The Cleanest Kill

by Rick Reed

  Since Jack had come home he’d done the improvements Katie wanted. He replaced the fence, planted a flower bed, updated the garage to hold both of their vehicles, put an alarm system in the house. He’d done that for her, and for him, he bought Katie a gun and taught her to shoot. He’d done all that, but he hadn’t touched the room that would have been their daughter’s. He couldn’t bring himself to open the door to that room. He missed little Caitlyn. Mourned her. He couldn’t face what he’d become because of it. What that cost them as a family.

  But tonight—tonight was about being back. Back in Katie’s life. Back in society. Back in the knowledge of true love. Katie had pulled him out of his funk, but he could still feel the edge of something bad waiting in the wings. He was afraid he’d screw this up like he’d screwed up before. He loved her completely, but he didn’t know if he was ready for a baby; trying again, risking it all again.

  He had a special surprise for her tonight. He’d been carrying something in his glove box for ten months, never finding the right moment. Tonight, he wouldn’t wait for the right moment. He’d make one. There was a full moon tonight. Liddell had told him the Farmer’s Almanac called it a frost moon or a mourning moon. It was a full moon, so he didn’t really care what it was called. He was finished mourning.

  He lifted the hot tub cover. The water temperature was perfect. He laid out the picnic items on the table. A tray of cheeses and chocolate-covered strawberries, a bottle of her favorite wine. He wasn’t a wine drinker. He put out two glasses: One for wine, the other a tumbler for scotch. He decided to enjoy the romantic evening. Let the job fade. If it didn’t, he’d stuff its ass in a metal cage. Nothing was going to interfere with this evening.

  He put his key in the kitchen door and found it unlocked. He’d cautioned Katie dozens of times to lock the doors. It annoyed him, but he wasn’t mad. She was a sunshine person and dark thoughts didn’t hang over her head like they did over him. She was the light to his dark. They balanced each other. Besides, he had a dog. A mean dog. A big poodle-looking thing with a bad disposition named Cinderella. He hadn’t picked out the name. He’d inherited her from a homicide victim. He didn’t blame the dog for the disposition with a name like that. Problem was, Cinderella didn’t know the difference between friend or foe. She hated him. Loved Katie. Hated him.

  He stuck his head inside and said in a fake Cuban accent, “Oh Lucy. I’m home.” No answer. No dog. Damn dog. Do what you’re supposed to and bark.

  He heard a whimper and saw Cinderella lying on the floor under the kitchen table. She didn’t bare her teeth at him, as was her usual first reaction to seeing him. “What’s the matter, pooch?”

  Cinderella’s snout lifted from the floor a few inches and lay back down.

  The kitchen light was off, but there was a light on in the stairway. Cinderella whimpered again and a chill ran up his spine. The whimper wasn’t coming from Cinderella. Even before the hair stood on the back of his neck, his .45 was in his hand. His senses picked up everything, analyzed his surroundings, heard everything down to the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway, and the humming of the refrigerator.

  His gun led the way, finger keeping a slight pressure on the trigger as he swept the downstairs and moved to the stairway. He thought he heard movement and then a woman’s scream and a pain-filled moan.

  Jack rushed up the stairs without feeling his feet touch the risers. The scream had come from the nursery. Jack pushed the nursery door open with his foot. Katie sat cross-legged on the floor by the pink bookcase they had bought way back when and were going to use for the baby’s toys. On her lap was a pink-padded leather-bound book that reminded him of the remembrance books Mrs. Day had shown him. This book was open to the pages that would have been the baby-to-be’s first photos.

  There was one of Jack holding a tiny football in one hand and a doll in the other when they first found out she was pregnant. There were photos of Katie at different stages of pregnancy, a photo of Jack putting the pink cabinet and the crib together, and a shot of them making ugly monster faces in the camera. He’d insisted on that selfie after a night of drinking and making love.

  Katie turned her face toward him and his heart broke. He sat down beside her, put an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close. They sat that way for a long time before she shut the book.

  “I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t want you to see me like this,” she said and pulled away. Jack wrapped his arms around her and held her against him. He firmly, but gently, took the book from her, set it across both of their laps and opened it again. She met his eyes, crying and smiling at the same time.

  “I was just tidying up in here and…”

  “Shhh,” he said, squeezing her tighter. “It’s a frost moon tonight,” Jack said and pointed up. “What say we melt it?”

  “Let’s,” Katie said and he kissed her in a way that would make the French blush.

  He reached in the pocket of his sport coat and held up a diamond ring, sans box. “Katie Murphy, I love you more than I can ever say. Will you—”

  “Jack…” she said, and the panic in her voice set his teeth on edge.

  “What is it, honey?”

  She pushed him away at arm’s length. “I have to tell you something. You may not want to do this when you find out.”

  Jack was stunned. He’d waited so long for the right moment and obviously this wasn’t it. He felt stupid and embarrassed. She was scared and that made him scared.

  “Wait,” she said and left the room. She came back carrying a digital thermometer and held it out for him to see with a curious expression on her face.

  Jack read New Choice and realized it wasn’t a thermometer. Two red lines in a small display window. According to the instrument that meant…

  “I’m pregnant, Jack. I’ve been having morning sickness for a few days.”

  He felt the blood leave his face. “So, you—” He couldn’t get the words out. “I—”

  “You don’t have to do anything,” Katie said. “It’s my fault. I know how you feel about having a baby. I know you’re not ready.”

  “I’m—”

  “You don’t have to explain. I don’t expect…”

  He came to his feet. “Katie, I—”

  “I know you’re not ready. I know that. I took precautions, but it happened.”

  “Will you stop finishing my sentences? I’m happy. Are you sure? I mean, of course you are. I’m going to be a daddy? God, that’s fantastic!”

  “Take a breath, Jack. Yes. You’re going to be a daddy.” She touched his face and her voice softened. “If that’s what you want.”

  “If that’s…Of course that’s what I want. I’m going to be a daddy!” He hugged her and kissed her and twirled her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Maybe you should sit down. Do you need something from downstairs? I’ll get it. You just sit and I’ll get—”

  “Jack. I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”

  “But you were crying, Katie. Are you okay? What can I do?”

  “Just hold me and listen.”

  He held her and kissed the top of her head. “Okay. Talk and I’ll be quiet.”

  She said, “I’ve been feeling a little ill in the morning, but I wasn’t running a fever. I bought a pregnancy test kit. It was positive. I went to the doctor a few days ago and it was confirmed. I’m a little over four months. I’m sorry for waiting. I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m pregnant. I’m going to have a baby. Then I started cleaning the nursery and found the baby book and then it hit me.” She buried her face in his chest, sobbing. He could barely understand the next words. “I’m—going—to—lose—you—again.”

  “Katie,” Jack said, holding her face in his hands and kissing her everywhere. “You never lost me. You’ll never lose me, honey. I’ve always loved you. Always. I want to have this baby with you. I want to marry you. Maybe no
t in that order, but you know what I mean.”

  Katie snatched the ring out of his hand and slid it onto her finger. “I thought you’d never ask, you stubborn man. What took you so—”

  She didn’t get to finish.

  Chapter 19

  Jack was up early and walked past the picnic he’d planned for Katie. The hot tub was still partially uncovered and some of the napkins had blown around the yard. He was starving. He snagged a little wedge of the cheese that was Katie’s favorite, popped it in his mouth, and spit it right out. How could anyone eat this crap?

  As he got in his Crown Vic, his back and knees popped loudly. He and Katie had spent the night on the floor, in the nursery, the picnic totally forgotten. Some things were just meant to be. Katie was pregnant. He was okay with this. Better than okay. It would be fine this time. He would spend more time at home with her. She would worry less and that had to help. Right? And when little Jack was born he could teach him to play baseball and win fights. “Always go for the nose or the nuts.”

  He’d also teach him why he shouldn’t follow in his old man’s footsteps like he and his father and grandfather had done. The Murphy curse would be broken. No law enforcement for little Jack. He was going to be a jet pilot. Strike that. He was going to be a scientist, like Jack’s brother, Kevin. Kevin had the perfect life. Kevin was smart, travelled the world, made a great living. Kevin was alone. Had been alone since a close call with a woman in Florida five years ago. Kevin was married to his job. Maybe it was a Murphy curse to live their work. He’d make sure Katie had a bigger hand in little Jack’s world. Maybe he’d grow up more like her. He could be a teacher.

  He pulled out of the garage. The horizon was a milky-blue and red streak. The sun wouldn’t be up for a bit. It felt much colder than the forty-seven degrees the garage thermometer showed. Then he remembered the thermometer didn’t work. Another thing on the to-procrastinate-list.

  There was no traffic as he made his way to Riverside Drive and drove past the Blue Star Casino to Waterworks Road. He pulled into the parking lot of Two Jakes. Liddell was already there. Jack pulled up next to Liddell and they rolled their windows down. No other cars were in the lot except for Vinnie’s old Indian motorcycle.

  “Remind me to get you a set of keys, Bigfoot. Strike that. I don’t have the budget to feed you,” Jack said, rolled his window up, and got out.

  Liddell leaned across and pushed the passenger door open. “Better ride with me, pod’na. I’ve got bad news and even worse directions.”

  “What happened?” Jack asked and changed vehicles. He feared the worst, of course. Reina had been shot. The guard on her room had been shot.

  “It’s Mrs. Day,” Liddell said. “She was murdered last night. Shot. I just got a call from the sheriff’s department.”

  Even with directions Liddell would have gotten lost if Jack hadn’t corrected him twice. They pulled to the narrow shoulder on Kleitz Road behind a Vanderburgh County sheriff’s two-tone brown Dodge Charger. A sheriff’s crime scene van was parked across the street. Yellow and black caution tape was strung and two white-clad crime scene detectives stood on the front steps of the house talking to a sheriff’s sergeant who Jack recognized.

  The sergeant waved them in and Jack and Liddell slipped under the tape and approached the steps. As they did, Jack noticed an orange marker flag in the grass just beside the driveway.

  Sergeant Elkins had the distinction of being the last deputy sheriff to make the rank of sergeant under the patronage system. He openly bragged about paying a past sheriff a thousand dollars for sergeant stripes. He paid another five hundred for a guarantee to stay on the street as a motor patrol sergeant and not work some chickenshit job like admin, or doing evictions, or serving subpoenas. He liked working the street, knew his people, had his favorite hangouts, coffee, knew where available bathrooms were, and knew places to hole up and sleep if he was so inclined.

  He was solidly built for a man in his early sixties. He had a full head of curly hair that he claimed was salt-and-pepper, but was mostly gray. His hands were calloused and the size of wooden mallets. An ever-present cigar was clamped between the teeth of a face that exuded annoyance.

  “This shoulda been yours,” Elkins said.

  “Good morning,” Jack said. “They haven’t gotten rid of you yet?”

  Elkins took the cigar out of his mouth. “I decided not to leave until I get better insurance. Vanderburgh County isn’t as generous as the police department. I retire, I have to pay twenty dollars a month. You guys get it free. I’m going to file an ADA lawsuit if they try to make me go.”

  “That’s the civic spirit I like to see in a dedicated law enforcement professional,” Jack said sarcastically.

  “You want to know what I got or you want to turn around? I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Elkins asked, the niceties over.

  “We came to party,” Liddell said and Elkins gave what would have been a chuckle for most people.

  Elkins said, “The coroner took her and left already. The deputy coroner gave a ballpark TOD—time of death—from six to ten yesterday evening. Neighbor drove past about ten o’clock last night and noticed her lights were on. Same neighbor drove past around midnight because she had to go get some milk. At midnight? Oh well. Anyway, she saw the lights were still on. Then this morning about four she drove past on her way to work. She owns a bakery in town. She makes doughnuts, Liddell. And she’s single.”

  “I’m happily married and I can always buy doughnuts,” Liddell answered.

  “I’ll give you her information anyway,” Elkins said. “She and the victim, Mrs. Amelia Day, have been friends and neighbors forever and she stopped to see if Mrs. Day was okay. The front door was unlocked. She opened the door and—surprise! The top of Mrs. Day’s head was splattered on the couch and back wall of the living room. You’re welcome to go in, but I can save you the time and I don’t have to add you to the crime scene log.”

  Good idea. Jack waited for him to continue.

  “Like I said, the body is already at the morgue by now. We’re closing her up. She was standing in the doorway. Shot once in the head. Killer drug her inside and pulled the door shut. There’s drag marks but, so far, no prints of any kind. No suspects. No weapon. We did find one thing in the yard.”

  Liddell said, “A .50 caliber shell casing.”

  “Yup,” Elkins said. “Right over there by the side of the driveway.”

  There was an orange flag stuck in the ground as a marker.

  “The killer must have shot from there. Not far, but still a good shot to hit her in the face like that.”

  “Was anything taken?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to find some family to come and check the house. Her only family is in Deaconess Hospital. I heard Dick’s conversation with her on the news last night. He’s so stupid he should run for Congress.”

  “Did you know Mrs. Day?” Jack asked. He suspected that Elkins knew something about everyone in the county. It was his superpower.

  “Her boy, Max, was killed when I was still a lowly deputy sheriff. Shot in the head in his car in a cemetery, if I recall correctly?” Elkins asked.

  “Right,” Jack said.

  “The dad, Harry, owned that gun shop downtown,” Elkins said. “Nice guy. Good family man. He was shot during a robbery. Shot in the head. Reina was shot at in the same cemetery where Max was murdered. That was on the news last night too. You got to pay better attention, Jack. Claudine Setera didn’t say anything nice about the police department last night. Is there any chance Double Dick will take the throne?”

  Jack said, “Come out to the car. I’ll tell you what we know.” The three men moved out of earshot of the crime scene detectives.

  “We’ve been ordered not to discuss the cases with anyone, but since you’re not anyone I can tell you. And we might need your help. We’re inve
stigating the murder of Mrs. Day’s son, Max. Thirty-seven years ago the boy was murdered in Locust Hill Cemetery like you said. Most of his head blown off. We have reason to believe the weapon used was a .50 caliber. There were apparently no suspects, but since we’ve reopened the case we’re making some headway.” Jack didn’t really believe they were making headway, but sometimes seeding the clouds, so to speak, yielded results.

  “I heard it was a .50 caliber that shot up Reina’s car,” Elkins said. “Listen, Jack. Maybe you shouldn’t tell me. Last time I got involved with a case of yours I covered for you and caught some heat.”

  Elkins had let Jack go into a burned structure to recover evidence without reporting it anywhere. It could have gotten Elkins in serious career trouble, but luckily the home’s owner was killed and Jack had caught the culprit. “We’re investigating Harry Day’s murder as well.”

  “I heard you was a fed now, so you can take this one off my hands. Seems you hit the trifecta, Jack,” Elkins said.

  “You wish,” Jack said and continued his accounting. “According to the Days, Deputy Chief Dick was, or is, a suspect in Max’s death. We have information that Dick and two friends were in a physical fight with Max at Rex Mundi the night he died and may have pursued him in Dick’s car. Dick’s dad was a Captain in the detectives’ office and the feeling is that he whitewashed Dick’s role so Dick could get on the police department.”

  Elkins asked, “Is old Double Dick a suspect in Harry’s murder too?”

  “Not yet,” Jack answered. “But he’s a contender for appointment by the incoming mayor, Benet Cato, to be our new Chief of Police, so now we’ve got that interference. Plus, it may go to the motive for several of these killings.”