HIGHWAY HOMICIDE

by Bill WENHAM

  He stopped speaking and looked hard at Carl, “So, what do you say, Carl, shall we pop her in the ambulance, and get the hell out of here before we freeze our little you know whatties off, okay?”

  Carl nodded. Roly was right. It was pointless trying to save the scene as the snow got steadily deeper all around them. They would just have to see what else turned up.

  “Joe and I will set up stakes and tape, Carl, but in this wind, I doubt whether there’ll be very much of it will be left by the time this little lot is over.”

  “You’re right. Let’s just get her out of here, set up the tape if you can and I’ll come by again in the morning if it’s eased up. I’ll be in touch.”

  Doc Bondar, the medical examiner, got out of the ambulance and knelt in the snow beside the body. After a moment he looked up at Carl and Roly and shook his head. Pulling on a pair of surgical gloves, he carefully brushed the accumulated snow away from the victim’s head and examined the massive wounds. When he was finished he stood up and walked over to the two policemen who’d been joined by the paramedics.

  “May as well take her back, guys,” he said. The paramedics had already pulled a stretcher from the ambulance and now set it down beside the body. They waited a moment as Joe took more photos of the exposed head wounds, then placed a black body bag on the stretcher and unzipped it. As Joe moved out of the way, they lifted the body, placed it in the bag and zipped it up again. Then they lifted the stretcher with its frozen load back into the ambulance.

  “Have you managed to get anything at all, Carl?” Roly asked him.

  “Yeah, maybe, buddy. Lisa down at the diner reported her car stolen tonight. It may be unconnected, but she says a guy walked right on in off the highway, took the keys out of her parka pocket and drove off with her old Honda.”

  “She okay? Guy didn’t hurt her, did he?” Roly and Joe had known Lisa and also Almost for years as well.

  “No, nothing like that. From what I hear, I think she was just mightily pissed he didn’t make a pass at her. But that’s just hearsay at the moment. I’m heading over there from here and I’ll call you if anything develops. If he’s the perp, we’ve got one thing going for us and that is, he’s not going to get very far in this lot either, is he? But if you find out anything, call us too will you?”

  “Sure thing, Carl,” he said as he and Joe got thankfully back into their van. Then, with both of their sirens screaming, the van and the ambulance pulled back on to the highway towards Burlington.

  As he watched them go he thought, with a grin, in this weather, they were making a lot more noise than they were making progress. He got back into the relative warmth of his cruiser, put it in gear and followed them down the highway towards Lisa’s diner. At least he’d be able to warm himself up there with a good hot cup of coffee.

  Chapter Three

  In the blizzard, the man driving the Honda could hardly see at all. The heavy, wet snow was almost completely blocking the small car’s wipers. He put the passenger’s side window down to try to see the edge of the highway’s shoulder. As the window went down most of the accumulated snow dropped away from it. The man took a glance out and quickly put the window back up again, since the outside air had chilled the car down instantly.

  In the brief instant the window had been down, he’d glimpsed what looked like an old and dilapidated looking house, set well back from the road. It had been barely visible in the driving snow. He was chilled to the bone now and getting desperate as he slowly drove a couple of hundred yards more down the highway. And then he put the window down again.

  Looking out once more he saw a break in the snow laden pine trees lining the highway just ahead on the right. He assumed there would be a field of some sort beyond the trees. Not wanting to get stuck, he pulled the steering wheel sharply to the right and gunned the motor.

  After spinning its wheels for a moment, the Honda’s tires grabbed the road and the little car shot forward. Although the man hadn’t seen it, the car cleared a shallow ditch and slithered into the field beyond. Not wanting to lose the momentum he’d gained, the driver pulled the steering wheel hard over again, this time to the left.

  The car slid to a stop behind the pine trees lining the highway. Gasping with cold and feeling the adrenaline surging through him, the man climbed awkwardly out of the passenger’s side, since the driver’s door was now pushed hard up against the tree branches.

  He walked back behind the car and picked the end of a pine branch up out of the snow. The car had snapped the branch off as it had slid behind the trees. And then, shivering violently in the raging blizzard and carrying the tree branch, he made his way through the gap in the trees and back out to the highway. The snow was falling as heavily as ever as he as he walked backwards into the field again. He obliterated both the tire tracks and his own footprints with the pine branch as he went.

  When he got back to the Honda, he could see the night and the heavily falling snow was well on its way to hiding it from view from the road. By the following morning it probably wouldn’t be seen at all.

  Now the man was faced with a choice. He could spend the night in the shelter of the Honda, which by now was rapidly filling up with snow. In his hurry to brush out his tracks, he’d neglected to put the window back up.

  His second choice was to walk across the field to the old house he’d seen a couple of hundred yards back. He hadn’t seen any lights on inside it in his very brief view of it from the highway. He knew many people from the North went south for the winter. Hopefully this was one of them.

  He realized immediately his decision was a no brainer, as he set out across the field. If he stayed in the car, as wet as he was, he’d probably be frozen solid by morning. For a while he walked backwards as he’d done from the highway, brushing out his footprints as he went.

  After about a hundred yards, he threw the branch away as far as he could and turned around. Although he felt he must be close, he couldn’t see the house at all through the blowing snow but he could still faintly discern the line of pines trees at the highway.

  From them he could tell he was going the right way. Also, he knew he was dangerously wet and cold by now. He’d been wet and cold when he had arrived at the diner, but he was now both wetter and colder, if that was even possible. His hands were absolutely numb with the cold from brushing out his tracks with the tree branch.

  Everything he was wearing was soaking wet and he could no longer feel his feet at all. If he didn’t reach the shelter of the house soon, he’d be in big trouble, he thought. Even more trouble than he was in already.

  Finally a tall cedar hedge, bowed over by the weight of the snow on it, loomed up ahead of him. He spotted a break between two of the bushes and just to add to his misery, he received a dowsing of wet snow down his neck as he pushed his way through them.

  Ahead of him now was a large vegetable garden with the snow covered remains of a summer crop. Maybe it was this past year’s or maybe years old. He couldn’t tell and it didn’t matter anyway.

  He could now see the outline of the house through the falling snow. Suddenly he was startled by a shape he spotted just in front of him, until he realized it was just a very large concrete birdbath. With its six inch icing of fresh snow, it looked just like a gigantic mushroom.

  The freezing cold man finally reached the house and made his painful way along the wall of the house to the back door. It was solid and securely locked, but it also appeared to him the house was unoccupied, perhaps even deserted. There were still no lights visible from inside the house that he could see.

  Now shivering so badly he could hardly stand, the man struggled further along the wall of the house until he found the cover of a basement root cellar. It was closed and securely fastened with a rusty padlock. In frustration he looked around for something to force it open with. A moment later he saw the metal portion of an old garden fork with its wooden handle missing, sticking up out of the snow in the vegetable patch.

  He grabbed at it
and pulled, tearing skin from his hands on the frozen metal in the process. In desperation now, he kicked at it over and over until it came loose, dragging a frozen clod of soil along with it. Regardless of his bloodied hands, the man grabbed the fork and slammed it against the padlock. The lock still held but the clod of earth fell off from the tines. Crouching down, he put two of the tines under hasp the lock was holding closed and pulled upwards as hard as he could.

  The screws holding the hasp to the lid’s wooden frame gave way with a loud squealing sound. The man’s knees buckled momentarily with relief and exhaustion as he dropped the fork back into the snow. He struggled to lift the snow covered cellar lid and pushed it back against the side of the house.

  As the lid opened the cellar was momentarily faintly lit by that glow that seems to emanate from freshly fallen snow. By its light he could dimly see several steps leading down. He reached up and grasped the inside handle of the lid, pulling it closed after him as he carefully descended the steps.

  Once the lid was closed the man knew he’d be completely in the dark and at the mercy of whatever pitfalls the cellar may have in store for him. But at least he was inside now, out of the blizzard. Even though he was shivering uncontrollably, for the moment at least he appeared to be safe.

  At the bottom of the steps, he stood for a few moments with his eyes closed. He was hoping that when he opened them again, his eyes would have accustomed themselves to the dark of the cellar.

  As he slowly opened them again he found he’d been right. The cellar had two small windows, letting in just enough of the slightly pinkish-orange tinged light from the snow for him to make out another set of steps leading upwards into the house.

  He made his way carefully over and around various pieces of disused house and garden equipment littered about on the floor. The odor in the old house was appalling. He mounted the stairs as silently as he could until he came to a wooden door at the top.

  Praying it wouldn’t be locked, he turned the handle. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when it opened quietly and easily. The shivering man stepped forward into the house, closing the door carefully behind him.

  The inside of the house was as freezing cold as the weather had been outside. In the dark, he felt his way around the room that he was in. It was quite obviously a country kitchen. The counter top was thick with grease and filth and also appeared to be littered with dirty dishes and cooking utensils as well. An awfully foul odor pervaded the whole of this level of the house as well.

  At this point he was pretty sure the place was both empty and deserted, but he needed to be certain. He stepped very carefully as he went through into the parlor and felt his way around the walls, looking for the windows. Once he’d located them, he pulled back some old drapes that were hanging there. In the dim illumination from the snow outside, he could just make out the bulk of an old chesterfield and a couple of armchairs in the room.

  The violently shivering man made his way over to the stairs leading to the upper floor. Then he stopped, returned to the window and ripped both of the drapes down from their tracks. He quickly removed his denim jacket, shirt and jeans and wrapped himself in one of the drapes. Next, he pulled his belt out from his jeans and tightened it around his waist, securing the drape around himself like a Roman toga.

  He removed his soaking wet boots and socks, tore a chunk of the other drape and used it to dry his feet. He rubbed them hard to try to remove the numbness from them. Soon the pain became excruciating as the warmth and feeling slowly returned to them. To cover his feet up until his socks and boots were dry; he tore more of the drape into strips and bound his feet and ankles with them. Finally, he also tore a few thinner strips to secure the bindings in place. He was still extremely cold but, he was now dry and no longer shivering as badly as he had been a few minutes earlier.

  He hoped there was no broken glass on the floor as he made his way over to the stairs and climbed up to the second level. At the top he could make out just two doors on the dark landing, presumably they were bedrooms. He couldn’t see any other doors in the dark hallway and assumed any toilet facilities would be by way of an outhouse in the garden somewhere.

  He carefully opened the door closest to him and peered inside. In this room, what was left of the draperies was hanging in wind blown tatters from their rods. They had deteriorated more because one of the windows had been left wide open. The driving snow had blown in, covering half the floor and had drifted up the far wall.

  The room contained an old tallboy dresser, a small night stand, and a brass bedstead, complete with mattress, pillows, sheets, blankets and a quilt. Almost everything in the room had been ravaged by mice or other rodents. Judging by some of the frozen droppings he’d trodden on, raccoons had also invaded the house at some point.

  The man backed out of the room and went further down the landing to the second one. It too was unlocked, but unlike the first one, this door was warped and he couldn’t open it. He put his shoulder to it and pushed. The door sprang open and he fell forward inside the room. Something hard dug into his chest as he hit the floor. As he got painfully to his knees, he pulled what appeared in the dim light to be a heavy metal rod out from under him. Using it as a support, he pushed himself to his feet and stood up.

  The windows to this room were closed and the draperies had been drawn back. Once again the glimmer of light from the snow outside allowed him to faintly see what was in the old bed in front of him.

  Propped up on what remained of a pillow was the skull and skeletal upper torso of a human being. Whether the skeleton had been male or female, it was impossible for him to tell. Somehow, somewhere, rodents had gained access to this room as well.

  As he glanced back down to see what it was he’d picked up, he realized it was the barrel of a hunting rifle he held in his hand. The man stood for a moment in total shock.

  “Holy shit!” he said out loud as an overwhelming sense of déjà vu flooded over him.

  Chapter Four

  Carl slewed his cruiser to a stop outside the ‘Olde Tyme’ diner in a spray of slush. Almost’s cruiser was parked alongside and received the brunt of it.

  Carl turned off his lights, got out, trudged over to the door of the diner and shouldered his way inside. He stamped his boots free of snow on the mat inside.

  “Hi, Carl,” Lisa called out from behind the counter, “Found my Honda yet?”

  “Christ, Lisa, I only just found out someone had swiped it. Give me a break! And better yet, give me a coffee will you, I’m frozen!”

  “Okay, Carl, but no Honda, no coffee. How does that sound to you, frozen or not?” Lisa said cheekily.

  “Sounds like you’re pretty pissed off,” Carl shot back at her.

  “So’s the guy who stole her car, I’ll bet,” Almost chimed in. “He must be a stranger ‘cos you couldn’t even get anyone from around here to drive that old wreck to the scrap yard. Not even if you paid them.”

  “We don’t have a scrap yard around here, Almost.” Lisa corrected him.

  “That’s right, Lisa honey, the closest one is in Newport and your old heap wouldn’t make it for even half that distance.”

  “Maybe we should have the goddamned thing checked out for roadworthiness then, if we ever find it again,” Carl added meaningfully.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Lisa cried.

  “Try me,” Carl said, “So, Lisa, how about that coffee?”

  “That’s blackmail, Carl Berger, and you know it,” Lisa retorted.

  “You just have to do what you have to do,” Carl said with a grin, parking himself on a stool at the counter as Lisa reluctantly handed him a mug of coffee.

  “Anyway,” Almost said, “If the perp’s in Lisa’s Honda, at least we know he won’t be far away, don’t we?”

  “You’ve got that right, but okay, Lisa, seriously now, have you given Almost a good description of this guy?”

  “Well, Carl, if you can call ‘he had the cutest blue eyes’ a good description, then I gue
ss she did,” Almost said, grinning.

  “Well, he did,” Lisa snapped back at him.

  “Oh, ho, is it a budding romance with a wanted felon we have going here then, Lisa,” Carl said, raising his eyebrows.

  “You guys are impossible,” Lisa said, “A regular pair of ‘Keystone Kops’, you two are. You should both be arrested for impersonating real police officers. Anyway, why are you both in here drinking my coffee when that guy is off somewhere in my Honda?” Lisa complained.

  “Not very far off, though, Lisa,” Almost said. “Remember it’s your old Honda heap he’s trying to drive.”

  “Okay, enough, “Carl said finally. “There’s been a murder out there tonight, so let’s just quit with the cute chit chat? Did Lisa give you a good description of the man who stole her car or not, Deputy Neerly?” Carl asked him.

  “Yes, Sheriff Berger. A very good description, sir. So good in fact that I’m sure I’ll know him just as soon as I see him. She must have really looked him over,” Almost said, straight faced as Lisa glared at him.

  At that moment, Carl’s cell phone twittered.

  “Berger,” he said, and listened for a few moments. “Thanks, Roly, appreciate it. I’ll be in touch in the morning.”

  He flipped the cell phone closed and clipped it back on to his belt.

  “That was Roly calling from the morgue. They’ve ID’d the victim already. Her name is, or was, Maria Caspar. She lived in Rutland and was twenty six, according to her driver’s license.”

  Almost raised his eyebrows.

  “How’d they get her license,” he asked. “Did you see a handbag out there at the scene?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Carl said, “And neither did Roly. They found a ladies wallet in the pocket of the parka she was wearing when they were preparing her for the autopsy. It had credit cards and about three hundred bucks in cash in it, so the murder obviously wasn’t a robbery gone bad,” Carl said. “Leastways, it doesn’t look like it.”