The Ashes of an Oak

by Bradbury, Chris

  Frank laughed. ‘What? And split up that happy couple? No. We’ll work it out. One way or another, we’ll work it out.’

  Frank sat at his desk with tight lips for half an hour. He knew that he was the older guy, the senior guy, the guy with the responsibility to set the fracture, but he was so mad at everything at that time that there just didn’t seem to be room for Steve any more. That made it worse. How could he not make room for a man who had been his friend and partner for all those years? He was there before James and would be there long after James was just a memory.

  ‘You should’ve told me,’ he said across the desk without looking up.

  For a second he thought that Steve wouldn’t reply, then he heard a pen being put down and the creak of Steve’s chair as the younger detective leaned back.

  ‘I know,’ said Steve. ‘I’m sorry. After what you’ve been through, I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s not about what I’ve been through, Steve, can’t you see that? You give IAD half a chance to get their claws into you…’

  ‘You’re right. I know.’

  The two lapsed again into silence.

  ‘I had no choice with the kid, Frank,’ said Steve after a minute.

  ‘I don’t doubt you, Steve. Not for one second do I doubt you. If you say that’s the way it went down, then that’s the way it went down.’ Frank waged a pen at Steve as he spoke. ‘But, if you’d gone with a uniform, he might not have tried it and you wouldn’t be giving IAD their chance. I liked him, Steve. I’m stuck with this…’ He cringed as he tried to find the right word. ‘…disappointment. It’s suffocating. I really trusted him, you know?’

  ‘I know. Again, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Me too. I should know better than to be pissed off with you, but you’re kind of like a son to me, you know. Now that Mary’s gone…’

  ‘Shut the hell up, Frank,’ said Steve with a smile. ‘You’ll have me crying into my coffee.’

  Frank returned to his paperwork. ‘Okay. Enough said. Now do some work.’

  Frank felt relief wash through him. The equilibrium was restored, normal was back in the house.

  At nine-thirty Kelly Peters called Frank.

  ‘Fancy some lunch?’ she asked.

  Frank was immediately suspicious. He’d never even shared lunch at work with Milt. ‘For real?’

  ‘Yeah. I just want to see how you are, you know? Milt wants me to keep an eye on you. The feminine touch. I think he thinks he’ll start to blubber if he gets all soft with you.’

  ‘Sure. What time?’

  ‘Midday? Luger’s?’

  ‘Jeez! You paying?’

  ‘My treat. Come alone, okay? Easier to talk.’

  ‘Sure. I’ll meet you there.’

  Frank put the phone down.

  Steve saw the look on Frank’s face. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘A pretty lady just invited me out to lunch,’ said Frank. ‘Come alone, said the lady.’

  ‘Excellent. Who?’

  ‘Kelly Peters.’

  ‘I thought she was…’

  ‘She wants to mother me, you dolt. Anyone willing to pay Luger prices can mother me all they want. Do some work.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  Frank took a cab to Luger’s and found a quiet spot. He gave a rough description of Kelly to the guy on the door, found out that she had already given out a description of him and was shown to her table.

  After the preliminaries, he ordered a beer and a burger and fries, Kelly the same.

  ‘So, what’s up?’ he asked. ‘I’m too old, you’re too young, my wife just died and you’re in love with Milt. I’m not here because you have suddenly fallen hopelessly in love with me, am I?’

  Kelly blushed. Frank liked it. She had never seemed the type to blush.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Worse.’ She said it without humour.

  ‘What’s worse than a beautiful Deputy ME falling in love with you?’ He put his hand across his heart and feigned injury. ‘Oh, the tragedy. Oh, the pain.’

  She leaned forward and spoke in a whisper. ‘I think I may have found something in James Cowdell’s apartment that…’

  She stopped as their beers came.

  Frank quit with the jokes. ‘That what?’

  ‘That doesn’t quite add up.’

  ‘Tell me,’ said Frank.

  He began to feel knotted up inside.

  Kelly looked at him as if she was about to pronounce a death sentence.

  ‘What, Kelly? What?’

  ‘Your wife’s…Mary’s…’

  Ah, thought Frank, that was it. She was afraid to open wounds.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘Just say it.’

  Kelly took a large drink of the beer. Frank lit a cigarette as he waited for her.

  ‘Mary’s skin had frostbite,’ she said quickly.

  ‘Okay,’ said Frank as neutrally as he could. ‘She was kept in a freezer.’

  Now he felt sick. Now he felt like his head was full and ready to explode.

  ‘James Cowdell didn’t have a freezer. She was found in a cupboard, hidden in a bag, tied up at the top. Her skin had freezer burn.’

  ‘Freezer burn?’

  Kelly nodded and started to explain. ‘When meat…I’m sorry…’

  ‘It’s fine,’ reassured Frank. ‘Go ahead.’

  Kelly forced herself into professional mode. ‘Freezer burn occurs when frozen food has been damaged by dehydration and oxidation. Over time, the water molecules in the meat make their way to the surface. Some of these water molecules become ice crystals. This causes the meat to dry out. It shrivels, looks completely different to the rest of the meat.’

  ‘And you found this on Mary?’

  ‘And on Charlene Aston’s finger.’

  ‘And this leads you to conclude what?’

  Frank knew the answer. Frank dreaded the answer. He wanted to tell her to stop and just leave, to pretend that this conversation had been no more than a bad dream.

  ‘They were put there.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And there’s only one person who could have done that. There’s only one person who shot James and made sure he couldn’t argue with what had been found.’

  ‘Steve? Jesus!’ Frank ran his hand over his head, over his soft regrowth of hair, down along his scar. ‘I don’t believe it,’ he said. ‘That’s ridiculous. Someone else could have put it there.’

  ‘Come on, Frank,’ said Kelly through clenched teeth. ‘You think I can’t tell how long a something’s been out of a freezer? Who else had access to James’ apartment? He had no girlfriend. He wasn’t living with anybody else. The apartment was the tidiest apartment I ever saw. There is no way this kid had…that in his cupboard for any amount of time. Ever.’

  Frank brought his fist down on the table. The place went quiet and all eyes turned towards them, then the hubbub slowly returned. ‘Why then? Tell me why?’

  ‘You, Frank. You.’

  Frank’s face creased in disbelief. ‘What?’

  ‘You were in hospital when Charlene Astle was killed. That was an alibi for you. You had doubts about your own guilt, Frank, Milt told me that. What better way for someone to prove your innocence than to have the Token Killer to strike while you were in hospital?’

  ‘And Mary?’

  ‘He screwed up with the first one. The purse? The purse in the drain? Not there one moment, there the next? Our crew don’t miss things like that. We’re too good. He went back and put the purse in the drain and then claimed to have found and make up that bullshit about rats or traffic or Christ knows what else moving it.’

  ‘And Mary?’ repeated Frank.

  ‘He had to kill again to make it more convincing. On top of this, he didn’t want you to retire. He’s crazy about you, Frank. You know his own Dad died when he was eight? If Mary was out of the way, he thought you’d put off your retirement.’

  ‘That’s just crazy talk, Kelly.’

  ‘Is it? Has he asked you much about y
our retirement recently? Maybe asked if you’d thought about postponing it?’ Frank didn’t answer. ‘Has he?’

  ‘Yes, dammit. Yes.’

  Kelly dipped into her purse and took out a clear plastic bag. Frank could see the steel inside it.

  ‘I bet you any money you like this is his,’ she said.

  Frank felt his breath whistle from him like he’d been punched.

  ‘There’s a million of those things in New York. It could be anybody’s.’

  ‘Why don’t we go and see his wife? Ask her?’

  He was on the ropes. Frank knew he was on the ropes with no fight left. Kelly had jabbed and jabbed and then come up with the killer blow.

  He picked up his hat. ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

  As he got up, the burgers arrived.

  He threw a twenty down on the table. ‘Give them to them,’ he said, nodding his head at two nervous kids cooing at each other over a table. ‘I’ve lost my appetite.’

  ‘Frank?’ Val Wayt leaned forward and kissed Frank on the cheek. ‘How are you? Up and about so soon. You must have the constitution of a mountain goat.’

  ‘No, just the face of one,’ said Frank. ‘This is Kelly Peters, a friend of mine.’ Val looked at her and smiled. ‘Could we come in for a moment, Val?’

  ‘Of course you can. Would you like some coffee?’

  Frank and Kelly walked into the house. It was bright and airy and spoke of young people at the beginning of their journey, with fashionable, deeply coloured vases and almost psychedelic pictures on the wall.

  ‘No thanks,’ said Frank. ‘We’ve just had lunch.’

  Val led them into the living room. ‘Sit down.’

  They sat on a white sofa that sat upon a white shag rug. With the white walls, it was like stepping into Heaven.

  ‘I just need your help with something, Val,’ said Frank as lightly as possible.

  ‘Sure,’ said Val. ‘Anything for you, Frank.’

  Kelly took the clear bag out of her purse and laid it on the glass topped table between them.

  ‘Have you seen one of those before?’ asked Frank.

  Val bent forward and looked at the bag. ‘Yes, of course. It’s a knife sharpener. We have one just like that.’

  Frank’s heart fell. ‘Could I see that please, Val?’

  ‘Of course. Give me a moment and I’ll get it for you.’

  She got up and went to the kitchen.

  ‘Shit,’ said Frank.

  ‘I’m sorry, Frank,’ said Kelly. ‘She may find their one. You never know. This could still be anybody’s.’

  They waited an uncomfortable moment for Val to return. ‘I can’t seem to find it, Frank,’ she said breathlessly. ‘It’s not in its usual place.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Frank. ‘That’s okay. I knew you had one like it and just wondered where you’d bought it, that’s all.’

  Val laughed. ‘I didn’t buy that. Good Lord, no. That belonged to Steve’s mom and she gave it to Steve. I never use the damn thing. I get Steve to sharpen the knives around here.’

  ‘Well, that’s fine,’ said Frank. ‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you.’

  ‘You could have saved yourself a journey and just asked Steve.’

  ‘I know that now, but we were in the area anyway, working on stuff. You know how it is. Even on a Sunday.’

  ‘You should be taking things easy after all you’ve had to put up with,’ advised Val in her most motherly tone.

  ‘I will,’ said Frank. ‘I promise. I’ve just got some things to do. We’d better go.’

  She kissed him affectionately on the cheek and embraced him. ‘Will you come to dinner sometime?’

  ‘I’d like that,’ said Frank. He loathed himself.

  ‘Well, don’t let me hold you up. It’s nice to meet you, Kelly.’

  Kelly shook Val’s hand. ‘You too, Val.’

  Frank was relieved to hear the front door close behind them.

  As they walked back to Kelly’s car, he suddenly veered off, went behind a tree and threw up.

  Chapter 33

  Frank sat with Kelly in the car, parked opposite the precinct. He looked up at the grand red brick building and wondered how different it would look tomorrow.

  ‘You want me to wait?’ asked Kelly. ‘Or come up?’

  Frank looked at his watch. He didn’t know why, it was completely irrelevant.

  ‘Would you hang on here? Just in case Emmet wants to see you? If we both go marching in there past Steve and into the Captain’s office, he’ll know something’s up.’

  ‘I’ll wait,’ said Kelly. ‘It’s not a problem. Are you okay to do this?’

  ‘No,’ said Frank. ‘I never thought anything like this could happen to me. Sure there are cops on the take and the odd kooky arrest, but overall they’re a good bunch, just trying to get by. I never envisaged arresting my own partner. I never envisaged arresting anybody for the murder of my wife. ‘ He ran his hand over his knees and wiped the sweat from them. ‘It’s an absurd life in an absurd world, don’t you think?’

  ‘I hope not,’ said Kelly. ‘Absurd things happen sometimes, that’s all.’

  Frank opened the door. ‘I’ll be back to let you know,’ he said.

  ‘Take your time.’

  Frank crossed to the precinct house. He felt cold inside and nausea swept over him in waves. This is it, he thought. This is my last arrest. After this I’m away, away to the woods, to the lake, to a solitary life where the only absurdity is that the sun still rises and falls.

  ‘Sinatra,’ said Coleman as he came through the door. ‘How you doing?’

  Frank raised a hand and headed quickly through the stairs and into the squad room.

  Steve looked up as soon as he heard the gate go.

  Don’t look him in the eye, said the voice in Frank’s head. Don’t look him in the eye or you’re done for.

  He walked past Steve at an even pace, but felt like he was weaving like a drunk.

  ‘Hey, Frank,’ he heard Steve say. ‘How was lunch?’

  He ignored him, walked on towards the Captain’s office and, without knocking, entered.

  He closed the door and sat down in a chair.

  Steve watched them talk, watched their lips as the conversation went from slow to fast to slow again. Frank pointed an arm towards the door and got up to open it, but Emmet hushed him, put a hand on his arm and got him to sit down again. The conversation became animated, heated, the gestures confrontational, despairing and full of disbelief. Nothing could be heard outside the office but the muffled rise and fall passionate reason, but all who looked on through the glass had their own interpretation of what they saw and all who saw knew that no good would come of this.

  Then Steve saw Emmet look at him, only for a second, but he saw in his eyes the harsh syllable of doubt and it seemed to last for an eternity.

  Without hesitation, he reached into his drawer, grabbed a handgun and fled.

  The squad room watched, frozen, unaware of the tornado about to be unleashed, of the damage it would do, how it would affect the periphery of all their lives.

  Frank saw Steve go. Emmet stood, his arm repeatedly firing like arrow towards the door. Frank said something and held out his hand. He jumped with urgency. Emmet went into his desk draw and pulled out a gun and handed it to Frank.

  ‘Now go,’ he screamed in silence. ‘Go.’

  The office door opened and Frank bolted past them.

  Emmet stood in the doorway and issued orders with absolute calm. ‘Mike, go with Frank. Bob, get a call out. Steve Wayt is to be arrested on sight for murder.’ Bob looked like a rabbit in headlights. ‘Do it,’ said Emmet.

  Frank took the stairs three at a time. With each jump he crashed into the wall and with each crash a pain jolted through the side of his head. As he ran through the precinct reception, he noticed all eyes on the door and knew that Steve had left.

  He ran through the doors and saw Kelly standing next to the car.

  She pointed
right. ‘That way,’ she shouted.

  Frank took off, his lungs already screaming in revolt at the extra work they were being forced to do, his head swimming in disarray.

  There he saw Steve, a hundred yards ahead, running like a greyhound along East New York Avenue, careless of who got in his way, of the gun in his hand that caused onlookers to shy away at the sight of it.

  Frank pushed on, pushed his legs to the point where he thought he was going to fall over them, to the point where they were protesting at the pain, going to jelly as they tried to seize each grain of oxygen from Frank’s leaden lungs.

  Steve bolted into Rockaway and Frank followed, but he was losing ground. He had lost about twenty yards already. There was no way on this earth that he would catch him.

  He heard sirens behind him and three squad cars raced past him and turned down Rockaway themselves.

  As he turned the corner, he heard a squeal of tyres as the cars pulled up, then the sound of doors closing and heavy feet upon the hot summer sidewalk.

  He reached the units out of breath and dizzy.

  ‘Where is he?’ he shouted. His voice broke in desperation. ‘Where is he?’

  One of the uniforms pointed at an empty building. ‘He ran in there. Pink McCauley and Jim Baker went in after him.’

  Frank spat and went after them.

  ‘Let them deal with it, Frank,’ called the uniform after him. ‘You look dead on your feet, man.’

  Frank dismissed him with a wave of his hand and went in through the broken down door.

  The place was recently vacated. It could have been any office in any building, the only thing missing was the people. Someone had left in a hurry. Each desk, each chair, could have held the ghost of someone just departed.

  Frank held his gun up ahead of him, his arms flexed at the elbows, wrists tight, hands wrapped around the grip one over another.

  ‘Jim?’ he called. ‘Jim Baker?’

  The deep voice of Jim Baker bounced off the empty walls. ‘That you, Frank?’

  ‘Yes it is. You and Pink get out of here. Cover the exits.’

  ‘What about you?’

  Frank edged forward and swung round a cabinet. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  A shot rang out.