The Silver Lake Murder

by Gregg Matthews

  “Please, sir, let me go,” Luke cries in a muffled voice.

  Stepping away from the trunk of his car, he puts the two backpacks into the back seat and locks the doors. The water’s edge is calm, he can see Kevin is sitting there with a first aid kit, ready to address his wounds. Looking over the calm, clear water his mind relaxes for a few minutes. He takes a seat next to Kevin.

  “Hey, Kevin?”

  “Blake, you okay, man?”

  “Couple of dog bites,” Blake moans as he sits down.

  “Let me get you cleaned up,” Kevin says, grabbing the first aid kit.

  There is a small fire next to Kevin. He quickly cleans and addresses Blake’s wounds.

  “Thanks, Kevin.”

  “How did it go?”

  “Good, we have the money,” Blake says smiling.

  “Great, where is Billy?”

  “He is right behind me.”

  “Okay.”

  “I will be back in one minute,” Blake says, standing up slowly.

  Walking back across the dirt road, he gets to the edge of the woods and shouts to Billy.

  “Billy, over here.”

  “OK, Blake.”

  Looking into the woods, he can see some of the tree branches moving, and Billy stepping through them. He turns the smartphone flashlight on so Billy can see him. He can see Billy adjust his direction and is in front of him quickly.

  “You okay, Billy?”

  “Yes, Blake,” Billy says, breathing heavily.

  “Great, let’s regroup.”

  “Okay, Blake.”

  He and Billy walk across the dirt road and over to Kevin. He stops at the car and goes into the back seat. He grabs a plastic shopping bag and puts a couple of fists fulls of cashand some gold coins in it for Kevin. He roughly tries to give him a third of the take. He ties a knot in the plastic bag to secure the cash. Stepping out of the backseat, he walks over to where Kevin and Billy are sitting. He hands Kevin the plastic shopping bag.

  “What’s this?” Kevin says, feeling the weight of the bag.

  “Your cut of the job tonight. One third.”

  Watching as Kevin quickly unties the knot and sees the money and coins.

  “Blake, this is a lot more than we talked about.”

  “It’s your fair share of the take. Hope it helps you in your life,” Blake says confidently.

  He and Billy smile at Kevin and thank him for his help with the tools to disable the dogs. They put his Long-Range Tranquilizer Rifle and black backpack into the back seat of his car.

  “Thanks for everything Kevin, get some rest.”

  “Thanks, Blake.”

  “Thanks, Billy.”

  “See you later Kevin,” Blake says.

  The sound of the engine turning over makes him smile. Kevin drives off into the darkness of the night, leaving no trail of ever being at Cripple Cove. Looking over at Billy as he walks over to the trunk of his car. Some slightly muffled cries for help are heard coming from the trunk. He can see Billy has had enough of the night. Reaching into the backseat, he randomly grabs one of the black backpacks and hands it to Billy.

  “Here, take this, Billy,” Blake says, handing him a black backpack.

  “Blake, if you give me a lot of money, I will be dead from an overdose in a week,” Billy says, not accepting the backpack.

  “Right, so what do you want me to do?”

  “Can you send my mother a little money every month? I will give her some and take some for me,” Billy says.

  “Yes, I can do that for you,” Blake says.

  “Thanks, Blake.”

  Watching as Billy is looking at the ground, he thinks he has more to say.

  “Lester took off because he was thinking about what he has done in the past when he had extra money, so don’t hate him for taking off on us,” Billy says.

  “I don’t hate him. I understand why he took off now,” Blake says.

  “Oh, good.”

  Watching as Billy is looking at the ground, he thinks he has more to say again.

  “Are you going to kill Luke? Billy says.

  “Does it matter?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “Let’s get on with our lives Billy. I am going back to New Orleans to find Rose,” Blake says with hope in his eyes.

  “You will find her,” Billy says, walking off into the dark woods in the direction of the Lowell House, Addiction Treatment and Recovery Center.

  Putting the backpack back into the back seat and locking the doors, He walks back around to the trunk. He can hear the sound of another car driving down backside lane. He hopes it is who he thinks it is. The car is approaching without any lights on. As the car gets closer, he can see the roof has dome lights on it. As the car gets close, he can read the side door Silver Lake Police.

  Ray McCrery steps out of the police cruiser.

  “Hey, Ray what brings you out to Cripple Cove tonight?”

  “Hey Blake, well I was hoping you will deliver on your promise.”

  Opening the well-lit trunk, showing Ray the contents.

  “Is that my old friend Luke?” Ray says.

  “Yes, it is,” Blake says.

  He and Ray lift Luke out of the trunk of the car. Ray can see Luke has had a long night. Ray walks Luke to the back of the police car. He removes all the tape from his wrist, ankles, and mouth. Ray properly cuffs him and reads him his rights. He puts him in the back seat.

  Blake takes the orange backpack out of the trunk. He opens it, showing Ray the Jackal cocaine, Jackal Methamphetamine, and other drugs he and Lester retrieved from the Punchbowl. He takes his smartphone out of his right front pocket. He texts Ray the pictures and video of the Punchbowl.

  “There are enough drugs in the orange backpack to put Luke in jail for a long time. The pictures and videos are from the Punchbowl located in the basement of the barn next to the commercial buildings.”

  “Yes, there are,” McCrery says, putting the backpack onto Luke’s lap.

  “The people of Silver Lake will be free from the drugs and alcohol he distributes throughout the lake’s region. The people who owe him money will be able to move on with their lives,” Blake says.

  “I am going to take Luke to Lowell and arrest him there. I have some friends there, who have been dying to meet him,” Ray says with a smile a mile wide.

  “Great, thanks for everything, Ray.”

  “Thanks, Blake. Good luck finding Rose.”

  “Thanks, Ray.”

  Watching as Ray’s police car drives down Backside Lane dirt road deeper into the night. Blake goes over to the water’s edge and cleans up a little. He washes his hands and face in the lake water. He looks around to make sure he has not left anything important behind. Looking out over the water, he can see the party on Little Rock Island is in full swing. The party will be going on all night into the next day. Getting back into his car he cannot help but feel a sense of pride for everything he has done. Getting Luke locked up for a long time has made him feel slightly better for what happened to Cindy Flynn. Blakes car drives down Backside Lane dirt road in the opposite direction of Ray’s police car, back towards the tattoo shop. He needs to get some rest after a long night in Silver Lake. He will be leaving for New Orleans first thing in the morning.

  CHAPTER 23

  New Orleans

  Blake fights back the early morning sunshine coming through the windshield of his car. Putting on a pair of aviator sunglasses and dropping the sun-visor down helps shield his eyes. He made the decision early yesterday morning to leave Silver Lake as fast as he could. The problems of Silver Lake are no longer his problems; he took care of the person responsible for the murder of Cindy Flynn. He is shifting his focus to his own problems. He desperately needs to find Rose.

  Driving all night and into today, has returned him back to New Orleans. He is still trying to find Rose. His hope of finding her has not faded. He is now sure she did not go back to Silver Lake. He keeps driving south. He tighte
ns his grip on the steering wheel trying to compose himself. I am never going back to Silver Lake again, this time I mean it!

  The drive from Boston to New Orleans takes at least twenty-one hours; he knows he has been desperate enough to do it a few times. The closer he gets to New Orleans, the more red brake lights he sees in front of him. The city of New Orleans is still recovering from Hurricane Katrina.

  Looking at the clock on the dashboard shows it is 8:00 a.m. His eye lids are heavy. When he looks in the rearview mirror, he can see red lines racing across the white base of his eyeballs. Around the edges of his eyes, there are traces of red. He catches himself before he dozes off. He is going to need to stop driving soon.

  He presses on the accelerator and keeps driving for now. His hands are both on the steering wheel at ten and two o’clock. His arms are sore and being held in place by his grip on the wheel. His mouth is dry and void of any moisture, he needs to get some water soon. He looks at several empty water bottles on the floor of the passenger seat. He knows there are some more on the back-seat floor. His stomach groans. He needs to stop at a gas station to fill the gas tank and his stomach.

  The big old car has completed the journey. He realizes from the sounds and the vibrations coming from the engine and transmission his car is on its final leg. He doesn’t think his car is going to be an option much longer.

  The motor vehicle traffic on Highway 10 north and south is gridlocked. He can hear some hissing sounds like a rattlesnake makes before it strikes, but knows it is something wet in the engine dripping on something hot in the engine. With his right hand, he lifts the blinker up and pushes it up once more, signaling he is turning right. Putting his right hand over the vent, he can feel the warm air blowing out. Lowering the driver’s window, he breathes in the fresh southern air. The air wakes him up a little. He is not sure of the exact day but knows it is summertime and July. The temperature outside is well over one hundred degrees.

  Up ahead, the sign reads New Orleans, he turns his blinker on. Every time the blinker blinks, a slow, dull sound echoes in his mind. Pulling the car off to the shoulder of Highway 10. The car’s engine is making some of its final sounds. From the rearview mirror he can see white smoke pouring out of the exhaust pipe. The gauges on the dashboard are not functioning properly. The car lets go with a loud gasp and turns off. Smoke is still coming out of the exhaust and from under the hood. He doesn’t pretend to come up with a plan to fix it. The car is done, it has served him well. Looking through the windshield, the color red is prevalent. The break-lights of the cars in front of him consume his view. The traffic into New Orleans is at a standstill. The car was not going to be moving whether it worked or not.

  Taking a minute to get out of the car and stretch his dehydrated, sore body. He can see hundreds of people walking on the grass south, down the side of Highway 10. Most of the people have exited their cars and decided to walk. The people are walking in the direction to go into New Orleans. People are trying to reclaim their businesses, homes, and cars lost in Hurricane Katrina. A few helicopters with different TV News station logos on the side race overhead. Police sirens are heard off in the distance. A warm summer breeze blows across his face.

  The scenery is familiar to him. He remembers the sounds and the warm winds. The experiences that come with being close to the ocean, has always attracted people to New Orleans. Looking at the signs, telling him where he is, still do not register as reality in his mind. He reads the sign again, New Orleans ten miles.

  It’s a little later in the day now, mid-afternoon. He has been driving for more than twenty hours, and his body and mind are ready to collapse. He realizes he is in no condition to walk. He retrieves a couple of bottles of water and two power bars from the trunk of his car. He makes sure all the windows in the car are down. He climbs into the back seat and passes out.

  CHAPTER 24

  The next day the warm southern sun, shines in through the windshield into the back seat. Blake rolls over, trying to avoid the sun. A few hours later, the sweat on his body is excessive. He rolls over a couple of times, not helping his cause any, he decides to get up. From the backseat, he opens the door and tries to focus on who and where he is. He looks around the landscape and again sees hundreds of people walking north along the highway and hundreds of people walking south back into the city.

  The motor vehicle traffic is gridlocked in both directions. A couple of Louisiana state police helicopters fly overhead across the highway towards the city. He can hear more sirens off in the distance.

  Getting up from the backseat. He can feel the clothes he is wearing are wet with sweat. He makes some adjustments as best he can. Walking to the back of the car, he opens the trunk and begins to gather himself. The first thing he grabs is a bottle of water. Tilting his head back and gulping the bottle of water down is bringing him back to life slowly. Reaching in, he takes another bottle of water and does it again, again one more time. When he tilts his head back, the sun shines bright in his eyes. He puts his aviator sunglasses on, and wraps a blue bandana around his head.

  His long curly brown hair is sticking up and out in a lot of different directions. The bandana will keep the hair and sweat out of his face while he walks. Putting another bandana over his mouth tying it in the back will keep the debris and smoke from the city streets out of his mouth. He puts on a fresh black sleeveless T-shirt, with writing on the front, Rivers Tattoo Shop, New Orleans, 704 Bourbon Street. Cut-off shorts and an old pair of hiking boots are pulled from the trunk as well. Taking the two backpacks with gold-coins and cash in them, he transfers the contents from both backpacks to one larger black backpack. The larger backpack holds the gold-coins and cash. He ties a red bandana around the large black backpack. He estimates the backpack to weigh twenty to twenty-five pounds. He drops a large hunting knife inside the backpack. He consumes a couple of protein bars and stuffs two more in his back pocket. Catching his breath, he throws the backpack over his right shoulder.

  The journey back to Rivers Tattoo shop at 704 Bourbon Street New Orleans begins. Knowing he is at least ten miles away; he finds a good pace and walks with determination. He joins the hundreds of people walking towards the city.

  Hoping he can find Rose, and they can move on with their lives together. During the walk, his mind takes him back to being with Rose and having everyday conversations with her. He wonders if he is losing his mind.

  Looking forward, he can see the people and cars going into the city of New Orleans towards Bourbon Street. The streets and people seem a little calmer than the last time he was here. Hurricane Katrina was the worst hurricane in the history of New Orleans. The city and people who live in it have been in recovery for months. Walking steady, he is soon on Bourbon Street. The backpack with the red bandana tied to it is heavy, but he can handle it, he convinces himself it’s not heavy, his mind is still strong.

  He walks in the direction of Rivers Tattoo shop at 704 Bourbon Street. Looking at his watch, he sees it is 12:00 noon. Hoping to find Rose, he prays to himself with the fraction of prayers he remembers as a kid. Our father who art in heaven hallow be thy name….

  CHAPTER 25

  Rose has lost track of the days, weeks, and months since Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. Looking down the street, she can see the storefront buildings with piles of wet furniture and construction debris in front of each one of them. Everything is wet.

  First thing in the morning, the shelters housing the hurricane victims, release the people back into the streets. Some of the people look for loved ones and family members. Names and pictures are posted in common locations on Bourbon Street. Most people do not have access to social media yet. The computer networks have been down for months. Some people try to rebuild their businesses, and some look to survive the day. The crime rate is astronomical.

  During the day, the streets are filled with people looking for something to eat, and looking to make some money. Later in the day, free soup kitchens provide hot meals for the hurricane survivor
s.

  As night falls, the city streets become filled with street hustle, people looking to make money and survive. Gangs of young men comb the streets and vacant buildings, looking for anything of value. The gangs take over the streets, looking to fight the rival gangs. The streets are wide open and ready to be taken. Most nights the rival gangs fight it out in the streets for something to do.

  Rose is not sure of the exact day but knows it is July. The heat in humidity in New Orleans during the day is overwhelming. The sun beats down on her back while she waits in another endless line. She is standing in front of a small elementary school. The cardboard sign with black sharpie writing on the front of this building reads, Free Soup Kitchen. Her stomach groans, reminding her she has not eaten since lunch time yesterday. She inches up in the line a little.

  There is a window in the building next to her. She looks at her reflection and sees her long, dark hair. Her T-shirt is ripped and torn. The jeans she is wearing are dirty and loose-fitting. Canvas sneakers with no socks let small rocks sneak in the ripped sides and worn bottoms. Her body was lean and healthy; but is now unhealthy and skinny. She has not been able to take care of herself for a while now. She is scared all the time. She has been praying for Blake to find her. She lowers her head and closes her eyes. Hail Mary full of grace….

  Getting inside the building and out of the sun while she eats her free meal is a welcoming thought. Stepping inside the building, she follows the line into the cafeteria until she sees the large stack of trays. She takes one tray off the top. A couple of people have disagreements and start to fight. Some people shout, step in and break up the fight quickly.

  She turns her head and looks the other way. While she waits for her turn, she turns her attention to the television mounted on the wall and listens to today’s latest news. She listens to the smartly dressed newswoman say: New Orleans has started its recovery. There are businesses opening and shelters in place for people to eat and sleep. “Put your tray up here, honey,” the food server with a Cajun southern accent says,tapping the top of the counter with a large metal spoon.