Night Strike

by Rodney Mountain

  "We were up by Markie’s house," Timmy said, "We didn’t come here until his mother threw us out."

  "They came through here for ice pops and then I sent them out," the woman told Corrie, "I heard the screams a few minutes after that. With the highway back there we usually don’t notice much unless it’s a crash. Only people who go back there are the kids usually."

  "Ok," Corrie said, realizing that this was a lost cause, "If you remember anything else, here’s my card. Feel free to give us a call."

  "We will," the woman said, warming up considerably now that this was over.

  Corrie left the house quickly and walked back over to where the body was. Nick was standing there holding on to a wallet that he was studying rather intently. Corrie went over beside him and looked at it as well, noticing that a hundred dollar bill was hanging out.

  "Guess that lets out a robbery, doesn’t it?" Corrie said.

  "Yeah," Nick agreed, "Gregory R. Jeffries, age 43. According to his business card he ran an insurance business."

  "Did you run a check on him?" Corrie asked.

  "Yeah," Nick nodded, "Nothing unusual on his record, he’s fairly clean in fact. Had them run other residents at his address, he’s got a wife and a teenager."

  "I’m sure they’re going to be pissed," Corrie frowned, "Batting zero on the kids. They were out here playing war and one of them tripped over him, quite literally."

  "Isn’t that the way it always works?" Nick asked.

  "Just talked to unit 32 on the highway," Charlie said as he walked back over, "No sign of any cars on the bridge. Clear and clean."

  "Wonderful," Nick grumbled, "Any word on when the ME will get here?"

  "Ten minutes," Charlie told them, "He said you don’t have to wait around if you don’t want to."

  "Shall we go tell the Mrs.?" Corrie asked him, "Or should we wait for the ME?"

  "Let’s go see Mrs. Jeffries," Nick said, "No need to wait here. Charlie and his people can watch the scene as well as we can."

  "Not a problem," Charlie assured them, "Just bag the wallet for the ME to take with him in evidence."

  "You got it," Nick said.

  Nick spent the next couple minutes filling out an evidence bag and dropping the wallet into it.

  Chapter 2

  He and Corrie hiked back up to his car and got inside, quickly starting it up to get the air conditioning going. Corrie looked at Nick while he drove and headed towards the address given on Jeffries’ license.

  "Any guesses?" Nick asked her.

  "Not until I find out how he died," Corrie said, "Given the location and position of body, it can’t be anything but a homicide can it?"

  "I really don’t know yet," Nick shrugged, "The injuries are very strange for a homicide. A lot of contusions."

  They both thought it over as they drove in silence. The only noise in the car was the occasional sputter of the engine and the crackle of the police radio. It took them only ten minutes in the midday traffic to get to the Jeffries residence.

  "Who tells her?" Nick asked.

  "It’s your turn, big boy," Corrie smiled, "I took the last two."

  "Great," Nick sighed.

  Telling someone that his or her spouse was dead was never an easy task. Nick went up to the door and knocked on it, feeling the pang of remorse he usually did. Sometimes he figured that things were easier when he was on the other side of the fence, responsible for making the corpses instead of telling people about them. He pressed the doorbell and waited for a few minutes until someone answered the door.

  "Yes?" a voice came from inside.

  "Police ma’am," Nick said, "Is this the Jeffries residence?"

  "I’m Cathy Jeffries," the woman said, opening the door, "Did you find that no good son of a bitch I call a husband?"

  "Ummm…" Nick said, not sure how to take this, "What do you mean?"

  "Well he didn’t show up last night to piss me off," Mrs. Jeffries said, "I figure that means he either found a blonde or he’s dead. I really can’t bring myself to care which at this point. Seeing as you’re here, it’s gotta be the latter."

  Nick and Corrie just looked at each other, stunned by the cavalier attitude towards her husband’s death. They were not certain how to proceed with this, especially since it was likely a murder.

  "Your husband’s body was found a little over an hour ago," Nick said, finally recovering a little, "We’re not quite sure as to the true cause of death yet."

  "Probably at that little motel on highway ten," she sputtered, "He didn’t do much to hide the fact that he was banging his little secretary there."

  "We found him near an overpass on highway ten," Corrie said, "We think he was murdered."

  That got the woman’s attention. She had assumed that it was something mundane and ordinary that had killed her husband. The look on her face softened, not because of any newfound caring over his death, but in the realization of just how bad life in a murder investigation would be.

  "Don’t look at me," she said finally, "I had no reason to kill him. He was worth more alive than dead. He had his toys, I have the pool boy."

  "Sounds like a lovely marriage," Corrie said sourly.

  "Greg was an asshole," the woman said, "I found that out about a week after the wedding. I was pregnant and couldn’t afford not to marry him, though. I can’t say it’s all bad. I go my way, he goes… went… his. He usually at least shows up once a day, which is why I figured something happened. Did someone rob him or what?"

  Corrie noticed a teenager sitting in the other room, looking at the display with distaste. She nodded at him and he looked away, obviously trying not to listen to his mother very much. Nick looked at her and tried to think of something else to ask.

  "Do you have any idea who might have wanted to kill him?" Corrie asked hopefully, "Any major enemies or anything?"

  "I think that anyone who ever spent more than an hour with Greg would be happy to see him dead," Cathy Jeffries said, "As to who would take care of it? I have no idea. Let me know if you find out. I’ll buy him dinner before you arrest him."

  "If it’s a him," Corrie said coldly.

  "Whatever," Cathy shrugged, "Do I need to go identify him?"

  "Not yet," Nick said, "You’ll be notified."

  "I’ll be here," Cathy Jeffries smiled and then winked at Nick, "You can find me in the hot tub if you like…"

  Corrie glared at the woman and Nick could only inwardly cringe. He knew that he had to get them away from there before Corrie blew a gasket, however.

  "I’ll keep that in mind," Nick said, "Let’s get back to the crime scene, Corrie."

  Chapter 3

  They walked away quickly, Corrie’s eyes still showing the anger inside. The only thing that saved Nick from having to take a tirade from Corrie was the appearance of the teenager she had seen inside the house coming out and rushing over to talk to them.

  "Excuse me!" the kid said, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

  "You must be Greg Jeffries son," Corrie said.

  "Greg junior," he nodded, "I would like to apologize for my mother’s reaction to the news."

  "I take it there was little love lost between them," Nick said, grateful for the intervention.

  "Understatement of the year," Greg Jr. told them, rolling his eyes, "She’s right about Dad being a prick, but he wasn’t the worst man around. He never hit us or anything, just never really gave us any slack."

  "I wonder why," Corrie said, her eyes still angry, but calming, "Do you think she had anything to do with it?"

  "And stop the money supply?" Greg said, "No. She’s happier just doing the pool boy when she thinks we’re not around."

  "Do you know of anyone who would want to kill him?" Nick asked him.

  "Not off hand," Greg told them, "He sold insurance. It’s not like he had anything to do with the claims, just sold it outright. From what I know he was scrupulously honest at it."

  "All
right," Corrie said and handed him a card, "If you think of anything we should know, call us, ok?"

  "You got it," he said as he walked away, "Again, sorry you had to see that."

  Nick shook his head and opened the old car door, sliding in and enduring a quick stare from Corrie. He shrugged and smiled at her, starting the clunker and listening to the engine backfire as he shifted it into gear.

  "I’ll keep it in mind, huh?" Corrie said mockingly.

  "I had to say something to keep from retching," Nick grinned.

  "Right," Corrie said, paused, and then started laughing.

  Nick decided as they headed back to take a drive up onto the highway ten overpass right by where the body was found. Corrie pulled the cracked magnetic flashing light out of its spot on the floor and put it onto the roof of the car when they pulled over to the shoulder.

  "You think he was thrown from up here?" Corrie asked him as they got out and looked around.

  "It makes sense," Nick said, "This has to be at least seventy feet up. If he was thrown it would be logical that he’d have made it forty feet or so."

  "He would have had to have been thrown pretty well," Corrie said as she looked over, "The tree cover is pretty thick."

  "There are some broken branches through there," Nick said, "And the remains of a tire down the bridge."

  "Who’s that up there?" a voice came from down below.

  "Nick and Corrie," Nick yelled, "Is that you, Charlie?"

  "Yeah," Charlie shouted, "You might want to look for signs of a hit and run. The ME is here and said that his foot has a tire track on it."

  "That’s all?" Corrie yelled.

  "Some of the contusions are consistent with a low speed car hit," Charlie shouted up, "It’s just a guess right now, but he’s guessing that the fall killed him."

  "So he did come from up here," Nick said to himself then shouted again, "Charlie! Do you see any blood on any of the branches down there?"

  "There’s a dark spot on one about fifteen feet up," Charlie yelled, "Could be blood."

  "Thanks!" Nick yelled.

  "What do you think," Corrie asked him.

  "If it’s a hit and run," Nick said, "What the hell is he doing here?"

  "And where is his car?" Corrie said, "He has a blue Ford Expedition registered to him…"

  "We find the car," Nick said as Corrie walked over to look at the tire pieces, "We find the killer, probably. It’s probably some sick so and so…"

  Corrie had tuned him out at this point. She was looking at the tire pieces closely, checking the brand. She remembered the furor last year over the firestone tires on the Expeditions. The shredded remains looked like they could be one of those tires, especially since they were too big for a standard car.

  "You find something," Nick asked her, seeing the look on her face.

  "Shit," Corrie said, looking down the road, "Are there any scratches where you are?"

  Nick looked at her and then looked at the concrete side of the overpass. There were indeed some scratches, some heavy blue scratches. He was not quite sure what she was up to at this point, but he nodded and pointed them out to her. She walked over and looked at the road closely near the paint scratches.

  "Did it rain last night?" Corrie asked him.

  "You slept through the thunderstorm," Nick told her, "I was online at the time."

  "Son of a bitch," Corrie smiled, "Let’s take a quick walk."

  Nick wasn’t quite sure what Corrie was up to, but followed her as she walked down the steep incline. The overpass was not one for a road but a raised area that had been constructed as a compromise to allow them to expand highway ten to four lanes without noise going to the neighborhood a few hundred yards away. The incline was steep and right before it was a curve.

  "What are you thinking, Corrie?" Nick asked her as they started walking faster.

  "We’ll find out in a minute," Corrie said, "Follow me."

  They ended up jogging down to the end of the incline and Corrie smiled as she looked down into the trees. Over the edge of the curve was a deeper incline that went into the woods. Corrie looked down and then looked over at Nick, who looked down the edge in shock.

  "You’re kidding me," Nick said, "How did you know?"

  "The tire and scratches," Corrie said, "They were all that was left after the storm."

  They both stared down at the wreck of a shiny blue Ford Expedition, which just happened to be missing its front passenger side tire. They spent a few minutes looking and then Corrie jogged back up to where she had seen the paint scratches.

  "So what happened?" Nick asked, "I think you’ve worked it out."

  "He blew a tire on the curve," Corrie said, "Probably ignored last year’s recall and it finally caught up with him. He pulled over on the overpass to change the tire."

  "Ok," Nick said, "I’m with you so far."

  "He went back to pull out the jack and then noticed the tire fragments that were thrown," Corrie said as she went over by the edge, "I don’t know exactly what happened to him then, but I’m guessing that he forgot to set the brake correctly."

  "So that huge thing started rolling," Nick said, looking out at the thick branches.

  "And it smacked him," Corrie nodded, "He may have even jumped, thinking that it was a lot less of a distance than it was."

  "He was in for a surprise," Nick said, "He whacked through a bunch of the trees and landed where he did for the kids to find today."

  "And that damned SUV rolled off the highway," Corrie said, "That motel his wife was talking about is right up the road. He was probably on his way home late in the evening."

  "Or in the day," Nick said, "This isn’t the most used overpass in the area. It’s possible that this could have happened in the middle of the afternoon and nobody would have noticed it."

  "If those kids hadn’t run across him he could have been there for days and nobody would have known," Corrie sighed, "There was no murder at all. He’s just the victim of a stupid accident."

  "Too bad," Nick grinned, "I would have enjoyed arresting that woman."

  "I bet," Corrie growled.

  All Nick could do after that was laugh his ass off. He knew he had a story to send the Darwin Awards that night.

  Stone's Justice

  One of the early third person shorts, done between Undercover and The Killer Strikes. It is more a character play and shows my personal feelings about child molesters.

  Mason does in this short what I think all of us would love to see done to a child molester at some point in time.

  This was written before I had kids, but having them now makes me agree with the sentiment more. Good Riddance to bad rubbish.

  -Rodney Mountain 7/29/11

 

  Chapter 1

  Mason Stone nervously smoked a cigarette as he waited for Karen and Jim to show up with the truck. He had been watching the target for two days and was getting antsy to get this over with. He also felt very exposed standing outside as their target was getting comfortable inside the house.

  Mason didn’t have to wait long before Karen and Jim showed up in the little white utility truck that they’d been using for this job. They parallel parked it across the street from where Mason was standing. He walked over and blew out a line of smoke as Entragian rolled the window down.

  "Took you long enough," Mason told them, "You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago."

  "Traffic," Karen said, "Is the son of a bitch in the house?"

  "He got in twenty minutes ago," Stone said, "I followed him in on foot."

  "Are we sure he’s our guy?" Karen asked, "The kid is not the best witness."

  "DNA test confirmed it," Jim told them, "He’s the one who raped the kid. No doubt about it."

  "Too bad the test was illegal and wouldn’t hold in court," Mason said, "I guess we have to do this the hard way."

  "I still don’t like it," Karen said, "We’re not a jury."

  "This scum
is a baby raper," Jim said, "He’s getting off easy."

  "The operation is a go," Mason nodded, "That kid will never heal totally, but if this creep is out of the picture then the kid has a fighting chance."

  "Besides," Jim said, "If this plan works, we won’t be doing anything. He’ll do it to himself."

  "Let’s go," Karen said, "Let’s get it over with."

  "How do we go in?" Jim asked him.

  "We knock," Mason said, "Simple as that. Have the laptop ready, Jimbo?"

  "Ready to rock," Jim said, "Let’s get it on."

  The three of them went up to the house and let Mason take the lead at the door. Mason knocked slowly and with purpose. Karen, who was better with weapons than Jim was, kept her hand in her jacket ready to pull her pistol. Jim stayed in the back carrying the equipment that they intended to use.

  "Yeah?" Bob Parnell asked through the crack in his door, "What do you want?"

  Bob Parnell was a middle-aged man, not particularly remarkable in any sense. He looked like anyone you would see in any office building, almost respectable in fact.

  The differences came out when you found out about the man and his record. The graying hair and respectably lined face was the mask of a monster, one who had over the years preyed on countless children.

  "Police," Mason lied, though he’d done it enough times in the past to sound convincing, "I’d like to ask you some questions about an incident that happened last week."

  "Got a warrant?" Parnell asked them.

  "Do I need one to ask a few questions?" Mason asked him, remembering his old police skills.

  "So ask," Parnell said.

  "I don’t think you want me to ask these questions out here," Mason said, "But if you really want me to ask about a child’s rape…"

  "Get in here!" Parnell sneered, "This is serious bullshit, you know that?"

  "I know," Mason said, looking at Karen and Jim as they entered, "That’s what we’re here to talk about."

  "So talk," Parnell growled as he walked into the room, "I’m getting sick of this police harassment. Three of you this time. I swear, next thing I know you’ll be holding a convention here."

  "I swear to you," Mason said with a smile as he pulled out his trusted .45, "This will be the last time anyone comes to visit you on this."

  "Oh yeah?" Parnell said as he turned around and saw the gun, "What the hell is this?"