He said, She said, Murder (He said, She said Detective Series Book 1)

by Jeramy Gates

  “Yes, you do. You went to school with him. You were friends. Would you like to see the yearbook pictures?”

  He shook his head. He leaned forward and fixed his gaze on the table.

  “What aren’t you telling us, Pishard?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You understand we have evidence?” I said. “Meyer had several well preserved items in his coat. A marijuana pipe, for example, and a bottle of booze. We’re searching for fingerprints and D.N.A. evidence right now.”

  Pishard looked at me uncertainly, then turned his gaze on Diekmann and Joe. He straightened himself. “Then you’ll know it wasn’t me, pretty soon,” he said.

  “If it wasn’t you, who was it?”

  “Mr. King, of course.”

  Joe snorted. “Come on, we know better than that.”

  “You don’t know jack,” Pishard said with a smirk. “And whatever that old pervert told you, I guarantee he was jerking you around.”

  Pishard leaned back in the chair and opened his arms. I tried not to show my surprise.

  “That sounds far-fetched,” I said. “Would you care to explain?”

  He grinned at me. He leaned forward and lowered his voice, as if sharing an important secret: “I didn’t actually see it, but I was there that day.”

  “Where?”

  “At the lake, where Myles died.”

  “What happened?” I said.

  “Mr. King liked to hang out with us kids a lot. I mean a lot. He used to party with us.”

  “That’s a serious accusation,” Diekmann said. “Think about what you’re saying.”

  “It’s the truth!” Pishard snarled. “The guy was a creep. I mean, we didn’t realize it. We all just thought he was cool, you know? He liked to party with the kids. He’d buy us booze and get stoned. How many adults would do that?”

  “None that want to stay out of prison,” Diekmann said.

  “I know that now. Like I said, back then we were just stupid kids.”

  “Even if it’s true, that doesn’t prove anything,” I said. “I hope you have a better story than that.”

  I was cautious with my language, trying not to lead him. I wanted him to draw the entire story out of his memory, not out of his imagination. His eyes would tell me which.

  “We were at the lake one day,” he began. “Out at the dairy farm. I’m sure you know the place. It was just the four of us: Ricky, Myles, Mr. King, and me. Ricky and I decided to go for a swim. Myles stayed behind with Mr. King. A few minutes later, we heard a scream. Ricky and I were all the way out in the middle of the lake, so it took a minute to get back to shore. When we got there, Myles was dead. There was a bloody rock on the ground next to him. Mr. King said Myles had fallen down and hit his head.”

  “You don’t believe him?” I said. “That Myles fell?”

  “I did at first, but later I thought about it and remembered a few things. Like the bruise Mr. King had on his cheek, and the way he always used to… we always made a joke of it, but he was very affectionate.”

  I watched him closely for even a flicker of conflicting cues, but there were none. He sat facing me, arms and legs open, eyes dancing occasionally to the right as he sorted through his memories. His body language had been consistent from the moment we met, and as far as I could tell, he was speaking the absolute truth.

  “Why didn’t you go to the police?” I said.

  “Why do you think? We all knew what would happen. Mr. King said we were known as troublemakers, and that when the cops did blood tests and found out what we’d been up to, they would arrest us. He said it would ruin our lives, and the only way out of it was to hide the body so no one would ever know.”

  Diekmann stepped up to the table and leaned close, looking down at Pishard. “That is a very serious accusation, Mr. Pishard. You realize that if I arrest Solomon King under these charges, it will utterly destroy his life?”

  “Good! He deserves it. That dude is a perv.”

  “And you’re willing to testify to all of this, in court?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Chapter 12

  Joe

  We regrouped in Diekmann’s office. Pishard was still in the interrogation room, waiting to be released or booked into custody. Diekmann pulled off his baseball cap and ran a hand through his hair.

  “I can’t hold him,” the sheriff said quietly. “Tanja, your bluff about having evidence was great, but unfortunately, the truth is that we don’t have it, and without it, I can’t charge him. Do you think he was telling the truth about King?”

  “I don’t know if he’s telling the entire truth, but his side of the story makes a lot more sense than King’s, and his body language backed up everything he said in there.”

  “What about King?”

  “He was keeping something from Joe and me. All I got from him was mixed signals. I can’t say how much of what he told us was the truth, but I’m sure that some of it was not. I’m more inclined to believe Pishard, by a long shot.”

  “All right, I trust your judgment. As much as I hate to do it, I guess I’ll cut Pishard loose and go round up Mr. King. This is going to be one heck of a story.”

  “He should still be at the school,” said Tanja.

  Diekmann checked his watch. “I’ll wait for the classroom to empty out, and then bring him in. I’d hate to destroy the man’s career and find out this was all a mistake. Are you two coming with me?”

  “What do you think?” Tanja said.

  The high school was a madhouse when we arrived. We had just missed the bell, and cars were streaming through the neighborhood streets like ants on a picnic basket. Tanja and I discussed the case as we made our way through traffic. At last, we pulled through the tall metal gates to the high school campus.

  “Seems like we were just here,” I said in a sarcastic voice.

  “That’s because we were. I can’t say I’m surprised, though.”

  “I am. I never would have pegged King as a pedophile, much less as a killer. He seems so… I don’t know, distinguished I guess.”

  “The word pedophile may be a bit extreme in this case,” Tanja said. “These are high school kids we’re talking about. They’re almost adults.”

  “Grandpa used to have a saying: Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.”

  “Yes, but kids that age are already sexually active,” Tanja said. “Does it really make a difference if they choose a lover who is seventeen years old instead of eighteen?”

  “Legally, it does. Besides, we’re not talking about an eighteen year old. We’re talking about a teacher who holds power over these kids. Anybody who takes advantage of a situation like that is a scumbag.”

  “Is everything black and white to you?”

  “It is today.”

  “What about Pishard?”

  I frowned at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Admit it, you wanted him to be the killer just because you don’t like him.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Pishard’s a punk either way, and if he ever comes close to my family again, he’ll regret it.”

  I smiled grimly as I pulled into a parking spot and turned off the ignition. As I parked, I saw two police cruisers coming down the lane behind us.

  “Let’s go get a bad guy,” I said.

  We joined Diekmann and his deputies, and then crossed the parking lot and made our way towards King’s classroom. When we got there, we found the door locked.

  “He’s not here,” Tanja said. “We’d better check with the front desk.”

  “I already did,” said Diekmann. “I called on the way over here, and they told me he’d be here until five.”

  Tanja turned to face me with a worried look. “We spooked him, Joe. He’s making a run for it.”

  Diekmann radioed the station and found King’s address. He told us to meet him there. It was just across town, so we were all there in five minutes. Between the two squad cars, Diekmann’s truck, and our Suburban, it l
ooked like his house was being raided. The entire neighborhood came out to see what was going on.

  Unfortunately, there was nothing going on. King’s house was dark and empty, and it only took a minute to verify that he was gone.

  “He’s definitely on the run,” Tanja said. “He made a huge mess in the bedroom, packing his things.”

  “He could be at the airport by now,” I said. “Or halfway to the next state.”

  As we left the house, one of the neighbors watching us caught my eye. It was the skateboarding girl we’d seen outside King’s classroom. I approached her.

  “Do you know Mr. King?” I said. She nodded, and her bangs fell over her eyes. She swiped them away with her left hand, and I caught a glimpse of a tattoo.

  “You just missed him,” she said. “He came by the house about an hour ago, and then took off in a hurry.”

  “Did he say anything about where he was going?” Tanja said.

  “No.”

  “How about luggage?” I asked. “Did he have a suitcase or duffel bag with him?”

  “Yes, he had a bag. The strange thing was that I waved at him as he was leaving, but he ignored me. Mr. King is usually really friendly, but this time he looked right at me and didn’t even say ‘Hi’ or anything. It was like he looked right through me.”

  “Thanks,” Tanja said.

  Diekmann walked up to us wearing rubber gloves and carrying a pump action shotgun. “One of the men found this inside,” he said.

  Tanja gasped. “Is that it? Was he the one who shot at us?”

  “Can’t be sure yet,” Diekmann said. “Don’t worry, we’ll find out. In the meantime, I’ve issued a B.O.L.O. We’re going to look for some family, see if anyone has heard from him. I’m afraid there’s not much more we can do at this point. The two of you might as well call it a day.”

  “Will you let us know as soon as you hear something?” Tanja said.

  “Absolutely.”

  Half an hour later, we were back at home, staring at our empty fridge. “Do you think Diekmann will still pay us if they don’t catch Mr. King?” Tanja said.

  “Of course he will. He said we’d get paid to solve the case. We did that, didn’t we?”

  “I guess so. I hope you’re right, Joe. We may be caught up on the mortgage now, but in thirty days, it will start all over again.”

  I put my arms around her and pulled her close. “I told you, everything is going to be fine. I told you we’d solve the case. We did. Now I’m telling you that Diekmann will pay us. We can trust him.”

  “I know,” she said, dissolving into my chest. “Sometimes it’s just too much.”

  “We still have some cash left in the bank,” I said. “We can get some food.”

  “The Suburban is almost out of gas.”

  “Credit card.”

  “We’re down to our last hundred dollars on the card.”

  “I said everything would be okay. I didn’t say we weren’t cutting it close.”

  “Joe, I want to go to bed.”

  “Are you serious? What about dinner?”

  She pulled away and gave me a wincing look. “Can’t I do both?”

  I laughed. “This is way too much stress for you right now. Go get in bed. I’ll run to the store.”

  “Are you sure? I can go with you.”

  “Don’t make me pull rank,” I said. “Get in bed. That’s an order.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “An order, huh? What if I make a run for it, tough guy? You gonna chase me down with your walker?”

  “Shouldn’t be hard, the way you waddle.”

  She punched me in the shoulder, giggling as she did it. I gave her one last kiss before walking out the door. On the way out, I set the alarm, just to be sure. I didn’t think King would show back up at our house, but I wasn’t taking any risks. I had a feeling that Tanja would be keeping her Glock close at hand as well.

  Traffic was slow, and standing in line at the checkout was even slower. Five lanes were open, not counting the self-checks, and each had a line five customers deep. The self-checks were mostly empty, but that was no use to anyone because alcoholic beverages couldn’t be purchased through self-check. That meant everyone who had any alcohol, as in my case, a six-pack of pale ale, had to wait in line.

  By the time I was finally out of the store, it was pouring rain and the wind had begun to blow. I tossed the bag of groceries in the back, jumped into the driver’s seat, and turned up the heat. All the way home, all I could think about was a warm meal, a cold beer, and crawling into bed with my wife. But as I pulled into our driveway, Tanja came running out the front door with her belly swaying back and forth and her hood pulled up over her head

  “What are you doing?” I said as she jumped into the car.

  “Joe, we have to go!”

  “Go where? What’s the matter?”

  “After you left, I got to thinking about Mr. King. I was trying to figure out where he had gone. At first, I thought he was heading to another state to hide out with relatives. But of course, he knew that would be the first thing we expected, and if he had to give up his entire life, it would make more sense to leave the country.”

  “I know. That’s why Diekmann issued a B.O.L.O.”

  “I know that, Joe. That’s the problem. That’s not where he’s going.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Think about it. If you were in his shoes, what would you do? Leave your whole life behind and make a run for another country, hoping not to get caught at the airport? Hoping that later on, you wouldn’t be extradited back here anyway? Of course not! Why would King go through all that when all he really needs to do is get rid of the one last witness!”

  “You think he went after Pishard?”

  “I’m sure of it, Joe. I tried calling the cell phone number on the business card Pishard gave us but he didn’t answer. Then I tried the boat dealership, but nobody was answering there, either.”

  I considered that. “It does seem odd that nobody would answer at the dealership. How late are they open?”

  “His card says seven p.m. I think we should check there first.”

  I sighed, thinking of the cold six-pack in the back seat. I backed out of the driveway and headed for the onramp. “Are you sure we shouldn’t just let them kill each other?” I grumbled.

  “That is one more possibility we haven’t even considered yet,” Tanja said absently.

  “What might that be?”

  “Maybe they’ve been working together all along.”

  I tried to wrap my head around that. “I suppose it’s just as possible as anything else. If it’s true, then Pishard warned King the minute Diekmann cut him loose.”

  “Which may be exactly why we can’t find either one of them.”

  “I like the idea of them killing each other better. I guess that would be just too easy.”

  “And far too satisfactory,” Tanja said with a grin.

  We pulled into the dealership at six p.m. The gate was open, and the lights were on. It was still raining, and Shane came out with an umbrella to greet us as we were parking. I rolled down the window far enough to talk. He recognized me instantly, and gave me a wary look.

  “You need something?” he said.

  “Is your boss here?”

  “He headed out to Bodega a couple hours ago.”

  “Bodega?” Tanja said. “What for?”

  “That’s where our warehouse is.”

  “What’s the address?”

  “I’m not supposed to give out that information.”

  “If you’re trying to protect your boss, you don’t have to worry. This is for his safety.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

  “This is a criminal investigation,” Tanja said. “If you don’t give us that address, I’ll make sure you’re charged with obstruction.”

  “You’re not even cops,” he said with a sneer. “I should call the police and have them arrest you for harassment,
and trespassing.”

  I opened the door and stepped out of the car. Staring at him with the rain pouring down over my face, I said, “You’re right, we’re not cops. Which means I can get away with all kinds of stuff cops can’t.”

  “If you touch me, I’ll sue.”

  “You don’t have any witnesses, and I’m not leaving here without that address. So how do you want me to get it?”

  He glanced around, and realized I was speaking the truth. No one was out in that rain, and if there was anyone in the office, they couldn’t see us. If anything went down between the two of us, it was his word against mine. I let him assume my wife would side with me, which wasn’t necessarily the case, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

  “Seventy-five hundred Pelican Way.”

  “Thanks.”

  Shane went trudging through the rain back towards the office, presumably to call the police. I climbed back into the car and put it in gear.

  “I keep warning you about your temper,” Tanja said as I drove out of the lot.

  “Relax, I didn’t touch him.”

  “No, you didn’t have to because he saw what happened when you touched his boss.”

  “That was self-defense.”

  “Do you have an answer to everything?”

  “Do you have a complaint about everything?”

  “It’s my prerogative.”

  “You have a lot of those,” I said, turning on the stereo.

  I took the most direct route to Bodega Bay, which is about as direct as the flight path of a bumblebee on cocaine. Traffic on Highway 12 was smooth until just outside Sebastopol. Halfway through town, I merged onto Bodega Highway, a narrow, winding two-lane road that meanders through the countryside for about fifteen miles before dead-ending into Highway 1 at the coast.

  Needless to say, even when traffic picked up, it was still slow going. The rain slacked off just enough for the fog to close in. The roads were slicker than snot on a glass doorknob, as Grandpa used to say, and visibility was down to a few yards.

  Twenty minutes later, we hit Highway 1. The fog lifted, but as we left the shelter of the coastal hills, a gale force wind came roaring in off the Pacific. Between the wind and the driving rain, I had a tough time just keeping the Suburban between the lines.