Slivovica Mason

by Clifton L Bullock Jr.

  "Now, Ms. Costa, to get back to earlier. I’m glad you called your New Jersey State Police connect,” Griffin said with no mention of Vernon Chandler or any NCIS investigator. “That was the call that put me enroute. Due to the details of the crime, the federal government tried to supersede the local government. In fact, they tried to remove us from the case completely, but they couldn’t and we wouldn’t let them. If something happens in my jurisdiction, I want to know everything about it. "

  The words intrigued Orinda and Mason both as they all huddled together. The huddle was as necessary for them to hear each other as it was to radiate warmth because the day was getting shorter and colder.

  "What do you mean that the federal authorities tried to supersede the local government? I was always under the impression they both worked together. Were they going to restrict us from entering? We were instructed to meet with an NCIS investigator before I made my call so we have to gain access to this scene. Our jobs depend on it," Orinda said to Detective Griffin and Mason collectively. Mason looked down at the snow when they made eye contact.

  "It’s actually a very intricate process but nevertheless, because of your call, the state was able to grant you OFFICIAL access to the crime scene, but they also allowed for the Pennsauken Detective Bureau to assist with the investigation. Before that call, federal investigators from the United States Navy’s Information Operations Command in Maryland detached crime investigators from the Naval Air Engineering Station Lakehurst to spearhead this without local authority assistance."

  After hearing the words from Detective Griffin’s mouth, Mason raised his eyes from the ground and found Orinda’s to confirm what they both were thinking.

  "This means that the victim was..."

  "S-s-still affiliated with military. That’s why they wanted to lead the-the-the the investigation," Mason interrupted Griffin.

  "Correct, Mr. Sessions. How did you know?" Griffin asked.

  "We h-had-had this ca-ca-conversation before we left the office."

  "Yes, we spoke about this earlier,” Orinda interjected as she noticed that Mason was having a harder time speaking. “If this were the death of a Marine near a military base, it would not be as much a surprise. I mean Marines get in bar fights, screw married women, and fight other Marines all the time, but this was not near a military base. It didn’t make much sense to harp on the victim’s military past as much as the execution style of the murder, but that’s all Mr. Chandler did.”

  "Great job sleuthing, you two. The victim was a Marine at one time, but he wasn’t at the time of his death. He actually joined the U.S. Navy Reserves six years ago and was detached to Lakehurst as a Shore Patrolman," Griffin informed his small audience.

  "Why would the victim wear a Marine dress uniform if he was currently serving in the Navy Reserves?" Orinda asked.

  "More good questions, Ms. Costa, and I assume that everything will be answered in due time, but first let’s get ready to access the scene to view the victim. Before we do, I need you both to sign these disclaimers. I have been told that you aren’t here to report this crime until it is solved. Until then, you both were actually recruited as help with the investigation.

  "How w-w-will-will two jour-journalist help with a mu-murder investigation?"

  "Mr. Sessions, I promise to answer all of your questions as we began to work together on this but first, the disclaimer forms," Detective Griffin said handing them forms and ink pens.

  While signing the forms, the feel of the mission suddenly changed. Did Mr. Chandler know about this from the beginning? Should they call just in case to update him on what was going on? The change didn’t feel right, but it was too late to turn back because the forms were in their hands. The sun was going down, and they needed to view the victim before it was too late. After signing the forms and walking the path that was parallel to the yellow crime scene tape, everything they knew changed. Like a shot the head, life instantly changed.

  Chapter 5

  "Molim vas, nemojte me ubiti. Borim se moja zemlja isto kao i ti!" (Please don’t kill me. I’m fighting my country the same as you.)

  "Sessions, tell this motherfucker to shut up before he gets one to the bellum. Now!"

  "Razumem da si uplašena, ali smiri. Molimo Vas da smiri " (I understand you’re scared but calm down. Please quiet down.)

  "What did you tell him, Sessions? Speak the fuck up! Now!"

  "I… I… I… t-t-told… told him to…"

  "Hurry the fuck up, you fucking prick! Out with it or this motherfucker is dead! What did you tell him? What did he say?!"

  "I… t-t-told… told him to stay c-c-calm! He surren… surrenders!"

  "Ask him if he knows of any other Chetnik fucks around. I want to know what he knows, and I want to know the truth. Tell him my fucking finger is itching to shoot his ass! Find out what he knows!"

  "Gde je ostatak vašeg detalja? Koja je vaša misija? Da li govorite engleski, ako, tako da mi javite sada!" (Where is the rest of your detail? What is your mission? Do you speak English? If so you let me know now!) Potrebno mi je da hitno reaguju, jer je moj drug će vam isteći! (I need you to respond urgently because my comrade will expire you!)"

  "I do speak English, comrade. I beg of you to please spare my life. I will surrender my arms, but I will never surrender my country. I’m fighting for her as you are against our common enemy."

  "You don’t tell me what you will and will not do, Cheta. If I ask you for information, you better damn well give it. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, you will get the pleasure of dying at the hands of a United States Marine. You have a choice to talk or go to fucking hell."

  "I’m protecting my homeland, Marine. I’m trying to liberate her from an evil man. You Americans have no reason to be here because we will win this fight on our own. This land is of Mother Yugoslavia. I will never give her away. I will surrender my arms, but I will never surrender my comrades or my country."

  "You don’t have any options, Cheta! Not only will you surrender your arms, but you will tell me about any other Chetniks within a few miles. I have lost 3 Marines to you fucks, and I will not lose another. There will be no more surprises. I will not be surprised by any more deaths, not my marines or yours. Fuck you and your fucking piece of shit country. Now, surrender the information or surrender your life. It’s your choice. I’m tired of playing with you."

  "Jebi ga! Jebi svoju majku! Ti jebeni American pičku! Idi u pakao!" (Fuck it! Go fuck your mother! You fucking American cunt! Go to hell!)

  "Pazi jebena usta cetnicku ili ću mu reći šta govoriš!" (Watch your fucking mouth, Chetnik, or I will tell him what you’re saying!) Mason said.

  "Speak English, you Motherfuckers!!! Both of you, speak English! What the hell did he say?"

  "N-n-nothing lets jus-st arrest him and ta-take him back to Mon-mon-Monteith like we were ordered. He al-already suren-sur-sur-surrendered."

  "Who the hell are you to give me a command? Do you see these chevrons? Do you see my fucking rank? Your only job here is to translate because you sure as fuck can’t communicate. Now, tell me what the Cheta said or I will put a bullet in your ass for treason!”

  "Pićka ti mater ma-m-means cunt motherfucker and Idi u pakao ste jebeni američki pička means to G-g-g-go to hell you fucking Amer-American cunt."

  "You wanna hear a history lesson, Cheta? Do you know where the term Devil Dog came from? The moniker was given to Marines by one of America’s most hated enemies. It was given out of respect; out of recognition. You are my current enemy, and you will recognize me as a Marine, but you will respect me as an American. You will respect that this Devil Dog can send you to hell without a prayer to save your pathetic Chetnik fucking soul. As a matter of fact, I think that Satan is waiting for you."

  "P-plea-please! Don’t… don’t do this! The rules of en-engagement are against thi-this. You a-a-a-are-are su-sure to see brig time."

  "Are you protecting the fucking Cheta? He is the reason we are away from our co
untry, away from our families! He’s killed innocent Croats and Albanians, and he has killed Marines! Do you remember that? You want to spare his life when they took life from Steen and Buckley?! Whose side are you on, you fucking traitor!"

  "Dur-r-r-during… war… de- de-death happens. Marines die. Serbians die. Soldiers die but only with valor and honor. Not like a dog in the street."

  "You’re right about one thing. Serbians die but they do die like dogs. Devils’ dogs only leave earth to protect the gates of hell! Do you have any last words before you levitate, Cheta?"

  "Osveti me druže. Nikad ne spavam dok ne uradite. Nikada zaboraviti moje krike." (Avenge me, comrade. Never sleep until you do. Never forget my screams.)

  "Speak English, motherfucker! God doesn’t hear nor does he understand you fucks."

  "Your Marine understands, and so does your God. I will see you again, comrade. I will see you both."

  And then it happened. There were more than enough shots to confirm death, but the extras were provided to confirm hate. And as they both lay there on the ground with blood leaking from their bodies, they bled together. The enemy of the enemy were now one. The ground no longer foreign is where their souls united.

  Chapter 6

  Warm blood melted the frozen snow turning into slush. The cold made it a bluish purple color as it stole the warmth of life.

  “Oh no! My God! No! Please! God, how you could do this?!" screamed Mason as he high-stepped through the accumulated snow once he recognized the body. He had to be corralled by other detectives to prevent him from destroying the crime scene and to protect the evidence that was still being collected. Orinda and Detective Griffin followed close behind. His reaction startled the both of them. Before this point, the most emotion Orinda had seen from him was the half smile in the car and a hint of jealousy. His sobs over the dead Marine’s body made her uncomfortable.

  Hollow point entry wounds on the right and left side of the temple made it difficult to tell which was first, but there was no denying that the exit wound from the victim’s forehead played truth to the old saying: he never saw it coming. Someone was able to get affectionately close to inflict these wounds. The marine lay hog-tied and brutally beaten as well. He died with his eyes only half closed leaving enough of an entrance for his soul to lift to heaven or for the reaper to reclaim it. Death was so final. Death was evident. Death was cold.

  "This-t-t-this is not a M-m-m-Mar-Marine’s death! Where is the fucking honor?!" Mason asked as he fell to his knees and wept, sobbed and screamed. He punched the snow with his glove-covered fist. He was so shaken by what he saw, he had forgotten about Orinda and Detective Griffin completely. Both were unsure of how to approach him during his obvious pain. They walked slowly and cautiously behind him.

  "God, please! This can’t be!” He exclaimed but no one was able to give him an answer, not even God himself. Once life is taken with such certainty, even God in all of his benevolent omnipotence cannot deviate from certain death.

  "¿Por qué estás tan molesta, Mason? Háblame por favor, tengo miedo." (Why are you so upset, Mason? Speak to me please, I’m scared.) The instant her hand rested on his shoulder, he collapsed his head on her leg and began sobbing violently. She couldn’t move and she didn’t want to. The fear that she had disappeared and her sympathy enabled her to allow him to clutch her tightly and experience a release. He looked up to her eyes with the deepest expression of hurt and pain on his face. She knelt down and embraced him allowing him to cry his tears on her chest.

  "Esta fue mi hermano. Él era mi familia! Esto perjudica a Orinda. Me duele mucho!" (This was my brother. He was my family! This hurts, Orinda. It hurts so much!) Th-this was ma-ma-my brother-in-arms!"

  At that point, Detective Griffin could no longer bear to hear the sobs of a grown man. There’s something about the sounds of a man crying that could singe another man’s soul and his was now burned.

  "Someone get over here and cover this Marine up right now! Also bring me three cups of coffee," Detective Griffin ordered to everyone and no one at the same time.

  "What is going on, Mr. Sessions? I am going to use my context clues and assume that you knew this person."

  As one of the other officers covered the Marine’s body, Mason stood up with disbelief written in his eyes. Orinda still consoled him by rubbing his back. She wanted to make him feel that she was there for him while he mourned but also to regain his trust that she lost when she inadvertently hurt his feelings.

  "This person was a United States Marine, and yes, I-I-I did know him. We were in Somalia, Guatemala, and K-K-Kosovo together. The person lying over there is St-St-Staff Sargent Stockton. Stock and I weren’t close but close e-e-enough that I feel his death."

  "This is very unfortunate, Mr. Sessions. I’m sorry for your loss. We promise to find the person who did this and bring him to justice."

  "Can’t you see? Ther-There is no justice that can be brought. A Ma-mar-marine is born to die but never on American soil. There is more to justice than finding a suspect," Mason said and then walked away. The reality of it all was too much to bear. He needed to move in order to feel alive. This was the first time since Kosovo that he had seen the body of a fallen Marine. This was the first time that he had seen Stockton since Camp Monteith.

  "Mason, are you okay? I’m so sorry for your loss. I wish I could take your pain away." Orinda said as she walked over to Mason who popped another Ativan without water, and she couldn’t blame him. Seeing a dead body was one thing, because being journalists, they saw them all the time, but this was no longer one of those cases with a military link. It all changed the second their John Doe was identified.

  "I’m okay. This just hurts. Even though Stockton was a dick to me, he didn’t deserve to die like this. No one fucking does."

  "Mr. Sessions. Ms. Costa, I want to introduce you to Lieutenant Junior Grade Gutiérrez. She’s the lead federal investigator who will assist us from this point forward. I have to finish with a few things before we close site for the night, but please give me a call if you need anything and I mean anything. It was nice to have met the both of you."

  Detective Griffin handed Orinda his card. Mason saw in his eyes and understood the innuendo hidden behind the glare, but he was too distraught to care now. If she wanted to give him her attention, so be it. He only wanted to be allowed to be alone.

  Dark clouds began to hover over the crime scene. Maybe it was because the weather had turned bad and the sky was about to open or maybe it was the darkness of night beginning to fall. Maybe it was because death was in the air but it didn’t matter. It was fitting of how Mason felt knowing that Stockton survived war only to not survive home.

  "Mr. Sessions, I am with the United States Naval Criminal Investigative Service from Lakehurst. I’m here to investigate the death of Chief Petty Officer Stockton. I want to introduce myself to you first and foremost because I want to give you my deepest condolences. I know the history between the two of you and I understand that this is never easy," Lieutenant Gutiérrez offered to Mason as she extended her hand. She was professionally beautiful. Her khaki uniform fit her figure perfectly even covered with a pea coat. Her brown eyes were accented by a heavy dose of mascara and her curly dirty blonde hair was pinned in a standard military-issued bun.

  "Thank y-y-you-you Ma'am," Mason said unconsciously coming to attention to address her. Tears were still streaming down his face.

  "At ease, Marine. You can relax around me," Lieutenant Gutiérrez said.

  "How about me, Lieutenant? Can I relax around you as well?" Orinda said bringing Mason his coffee that Detective Griffin had ordered earlier. It appeared that she was not as receptive of Lieutenant Gutiérrez as she was of Detective Griffin, but there was no apparent reason why.

  "Ah, yes, Ms. Costa, you can relax around me as well. I only said that to Mason because he came to attention and called me ‘Ma'am.’ You didn’t serve in our military, so I don’t expect that type of discipline from you."

 
“I see you have done your research, not bad for a Hispanic woman in the military who is trying to prove her worth by not being what she is. Pobre chica Latina,” (Poor little Latina girl.) Orinda responded.

  Right away it was very noticeable that they did not like each other. Maybe it was because what one was the other wasn’t, but there was no mistaking they didn’t and there was no hiding it.

  "For your information, Ms. Costa, everything I have is because I’ve earned it on my own. I have proven my worth to my family and my country and will do so until it’s no longer questioned. As for my research, of course I’ve done it. Why do you think you are here? To me you’re just the daughter of another dead Marine, one who eventually drank himself into deliria and committed suicide. Outside of that fact, I know you have no affiliation to the military. I know a lot that you don’t. Again you’re only here because of this pobre chica Latina."

  "How dare you mention my father?! You have no right!" Orinda yelled. She was more shocked than appalled. It was the first time since her father’s death a few years ago that he or his cause of death were mentioned. Orinda’s screams scared Mason snapping from him a daydream. Lieutenant Gutiérrez was in full control while Orinda’s Latina strength fled and she felt defeated. Mason sipped his black coffee while he listened to the women, but he didn’t hear them. He looked in the direction of where Stockton’s body was being collected by the coroner.

  “Now that I have both of your attention, maybe I can do my fucking job. I tried to approach you both respectfully and professionally, but it appears that I needed to be a bitch to get your attention,” Lieutenant Gutierrez barked. She was in complete control.

  “Like I said, Ms. Costa, everything I have, I earned. I know my worth, and it will not be questioned by you or anyone else. Do I make myself clear? As I was saying, you are both here for a reason. I know you’re not investigators, but as journalists you have an investigative eye. I need you both to chronicle the events, but also I need you to assist with the investigation and here are the reasons. Mason, you served with Chief Petty Officer Stockton on a few classified missions. Out of all the Marines in your detail, you and he were the only left alive. This death is an obvious, blatant homicide, but the other deaths appear to be coincidental. Circumstances have shown us that the coincidence could be just that, or there may be a serial trend. I need to make sure that it’s not the latter. I may need to get with you to discuss some of the details of missions that were declassified. Also, I know of your gift and your ability to speak other languages. We may need to use that gift later on. I have one more thing. Before your arrival, Naval Crime Investigators and Pennsauken detectives found a letter inside of Stockton’s dress blue top. Our analysts are trying to determine whether this was Stockton’s handwriting or someone else’s."