The Burnt Remains

by Alex P. Berg

  “To protect someone?”

  “Possibly. Or there could be a more nefarious reason.”

  Despite the fact that we’d had a good day—we’d identified Gillian Cross, captured her, and had someone confess to the murder of Stella Vernon—I felt defeated. “So what now?”

  Dean stared down the hallway, his eyes distant. “We’ll keep digging. Keep pulling at the threads until the whole things unravels—even if someone instructs us not to.”

  My brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “I need to take Radoslaw’s confession to the captain,” said Dean. “I’ll make clear my suspicions, but if Ellison thinks Radoslaw’s admission is good enough, that may mark the end of the investigation.”

  I blinked, not believing what I’d heard. “You’re kidding. Why would the captain do that?”

  Dean flashed a glum smile as stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You remember JT Vernon is running for congress, right? Sometimes the proper resolution in the cleanest, or so people at the top would have us believe. Don’t worry about it. That’s my problem. You have others to deal with.”

  “I do?”

  “The one we talked about this morning?” said Dean. “With your boyfriend? It’s about time to head home, after all.”

  My heart sunk. I’d been so focused on the case I’d forgotten what awaited me at home. But Dean was right. My problems wouldn’t solve themselves, and it was time to make a change.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  I closed the apartment door behind me as I slipped off my shoes. “Cliff? You home?”

  A bit of noise from the back alerted me before his response did. “In the bedroom. Getting ready for duty. Working third shift tonight.”

  I hung my coat on the rack by the door before heading toward his voice. As I walked, I noticed a brown paper baggie on the kitchen counter. Though it was faint, I detected an aroma of grilled onions and charred meat. It would be like Cliff to make peace with food, but I ignored the smell and the rumbling in my belly as I headed into the bedchambers.

  I found Cliff in front of the mirror, working his way up the buttons on his shirt. He only had three left, but he usually left the one at the collar unbuttoned.

  He gave me a quick glance. “I left a burger from Phat’s on the counter. I didn’t feel like heading any further before work, but something’s better than nothing, right?”

  “I appreciate the food as much as the gesture, Cliff. You know that.”

  Cliff moved onto his cuffs. “Anyway, Sergeant Willows asked if I could get in early tonight. I don’t pull a lot of nights, so I don’t know him as well as I do Zaxby or Anderson.” He grabbed his watch and slapped it on his wrist. “How was your day? Catch any criminals?”

  “I did. Maybe two, though one of them turned himself in. I don’t think he did it, but that’s neither here nor there. Cliff, can we talk?”

  Cliff glanced at the watch he’d put on. “Can it wait until tomorrow? Like I said, I promised Willows I’d be there by eight.”

  “Five minutes, Cliff. This is important.”

  He sighed. He turned away from the mirror, resting a brawny arm on the dresser as he regarded me with his warm brown eyes. “I’m listening.”

  I took a deep breath to still my nerves. He really was a handsome guy, but lust alone did not a relationship make. I needed to be honest with him. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night. About me not paying enough attention to you. About me investing too much of myself in my work and not enough into our relationship. About me not being emotionally available, for lack of a better term.”

  “Nell, I think I know where this is going, and—”

  I held up a hand. “Please, Cliff. I need to get this out.”

  Cliff pressed his lips together and nodded.

  “I’ve thought about it,” I said. “And you’re right. I haven’t been there for you, certainly not to the degree you deserve. It was simpler when we were both in the academy. We’d spend all day training, go home at the same time, share the same experiences. It was easy to connect. With our conflicting schedules and being at different precincts now, it’s worlds harder, but that isn’t the biggest problem. It’s that I have a different focus than I did at the academy. At the time I thought establishing a career as a police officer would be a steady ascent, with trials along the way, sure, but a linear path. It’s been anything but. A chaotic jumble. I feel like a marionette with all the directions I’m being pulled. If I’m going to navigate it, I need to put my focus into my career.”

  “You mean, that’s where you want it to be.”

  I deflated a little. “Cliff…”

  “Don’t take that the wrong way. It’s not a dig. Just an observation.” He lifted his hand to his chin, rubbing his beard scruff as he stared out the window. “You know, when you were struggling with your TO and told me you were thinking about quitting, I supported you. I told you not to give up because I believed you could be a great officer. I’d seen your potential in the academy, and yet there was this voice in the back of my mind telling me it might be better if you jumped ship. That it would be easier if I was the only one on the force. Now that you’ve joined Dean’s team, I realize I was right, even if I also realize I was being selfish. It wouldn’t have been better for you, just for me. Because it’s clear you’re finally doing what you’re meant to, even if you haven’t fully accepted it.”

  As strained as the situation was, the compliment brought a smile to my face. “Thanks, Cliff.”

  Cliff sighed. “I just wish you’d be honest with me. Because the fact of the matter is, your job, your time, your focus. We could work through all of it if the will to do so was there. But will isn’t the problem, is it?” He brought his soulful eyes back to meet mine. “Do you love me, Nell?”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it again as I thought of how to respond. “I think you’re a great guy. I like you a lot.”

  Cliff smiled. “That’s the problem. Don’t worry. It’s how relationships work sometimes—or don’t. I know because I’m the kind of person who falls fast and hard, just like you are. Sometimes when you fall, you land on your face.”

  I wrung my hands. “I wish I could tell you something different.”

  “Same here.” He glanced at his watch. “I should be going. I know we’ve got a lot to hash out. The apartment, for one. Maybe we can get a foldaway bed for the living room until we figure out something more permanent. Or we can talk to the landlord. He might have another apartment available. I don’t know about rent, but—”

  “Cliff. It’s okay. I’ll pack my most important possessions tonight. I think I have someone I can stay with tomorrow. You can keep the apartment.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You sure?”

  “It’s within walking distance of the Williams Street precinct. I have to take the subway to get to the Fifth. Only makes sense I find something closer. I’ll make it work.”

  “Okay, then.” Cliff patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”

  “If I’m still around. Depends on the hour.”

  Cliff came over. His eyes weren’t teary, but they had a sadness to them, nonetheless. “It was nice while it lasted, Nell. I’ll miss what we had.”

  I eked out a smile. “Me, too.”

  Cliff nodded and headed for the door. I watched him go, feeling an ache in my chest that reflected Cliff’s eyes. A voice inside me wanted to cry out, to tell him I’d made a horrible mistake, but I swatted it down. I’d made the right choice, even though it hurt. Hopefully I’d learn something from the pain. Maybe the next time, I’d catch myself before I fell. Or if Dean’s and my conversation this morning was any indication, perhaps I already had.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  As it turned out, Captain Ellison either found Radoslaw’s testimony convincing, or he was unwilling to stir the political pot. When I arrived at the Fifth, Dean conveyed to me he’d officially closed the murder and blackma
il investigations, citing our suspects in custody for each. I didn’t have to remind Dean that we’d failed to fully solve either case or that Radoslaw’s story had more holes in it than a pair of fishnet stockings. He acknowledged as much himself, and in defiance of the captain’s orders, he’d made a few calls prior to my arrival.

  One of those had been to Vernon’s residence. During the call, Dean hadn’t spoken to JT Vernon. Mossbottom had stonewalled him, but the butler hadn’t been completely opaque. He’d related his master’s concerns about Radoslaw, that the man had always been surly, antisocial, and a bit of a sociopath, and he mustered up a fair bit of anger at our department’s inability to identify Radoslaw earlier, anger Dean described as ‘perfunctory’ and ‘forced.’ Mossbottom also informed Dean that if he wanted to know more about Mr. Vernon’s thoughts on the matter, he was welcome to listen to his press conference regarding his wife’s death and the arrest of her killer, which would be occurring on live radio in the afternoon.

  The news of Vernon’s press conference came as a surprise but not a shock. During our last meeting, it already seemed he was scheming to use his wife’s death to bolster his campaign, though it struck me as fortuitous that he’d managed to set up a broadcast press conference to discuss Radoslaw so soon after the man came forward. In fact, I wasn’t sure how he knew he’d confessed, although I suppose Captain Ellison might’ve leaked him the news, which would then explain the captain’s stance on our investigation.

  For what it was worth, Dean shared my concerns. He found it too convenient that Radoslaw had reared his head just in time for Vernon to lay blame of his wife’s death at his feet, not to mention that her death would engender more sympathy if it were at the hands of a supposed sociopath like Radoslaw instead of a disgruntled drug dealer or her long-lost prostitute of a sister.

  When I asked what our next move was, Dean responded that we had none. The investigation was closed, and he’d been shuffled to existing open cases. That said, if we were to have a next move, it would be to investigate Radoslaw and figure out why he’d admitted to a murder he’d never committed. Dean also mentioned that while he’d be busy on new cases, he didn’t anticipate there would be much for me to do today, and if I wanted to pick him up a coffee from Sangellies’ Brew Stand on the far, far side of town, I was welcome to do so. The keys to his Viper were on the desk if I wanted them. But he made sure I understood the choice was mine.

  I thought about Captain Ellison’s warning for about two seconds before I grabbed the keys and headed out.

  There were a number of places I could’ve visited, but I started with the obvious one. After parking at the Vernon and Daly’s entrance, I followed the same path I’d taken when I’d first visited the circus, along the painted white fence hung with campaign posters, right at the covered wagon, and past the trailers and the cat pen. I slowed as I reached the aviary, searching the exterior for signs of workers. I didn’t find any, but the exterior enclosure door was cracked an inch. I heard whooping sounds from within that sounded as if they belonged to the monkeys as well as a voice telling them to settle down, so I took a chance and pushed my way inside.

  Morning sunlight filtered lazily through the branches as I passed through the interior drape. In the distance, a brown and green blur resolved itself into a monkey with a cabbage leaf in its mouth as it settled on a branch and munched away. On the path, not far from where Stella’s remains had been recovered, stood a young man with a crate of produce. He was throwing it to the monkeys as much as they were taking it from him by force, but by the tone of his voice, he was having a good time.

  “Come on, you scamps,” he said. “Settle down. I’ll make sure you all get some.”

  I spoke up as I got close. “Excuse me?”

  The young man startled and spun, which the macaques took as an opening. One of them jumped and grabbed the side of his crate, ripping it from his hands and causing the contents to spill across the forest floor.

  “Dang it, Gerard! I was going to give it to you soon enough. Fine. Take it.” He turned to me, wiping his shaggy hair out of his face. “Sorry about that. I didn’t hear you coming.”

  “And I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Officer Phair, with the NWPD. Do you work here?”

  “Yeah. The name’s Willard.” He stuck out a hand, which I shook. “You here about Mrs. Vernon? Seems like we’ve had police around for days.”

  I nodded as I took my hand back. “Yeah. Do you work here in the aviary?”

  The young man shrugged. “Sometimes. Guess I’ll be doing more of it now that Krzysztof’s gone. Still can’t believe he murdered Mr. Vernon’s wife.”

  Apparently, news travelled fast. I guess it was to be expected given Vernon’s press conference on the subject this coming afternoon. “That’s actually why I was here. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions about Radoslaw. How well did you know him?”

  Willard shrugged again as he glanced at the macaques, who were dispersing with the last of the vegetables. “Not that well, if I’m being honest. Kept to himself for the most part. He only opened up when he was telling me about the animals. Some people are like that I guess. Only comfortable in certain environments. This one was his, I think.”

  I didn’t like that Willard’s summary of Radoslaw fit the sociopath profile he’d laid out for himself, but I pressed on. “So you probably couldn’t tell me if he had any sort of relationship with Mrs. Vernon?”

  The young man lifted an eyebrow. “Like… relations kind of relationship?”

  “No. Just if he spoke to her often. Had a rapport.”

  Willard shook his head. “I couldn’t tell you.”

  “Don’t suppose you were out and about several nights ago? The night before Mrs. Vernon’s remains were found? Radoslaw supposedly had a fire burning in the pit out back in the wee hours of the morning.”

  “If he did, I wouldn’t have known about it. I’m a sound sleeper. Try not to get up before eight if I can avoid it.”

  I could commiserate, even if my career aspirations had made that close to impossible. “What about Radoslaw’s illness? Has he always had that cough?”

  “I don’t think so.” Willard leaned down to pick up his crate. “Seemed like a chronic thing. He didn’t like to talk about it, but it was clearly getting worse. If it’s his health you’re curious about, I’m not the one you should be asking, though.”

  “Yeah. He mentioned he had a nephew that works here. Mateusz?”

  “Sure, him. But I was talking about Krzysztof’s wife.”

  I blinked. “Radoslaw is married?”

  Willard nodded. “Yeah. His wife’s name is Zuzanna. She was one of our unicyclists and jugglers.”

  “What do you mean, was?”

  “Uh…” Willard’s mouth dropped open, and I could tell he hadn’t meant to drop that tidbit.

  I tapped my badge. “You’re not under oath, but you’d better tell the truth, otherwise we might have to continue this conversation at the station.”

  Willard swallowed hard. “Look, nobody tells me anything. I just hear rumors.”

  “What rumors?”

  Willard looked around, as if the macaques were listening. “Apparently, Zuzanna took off last night. So did Mateusz. Nobody knows where they went.”

  “Before or after Krzysztof turned himself in?”

  “I don’t know. When was that?”

  I gave him an approximate time.

  “After, I guess.”

  “And what does the rumor mill suggest as the reason they left?”

  The young zookeeper shrugged again. “Your guess is as good as mine. But if Krzysztof did murder Stella Vernon… well, I can’t imagine Mr. Vernon would keep either of them around long, if you catch my drift.”

  I couldn’t either, although firing them was only one of the routes he might’ve taken…

  As I considered the implications of the Radoslaws’ flight, I felt a rush of wind and a rustle of feathers, followed by a powerful avian cry.

&
nbsp; Willard’s eyes widened as he looked over my shoulder. “Well, I’ll be damned…”

  I turned to look at what had drawn his attention. On the branch above me perched a bird, similar in size to a macaw but with brilliant red and gold feathers and a tail close to two feet in length. It tilted its head back and forth, regarding us with eyes as golden as its plumes. “Who is this majestic little guy?”

  “Girl, actually,” said Willard. “She’s an Orellian scarlet aracanga, also known as a firebird. I can’t believe she’s back. She’s one of the birds that disappeared when the enclosure was left open the night of the murder. We were able to wrangle some of the birds that got out, but not her. I wonder how she made her way back in?”

  “Back up a sec,” I said. “A firebird?”

  “It’s because of their plumage,” said Willard. “Catch them in the right light and it looks like they’re on fire. Supposedly, early settlers to the continent scared some of them at sunset, and they shot into the sky, like streams of golden flame. Helped inspire the legend of the phoenix, or so the history books would have us believe. They’re beautiful birds, aren’t they?”

  I glanced at Willard, then at the bird, then back at Willard. “Radoslaw mentioned this bird. You’re sure it went missing in the aftermath of Mrs. Vernon’s death?”

  The young man snorted. “I mean, she’s hard to miss. I think I would’ve seen her over the past few days if she’d been here. I still don’t know how she got back in. Maybe there’s a tear in the netting?”

  His brow furrowed as he stared at the radiant bird, probably wondering at the bird’s recent journey. I did, too, but I suspected the theory I was putting together was very, very different that his.

  Chapter Forty

  Dean and Justice weren’t at their desks when I returned to the precinct, but Moss was. She twirled a finger around a curl of her long blonde hair as I crossed to my desk. “Look who finally showed up. Where have you been all morning?”