Lethal Invitation

by Randall Dale

  The radio hosts giggled in glee at the incompetence of the police, expressing their opinions that heads would roll inside the department.

  Edward smiled smugly as he pushed an old Fleetwood Mac CD into the slot and heard the music start. He tapped the steering wheel in time with the drum beats and absently hummed with the tune. His plan of the bullet in the backpack had been brilliant. It had been a distraction for Demetrius, although it had been much more temporary than Edward would have liked. Still, it kept the detective occupied for a time and every distraction placed in the detective’s way was a good thing from Edward’s perspective.

  The freeway opened broad and clear so he mashed the pedal and was instantly gratified at the roar of the engine. He watched the speedometer climb quickly past eighty then back off as he lifted his foot. He set the cruise control at eighty-three, just within the ten miles per hour grace speed he’d heard about, and settled in for the drive, eating chips, sipping soda and wondering what his parents would say if they knew he had killed someone. Actually, two someones. He grinned callously.

  The sun was low in the sky when he arrived home. He drove into the circular driveway of their ritzy suburban home and entered the darkened house through the front door, throwing his backpack on the couch.

  “Mom? Dad?”

  No answer, though in retrospect he’d have been surprised if anyone was home. He shrugged while walking to the kitchen to see what might be in the refrigerator.

  He sat on the couch watching a rerun of Family Feud while eating rewarmed Chinese food when he heard a car enter the garage. In less than a minute his mom walked through the kitchen to the living room.

  “Hello, Edward. When did you get home?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she hurried up the sweeping semi-circular staircase to her upstairs bedroom. She disappeared inside without another word.

  He gritted his teeth. She acted like she’d seen him this very morning, not like he’d been gone four months. A minute later he heard another car pull into the garage. His dad, even heavier than he remembered, waddled into the living room.

  “Edward. I saw your car. Good to have you home.” He reached into his vest pocket for his wallet. He opened it and pushed two hundred dollar bills to his son. “Here’s some cash. Go on and have a night on the town to celebrate the end of the semester.”

  Edward opened his palms outward in an attempt to refuse. “I don’t need… .”

  “Nonsense.” The father stuffed the bills into his shirt pocket, then turned into the hall to his bedroom on the first floor.

  Edward watched him go with a frown and wondered why he came home anyway. His parents were always gone to this or that meeting or this or that charity event. What would it feel like to have one meal with them both like when he was small?

  With no conscious effort, his thoughts turned to the Crown family and Mrs. Crown doting over her children, asking how their day had been or how things were going. He could see her touching her children with love and appreciation and how they ate meals as a family, enjoying each other’s company and laughing at their father’s silly jokes. Demetrius was also doting hugging his son and daughters for no reason than to express love. Edward shook his head, angry at the Crown family for being so perfect. They had it all. What did he have? Nothing, he decided. Nothing.

  ◆◆◆

  Friday morning at the Division building was like every other day. Detectives studying files, following leads, solving crimes and making arrests. At least that was the case for the other detectives. Demetrius sat for the umpteenth time going over the case folders. He could still feel that evasive kernel of connection, something that would tie this case up. It made no sense, but somehow he felt he was in the circle with the killer, like he’d actually spoken with him. But how could that be unless the killer was Stretch or William, but both were off his suspect list. In truth, they weren’t even persons of interest any longer.

  A soft knock came at the door. When he looked up and saw the Deputy Lieutenant, his heart sank. The moment of dread had arrived, he could see it on the Deputy’s face.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The man entered half-way into the office, his usual pleasant expression noticeably absent. “The Chief and the Lieutenant want you in the conference room.”

  Demetrius’s head dropped. No matter how much he prepared for this moment and no matter how many times Dan had reassured him that he’d done nothing that would give the Lieutenant grounds to push for dismissal, the words were still devastating.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  He knew the drill, everyone did even though occurrences of reprimand were few and far between in the Violent Crimes Division. He hoped for the best but dreaded the possibility that he’d crossed the line one too many times. If the Lieutenant pressed for dismissal for insubordination, this was undoubtedly the first of several meetings. First, there would be a meeting, this one, to determine if suspension was called for. If so, a second, follow-up meeting with peers would be convened to determine if dismissal was to be recommended, then finally a hearing before the Standards Board.

  Demetrius already had one letter of insubordination in his file. Would this be the final straw? He thought of the Lieutenant and how angry the man had been, then realized the Deputy had indicated the Chief was to be there too. That was unusual and certainly didn’t bode well. In his mind, he answered his earlier question. Yes, this might be the end.

  After placing the folder on the desk, he pushed himself up with hands on the armrests. The chair groaned in protest. He stood behind the desk for the smallest moment, postponing the march to the gallows. He looked at the Deputy. The man nodded and shrugged before turning out the door.

  Demetrius followed almost unconsciously until they stopped at the conference room door. It was a glass room but today the curtains had been pulled so no one could see inside. It made the atmosphere feel even more dark and hostile. He noticed the Deputy’s gesture to the room. With a sigh, Demetrius reached for the handle and gently pushed the door open.

  The Chief of Police, in a sports coat and tie, sat at the head of the table. He was a man Demetrius had great respect for. He’d been a real cop from way back. He had a college degree but the sheepskin wasn’t what got him to the position he was in. The Chief was a man of instinct and he’d climbed the ladder the old fashion way. From beat cop to detective to administrator, he’d been all cop and expected the same from those he worked with. He ran the department with the proverbial kid gloves stretched over iron fists. He didn’t put up with any nonsense but was a man who said what he thought and acted in all things for the good of the department.

  Two seats away, along the side of the table, sat the Lieutenant. Everything the Chief was, he was not. All he did was for his own benefit. The man glanced up with undisguised hostility. The glance was all Demetrius needed to guess the outcome of this meeting. He already had one count of insubordination in his file and the disrespectful laughing on the steps would be the last straw.

  With difficulty, Demetrius forced all expression from his face, he wouldn’t give the Lieutenant the pleasure of seeing him squirm. He entered with a nod toward the Chief and got a stern nod in return. Looking away and certain of the outcome, the big man took a seat closest to the door on the opposite side of the long table.

  No one spoke, but the Chief rose from his chair and walked toward the big detective. Demetrius cringed. Not from fear of anything physical, but at the sheer force of the man’s presence. Then he realized the Chief had only approached to tend to the door which Demetrius, because of the stress of the situation, had forgotten to close.

  The Chief resumed his seat and cleared his throat. Demetrius pried his eyes from the table to look at the man. He could take it. He was tough and he’d adopted William’s creed. No matter what happens, others still have it worse.

  He studied the man, noticing with surprise how the Chief seemed older than he remembered. Demetrius thought for a moment and realized this was the closest he�
�d been to the Chief in several years. He thought back to his first days on the force when the Chief was already a detective. By the time Demetrius made detective, the man had been promoted to administration.

  A sudden, long-forgotten memory surfaced. Demetrius had been a new cop, barely out of the academy. They were in a precinct building. For some reason, he remembered it as being dank and dark. Demetrius and Suzie marched a suspect in a rape case down the wide hall to the cell in the back. The Chief, who now sat to his left at the head of the table, sat on the booking desk with arms folded, waiting for them.

  One of the uniformed officers in a side room made a racist remark obviously directed at Demetrius as he walked by. He’d been ignoring them his whole life so he pretended not to hear, but the Chief, then just a detective, jumped from his sitting position and ran to the doorway.

  His voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper, but the words he spoke reverberated around the room. “I don’t know who said that and I don’t care, but I’ll tell you this, if I hear another slur like that, I’ll personally pin some ears and swallow somebody whole.”

  Demetrius felt an involuntary hint of a smile come to his lips at the thought. To his surprise, the Chief’s face also showed the tiniest of smiles.

  As quickly as it came it was gone and the man grew serious and dour again. “Detective Crown, you’ve been asked in today to discuss something that happened Wednesday morning. Are you familiar with the incident?”

  Demetrius glanced at the red face of the Lieutenant and with that glance, the sudden image of Barney Fyfe made another appearance on the screen of his mind. It took all his willpower to suppress a laugh, although he found himself wondering if at this point in time it would make any difference. He’d resigned himself to the fact that after this meeting he would be jobless. He forced an impassive face while looking back to the Chief. “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you say anything to the Lieutenant that might be considered insubordination?” The Chief looked at the Lieutenant then back to the big detective. Demetrius blinked as he watched. If he didn’t know better he’d swear the Chief was, with all his might, trying to suppress a grin. In seconds Demetrius knew he’d read it correctly. The corners of the man’s lips turned sharply upward and a stifled snort escaped. That’s all it took, the Chief slapped the table and hooted with abandon, joined in the uncontrolled laughing by Demetrius.

  The Lieutenant’s eyes bugged out and the veins on his neck were suddenly visible. He stood so quickly the chair rolled with a loud clunk into the wall behind. His appearance and frustration only added fuel to the fire. The Chief stomped his feet and slapped the table with unrepressed glee while Demetrius cackled and screeched with his head in his arms.

  After the Lieutenant stormed out of the room, it took two full minutes for the Chief to get himself under control. Demetrius chuckled as he watched the boss wipe his eyes with a handkerchief pulled from his coat pocket. Finally, with a sigh and one last guffaw, the Chief sat straighter in his chair.

  “I’m sorry Detective Crown. Ever since I heard about the incident, I’ve wondered what he would do. He’s a little high-strung and can’t bear the thought of being belittled in any way. I’m afraid I’ve made things worse for you.” He grinned and waved an arm in an offhand manner. “But to tell you the truth, it was worth it.” He laughed again, unrestrained and unrepentant.

  Demetrius joined for only a moment, then dabbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. He got serious and shrugged. “I think I can get a job. I’ve made some good contacts over the years. Maybe Denver or Dallas.”

  The Chief frowned. “Why might you need to find a job? There’s no reason for you to leave.”

  Demetrius studied the man. “I assumed I was getting fired.”

  The Chief shook his head and made a face. “Fired? One of our best detectives? I can tell you this, you are not getting fired.” He smiled. “This little incident could take some time to blow over and to be honest, I have to do something.” He drummed his fingers on the hardwood table. “But nothing so serious as firing someone.”

  He shrugged then pointed with his nose at the door. “He’s sure pissed off, there’s no doubt about that. If he wasn’t so full of himself he’d be able to see it was his own fault. I’ll not punish you for his mistake.”

  Demetrius licked his lips. He’d been sure that he was on his way out, so sure he even told Wanda their chances of staying in Tucson were slim. He didn’t speak, he only nodded, encouraging the Chief to continue.

  “Still, I have to do something, surely you can see that?”

  “Yes, sir.” Demetrius tried to follow. If he’d heard correctly, he wasn’t getting fired. Whatever was coming was better than that. He could handle it.

  “I’m going to allow him to place another letter in your file.” He reached into his jacket pocket and extracted one sheet of paper folded lengthwise. “It’s very basic, only mentioning disrespect but no insubordination.” The Chief grinned again. “After all, you never said a word. Isn’t that correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Demetrius took the letter from the outstretched hand. He skimmed it quickly, surprised at the brevity. It only stated something vague about willful disrespect toward a Tucson Police Department administrator. He looked up into the amused eyes of the big boss.

  “It’s only an attempt to appease the Lieutenant for the time being. I’ve already made him agree that it will be removed from your file in sixty days. Will you agree to that?”

  It didn’t take any thought. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “And Demetrius?”

  “Yes.”

  The Chief offered a genuine smile. “That letter is not nearly as severe as the one I just put into his file.” He nodded and touched the big detective on the shoulder. “Just try to stay out of his way for a while.”

  Demetrius smiled in return. “I can do that.”

  Chapter 23

  Edward shouldered his backpack and pushed the lock button on the Mustang’s remote control, listening to the brief honk acknowledging the locking of the doors. He gathered three weeks of mail from the box in the breezeway then climbed the steps to his apartment. He paused at the top of the stairs to survey the courtyard in the last light of the day. The heated pool looked inviting in the balmy, January evening. He decided a quick swim might feel good after the trip.

  The key turned easily in the door and as it opened, a disgusting smell crashed into Edward. He scrunched his brow and wrinkled his nose. “Ahhh!”

  A loaf of bread, now green and fuzzy with mold sat on the kitchen table along with a mostly empty gallon-size milk jug. The sour milk was undoubtedly the major cause of the stench in the apartment, which had been empty for the past three weeks. Beyond the cluttered kitchen table, the sink was piled high with dirty dishes. Edward threw the mail onto the couch in disgust.

  All had been clean before he drove home so he knew it was his roommate’s mess. His anger boiled. He was already in a bad mood from spending three miserable weeks in his parent’s house. He’d been looking forward to getting back to Tucson even though he hated the city. But, he decided, even Tucson was better than being home with his parents.

  He looked at the dirty dishes and the rotting food with clenched teeth and involuntarily tensed muscles in his back and shoulders. His rage was uncontrolled. He could feel the veins at his temples throbbing and there was a spasmodic shake of his head. With eyes bulging, he turned out the door. He had to get away from the room.

  Almost without thinking he went to his room where the Glock lay hidden in the bottom drawer. He held it in his shaking hands. Could he kill his own roommate?

  He shoved the gun into his waistband, then jerked the old cap from the same drawer and pulled it low on his head. The door slammed as he stormed out to jog down the steps to his car. He revved the engine hard and squealed tires leaving the parking lot.

  Driving through the streets of Tucson with the top down calmed him only enough to allow him to plan a
killing rather than rushing ahead unprepared. He continued to be furious with his roommate, but Dr. Milligan’s lecture about the mistake of killing someone you knew played in his mind. As much as he wanted to kill the thoughtless boy, he knew he could not. It simply wasn’t worth the risk.

  He remembered again the homeless man he’d taken to the desert and how the forensic guy was able to determine his true shoe size. Unbelievable. He’d been careful, extra careful, yet they still found something. He supposed he was lucky the dirt road he used that night was well enough traveled so no tire prints could be matched to his car, but he couldn’t count on luck any longer.

  He would kill tonight, he had to, if not he would go crazy—but he needed to be more careful. A Target store in a shopping center ahead caught his attention. He realized he didn’t have a pillow and he needed something to use in case his next victim needed restraining. He eased into the parking lot, careful not to invite any attention.

  Inside the store, he kept his head down, covered by the low cap in case there were any security cameras. He paid cash for a pillow and a small package of zip ties. He strolled easily to his car, feigning nonchalance, but inside the seething remained.

  Using his teeth, he ripped the plastic from the zip tie package and extracted one. It was sixteen inches long. He threaded the end through the eye just far enough, leaving a loop five inches in diameter. He jammed the button for the roof of the convertible to reset and waited only until it was close to locking before driving carefully out of the lot. Within minutes he was on the freeway on the outskirts of Tucson heading north and west. He didn’t have a particular destination in mind, he only drove. Traffic was light and it was dark with no moon. Headlights from a car in front illuminated a figure at the side of the road. Edward slowed as he got closer. A hitchhiker came into view.