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by E. L. McKenzie


  Nick did not wait for a response. He hopped in the car, started it, put it into gear, and drove to the closest full-service car wash. For fifty dollars the manager agreed to have a mini detail to clean up the mess. The smell of vomit would linger for weeks, reminding Nick each time of Jimmy Swindell’s sad life.

  Nick was trying to clear a cold case, the murder of a twenty-one-year-old woman back in 1977. At the time of her death, Melissa Sitton had been a bartender and cocktail server at Dewey’s, a local watering hole popular among the blue-collar workers at the refinery across the street. When she did not show up for work two days in a row, the manager called in for a welfare check. She was found dead in her apartment, the victim of strangulation. Foreign matter was found underneath her fingernails and retained. In 1977, DNA evidence was still science-fiction, but law enforcement understood the day would come when analyzing it would be possible. Detectives at the time did a superb job of saving that and all evidence found at the scene.

  At the time of her death, Ms. Sitton’s friends told detectives she was simple, carefree, and enjoying life. She dated extensively, enjoying her youthful freedoms and various romantic encounters. A lovely, intelligent, and thoughtful young woman, she simply was not ready to settle down. All her suitors were considered persons of interest, and the file Nick looked at suggested it was highly likely the murderer had been one of them for two reasons. There was no forced entry, and there was no evidence of a robbery. This was a crime of passion.

  When Nick found the DNA evidence in the case file two months earlier, he sent it off to the lab for testing. Given its low priority, it would take weeks for a result. It would then be submitted to the Combined DNA Index System, CODIS, for matching. But Nick would only get a hit if the perpetrator was in CODIS for other crimes. In the meantime, he decided he would shake the trees a bit. He tracked down all of Melissa Sitton’s known suitors at the time.

  Of the thirteen interviewed, five were now deceased. If he did not find his murderer among the remaining eight, he would turn back to these five after DNA results came back. Five of the remaining eight had criminal records, meaning their DNA would be in CODIS. Nick decided to start with the other three.

  He first visited Greg Scott. Mr. Scott had worked at the refinery his entire career, retiring two years earlier. Married with three daughters and multiple grandchildren, he was the picture of middle-class success and courtesy when Nick introduced himself. His wife, likewise polite, dismissed herself after introductions.

  Scott spoke openly about his recollection of the crime. “That was one of the worst days of my life when I found out she had been murdered. We did not have an exclusive relationship, but I really cared about her. She was about as nice and decent a person as I have ever met. I’m glad you are looking into this. I do hope you find who did this. It’s been way too long, but still some justice would be good.”

  “Do you have any ideas about who might have done this?” Nick asked.

  “I don’t. You can go back and see what I said to detectives back then, and maybe it would refresh my memory a little bit. It did not make sense. It sounded to me like somebody got pissed in the moment. But I have no idea what happened.” Law enforcement had not shared with the media or anyone other than her immediate family the specifics of her death.

  Before he rose to leave, Nick asked, “Mr. Scott, would it be okay if I got a DNA sample from you?”

  Scott froze for a moment, then smiled. “You have DNA evidence? That’s outstanding. Absolutely you can have mine.” As Nick swabbed Scott’s mouth, he knew this was not the killer.

  “I’ll have another one, Bill.” Nick tapped his drink glass on the bar, his ubiquitous signal for one more double Wild Turkey and Coke. The bartender poured silently and presented Nick with another glass of liquid courage.

  “I do think the Buffs have a chance next year,” Nick said. “This new kid looks like the real deal. I know everyone says we will never return to the McCartney era, but I think we will get there. CU moving to the PAC 12 made a lot of sense.” Concentrating on not heading down the dark path of his life, he unconsciously inhaled his unlit cigarette, a new habit brought about by the ever more restrictive smoking ordinances in Denver.

  “You think so?” Bill responded. “I sort of think McCartney was special, and we won’t see those days again. But I hope you’re right.”

  “There is no doubt Coach McCartney would make a difference. He really is a special guy.”

  “I can’t remember. Did you play for him?”

  “No. He recruited me. But he left before I got there. That is a great disappointment in my life, that I didn’t get to play for Coach Mac.”

  Nick had started at safety all four years at CU. Enthusiasm notwithstanding, lack of size or speed precluded an NFL career.

  March in Denver can go either way weather-wise. This week, it had gone the bleak route. Cold and windy, the skies were ominous. Snow enveloped the distant peaks, lending an air of certainty to the gray clouds threatening snow. Nick’s mood matched that of the day—bleak and dreary.

  “One more, Bill.” The bartender poured knowingly, shaking his head.

  At 3:30 in the afternoon, Nick should have been working one of the cold cases sitting on his desk. Instead, he ambitiously attacked his fifth drink, quickly finding the burning numbness that barely kept the pain at bay.

  “Do you think they’ll make a bowl game?” Bill asked.

  “Hard to say. They were close last year. Our quarterback is going to be a senior, so he’s experienced. And we were lucky that running back from Denver East, Micky Bennett, decided to stay in town. I like our chances.” Nick could talk for hours about Colorado sports, and particularly the two football favorites – his CU Buffs and the Denver Broncos. Bill talked sports with Nick to keep the man’s mind off weightier matters.

  “You know, Nick, I don’t think you’re quite into the Buffs the way you used to be.”

  “I don’t know if it’s an age thing or what, but it’s not the same. I still watch the games, but it doesn’t have the same meaning. After all these years of losing, it doesn’t seem so important. I don’t know.”

  “I think there’s a little more to it than that. Your work doesn’t seem so important to you, either.” Bill adjusted his apron and headed to the far end of the bar to help other patrons.

  Nick gazed into his glass and turned the world over for the thousandth time. Nothing seemed to make sense to him anymore.

  “Hi gorgeous,” Jenny McFadden said, placing a chaste kiss on Nick’s right cheek. She pulled up a stool beside him. “Drinking margaritas today?”

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m a very funny girl. And incredibly fun.” She squeezed his arm.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Nick replied.

  “Hey Jen, how ya doin’?” Bill asked from the far end of the bar.

  “Great, Bill. You?”

  “Peachy. Blended top shelf margarita?

  “Nothing but the best, thanks.” Jenny turned back to Nick. “Hey, you, how’s this day going?”

  “You know, I don’t know when it gets better. I am so sad. I can’t seem to escape.”

  “I know, sweetheart. You just have to deal with it in your own time and in your own way.” She gently tapped the drink glass with her right index finger, leaving her left hand resting lovingly on his shoulder. “You just have to be careful you don’t create more problems along the way.”

  Nick flinched. She was right, and he knew it. And she never lectured or judged. Only occasionally she would remind him of the world still ahead of him.

  Nick knew Jenny cared for him without bounds. She had been the one constant for him during the most difficult three months any man should face. Her faith in him never wavered. He did not know if she loved him, but he knew she had to be a part of his life from now on. She was part of him.

  “I know you’re right, it’s just hard,” Nick replied, tightly clinching the only true solace he could find—the whisky, not the
girl.

  The television in the corner seemed to blare. Nick and Jenny both fixed their attention on it as the Governor prepared to speak. A collective groan emanated throughout the bar.

  “This is Gloria Gonzalez reporting live from the State Capitol, where the Governor is about to address a joint session of Congress. Taking the podium now is Gary Knight, founder and Chief Executive of Denver-based Coalition of Values, and a good friend of the Governor.”

  On the screen, Gary Knight waited until the applause subsided. “Thank you, thank you. It is my great honor to have the privilege of introducing a man who really requires no introduction. I have known James McFadden for more years than either of us would like to admit. This is a man of unquestioned intellect and integrity, a man who stands for what is best for Colorado and for this great country of ours. Without further ado I give you Colorado’s native son, my good friend, a fine man, and the leader of the great state of Colorado, Governor James McFadden.”

  Addressing an informal, televised joint session of Colorado’s Congress, along with invited guests and media, the Governor was greeted by a standing ovation from Representatives, Senators, and supporters of his partisan persuasion. He shook Knight’s hand vigorously at the podium. Smiling, he waited for the ovation to dissipate before he started.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of Colorado, I am pleased to announce today I have signed into law the new Colorado Values package. Working closely with your Congressmen and Women and your Senators, we have produced legislation that will put Colorado at the forefront of one of the most pressing issues in our country today, moral values. With this legislation, we now take the moral high ground, and we believe other states will quickly follow suit. As you know, eleven other states have similar legislation pending, and I believe most will follow our leadership.”

  The Colorado Values legislation polarized the state’s populace. On the far right, those that would legislate morality were thrilled with this hawkish legislation. Looking to make a mark on the national scene, the Governor and those following him were tackling head-on liberal agenda issues. This legislation made gay marriage, same-sex rights, marijuana, and abortion illegal. But the legislation went further, tightly defining pornography and making distribution thereof illegal, stiffening punishments for so-called victimless crimes, such as prostitution, solicitation, and minor drug offenses, and providing strict parameters to allow what opponents contended was censorship of all sorts of media.

  “With this legislation,” the Governor continued, “I am proud as the leader of Colorado to say that we are taking back this state for our children, and leading the charge for other states to take back this nation. Like our founding fathers, we stand for what is good, and right, and just. We will lead, we will do what is right, we do have the courage, and we will not be deterred from our appointed task.” The last sentence could barely be heard over the standing ovation he was receiving. Tall, fit, tan, and distinguished, the Governor smiled almost uncontrollably as he lapped up the accolades from the audience.

  After droning on for some time, he concluded. “Thank you, and good night.” The Governor left the stage, shaking hands down the aisle as he exited.

  “Jesus, what an asshole,” was all Jenny could say, shaking her head and looking down.

  “Well now we can all be more moral. I’m glad to see your daddy leading the charge,” Nick sarcastically added.

  Jenny groaned.

  “Here you are, young lady,” Bill said, presenting her with the frozen green concoction. “Sorry I was slow. I got caught up in that riveting speech, one to make any daughter proud.” He smirked, turned on his heel, and headed back down the bar, leaving Nick and Jenny to their own devices. They quickly forgot about the Governor and his agenda.

  Jenny always lifted Nick’s spirits, and today was no exception. Time passed quickly as she entertained and cajoled him, and the drinks flowed more slowly, sobering Nick as the time passed.

  “I have my joke of the day for you. I know it’s stupid, but this one is really pretty funny.” Jenny always tried to insert levity, and recently she had begun searching the web to find something fun to share with Nick—and it did not hurt with her other friends, too.

  “I found this one on thebartend.com.”

  An Irishman who had a little too much to drink is driving home from the city one night and, of course, his car is violently weaving all over the road.

  A cop pulls him over. ‘So,’ says the cop to the driver, “where have ya been?”

  “Why, I’ve been to the pub of course,” slurs the drunk.

  “Well,” says the cop, “it looks like you’ve had quite a few to drink this evening.”

  “I did all right,” the drunk says with a smile.

  “Did you know,” says the cop, standing straight and folding his arms across his chest, “that a few intersections back, your wife fell out of your car?”

  “Oh, thank heavens,” sighs the drunk. “For a minute there, I thought I’d gone deaf.”

  Nick howled, as did the others around them who had filled up the bar after work.

  Later, Jenny walked Nick down to the local greasy spoon, put a burger in him to sober him up, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and had him headed home before 7:00 p.m.

  Nick and Jenny met shortly after her promotion to assistant district attorney. One of Nick’s homicide suspects also enjoyed the crime-solving attention of the young up-and-coming prosecutor.

  As they worked their closely-tied cases, they became fast friends. Never a philanderer, Nick nonetheless knew his relationship with his wife, Phyllis, was deteriorating quickly. He found the soulmate in Jenny that he was losing at home.

  Jenny similarly found Nick to be her “person,” as she told her close friends. Not one to break up a marriage or family, she allowed herself only so much intimacy – strictly limited to conversations and rare hugs – with the handsome detective.

  Intimacy can be tricky. Although neither would admit it, this strange approach to their deepening relationship was strengthened by strict adherence to their unwritten no-physical-contact rule. They were a perfect example of how a slowly developed relationship, based on friendship, common interests, and effective communication, created a stronger foundation for sustainability and longevity.

  Nick found Jenny’s exuberance and intelligence intoxicating. She found his intensity and focus unparalleled. Combined, they were a single entity, finishing each other’s sentences, laughing easily, and enjoying every moment together. Strangers meeting them could not believe they were not a couple. In private, Nick could not believe it himself sometimes.

  Tuesday ⌁ day 2

  “Lynch, can I see you a minute?” Chief Detective Phillip Bosworth’s question was more of a directive. Nick nodded, rose from his cube, and followed his boss into his office. Bosworth shut the door behind them, and they sat.

  “You okay?” Bosworth started. Nick wondered why no one had ever taught Bosworth the value of delicacy or a complete sentence.

  “I’m fine,” replied Nick. Never one for too much chatter, Nick clammed up almost entirely at work, and certainly around the extreme directness of his boss.

  “I don’t mean to have this conversation over and over, but Christ, you’re just not here, even when you’re here. I know it’s hard to measure progress, but you’re not getting anything done.” Bosworth could be extremely direct, but he was a decent guy, and Nick knew that he cared about the folks working for him, himself included.

  “Listen Chief, I know I’ve been a disappointment the last three months. I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “We don’t have to solve this today, but we do have to get there. I cannot afford to have one of my top detectives working at one quarter speed. It’s time for you to kick back in.”

  “Umm.”

  “You know I’m not the greatest manager in the world. I’m a detective, and for whatever dumb reason, they thought because I was a good detective, I could manage a whole bunch of other detectives. I don’
t know, I’m just faking my way through this. Here’s the deal. It is time for you to come out of your semi-retirement, or semi-consciousness, or whatever you want to call it. I have let you slide on cold cases for the last three months, hoping it would allow you some rehab time. Today, I am bringing you back into the fold full bore. Either you can handle it or not, but we’re going to find out.” Bosworth gazed at Nick with a neutral look.

  “What are you talking about, boss?”

  Bosworth tossed a file across the desk, and Nick grabbed it before it fell onto the floor. “This just came in. It’s a John Doe found in the Lonesome Dove Motel over on Colfax. I am sure it will be another hooker gone bad story, but you figure it out. This is a slow pitch to get you back into the game.” East Colfax Avenue was well-known throughout the Front Range as a venue for prostitution and drugs. Bosworth had handed Nick the proverbial two-foot putt.

  “Okay, Chief,” Nick replied. He grabbed the file, stood, and headed for the door.

  Bosworth said, “Hey Nick, I’ve tried to be pretty nice. Screw this up, and I’m going to fire you.”

  Nick turned back, smiling, but saw that Bosworth was dead serious. Nick slammed out of the office and returned to his desk to gather his things. Within minutes he was in the police issue Chevy Impala headed out to East Colfax and the Lonesome Dove. It was 4:15, and he would be there in fifteen minutes.

  As he turned off Monaco onto Colfax, his cell phone chirped. Checking caller ID, not necessarily his habit, he answered unenthusiastically.

  “Hi,” he said to Phyllis.

  “I’m headed to the airport,” Phyllis started. “I’m going to Milwaukee; I have to give a speech at 9:00 tomorrow morning.” Nick could tell she was not only talking to him but shuffling files or otherwise looking for something as she no doubt blasted ninety miles per hour down the interstate heading for Denver International Airport.

 

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