Moth

by Jennifer Foor

  “What does that mean? I don’t want my son getting chopped up.”

  “Dad, it’s not like that. You want this done right, don’t you? I’m sending everything off to the pathologist at the DEA. The results are now in the hands of the best people out there.”

  “You expect me to tell that to his mother?”

  I put my hand on my dad’s shoulder. He’s shocked I’ve touched him but doesn’t push it away. “I’m sure you’ve said worse to the woman.”

  “Make damn certain you prove he isn’t what they’re saying he is. This looks bad on all of us.”

  He’s retired, so I don’t see why he’d care about what anyone thinks, but who am I to judge? I’d want the same conclusion; the truth.

  Five days.

  That’s how long it takes for the pathology test to come back, and just as I suspect it’s way over the lethal dose. In fact, my brother was pumped with five times the amount it would take a non-user to die. With the evident results I know I need to stick around and start investigating the people closest to him.

  Since I’m assisting police, Stebbins has taken over the lead of the investigation. I’m not feeling like catching up, but I know I have to save face in order to get the job done without pissing off the locals.

  My brother is buried that following Monday. My dad transferred his plot he’d prepaid for in the eighties to Jamie so he’s being buried there. I’m sure he’ll use the one he bought for his wife at the time. God knows she doesn’t want to be anywhere near him in this life or the next.

  The viewing is three hours long. I stand by my father and greet people I’ve never met in my life, each one becoming a suspect in his murder. I’m introduced to several guys who were his roommates. I’ve already done background checks on them, and surveillance on the house they all share. They’re your stereotypical nerds as one might say. Two have thick glasses and greasy hair. All of them are sporting button up small plaid shirts and dark trousers, the same ones I’ve seen them wearing each day. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about these guys. They all attend school full time and have jobs. None of their bank accounts give me any reason to believe they’re using or distributing. I’ve already checked them off the list of possible accomplices or the person who killed him.

  Everyone coming into the funeral home is dressed in black. I peer down at my Chuck Taylors and wonder if my father has noticed them. At this point I don’t give a damn what he might think of my attire. The shit has seriously hit the fan and I need to remain focused. Back in the day I was a damn good detective. It’s time I use some of my knowledge to bust a fat hole in this case. Maybe if I can find the source I’ll be able to lead it back to how it got into the country in the first place.

  The traffic for the viewing is constant. I meet several of Jamie’s teachers and even recognize some neighbors. It isn’t until twenty minutes before the viewing is over when a female walks inside looking to be out of place. She’s petite with an olive complexion and huge brown eyes. Her long dark hair appears to be naturally wavy and when she saunters toward us it bounces around. She’s wearing a black skirt that comes up above her knees, and it’s pretty darn tight. I can already tell from the front that I’m going to enjoy checking out the back. She’s got on a tall pair of heeled boots and a button up sweater that shows off more of her perfect figure. If my brother was hitting it, he was one lucky son of a bitch. She’s sexy as shit, and damn she smells like heaven on earth. If I would have met her anywhere else I’d be on it like a fly to a pile of manure.

  When she reaches my father she offers a hug. I’m not surprised he allows it. She’s a looker. If he has erectile dysfunction she could solve the problem.

  When it comes to my turn for acknowledgment she skips me over and offers condolences to Jamie’s mother. She never gives me a second’s glance. I’m shocked, and my ego is a bit taken back. I’m not used to being ignored and I don’t care for it one bit. My father leans over and whispers something. “Maybe if you gave yourself a trim every once in a while women wouldn’t look the other way.”

  In the midst of tragedy I smile. He has no idea how popular my brawly look is to the exotic women I enjoy spending my free time with. “She hugged you because you’re Jamie’s father and she was his girlfriend. Don’t pretend it’s anything more.”

  “Girlfriend? Jamie wasn’t dating anyone.”

  Red Flag.

  I didn’t know my brother well enough to be sure he wouldn’t keep certain aspects of his life hidden from good ole dad. The man wasn’t the perfect example of a gentleman. If he had it his way he’d give them a pinch on the ass when they offered a friendly hello. He was a pervert by nature. I assume spending his whole life in the military left him unable to see that women weren’t just good for cooking, cleaning, and having children. He’s prejudice like that.

  “Sorry. I misunderstood.” I offer him a simple explanation to keep him from questioning the girl. If she is in fact the one who discovered my brother’s body, but she isn’t his girlfriend like she told police, then who the hell is she? It takes everything I have in me not to question her there on the spot. Instead, I watch her every move. My eyes don’t leave her the entire time she walks up to the open casket and stands there staring down at his cold, dead corpse. I look for signs. How are her emotions? Is she showing remorse? Does she appear heartbroken, or is she there to make sure he’s definitely unable to reveal the secrets she and her accomplices want buried?

  I realize she’s just a small proportioned female who is probably innocent, but I have to make sure. I can’t let a simple misled judgment cost someone else their lives. The message from Alizar was clear. He said he’d go after my family. The only person I have left is my father. My mom is still alive, but she’s halfway across the globe living a life as if I didn’t exist. She’s changed her name twice and last I heard lives in some remote location without running water like a hippie. She’s probably in a nudist colony. I have no idea what being married to my father did to her, but she’s been fucked up ever since.

  I don’t approach the female as she makes her way toward the exit. It’s important I blend in with the crowd. She doesn’t notice me, which gives me an advantage. When I know she’s probably made it to her car I peek out the window and search. I can see her standing by a vehicle while on her cell phone. She seems distraught, but she’s not exactly crying. Before she gets in and drives away I memorize her license plate. It’s the perfect start to looking into who she could be affiliated with, if she’s not the owner. If she is, at least I’ll have an address for her without using the police for information.

  With the funeral only one day away I decide it’s best to wait until it’s over before I start investigating the life of Windy Lewis. I’m hoping it’s a dead end and that my dad was just out of the loop when it came to my brother, but I’ve been wrong before, and after what happened in Guatemala, I can’t take risks and assume anything.

  I’ve never been one to understand the reasoning behind viewings and funeral services where people stand over a dead hallowed out body and talk to the person as if they can hear them. Even if they could, they’re no longer in that body. It’s odd. Absurd even. How I want to say goodbye to my brother would be to climb out on the roof and drink a bottle of our dad’s hidden stash of bourbon. I’d like to spread his ashes into the beautiful abyss somewhere in the middle of the ocean. It’s beautiful and the way I’d want to go. I don’t want to be buried six feet under the ground where cold hard dirt keeps the sunlight from getting to me. It’s morbid.

  At any rate, I have to respect my father’s wishes. He’s holding it together, but I’ve never seen him so distraught. Don’t even get me started on Jamie’s mother. She’s a mess. Every time I see her she’s got a handful of tissues and swollen eyes. Jamie died too young. It’s horrible, and nothing I say could ever make them feel better, so I say nothing at all.

  Watching people I know grieve reminds me of why I live alone. I don’t wear my emotions on my sleeve, nor do I wan
t to. I’m not saying I’m heartless. It’s a damn shame my brother is gone, but he wouldn’t want us miserable because of it. He’d want me to go out there and find the mother fucker who did this and make sure they pay for it.

  That’s exactly how I intend to morn my brother.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve had to iron anything. No matter how many times I run the steaming machine over my pants they’re still coming out with lines. Finally I give up. Frankly I don’t give a damn what they look like. It’s kind of like my father checking my bed when I was a kid. If it wasn’t military grade pristine, he’d rip off the blankets and sheets and make me redo it again. Once I did it four times. If he was attempting to teach me a lesson, he did. I learned to never want to put a flat sheet on my bed again. When I buy a set I throw that one in the trash immediately. They haunt me, and they’re useless.

  My father meets me at the front door only to look me up and down and shake his head. “Did you forget your shoes?”

  I lift up one foot. “Nope. These are my nice ones.”

  “You do this stuff to piss me off, don’t you?”

  “No,” I lie. “I do it because I’m comfortable, and that’s what’s important to me. Look don’t get on me about what I’m wearing. We both know why I’m here.”

  He starts to say something but refrains. “You’re right. Today needs to be about Jamie.”

  It’s no secret I’m not the favorite son. I’m sure he wishes it was me in the casket. I’m the one with the life-threatening job. I’m constantly in harm’s way. Not that I’ve done anything terrible in my life, but he’s never been one to be proud of my accomplishments, no matter how much I’ve done for my country. He’s a hard man, but for some reason he’s always been fond of Jamie. I think it’s because he actually loved his mother, in his own strange way of course. He still took her for granted and treated her like shit. That’s why she left him and never looked back. At any rate, he spoke about Jamie whenever I got around to calling and checking up on him. I think I always knew Jamie was around in case the old man needed something. Now he was alone again. It’s obvious he knows the responsibility falls back to me, and he most likely assumes I’ll leave him for dead before ever considering to take care of his grumpy ass.

  He might have been a stern parent with no real idea how to raise a child, but he kept a roof over our head and taught us to be respectful. In this day and age that is hard to come by.

  Of course I volunteer as a pallbearer. I never thought I’d be carrying my little brother to his early grave. I have to keep clenching my jaw and thinking about work to keep my mind from allowing me to display emotions I refuse to admit are lingering. I hate listening to the sounds of his mother and aunts sobbing and sniffling. My father remains silent, even as the pastor says his last prayers and finalizes the ceremony.

  I wait for the crowd to clear before standing over my brother’s casket. It’s a burgundy color with dark pewter lines throughout. I think he would have liked it, but what do I know? He was basically a stranger.

  I place my hand on the top. It’s cold from the tent keeping the sun off of it. “Brother, I promise I’m going to punish whoever did this to you. I may not have been around to save you, but I’ll be damn sure they suffer an equal fate. I’m sorry I never reached out to you, man. I guess the apologies are a day late and a dollar short. I’ll keep up with dad too. You have my word. I’ll be seeing ya on the other side.” I tap the casket twice and back away. For a moment I can feel my eyes beginning to burn. I have a lot of regrets. Maybe if we were closer in age it would have been easier to bond with him. Now it’s too late for what ifs. Nothing will bring him back. Not even justice.

  Chapter 5

  Windy Teresa Lewis is a twenty five year old graduate of the University of Pennsylvania. She’s enrolled at the same Virginia school my brother went to in order to obtain a graduate degree. It’s nearly an hour from where my father resides. The day after the funeral I grab my things and hit the road. I have a full copy of Jamie’s police report, including the information I’ve gathered on Windy and the rest of the people he associated with, including his teachers, his science teachers more to the point. I’m not ruling out anyone until I’ve investigated their lives fully.

  I no sooner find a hotel to work out of when I get a call from my director. I see his name on the screen of my phone and wince before answering. “Agent Douglas.”

  “I’ve been looking over the crime scene photos. What new information do you have for me so far?”

  “I just arrived near the campus. I’m getting settled into a room and then heading back out.”

  “Can I make a suggestion without you going all batshit crazy on me?”

  I shrug, though I know he can’t see me. “Sure.”

  “Blend in, Moth. You’re dealing with young people who are going to assume you’re trouble. You can’t walk around looking like Tarzan. Cut the hair. Shave the face. Look the part of a college student.”

  “I’m not going to be here that long.” I say.

  “Actually, we’d like you to stick around for a while. I’m considering sending House and Renner your way in the next week. We can get you set up somewhere nearby so you can work. I want to know how they’re transporting, where it’s coming from, and who the distributor answers to.”

  “So I’m being demoted?”

  “Let’s just say it’s a time out. No one is blaming anyone or cutting your pay. We’re just giving you a change of scenery. If this pans out to be nothing, you’ll know before the other guys make the trip. I’m giving you free reign to find out who did this to your brother, Moth. If anything, that should make you want to stay.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Who’s running Guatemala?”

  “Renard. He wasn’t thrilled about it either.”

  I laugh. Renard is getting old. He’s gotten comfortable running things from his desk. To be sent out into the field is probably hell for him. “Wow, who did he piss off?”

  “Who doesn’t he piss off? The guy is a dick. I wish he’d retire.”

  “I want my old post back, John.” Saying his first name makes it more personal. “I need to know that once I’m done with this I’ll be able to return to Guatemala.”

  “Keep me in the loop on what you find. I want daily updates, even if it’s an email. You got me?”

  “Yeah, I hear you loud and clear.”

  When we hang up I’m seriously annoyed. I’m being punished and it pisses me off. Since there’s nothing I can do about it, I decide to focus on what I can change. I need to solve my brother’s murder, and in order to do that I’m going to have to dive right in.

  Windy Lewis works at Apple Pharmaceuticals. She’s got a bachelor’s degree in Science, but I’m not sure exactly what she does for a living. At night she takes more courses to earn her graduates degree. Her bank statement is clean of any kind of criminal activity. She has damn near perfect credit. Her car is a hunk of junk, and she’s up to her eyeballs in student loan debt. Her apartment is on a poverty stricken side of town, and according to her spending habits, she’s hard up for cash.

  This is not the type of person involved in a billion dollar heroin business, but just to be sure I still decide it’s best to follow her.

  I learn the hours of operation at the company she works for. I go through her car once she’s in the building. Like every female I’ve ever met, her vehicle is filled with unnecessary items, including bags of trash, old water bottles, and a few changes of clothes. I do find a few receipts where she paid for more food than she could ever eat herself. I wonder if the other person dining with her could have been Jamie, so I cross reference his bank statement to see if maybe he went to the same places.

  Sure enough I find a few matches, but campus life is predictable. Most kids hang out at common spots. This doesn’t mean they were involved sexually. I need to dig deeper, but I’m at a loss as to how to do it.

  After finally getting some much needed sleep, I wake up the next morning with a fresh hea
d. I know what I need to do to make this work, and it’s going to take some time in the bathroom, and a whole lot of flashing my badge around the campus for it happen.

  Stepping into a salon seems like a new experience to me. I’m convinced this is a terrible idea, but necessary if I want to get anywhere with this younger crowd of people. Before this happened I assumed I was still pretty damn cool. I’m only in my thirties, I take care of my body, and I’m determined I can solve any problem there is to face.

  Two women are standing at their booths when they spot me entering. Both give me a once over, probably because I look like a bum. I offer a wave of surrender. “I’m looking to get a haircut.”

  They both burst into laughter before the furthest one away, the blonde with the fakest set of tits I’ve ever laid eyes on walks in my direction. Her co-worker, an African American woman with shiny bone straight hair shakes her head. “Have at that one. You couldn’t pay me to deal with that nap.”

  The blonde offers a friendly smile. “Don’t listen to Lucy. She’s, well she’s just too loose.” She’s now snickering as we pass by her friend.

  “Room to talk, hooker.”

  “Anyway, what can I do for you today?” She motions for me to sit in her chair and spins me around so I’m facing the mirror and she’s behind me. “I’m assuming you haven’t been trimmed in a while. Were you in jail?”

  Far from it. “No. I’ve been out of the country for a while. I’m looking to take it all off. High and tight on the top, and you can shave off all my facial hair.”

  “A makeover.” She claps her hands together. “Awesome. When I’m done with you this brat over here,” she points. “She’ll be jealous I get all the credit.”