by Wayne Purdy
Hazel gasped and blended into a crowd of passing youths cutting through the field as a shortcut. As surreptitiously as possible, she took her phone out of her purse, flipped it open and snapped a photo. Then, she hurried away, using the youngsters as a blind. She hurried to a bus stop, frantically looking over her shoulder, hoping that he hadn’t seen her, that he wasn’t following her. When she was safely aboard the bus, she looked at the photo. It was James Cutler.
20
Hector
I fell into a deep sleep so immersive that I didn’t wake so much as I emerged like a swimmer frantically breaching the surface of a bottomless lake. The case gained forward momentum and the energy from that charged my batteries. I wanted to run with what I had, but I decided to consult with Hazel first. We agreed to meet at the park near her house in an hour. That gave me plenty of time to get ready.
When I got there, Hazel and Jaimie were already there. Jaimie saw the puppy and made a bee line for him. Puppy seemed to prefer children over adults, maybe he could sense the same energy levels in them, and trotted over, meeting her halfway. I let Puppy run off leash with Jaimie. He wasn’t the sort of dog that ran, and if he did, he couldn’t go far or fast, especially with Jaimie to keep him busy.
Hazel sat on a bench, and I joined her. I passed her a cup of coffee; two creams, three sugars. I know, its gross, but to each their own.
“Thanks,” she said, blowing on it before taking a cautious sip.
“No problem.” I took a sip from my own cup. We sat in silence for a moment watching Jaimie and Gus play. In that moment, everything seemed simple. The world was innocent. There was nothing in it but a little girl playing with a puppy. There weren’t dead girls laying in fields. There weren’t murderers. There wasn’t anything bad, anywhere. It was all a fantasy, of course. An illusion that disappeared as quickly as it formed, like a magic trick.
“You said you had big news,” she said, breaking the spell.
I pulled out my phone and showed her the photo I’d taken the night before. It was slightly off-centre, but it was a good, clear shot.
“Is that…” She took the phone from my hand and studied the image. “Is that a knife? Is that the knife?” Excitement rose in her voice.
“I think so. It hasn’t been tested yet, but I think so.”
She looked at me with wide eyes. “Did you call the police?”
“Not yet. I want to make sure its him first.”
“What if he chucks it? That evidence could be lost forever.”
“I know. I considered that too. I don’t think he will. He would have already.”
“Why is he holding onto it, Heck?”
I gave this a lot of thought throughout the night. There was something that didn’t pass the sniff test. I just couldn’t figure out what it was. “I don’t know. It could be a trophy. Maybe he just likes the knife. Maybe all his killings were done with that knife.”
“What? It’s his lucky knife?”
“It’s not the craziest idea I’ve ever heard. Once the police arrest him, the blood will be tested against Sandra Mack’s. There’s plenty on the blade, enough for a DNA test. If it’s a match, it’ll be hard for Cutler to explain it away.”
“And the knife? Did it seem sharp enough to dismember Sandra?”
“It’s a ka-bar. They’re very popular with the military. The marines are even outfitted with them. They’re very effective. Obviously, it needs expert analysis, but I'm sure the cuts are consistent with its blade. It could be used to remove someone's tackle, no problem.”
“What do we do next?” Hazel asked.
I took a moment to consider.
“Mr. Collins?” A woman’s voice asked. I turned my head and saw Dr. Singal, the vet who treated the puppy, standing behind the bench. She was walking an English sheepdog on a leash. It took me a moment to place her.
“Dr. Singal,” I said, getting up to shake her hand. Hazel followed suit, but I noticed her wearing the same faux smile she used when complimenting men at Pandora’s.
“Please. It’s just Neena.”
“It’s nice to see you, Neena,” Hazel said without any warmth.
“I live nearby. Winston and I always walk here.” She gestured towards the sheepdog.
There was a silence as one of the three of us worked out what to say next. We were saved when Puppy noticed the other dog and scampered forward to investigate. Winston pulled at his leash and the two stood nose-to-nose, before circling each other, trying to smell each other’s butts. Neena struggled to keep from getting hogtied in the leash.
“He seems to be doing well,” she said. She squatted down and put her hand out. The pup stopped what he was doing to investigate this new mystery. He sniffed her hand, and then licked it affectionately. Winston huffed jealously and sat down beside Neena.
“He’s eating his food and housetraining has been surprisingly easy-”
“Touch wood,” Neena interrupted, laughing. It was an infectious rat-a-tat, as catching as the common cold. I laughed too. She scratched his ears and he rolled onto his back, letting her rub his belly.
“He’s a big suck. He loves being around people. I was afraid he wouldn’t be friendly, considering where he came from.” I thought of the burn barrel, and its fur-matted char. The bitch that was so badly malnourished that she couldn’t even feed her young. How could any creature come through that experience intact?
“Dogs are very much nurture over nature,” Neena said. “There’s no such thing as bad dogs, only bad owners. He was lucky to have been rescued by such a good man.”
“Has there been any word on adoptions yet? This little guy needs his forever home.”
Neena crossed her arms over her chest and raised a single eyebrow. I got the distinct impression that I had just failed some sort of test that I didn’t even know I was taking. “There have been some inquiries. I know of a family; they lost a dog recently. I think they are interested. Do you think he’ll get along with children?”
I pointed to Jaimie who was vigorously petting the puppy, his tail a wagging blur of excitement. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
Neena crossed her arms over her chest and raised a single eyebrow. I got the distinct impression that I had just failed some sort of test that I didn’t even know I was taking. “We have to get going. I’ve got to be in the office later. I hope you bring him in for a checkup soon.” Her hand rested on my bicep as she spoke. Her touch was warm, and the warmth spread through me slowly, like a beam of sunlight through a window on a lazy afternoon.
“I will,” I said, waving as she walked away.
Hazel watched her go too. Her eyes were heavy slits. “Could she be any more obvious?”
“What?” I asked, feigning stupidity. I noticed it too. Hazel was jealous, and I didn’t want to cause her any pain. It was obvious that she and I weren’t going anywhere, but there was no need to rub salt in the wound. If I was being honest, I liked that Hazel was jealous. It meant that I meant something to her.
“Sometimes I worry that you’ll be alone for the rest of your life. How a detective could be so oblivious is beyond me,” she sighed nonchalantly, but it was as forced as her smile.
◆◆◆
I drove Hazel and Jaimie the two blocks back to their apartment. Jaimie played with the dog in the backseat. She laughed uproariously when he stuck his head out the window, lapping up torrents of wind. Hazel dropped Jaimie off at her downstairs neighbour, a college student named Jess. I’d never met her, but Hazel talked about her often. It seemed that the girl had more to do with Jaimie’s upbringing than anyone else in Hazel’s family, including Eddie and her own parents. It made me sad for her. I couldn’t imagine not having the people in my life who loved me. Sure, sometimes I pushed them away, and I was less than dutiful about keeping in touch. Text messages were often left on read, and voice mail was unanswered, but I knew I always had that support out there, if I wanted it.
Hazel climbed back into the front seat. “Jaimie
is settled in. Jess will look after her until I get home from work.”
“Is it hard?”
“I don’t follow?”
“Being a single mom. Is it hard?”
She laughed. “I never really thought of myself as a single mom. I always had Eddie around, at least peripherally. He was useless as a partner and not much better as a dad, but he was a part of our lives. It was normal for me. You know when you watch a stupid sitcom on television, they are all so formulaic, and the dad is almost always a blundering idiot? That was what my normal was. When ever Eddie did something selfish or cruel, I would imagine breaking the fourth wall, shrugging, and saying, ‘that’s Eddie.’
“It wasn’t all bad, either. He had his moments. He could be sweet. Considerate, even, but he was such a dreamer. I don’t say that as a bad thing. We all have dreams, but they don’t just come true. You have to chase after them. He dreamt that his dreams would just come true. And I hate to be that woman, but dreams don’t pay the bills. I suppose I’m not used to the new reality, because not much has changed. Eddie would drop in and out all the time, but he still calls Jaimie a few times a week.”
That was news to me. I didn’t know that Eddie was contacting them. I thought he just completely dropped out of their lives. I’m just selfish enough to have liked that. It meant that Hazel was moving past him, but of course he was calling. He was Jaimie’s father, after all. Still, I couldn’t help but feel like he was messing up my plans, such as they were. I stared ahead blankly, looking right into the centre of an imaginary camera. That’s Eddie.
Hazel snapped her fingers. “Earth to Hector. Are you even listening to me?”
“Sorry. I was just going over things in my head.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“Just the case,” I lied. “See how all the pieces fit together.”
“Can we do it together? I can help talk it out.”
“Good idea,” I said. I turned off the radio so we could talk as I drove. Back when I was an investigator, I would write out a timeline and lay everything out so I could see it. I would probably do it once I got home, but it couldn’t hurt to go over the facts once before.
“Where do we start?” Hazel asked, deferring to my experience.
“The beginning is as good a place as any. Mark Telford joined the army because he was a troubled young man and thought the strict discipline would be good for him. He was gay but hoped to push the gay away.”
“Like that ever works,” Hazel said. She pulled a notebook from her oversized handbag. She had been paying attention when I told her to write everything down. “Instead, the rules in the army riled him. He became more unruly, more rebellious. The more trouble he got into, the more he would rebel. It became a vicious circle. It was around then that he embraced his sexuality and his sexual identity. All this time, he thought he was a gay man. Really, he was a straight woman.” This gave me pause. I hadn’t really considered Gracie’s plight in such simple terms.
“He began dressing as a woman when he could and insisted that he be referred to as a female. She took the name Gracie. She began to take risks, meeting with men for sex. Both Frank Bello and Irwin Bobb confirmed that. Hernan Estes met with her for a tryst. Have I got the gist of it so far?” She asked.
“That’s right,” I said picking up the thread. “We also know that she had a secret boyfriend in the service. Gracie wrote her mother about him. They made plans to be together after her tour. Maybe it was Cutler, maybe it was someone else. Colonel Cutler should have removed her from her duties, instead, he ordered Frank Bello to rough her up. Make her life as difficult as possible. Bello obeyed, gleefully. He assaulted her often, including on the last day of her life. Bello also reported seeing Cutler walking his dog after that last beating, watching from the shadows.
“That’s where I came in because of my role as an officer in the military police. Gracie was found dead, wrapped up in a cocoon blanket. Her penis was removed and never recovered. I didn’t recognise the blanket as anything other then a cover for the corpse. I didn’t know that she was being displayed like a specimen in a perverse entomologist’s collection. It just wasn’t on my radar.” I broke free from my train of thought, reflecting on my failure.
Gracie’s death haunted me for so long, partly because she never got the justice that was her due, but also because of what he’d done. The final humiliation levied upon her, relegating her to something less than human. I’d never been able to put it into words before, but now I knew. Her killer wasn’t just a killer, he was also a collector. I thought it was the penises that he was collecting. It was something more. It was the ritual. It was the display. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were photos somewhere. A visual reminder of the butterflies in his collection. Something he could re-visit when he needed. The notion made me sick. I continued with the timeline.
“Through my investigation at the time, I suspected Frank Bello. I was told by my commanding officer, Colonel James Cutler, to drop it. I didn’t. Eventually, Bello bolted in a stolen jeep. I pursued him and hit an IED, losing my eye and my job. Bello was discharged as well, but never charged with any crime. Zaki Hosani finished the investigation but never arrested him. He thought Bello did it. He just couldn’t prove it. Gracie’s murder was left unsolved,” I said, looking at Hazel as I drove. She was jotting down a few notes in her book.
“Fast forward a decade when your old pal, the police detective, brings you out to a murder scene. One that was remarkably like Gracie Telford’s all those years ago. Sandra Mack was a trans girl and advocate who volunteered in the gay village. She was well-liked by everyone and known to have several sexual partners. Despite what the police believe, she wasn’t a prostitute, but she did have a very active account on a dating app. Her mother said that one of Sandra’s boyfriends was a policeman or a soldier. An Alpha male. Our investigation led us to investigate soldiers who were in Afghanistan at the time of Gracie’s murder and here during Sandra’s. We had six suspects. We struck you and the other detective off straight away,” Hazel looked at me curiously. “Come to think of it, I never established your alibi for Sandra’s murder.”
She maintained eye contact. “What? Are you serious? I was with you. At Pandora’s.”
She grinned mischievously. “I know. I’m just shitting you. Bob Nowak said he went home a couple days before Gracie was killed, and the crew manifest confirmed that. That left Bello, Bobb, and Estes.”
“Bello didn’t do it. He was jail at the time,” I said, recalling my visit with him. I thought I’d hate him for his role in my injury, but strangely, I didn’t. Ultimately, I could only blame myself. I chose to disregard orders. I chose to chase him into dangerous territory. All these years I was filled with anger and bitterness. I blamed Zaki for not having my back. I blamed Cutler for shutting down the investigation. I blamed Bello for running. I had a part in it too. I spent all these years wallowing in self-pity, thinking that my life was ruined because I couldn’t be a detective anymore. Now, I knew better. I still had worth. I could still do the job. And I missed it.
“Bobb didn’t do it either. He’s a good man who followed bad orders. He’ll have to live with that, but he didn’t kill anybody.”
“Then there’s Hernan Estes,” Hazel wrinkled her nose.
“Yeah,” I said. Neither of us said anything more. He was a despicable man, one capable of murder, based on his treatment of animals, but he wasn’t our man either.
“That leaves Cutler,” Hazel said.
“What if Cutler confronted Gracie after Bello beat her? He was so enraged that he got killed her, strangling the life out of her. Then he removed the penis, either because he got carried away or to confuse the investigation. Maybe he found he liked it. He wrapped her up like a butterfly, maybe as an insult, a final fuck you. Maybe as a compassionate act.”
“Why would he do that, Heck?”
“If Cutler was the killer, he wouldn’t see Gracie as a man. She was a woman. If he accepted that…” I le
t the sentence trail off, and Hazel picked up the thread.
“Maybe it was a lover’s quarrel.” Hazel knew what men did when they were out of their wives’ sight. How many respectable, professional, married men propositioned her while she danced?
“Don’t forget, I was being followed by a car that matched the description of Mrs. Cutler’s Mercedes. He could have taken it to keep tabs on me, see if I was getting close to him. It’s well known that serial killers like to insert themselves into their own investigations.”
“And I saw him at Sandra’s murder scene. He looked sad though,” Hazel added.
“Remorse?” It seemed as good an explanation as any. “Once the bloodlust is sated, maybe he regrets what he’s done. We know he has a bloody knife that is consistent with both victim’s injuries. And he doesn’t have an alibi.”
“Is that it then? Is he our guy?”
I was afraid of tunnel-vision, of being so sure that I had the right man, that I over-looked other bits of evidence, but everything seemed to point at Cutler. “I’ll call Zaki tonight. Tell him what we’ve got.”
“So that’s it then? We got him.” She beamed.
There was still something niggling at me. Something that didn’t sit right. I was damned if I could think what it was. “I’m going to go talk to Cutler first.”
“Heck. Are you crazy? If we’re right, you are going to walk right up to a cold-blooded killer and accuse him of being a cold-blooded killer.”
I flashed a lopsided grin at her. “What could go wrong?”
I dropped Hazel off at Pandora’s, sitting at the curb until she got in safely, then I turned south, heading towards Cutler’s condo on the lakeshore. I had to loiter near the front door until a bicycle courier was buzzed in. The harried cyclist didn’t notice or care when I slipped in behind him. I consulted my notes. Cutler lived in 304. I took the elevator up, and walked briskly down the carpeted hallway, stopping at his door. I put my ear against it, straining to hear anything. The television was on, and I thought I could hear a man’s voice. I knocked.