“I’m sorry, B,” he muttered as Byung helped a naked Anderson into a warm bed. The last thing he remembered before letting the darkness in was Byung smiling at him and saying four simple words.
“I got your back.”
* * * *
Roger searched through the station until he found Sam in the crime lab.
“Sam, Anderson Williams was just by and said that someone tore a page outta that book and he ended up with it somehow. When I went to show him where the book was being kept, it was gone. Someone removed the book from the non-evidence storage file before I could return it to Williams,” Roger said.
“What? How the hell is that possible in this police station? Someone just walked right in and entered what is supposed to be a secured area and removed an item from it without anyone questioning a stranger walking around? I don’t believe it!” Sam replied.
“I don’t know what to say. While we were still talking, he got a phone call and dropped the cell phone onto the floor and ran out of the station. I don’t know what the hell is going on now.”
Sam and Roger walked back up to the area that was supposed to be secured. “Roger, did you do as I asked and scan the pages of the book that we were interested in?”
“Sure did. In fact, I scanned the entire book just to be sure we would not need the original again for anything.”
“Have you checked to see if the copies are still here?” Sam asked.
Sam began to look in the storage area when Roger stopped him. “I didn’t put the copies in there; they’re in my desk drawer.”
They both ran to Roger’s desk and were relieved to find the copies right where they were left by Roger the night before. “Okay, get a second set of these copied and secure that set in the evidence safe. I know no one can get to them there unless they are a cop,” Sam asked.
“Sam, let’s look the file area over to see if we notice anything that might indicate how they got into the file locker to get the book.”
“Okay, this damn case is becoming the biggest pain in the ass that I have had in my entire police career. The lab was able to life one print off of the surveillance equipment that I removed from William’s house. There running it now through NCIC to try and find a match.”
“Ha! We should be so lucky,” Roger replied.
After several minutes of looking the secured file area over and not finding anything that would give them any answers, they began walking back to their office. As they passed the first desk outside the file area, Sam’s heart froze as did his feet.
There sitting on a detective’s desk was a single bud vase with a solitary Lady Green Slipper Orchid resting in two inches of water.
“Holy shit! Roger, it’s that damn orchid again! This can’t be just a coincidence; it’s just too damn convenient!”
A voice from behind them startled them both. “What can I do for you guys? That’s my desk” said a burly young detective.
“That flower, where did you get it?” Sam blurted out.
“I don’t know. I came back from the men’s room and it was sitting on my desk. Why, what’s the big deal? Are you jealous that I might have a secret admirer?”
“A secret admirer? Well my dear fellow, if you do, I might hasten to advise you that it is more than likely a man and one who likes to cut people up into big chunks. Do you still feel flattered?”
The young detective turned a whiter shade of pale and sat down at his desk staring at the orchid. “Get an evidence tech up here to dust this area and to tag and bag both the vase and the bud,” Sam ordered.
“Roger, check with the desk sergeant and find out who came in here with a flower if he knows and if he saw anyone leaving with a book.”
As Roger and the young detective performed their tasks, Sam tried to call Anderson and only realized after a few moments that he no longer had his cell phone. “Damn that idiot!” He then dialed Anderson’s home phone and left a message for Anderson to call him right away.
“Sam! The desk sergeant says the only civilian that’s been in here was a floral delivery guy who had a couple of boxes of flowers and left with one,” Roger said.
“What flower delivery guy takes flowers back out with him? That’s how the damn book got out of here. Shit! Was he able to give a description of the guy?” Sam asked.
“No. He said he doesn’t usually pay attention to a delivery guy with flowers,” Roger answered.
“Hey Andy,” Byung shook Anderson awake while extending a cordless phone to him. “I had your messages forwarded here. Sam’s left you a message. He wants you to call him.”
Anderson moaned and rolled to face the wall. He didn’t feel like facing anyone at that moment, especially Sam. “Did he find my father’s book?”
“I don’t know,” Byung muttered.
“Then anything he has to say to me, he can say it through Jack.”
“Andy, do you really need a lawyer for this?” Byung sounded frustrated so Anderson rolled to face his friend. He studied Byung’s eyes for a while before taking a deep breath. He pressed his eyes closed and pushed a gust of air out his mouth. With a tired smile he took the phone from Byung’s hands and dialed Sam’s number.
“You know, you make everything seem so easy,” Anderson told Byung.
“That’s why I’m the best friend,” Byung shrugged. “Now call your man and get this over with.”
“He’s not my man,” Anderson made a face. “Hello?”
“Anderson, Sam here. Where the hell are you? When you ran out of the station here you dropped your cell phone and I haven’t been able to get to you. Look, the murderer is the one who swiped your father’s book. He left a damn orchid sitting on a desk just outside the non-evidence storage area to let us know that it was him. We’re checking now to find out how he got in and out of here, but it looks like he posed as a floral delivery guy. Also, we got lucky for once. They found a clear print on one piece of the surveillance equipment that we got from your house. It’s being run now to see if we get a hit.”
Anderson flopped back against the pillows and pressed his eyes shut. Byung touched him and when he opened his eyes Byung mouthed that he was going to get Anderson a drink. With a nod, Anderson turned his attention back to the phone. “Ok,” he said simply. “I wish I was childish enough to say I told you so but I don’t have the energy. What can I do for you?”
“Okay, so it’s like that, huh? Fine. Mr. Williams, we need you to take a look at the photos from the book that have the group of men together under the heading of ‘Russell Trust Association’ and tell us if you know who the fourth black man in the picture is. The other three blacks have been murdered, including your father. We need to know who the fourth guy is and if you saw him lately anywhere near your father. I feel like we are on the edge of figuring this all out, but there are still a couple of missing pieces. Whatever your problems are, you need to forget them and help us with information that might lead to your father’s murderer. Finally, just remember, your cooperation could save the life of another man on the suspect’s hit list. And before you say it, we have copies of the entire book for you to both look at and have if you wish. When can you get to the station?” Sam asked.
“You don’t know what my problem is?” Anderson sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I…” he stopped and cleared his throat. When he spoke again his voice as defeated—he surrendered. “I cannot believe that I actually feel something for you. I actually thought that we could go further than just a simple fuck but you know something, I have lousy luck with men. I should have stopped trying years ago but when I saw you, I figured, he has a job, he’s a cop so maybe, just maybe he’ll be different from the others. But you’re just like them. All you do is take and take and take—I told you not to take my father’s book but you didn’t listen. I told you it was too fragile to go anywhere near a photocopier. It was the only thing I have left from my mother and father together and now I don’t even have that. You took my heart; you took my parent’s memory…what more do you want fr
om me? I don’t have anything left.” Anderson wanted nothing more than to tell this man to go screw himself but his father’s killer and getting him caught came first. He inhaled deeply and nodded his head though he knew Sam couldn’t see him, “I’ll grab a bite to eat, take a shower then I’ll be down,” He said instead then hung up.
“Why do I get the feeling that it didn’t go well?” Byung sat on the edge of the bed.
“It didn’t.” Anderson admitted. “I all but told him I loved him then told him to speak to my lawyer. He had the nerve to tell me he didn’t know what my problem was. He fucked me then sneaks out and then begins acting like I peed in his coffee. That hurt me but not as much as him losing my father’s and mother’s legacy. How can I trust a man like that?”
Silence fell over the two as they sat on the bed. Byung moved his body to place the cup he had been holding to the ground before climbing back on to lay next to Anderson.
“You know what really sucks now?” Anderson wanted to know.
“No…what?”
“I still love him.”
“I know Andy.”
Silence once more.
“I’m going to eat something and head on down to the station to look at some pictures,” Anderson broke the quiet.
“Even after your little confession?” Byung pointed to the phone.
Anderson sighed. No matter what he did he couldn’t win. “I’m just gonna have to suck it up. I don’t have a choice. I’m just going to look at the pictures and hope they drag some memory back.”
“And Sam?”
“What about him?” Anderson wanted to know.
“You know what.”
“There’s nothing I can do about us personally now,” Anderson rolled his shoulders. “We’re pretty much fried. I’ve learnt a long time ago that you can’t force love on or from someone and you shouldn’t fall in love after the first screw. Lesson learned. But if I can help get the bastard that took Dad then I’m going to do it. I’ll deal and get over it.”
Sam looked at the phone in his hand after Anderson hung up. It dawned on him finally that Anderson was unable to separate Sam the cop from Sam the potential boyfriend. What Anderson didn’t realize was that Sam had to do the things he needed to do in order for his job to be done right. Sam looked at things a lot differently when he was off duty and Anderson did not realize that. This was his own fault, Sam realized. If he could keep Anderson calmed down enough after the police part of his visit was done, then he would see what he could do about their personal lives.
“Roger, get the set of photos from the book and get them set up in interview room Three. Anderson Williams will be coming in to look at them and to answer more questions,” Sam said.
* * * *
It took Anderson a good hour and a half to get to the station house. He had ordered pizza for both himself and B then took a shower and changed into a pair of Byung’s blue jeans and a black dress shirt. After dabbing on some aftershave, he ate and spent a while on the phone with a funeral home. He had to make arrangements for the funeral and to have his father buried beside his mother. That was what his father would have wanted. It was beginning to get dark but Anderson needed some air to clear this head before he faced Sam. He borrowed his friend’s motorcycle and helmet, the insurance stuff and grabbed his licenses from his wallet. He left everything else at Byung’s except a credit card—just in case. When he walked into the station, a few officers glanced at him as though to say “here we go again,” but Anderson didn’t care.
“Sam Morgan please,” he spoke with the helmet under one arm.
“I’ll see if Detective Morgan can see you,” said the officer with a smirk. He remembered Anderson from the last time he was in the precinct and created a lot of drama.
The phone on Sam’s desk buzzed, and the desk sergeant on the other end told him that Anderson had finally shown up.
“Roger, show time—Anderson Williams is here. You go ahead and go to room Three and I’ll get him.”
As Sam walked towards the front desk sergeant’s area, he wondered how to handle the situation of doing his job while trying to let him know that he cared about him. Sam guessed it was in Anderson’s hands on how things went.
“Hello Mr. Williams, this way please,” Sam said to Anderson.
“Hello,” Anderson replied and followed. He said nothing else. He was trying to take some of his friend’s positive energy and breathe. That’s what he would do. He would not show what was going on within him, inside his head. He’s going look at the pictures, answer the questions and go back to Byung’s. He was going to mark some papers or go out and get laid—he wasn’t sure which of the three yet. He saw the other detective but didn’t so much as greet him. Anderson placed Byung’s helmet carefully on the desk and fell into an empty chair, “You said you had some pictures for me to look at.”
“I want you to look once again at the photos with your father pictured in them. I want you to look at the one black male who is still alive from these photos, and all of the white men. Look carefully, and think. Have you ever seen any of these men around your home, your father, or anywhere else you might have been?”
Anderson nodded his head and inhaled deeply before looking down at the pictures. He stared at them over and over. He wondered if one of these men could have killed his father. Anything was possible. Then it hit him. One of the white men he recognized…but from where?
He tapped his finger against the man’s face. “Him,” Anderson spoke softly. “But I can’t remember…” He stopped speaking and lifted the picture to get a closer look.
“I think I was about six years old. I remember it because my dad always forgot to take his shoes off at the door when he came home in the evenings. He would try to kiss my mom but she would tell him no smoochin’ till the shoes are gone,” Anderson stopped to smile. “This one evening my father remembered to take his shoes off then told me to set an extra spot at the table because we were going to have a guest—of course my mother would have to reset the table because I had no clue I was doing it all wrong. When my mom asked who it was my dad didn’t speak. He simply looked at her and she sent me upstairs to look after my school clothes for the next day.”
Anderson shook his head. “They argued and it’s safe to say my mom didn’t like this guy one bit. She was yelling that the man shouldn’t be around her child. When he finally got there my mom barely spoke and after dinner he and my dad sat on the veranda smoking and talking…what is your name?” He glared at the picture. The name was on the tip of his tongue. That night so long ago he had asked his mother who the man was and her reply was…what? “She said he was my uncle…Uncle Percy…but he’s white so I guess she told me that because I was a child and should be respectful…Evans! That’s it! Percy Evans! He’s a cop or was a cop…”
“A cop? Are you sure? Where were you living at the time? A white cop, who was a member of the Bonesmen, shows up at your house and there was an argument? Do you remember if a department was ever mentioned?” Sam asked with look of surprise on his face.
“No, I don’t remember the department being mentioned,” Anderson shook his head. “But after that, I went to the courthouse with my mother to bring my dad an extra sandwich one night. She told me he was working late—and this man was in my dad’s office, in uniform. That’s how I know he is or was a cop.” He glanced at Sam for a second, and then looked back down at the picture. “Every time he tried to talk to me, at dinner or at the courthouse, my mother would find some way to get me away from him. I don’t know. I guess it was her motherly instincts.” Anderson watched the picture for a little longer then placed it back on the table.
“My dad was always so careful,” Anderson muttered not to anyone in particular. “He always was. Lock your doors after you enter or exit, Andy. Don’t give out personal information over the phone or internet, Andy. Wash your hands before you eat Andy…don’t talk to strangers…don’t even talk to our adult friends if your mother or I aren’t around Andy…” he
rubbed his tired eyes. “How did this happen?”
“Okay, I’ve got a suggestion. I think we need to go to Yale, look at their records and try and get into the Tomb, as they call it. That’s where the Bonesmen met. I have the feeling we are getting closer, but we don’t have all the pieces yet. Andy, are you up for that?” Sam asked.
Did he just call me Andy?
Anderson nodded his head. “If it will get this guy then why not?” he finished with a shrug of his shoulders. They were starting to feel as though he carried the world on them. “Though I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”
“Okay, Roger, get on the phone to the D.A.’s office in New Haven, Connecticut and let’s get warrants to look at records and to access the Tomb. I don’t want our trip up there to be for nothing. I want to look inside where that cult meets—get a better feel for them and maybe something will click. In the meantime Andy, you need to stay on your toes. Between the surveillance equipment and the theft of the book, someone is obviously more than just a little bit interested in you. In fact, I’d be willing to say that you’re in danger. If the killer is this Evans guy, and he figures out that you have fingered him, he is sure to make a move on you. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Sam asked.
Anderson nodded. That was the last thing he needed—some deranged moron with Anderson on his radar. He took a deep breath and slumped back against the seat. “I won’t be alone anyways. Once we get back I’m staying at either Byung’s or Jack’s so either way I’ll have someone with me.” He stopped and opened his eyes. “Are we going now or what? Because if not I should get some sleep or something.”
“No, it will take a day or two to get the warrants that we need. Until we get them, just be safe and keep aware of your surroundings,” Sam said as Roger exited the room.
When Roger had closed the door, Sam got up and went around the table to Anderson and put his arms around his shoulders. “Look Andy, I know it’s been a rough couple of weeks for you and I don’t mean to add to it. I’m just trying to do my job the best way I know how and that’s how we catch murderers and psychos. You wanna get some dinner tonight, and maybe stay at my place?”
The Orchid Murders Page 9