Without another word, Olivia dropped Frederick’s head and charged, screaming at the top of her lungs. The instant move caught me off-guard, but I managed to squeeze off two rounds. Her face tightened and she grunted with each shot to her chest. She fell to her knees a few feet away, dropping the machete and toppling forward like a felled tree. I kicked the blade away and took a few steps back to see if she would move again. She didn’t. I reached for the phone in my back pocket. My hands shook and my fingers trembled, but I was able to dial ‘9-1-1’.
Chapter Eight
Two Days Later
I’d slept poorly over the two days that followed, if I’d slept at all. The horror of seeing Frederick’s severed head dangling in his wife’s hand haunted me, flooding my mind whenever I closed my eyes. I’d been a part of the police force most of my adult life, and I thought I’d seen everything, but nothing I’d experienced came close to what I’d seen in Olivia’s house.
Once the media found out that an elderly woman had beheaded her husband, it caught the attention of every news outlet in the country. Our department’s phone lines buzzed with reporters wanting to talk to me, hopeful of getting the inside scoop on what had gone down. I cared more about finding out what I’d missed twelve years ago. With what I now knew, it only took a little digging to discover the connection between Shelton Sewell and Frederick and Olivia.
Shelton had first met Olivia and Frederick the summer before his freshman year of college. At the time, Frederick owned a small ice cream parlor, and he hired Shelton to work part-time, saving a little money before he left for college. His time there didn’t last long, as freshman football players arrived on campus early to begin practicing for the upcoming season, but according to Shelton’s friends, he stayed in touch with the older couple.
When he lost his scholarship due to the cocaine incident, they mentored him. He even attended their church from time to time and helped them around the house whenever he was asked. Despite what seemed like a close bond, Olivia and Frederick were never called as character witnesses during Shelton’s trial. There was nothing to tell me why Shelton took the elephant bowl. Sometimes, I wonder if it was an awful trophy. Other times, I hope that some part of Shelton knew how monstrous his actions had been – that he'd taken the bowl to show Frederick and Olivia the true horror of a murdered mother; the innocence which, together, they'd stolen forever. Perhaps their hold was too strong for that. Whatever lies Shelton was told through those dark years, I'd never know.
But the one thing I did know was that they’d found a way into Shelton’s head when he was at his weakest, turning a misguided former athlete into a murderer.
The End
The Endearment Diary
A Short Story
Part of the Detective August Miller Series
By Charles Prandy
Chapter One
The early-morning sun was bright, and the temperature steadily climbed to a comfortable forty-seven degrees. Justin Clark stood at the sliding-glass door, sipping coffee as he peered out into the backyard. Steam from the mug spiraled into the air, fogging up his glasses when he brought it to his lips. Five men shuffled about in the backyard, performing the various tasks that would prepare the ground for penetration. One of the men stepped into an excavation tractor and fired it up. Briley Clark, Justin’s wife, stood next to him as the tractor’s engine roared across the yard.
“This is exciting,” she said, and Justin nodded. “I mean, two years ago, who would have thought we’d be putting a pool in our yard?”
“Two years ago, who would have thought that we’d be able to afford a house like this?” he replied.
“I know, right? Sometimes I still pinch myself when I pull into the driveway.”
The Clarks had moved into their dream home six months ago, taking up residence in a suburb in North Potomac, Maryland, about twenty-five minutes outside of Washington, D.C. Their realtor had received a tip that the house was going to be an estate sale, bringing it to them before it hit the market. The money they’d saved on the purchase price meant they could add the pool.
Their foreman, Eddie, turned and gave them the thumbs up, and Justin returned the gesture. Eddie nodded, and the excavation tractor plunged its plow into the ground.
“Well, we can’t turn back now,” Justin said.
“Why would we want to?”
The tractor dug up the first bits of earth and dumped the dirt a few feet away from the hole.
“You know, the girls kept asking if the pool would be ready by the time they’re home from school,” Briley said.
“You should have messed with them and said, ‘Of course it will’.”
“Yeah, try playing like that with a seven and nine-year-old and tell me how it goes.”
Justin nodded. His girls meant everything to him; they were the reason they’d bought the pool at all. It was early March, and the pool company they’d hired had said it would take nearly two months to complete. Just in time for summer, he thought.
“Hungry?” Briley asked.
“Yeah, I thought the coffee would do the trick, but it’s not.”
She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, saying, “Pancakes and bacon, then.”
“You read my mind.”
Briley moved to the kitchen, and Justin watched the excavator work on a little longer before following. He looked at his watch and noted that it was 8:35.
“I’d be in the middle of my morning lecture, right about now. It was a good day to play hooky.”
“And I’d be starting some godawful report.”
Briley reached up into the cabinet and grabbed a mixing bowl. Justin brought his mug to his lips and was getting ready to take another sip when he heard yelling from the backyard.
“Stop! Stop!”
The two looked at each other inquisitively and then heard the tractor’s engine cut off.
“Look, there!” came another voice.
Justin and Briley dashed to the sliding door, looking out at where Eddie and his crew were huddled around the fresh hole. He turned and motioned for them to come outside.
“What’s wrong?” Briley asked.
“Not sure,” said Justin, opening the glass slider and looking to Eddie. “What’s going on?”
“You gotta see this,” he responded.
“What is it?”
“We need to stop,” Eddie said. “We just found bones.”
“Bones?” Briley shrieked.
“Are you sure?” Justin asked.
“Take a look for yourself.”
Justin peered into the hole and saw what looked like the side of a human skull.
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah,” Eddie agreed.
Justin fumbled his phone out of his pocket, already dialing 9-1-1.
Chapter Two
Sweat dripped from her chin, her heart raced, her legs were on fire. She could barely breathe, but when August looked at her stopwatch and saw that a minute had gone by, she raised her voice over the blaring music and shouted, “Done!”
Twenty-five indoor cyclists cheered with gratitude, their last sprint finally over.
“Great ride, everyone. The hour flew by, didn’t it?” The group replied with a torrent of sarcastic comments, and she smiled. “Just remember, change doesn’t happen unless you want it.”
Detective August Miller taught indoor cycling once a week, before her shift, and regularly enjoyed exercising in the morning. She showered, changed her clothes and was in her car within thirty minutes. She stopped by Starbucks before heading to the station, and received the call that human bones had been found in a nearby backyard. Ten minutes later, she turned onto Everglade Court, where the house was at the end of a cul-de-sac.
Two Montgomery County police cars and a news van were already on the scene; it wasn’t every day that human remains were found on private property, so August wasn’t surprised to see the news van. As she got out of her car, a uniformed officer met her and led her to the backyard.
“Pool company had just started digging when they saw the skull.”
“Sure it’s human?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty obvious.”
They walked around the house to the backyard, where a group of men were giving preliminary statements.
“Pool company?” August asked, and the officer nodded. She looked to her left and saw a man and woman standing on a deck. The man was tall, with dark wavy hair, and wore dark- framed glasses. The woman was of average height, with long, brown hair pulled back into a ponytail.
“And there are the homeowners,” she said.
She introduced herself to the workers first and then looked down into the hole. The skull is obviously human, she thought. Outside of biology class, it was the first time that she’d seen a human skull in person. Dirt covered a lower part of the chin, but there were still strands of brown hair attached to the dome. She turned to the workers and they retraced how the skull was found. After hearing their statements, August walked across the yard to the deck.
“Hi, I’m Detective Miller,” she said, extending her hand to the homeowners.
“Justin Clark, and this is my wife, Briley.”
“Mind if we go inside and sit for a moment? I just have a few questions.”
“Of course,” Justin responded.
He and Briley turned towards the sliding glass door and went inside, where Briley motioned for August to sit.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked.
“No thanks, I’m fine.” August took out a notepad and pen. “I understand that you guys haven’t been living here long?”
“About six months,” Justin said.
“Is that really a human skull in our backyard?” Briley asked, and August nodded.
“It is.”
“I can’t believe this,” Briley breathed, shaking her head.
“Have you guys been in the backyard much, since you’ve been living here?”
“No,” Justin said. “It was a pretty cold winter, so we haven’t really had a chance to use it. We wanted to have the pool ready for the summer, so our girls could enjoy it.”
“You have kids?”
“Two girls,” Briley replied. August jotted some notes in her notepad.
“Have you seen anything unusual, since you’ve been living here?” she asked, but they both shook their heads.
“We love the neighborhood,” Briley said. “It’s quiet, and everyone knows each other. A lot of good families. When we first moved in, three neighbors had us over. Kind of took us aback that people really do that for strangers, but those are the kind of people who live here.”
“What do you know about the people who used to own this house?”
“Not much. We got this as an estate sale,” Justin said. “I believe the husband died a couple of years ago, and then the wife, sometime last year. I think they were an elderly couple.”
“Do you know if the house had been vacant for a while?”
“I believe so.”
August wrote in her notepad again and, as she did, she thought about how there wasn’t any decaying skin on the skull. She wasn’t an expert on human anatomy, but she did know that it took quite a while for flesh to completely rot off bone. Unfortunately, since the ground had already been disturbed, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to find out how long the body had been there.
“Okay, I think that’s all, for now,” she said. She pulled out her card and handed it to Justin. “If anything comes to mind, or if you guys have any questions, call me any time.”
They both thanked her. As they stood, August took notice of Justin’s t-shirt for the first time.
“Cool shirt,” she said. Justin looked down and smiled.
“Oh, thanks. It’s pretty old.”
“We have matching ones,” Briley said. “We’re kinda superhero nerds.”
“You kinda look like him.”
“That’s what I said,” Briley responded. As August walked out of the house, she chuckled at Justin’s shirt, ‘I’m her Superman’.
Chapter Three
August walked out of the Clarks’ home with enough questions to fill a book. Who was buried in the ground? How long were they there? As she headed to her car, a small crowd of neighborhood onlookers gathered near the house. Across the street, near her car, three middle-aged women talked amongst themselves. As August approached, their glances fell on her.
“Morning,” she said, and they returned the greeting. August pulled out her badge and showed it to the women. “I’m Detective Miller.”
“Is everything okay, over there?” one of the women asked.
“With the family? Yes, they’re fine.”
The women exhaled or placed their hands over their chests, expressing relief.
“You ladies live in the neighborhood?”
“Yes,” they answered.
“Been living here a while?”
“We’ve been here about fifteen years,” one woman responded.
“Did you know the previous owners?”
“Yes, Martha and Craig Rubenstein. They were great neighbors.” The women looked at each other. “Lovely people.”
“Do you know how long they owned the home?”
“Probably around twenty years. Did something happen?”
August turned towards the house and then back to the women.
“The remains of a body were found in the backyard.”
All three women gasped and raised their hands to their chests again.
“Oh my,” one of them said. The three looked at each other again, but there was a caution in their eyes that made August think she was being left out of a secret.
“Anything you gals want to tell me?”
One of the women stepped closer and lowered her voice, as if she was afraid to be overheard. “We never cared for him much.”
“Cared for whom?”
“Marshall. Their son.”
“The previous homeowner’s son?” The women nodded. “Why? What was wrong with him?”
“He was trouble. Always getting into trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“He was arrested a couple of times. Broke his parents’ hearts. They did all they could for him, but he just wouldn’t leave trouble alone.”
August pulled out her notepad and wrote down Marshall’s name. She made a mental note to check the database for him; if he’d been arrested, the department would have information on him.
“Do you know where Marshall lives now?”
“Last I heard,” one of the women said, “he was at Seven Locks.”
“Seven Locks?” August asked, and the women nodded as she wrote it down. She thanked them and then headed to her car. ‘Seven Locks’ was a nickname given to the detention center for Montgomery County, located on Seven Locks Road. Inmates there served a range of time that didn’t exceed eighteen months. She fired up her engine, drove away from the house and wondered if her murderer was already behind bars.
Chapter Four
A couple of hours later, August was at her desk looking through the database for Marshall Rubenstein. When she found his mug shot, he wasn’t at all what she expected. Given what the women had said about him liking trouble, August had imagined a rougher-looking man, possibly with a scraggly beard and some tattoos. What she found instead was a handsome man who looked like he belonged at Harvard or Yale. He was clean-cut and wore his hair, a dirty blond, short. He smiled at the camera, blue eyes sparkling over a cleft chin, and August reflected that, if she didn’t know she was holding a mug shot, it could have been a head shot for a Hollywood actor.
She pulled up his profile and saw that he’d been released from the detention center three months earlier, after spending nearly eleven months inside for armed robbery and aggravated assault. His past was checkered with incidents, mostly related to theft. She wondered if he was a drug user. His parents lived in a nice house, in a well-to-do neighborhood,
which meant he probably hadn’t wanted for much growing up. There were numerous reasons why kids from the suburbs stole, but from August’s experience, it was generally because they were addicts.
His rap sheet chronicled a decade of incidents, but nothing as violent as murder. If he was the killer, what had driven him to take another’s life? She found the number to his parole officer and gave her a call.
“This is Ms. Pryor,” said the woman on the other end of the line.
“Hi, this is Detective Miller from Montgomery County PD. I’m calling to inquire about one of your parolees, Marshall Rubenstein.”
“Yep, he’s one of mine. How can I help you?”
“Have you heard from him, lately?”
“He just checked in with me two days ago. Anything wrong?”
“I just came from his parent’s old place. The remains of a body have been dug up in the backyard.”
“Jesus,” Ms. Pryor said. “Was Marshall involved?”
“I don’t know. The remains look pretty old. What can you tell me about him?”
Ms. Pryor ran through the same information that August had just read on her computer.
“I know he’s been in and out of the system a lot,” Ms. Pryor said, “but I think this last time got to him.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, you know how it is. A lot of these guys suddenly find God once they get locked up, and then when they get out, they’re back to their old selves. But Marshall’s been steady. I check up on him regularly, and he has people around him to keep me in the loop. So far, he’s been attending church regularly and goes to his meetings.”
August nodded to herself. She used to say that if anyone was struggling to find God, they should check jail.
“So, based on what you know about him, do you think he could commit murder?”
Ms. Pryor exhaled over the phone.
The Elephant Bowl Page 3