Raven: A political thriller

by J. J. Franck

Mrs. VanBuren stopped and said no more. Don turned and stared at the two for the longest time without saying a word. His face flushed as he took a quick step forward.

  “If you’re holding back on a murder investigation. We’ll have you both charged with obstruction of…”

  Fred stepped between Don and Dr. VanBuren. “We may need to talk to you again,” was all he said and then turned to Don in a way that told him not to speak.

  Dr. VanBuren reached in his pocket for a business card. He handed it to Fred, who in turn gave it to Don.

  “Then I suggest you give my attorney a call. He’ll set up the appointment. Beatrice shouldn’t have said what she did.”

  “If you know what they were working on, why not tell us? It may be pertinent to this investigation.”

  Dr. VanBuren just shook his head while his jaw muscles tensed up.

  “Dr. VanBuren,” Don started to say, when Fred quickly got his attention and then motioned to Mrs. VanBuren, who was clearly angry with Don. Don cleared his throat and had a look of sincerity on his face when he turned to Mrs. VanBuren. “I’m truly sorry for your loss,” he said.

  Fred stared at Don and then at Raven’s parents. Don seemed clearly upset, while Raven’s parents appeared somewhat indifferent about them being there. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Dr. VanBuren? appeared upset, but not as upset as he would have thought, given the circumstances.

  Don abruptly turned and walked out of the house, followed closely by Fred.

  Once outside the house Don pulled out a cigarette and lit up. Fred shut the door behind him and then turned to Don and stared at him, shaking his head.

  “What was that all about?” he asked.

  “Didn’t you find it a little strange that they weren’t broken up about their daughter’s murder?”

  Fred thought a while and then added, “He sure was prepared, with his attorney’s business card in his pocket.”

  “Yeah, I wondered about that too.”

  “The mother appeared to have been crying.”

  “Remember how frantic the old girl sounded on the answering machine when she couldn’t reach her daughter,” Don said. He took a long drag on the cigarette and then quickly exhaled.

  “Yeah, you’d think she’d be a little more upset by her daughter’s death?”

  “Now that you mention it, I guess you’re right.”

  Don tossed the cigarette on the sidewalk, stepped on it, and then walked over to the squad.

  Chapter 9

  Fred had been watching Don closely ever since the incident at the victim’s house. His behavior at her parents’ house was somewhat strange also. Fred had only worked with Don for a little better than a month, and yet he knew this case was different. On the other homicide cases they worked on, Don had always been analytical and very focused on the facts, almost to the point of being annoying. Fred honestly did not feel Don cared enough about the victims in those cases. And now he was faced with Don caring too much, to the point he was becoming obsessed with Raven VanBuren.

  Fred turned to Don, “You okay?” he asked.

  “Okay as I’ll ever be,” Don snapped, a little annoyed at Fred’s insistence on asking him if he was okay.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Fred asked. At that point he knew there was definitely something different about his case. He was sure Don did not know Raven VanBuren before she became a victim, so he was not sure what the problem was with him. It was a question that was really troubling him at that point.

  Don finally replied. “There’s something about her,” Don said. His voice sounded desperate. “I can’t put her out of my mind. Last night I couldn’t sleep.” Don looked around. “Something is not right, and it’s staring us in the face. But we can’t see it.”

  “The coroner should be done by now. Maybe he will have an answer for you.”

  “It’s a start. Afterward I’d like to talk to Mrs. Maxfield and put something to rest.”

  “You think her husband’s disappearance is connected to the murder?”

  Don looked at Fred. “I want to hear her voice. We still have the voice on the tape threatening our girl. I want to know if there’s a side of our victim Mama and Pop VanBuren didn’t know about.”

  Fred turned to Don with concern. He was worried Don’s ability to solve this case was flawed, but his reasoning still seemed to be intact. Fred still had a lot to learn, and the Chief spoke highly of Don’s ability to be a valuable mentor. Fred just had to sit tight, keep his mouth shut, and make sure he kept Don on the straight and narrow road in solving who killed the young woman.

  “Will you be ready for that?” Fred said.

  Don turned to Fred with a look that could kill. “What do you mean by that crack?”

  Don knew what Fred was getting at, even though he didn’t answer him. From the start Don had been troubled by the murder of Raven VanBuren. It started when he walked into her house and saw her portrait above the mantel. Something inside troubled him, and he couldn’t stop thinking about Raven or the image of the corpse in the burnt-out Mustang. He was having a hard time coming to terms with this whole case. And what part of it had to do with Senator Maxfield’s disappearance?

  They drove through traffic in silence after that. Fred didn’t want to say more. Don, on the other hand, had to deal with his partner’s concern. When they finally got to the coroner’s office, it was Don who walked in first. As they waited for Dr. Schmidt to open the door, Don turned to Fred with one of his looks.

  “I’ll do all the talking,” Don said.

  “Don’t you always?” Fred was getting tired of Don treating him as if he didn’t know what he was doing.

  Fred, in all actuality, had learned a lot from watching Don in action. That was why this case was troubling him so. Don was not on top of his game. His judgment had been clouded the moment he walked into the victim’s house last night.

  * * *

  The coroner’s office was cold and impersonal. The sterile, stainless steel interior only added to the cool feeling. Fred never liked going there. It always gave him the creeps. Don on the other hand didn’t let anything bother him. That was, until this case started.

  Don had his pad opened, taking notes, while Fred sat back and just listened to the two talk about the dead body on the metal slab as if it were nothing unusual. Dr. Schmidt had been the coroner for going on fifteen years. Don liked him and he was easy to talk to. He always talked to Don and not down to him, unlike some of his assistants when Dr. Schmidt was working on another case.

  Don after a long silence looked at Dr. Schmidt and asked, “How sure are you that it’s the VanBuren woman?”

  “There wasn’t much to go on.”

  “Give me what you got,” Don said.

  “We have a woman the same height as Ms. VanBuren,” he said.

  Don turned and stared at the charred body on the table as Dr. Schmidt continued. “Same weight and build. A dental ID is impossible with the damage from the blast to the face.”

  “What if it isn’t her?” Don asked.

  “You have the body in her car. To me, it’s a safe bet that it’s her. Unless you have reason to believe otherwise.”

  “What about blood type?” Fred asked. He was tired of just listening to the two and decided to get into the conversation.

  Dr. Schmidt glanced at him for the first time, as if not realizing Fred was even there.

  “Same as our girl. We could do a DNA, but you’d have to bring me something to compare it to,” Dr. Schmidt quickly replied.

  Fred shook his head for a moment. He then stared at Don for the longest time. It would be easy enough to go back to the house and get something that belonged to Raven VanBuren and finally put to rest for Don who was on that slab.

  “If it wasn’t our girl, then who could it be and why wouldn’t our girl be calling us to set us straight?” Fred quickly interjected. It was a reasonable question, one that Don and Dr. Schmidt hadn’t really thought about.

  The look on Don’s face t
old Fred he wasn’t getting through, and then he just shook his head and continued.

  “Christ, Don, this has been in all the papers, not to mention the radio and television. You’d have to be living in a vacuum not to have heard about it.”

  Don turned to Dr. Schmidt. “So you’re positive it’s the VanBuren girl on the slab,” he said as he motioned to the stainless steel table in front of them.

  “As sure as I can be, given what I have to go on. Who else could it be?”

  Don just shook his head and then asked, “Have her parents called to make arrangements about when her body can be picked up?”

  Dr. Schmidt just shrugged. “No, not that I know of, which is strange.”

  Don walked out, while Fred quickly followed Don out of the room and caught up with him down the hallway.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Fred asked as he stopped and just stared at Don.

  Don shook his head and then shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he replied.

  Fred stared at Don. “Do you think by wanting her alive you can change what happened last night,” he said as he turned and walked away. He then suddenly stopped and turned back to Don. “Face it, she’s dead. She’s just another broad wasted. Nothing you do or say now will bring her back.” Fred just raised his arms and then continued. “God, I can’t believe what you just did.”

  Don walked up to Fred and held up his hands for him to stop. He took a deep breath.

  “What if it’s not our girl?”

  “Then who is it?

  Don shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said and then touched his forehead as if he had a headache.

  Fred hit Don in the arm. “Listen to yourself. Our job is to find out who did this,” he said as he paused a moment before he continued. “And if it’s not her, then maybe she’s our prime suspect. Did you ever think about that?”

  “Yeah,” was all Don could muster up to say.

  “And if it isn’t her, where is she?”

  “I wish I knew those answers, but something isn’t adding up.”

  Fred laughed at Don. “I know, and I wish to hell you’d get help.”

  Fred walked off down the hall to the elevator. Don stood rubbing his head to make the pain go away. Fred turned back to Don.

  “I think that hit to your head sent you over the edge.”

  Fred only hoped Don would snap out of it, but knew he was like a pit bull when it came to setting his sights on something. But there was no valid reason for why he should actually think Raven VanBuren was not the woman who was killed in that car. Fred tried his darndiest to think back to last night and analyze step-by-step to see if there was anything he in his own mind could come up with why Don could feasibly think she was still alive but could not come up with anything. It was just wishful thinking on his part.

  Once they talked to Senator Maxfield’s wife maybe they would get a few more pieces to the puzzle on this case. If the Senator’s wife was the one making the threats, then maybe that would put an end to Don’s fixation with the dead girl.

  Chapter 10

  Don drove up to the estate of Senator Maxfield. It was in a gated community with mansions surrounded by high security fences. Some even had guards posted out front. Don drove through the open gate and up the long winding driveway. He knew senators didn’t make the kind of money that bought a house like this, so there had to be old money behind this lifestyle. It was at times like this he thought about the family he was born into. His parents always struggled to make ends meet, and, looking at this estate, he wondered why some people seemed to have it all and others had to work hard for everything they had.

  Don parked near the front door. He glanced at the four pillars that graced the two-story mansion. The structure looked like it came right out of the book Gone with the Wind, even down to the cluster of old Magnolia trees that graced the front lawn.

  Fred was out of the car, walking up the path to the front door as Don slowly got out while looking around. Fred pressed the doorbell. The chimes were loud enough to be heard on the porch.

  It didn’t take long before the maid opened the door. She had on a dark-blue dress with a white apron like you see on the television, which surprised Don because he never really knew what maids in real life wore. Her matronly figure wore the uniform well. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Don half expected a perky little white cap, but then that would have been too much. The woman stood staunchly and stared at Don and Fred standing on the front porch with suspicion in her eyes.

  “Can I help you?” she asked with a curtness in her voice as she glanced beyond them to the car they drove.

  Don could tell that the woman was not impressed and figured she judged everyone by the automobile they drove. It was like that with the upper crust. Even their help had an air of superiority about them.

  Don normally didn’t get involved in high-profile cases. It just started with the investigation into a woman murdered in a burnt-out car, and now it was leading to a senator who had been missing for over a week. He only hoped he wasn’t stepping on any toes with his investigation. He would know soon enough.

  “Is Mrs. Maxfield in?” Don asked, taking the lead.

  “Is she expecting you?”

  “This is official business.”

  By then Don had his badge out and held it in front of the elderly woman. She turned and started to walk away. Don followed her, but she quickly turned around and held out her hand.

  “Wait here, I’ll see if she will receive you.”

  Don stared at her for the longest time, because this visit was not up for debate. They would not leave under any circumstance without seeing the Senator’s wife. He didn’t know why the maid thought there was a choice in the matter. Don reached in his pocket and handed her his business card.

  The maid accepted it reluctantly and just stared at it for the longest time before looking up and saying with a tone of concern, “She is not well.”

  The maid disappeared through a side door, leaving Don and Fred standing in the foyer. Don glanced up at the crystal chandelier that hung down from the tall ceiling. The winding staircase was impressive, and Don wondered how many bedrooms were up on the second floor, not to mention bathrooms, because he knew there had to be more than one. Don thought about his growing-up years with his two brothers, always fighting for bathroom-time first thing in the morning. Being the youngest, he always seemed to be last. The cold shower when he was younger was annoying, but as he grew older he found it to be invigorating first thing in the morning.

  It didn’t take long and the maid was back. Don wondered if she had other clothes that she wore when cleaning because the white apron didn’t look like it was worn while doing housework. Plus, her knees didn’t look like she did any work on her hands and knees. It finally occurred to Don that there might be people who came in for cleaning the mansion and the maid was just for show. The maid cleared her throat to get Don’s attention and then handed the business card back to him.

  “Mrs. Maxfield will receive you in the sun parlor.”

  The maid turned quickly and, without saying a word for them to follow her, she started walking toward the door she’d just come through. She had been very curt and tight-lipped, not giving Don any more information than what he asked for.

  Don was curious what a sun parlor looked like and didn’t have to wait long to get a glimpse of one. He was lucky enough to afford an apartment with a living room. Once they walked up to the door that was at the south end of the mansion, the maid turned to them.

  “Try not to upset her, please,” she said, in a way that reminded Don of his mother.

  Don didn’t say anything, just shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know what he could say to reassure this woman. This was a police investigation. He was not going to dance around this with kid gloves on.

  As the maid opened the door, Don knew now why this was the sun parlor. In his old neighborhood this room would have been called a screened-in porch but this room was lined wit
h triple-pane windows, no screens. The sun almost blinded them. Sitting in the corner was Ellen Maxfield, holding a beautiful Siamese cat on her lap. Its blue eyes stared cautiously at Don and Fred as they walked in. Through the window Don could see the kids playing in the backyard with an adult nearby. The adult looked more like a bodyguard than a nanny of sorts.

  Mrs. Maxfield had to be in her mid-thirties. Her hair was combed but nothing more. She wore no makeup and looked heavily sedated. The bags under her blue eyes contested to a woman who was in great turmoil. Don’s heart went out to her, yet he had to keep an open mind at least until he heard her voice.

  Don walked up to her and cleared his throat. Mrs. Maxfield finally looked up as if just realizing he stood in front of her. She clearly was not in her right mind.

  Fred on the other hand just stood inside the room and shut the door behind him.

  Ellen smiled politely and then said, “Susie said you were here on official business.”

  “Yes,” Don replied. Given her present state of mind he wasn’t so sure she would be of any help. And even though she spoke only a few words, Don knew now that she was not the woman who left the threatening phone messages at Raven’s work or at her home.

  “Is this about Willie?” she asked with a puzzled look on her face.

  “No, not exactly,” Don said.

  “Then what,” she asked, seeming a little confused.

  “Raven VanBuren. Did you hear about what happened to her?”

  “Yes, it was awful.”

  “We’d like some information.”

  Mrs. Maxfield continued to stroke the cat as if by doing so she could concentrate on what she was supposed to say. “I don’t understand any of this.”

  “Your husband is missing, his assistant has been murdered.”

  Suddenly the cat let out a screech as Mrs. Maxfield suddenly clenched her fingers into the cat’s back. It quickly jumped off her lap and scurried across the room.

  Fred took notice but did nothing, just kept a close watch on what Don was up to.

  “When was the last time you saw Ms. VanBuren?”