said. “This is an active crime scene.”

  Callaway looked around. “I don’t see any crime.”

  “We won’t know if there was one until we complete our investigation.”

  “He committed suicide,” Callaway said.

  “How do you know that?” Holt asked.

  “Like many people in the city, I watch the news, too,” Callaway replied.

  “The news can be wrong.”

  “So, he didn’t jump off the overpass?” Callaway asked, innocently.

  Holt opened his mouth and shut it. He then saw Nina. A smile broke across his face. “Well, who is this little lady?” he asked as he leaned down and shook her hand.

  “Sabrina Callaway,” she replied. “But everyone calls me Nina.”

  “Shouldn’t you be at school, Nina?”

  “There’s no school today, and my Dad is taking me to the zoo.”

  “But he brought you here instead?”

  “I told him it wasn’t safe to leave me in the car.”

  Holt glared at Callaway. “He wanted to leave you behind?”

  “You did?” Fisher snapped at him.

  “Whoa! Hold on a second.” Callaway put his hands up in defense. “I was never going to leave my daughter in the Charger.”

  Nina put her hands on her hips. “You thought about it.”

  “I… I…” he stammered.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself, Lee,” Fisher scolded.

  Holt said to Nina, “If you want me to drive you back to your mother, I’ll be happy to do it.”

  Nina smiled. “I think I’ll be fine.”

  Callaway’s eyes widened. “You think?”

  Nina said to Holt, “He can be dumb sometimes, but his heart is in the right place.”

  “Who told you that?” Callaway asked.

  She turned to him. “Mom did.”

  Callaway shook his head. “Alright, let’s get back to why I’m here.”

  Holt stood up. “Why are you here anyway?”

  Holt and Callaway had never seen eye to eye. Callaway thought Holt was thick-headed and stubborn. Holt, in turn, thought Callaway was reckless and got in the way of an investigation. On any other day Callaway would have given Holt a piece of his mind, but today he decided to cut the man some slack. After all, Callaway could have been locked up in prison for murder had Holt not decided to change his mind and look into a far-fetched theory Callaway had.

  “Like I was telling Dana,” Callaway said, “I know the jumper.”

  “David Becker?” Holt said, surprised.

  “Yes, he’s my client.”

  Fisher said, “You said he asked you to find a woman.”

  “Yes.”

  “Who is she?”

  “I have no idea. I just took the case last night.”

  Holt and Fisher said nothing.

  “And you are sure it’s David Becker?” Callaway asked.

  “His wallet with his photo ID was in his pants pockets,” Fisher replied. “So, yeah, it’s him.”

  “Do you mind if I took a look?” Callaway asked, pointing at the guardrail.

  “Sure,” Fisher said. She then took hold of Nina’s hand. “Not you, sweetie. You stay here with me.”

  Callaway walked over to the guardrail and looked down. David Becker’s body was covered in a white sheet. Like the news had stated, he lay on the windshield of a sedan.

  Damn, Callaway thought. He’s really dead.

  He went back to the group.

  Fisher’s phone buzzed, but she did not answer.

  “Are you going to answer it, or ignore it like you did mine?” Callaway quipped.

  She rolled her eyes and pulled her phone out. She saw the number and frowned. “I have to take this,” she said.

  She moved away from them.

  Nina turned to Callaway. “Daddy, can we go to the zoo now?”

  “Yes, we can.”

  Fisher returned and said, “I have to go.”

  “Go where?” Holt asked.

  “To Lockport.”

  She began to walk away.

  Holt said, “We have an ongoing investi
gation.”

  “You can handle it,” she yelled back. “I’ll message the sergeant.”

  Holt turned to Callaway, who was just as confused as he was by what just happened.

  SIXTEEN

  Fisher raced down the shoulder of the freeway with her siren blaring. If anyone asked, she would say she was rushing along the shoulder for work, but in fact, it was for personal reasons.

  She took the next exit, drove another mile, got off the freeway, and then found a quiet road.

  She pulled to the side and parked.

  She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. She exhaled slowly to calm her nerves.

  The call had come from her brother, Casey.

  After having two boys, Mike and Sam, her parents tried for a girl. When Fisher was born, they wanted her to have a friend. They tried for another girl, but then Casey came along, and they stopped having more children.

  Fisher had grown up in a house filled with aggression and chaos. There were always fights breaking out. There was always someone getting hurt. And there was always some sort of competition, especially amongst the older boys. Fisher, not wanting to be left out, would jump into the fray as well. One of her bottom teeth was loosened when Sam tried to wrestle her to the floor. She suffered a concussion when Mike tackled her in a game of touch football.

  She learned to stand up for herself and to fight for everything, however little it might look at the time. This gave her the strength and courage to compete against the boys in the police academy and come out on top of her class.

  This trait also served her well as a homicide detective. No matter how tough an investigation turned out to be, she had the will and determination to see it through until the end.

  Growing up, Casey was kept away from his older siblings’ combative ways. He was different than the others. He was sensitive and almost delicate. Once, their father scolded all of them for something they had done. Mike, Sam, and Fisher took his scolding in stride. They were used to getting yelled at for all the shenanigans they were up to. But Casey took his father’s words hard. He cried the entire night.

  Their mother was the first to see this. She tasked Fisher with keeping a watchful eye on Casey so that he did not get hurt. In the process, Fisher became his protector. She made sure he was taken care of. Fisher did not like to admit it, but her maternal instincts kicked in when it came to Casey. He was her baby.

  They became very close. They would share everything with each other. They had the same interests in movies, music, and even fashion. Casey loved to dress up and Fisher encouraged him to do so. But as Casey went through the teenage phase, they began to grow apart, which was natural. As a man, he looked to other males for mentorship and guidance.

  That still did not change the bond Fisher shared with him.

  When he had called her, he told her he was in trouble, and he needed her help.

  She asked if he wanted money, but he said it was something far more serious.

  She drove the SUV back onto the main road.

  She would fill Holt in on the details later. Right now, she had to book a flight to Lockport.

  SEVENTEEN

  Callaway returned to the Charger. He was surprised no one had ticketed or towed his car, even though it was blocking the shoulder lane, which was designated for emergency vehicles only.

  Maybe someone thought my car had broken down, Callaway thought.

  Regardless, he was grateful nothing had happened to his prized possession. Over the years Callaway had made terrible financial decisions. He had gambled his money away. He had invested in Ponzi or get-rich schemes. He had bought real estate at the peak, only to see the banks take it during the downturn. But through all those trials and tribulations, the Charger never left his side. The car was the one constant in his otherwise unstable life.

  The day he was forced to sell his Charger would be the day he hit rock bottom. He had come close many times, but through ingenuity or sheer good luck, he had always managed to find a way out.

  Today, he no longer wanted to take any risks. He was making a concerted effort to stay away from casinos and horse races. He could not help himself whenever an opportunity presented itself. He always assured himself by thinking, this is finally my chance to strike it rich. That never happened, but he would fool himself each time.

  He also had a soft spot for alcohol. He was not a drunk by any means, but he was known to get drunk whenever he found himself at a bar. He just could not control himself. One drink would lead to another, and next thing you knew, he would be walking down the street not knowing where he was going or how he got there.

  No more, he thought. I have a little girl that needs me.

  The Charger was all black and it was pure muscle. Whenever he revved the engine, he could feel adrenaline course through his veins.

  An irate client had once gone at his precious car with a baseball bat. The Charger’s windshield was cracked, its taillights were smashed, and the body was dented all over.

  Callaway remembered crying at the sight of his beloved vehicle. He had vowed never to put the Charger in harm’s way again.

  A thought occurred to him. Isn’t that what you just did by leaving it unattended by the side of the freeway? The freeway?! Who knows what someone could have done to it, Lee.

  He grimaced.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, moving his hand over the car’s body.

  “You’re acting weird, Dad,” Nina said, standing next to him.

  He blinked and then said, “Get inside.” He held the door for her. Once she was seated and secured, he got behind the wheel.

  Right before he left the scene, Holt had quipped, “Your client is dead, which means you’ll have to find another case to earn your fees.”

  Callaway took a deep breath. Holt is wrong, he thought. David paid me in full and in advance. He hired me to perform a task and I’m not about to just let it go.

  He started the engine.

  Nina asked, “Can we go to the zoo now?”

  “One more stop, darling,” he replied. “And then we’ll go.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Holt walked back to the scene of the crash.

  A woman was hunched over the victim’s body.

  Andrea Wakefield was petite with short, cropped hair and her round prescription glasses were constantly sliding down her thin nose.

  As the medical examiner, her opinion on the cause of death was vital. Her eyes darted over David Becker’s body, recording, analyzing, and storing every detail in the back of her mind. She could remember information at the most crucial time.

  “Not the most ideal place to conduct an examination,” she said, nodding in the direction of the white sheet above her head.

  “There is no way to secure the scene properly,” Holt said.

  “We have a tent in our van that we can use,” she offered.

  “Yes, but we don’t want to be here too long.”

  She thought for a moment. “You need the freeway cleared as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, and the only reason we haven’t moved the body yet is that we are waiting for you to give us permission.”

  “Thank you for obliging my request, Detective Holt,” she said. “You can’t compare reviewing photos taken at the scene or reading notes describing the scene to actually standing in the middle of the scene. It’s the only way to see, smell, and breathe it all in.”

  Holt gave her a confused look.

  She smiled. “Let me elaborate. There may be a dozen photos of the victim from different angles, but they still won’t capture all angles. You may document in your notes that you didn’t smell alcohol on the victim. That might very well be true, but I might want to know what cologne he was wearing. It might mean the victim had sprayed just enough to cover the liquor he’d consumed prior to his death.”

  “I see your point,” Holt said.

  “Should we proceed, or wait for Detective Fisher?” Wakefield asked. />
  Holt still was not sure why Fisher had abruptly left. She had never done that before. He knew she must have a genuine reason, and that was making him apprehensive.

  As her partner, he wanted her to know that he had her back. And that she could trust him. She had been there for him in more ways than he could count. She let him stick around during his nephew’s murder investigation even though there was pressure from above to excuse him. The higher brass worried his conflict of interest might interfere with the investigation. She stuck her neck out for him and kept him in the loop, and for that, he was forever indebted to her.

  If she was in some trouble, he would drop everything in a heartbeat to be with her.

  Right now, though, he would give her the space she needed.

  “You can proceed without Detective Fisher,” Holt said.

  Wakefield stared at him. “All right. From a cursory examination, I don’t see any abrasions anywhere on the body that might indicate there was a struggle.”

  Holt knew where she was going with this. If the victim had a fight with someone, then there could be other victims as well. It was not uncommon to see a husband kill his wife and children and then attempt to kill himself.

  “I smell cologne on him,” Wakefield said, “but it’s not strong enough to mask any liquor he might have consumed. Also, I don’t see anything that indicates he might have taken narcotics, which leads me to conclude he was of sound mind. But naturally, a toxicology report will further confirm my initial assessment.”

  “We don’t believe he was pushed,” Holt said.

  “So, he jumped on his own accord?”

  “That’s what we believe.”

  Wakefield gave Holt a puzzled look. “If this isn’t a murder investigation, then why are you here?”

  “We just want to be certain no crime was committed here,” he replied.

  She understood. “I will conduct an autopsy and let you know if I find anything that might assist in your conclusions.”

  “Thank you,” Holt said.