With a Tilt of My Hat

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With a Tilt of My Hat Page 5

by Mary Matuskey


  “But Crown was only seen with women, not down in the basement,” Jones said.

  “Yes, that we know, however the killer wanted him and waited outside. His intent was to harm, not for pleasure. And this Crown resembled his past lover that may have been enough for our killer to get pissed off, provoking him to kill Crown!” Fike yelled in frustration. “What the hell do I know about this kind of stuff?” he added, in an angered tone.

  Jones walked back to her desk. She allowed Fike time to realign himself. She stated her assumption. “The person he lost certainly without question gave him love, support, and outlet for his sexual desires. Therefore, he had that perfect unity; one that gave him a safe haven in the way he needed to express himself without any doubt. Now he’s probably confused and yearning for familiarity. Easily placing him into a state of rage, his sanity crossed over into insanity, which caused him to kill. We really need to find this guy fast; his needs are now cravings, and he will kill again.”

  “I agree with you, but with these findings we still have nothing solid,” Fike said. “Jones, I want you to call the tracking unit, let’s send some dogs with the officers back into those woods. Have them search for cabins. I want them to start at the furthest point of the stream. My thoughts are that our guy may have come from beyond the town, closer to the border of the forest. He may own a cabin, which is his primary residence. When he is on one of his sexual sprees and or killings, he preys upon these men and stays low-key, possibly in a tent. Get a Platt map up for me.”

  Detective Jones was already on the phone setting up the squad to proceed with his orders. She stated to the officer in a direct tone of voice to call us immediately if they found any evidence.

  Agitated, Fike told Jones that he needed some fresh air; he was going outside for a walk. But first he felt compelled to see someone, and made a dash to the forensics lab. “Good morning, Myrna, I just wanted to double check with you regarding anything new which may pertain to our forest murder.”

  “Nothing else gathered, or at least not sent my way,” she responded with a smile.

  “I also want to express my appreciation to you for the professionalism you have given to this case.” Fike smiled trying to hide his lust.

  Myrna blushed and looked away from him for just one second. Then she picked up a clipboard. Trying to compose herself, she pretended to read a line before replying to him. “Only doing what’s expected of me. However, thank you just the same.”

  With a sly grin, Fike walked towards the exit door, he stopped himself prior to opening it and asked if she’d like to have dinner with him after the case had been solved. Unfortunately, his words came out differently; “You should have dinner after the case closes.”

  A bit apprehensive of his question, Myrna stood there speechless as she watched him fumble in embarrassment entering the elevator to leave.

  Chapter 12

  Paul handed the rolled wire to Steven. “Start walking east, entwining the wire around each post as you go, I will follow with the nail gun, nailing each clasp securely over the wire to keep it in place.”

  Steven took one last drag from his cigarette before dropping the butt to the ground. Stepping on top of it with his boot, he dug the butt into the dirt, burying it there. “I want you to know, Paul, that your farm’s instilled wonders of new energy into me. Dark dreams, which used to invade my thoughts, seldom happen anymore. When I sense them creeping to the surface, I’m now able to block those thoughts with goodness. Thanks again for letting me stay here.”

  “Letting you stay, hell no, I’m letting you work here,” Paul remarked, patting him on the back.

  “Kari and I are becoming exceptionally close. My intentions are honest; I care for her and actually think I may love her, Paul.”

  Settling his hammer down to the side of his leg, Paul responded, “Well, I don’t know the depths of Kari’s feelings for you, but I know for a fact that my wife is smitten with you. As for myself, I like you and have enjoyed your company these past two weeks. You’ve proven to be a hard worker and you’re kind to my daughter. If there is ever a time in which you need to discuss your past, I will do my best to listen. I have, however, noticed my daughter’s smile increasing since you’ve arrived. Kari’s elated and in high spirits whenever she’s near you.”

  With the sun bestowing its glow through the open blues skies, mother and daughter took advantage of its rarity here in Oregon, by going shopping at the open Farmer’s Market just a few miles up the road. Paul and Joanne produced a vast amount of vegetables on their farm, but the only fruits they grew were grapes.

  “Look at the size of these strawberries, Kari. And the cut watermelon, too,” Joanne said, her voice alerting all the customers.

  “Mother, you say the same thing every time we come here, which has been every week, of every summer for my entire lifetime.”

  “Oh, I do. Well, tell me, honey, what’s going on with you and Steven?”

  “Mom, I absolutely love him. He’s so considerate of my feelings, and I enjoy listening to how he speaks so poetically. I can’t get the vision of him out of my mind. For instance, right now I can’t even look at that red strawberry without seeing Steven’s face mirrored back at me,” Kari replied.

  Joanne laughed while hugging her daughter. “Soon he’ll settle in Portland and you’ll be going to college. Even though you’ll still be living at home, the two of you should be able to build a fantastic relationship together.”

  Arm in arm, mother and daughter strolled through the aisles like teenage kids embracing those sentiments.

  * * * *

  That evening when the last lights switched off, Paul sat alone in the den, his mind unsettled. Turning to view the frog vivarium for solace, he focused on the exotic frogs, watching them leap from plant stalk to leaves. He studied their sly behavior while enthralled with their bright yellow and black neon colors. His childhood fascination with frogs had led him to attend a National Reptile exhibit, which was on display in Astoria last year. He purchased an entire glass ecosystem, which is similar to a plant terrarium but specifically designed to protect the wellbeing of these tiny captive dart frogs. The frogs were nothing like the bullfrogs he recalled chasing and trying to catch as a child. The dark frog bodies were shiny slick, with an array of blues, red, yellows, black, and green colors.

  However, tonight the frogs had no calming effect for Paul; his anxiety regarding Steven’s moods today bothered him when he noticed his face had become taut in anger. His blackened eyes told Paul that Steven was drowning in mental darkness. Whatever kind of dark dreams haunted him from his past were still there.

  A knock came on the door and Joanne entered carrying drinks for both of them. She set his on the side table next to his chair. Then she began sharing her perception of Steven and Kari’s relationship, and the wonderful conversation she had with Kari while shopping today.

  “I actually find him inspiring. Don’t you, Paul?” she said, rhetorically. “Not just with his music, but how humble and kind he is towards others.”

  “I feel the same way you girls do. However, there’s just one thing that bothers me, I sense there’s an underlying problem with Steven—something presenting itself in bits and pieces. It’s been bothering me all day.”

  Affectionately Joanne glided her hand over his scruffy-haired face. She leaned into his chest and gave him a hug. “Sounds like fatherly protectiveness to me,” Joanne whispered.

  “Yeah, maybe so,” Paul said, and then decided for the time being to keep his unsettled thoughts to himself.

  Lightning and thunder blazed the skies as rain poured down, drenching the fields of Tillamook. Their plans for entertaining outside came to a halt. Joanne made the phone call to the caterer changing the table settings for indoors and deleting the number of tables and chairs by eight. Her guest list had altered due to the horrible weather—several of her friends called to cancel their invite. It was difficult staying calm; she wanted everything to be grand for Steven’s send-off party
.

  Paul invited a special guest for the evening, an associate of his from the internet homestead advisory board: a musician, Mr. Ryan Bufet, one of Portland’s very own jazz players. Ryan also had connections with a fellow musician he performed with back in the nineties, who now owned a nightclub in Sacramento. Ryan ended his music career here in Oregon when he accepted a professorial job at the community college. Paul was thinking if Steven played guitar this evening and Ryan thought his music was good enough that perhaps he would set him up with one of his jazz friends in Portland.

  The rain beat down on the windows creating a rhythmic drum effect, which enhanced the sound of Steven’s guitar while he played his music. The room boomed with an ambiance of French jazz music and swing sounds.

  Soon Ryan picked up his violin and played along, heightening the melody of Steven’s song. It was invigorating as the mood set a tone of gypsy gaiety, which defined was the ensemble mix of French jazz and swing. Joanne’s friends danced in celebration of Steven’s impressions of his own composition.

  On the last note, everyone held their wineglass high, and praised Steven. “Here, here, well played Mr. Gypsy Jazz Man!” yelled Ryan, continuing with, “Steven, many musicians have learned to perform their instrument with clarity. However most of them lack individual passions which exceed the level of music held only by a few great musicians. You have these gifts, Steven. You’ve created your own unique sound blended with old style gypsy jazz that projects a new alternative of inspiration. That is what I felt tonight, and that’s what I hear in your music. It’s been a pleasure indeed, listening to you perform.” Ryan reached his arms out to Steven in adoration and thanks.

  With a tilt of my fedora, I bowed to the room. Joanne stood up, winked at me, and then said, “Thank you all for coming tonight. Thank you so very much, Steven, this has been the best party I have ever thrown.”

  Her friends moved closer so they could be next to Steven; they spoke to him all at once expressing their excitement over his performance. Best wishes and many hugs were given to him. His boyish look seemed to fade as he projected the face of a confident musician.

  Those feelings of being accepted by others relaxed Steven’s mind to the point that now allowed him to commence easily into conversation. “If one allows oneself to mellow, peacefully, accepting the presence of what has taken place, he evolves, and his situation may bloom in positives. Our souls can meet with the mind and the flesh as we become united. As one being, without the harshness often seen in society, but merely to express that which is the simplicity of a child’s sensation.”

  * * * *

  Later that night alone with Kari, I explored deeper into my own sexual desires. Kari discovered new things about her sexuality too as I caressed every secret place on her body, igniting her with more pleasure. I held her close, letting her body form into mine. Her breathing became shallow as she later slept with ease after we made crazy love.

  But I couldn’t sleep as these new thoughts flowed through my mind, I analyzed again, which only brought forth doubt.

  When I awaken, will life actually venture toward a new light?

  Chapter 13

  The morning began as the night had ended with a surge of new life for me. I received two phone calls from musicians who wanted to set interviews with me to audition at the Bygone Era Jazz Club in Portland. Ryan Bufet came through for me as promised. Without a pause in my stride, I rushed to pack my bags and hurried outside to the main house where Kari sat waiting in the Explorer ready to drive us to the city.

  By the time we reached Portland, my heart was pounding so fast that Kari said she felt it pulsating on her chest when she hugged me goodbye. The interview was scheduled at eleven, which gave me about fifteen minutes to get into the building and announce myself. I inhaled a few puffs from my cigarette before opening the double doors, where I was greeted by a large skinny man in a black suit. “Welcome Steven, I’m John Redman, and this gentleman over here is Robert Bo Bo Smith, our drummer.”

  “Nice to meet both of you,” I said, trying not to stammer my words with anxiousness. Thank goodness neither one of them was much on conversing, because I was a bit unsure if I could get any more words out.

  They informed me of the reason they were searching for a new guitarist. “Many musicians perform at different clubs throughout the United States, however, I have always stayed in Portland,” John told me. “On the other hand, Bo Bo and our former guitarist, Jack, who performed here with us also in this very same nightclub, he played in Seattle, Chicago, and Sacramento, California. Then Jack was offered a permanent job in Sacramento, where his family resides. After traveling most of his career, this was a great opportunity for him that he wasn’t going to pass up. He accepted it right away. As he was pushing sixty-six years old, he figured it was time to settle down and give more to his wife.

  “This brings us now to you, Steven. You have been highly recommended by Ryan Bufet, who also has performed with us over the years. We trust his judgment immensely so you can imagine how excited we are to hear you perform.”

  A wooden chair was positioned on stage awaiting my arrival. John wanted me to set up and start jamming immediately. He stood at my right side on cello, while Bo Bo was on drums further behind me, and to my left. Our music bellowed out in sweet gypsy harmony, as if we’d been performing together for decades.

  I felt myself ease up as my body swayed in motion to John’s bow as it glided over his cello. Then everything just stopped, no music—they left me alone on stage. John moved to the middle of the club floor, took a seat, and then requested I play one of my own compositions.

  I closed my eyes, and then pushed my hat further over my forehead, my guitar hugged into my stomach, and I strummed. Effortlessly, I became lost in the soothing sound of my music; the era swept me away.

  As I glided my fingers over the last string, the room was quiet. Stillness—too much stillness, as seconds passed the intensity crept into my being. I was afraid to make eye contact with them, and then slowly I forced myself to look up. The moment collided as their applause took over.

  With an incredible smile running deep within me I shyly nodded to them.

  “Outstanding, man,” Bo Bo expressed. His face beamed with excitement when he approached me and shook my shoulders.

  “That was absolutely exceptional!” John stood and shook his head in bewilderment. “Okay, Bo Bo and Steven, we perform in two days. Let’s eat some lunch, and get right back here for a jam session.”

  All I could say was, “Thank you, guys, thanks a lot.”

  Bo Bo shook my hand, towering over me with his six-foot frame, I felt like a child as my small hand was nearly covered in his. He was about forty years old, muscular, dark-skinned and looked directly into my eyes when he spoke. Not at all intimidating, but instead, he was one of the genuine guys.

  Later in my hotel room, while eating pizza with Kari and Bryan, I couldn’t stop talking about the fantastic day I had. All my barriers were down as I shared my feelings.

  “We’ll be there Thursday night listening to your music, supporting you, Steven,” Kari said.

  “This is so awesome!” Bryan yelled.

  “Yeah, it’s great that Steven was accepted by the band,” Kari cheered.

  “No,” Bryan said, “I meant this pizza—it’s incredible!” He let out an infectious laugh while he did a little dance.

  Bryan reached for another slice, never missing a step. Kari and I joined in on the fun.

  “Hey, why don’t you guys spend the night here?” I offered.

  “Yeah, sure, but ya know we already planned to. Ha ha, I guess with all that was going on, I forgot to mention it. Because tomorrow morning we register at the college, Bryan and I thought it made perfect sense to sleep here.” Kari ruffled my hair; she leaned in and kissed my pizza sauce lips.

  Chapter 14

  This morning was hard for me watching Kari drive off to school. I felt a little emotional with the realization that we wouldn’t be toget
her every day, like in our summertime. I’m taken by surprise at the fast pace our relationship evolved.

  My previous experiences with girls, which were few, reflected insecurities, mainly theirs since they seemed to have no lasting emotions. Most girls only cared about their false image and clothing. They seldom recognized their inner truths, but instead let fear exceed who they really were.

  However, Kari reflected kindness, inner and outer beauty, everything I admired to be true and real in oneself. That’s probably why I bonded so easily with her. I loved how she laughed all the time, allowing her spirit to shine, and that in return enhanced my feelings of happiness in life.

  * * * *

  Kari pulled onto the school grounds, parked her SUV, then she and Bryan stepped out and stared at the brick façade. “This is really cool,” Bryan said. “Here we are walking on a college campus and all I see are these beautiful girls.”

  “Hey, I thought we were here for the education,” remarked Kari.

  “Well, of course that, too. It’s all about academics but let’s not forget about the importance of life experiences,” he said.

  “Bryan, you have an abundance of energy, which outlasts most people. Try to focus on the academics for once.” Kari grinned.

  The registration office was the second building on campus, and they were surprised how smooth it was to register their classes. Bryan stowed his usual antics and only raised his voice once—when the clerk spelled his name wrong. “That’s Bryan with a Y, BRY, got it!” he said.

  From that day forward, everyone there knew him as Bryan with a Y. They ventured on their own walking down separate corridors in search of their classrooms.

 

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