Severed

by Corey Brown

Hansen and Slater shake their heads in unison.

  “Am I sure he was black?” Cody says. “Well, yeah, I’m pretty sure about his skin color.”

  “Cute,” Hansen says. “Okay, fine. Do you know where he lives?”

  “No, wait,” Cody says. “You guys are investigating Nick’s death and you don’t even know his race?”

  “We have never met the man.” Hansen says. “We have not viewed the body. We are still waiting on his PD records and no one has told us anything about him personally, therefore we had no way of knowing his skin color. Now, you can keep fucking around or you can help us. So, how about it? Do you know where he lives?”

  Cody holds Hansen’s gaze, catches the tone before answering. This guy was unusual, not quite the standard New Orleans cop.

  “Last I knew,” Cody says. “He had a place near Audubon Park. You really didn’t know?”

  “No, we didn’t,” Hansen says, sounding impatient. “But since we’ve only been on this thing for a few hours there is a hell of a lot we don’t know.”

  “We checked his Garfield address,” Slater says. “And it belongs to someone else now. The current tenants have never heard of Nick Wheaton, but the landlord confirms Wheaton moved out about four months ago. Any idea why he didn’t give the department a new address? Does that seem odd to you?”

  Cody hesitates. Cody knows Nick had moved and where he went and why, but doesn’t want to give that away. Cody also knows they’ll find out eventually.

  “Have you spoken to his fiancée?” Cody says.

  “Look, we don’t know shit about this guy,” Slater says. “How many times we got to tell you that? We don’t know if he’s black or if he’s the queen of England and you think we know Wheaton was engaged? Throw us a bone, for Christ’s sake. This fiancée, she have a name?”

  “Julia Turano. She’s got a place down in the Quarter, on Dauphine Street. And in case it comes up later, she’s not black.”

  Slater ignores the comment. “What’s the address?”

  “I don’t know the number,” Cody says. “But it’s a blue building, I think, with green shutters. A three story on the north side of the street about two houses off the corner of Orleans.”

  Cody decides it is time to shift the focus. “Why is NOPD handling this? Doesn’t the Department of Wildlife and Fisheries have jurisdiction? Shouldn’t a warden be asking me these questions?”

  “Wildlife is doing the site investigation,” Hansen says. “But they really don’t want it.”

  “What does that mean? They get to choose what crimes they handle?”

  Hansen smiles crookedly. “Sort of. Their thing is poaching, trespass, that kind of shit. If they decide Nick was hunting those ‘gators maybe they’ll take another look. But the untimely death of an NOPD cop is not really their shtick.”

  Cody thinks about that. “So why not the State Police?” he says. “That area ought to be---”

  “In Saint Bernard Parish,” Hansen says. “Troop B handles half a dozen parishes, including Saint Bernard and the Biloxi Wildlife Management sites. Look, the marsh is private property, owned by some petroleum company, but the land is managed both privately and by the LDWF. It’s a mixed bag, not quite public, not quite private. Yeah, the boys in Troop B could’ve taken this case but jurisdiction is messy, it crosses at least two lines, maybe three. Throw in a dead New Orleans cop and nobody wants it.”

  Heat, the smell of freshly cut grass hovers in the air like an invisible fog. Cody waits a moment, draws his hand across his chin, kneads his lower lip.

  “So why you guys?” Cody says. “Why not Internal Affairs? Obviously you’re not part of Nick’s squad?”

  Hansen shakes his head. “No, we’re homicide, same as you. We don’t know anything about his task force”

  “The question stands. Why not Internal Affairs?”

  “IAD declined.” Hansen shrugs. “They don’t want it either.”

  “Declined? How can that be? What did they say?”

  “They didn’t,” Slater says, his tone sharp. “They didn’t say anything, they just said no.”

  “But Wheaton was working with vice in our district---” Hansen starts to say.

  “And District Six,” Cody interjects. “Why not someone out of Six? And what about his partners in vice, you talk to any of them?”

  “Yeah, it could’ve been someone out of Six,” Hansen says, nodding. “Luck of the draw, I suppose, and we just pulled the short stick. As far as the guys on task force are concerned, it seems he was it. The only one.”

  Nick was it, the only guy in the covert op?

  This is news to Cody but tries not to show it. “Interesting,” he says. But it is more than interesting. If true, it is weird, very weird.

  “Does that seem strange to you?” Hansen says. “I mean, we all thought this special squad would be bigger, kind of a city-wide thing. But now we’re told Wheaton was the squad.”

  “What about his superior?” Cody says. “Nick had to report to someone.”

  Hansen shrugged. “Not that we know of, but I assume someone will contact us. That seems strange, too, don’t you think?”

  “What I think is immaterial,” Cody says. “I don’t know what he was working on or with who.”

  “Do you know why Wheaton joined this project?” Slater says.

  “No, I don’t. But Nick was just on loan, he wasn’t going to stay.”

  Slater shifts his feet. “Rumor has it that the squad was formed by IAD to track down dirty cops. What do you think?”

  “I don’t pay attention to that stuff.” Cody looks at Slater, narrows his eyes ever so slightly. “I don’t need to.”

  Slater shifts his weight again, the move seems uneasy.

  “But,” Cody says. “If you’re asking me whether Nick was working for Internal Affairs, my guess is no. I think he would’ve said something to me.”

  “How do you know Nick wasn’t going to stay with it?” Hansen says. “I mean, if you guys weren’t working together, what makes you so sure?”

  Cody sighs. “Because I know Nick. He didn’t want to do anything else, homicide was it for him. He was too good to leave permanently.”

  Hansen checks his watch. “I understand,” he says, nodding, shifting gears. “Look, we want to be there for the autopsy and I think we should speak with his girlfriend right away.” He pulls a business card. “If you think of anything, get in touch. Okay?”

  It is a strange segue, these guys should have asked more questions but it is the break Cody needs. “Yeah, sure,” he says, taking Hansen’s business card.

  “Thanks,” Hansen says, “We appreciate any help you can offer.”

  “Sorry about your partner,” Slater says, his tone softer now. “It’s a bad deal. But we’ll figure it out.”

  Cody nods. “Do that.” He tips his head toward the front yard. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Slater turns the ignition key, puts the dark green Crown Victoria in gear. Hansen gives a quick wave to Cody as the car rolls backwards.

  “What an asshole,” Slater says. “Know anything about Briggs?”

  Hansen shrugs. “Not much, I mean besides that thing with the Skulls.”

  “Yeah, well, everyone knows about that.” Slater reflects for a moment then says, “He’s holding back.”

  “No shit?” Hansen says. “You think?”

  Cody waits a few moments, watching until the Crown Vic disappears from sight. Turning back to the front porch, his son, Todd, emerges from the house. Todd has dirty blonde hair that is forever out of place and a body gone wild with adolescent growth. Tall and lanky, Todd’s boyish face is showing the first hints of the young man to come, making him appear much older than thirteen. Cody’s eyes meet Todd’s and both of them hesitate.

  “Where’re you going?” Cody says.

  Without stopping, Todd walks past Cody, says, “Nowhere. Out.”

  Cody catches Todd by the arm and spins him back around. “Out where?” Cody demands.


  Todd wrenches free, stumbles and falls backwards bumping into the porch railing.

  “None of your business.” Todd shouts. “Just out, okay?”

  “I thought you were too tired to get up this early. Isn’t that why you couldn’t mow the lawn, you were too tired?”

  “Leave me alone, Cody.”

  “I would if you’d just do a few things around here, instead of being so lazy.”

  “Both of you stop it. Todd, don’t be a smart-aleck.”

  Cody turns to see his wife, Jamie, standing inside the screen door.

  “And Cody,” Jamie says. “Let him be.” Her tone softens. “He’s just going over to Sandra’s house.”

  Cody gives Todd an angry look. “You couldn’t just say that? You couldn’t just tell me where you were going?”

  “Let him be,” Jamie repeats, accenting each word. She looks at Todd, waves her hand. “Go on, honey. You call me if you leave Sandra’s.”

  “Okay, Mom.” Todd looks at Cody. “I will.” His voice has a defiant tone and it burns in Cody’s ears.

  Cody draws a breath trying to relax. He wants to put this kid in his place, but holds back. Todd smiles bitterly at Cody and turns away. Cody watches him cross the street, watches as he joins a young man smoking a cigarette then they walk off down the street.

  Cody sits down hard on the stoop. Shade from an old oak filters the sunlight. Tipping his head forward, Cody runs his fingers through his gray hair. Shit, what about poor Nick, what had he gotten mixed up in?

  The screen door creaks and Jamie steps out onto the gallery.

  “Who’s that kid with Todd?” Cody asks before she can sit down. “I don’t recognize him.”

  Jamie glances down the street. “What kid?”

  “That----” Cody stops short as he looks at Todd walking alone. “He was with someone, some kid smoking a cigarette. I saw him.”

  “I don’t think so,” Jamie says with a shrug. “I didn’t see him with anyone.

  “Well, someone was there,” Cody says, waving his hand in the direction of Todd. “I’m not imagining things.”

  Jamie sighs, sits down beside him. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” She says, her gentle southern lilt softening his frustration. “What did those cops want?”

  Cody inhales, closes his eyes, lets his breath out slowly. “Nick is dead,” he says, without looking at Jamie. “Some game warden pulled him from the swamp yesterday. Looks like the ‘gators got him.”

  Jamie covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh, Lord. Cody, I’m so sorry. Does Julia know?”

  “Not yet. I sent those guys to Nick’s apartment.”

  “Oh honey, we can’t let her hear it from strangers.”

  “I know,” Cody says. “Julia won’t be there, she’ll be at work today.” He looks at his wife, “I’m going to tell her.”

  Jamie’s eyes begin to moist over. “I’ll go, too.”

  “I can take care of it.”

  “I’m coming along,” Jamie says. “You’ll mess it up.”

  “I----” Cody stops short, closes his eyes again, shrugs then says, “Okay.”

  Jamie lays her head on Cody’s shoulder. These are the times she wishes Cody was a lawyer or a businessman, a garbage man, anything besides a cop. She is not prepared for this. Jamie doesn’t want to be telling young women their fiancées are dead because alligators had eaten them. She can do illness or financial hardship, almost anything, but not alligators. If only Cody could have been something else. Mentally, Jamie winces, catches herself. They never would have met if Cody had not been a policeman.

  “We have to take separate cars,” Cody says. “I have to go to the station afterwards.”

  “Okay,” Jamie says, aimlessly.

  Cody touches Jamie on the cheek. “Sorry about Todd,” he says. “You know I love him. I’m just…I don’t know what to do.”

  “Neither do I honey.” Jaime takes Cody’s hand. “I don’t understand the two of you anymore. You used to be so close.”

  “He just makes me so angry,” Cody says, balling his free hand into a fist “He won’t listen and he’s all mouth. It’s worse when Lucas picks him up. That bastard dropped out of Todd’s life for almost thirteen years and then, bang, suddenly he’s Todd’s best friend.”

  Jamie swallows hard. “I know,” she says, quietly. “But you raised him. Someday he’ll understand what you’ve done.”

  “No, he won’t. His daddy is going to buy him back.”

  Jamie closes her eyes. The subject of Todd and his biological father is a point of contention among the three of them. She hates what has become of her family, they are slowly being torn apart by anger and jealously and pride.

  “Honey, why don’t you start coming to church with us?” Jamie offers. “I know it will help. I know if Todd sees you there while hearing about God and family, it’ll change his mind. I’m sure of it. Father Grisham asked about you last Sunday.”

  “Stop it, Jamie.” Cody’s voice is quiet, almost pleading. “Just stop. You know how I feel about church. I wish I still believed that way, but I don’t. And I know it won’t help with Todd. This is beyond church. This is.…” Cody shakes his head, never finishing his thought.

  Jamie considers this, she wonders if this really is beyond church, worries that her family’s disintegration is beyond God.

  Jamie is a devout Catholic, rarely missing a Sunday morning mass, and many years ago Cody had been a faithful parishioner, too. But, as a policeman, life had taken him down some dark paths and the day came when Cody traveled one too many. On that day, church simply no longer held any answers. Cody had never talked about it, choosing instead to spend time commiserating with Jack Daniels, preferring late nights and hangovers to meaningful conversation.

  There had been no getting around it, no pretending it did not happen, and there were still more questions than answers. Jamie had read the newspaper stories, talked with her mother, wondered what had really happened; but whatever Cody had done to the Skulls that day in the warehouse, the price of action had been his faith. One Sunday he was kneeling and singing hymns and taking communion, the next Sunday he refused to go. He just stopped believing.

  This separation of belief hurts Jamie, but she loves him, loves him with more intensity than the power of adversity. And she knows Cody loves her just as much. Jamie can see it in his tired eyes. Even more, she feels his love in the way he touches her, Jamie can feel it when he takes her into his arms and kisses her. So she accepts his change of heart and hopes that, one day, it will change back.

  If only Cody could have been something else, Jamie thinks again. He would still believe.

  “Sorry,” Jamie says, her breath escaping under the sound of her words. “I just meant----”

  “It’s okay, honey,” Cody says, interrupting. He pulls her close, kissing her lightly on the lips. “Look, I gotta change then we’ll go, all right?”

  She nods. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Chapter 8

  As soon as his Chevy Impala is out of the driveway, Cody picks up his cell phone and dials his commanding officer.

  “This is Laroche,” his captain says

  “It’s Briggs.”

  “Hey, Cody, I can’t tell you how bad I feel about Wheaton. It’s a damn shame. He was a good cop and a decent person. This kind of shit just shouldn’t happen to someone like him.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it. Listen, Captain----”

  “You can’t have the case.”

  “But----”

  “We don’t investigate our own, you know that. Even if we did, you’re too close, I’d have to give it to someone else.”

  “This isn’t that simple,” Cody says. “He was killed up in Biloxi, but the LDWF doesn’t want this job. State has turned it down even Internal Affairs is keeping their distance. And how can IA can stay out of this case, how is that possible?”

  “It’s out of my hands.”

  “And no one wants this case so it gets assigned to a of coup
le guys from District Five. That makes no sense. Everyone else is running like the goddamned wind but these two are willing to take it on. Tell me why. Besides, what’s difference? Six, One, Five, who cares?”

  “Cody, it’s out----”

  “Listen to me, Russell,” Cody says, interrupting his captain. “This whole thing is rotten. Nick hates the swamp. There’s no way he’d be there unless he was working. No way, especially on his own. Trust me, Nick would’ve called me before going alone. The two guys working on this, Hansen and Slater, say there were gunshots. Captain, I’m telling you, Nick was murdered and not by some ‘gator.

  Russell Laroche sighs. It was bad enough when a cop went down, but when it is one of your own that is the worst. He had not even called Nick’s fiancée. Then to have Cody knowing so much so soon, it was unnerving.

  “You’re drawing conclusions too quickly,” Russell says. “We don’t even know for sure if shots were fired or who fired them. They haven’t recovered Nick’s gun, so for all we know he was the one doing the shooting. Which is exactly why you can’t have the case, in the rush to solve it, you’d make mistakes.”

  “We both know,” Cody says. “You don’t really believe that. So don’t yank my chain, okay? Do you know why he was working in that ghost squad?

  Russell clears his throat. “I can’t go into that, Cody.”

  “So you don’t know, either. You have no idea what Nick was working on. Russell, how do we know he didn’t piss off the wrong people, how do we know the wrong people aren’t from District Five?”

  Frustrated, Russell clears his throat again. Cody is right; he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything about what his former detective was doing. IAD never tells anyone what they are doing or if they are doing anything at all. Hell, he isn’t even sure if Wheaton was working for IAD. That was just the rumor mill doing its job.

  “Okay,” Russell says. “You got me there. But you still can’t have the case.”