One Murder Too Many

by Terrell Bowers

  Gloria cursed vehemently again. ‘Yes! A perfect location for our peeping Tom!’

  ‘Obviously,’ Tony said. Then he suggested, ‘Maybe we could dust for prints?’

  ‘Don’t be an idiot! We can’t have the police involved.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Tony wanted to know. ‘Both of our careers and marriages are on the line.’

  Gloria controlled her voice. ‘I think I know who is behind this. I checked the security log and there were only a few people in the building after hours that night. This guy is someone who would likely be up for blackmail, and he probably thinks we won’t ever suspect him.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ Tony asked.

  ‘You told me that Ernie was complaining about a troublesome parolee, one he was considering sending back to prison.’

  ‘A real gem,’ Tony said, thinking of the man his probation officer pal had mentioned. ‘Chock Lincoln. The guy was picked up with a gun the other day and has a list of crimes two pages long. He was only released because of prison overcrowding.’

  ‘Yes, I remember putting him away the last time. We dropped an assault charge and he pleaded guilty to robbery.’

  ‘If he goes back inside he’ll be there for eight more years,’ Tony said.

  ‘You think he might do us a favor to stay a free man?’

  Tony’s complexion blanched. ‘Are you thinking of using him to try and get rid of this blackmailer?’

  ‘He only has to scare him off and get back the pictures. Our blackmailer is a punk, and he’s already fifty grand richer. If a real felon threatens him, he’ll cower and run for cover like a scalded cat.’

  ‘Yeah, but….’ Tony had to swallow his fear. He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘But what if it doesn’t work?’

  Gloria scowled at the man’s weakness. ‘Look, Tony, you and I both have a lot to lose if these photos get out. I’ve already paid the blackmail demand, but I can’t hide a second expense like that from my husband. He does the bookkeeping in our family and he would start asking questions. I placed some money in a private account before we were married, in case I needed some cash of my own. But paying for those pictures about cleaned me out. The only way we’re going to be safe is to make sure no one else ever sees those pictures.’

  ‘When you paid the money why didn’t you get back the negatives?’

  ‘What negatives?’ she cried. ‘They were from a cell phone. He promised to destroy the photos, but he could have saved them to a computer, or he might still have them in the phone’s memory. There’s only one way to make sure those pictures don’t show up again. We have to frighten the creep into getting rid of the evidence and never opening his mouth.’

  ‘Whatever you say, Glory, honey,’ Tony assented passively. ‘I’ll get in touch with Ernie and have him put me in touch with Lincoln.’

  ‘We can’t tell anyone what this blackmail is about, Tony,’ Gloria warned him. ‘Neither of them can know any of the details.’

  ‘No, I won’t say anything about what we have in mind,’ Tony promised. ‘Ernie owes me for keeping his brother out of jail a few months back on a Drunk Under the Influence charge. He’ll cooperate. Then, if I offer to get the weapon charge dropped against Lincoln, the man ought to be willing to do whatever we want. Ernie won’t be any the wiser about the details.’

  Gloria picked up a piece of paper. She had already researched the information and had it ready. ‘This is the target and his address. He rooms with another guy, so tell Lincoln we want no mistakes and no trail that can lead back to us.’

  ‘What about the pictures?’

  ‘Lincoln is to thoroughly scare the hell out of the blackmailer. Then he needs to collect any phones or computers and search the place for any stashed photos.’

  ‘For something that involved, the man will probably expect payment.’

  ‘We are keeping him out of jail!’ Gloria declared. ‘However….’ She took a moment to mull over the situation. ‘Considering what we’re asking, offer him a couple thousand dollars as an additional payment.’

  ‘Do you have that much on hand?’

  ‘It will leave nothing in my private account, but yes.’

  ‘You know I’d help if I could.’ Tony again allowed the whiny tone to enter his voice, ‘but, with three kids, and my wife no longer having a job—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Gloria cut him off, sick to death of hearing about his family. ‘I know your situation.’

  ‘I’ll make a call and meet with Ernie this afternoon. With luck, he’ll put me in touch with Lincoln in a day or two.’

  ‘The sooner the better,’ Gloria told him. ‘We need a quick end to this blackmail scheme.’

  Kari looked forward to Sundays and her weekly long-distance tryst with Jason. She had gradually turned the phone calls into an intimate and quixotic ritual. Shortly before the appointed time she would don an enticing outfit, apply her makeup and add a dab of expensive perfume. With romantic music playing softly in the background and two scented candles burning, she would lounge on the loveseat with her favorite pillow. A freshly poured Pepsi-over-ice would be in a glass, perched within reach on the coffee table. Once Jason was on the line she would stare at the framed photo that Reggie, Jason’s American cousin, had taken of Jason and her, the last time the three of them had been together. Over the next hour, she would talk to Jason of work, of dreams, of wishing they were together. And occasionally, during the conversation, she would close her eyes and try to envision his smoky-gray eyes, the half-smile on his face – often from humor or subtle teasing – and his neatly shorn tawny-brown hair. With his endearing voice and words of affection in her ears, she could almost feel his arms around her.

  Most nights, after the call was over, she would get out a notepad and write him a letter. She usually sent off two or three each week, plus a number of emails, and he would do the same. Her mood was always a bit more gloomy on the days she didn’t receive one of his letters or a lengthy email.

  Presently the warmth of her thoughts from the previous night’s telephone conversation was tucked away, replaced with a nervous apprehension. Before her was a naked interview, approaching a possibly hostile subject with no forewarning and no invite. It caused a roiling within her stomach and an icy chill to cling to her spine.

  Kari pulled her car to the curb in front of the address for which she had been searching and stopped. It took a few moments, after switching off the engine, to collect her thoughts and her courage.

  ‘Come on, chicken,’ she taunted herself. ‘This was your idea!’

  Kari got out of the car, took out her pad and pencil and used the shoulder strap to secure her purse. Her heart pounded as she made her way up the narrow sidewalk, arrived at the house and rang the doorbell. This was above and beyond her job description, but the city was being overrun with drugs shipped in from another country. Someone had to do something.

  The door opened and a young white man stood there, looking slightly down at her. He was in his early twenties, handsome in a feral, sinister sort of way: dark eyes, bushy brows, a face unshaven for at least two days, with shaggy black hair that was thick and needed a strong shampoo. He wore slippers, a white muscle-shirt and Levis.

  ‘Whasup, sister?’ He drawled the query.

  Kari caught the whiff of liquor on his breath, but firmed her resolve.

  ‘I’m looking for Juno Orozco. He lives here, doesn’t he?’

  He grinned salaciously. ‘Yo, girl! If you want to party with Juno and me, you got to bring a friend. We been down since we was shorties in school – we share everything.’

  ‘I’m from the Sentinel,’ Kari said, ignoring his vulgar ogling and distasteful gangsta lingo. ‘I only want to ask Juno a few questions. Is he here?’

  ‘True-that, Miss Reporter,’ he sneered. ‘But Juno and me ain’t lookin’ to get our names lit up on some marquee.’

  Kari didn’t reply to that and he stepped back, holding the door open. She swallowed her terror and entered the a
partment, to see that Juno was busy hooking up an Xbox to a big-screen television. He paused from examining an instruction book and looked at her.

  ‘What do you want with me, lady?’

  ‘I’m Kari Underwood, a reporter for the Sentinel.’

  Juno laughed. ‘A reporter?’ Then throwing a curious glance at his friend. ‘Dom, what kind of mischief you been up to?’

  ‘Not my biznezz, brah,’ Dom gave a droll reply. ‘She come sliding up to the door askin’ fo’ you.’

  Kari explained that she was trying to connect one of the local gangs to the marijuana fields back in the hills. Also, she had been told about a link to a major cartel in South America.

  ‘Are you clowning with us?’ Juno wanted to know. ‘You ‘spect us to rat out one of the local gangs?’

  ‘I was told you weren’t actually a part of any gang,’ Kari said. ‘Your cousin is head of the Hard Corps, but you work at a garage.’

  ‘What you talkin’ about, foo?’ Dom snickered. ‘Juno and me would get balled up big time if we snitched to you.’

  Juno agreed with a smirk of his own. ‘A dude what runs his mouth don’t have a long life on the streets, reporter lady.’

  ‘’Sides that,’ Dom chimed in a second time. ‘If we wanted to sing songs of woe and blow, I could fo’ sho’ serenade the DA herself.’

  ‘DA Streisand?’ Kari was incredulous and scribbled on her pad. ‘How do you know her?’

  Dom grinned. ‘Hellfire, woman! Me and the lady is tight, though she’s too busy hitting it on the side to worry herself ‘bout little thangs like smack or some dog getting baked. You’d have better luck talking to that fizzle what shadows her.’

  She frowned her incomprehension at his slang, but jotted most of it down. ‘I won’t use any names,’ she tried again. ‘And I’m willing to pay you for any information.’

  ‘You expect to score poison pen from me on my own cousin?’ Juno was impudent.

  ‘Are you saying your cousin is involved with the cartel?’

  ‘No, I ain’t saying nuthin’ about nuthin’!’ Juno retorted. ‘What I will say, is you’re asking to get yourself strung up with your own pantyhose. What makes you think I ain’t running with the Hard Corps?’

  ‘Because Dom here works at the courthouse. Plus, his father is Judge Westmoreland. The judge wouldn’t allow his son to share an apartment with an active gang member, especially if he was tied to the drugs on the street.’

  ‘Who told you about my dad?’ Dom wanted to know, forgetting to use gangsta language.

  ‘It’s on record, being that you are an employee of the state government.’

  ‘You is a ratchet fool, lady,’ Juno spoke in a threatening tone. ‘You don’t write a word about us and we won’t tell my cousin you were asking questions. Better for you – better for us!’

  ‘But if it’s a rival gang that’s behind the—’

  Dom took a menacing step toward her, ending her inquiry. He pressed up so close that Keri was forced to back up to keep their chests from touching. His eyes could have belonged to the devil himself, wicked and full of malevolence.

  ‘You better roll, reporter lady,’ he hissed the words – in plain American English this time. ‘Or else you’re going to have to pay for this visit …’ then said meaningfully, ‘with something other than money.’

  Kari fought down the urge to run from the house screaming at the top of her lungs. Instead, she controlled her panic and backed out on to the front porch. Attempting to salvage a sliver of pride, she said, ‘If you should change your mind, any pertinent information would be worth a couple hundred dollars.’

  ‘Shizzle my dizzle, lady!’ Dom snickered, with a lecherous twist of his lips. ‘Do we look like we are beggin’ chips from some broad?’

  Before she could respond he slammed the door in her face!

  Kari was trembling from the encounter and it occurred to her that she might not be cut out for investigative field work. She wrote down the balance of what she could remember being said, including several words she didn’t know. Her heart was still racing as she walked with weakened knees towards her car.

  Although she had failed and been dismissed like an unwanted salesman, Kari’s senses still functioned. She had the queer feeling that someone was watching her. Yet a glance over her shoulder told her it wasn’t Dom or Juno.

  Upon reaching her car she put away her notebook and purposely dropped her keys. As she squatted down to retrieve them she took a quick scan of the area. Even as her fingers took hold of the keys she noticed that a car was parked on the opposite side of the road, perhaps fifty yards down the street. A man was behind the wheel, but she couldn’t make him out clearly. It wasn’t a kid, nor an elderly person – perhaps in his thirties, dark complexioned, wearing a baseball cap and dark-glasses. The car was a blue Ford Taurus that had seen better days. It had a dented front fender and was in dire need of a wash job.

  Kari climbed behind the wheel of her car and started the engine. As she pulled away from the curb she kept watch in her rearview mirror. The man did not follow her. To be certain, she turned quickly to the left, went a block, made a right turn and stopped. With her heart still beating hard and fast, she held her breath, waiting and watching.

  Nothing.

  After some moments, Kari released the air from her lungs and started her car moving again. With a last glance in the mirror to make sure no one was after her, she shook her head.

  ‘That settles it, Kari Marie Underwood,’ she said aloud. ‘You are not cut out to be investigating drug cartels all by yourself!’

  CHAPTER THREE

  THINGS HAD BEEN quiet around Sutton, so when DC Butterworth, one of two female detective constables on the force, received a call to check on a robbery, Jason offered to go along. Butterworth was used to a bit of superfluous attention from the male officers as she was quite attractive and had an amiable disposition. However, it was the first time Jason had made an offer to accompany her and she welcomed him along.

  The burglary had taken place while the elderly widow was off playing bingo, a usual occurrence the same night each week. Several items of value were taken, but the greatest loss was a rare coin collection the woman’s husband had gathered over the years. Once the victim had met them at the door DC Butterworth began listening to her tale and filling out a report, while Jason investigated the jimmied back door. There was no deadbolt or latch, only a keyed-entry single-cylinder knob with a turn button on the inside. It appeared someone had used a crowbar of some sort to break in.

  ‘I just don’t know what I’m going to do,’ he heard the aged lady sob. ‘Henry said we could use them there coins for an emergency, if the need were ever great enough. I feel as if I betrayed his faith in me, you know?’

  Butterworth consoled and questioned the woman as to who might have known about her bingo nights. Jason stopped listening when he spied a broken piece of plastic, lurking among some flowers planted next to the walk.

  Holding the piece by the edges, he turned it over and discovered it was half of someone’s bank card. It was perfectly clean, which meant it had not been lying there before yesterday’s afternoon’s shower. He glanced at the door and smiled.

  The elderly woman was still lamenting her failure to protect something so valuable. DC Butterworth caught the serious look on Jason’s face as he entered the room and stopped her from continuing.

  ‘Do you happen to know someone with the last name of Kittle?’ He posed the question to the victim.

  ‘My sister’s name is Kittle,’ she answered. ‘Her son, Mark, mows my lawn and sometimes runs errands for me.’

  ‘Does Mark know about your bingo nights?’

  The woman scowled. ‘Yes, but Mark wouldn’t do something like this. Mark is a very pleasant sort.’

  Butterworth recognized that Jason’s questions were important. She left the woman’s side and stepped over next to him.

  ‘Did you find something?’

  Jason held out the piece of broke
n plastic. ‘I believe our thief tried to use this to picklock the back door. It probably got stuck and he broke it in half. Evidently, he didn’t bother to pick up this piece, or he was in a hurry and didn’t take the time to look for it.’

  ‘Do you have an address for your nephew?’ Butterworth asked the woman.

  ‘Of course. It’s in my directory next to the telephone.’

  An hour later Mark Kittle had given up his loot and was booked for burgling his aunt’s home. Jason let DC Butterworth deal with the report and take credit for the arrest. He saw her a bit later while he was having a sandwich in the lunchroom. She greeted him with a bright smile and hurried over to join him at the table.

  ‘It was very good of you to let me be the officer of record concerning the nicking of Mark Kittle. I haven’t had the chance to earn much recognition since I became a DC.’

  ‘I’m confident you would have found the same bit of evidence once you’d finished talking to the victim.’

  They ate their lunch quietly until Butterworth ventured another query. ‘I’ve spoken to some of the others about you, gov.’ She displayed a sheepish grin. ‘Being that you are single and all.’

  Jason was uncertain as to how to reply to that, so he waited for her to continue.

  ‘I’m not in a relationship myself just now,’ Butterworth murmured, a crimson flush beginning to color her cheeks. ‘It’s not that I don’t have a number of offers, but I’m looking for something more than a good time. Know what I mean?’

  Jason realized where this conversation was headed. He smiled politely. ‘DC Butterworth—’

  ‘Hermione,’ she interrupted, giving him her first name.

  Jason continued to smile. ‘You are aware of the problems that arise with interdepartmental relationships?’

  ‘I would be willing to risk it … with the right person,’ she said pleasantly.

  ‘I haven’t told very many people, Hermione, but I am at the moment involved in a relationship.’