One way or another, they’d keep eyes on Gertrude and Ronald.
Peggy flashed a pleasant grin. “It’s a date then.”
“I’d like to come along. I’m supposed to be getting my granddaughter a gift for her birthday next week, and I have no idea what to get. I’m sure you two can help me pick out something she’d like,” Wilson remarked, putting in his bid for time with Aunt May.
Quite frankly, Peggy had had enough of the men and their antics, but she couldn’t decline since Wilson had to find a birthday gift for his granddaughter. “Fine. Whoever wants to go, we’ll meet at my house on Saturday at noon. Don’t be late.”
The remainder of their dinner progressed without incident, although they all continued to harbor reservations about Ronald’s intentions. Were they deadly or not so much? He was clearly interested in Gertrude, taking the notion that he was gay out of the equation. Still, Ronald wasn’t in the clear just yet.
Chapter 16
Watchful Eyes
As the sun made its rise the next day, Karen stepped out onto her porch with a mug of freshly brewed coffee in hand. A pleasant grin graced her face as she closed her eyes, then took in a long whiff of the dewy air pervading the morning. That was until it hit her. Karen’s eyes opened under wrinkled brows and contorted lips once she had gotten a whiff of the pungent stench coming from across the street. “What on earth is that smell?”
The stray dogs leaving Arthur’s property clued her in about where the rancid odor was coming from. Down her porch steps, she trotted in furry pink house slippers and matching robe to find out what could possibly cause the foul funk lingering about her neighborhood. “You get out of here! Get!” she flailed her hand wildly, shooing off the strays as she approached Arthur’s property.
The closer she got, the more sickening the smell became. Karen lifted the lapel of her robe over her nose, hoping to mask the funk. She thought about ringing his doorbell but harbored doubts he’d answer. Arthur had always been a private neighbor, one who preferred not mingling with the community around him. That, along with the fact that she once called him out for not maintaining his lawn, Karen knew she’d get little to nowhere with him. This had to be done without his permission. Even though her actions could be deemed as trespassing, she felt it was her duty. Besides, no one else on the block was nosy enough to care. Karen unlatched the gate, then continued into his backyard. She’d only made it a few steps until her house shoe pressed down on something gushy. What the hell is that? She looked down, lifting her foot from the ground. There it was—a fully formed, partially eaten human heart. She howled in horror, bolting from the scene. Karen couldn’t get back across the street fast enough to call the authorities. Her robe flew open, putting her white, high-waisted panties on display. She clenched it tight to her chest, keeping it closed so that her large, sagging breasts didn’t come flying out.
Thirty minutes later, detectives from the Detroit Police Department were canvasing the scene. Yellow crime scene tape sectioned off the property from front to back.
Detective Barnes stood with his arms folded, wondering what was waiting on the other side of that front door. If the backyard housed a buffet of waterlogged body parts, it couldn’t be much better inside the home. “We’re going inside first,” he instructed Detective Alanis, who had already been vesting up.
“I’m ready. You vested?”
Barnes knocked at his chest, affirming her query. “Let’s do this.”
Both approached, shattered glass crunching under their shoes. By Barnes signaling, Alanis agreed to go left while he’d stay straight ahead.
He went directly up the front porch. Alanis decided to go along the front side, climbing the porch railings, then hopping over to gain access to a side angle. She waited there, gun drawn, cocked, and ready to fire.
He laid his fist into the thick, wooden door carrying its thudding sound through the house.
“Open up. This is the Detroit Police Department. If I ask again, I’m breaking the door down.”
A few seconds passed before Barnes turned to Alanis, giving her the nod. At that point, she knew entry would have to be forced.
Barnes knew he could call the tackle team or get in inside themselves. He pulled his gun from his waist under his gray suit coat. It made him feel like he’d made it to the big time to be able to wear suits to work. To be perfectly honest, he thought of himself as kind of a badass. Many times, his “by any means necessary” tactics earned him stripes above the rest. Tactics he was about to exhibit then. Barnes smashed the butt of his gun against the single-paned glass window, shattering it to pieces. As Alanis approached, he continued knocking out the remaining shards of glass threatening to slice at them as they’d climb through.
Before climbing through, he reached and ripped down Arthur’s raggedy miniblinds. “Now, we’ve got to come in and get cha.”
He pointed his weapon, letting his eyes scan the living room. There wasn’t a soul in sight.
Alanis tapped at his shoulder, seeing her moment to shine. “Let me,” she whispered.
Barnes stood watch as she climbed through. She’d only been inside for a few seconds when the dead bolt unlatched. Then the front door swung open. “We’re in.” Alanis peeked her head out.
From the living room, they began their initial walk-through. Heading straight on through, they would get a glimpse into nearly every room in the house. They each pushed open a door as they approached, Alanis revealing what lay to the left of them, and Barnes, those on their right.
Nothing looked out of sorts. He barely had furniture in each room. Just a bed and a dresser here, a lamp and a futon there . . . that was until they hit the very last room, which happened to be in the middle. They had been headed right for it the entire time. Barnes twisted the knob, then pushed the flimsy door open. Blood. Everywhere they looked, they saw it. On the mattress, splashed along the flat, white-painted walls. Even as their shoes moved along the carpet, they could feel the squishiness of blood under their soles. The mirror atop the dresser also had been smeared with blood. But what there wasn’t a body.
“What the hell happened in here?”
“A murder, of course,” Barnes answered, continuing to survey their surroundings.
“Where the hell is the body?”
“Or bodies,” Barnes added.
Arthur’s body was gone. It had been carted off in the middle of the night. It all went down a little after 3:00 a.m.
* * *
The masked assailant crept through the neighborhood, almost making it to Arthur’s house when a light illuminated several windows across the street, all of them belonging to Karen. The assailant launched a rock he’d found on the ground shattering the streetlamp above his head. Once she stepped out onto the porch, the assailant had blended in with the pole under the shattered streetlight.
“Is someone out there?” she called out into the darkness, not leaving the safety of her porch. “Is that you, Tony? If I find out you’re out here loitering, I’m going to have to call the authorities.” Karen browbeat the unidentified man.
The masked assailant stood still until she ducked back off inside her residence to shower and turn down for the night. Once the lights went out, the unknown perpetrator pressed on. Directly to the Columbus house the perp headed, shattering every streetlamp along the way. An unlocked window in the back gave access to the home. After tossing the black duffle bag in through the window, the assailant climbed inside. The ax pulled from the duffle bag would be the only thing needed to break Arthur Columbus’s body down to a transferrable size. A roll of plastic inside was used to cover the assailant. By the time it was all said and done, the room was covered in blood.
* * *
And so, the case had begun. Barnes and Alanis would first have to find out who lived there. Upon the two emerging, Karen stood at the border of the crime scene tape, rubbernecking left and right to see what she could see. “There’s our answer right there.” Barnes eluded to the nosy neighbor, clearly re
ady to spill her guts.
“Ma’am,” Alanis called out to her as they approached, “you’re the one who found the bodies, correct?”
“I am. I’m the one who called you,” she spoke eagerly.
“Would you happen to know who lives here?”
“I certainly do. I know everyone on my block. His name is Arthur Columbus. He’s a single, white male around 40 years of age. He works at the fast-food restaurant on campus at Wayne State University. What’s the name of that restaurant?” She took a moment to search her memory bank. “Darn it. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but for some reason, I just can’t recall.”
“Have you seen anything suspicious out here lately?”
As Detective Alanis continued to pick Karen’s brain, Barnes walked up the street. He’d gotten as far as five houses down the block before shattered glass from the streetlamps became no more. Barnes took note, then headed back to his partner. By that time, there were officials everywhere . . . ambulance, police, even the coroner was on the scene. Karen, of course, rambled on.
“I have a neighbor named Tony. He lives down the street. He’s always drunk, walking around in the middle of the night on other people’s property, mind you. I had to get on him yesterday about bothering the meter man. I told him that man has a job to do and that he should stop harassing him. I believe it was him out here last night roaming about well after 3:00 a.m.”
“What were you doing up at 3:00 a.m.?” Detective Alanis interjected.
“I’m always up late. I have trouble sleeping. It may be the Adderall my doctor prescribed me. Either way, I’m usually pretty alert.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us, Karen?”
“You know there’s a woman who lives about three houses down. She’s always got her dog off the leash roaming the neighborhood. He’s going to bite someone one day.”
“Ma’am, you’ll have to call down to the station for that. We’re here to solve a murder,” Barnes chimed in.
“I can do that,” Karen affirmed, folding her arms.
“Thank you for your help, ma’am. If we need anything else, we’ll be sure to call you. If you remember anything that could assist us in solving this crime, give me a call.” Detective Alanis pulled her card from the pocket of her fitted, dark wash jeans, handing it over to Karen.
“I sure will. The boys in blue can always count on me,” she went on as they left her standing there.
Chapter 17
High Hopes
Nothing decorated the room—merely a full-sized bed and dresser. Richard’s eyes jutted open in a panic. Where’s my bag? He sat up searching, as he’d assumed it stolen, not having realized where he’d woken up. A few seconds passed before it dawned on him. The bed was soft. Its sheets felt good on his skin. This is where I’ll be staying for a while. He fell back against his pillow, allowing his rapidly beating heart to slow.
I wonder what we’re doing today, he pondered as he sat back up to pull the plaid comforter from overtop of him. His mind shifted to the pie he’d saved from his meal the night before, assuming it would go perfect with a cup of coffee. He slipped his jogging pants on over his boxers, then headed for the door. The house was dark except for the space where windows provided natural light. Richard could hear the grandfather clock ticking at the other end of the hall. The sound of his steps creaking across the wood floor eventually drowned it out.
“Edward,” Richard rubbernecked left, then right as he called out for the detective.
Richard, receiving no reply, relaxed his shoulders. His steps became more purposeful—eager to eat his pie in peace. The hungry stranger made a quick left into the kitchen, headed straight for the refrigerator. The first thing he noticed was the note taped to its door. Richard removed it from the clip, reading what the detective had scribbled with a Sharpie. “Feel free to get cleaned up. Be back later.”
Richard looked around at all the things he could use as a source of entertainment to keep him busy after his shower. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat on a sofa and watched a television show. The home personal computer in the library Richard remembered having glanced at on his way up the hall seemed altogether foreign. Regardless of which he’d choose, the first thing on the agenda was the warm apple pie he anticipated dancing across his taste buds.
After having his coveted apple pie, Richard washed his fork, tossed it into the dishrack on the sink, then disposed of his empty container. Even though all he wanted to do was rest his legs, Richard thought it best he showered first, in case Detective Barnes came home early. In the bathroom on the sink, he found a shaving kit with a sticky note attached reading, Yours.
“Nice,” Richard remarked as he dug through the bag to see what tools he had at his disposal. The detective made sure he had everything he needed to begin again.
Steam from the hot water filled the bathroom as Richard washed dirt and grime from his body due to months of sleeping in shelters, hopping trains, and nights on park benches. He shampooed, then conditioned his greasy, knotted hair. It felt good to lather the hairs on his bushy chest.
After he cleansed his temple to his satisfaction, he turned off the water, then hopped out with the towel he’d snatched down from the steel rod above his head. He wrapped it around his waist, then used the hand towel on the sink to dry his shoulder-length hair. Strands that once looked brown showed to have been blond. Richard wiped the mirror with his hand towel, clearing it of the fog to reveal his reflection. Ruffling his hand through his beard, he decided it needed to go. So did his hair, for that matter.
He pulled the clippers from the bag atop the porcelain sink, then went to work on his profile. By the time he finished, his bob had become a buzz cut, and the beard on his chin trimmed down to a goatee. For the first time in ages, he looked into those baby blue eyes and was proud of the reflection he saw staring back at him. Although not yet the man, with Detective Barnes’s help, Richard hoped to change all that.
Chapter 18
Shooting Her Shot
Just across the bridge at Hamtramck’s border, the sound of crickets echoed throughout the block. Gertrude lay snuggled in her bed. Ronald in his. Aunt May, though, was wide awake and brewing a pot of coffee. Her show would be starting soon. Maury being the first of them. She couldn’t wait to see who the fathers were. Anticipating the conclusion of the to-be-continued episodes always kept the old woman wanting more.
Until then, she’d watch the morning news on the thirteen-inch television atop her kitchen counter. The old woman hit the volume on the remote so that she could get a good listen.
In local news, tragedy strikes as decorated Officer Joe Poser is killed in a car crash, said to be the victim of foul play. Poser leaves behind a grieving wife and two young sons. We are all wishing them the best. They are in our prayers as well as the prayers of law enforcement. One of their own has perished, and they are working around the clock to solve this case. If you have any information regarding the murder of Officer Joe Poser, please contact the Detroit Police Department. A $10,000 reward is being offered to anyone with a tip that leads to the arrest of the perpetrator.
May turned the television volume back down. “Can you believe that, Henry? Violence has become the language we live by,” she spoke to her late husband as if he were there listening. “These people nowadays have no regard for human life. It saddens me to know Gertrude will have to raise children in a world like this,” she babbled on.
Gertrude peeked her head inside the kitchen, interrupting her monologue. “Umm umm . . .” she hummed. “That coffee sure does smell good.”
“Come on in here, little girl, and get you a cup. You can keep me company until my shows come on. I was attempting to watch the morning news, but it’s nothing but negativity, as usual.”
“I’d love to keep you company,” Gertrude replied before she lowered her voice to throw her aunt May a slight jab. “Then you can stop talking to your imaginary friend.”
“Speak up, chile. You know I can’t
hear you.”
“I said, who were you talking to?”
“When?” Aunt May poured her cup of joe.
“Before I came in, you were talking. Were you on the phone?”
“If you must know, I was talking to your uncle, my husband.”
“Do you see him too?” Gertrude inquired, attempting to gauge how crazy her aunt had become.
“I’m old, chile, not senile.”
Gertrude chuckled. “You can never be too careful.”
“Silly, girl.” May brushed off the comment. “So, enough about me. What’s up with you and Ronald? Care to discuss it over breakfast?”
“I’d love to, Aunt May.” Gertrude had been waiting for the open invitation to talk about Ronald. Her aunt was harsh but wise beyond her years; therefore, her advice was invaluable.
* * *
Ronald’s eyes opened, squinting from the sun’s glare coming through his bedroom window. It was time to get ready for class. Now that Gertrude knew how to navigate the campus, she didn’t need to ask for Ronald’s aid. There would be no piping hot breakfast being served that morning, something Ronald secretly wished for. Even though he missed it, it was nothing to sulk over, not as a grown man, anyway. He climbed out of bed, then headed to the shower, dreading the fact that he had to wash his hair again. Because the gang interrupted their dinner, he declined to stay afterward, so Gertrude braiding his hair had to wait. Maybe she’ll offer to braid it tonight, he thought. It took him all of thirty minutes to shower and shave before he was ready to head out.
Upon opening the front door to leave, he spied a brown paper bag atop one of the stone columns on the porch. The words printed in a Sharpie read Ronald To Go. He grinned, imagining what she’d left inside for him. When he opened the bag, the aroma of maple sausage escaped with a light cloud of steam. She made me breakfast, anyway. Ronald pulled out the foiled sandwich, opening it up. Gertrude had made him a sausage biscuit with an over-easy egg on top. It was just what he needed. Avoiding the long line at Mickey D’s that morning gave him more time to canvas the campus before he’d have to head to class.
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