Piece Keeper

by Antwan Floyd Sr.

  “Thanks, Baby Love. Why are you so good to me?”

  “I ask God that every minute of every day, my Cariño.”

  ***

  Waeltz stood in the cozy den surrounded by war memorabilia. The walls were of a wooden foundation, the furniture soft leather, and bookshelves aligned the walls stuffed with books about strategy. Waeltz thumbed through the collection. Some he’d read, some he hadn’t. There was Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, Robert Greene’s The 48 Laws of Power, and Che Guerra’s journals to books written about General Patton, and General Albert C. Wedemeyer. The smell of fifty year old cognac and Marlboro filled the small room. He’d spent many days in this room hiding under the desk in the dark with a flashlight reading books. It was his secret fort when he didn’t want to hear the screams. His mom always told him that he wasn’t hurting her, that it was just something that grownups did and he would understand when he was older. He’d wanted to believe his mother but the scars on her wrist and legs made it hard to. It wasn’t until his mother passed and he went away to live with his father that he finally understood and stopped hating Witherspoon. He learned that his mother wasn’t being hurt. She was just a freak. She and Witherspoon were into really deep, dark sex. Witherspoon had kept contact with him over the years and was the main influence on him becoming a cop. No one knew of their past. Waeltz knew that Witherspoon was pissed about the way everything went down. That’s why he was there to see how he could help with the situation.

  The truth was that Waeltz admired Witherspoon. He felt a sense of pride looking at the older man sitting behind his desk. A framed picture of General Robert E. Lee hung behind him on the wall. He was prepared to do whatever he needed to help clear his name even if it meant risking his career.

  “I had to do it like this, sir,” Waeltz explained.

  “Did you now?”

  “Yes, sir. I couldn’t warn you. I didn’t know what you would do. You may have—”

  “Ran?” Witherspoon asked cutting him off midsentence.

  Waeltz cleared his throat.

  Witherspoon continued. “You think I’m guilty.”

  Waeltz remained silent.

  Witherspoon spoke again. “It’s alright if you doubt my innocence. Just stand there and be a man and say it to my face.”

  “Truth is, sir… I don’t know.”

  “I won’t go down without a fight.”

  Waeltz approached his desk and pressed both balled up fists down onto the oak making sure the chief had his direct attention. He stared into his eyes. “You won’t go down at all if I have anything to do with it.”

  “You speak like a man with a plan.”

  “A good plan violently executed now is better than a perfect plan executed next week.”

  Witherspoon reclined in his seat and swiveled. “Patton,” Witherspoon responded referring to General Patton.

  “Yes, sir. I studied just like you taught me.”

  “Studying is one thing but can you execute?”

  “Tu Mu says: Your surviving spy must be a man of keen intellect, though in outward appearance a fool; of shabby exterior, but with a will of iron. He must be active, robust, endowed with physical strength and courage; thoroughly accustomed to all sorts of dirty work, able to endure hunger and cold, and to put up with shame and ignominy. To pull this off sir, I will be the biggest fool my enemy has ever seen.”

  “There will be some collateral damage.”

  Waeltz picked up the bottle of cognac, poured himself a drink, and held the glass in the air as if making a toast. “We can’t save everybody. It is inevitable in all wars that there will be lost on both sides.”

  ***

  The next morning as Black made his way downstairs into the living room he cleared his throat loudly purposely awaking James and Teresa who were still asleep on the couch. He didn’t know how he should feel about the situation. It was already weird enough with Teresa being there. Throwing James, her other man, into the mix was another story altogether. He shook the thought making his way to the kitchen to make coffee. “You two sleep well?” he asked over his shoulder.

  James didn’t respond. He simply stood and stretched.

  Teresa squinted her eyes with an annoyed, tired look on her face. “What time is it? It’s still dark outside.”

  “A little after 6 A.M,” Black responded from the kitchen “Anyone want coffee?”

  “I’ll take a cup,” James responded as he moved towards the kitchen.

  “You’ve gotta be freaking kidding me. I’m going back to bed,” Teresa mumbled as she headed towards the stairs to her room.

  James sat at on a barstool at the kitchen island as the coffee began to percolate. “What now?” he asked as Black placed two coffee cups on the counter. “Where do we stand? What now? Or the next step in Teresa’s case… what now?”

  “Depends on your level of honesty.”

  “Honesty?”

  As the room began to fill with the smell of fresh brewed coffee Black moved towards the refrigerator. “Milk or cream?”

  “Black,” James responded as he held his empty mug in the air.

  Black returned with the pot of fresh coffee, filled James’ cup, and then his own. “Be honest with me, bro… since you helped me out with my little squabble last night do you not like me any less?”

  James took a hefty swallow of the strong hot coffee before for responding. “Not at all. I still don’t like you much.”

  “Good. I would hate to think it was a one way thing. So from here we keep this line of being civil with one another going for the sake of Teresa. I get the sense that you care about her but it’s something about you that’s not quite right. She may not see it but that’s why I’m here.”

  “Is it now?”

  Black sipped his coffee. “Damn right.”

  Morena entered the kitchen surprised to see that James was still there. Her eyebrow rose as she made eye contact with Black with a ‘what the fuck’ look in her eye. Black returned the look with a ‘we’ll discuss it later’ look in his. It was something that the two often did; a form of non-verbal communication. They’d learned to read one another well.

  “You guys want breakfast?” she asked as she opened the refrigerator and removed a carton of eggs.

  Black didn’t respond. He sipped his coffee giving James the evil eye as James smirked menacingly.

  Chapter Seven

  Black stepped into the precinct where he was greeted by Waeltz and immediately led down to the basement through a damp and cool corridor. They walked until they came upon a three inch steel door. Black paused and looked around the room he was in. “What is this place?”

  “We call it the catacombs.”

  “Catacombs? Like a cemetery? There are bodies down here?”

  Waeltz smirked, turned, and pulled a little harder than Black had expected to get the door open. “Be serious, Love. Why would we keep dead bodies in the basement of a police station?”

  “I am being serious. You tell me why would the basement of a police station even be considered a crime scene for a work place rape?”

  Waeltz didn’t respond. He just stepped to the side as the crime scene investigators entered with equipment in tow. In comparison to the corridor that led to the catacombs, the inside was surprisingly well illuminated. There were rows and rows of shelves packed with boxes upon boxes.

  “What are these? Cold cases?” Black asked referring to the boxes he assumed were filled with files and evidence from cold case files. That’s what they called unsolved crimes: cold cases.

  “Yeah. We don’t get down here often. Don’t have the man power, money, or resources to keep many cases going.”

  It was now Black’s turn to remain silent. He carefully walked around the room looking for anything that didn’t belong and could possibly link the three officers to Teresa’s rape. He had put in a request to have a forensics team from a neighboring county to perform the DNA sweep for evidence but was denied by the District Attorney in charge of the cas
e. He had his reservations about how bias the team he was relying on would be. These were officers they were used to working with and in a small town like Danville he wouldn’t be surprised if some of them were related to one of the three accused. He couldn’t worry about that now. He had to have faith in the law. He knew it wasn’t perfect but he believed in the constitution and his oath as an officer of the courts was something that he took very seriously.

  Black slid on a pair of plastic gloves and watched as crime scene investigators opened silver metallic cases and removed spray bottles. They went on to spray various locations in the room beginning with the stainless steel table. They then turned off the lights in the room and turned on a portable black light. The room lit up with various stains that were once invisible to the naked eye. Black remained silent with his game face on. He had to keep his composure. He didn’t want to show any weakness. On the outside he was cold as ice but on the inside his mind he was screaming, “Run! Turn and get out of here!” He knew that the stains he saw were secretions from the rapists and possibly blood from Teresa. It made him wonder if this had been the first time that something like this had happened. He wanted to question the female officers that worked there. He knew it would be a slim chance that they’d cooperate. He filed the thought in the back of his mind with the intent to re-visit it if this hunt for evidence didn’t turn up anything pertinent.

  “A lot of fluids in here,” Waeltz said stating the obvious.

  Black grunted.

  They both watched as the crime technicians collected samples and sprayed SPERM HY-LITER, a fluorescent monoclonal antibody-based kit used for the microscopic identification of sperm from sexual assault evidence.

  Waeltz continued. “I doubt we get anything out of here we can use… print wise anyway.”

  “Prints would be nice. That would place them in the basement but I’m assuming every officer who works here has access to the catacombs correct?”

  “True. There would be no real reason for uniformed officers to be searching cold case files but there are no official restrictions in place preventing them access.”

  “So if we do find prints they could have left them the night of the rape or two months ago.”

  “Right again. No way to tell.”

  Black watched as they began brushing for prints.

  Waeltz stood back and watched Black. “You want to tell me what happened last night, Love?”

  “You’re asking like you already know.”

  “I want your side of the story.”

  “Sorry, Waeltz. Fresh out of stories.”

  “Have it your way. Just remember having it your way it may not turn out pretty.”

  Black continued watching the forensics team never giving Waeltz any eye contact. “Your warning is noted.”

  “Have you always been this way, Love?”

  “How’s that, Waeltz?”

  “Stubborn.”

  “What’s that?” Black asked now facing Waeltz.

  “You’re not doing this alone. I’m here to help.”

  “It’s appreciated.”

  “It doesn’t seem like it.”

  “Are you looking for applause for doing your job?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I don’t see the problem then. What do I need to be appreciative of? You haven’t made any crucial breakthrough in this case so forgive me if I don’t break my neck trying to give you that hand job you think you need.”

  “Funny, Love. All I’m saying is—”

  Black cut him off. “Can we stick to the case at hand?”

  “Sure can, Counselor.”

  “Thank you,” Black said as he turned and made his way to the door. “Send over what you find to my office.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Black paused and turned back to face Waeltz. “Is there another exit out of here?”

  “Not that I know of… I mean… possibly.”

  “Possibly?” Black asked rubbing his hands across his bald head.

  “Follow me,” Waeltz said not waiting for a response from Black as he led the way towards the rear of the room and down the long hall that turned and curved as they came upon a dead end.

  “What’s this? A dead end?” Black asked throwing his hands in the air.

  “A possible exit,” Waeltz responded pointing up to the ceiling.

  Black looked up in the direction Waeltz was pointing to and spotted a door in the ceiling.

  “Does this lead back into the station some place?”

  “I don’t think so. You saw how far we walked along the hall down here. If I had to guess I would say we were out back some place.”

  “You’ve never used it or heard of anyone using it?”

  “Nope. Only thing comes to mind is old stories my mom used to tell me about great, great grandma being an abolitionist and helping with the Underground Railroad. She never had proof. Just sort of took her word for it. She always told me there were tunnels and hidden rooms in most of the old homes around here.”

  “Well let’s find out where it leads,” Black said as he jumped to push the door open. It didn’t budge.

  Waeltz held is hands up causing Black to pause. “Wait a minute. First we have to dust it for prints and secondly we can get a few uniforms down here with a ladder and help push it open. Obviously it’s jammed.”

  Black nodded in approval. It didn’t take long for Waeltz to return with two crime scene technicians and two uniformed officers carrying a ladder. Black impatiently waited for CSI to dust for prints then watched as the two officers and Waeltz worked together to force the door open. There was a loud thud above their heads. Waeltz was finally able to get the door to open slightly; just enough to fit his body through up to his waist. Although it was a struggle he was able to push away the desk that was blocking the door from opening. Finally he was able to shove the door open. Climbing out, he stood to the side looking around the shed as Black climbed up and out behind him. Together they surveyed the room.

  “What is this place?” Black asked, dusting the dirt off of his suit jacket and trousers.

  “Looks like it may be the old shed out back.”

  “Let me guess… the department doesn’t get out here much either right?”

  “Not really. Place should have been torn down years ago.”

  They both stepped outside. About 200 yards away they could see the back of the police station. Following the dirt path in the grass made from years and years of people trampling through the grass they wound up on a side street with a side view of the police station. As both men stood in silence caught up in their own thoughts they were startled back into the here and now as Brown, the local homeless man, appeared from out of nowhere.

  “What are you doing around here?” Waeltz spat out angrily.

  “Minding my business,” Brown said as he went on his way.

  Feeling embarrassed, Waeltz began to go after the man.

  Black placed his hand on Waeltz’s chest stopping him. “Leave him alone. Let’s stick to the matter at hand.”

  Waeltz angrily pushed Black’s hand away. He wanted to pursue the issue and put the smart mouthed bum in his place but he knew Love was right so he pushed it out of his mind.

  “What does this mean, Waeltz?”

  “Not sure yet. Let’s see what the other pieces of the puzzle look like first. But we won’t know that until we get the results CSU collected back.”

  “Speaking of pieces of the puzzle… what did you find out about our friend?”

  “I did a little digging around and finding skeletons wasn’t as hard as you might think.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Before I joined the department there was an unsolved homicide… my sources say he should have gone down for the body.”

  “Cover up?”

  “He’s dirty alright.”

  “What’s his connection to the chief other than the department?”

  “Still working on it.”

  “Keep me apprised,” B
lack responded as he walked off towards the replacement truck he was now renting.

  Waeltz didn’t respond. He just watched as Black drove off.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning Black rushed out of the building, hopped into his truck, slammed the door closed, and strapped on his seatbelt. He turned the car on, shifted into drive, and then peeled away from the curb. He’d just received a call from Waeltz saying the lab report was back. He was surprised that it had gotten done so quickly. Waeltz said they’d found something so he was meeting him at Foster’s to search for evidence. The case was finally starting to go somewhere. It was nearly a forty minute drive to reach Foster’s home. When he arrived at the address that Waeltz had given him, he parked and made his way to the door. Black felt apprehensive about the situation. There were no squad cars onsite, only Waeltz’s vehicle. The neighborhood was quiet. At mid-day most people were still at work or school, he surmised. Foster, a single woman with no children, lived in a neighborhood that appeared to be more family orientated. Foster’s car wasn’t parked in the drive-way. Black approached the front door with apprehension. It was slightly cracked. Examining closer he noticed the frame of the door was splintered as if it had been kicked in. Looking around the neighborhood before entering, he turned back to the door and gently nudged it open.

  “Waeltz, you in here?” he yelled as he slowly stepped in to find the place in a shambles. Stepping over broken picture frames and lamps he made his way to the center of the living room.

  “Back here!” Waeltz responded.

  Black made his way towards the sound of Waeltz’s voice. Stepping around a coffee table and sofa that were both flipped over then bending the corner into a hall that led to a bedroom, he found Waeltz standing over Foster’s bed peering into a shoe box. Black stood half way in the hall and half way in the room. His eyes scanned the area. It was no different from the living room. All of her things were everywhere.

  “What is this Waeltz?”

  “What’s what? It’s like I told you. The lab geeks found a trace of Teresa’s blood mixed with a soft plastic, such as flexible vinyl, and a strand of hair that just happens to be the same color as Foster’s”