Medieval Murders

by Aaron Stander

  They found the smokers in the front yard, clustered in small groups. Reda Rudd was standing off to the side with Father Bob. She motioned them over. Elkins noticed how she was standing, suggesting an intimacy between them that he wouldn’t have expected.

  “Do you....” she gestured toward Father Bob.

  “Yes, we’ve met.” They shook hands.

  Elkins started to introduce Arden. She cut him off. “We’re all acquainted. Nice to see you again,” she said as she shook hands with Reda. “I’ve enjoyed reading your pieces in the Daily.”

  Reda turned to Elkins. “Is there anything new....”

  Her question was cut off by a long horn blast from an eighteen-wheeler, the scream of rubber against cement, the report of metal against metal and exploding glass. As they turned in the direction of the sound, a small tongue of yellow flame began to illuminate the wreckage. Ray ran toward the entrance of the subdivision.

  The scene was lit by the yellow flames. The crushed remnants of a small car were just behind the tractor wheels of a large truck. Burning fuel poured across the road into a ditch. A man in tan work clothes, his face lit by the flames, stood looking at the wreckage.

  “Are you hurt?” asked Elkins

  “There was nothing I could do. It ran the stop sign,” he yelled. The car was now a pillar of fire, there was no sign of its occupant.

  Lights flashing, siren screaming, a sheriff’s car braked hard and came to a halt, headlights on the wreck. The deputy climbed out, pulled an extinguisher from his trunk, and emptied it on the blaze. Then the first fire engine rumbled to a stop. The crew, in full protective gear, jumped from the rig and deployed hoses, covered the burning vehicles with foam, the spotlights from their truck reflecting off their heavy coats, helmets, and facemasks. Several more emergency vehicles arrived on the scene before the fire was completely under control. Minutes ticked past and things started to slow down again. Ray kept hearing the name Bobby Jo Hendrickson repeated in the crowd of spectators that had formed behind him.

  He gave his name as a witness to the accident to one of the deputies, and then walked through the crowd and in the direction of his house. The air was heavy with the smell of burning rubber, plastic, oil, gasoline, and flesh.

  Later, as he was standing in the shower, trying to wash the stink of the fire from his body, he remembered Jane Arden. He had left her standing on the lawn with Reda Rudd and Father Bob. He wondered if he would ever see her again.

  15

  On Monday, Labor Day, Ray was in the office from mid-morning until late afternoon. On his way home he stopped at the health food store near central campus and picked up some fresh bread, two soft avocados, a lime, and some alfalfa sprouts in a plastic, cube-shaped container.

  He laid out the ingredients on a cutting board. First, he quartered the lime, squeezed one of the quarters into a tall glass, added ice, and filled it to the top with quinine water. Then he halved both of the avocados, cutting to the pit and twisting the halves, one in each hand, until they came apart. He scraped the flesh away from the skin into a stainless steel mixing bowl. He squeezed lime juice from the remaining three quarters over the avocado. With a whisk, he mashed the pulp, mixing in the lime juice. Tasting the mixture with each addition, he sprinkled in salt, and garlic powder. The concluding touch was seven shakes of Frank’s Hot Sauce.

  Using a serrated knife, he lopped the heel off the loaf, and then cut two thick slices, noting with satisfaction the thick crust. He spread part of the avocado mixture on one slice, added a layer of alfalfa sprouts and the second slice, and then cut the sandwich on the diagonal.

  As Ray stood over the sink and ate the sandwich, he was startled by the sound of the door to the deck sliding open.

  Stephanie stepped in. “What are you doing?”

  “Dinner.”

  “You should come over, we still have tons of leftovers. The accident brought the party to an end. You didn’t come back.”

  “I went home. Didn’t feel like being social anymore.”

  “But you must have seen that kind of thing before.”

  “Too many times. I don’t need to do it again.”

  “It’s Ellen, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve never really dealt with death before, have you? I mean, the death of someone you’re close to, someone you loved.”

  “My father died a few years ago,” he offered.

  “Important, but not the same. Your grief was not the same as your mother’s.”

  Ray nodded.

  “Do you know what you need?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “You need a woman.”

  He reddened. Stephanie could feel his anger.

  “Don’t say anything.” She cut him off before he could start. She knew what he was going to say. “I know how much you still hurt, and I know that you think this is too simple of a solution. But you’re never going to get through your grief if you don’t start seeing people. ”

  Elkins made a sweeping motion with his hand in her direction. “We’re not alike.”

  “True. You find me a bit outrageous, you might even think I’m a bit of a tramp, or you feel sorry for Clifford. Don’t. He’s a realist, and so am I. If he could be my lover, I wouldn’t be out there. He understands me and my needs. Other than sex, we have a workable marriage, more than most people.” She moved closer to him.

  “Ray, you can take a lover without feeling guilty, and maybe it would get you back with the living.”

  “When did you become my self-appointed….”

  “We’ve known each other a long time. You’re bright and funny and a joy to be with, but since Ellen’s illness I’ve watched you pull in, and I don’t see signs you’re making any attempt to come out. I’ve appointed myself to kick you in the ass because I can’t stand extended grief and self-pity. What are you drinking?”

  “Tonic water, diet tonic water.”

  “Gin?”

  “No, just tonic water.”

  “Got any?”

  Elkins pointed to the cabinet that held the liquor.

  As Stephanie rifled through the bottles, he asked, “You want a sandwich?”

  “What is it?”

  “Avocado and sprouts on whole wheat.”

  “God, you buy cheap gin,” she said as she started making a drink. “I see why you’re sticking with the tonic.” She reached around him, pulled a tumbler from a shelf and splashed in some soda. “Sure you don’t want to come over for leftovers?”

  “No, I’m happy with this. Where’s Clifford?”

  “He’s at the office trying to get the schedule covered. He’s moving people around, trying to cover the classes that had been assigned to Hendrickson and Bensen. Then he’s got to hire adjuncts to teach uncovered sections. And this has all got to happen by tomorrow morning when classes start.” She paused, “You’re cleverly changing the subject. You need a woman.”

  “Are you offering yourself, selflessly, in an attempt to save me?”

  She looked coy. “I’ve always found you attractive, but I kept my hands off you because of Ellen. Plus, I don’t think it’s good to have lovers in the neighborhood. That said, I’m available, but if it’s not me, it should be someone.”

  “You’re a regular Mother Teresa, aren’t you?”

  “Okay, be a bastard about it. Spend your time working and sleeping. It’s your life you’re wasting.”

  Elkins watched her leave, carrying her drink with her. He wished she had stayed.

  16

  Early in the workday on Tuesday morning, Ray gingerly carried two large cups of coffee and a bag from the Boulangerie André from the parking lot into the medical center. With his precious load, he carefully negotiated the revolving door, took the elevator to the subway level, and made his way to the pathology department.

  Dr. Gutiérrez turned away from her computer screen and looked at him.

  “It’s a good thing I come in early. In most places you would
have to wait a day or two for this.” She motioned to the screen. “This wasn’t in your jurisdiction, was it?”

  “No, but I was at the scene. I’m interested in the case.”

  Gutiérrez pointed at the bag.

  “Coffee,” Elkins responded. “Coffee and dark chocolate croissants.”

  “Good. The autopsy put me behind schedule. I’m an hour late for my morning snack. You joining me?”

  “I’ll just stick with the coffee.”

  Gutiérrez looked in the bag. “You better eat one, doctor’s orders.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to get fat.”

  “Aren’t you still refereeing youth soccer?”

  “Yes, running my butt off trying to keep up with the kids. And what I’m trying to tell you is that I don’t need any extra butt. So eat, you’re looking undernourished.”

  Gutiérrez placed the croissants on some paper plates she pulled from a bottom desk drawer and passed Ray a paper towel to use as a napkin.

  “These are great, Ray,” she said after consuming half of the pastry. “Now if we could get a decent bagel without having to go a thousand miles. Can we talk about the accident without ruining your appetite?”

  “Sure,” said Ray.

  “What exactly happened?”

  “It looked like the Hendrickson ran a stop sign and slammed into the side of a truck. There was a fire. It was horrible. I left when things appeared to be under control. It was more than I could deal with.”

  “Well, the victim was a bit broasted, but the body was pretty much intact. Maybe you couldn’t see it. The victim was decapitated. Probably never knew what hit her, or I guess in this case what she hit. Head’s in good shape. I talked to one of the EMT’s this morning who was at the scene.”

  “Yes?”

  “He told me when they removed the body, they couldn’t find the head. They looked around the accident scene, even in the ditches by the side of the road. Finally he found it on the floor of the passenger’s side, way at the front under the dash. Said it was sort of weird, head was down there and so was a bourbon bottle.” She looked up and gave Ray an amused smile. “Her blood alcohol was 0.23. Glad it didn’t boil off. We wouldn’t have been able to determine that,” she laughed at her joke. “So what’s your interest in this?”

  “The accident was at the entrance to my sub. I was at the same party. I may have even been introduced to the woman. You know what it’s like at a noisy party.”

  “Yes, been there. People talking at one another, but you’re often just guessing at what’s being said.”

  “Here’s what’s special,” said Ray. “This is the second member of the English department to die in a week. At that blood alcohol level, what did you say, 0.23, how well could she function?”

  “It depends, most of us wouldn’t be able to walk, but someone who is habituated to alcohol, they can handle it. During my internship I’d see people in the ER with this level or even higher, and you’d hardly know that they had been drinking. The human body is an amazing machine. It can adapt to almost any abuse, at least for a while. This woman, what’s her name?” She glanced at the screen. “Hendrickson, you can tell she was a hard drinker, had been for years.” She gestured with the pastry. “These are great, thank you.”

  Elkins nodded.

  “It’s the only place in town where you can get decent pastries or bread. Most of these flat-landers don’t understand baking. Their palettes have never gotten beyond Little Debbie.” She ate the last bit of the croissant, and then licked the chocolate off her fingers. “Who’s going to identify the body? Does she have family locally?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, this isn’t a job for the squeamish.”

  “I’ll ask the department chair. He identified Bensen.”

  “This one looks better than Bensen. Hairs a bit singed and one ear is rather crisp, and she has sort of a detached look on her face, if you know what I mean.” She gave Elkins a naughty-child grin. “You know what I’m really sorry about? That I encouraged you to eat the other croissant. But before you go...”

  “Yes,” said Ray.

  Gutiérrez pulled a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope from a file drawer. “Let’s do right arm, then left arm, and average the two.”

  Ray submitted, knowing that a lecture would follow.

  17

  Reda Rudd stood at Ray’s office door. He waved her in. “Have a seat. Are you okay?”

  “I guess I wanted to ask you the same thing. I saw you wander away sometime after the fire trucks arrived. I looked for you later and couldn’t find you.”

  “I went home. It was all too much,” Ray said.

  “That’s surprising. I assumed you had dealt with things like that when you were a cop. What did you tell me, Detroit?”

  “Good memory. And I did see my share of death and mayhem. And at the time I coped with it. I think I may have had better defenses then. I was just doing a job, being a professional.” Elkins sat and rocked a bit in his chair.

  “And now?” asked Reda.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t had to deal with death and violence on a day-to-day basis for years. Perhaps I’ve lost my professional distance. Or maybe I’m just getting older, becoming increasingly aware of my mortality.” He paused and looked thoughtful. “When I saw you in front of Chesterton’s house, were you leaving?”

  “No, I lost my date, the jerk. I came out to see if he was having a smoke. We’d had a thing about tobacco earlier in the evening. Anyway, I ran into Father Bob while I was looking for Gus.”

  “How do you know Father Bob?”

  “I’m sort of Catholic, or at least my family is. My freshman year I attended Mass from time to time. Haven’t seen him much since then.” She paused, “ A question, that woman you were standing with, Jane Arden, was she your date?”

  “No, I had just been introduced to her. We went out for some air. Why do you ask?”

  “After the crash, you just left her standing there. To be honest, Elkins, I thought it was sort of peculiar.”

  Ray visualized the scene. “I really know how to impress a woman, don’t I? I should have checked on her later.”

  “It was a chaotic scene. If you weren’t really with her, it’s probably no big thing. I had Arden my sophomore year, a survey class. She’s a smart woman, nice person, too.”

  “Did you go back to the party?” asked Ray.

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “I went to find Gus. I wanted to go home. There were a whole lot of people on the inside who didn’t know anything had happened, but it didn’t take long for the word to spread. Then things were over rather quickly. Everyone left en masse.”

  “Did you know Hendrickson?”

  “I had her winter term last year for Southern Writers. A wonderful instructor, she had lots of interesting anecdotes about the writers we were studying. She really knew the material and the back-stories of the writers and their works. She gave us the impression that bourbon was a very important part of the creative process for most of these writers.”

  “Did you know her outside of class?” Ray asked.

  “After the final, we went to a bar, most of the class. That was the only time.”

  “Did you see Hendrickson at the party?”

  “I talked to her for a while early in the evening, and I saw her when I was standing with Father Bob. She stopped for a minute and joked with us. She said department parties reminded her of Polish weddings. It seemed funny at the time, but I have no idea what she was talking about.”

  “How did she seem? Intoxicated?”

  “I don’t think so. Her speech wasn’t slurred, she wasn’t staggering or anything.”

  “Did she leave alone or was anyone with her?”

  “She was alone. She waved at me as she walked down the driveway. You came out and then a few minutes later there was that awful crash.” Reda assumed her reporter’s tone, “We want to do a complete
story on the accident. What can you tell….”

  Elkins raised his hand to stop her. “You’ll have to talk to the Sheriff’s Department. They’re handling the investigation. You need to get to know the Sheriff, Jack Kackmeister. He’s a good guy and a graduate student of mine. I’ll tell him that you’re a real professional.”

  “Thanks, Elkins. I owe you. You know, I had to interview Kackmeister last year when I was working on a story. I could hardly get him to say anything. Why are cops so damn paranoid about reporters?”

  “You can probably answer that question. First, they have to be careful not to disclose anything that might ruin a possible prosecution. And second, so many cops have been done in by reporters—misquoted or had things taken out of context.”

  “How about just CYAing?”

  “There’s that and sometimes incompetence or corruption. You ran into that on your big story last year.”

  “Yes. That was an education.”

  “Oh, by the way, your date, a long-term relationship?” asked Ray.

  “No, I just met him. I’m still recovering from a love affair that ended very badly.”

  “So, who is this guy?”

  “Gus, he’s new to the department, his first year. Got his degree from Northwestern, American Studies. I just met him a few days ago. We live in the same apartment complex. It was our first date, probably the last. I can’t stand guys that smoke. Did you ever smoke, Elkins?”

  “I did, and I quit. I started again, and I quit. I think I’m beyond it.”

  “Tobacco, how did you kick it?”

  “Getting involved with a woman who hated it. I had to make a choice.”

  “Good for you. Thanks, Ray.”

  18

  Sharon Anderson watched Ray get off the elevator and walk to the glass door that opened to the Chancellor’s office. As he approached her desk, she said, “You can go right in. Please know, he’s in a lousy mood.” She reached out and briefly held on to his hand.