Night Court

by Ashley Fontainne

  Muscles sore and mind spinning, Derek stood and walked to the bedroom. Pulling the phone from the bag, he called Mitch back. When his partner answered, Derek could tell he was on-scene. The noise level was ridiculous.

  “Gee, did I catch you sleeping?” Mitch snarled.

  “Haven’t had any coffee this morning yet. Have you?” Derek pulled on a pair of briefs.

  “Nope. Unlike you, I’ve been working. It’s time you join me. This investigation is a nightmare. A real nightmare. I’m at…”

  “I know—just caught it on the news. Is my favorite piece of eye-candy still tottering around scene in some spiky heels?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care. Just hurry up and get here. This one…well, this one is a fucking mess.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want me to bring you some coffee and donuts?”

  “Screw you, Derek,” Mitch disconnected the call before Derek could say anything else.

  Eyes burning and brain exhausted, Derek finished getting dressed. He wondered why in the hell he ever decided to follow in his father’s footsteps.

  It rounded out the top three biggest mistakes he’d ever made.

  ***

  Derek parked a block away and shut the engine off. He gave a quick scan of the area, grateful no one was outside. A grim smile appeared when he considered the inhabitants of the entire three-block radius might all be gathered in front of 139 8th Street. After sliding on a ball cap and sunglasses, he exited the car and followed the sounds coming from one block over.

  When he rounded the corner, just like he’d expected, a large crowd of about thirty people stood in the middle of the street in front of De’Shawn’s house. Even from the distance, Derek felt the collective anger and shock. The emotional energy was palpable. The sun was out, and sweat beaded his brow. The stench of garbage hung in the damp air when he passed a large pile by the sidewalk.

  He decided to cross the street and flank the crowd. Stepping off the curb, not paying any attention to his feet, his landed on a rock and stumbled, dropping his keys. Bending down to retrieve them, he saw bloody paw prints.

  Glad I haven’t eaten yet. Death by dog…this should interesting. That’s what the bastard gets for having a canine big enough to inflict damage. Stonewall could maybe take out an ankle.

  The grumbling and yelling reached a fevered pitch when Derek came up behind the crowd. A harried, fresh-faced recruit who looked like she should still be in high school held up her hand to stop him. Before she had a chance to speak, Derek flashed his neck badge. She gave him a weary smile and then turned her focus back to the group.

  Derek ducked under the yellow police tape, looking around for Mitch. He knew his partner would be somewhere other than the actual crime scene, keeping his presence under the radar. The fear of being recognized was always on the minds of undercover cops. He noticed Mitch was on the front porch of De’Shawn’s neighbor, dressed inconspicuously like Derek, his back to the throng of onlookers. Derek picked up his pace and joined them.

  Mitch nodded his head toward Derek and said, “Excuse me, Mrs. Williams. I need to confer with my partner a moment. Please, take the time to get yourself a cold drink. Try to relax. It will help you recall things better.”

  “Sure thing, sir. Such a shame. I done told that boy to stop being so mean to poor Hercules. I told him! Oh, his mama is going to just die!” Mrs. Williams lamented before she went inside.

  Derek followed Mitch to the opposite end of the porch.

  “Took you long enough! Where’ve you been?” Mitch grumbled.

  “You’re in a shit mood. What, your hot girl turn cold or something?”

  Mitch glared at Derek and then wiped a trickle of sweat from his chin. He blew out a huff of air and lowered his voice. “No. I’m cranky because the old broad can’t remember squat…and because I hate dealing with Hudson. He’s a prick. Already been up in my face about Mookie. Actually had the guts to ask me if I was stalking and killing informants on the side. Can you believe that shit?”

  Derek tried not to laugh at the expression on Mitch’s face. He recognized the seething anger behind the eyes and heard it in his voice. “Hudson has had a hard-on for you ever since you did the nasty with his main squeeze, so yeah, I can believe it. I think he’d spend every penny of his retirement pay on throwing a huge party if you weren’t on the force anymore.”

  A snide grin curled up the corner of Mitch’s mouth. “Girl was worth it. She needed to know what a real man was like in the sack.”

  Ignoring Mitch’s favorite subject, Derek shifted gears. “So, what’s going on? News hinted Mookie was mauled to death? I’m guessing they are actually reporting a snippet of truth since I stumbled upon some paw prints down the street. They sure looked like…”

  “They were made from blood? Well that’s because they were.” Mitch leaned against the railing. “De’Shawn’s throat is gone, along with part of his face and most of his fingers. I mean, I could see his spine…and he was face up on the floor. The living room is covered in red. Covered. House is clean of product so far, so could be he was robbed and then someone used the dog as a distraction. Or, it could be he had himself a party after getting sprung. Snorted it all up and then accidently got too close and became a chew toy. No signs of forced entry. Only thing of note missing is his cell. Oh, and the dog.”

  Derek glanced over Mitch’s shoulder. He could see the dog wasn’t anywhere around. “What, did the mutt chew through the rope…or pull the stake out of the ground?”

  Mitch shook his head. “Nope. Someone cut it. Which pretty much rules out an accident.”

  The screen door squeaked when Mrs. Williams walked back outside, a tall glass of lemonade in her hands. Derek noticed they were still shaking. The poor old lady’s gaze shifted between the two of them.

  “Either of you like something to drink? Sorry I didn’t ask before. My manners are shot. This is just, oh, I can’t believe it!”

  Out of the duo, Derek had a softer touch when interviewing. He knew that was why Mitch called him down since Derek wasn’t Mookie’s handler. Moving in front of Mitch, Derek smiled warmly at the elderly woman. “How kind of you, but no thank you. Mrs. Williams, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Let’s have a seat over here and talk. Do you mind if I take notes?”

  “Not at all, though I really don’t have anything to add to what I already told him and the other man earlier.” Mrs. Williams smiled, motioning toward Mitch with her head full of white hair. “I woke up early like I always do, took my trash out to the curb before it got too hot, and—oh, it was just—in all my days, I ain’t never seen such a thing!“

  Derek saw tears well up in her cloudy eyes. He urged Mrs. Williams to take a drink. “Forgive me if my questions are similar to what my partner already asked. I’m just trying to catch up here. Okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Derek smiled. “So here’s the first set of questions. Did you see anyone outside before you discovered Mr. Majors? Hear any odd noises or notice any strange vehicles?”

  Mrs. Williams shook her head no, her gaze no longer on Derek as she looked past him over to De’Shawn’s. “And last night, the thunder was so loud, and I’m afraid of storms, so I took a sleeping pill.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Um, I guess around nine or so. News wasn’t on yet.”

  “I see. What about the last week or so? Do you recall anything odd…out of place around here? Notice any strangers?”

  Mrs. Williams turned her attention back to Derek. She started to shake her head no but then took in a gasp of air. “Why yes…yes I do! The day De’Shawn came home from jail…I saw something. I surely did!”

  Derek let a small grin appear, knowing the revelation irked the shit out of his partner. “Tell me, Mrs. Williams, what did you see?”

  “Well, it was early evening, close to sunset. I was outside tending my roses when I saw De’Shawn hit poor Hercules over the head wi
th a big piece of wood. He’s always hurting that dog one way or another. Never could understand why he even had one! Poor thing was skinny as a rail. Used to bark all the time—which annoyed the entire block to no end—until De’Shawn had its vocal chords cut.”

  “He did what?” Mitch interrupted.

  Derek shot Mitch a look strong enough to silence him. He motioned for Mrs. Williams to continue.

  “Yep. At first, I just thought the dog was too scared of him to bark any more. One night, oh about eight months ago, the boy was high on something. Loosened his tongue. He was outside on the porch, talking real loud to nobody but Hercules. Said that he wasn’t gonna have the cops called and get in trouble from the constant barking, so he fixed the problem.”

  “Jesus, what an ass,” Mitch whispered.

  “So, you witnessed Mr. Majors strike the dog? Then what happened?” Derek urged.

  “Yes, that’s right. I can’t stand to see any animal abused, so I said something to him. I…oh, I uh…” Mrs. Williams clamped her mouth shut.

  “It’s okay, ma’am. Tell me. Did you two get into an argument? Exchange ugly words or something?”

  Tears started to flow down her dark, wrinkled cheeks. Derek saw a look of remorse and fear behind her eyes. “I…told him if he didn’t quit hitting Hercules, I’d come over and…and…and cut him loose in the middle of the night. But I swear I didn’t mean it! It was just a threat…you know…to get him to stop? The guy who drove up on the bike must have heard me! Oh dear Jesus, God in Heaven! I gave him the idea!”

  Derek’s heart rate went into overdrive. “Mrs. Williams, what guy? Do you remember what he looked like?”

  “Not really. Only caught a quick glance before I went back inside. White. Average height and sort of skinny. Kind of built like you.” Mrs. Williams pointed at Mitch. “He did have some sort of ink on his right arm, but he was too far away for me to make out what it was.”

  Taken aback, Derek forced his voice to remain neutral. He could just imagine the look on Mitch’s face. “What about hair color or any distinguishing features?”

  Mrs. Williams shook her head. “Don’t know. He still had a helmet on. I just remember thinking he was the healthiest looking junkie I’d seen in years.”

  Derek couldn’t help but laugh. “Well that certainly answered another one of my questions, which was about whether you knew what Mr. Majors did for a living.”

  “Everyone around here knows what that boy does…er, did…to pay his bills. I’ve lived here for over thirty years, and I’ve seen more than my share of addicts walking up that porch. I sure have. Between his mama’s shenanigans and eventually De’Shawn’s, I know how to spot someone looking to score.”

  Derek shook his head, shocked by the woman’s honesty. “So, when you said healthy, what did you mean?”

  “My first impression was first-time user. Guy was thin and lean, like a basketball player, rather than stocky like a linebacker. Had sort of an…oh, what’s the right word?…fancy-pants walk?”

  “Do you mean he looked effeminate?”

  “Oh, no. Just wasn’t a burly tough guy. Looked like he worked out, but not to be huge…just healthy. Does that make sense?”

  Derek scribbled the information down. He heard Mitch ask, “You said bike. Did you mean a motorcycle?”

  “Yes. I remember hearing it rumble right before De’Shawn struck poor Hercules. It was loud. That’s all I remember. Sorry.”

  Derek and Mitch didn’t have a chance to ask any other questions. The crowd roared to life when Mookie’s body was removed in a bag, shouting out for justice for De’Shawn.

  13

  7:15 a.m. Sunday morning

  Yet another reason I bought a house in the freaking sticks! Privacy!

  Merry stopped at the end of the long, curvy dirt road serving as the driveway. The new place she would be moving into in less than a week stared back in silence. She’d already made numerous trips with carloads full of small items during the last week, yet each time she arrived, a lump of tears appeared.

  The quaint place would never be home.

  It was a cute, one-story ranch with a wrap-around front porch, nearly a mile from the main road and nestled behind enormous pecan and oak trees. She’d purchased it, and the five acres it sat on, for a low price. The house had been on the market for almost two years after the previous owner passed away. When she originally toured the place, she understood why. The exterior had been updated with new vinyl siding, but the interior looked like something off the set of a 60s sitcom.

  The property was bought for numerous reasons, including its seclusion. Merry didn’t need nosey neighbors observing her comings and goings. Now, the private area would serve another purpose—hiding her new companion, Cujo. Glancing over at Hercules, she chuckled. The window was full of slobber, the towels covered in dried blood.

  “Come on, boy. I’ve got things to do before my head pops off.”

  Exiting the car, Merry stopped at the trunk first. She pulled out the knife from the pack and tucked it in her waist, just to be safe. After shutting the trunk, she walked over and opened the passenger door.

  Hercules jumped out, his nose immediately on the ground, sniffing.

  “Hang on, boy. Let’s get this rope off, shall we?”

  To her surprise, the dog stopped and stared at her. She held her hand out, backside first, and let him sniff it as she moved it toward him with slow, calculated movements.

  “I’m sure I stink too, so don’t judge me.” She laughed. Hercules responded by licking her hand. “Good boy. Okay, hold still and let me get this thing off your neck.”

  While running her left hand over the top of the dog’s chunky head, Merry slid the knife out. Cooing gibberish to him, she inched it toward the collar. In one quick slice, he was free. The filthy piece of material dropped to the ground.

  Hercules wagged his tail and whined.

  “There! You are really free now. So, our first order of business is a bath. Got to get all that evidence washed away. Let’s do this the old fashioned way, shall we? Not sure how you’ll do in the house, so come on. Follow me.”

  Merry walked to the rickety fence surrounding the house and unlocked the gate. Hercules followed, his nose back on the ground. When they reached the backyard, the big dog froze when the few ducks that had been swimming in the small pond took off, quacking away in fear.

  Merry set the knife on the back porch railing and unlocked the door. “They’re just birds, silly. No need to be afraid. Trust me—they are more terrified of you. Hang on while I get some soap.”

  The first thing she grabbed was her migraine pills from her purse, followed by a glass of water. Downing them, she returned to the porch, bottle of dish soap in tow. She made her way to the edge of the water, hoping Hercules would follow. He was several steps behind her, his eyes taking in everything. Merry could tell he was shaking.

  Sitting down at the edge, Merry quickly disposed of her running shoes and clothes. When she turned around, Hercules was still sitting in the same spot.

  Merry stood and walked into the water up to her knees, making plenty of noise to scare away any snakes lurking about. “I told you in the car you needed a bath. Wasn’t kidding when I said you stink. I promise it’s okay. I used to be afraid of the water too, but look at me now!”

  Holding her breath, Merry went under. The water wasn’t exactly cold, yet it was still refreshing, and the sudden change in temperature helped ease the throbbing in her forehead. When she popped back up, she burst out laughing.

  Hercules was right at the edge, his feet millimeters from the water. He whined and paced back and forth—she assumed searching for her. Merry moved closer to the bank. “Oh, it’s okay big guy. It feels good, I promise. Haven’t lied to you yet, have I? If you let me get you cleaned up, I’ll let you come inside while I find you something to eat, okay? I need someone to watch over me while I sleep, which is going to happen soon.”

  Though probably from her friendly tone—and no
t from some strange, mystical connection—Hercules seemed to understand her words. He took two steps forward and then bent his head down and lapped at the water. After a few good licks, his back haunches tightened, and he jumped in. The natural instinct to paddle kicked in. He snorted water from his nose, and he swam around in a circle. In seconds, he was chest deep in the water next to Merry.

  Unsure how long he would hold still, she squirted the dish soap onto his back and started scrubbing. Between the warm sun, cool water, and caring touches, woman and beast bonded.

  ***

  “Bath’s over. Let’s go get you something to eat and then situated for a while. You did pretty well in the car, so let’s try the house next. I’ve got to rest before my head explodes.”

  Hercules shook his coat once again before he followed. Merry had spent the last fifteen minutes sprawled out on the grass, air-drying, while Hercules checked out his new home. The pain in her head had abated for a few minutes but then roared back. Merry feared she wouldn’t make to the house before puking. Gathering up her clothes, she stood and headed to the house, a four-legged buddy at her side.

  “Bet you didn’t know you’re named after a mythical legend who killed his wife and children and then was forced to perform twelve labors to redeem himself, did you? Hmm, that was your old life, and you need another name for your new life. Oh, what’s the name of the guy who killed Medusa? Ah yes! Perseus. How about that?”

  Once inside, she propped the back door open, just in case. Merry laughed when the dog let out a weird whine. “Okay, you’re right. Too formal. How about simply Percy? Yes! That sounds right. Percy.”

  Percy stayed right at the edge of the door, hesitant to step fully inside. Merry pulled a bowl from the cabinet along with a can of tuna and fixed Percy a late breakfast. When she bent down to set the bowl on the floor, red-hot pain lanced through her head, making her dizzy. Another stabbing blow took her breath away. Bursts of yellow and orange distorted her vision. She vomited and collapsed on the floor.