With a Tilt of My Hat

by Mary Matuskey

  Officer Pete stepped outside to retrieve his camera from the car then shot several pictures before he removed and bagged the item. He also took one more picture of the chain as it curled in the evidence bag. They extended their sincere appreciation to Ed, who was excited to be part of a murder investigation and hoped he would be interviewed for a television segment.

  Once they were outside, Jones placed a call to Clark at the Portland police station to update him on the find. “Being that it was discovered, tagged, and bagged in Oregon, we understand fully the legal right to turn it over to your jurisdiction.”

  Clark made it clear that all information pertaining to laboratory results would be presented to Myrna in Washington immediately following tests.

  While they waited for an officer to arrive so they could transfer the evidence to Portland PD, they decide to have a bite to eat at the open café, which ran along Astoria’s boardwalk. Overwhelmed by the intensity of this case, they welcomed a rest period.

  Chapter 55

  What an exhilarating night it was for the band at Bygone Era. I was astounded with wonderment at our performance. I didn’t know how we could top it the next day. That would be our final show before we left for Seattle. The plan was to have the band give personal signings of our CD and hand out photographs to all of our patrons.

  “Wasn’t that just fantastic the way John swung his cello around the stage?” Kari said, radiating with enthusiasm.

  “It was more than anyone expected and when the crowd chanted our name to the beat of Bo Bo’s last drum stroke, we were elated.”

  “You know, Steven, VitalWinds is going to soar in Seattle. Just don’t forget me and how our love holds strong in Portland here in this neighborhood,” Kari said.

  “I know that. Portland has been more than generous to me. John and Bo Bo have given me such unconditional acceptance in their band. This would be the place I’d like to expand my roots in the future, perhaps settle with you and have a family of our own.”

  “Would that mean getting married?” Kari asked shyly.

  “Perhaps,” I said, while kissing her neck. Kari’s hair was scented like strawberries. It brushed my cheeks, drawing me lower to her breast. Her nipples hardened, pointing up to me while my tongue encircled each one. I sucked erotically. I arched my back. I could barely hold her anymore, so I moved slowly to the floor.

  I took my time removing her clothes, which aroused both of us. I needed this selfish act; Kari continued to fondle me until I burst through my jeans exposing myself when she pulled them past my waist. Consciously, I hoped that tonight’s lovemaking would remain in my memory for the next month. With eyes closed, captivated by her body, we formed into one, like composing a song.

  From nighttime pleasures to the morning sunrise, I noticed bagels, cream cheese, and melon slices on a platter on the bedside table. A note read:

  See you at the club tonight; I’ll be the one beaming with joy at how you fulfilled me last night. Love, Kari.

  I broke off a piece of bagel and picked up a cup of coffee and walked out to the backyard for breakfast. The sound of my friend the woodpecker was heard and I moved my chair closer to view him on his favorite tree. Sprinkles of cold rain plopped in my coffee cup. A couple of squirrels chased each other up the neighbor’s tree, while robins chirped in song above. This is where I wanted to stay, for the calmness of this place has become my home.

  * * * *

  Later that night, I entered the club. Ryan looked quite debonair, suited up in black jacket and wearing a fedora adorned with blue-gray feathers. Next to him were photographs of the band framed nicely on a table along with our CDs. “Take a seat, Steven. The guys are setting up the stage. They’ll join us soon to autograph these CDs.”

  Embarrassed by the entourage of media glitz, I felt sharp glass gnawing in my stomach. Stared down at the floor in silence, alone—I tried to compose myself before picking up a pen.

  “Oh, I’m so happy I’m one of the first to arrive, please, Jazzman, autograph this for me.” She handed me her CD and I fondly inscribed,

  My favorite lady with the three birds in her hat. Best wishes to you in this heavenly life, Jazzman Straws.

  Next in line was Mr. Jackson from the main bar. “Hey, man, you gotta be on top of the clouds tonight. I’m really gonna miss you guys, but I’ll be jamming every day to these tunes.” He held the CD high above his head.

  “Thanks buddy,” I told him as I signed: To Jackson: best bartender in America.

  The signings continued this way for an hour longer.

  Finally, it was time to for the band to perform. I sat on stage with guitar neck in hand. My mind quickly drifted into song; delicately my fingers plucked the strings. The sound of wisp brushes echoed on the drum head; in all his glory Bo Bo swayed about the night. John came in strong on cello. Like a sweet breeze of honeysuckle, Ryan joined in, his violin bow glided perfectly in rhythmic form transpiring our trio to a quartet.

  I caught a glimpse of Kari swinging on the floor as she danced with Bryan. I couldn’t help but smile. With a slight tilt of my head, I showed her my love and winked at her when our gazes met. Colorful scarves and dresses flowed like silk angels in the air. A quick two-step pause, then we took it up a beat, playing right into the next song. Strumming sounds of jazz exploded in the room when we jammed to climactic level.

  I was so elated tonight, overtaken by the beauty of our music. Every fiber ran through my veins, its heat burned the fires of never-ending joy. Song after song, applause after applause, and the crowd appreciated our music. I practically jumped out of my seat on the last note and bowed with pride.

  During the break, I spotted Joanne and Paul standing by the back wall with a group of friends. “Hey guys, it’s absolutely wonderful to see you.”

  I received affectionate hugs from both of them, which nearly brought tears to my eyes. My thoughts were filled with the moments when we first met, and our time together when I performed at their ranch.

  “We had to come and wish Gypsy Jazzman the best of luck. Also, I made a special gift for you.” Joanne placed something in my hand.

  I removed the gift from its bag, and held a small piece of pottery shaped like a guitar except there was an indentation at the middle.

  “Hold it in your hand, Steven. Now place your thumb where it dips, and rub it back and forth,” Joanne explained.

  “Feels real smooth and relaxing,” I replied.

  “Yes, I thought it might be a good source for relaxation, you know when there isn’t time to fully meditate in Seattle.”

  “It’s an excellent gift.” I hugged her again. “Thank you very much.”

  Chapter 56

  The cabin’s main room was much larger than it had appeared the first time Officer Bob was there. He observed everything around him as he followed Elizabeth inside.

  Elizabeth introduced them. “Bob, this is Ann, my realtor.”

  “It is very nice to meet you, Bob. I understand you two met by chance the other day.”

  “We did indeed. I hope it was for both our benefit,” Bob replied.

  The ladies left him to explore the cabin on his own.

  This allowed Bob to pursue each area in his own time frame. Elizabeth and Ann sat outside at the same table where he had water with her the other day.

  Now that he was in total investigation mode, Bob peered into every nook and cranny hoping to find a piece of evidence to nail that sick bastard killer. He needed just one piece of the guy’s personal belongings that may have been left behind. The bedroom was small with a queen size bed and matching dresser. One table lamp and mirror with a framed wilderness print hung above the bed. Inside the closest, at first glance it appeared to be empty, but a closer look towards the back corner shelf was a shoebox. He wondered if Elizabeth realized it was there. Perhaps she didn’t see its outer edges from where she had stood. Bob removed the box and set it on the closet floor and opened the lid. He was totally surprised at its contents.

  Inside w
ere two small pieces of blue material, one ball of string, one instant medical cold compress, and a pocketknife. He opened the knife to inspect for blood. The blade’s shiny silver seemed to be brand new and never used. Bob took a couple photographs with his cell phone, then put the lid over the box, and slid it back into its original place on the shelf.

  The next room he encountered was the bathroom, primarily because he had to relieve his bodily functions. Nothing noted under the sink cabinet but toilet paper. He finished, and then proceeded to the kitchen, which was immaculate. Each cupboard’s contents consisted of the usual plates and glassware, and some nice pots and pans.

  The table was neatly set with dinnerware for four people. Out of habit, Bob rubbed his hands along the sides of the table as he sat down on a chair. His finger caught on something. He crouched on his knees, looked under the table and saw a knife taped to the wood top. This particular knife didn’t appear to be new. Bob walked toward the fireplace sorting out his reasons why a knife would be taped there. He took a moment to assess and comprehend this.

  A click sounded as the front door opened and Elizabeth entered. Bob smiled affectionately at her, and quickly said, “Thank you for allowing me to tour your cabin.”

  “How do you like my place?” she asked.

  “I can’t help but admire the brickwork on your fireplace. Did your husband build it?” Bob asked.

  “No, he had a contractor do all the work starting with the foundation. But my husband designed the cabin with all its features; he was a brilliant man. My sons learned to fish and hunt while we vacationed here. It was important to him that the boys knew survival techniques. Actually, he made me learn how to shoot a rifle, how to protect myself with a knife, and how to fish and pick the safest berries to eat. Speaking of knives, I completely forgot to mention that we kept one taped under the kitchen table,” Elizabeth said.

  “My husband and oldest son George fished the creek side, while Steven and I baked cookies. I loved baking in the cabin; it was amazing, the lingering aroma. All of a sudden the door flew open, banged against the wall and knocked over my deer statue. This totally frightened the both of us. A drunken man raced in babbling about his wife having an affair with her co-worker. I knew deep inside that he would have harmed me if not for the fact that Steven was at my side.

  “His expression softened to embarrassment and shame. I don’t think he recognized where he was, so he turned and left just as fast as he arrived. I shook so bad when Leon and John returned, I broke down crying, unable to control my tears any longer. After I settled and the boys were in bed, Leon explained to me how to pull the knife from its case and to protect myself if I had to stab an intruder. He figured the table would work best for me, because I frequently sat there having coffee or writing short stories.”

  All right, I thought, this woman is not harboring a violent man, nor do I believe she is involved in any criminal activity. As for the shoebox, that is pertinent and I will document the information and pass it on to Detective Fike. But for the present moment, I want to remain in the niceties of Elizabeth’s Straws personal company.

  “Shall we go outside? I’d like to walk the grounds with you,” Bob said.

  Just beyond the table and chairs, a small flowerbed enhanced the left side of the cabin. Bob looked further out to grasp the full beauty of the land.

  * * * *

  Ann watched her friend walk next to Bob—there seemed to be a subtle calmness between them. Elizabeth couldn’t help notice his blonde hair combed to the side, and thought Bob was a handsome man, with nice strength about him.

  “Elizabeth, can you see the deer over there?” Bob pointed. “Look, a mother and fawn are grazing on a sloop several yards away from us.”

  Elizabeth turned towards his left side, gently fluttered when she brushed against his arm to view the deer. “You will notice a lot of wildlife on the property, Bob, which is an added bonus to living in my cabin.”

  They were approaching the shed. Bob hated to ask about it; he didn’t want to put on his police hat just yet. He enjoyed the company of Elizabeth so much that he pushed aside the true purpose of his visit. This was an investigation; he was a police officer who knew full well what items were in a toolbox beyond those shed doors. “Nice shed, it seems to be about twelve by twelve foot square, and in very good condition. May I go inside? I’d like to see the location of any shelving space.” Bob nearly stumbled over his words.

  She hesitated, and then responded with an apologetic phrase about not having the key, and reassured him that it was nothing more than the average tool shed with plenty of shelf space.

  “I think that about covers the tour of my property, Bob. What are your thoughts thus far? Do you have an interest in possibly pursuing a contract?” Elizabeth asked in a rushed voice.

  Startled by the sudden change in her tone, which went from friendly to cordial-professional, Bob took a step backwards. He rested his boot on a rock for a second, as he pretended to ponder her question. “The living area in the cabin is smaller than what I want. I have to think ahead to the possibility of me having a future family some day. I’d like to have some more time in which to make my decision. Thank you for taking the time to show me around today.” Bob shook her hand goodbye.

  Chapter 57

  Seattle welcomed us as it welcomes everyone who arrives in its friendly city, with gray skies and rain. Our hotel was fabulously adorned with sculptures; some as large as twenty feet tall stood on the hardwood lobby floor.

  My bedroom décor was complementary to its lobby, with the added comfort as a bedroom should be. I was happy to have a large bay window glistening with light as the sky peeked through with its city streets below. A small refrigerator was stocked with vitamin water, soda, and raw veggies, along with a note from the club owner welcoming me to Seattle.

  The phone on the nightstand rang. I was greeted by, “Hello, we have arrived with the instruments. Would you like your guitar brought up or sent to the jazz club?” the driver asked.

  “I’d like you to bring it up to my room as soon as possible, thank you.” I had specifically asked for a room that had a lock on the closet door so I could keep my guitar with me at all times. If I awoke at midnight from a disturbing dream, the security of playing music would soothe me. After the crewman left, I strummed some songs for twenty minutes then locked it in the closet and headed down to the street.

  The wind nearly knocked me into a woman passing by. I held tight to my umbrella, yet I couldn’t refrain from smiling at her. For even in the rain, Washington filled my heart with childhood comforts. Thoughts of my dad flooded to the surface of my mind: he held my hand as we walked past the marketplace. Stopping for a moment, he lifted me high in his arms allowing me to see the fishermen throw fish to customers. I remember how that scene made me laugh when the large men in their yellow waders slung those fish back and forth to each other, like they were playing catch with a ball.

  Wow, I jumped back onto the sidewalk just in time to miss getting hit by a bus, which had slowed to stop. The moment disrupted a sweet memory with my dad. I started to walk when I looked up and saw the statue of the famous windy umbrella that flipped backwards; it had always been a favorite of mine. How I loved the street life.

  The skyscrapers faced the street, enclosing the metropolitan life in Seattle, setting a mood of high energy while people went about their everyday business. I always loved the old brick buildings adorned with their hanging flowers for all commuters to enjoy. Seattle is the friendliest city, its vibes fulfill my happiness and I was once again engulfed with its grand atmosphere.

  Awed, I came upon one of my favorite coffee shops. I shook out my umbrella before I entered for a cappuccino. As I made my way towards a back table, a woman bumped me—and I nearly stabbed a customer with the end of my umbrella. With a coy smile, she looked at me. “I’m so sorry to have bumped you. Please, why don’t you take a seat, you are welcome to join me.”

  I was bewildered by her weird behavior; howev
er, I did want to sit to enjoy some coffee, so I accepted her offer. Considering it was the only chair available...

  “Hi, my name is Heather. I apologize for pushing you but I really needed this table, I have papers to write and most likely will be stuck here for hours.”

  “Well, I was a little surprised by your abruptness, but it’s no problem. My name is Steven.”

  “Do you live here, Steven, or are you visiting our beautiful state?”

  “I’m a musician and will be performing at the Blue Waterfront Club for the next month. My band plays a variety of gypsy jazz music, I play guitar and compose songs.”

  With a flirtatious smile, she responded, “I’ll have to check it out.”

  Heather appeared to be thirty-five years old; she had beautiful light brown hair with eyes to match. She gave off an aura of youthfulness when she spoke, and I was surprised by my focus of attention toward her.

  “I usually like sitting outside by the waterfront to watch the sailboats glide by, however today the rain doesn’t seem to want to lighten up,” Heather said.

  “What line of work are you in?” I asked.

  “I’m a psychologist, specializing in criminal behavior, at an office with two psychiatrists. One of them has completed hundreds of case studies throughout his career,” Heather responded.

  “That sounds very intriguing, Heather. It was nice meeting you, but I must venture forth.”

  “Hey, Steven, perhaps I’ll check you out at that jazz club,” she shouted as I exited through the front door.