With a Tilt of My Hat

by Mary Matuskey

  Oohs and aahs came from our mouths. Kari and Jan leaned over the side with their cameras and were able to capture the moment. One of the sails slid down its pole, which slowed the vessel allowing everyone to enjoy the dolphins for a longer time. The skipper was about fifty-five years old, a bearded man with a scruffy voice and huge smile. He wore blue jean shorts and a green t-shirt. He definitely was a people person who delighted in telling stories. I immediately liked him.

  We sailed the waters for three hours. It was awesome to listen to the sounds of ocean life. Plates of French bread and cheese with tomato wedges were passed around, along with water and soda. That topped off our day, as our spectacular journey came to an end.

  Once we were back on land, the outside café looked more appealing than ever, for it was where we first spent our time together. I remember the day Kari was pretending we were tourists as she posed me and took pictures in front of the pier.

  We ordered, then talked for an hour over coffee and brownies. She was having a chocolate craving, and I had no problem joining her on the brownie path. Today I decided this would be a good place to share my news regarding the gig I accepted in Seattle, and to let her know I wished she could join me.

  “A month is a long time to be without you, Kari. I know I’m going to go crazy missing you.”

  “I totally agree, Steven. This break from each other will be torment for me. Maybe my parents would enjoy taking a trip with me for a long weekend up north to see you, and I’m sure I can spare one day of my studies.” She hesitated for a moment, and then added, “It’s more than likely that Dad will have to care for Derelict again, which will prevent him from joining us. He became so attached to that dog when you guys were in the bay area that he bought a one-year-old small collie. Named her DeeDee, and she works the fields side by side with him.”

  “I almost forgot that he took in Bo Bo’s dog,” Steven says. “I know just how Paul feels. I loved dog sitting for Derelict, too.”

  “Anyway, Steven, you’ll be spending your free time with old friends and seeing your mom. I bet she’s excited to have you come home. The time in Seattle will go by fast for you.”

  “I haven’t spoken to my mom yet. I want to wait until I’ve settled in and then I’ll call her. It just makes me uneasy; I don’t know what to say to her. As for friends, I don’t care to see anyone in Washington. I never had very many anyways.”

  Kari must have recognized the anguish in my face, and knowing how hard it would be for her without him, she quickly responded. “Listen, just because Dad won’t be able to go, perhaps I can get Mom or Bryan to take a short trip with me. Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to do, Steven,” she told me, then lightly brushed her lips on mine before leaning inward to kiss me. “Now tell me what’s really been bothering you,” she insisted.

  Discomfort and anxiety welled inside me, I diverted my eyes from her, and gazed far over the sail points. Even farther beyond all points when visions of blood and fast cars came to the surface of my consciousness.

  “When I was sixteen, I went to a party with a couple buddies. One guy had a lot of beer and whiskey. I had a couple glasses of whiskey myself. But that was all I drank. At first I liked the calming effect I felt from the whiskey, but I guess I’m a weakling because after two drinks I became dizzy. I wasn’t much on socializing; however, my parents were concerned about me becoming a recluse. I did have social skills, I just preferred to read or go hiking. Anyways, I tried it, had a couple of drinks, like I said, then sat by the fire listening to some of the guys and girls talk. The night went on like most teenage parties, with music, dancing and drinking.”

  Kari held my hands; she listened intently to my story.

  “My buddy was the one with the car, so he drove two of us home. He was drunk but seemed capable of driving, he wasn’t staggering. When we were about a half a mile from my house, he drove faster. Streets were empty, we were having a good time and thought, what the hell, gun it see what she goes up to. He hit ninety in a thirty zone with no problem. Brought it back down to the speed limit, made a right turn and hit a pedestrian who had crossed his dog midway onto the street. My other buddy and I were so damn scared, we yelled “stop the car, damn it, stop the car.” He just smiled and kept on driving. What the hell, how could he do that? I kept telling him to stop and go back. He wouldn’t, so I opened my car door and rolled out.

  I remember running fast, yet I felt as if I was in slow motion and getting nowhere. His dog sat next to the man unharmed. I bent to check for a pulse. A noticeable but weak pulse beat at his wrist. I then checked his breathing. He wasn’t breathing, so I called 911 and started CPR. I wiped the blood from his mouth with my shirtsleeve. Then placed my mouth over his and began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and alternated with chest compressions. There was a large amount of blood pooling on his chest from his shoulder, which was torn almost completely off at his upper arm.

  Paramedics arrived within a few minutes and took over the chest compressions. He revived soon after that. They stated he would have died if I was not there to do CPR. Tears filled my eyes; I was trembling while I sat on the curb with a police officer. He said I was a hero and an outstanding character of a man. At the time I felt very proud of myself. But I was sad for the whole situation. It was especially hard to turn my buddy in for hit and run. I truly hated my buddy for what he had done.”

  Kari held me tight; there were tears in her eyes, and I felt the wetness through my shirt.

  With a sigh, I inhaled then continued, “When I returned to school, no one spoke to me. There were signs posted in the boy’s bathroom that said, ‘Steven is a squealer’, ‘Cop lover goes against his own kind’, ‘Down with Steven Straws.’ The victim died two weeks later from complications of internal injuries and my so-called buddy was sent to prison for manslaughter. I hated life after that. This how my peers want to live, being sick, selfish people. Well, I didn’t want any part of it. So, I confined myself to my room for the entire summer. I composed music, my guitar was my lifeline, and each string became a stepping stone as I climbed out of darkness.

  “When the school session began in autumn, I therapeutically played my guitar during lunch hour, and sat on the grass hunched over in song. It didn’t take long before others gathered in the grass for lunch, too. Soon a violinist brought a chair outside, placed it next to me, slid his bow across the strings, and we were a duo. From that day on, my life changed again, for the better. Happiness blanked all negatives and I had a new friend.

  “We both respected music and each other’s diversity in songs. A year later, we became the youngest guys to perform in one of Seattle’s nightclubs. We hung out together and often performed for kids in the park. Well, that’s about it. Now you know where some of my sadness comes from. You’re the first person outside my family I told that to.”

  Tears filled her eyes, Kari’s cheeks flushed and through her crying voice she said, “I’m so sorry, Steven, for all you had to go through. I think you’re wrong about people, you and many others in our age group do care about humanity. I’m very happy I chose to love a man with such depth; I love you, Steven, even more so now.”

  Dusk hovered over us as our day came to an end. Kari pulled the car to the front of my house then dropped me off curbside. She needed to get back to Tillamook because she promised her mother she’d help at the Marketplace in the morning. Alone, I tried to hold my thoughts steady when past events tormented my mind. Visions of yellow rope clouded my thoughts, so I lay down on my bedroom floor. Pain, awful physical pain, I felt it in my groin area, those frightened past abductions, why did we have to talk about my past home life! Negatives overpowered my pleasant memories with Kari, now a day now gone.

  Chapter 50

  The phone rang just as Fike put it on the entrance table, thinking, it’s been too long of a day and I don’t want to answer it. I’m tired, so very tired from all the questioning at XXXLadies Club, I’m not even going to look at the caller ID.

  He lifted his hea
vy legs; each footstep pounded loud on the staircase. It seemed like an impossible climb to his bedroom. Finally, in his room, he sat on the edge of the bed removed his shoes, unfastened his belt, and slid it through the pant loops. Trying to stay balanced so he could undress, he stood and swayed from foot to foot then plopped down onto the bed, too tired to undress.

  He sprawled on the king-size bed and was fast asleep, within seconds.

  The doorbell rang, followed by a vicious knock from whoever was behind it.

  “What the hell? Just give me a minute. Stop banging on the door, I’m on my way downstairs!” Fike opened the door and Jones literally pushed her way in.

  “Why haven’t you answered your phone? I’ve tried your cell numerous times.”

  “I’m sleeping. I don’t want to be bothered, I had enough of crappy conversations last night,” Fike said, a bit annoyed at her attitude.

  “I certainly understand that. I feel the same way, but Myrna called with some evidence pertaining to the body fluids obtained from Mr. Johnson’s jacket. Positive DNA match was to Beth Sandford,” Jones said.

  “Do you mean to tell me that little witch was in Oregon with him the whole time?” Fike yelled.

  “I don’t know about that; however, she was there sometime between the motel period and the last murder. Michaels is having her brought in as we speak. Come on, Fike, we’ll stop for coffee on the way to the station. Let’s go.”

  Beth sat fidgeting in room 5 of the interrogation offices. This time she wasn’t alone. Jacobs’s father was now her legal representative. Jones observed the both of them and wondered what Jacob, Sal, and Beth were really into, and how many lives they’d ruined with their sick so-called games.

  “Good morning, counselor. This is Detective Jones, I can’t say it’s nice to see you again,” Fike responded.

  “I feel the same way, Detective. Don’t you have murderers to catch? Why are we wasting time here?” Beth blurted out.

  “There’s been some new development in the case, evidence found which may place Beth at one of the crime scenes, or at least with the killer. A man’s trench jacket has her DNA on it, also the killer’s DNA, and Sal’s DNA. Along with DNA from the older gentleman who was in the motel—the original owner of the jacket. This was the same coat we discovered at the crime scene in the forest of Oregon next to a dead body,” Fike explained.

  “Hold on, detective, Beth isn’t a killer, she merely knew Sal. She went to see him in Oregon for a couple of days. They met in Astoria. Beth was never near any dead body, nor does she know about any such acts,” said Mr. Bell her attorney.

  “Sal said he was scared and confused,” Beth jumped in. “That he needed my comfort, he missed me. He was wearing a long jacket and we had sex. He placed it on the floor like a blanket for us to lie on. He was so fantastic, I had forgotten his vitality, and when—”

  “That’ll be all Beth, we don’t need details,” the counselor said. “What are the charges against Beth, Fike?”

  “What kind of car did Sal drive, and where did you stay for the night?” Jones asked, regaining the conversation.

  “Sal had a bitchin’ blue Mustang, I think it was brand new, and we stayed at a small cabin site off the highway. Shit, I don’t know name of the place.”

  “Did he tell you why he moved to Oregon, what he’s been doing all these months?” Jones continued.

  “No, he just wanted to hold me, said he left because he had used up all Washington had to offer, he was disgusted with its people. That was about it, and I was glad to be with him again,” Beth said and smiled for the first time. “We wandered around Astoria, toured the movie set of Goonies. That’s where they filmed it, ya know. Sal loved looking at the old boats and told me he was on a really cool one in Portland. Said he met some kinky people he hoped to have sex with, but it just didn’t work out well for him.”

  “Did he say what these people looked like? Did he offer more information? Come on, think,” Fike said.

  “Like I told you, cop, he only wanted one thing from me. Sal wasn’t much of a talker; he’s a man of action. I only stayed one night with him, returned here and went back to my job. Honest, I don’t know anything about any murders.”

  “What days were you gone, and what day did you return to work?” Jones asked. “Is there any one person in Astoria who could verify this little trip of yours?”

  “Yes, boss at work, Glatis. She can tell you everything.”

  Mr. Bell got up from his chair. “That’s it, we are through for today, let’s go, Beth. Detective Fike, I believe Beth has given you more than enough information. Obviously, she was not involved in any violent criminal acts. Call me direct if you have further questioning. As for now, please leave her alone,” Mr. Bell stated.

  After they left the room, Jones placed a telephone call to Clark in Portland. She informed him of the investigation and the conclusions with Beth and Jacob. “I would like to give you my and Fike’s perception of this case. We believe Beth and Jacob have told us the truth. They are too immature and display non-violent personalities. However, there is always that one percent we are concerned about, so the door will remain open. We will continue to monitor them. I also want to inform you Officer Pete and myself are heading your way, to further investigate the cabins and motels in Astoria.” Jones ended the call.

  Fike placed a phone call, then thought, I need breakfast, my stomach’s growling louder than the MGM lion. Myrna answered, “Good morning, Fike. It’s early, must be urgent.”

  “Yes, it is, please read me the details on all four victims. What’s the conclusion regarding the marks and cuts near their thighs?”

  “Just a second, Fike, I have them on my desk. First victim had multiple minor lacerations, all less than one inch in length on his upper thigh closest proximity to the groin area where his penis had been severed. The second victim had several minor scratches midway on his thigh, unknown source. Our third victim, the woman, received one fairly deep half-inch laceration on her right thigh only. The fourth victim, Julie had multiple lacerations on both lateral aspects of her legs from her upper hip to her ankle. Several minor scratches were noted on both inner thighs.”

  “Thank you, Myrna, that’s what I wanted to hear. This bastard sure knows how to manipulate a body, doesn’t he?”

  “I was wondering, Fike, if you could elaborate somewhat more on the investigation of the young girl, Beth, you recently questioned,” Myrna asked.

  “She really didn’t present us with any new evidence; however, she helped us understand his behavior patterns. She knew him for about a year, but she claimed she had been sexual with him only a couple times. We merely role-played with others while he watched. I believe her about not participating in any of his violent acts, and that she had no knowledge of his killings. But I don’t trust her because she seems to be in love with Sal. I felt she held something pertinent from us,” Fike said.

  “Thank you. This case just goes on and on, adding new victims and circumstances. I just can’t shake my interest in apprehending this killer,” Myrna replied.

  “Yes, it does keep growing, and it’s hard for me to determine what the ending will bring,” responded Fike.

  “Honestly, I prefer what I do, the non-living and dealing with the factual evidence in determining someone’s cause of death. You and Jones have the difficult task of profiling the emotional behaviors of people and their dealing with such sick actions,” Myrna said.

  “I may hate their actions—let me change that, I do hate their actions. Yet I love the mystery, the chase, the analysis of the criminal and the punishment due,” Fike said.

  “Absolutely, that’s why I consider you to be a great detective. I also know you are an amazing person. Jones always speaks with respect regarding your partnership. Furthermore, she told me you are sincere with women,” Myrna said blushing.

  “Well, that’s my partner, I guess. She is a team player but perhaps this time has over-exaggerated my character,” Fike replied.

 
; Chapter 51

  The doorbell rang twice. Ryan hurried to the front door, obviously anxious to see me. “Hello, Steven, come on in. Follow me to the back office.”

  “What’s the big news?” I asked.

  With a wave of his hand, Ryan pointed to his desk where stacks of CDs sat piled high. They were incredible; the copies of VitalWinds had the three of us on the cover in an amazing art design.

  “Wow! This is fantastic, totally big news!” I told him. “I’m so amazed at the speed with which the company finalized them. How many are there?”

  “Two hundred copies in the box on the floor by the black leather chair. You guys will hand sign one hundred of them, and we’ll take the remaining CDs with us to Seattle to sell at the Blue Waterfront. These on the desk are to be signed with COA’s and will be distributed at no cost to our patrons at The Bygone Era. Also, twenty more will be shipped to Sacramento in honor of Jack,” Ryan said.

  “Sounds great, man. I really like it, but what’s a COA?”

  Ryan moved some folders from his desk, and handed one to me. Written on the top in black ink was Certificate of Authenticity. Further down was typed our three names with, I Declare This Signature. “The band signs the CDs and I concur by signing the COA’s. It’s especially important to a collector. The mass production of the band’s recordings should be in the stores in about six weeks.”

  My mind spun out of control as I absorbed the reality of this and all the events which had unfolded in my recent life.

  “Steven, the photographer will be here soon,” Ryan said.

  “What photographer?”

  “I have a journalist and photographer set up to interview the band this afternoon. It’s important to have publicity.”

  As if on cue, the doorbell rang, and Ryan shuffled down the tiled hallway toward the entrance door. I heard multiple voices, and leaned in the doorframe. A woman had just complimented the décor in the living room.

  Obviously, they were in the gentleman’s room when she mentioned the books. It happened to be my favorite room of the house, with cherry wood bookcases. Two walls held hundreds of first edition books. In the middle of the room, a 1930’s drum table stood proud, with claw feet; a beautiful violin sat upon it. To the left of that, a walnut antique cigar table was prominently displayed with three pipes, along with a beautiful pair of brown leather wingback chairs adjacent to it. The flooring throughout was hardwood, in medium tones, with tile flooring in the hallway that carried into the kitchen. I must agree with the woman’s sighs, Ryan had definitely created a Victorian home.