A Cuban Death

by David Anderson

  “It might drive the RR further underground,” said Lori.

  “Exactly. And get the people of York even more upset.” Drumm looked thoughtful. “It’s a tough call, actually.” He smiled. “But I think I know which course of action our Staff Inspector will take.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll find out shortly. In any case, you get out of here now.”

  “And if the SIU shows up…?”

  “They can wait and talk to you tomorrow.”

  Drumm was kept waiting fifteen minutes before being admitted to Drennan’s office. He was not surprised, but it was irritating and he had to work hard to keep his annoyance from showing. He was determined that nothing the Staff Inspector did would be seen to affect him.

  “So, a total screw-up last night, Detective Sergeant? Is that a fair assessment?”

  Drumm reflected. “Yes, sir, pretty fair. Things didn’t go exactly as planned. Although…”

  “Yes?” As usual, Drennan was sitting behind his desk while Drumm had to “assume the position”, standing in front of his superior officer like a cadet on parade.

  “It wasn’t all bad, sir. Detective Singh managed to wound the suspect, and he left more DNA behind. And his knife. We might be able to trace it. Aside from that, there were no injuries.”

  “Sit down, Drumm.”

  Surprised, Drumm sat in the comfortable chair provided by the Staff Inspector for guests. “Thank you, sir.”

  “She shot off his finger, isn’t that right, Drumm?”

  “The tip, yes, sir.”

  “And you’re saying that’s a good thing? To have a police shooting of a civilian, and the SIU involved?”

  “I’m saying it could have been worse. The communications system inexplicably failed and we were lucky to get to our officer in time. Lori Singh might have been his seventh victim. As it was, she was shaken and that’s all.”

  “Shaken, and not stirred, eh, Drumm?” Drennan was looking at him, with his hands folded on his desk in that maddening fashion of his.

  “That’s an appalling thing to say. Sir.” Drumm could hardly believe the words that Drennan had just uttered. “Lori Singh is a dedicated police detective and she was nearly brutally assaulted.”

  “Lighten up, Drumm. It was a joke, that’s all. I’m glad the girl’s alright.” Drennan held up his hands. “But still, a colossal snafu. What are we going to do about it?”

  “We’re pursuing various leads, sir.”

  “I’m sure you are. But what I meant was, do you continue the operation? And do we tell the media about this latest attack?”

  “Continue with a decoy?” Drumm could hardly believe what he was hearing. “You want me to use Detective Singh again?”

  “Not her, of course not,” said Drennan impatiently. “But you could use someone else.”

  Drumm stared at him. “It would be a waste of time. He knows Lori was a police officer. She identified herself. He won’t fall for that again.”

  Drennan said, “Maybe not. Maybe not. But the guy’s a rapist, he’ll strike again.”

  “He’ll change his m.o.” Drumm said, positively.

  “We’re going to tell the media about this one, Drumm. We won’t mention that the latest victim was a cop, just that his finger was damaged. Get all the good citizens of York to be on the lookout for a man with a recently injured finger.”

  “You’ll do what you think is best.” Drumm folded his arms across his chest.

  “You don’t think we should?” Drennan’s voice was silky smooth. “You disapprove?”

  “I disapprove of being accosted in my home by Susan Benitez. I disapprove of the media being told I’m close to an arrest when I’m not. And, yes, I disapprove of releasing this to the media. You’ll just force him to lie low and make it harder to find him.”

  Drennan smiled a cold smile. “So many things you disapprove of, Detective Sergeant. What a pity you’re not in charge. Then you could do things the way you wanted. As it is, we’ll do things the way I wish.” He stood up and Drumm followed suit. “I want a press conference from you, Drumm. This afternoon. Make it good. And more than that, I want an arrest. This has been going on far too long.”

  Drumm felt like giving a mock salute but all he said was, “Yes, sir.”

  Leaving Drennan’s office, he thought that it could have been worse. Still, some progress in catching this guy would be good.

  Sitting in his Miata with the engine running, waiting for the car to warm up, Drumm considered what he was about to do. A homicide detective had a lot of latitude, which was why he could stand up to Drennan to a certain degree. Drumm had a lot of friends on the force and an excellent clearance rate; he could absorb a lot of Drennan’s crap without too much worry. However, it was another thing to disobey a direct order. So far he had not officially stepped over any line but if he proceeded with what he wanted to do, then a Rubicon would definitely have been crossed.

  Drumm put the little car into motion and headed out to see Kathy Walters.

  Kathy’s Flowers, announced the sign above the entrance, in elegant green letters. The shop was located on Main Street, a busy thoroughfare located some distance from the main business district. The building was a former residence, the lower level devoted to the store, and the upper floor converted to apartments; this kind of arrangement was common in York. In the spring he would have seen an assortment of plants outside but in this weather the sidewalk was bare.

  Drumm pushed open the door which opened to the sound of a cheery, tinkling bell. It was warm and humid inside and he inhaled the exotic scents gratefully. Drumm made his way deeper into the shop past displays of potted plants and giftware. Kathy Walters came out of a back room, cleaning her hands on a towel; she had a strained look on her face.

  “May I help you?” She stopped abruptly and then frowned. “Oh, it’s you, Detective Drumm. I certainly wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

  “Detective Sergeant,” Drumm corrected automatically. “No, I imagine you weren’t.”

  Kathy Walters moved behind the counter. “What can I do for you?”

  Drumm studied her. She was an attractive woman, despite the smudges under her eyes; her blonde hair was mostly hidden by a kerchief. There were a few wayward tendrils escaping and threatening to hide her eyes. She was dressed in jeans and a blouse underneath a smock.

  Kathy Walters blushed under his gaze. She looked directly at him. “Well? The last time I saw you, I was basically thrown out of your office. You told me you had no jurisdiction. No crime had been committed in York, you said. Has something changed?”

  Drumm cleared his throat. “No, nothing has changed. Except, maybe, I thought about what you said, and I agreed with some of it.” And I want to poke a stick at Drennan. “About your fiancé falling off a balcony, I mean,” he said aloud. “You’re right: people don’t usually do that, drunk or no. But he was very drunk.” He explained about Kennedy’s elevated blood alcohol level.

  “How do you know that?” she asked sharply.

  Drumm leaned forward, put his hands onto the counter and said quietly, “I checked with the Cuban detective. I spoke to him on the phone. And I would thank you not to tell anyone that. It might get me in trouble.”

  Kathy Walters just stared at him.

  Drumm told her about Mike Kennedy’s day, as far as the Cubans had been able to reconstruct it, about the altercation at the disco and his forcible ejection from the place, the involvement of the three Cuban men.

  Kathy winced when she heard the part about the women in the disco. “Did you find out anything else?”

  Drumm nodded. “You and your friends were allowed to leave the country because the Cuban police think your fiancé either fell off accidentally or he was maybe helped over by these Cuban men from the disco. They have ruled out suicide.”

  Kathy started to cry. “Poor Mike. They think he was killed?”

  “It’s possible, yes. They don’t know for sure. They’ll probably never know.”

  “Why don�
��t they arrest those Cuban men then?”

  Drumm said, “You need to understand that the police need evidence. Your fiancé might have been thrown over, he might not. These Cuban guys say they never saw him again after they put him out of the disco. The cops haven’t given up but it’s been ruled an accidental death for the moment. They can’t place them at the scene – your room, that is.”

  Kathy said again, “Poor Mike. I knew there was something…”

  “Ms. Walters, I want to ask you about that day he died. You two had an argument, I understand. So your fiancé spent most of the evening and night by himself, drinking. And he ended up in the disco. What was the argument about?”

  Kathy Walters’ eyes started welling with tears. “I’m sorry. You must think me a complete ditz. It’s just that this brings it all back, and I blame myself.” She straightened up. “The argument was about his drinking. I told him off. And he said some really mean things to me. He’d been really putting it away.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “Why? Because it was there, I guess. You know, it was all-inclusive, all your food and drinks free. Free!” she snorted. “Of course, we’d already paid for it, but you know what I mean. Mike had the mentality that he was going to get his money’s worth. He had one of those keg mugs. Well, he did until I took it from him.”

  Drumm asked, “What’s a keg mug?”

  Kathy Walters looked at him. “Really? I thought everybody knew about them. His was a Bubba Keg Mug. He got it at the hardware store. The stupid thing held something like fifty-two ounces. It was insulated to keep the drinks cold. It was the size of a small barrel!”

  Drumm tried to picture a mug the size of a barrel, filled with booze. “So he would go to the bar and get this keg mug filled with beer, is that right?”

  Kathy nodded. “Or sometimes he had rum and coke in it. But one day – it might have been Tuesday - when he’d really had a lot and I knew he wouldn’t notice, I took it and left it out by the pool. I knew he wouldn’t remember what he’d done with it.” She smiled. “Somebody took it. I hope it was a Cuban – he’d make better use of it.”

  The bell announced the opening of the front door and an older man came in. Drumm pretended to browse the store as Kathy Walters served her customer, who left with a dozen carnations.

  “Big spender,” said Kathy, with a rueful smile. “But every little bit helps.”

  Drumm returned to the counter. “It must be hard to make a living in retail.” He looked around the store and resolved to pick something up before he left. “I understand you were engaged to be married to Mike Kennedy. Did you have a date?”

  “June 29. At Casa Positano.” Kathy looked upset. “I haven’t canceled anything yet. I know I have to but I just can’t bring myself to do it. It would mean that he’s really dead. And I can’t help thinking he’s going to walk through that door sometime.” She looked at him and smiled ruefully. “It’s stupid, I know.”

  Drumm, who had heard this same wistful sentiment before, said, “It’s a common reaction, Ms. Walters. So, you had a fight. What happened after?”

  “I stormed off. I was very upset. I told him I’d stay with Char and Sean that night, that I didn’t want to be with him when he drank so much.”

  “Did he get violent when he was drunk?”

  “Mike? No, no, not at all. But he wasn’t any fun to be with. He would get loud and sloppy and he would kind of forget about me. He would make a spectacle of himself and I’d get embarrassed. Disgusted, actually.”

  “So you stayed the night with Sean and Charlotte Gill. They didn’t mind?”

  Kathy smiled sadly. “They probably did. But I did it anyway, to try to teach Mike a lesson.” She blew her nose. “They had a two bedroom unit – it was all they could get – so I stayed in the second bedroom.”

  Drumm thought. “So, the last time you saw your fiancé alive was…when?”

  Kathy sniffed. “About four, I think. I didn’t see him at dinner; I don’t know where he ate.”

  “Did your friends see him? After the argument, I mean.”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “How did they get along with him? Did his drinking bother them?”

  Kathy stared at him. “God, no. We were all friends. And Mike and Sean worked together. They were used to each other. If Mike’s drinking bothered any of them, it’s news to me. And he didn’t behave that way at home.”

  Drumm said, “I see. You say he behaved differently at home than he did when he was on vacation. Was there anything bothering him? Was he, maybe – forgive me – getting cold feet about the wedding?”

  Kathy shook her head. “No, absolutely not. It was his idea in the first place.” She stopped and her gaze drifted off; she was clearly reflecting. “But now that you ask, he did seem a little distracted about something. Before we went, I mean. And I did wonder…”

  “Yes?” said Drumm encouragingly.

  “No, it’s nothing.” Kathy shook her head again, decisively.

  “Alright.” Drumm paused. “How do you mean, distracted?”

  “He was just a little off, a bit quiet in the evenings. I put it down to his working so much. He put in a lot of long days.”

  “You two lived together?”

  “No. He had his own place. I live by myself.”

  Drumm asked, “Was there anything else you can think of that was bothering him? Any reason at all for him to act the way he did?”

  “I told you…” She stopped. “Well, maybe… he and Aaron…”

  The bell tinkled again and a young man entered the shop.

  “Yes?” said Drumm. “What about him and Aaron?”

  “No, it was nothing. Forget I said that,” she said. Kathy looked at the new customer; she clearly wanted to go and serve him.

  “Alright then.” Drumm picked up a bouquet of mixed flowers from a stand beside the counter and put them on the counter. “I’ll take these and get out of your hair,” he said.

  “Certainly,” she said. Kathy wrapped the flowers for him. “What are you going to do?”

  Drumm took his credit card back and picked up his purchase. “I’m going to take these flowers and give them to a friend. They’ll be alright in the cold, won’t they?”

  Kathy said, “They’ll be fine for the trip home. But get them inside as soon as possible. But I didn’t mean…”

  “I know what you meant. I’m going to see your friend, Charlotte Gill.” He looked at his watch. “She’ll likely be at work, won’t she?”

  Kathy nodded. “At Southdown Mall. Flights of Fancy. It’s on the second level.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be in touch.”

  twenty-three

  Stretched out in a tub filled with hot water and mounds of lavender-scented bubbles, Lori allowed herself to sink down and relax. The heat felt wonderful on her tired and aching body. Lori sighed deeply and closed her eyes.

  Unbidden and unwanted, an image of the Riverwood Rapist floated into her mind and she was back in that cold parking lot, on her hands and knees… Her eyes opened abruptly and she shivered, despite the heat of the water. She forced herself to think of other things but images of dirty buses, ski masks and a knife kept swimming into view.

  Lori gave in and sat up, the hot water and bubbles streaming down her body. She hugged her knees to her chest. She had to deal with this, had to think it through, or she would get no peace. It was normal, she knew, for police officers who fired their weapons and hit people to need counselling. It could be a traumatic thing to realize that your actions had led to the death or injury of another human being. But that wasn’t what was bothering her, she realized. She wasn’t upset at all that she had shot the Riverwood Rapist. If anything, she was only sorry that she hadn’t hit him in a more vulnerable place or even killed him. Then at least no more women would be attacked.

  No, it wasn’t that. It was the humiliation of being used like an animal that was affecting her. She couldn’t get that image out of her mind: on her knees, pa
nts down and sweater up, helpless. Only, she hadn’t been helpless, she had been a tigress with hidden claws. Lori laughed out loud. Where had that phrase come from? A tigress? An Indian tigress? She laughed again. Certainly she had surprised her attacker and given him something to think about.

  Lori frowned. She should never have been put in that position in the first place. Yes she had volunteered to be a decoy and it was just bad luck that communications had failed. It wasn’t Drumm’s fault, it wasn’t. But still… she had been left to fend for herself in a highly dangerous situation and that should never have happened. She realized that this was the second thing that was affecting her, this feeling of being left high and dry by her colleagues. She was going to have to work hard to overcome it.

  She thought she could do it. Maybe.

  Lori sank back into the tub, held her breath and put her face under the water. Count to thirty and it will all go away.

  She sat up, gasping for breath; it hadn’t worked.

  Drumm decided to head straight to the mall. Unsurprisingly, Flights of Fancy turned out to be a women’s apparel shop, the kind of store that Emily would have frequented. Drumm suddenly realized that he hadn’t thought about his former partner for days. It was strange but he didn’t miss her at all. He had well and truly moved on.

  Charlotte Gill was at the back talking to the only customer in the store; another employee was smiling at him. As he stopped and waited, she approached him. “Hello! Need any help?”

  Drumm showed her his badge. “YPS. I need to have a little chat with your colleague there.” A worried look came onto the young woman’s face. “It’s just routine, nothing to be concerned about,” he reassured her.

  The young woman left him and exchanged a few words with Charlotte Gill. The latter looked at him, nodded, and then left her customer and came over to him. “Detective Drumm. How nice to see you. Kathy told me you were coming over.”