The Hunt Chronicles: Volume 1

by Leo Bonanno

  “What’s that Professor?” Myron asked.

  “Stop that kid,” I said, nodding my head towards the scruffy stranger.

  “Is that him? Is that Simon?”

  “No,” I answered, still speaking quietly. “It’s the other one.”

  “What are you doing?” The kid screamed as Myron grabbed his collar and tossed him against the front of the building. “What the hell?”

  “Tommy Hall,” Myron said, peering down at the skinny twerp with a smile. “I didn’t recognize you with that black hair. Do that to piss off your old man?” The kid, Tommy, tried to make a break for it, but Myron was fast for such a big man. He slammed his huge palm into Tommy’s shoulder, slamming him back into the wall again. “Easy there, big man. We need to talk.” Myron turned to me. I had gotten out of the cruiser and was leaning against the passenger door. I straightened out and headed towards the pair of them. My reflection eyed me from the glass in the caterer’s door as I passed. I looked so much older than I used to. “Is this the one?” I looked Tommy over. His face meant nothing to me; I never really saw it. But his slouched posture and pissy attitude seemed very familiar.

  “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “What?” Tommy asked, eyes bouncing between Myron and me. “What did I do?” Myron tried to open his mouth but I jumped in before he could. In the time it took me to walk from the cruiser to the kid against the wall, I had formulated a plan.

  “You killed someone,” I blurted out flatly. “Isn’t that right?” Tommy and Myron both turned to look at me with wide eyes. When Tommy spoke again, his voice was high and trembling.

  “What?” He exclaimed. “I didn’t, I swear. I didn’t hurt anyone.” Just then, another young man, Simon, came running out of the caterers.

  “What’s going on? Tommy? What did you do?”

  “Nothing, I swear man. These old dudes are buggin’ out on me!” Simon turned to me and recognized me instantly, as I hoped he would. He never seemed to acknowledge Myron, he just stared straight at me.

  “We know he killed Arnold Medley, Simon,” I said. “Did you help him? Did you help him rob and kill the old man?”

  “No! No!” Simon screamed. “We didn’t hurt Mr. Medley! We didn’t!”

  “Come on, buddy, the game is over,” Myron piped up, finally catching on. I turned to him and smiled. Tommy saw me smile, just as I hoped he would.

  “Don’t say anything, Simon!” Tommy yelled. “It’s a trick! They’re playing us for suckers. They don’t know nothing!”

  “Oh, we know it all, Simon!” I yelled back. “What happened Simon? He tell you to kill the old man after the party? You looked scared Simon. You looked scared before you left. Did you know what was going to happen, Simon?” Simon put his hands up to his ears and shook his head.

  “No! No!”

  “How could you Simon?” I wailed. “He was good to you. He was good to you, Simon. How could you?”

  “Don’t listen, Simon! Don’t listen! They don’t know nothing!”

  “He’s dead, Simon, he’s dead! And it’s all your fault!”

  “No!” Simon shrieked, and we all fell silent. The sound that emanated from Simon was powerful, and truthful, just as I had hoped. We all shifted our gaze to Tommy, who was nodding his head. “It’s over,” Simon said, and walked back into the shop. Myron stood straight up and took a step forward, but I put up my hand. Myron froze in his tracks, still clutching Tommy Hall by the shoulder.

  Simon disappeared into the shop, and we all stood silent for a few moments. I turned to Myron. “Wait here.”

  I walked into the empty shop and slinked behind the service counter. I heard sounds of rummaging, and followed them to the back of the shop. A large walk-in freezer stood gaping with its door ajar. Simon was inside it, shifting and lifting and tossing boxes aside. He stood on his tiptoes and reached way back on one of the shelves. He pulled out something, something heavy, wrapped in a cloth napkin. He turned to me with tears in his eyes and handed the heavy gift to me. I clutched it with both hands as I maneuvered the napkin open. “I told him not to take it,” Simon said, wiping his nose. “It happened so fast.” In my hands lay a heavy golden rhino. “I told him not to take it,” he said again, and began to cry.

  I walked out of the shop with an arm around Simon. Myron had moved Tommy into the back of the police cruiser. He was leaning against the door, talking into the open rear window at the young man with his hands cuffed behind his back. He stood straight up as we neared. “What’s that?”

  “Looks like your missing murder weapon, Sheriff.” I said, handing the napkin to Myron. He unwrapped it, stared at the rhino with wide eyes, and then wrapped it up again.

  “Is he talking?” Myron asked, nodding his head towards Simon.

  “Not much,” I said. Myron stepped forward and grabbed Simon by the arm. He led him to the door, opened it and let Simon get in. I heard Tommy mutter something to Simon, but I couldn’t make it out. Simon just stared into his lap, tears streaming down his face. Myron walked back to me and stared behind me into the shop.

  “It was freezing,” he said.

  “He hid it in the freezer,” I replied.

  “How did you know they had it?”

  “I didn’t, honestly. Not for sure anyway. I finally remembered Simon and Tommy on the night of the party. Simon looked nervous, anxious, kind of like he saw something that bothered him. I watched as Tommy walked straight for the door without waiting for a tip or for his partner. His hands were in his pockets, and his shoulders were hunched. He looked like a man coming in from the snow, which didn’t seem that odd since Arnold said himself that his office was an ice box. Plus, they just finished unloading frozen desserts onto a dessert cart.”

  “But he wasn’t all hunched over for warmth, I guess,” Myron said.

  “No, he must have pocketed the rhino when he and Simon were in Medley’s office. That’s what Simon saw, and that’s what shook him up. I saw the rhino before we started eating, the first time Medley had me in his office. The second time, before we all left, only the giraffe was there.” I stopped, and then added. “The giraffe and a ring of dust.”

  “So when did they kill him?” Myron said bluntly, and I rocked back a few steps. I was expecting the question but it still landed like a blow to the gut. It just seemed so… inappropriate. One of the boys was racked with guilt twenty seconds after the crime was committed. Could they be capable of murder? I thought to myself.

  “I don’t know,” I said, “but something is-”

  “Oh you gotta be kidding me!” A booming voice bellowed from behind me. “Simon? Tommy? What the hell is going on?” Myron quickly shuffled between me and a very bulky man that was barreling towards the cruiser. He was about my height, but built like a brick outhouse. He peered around the towering Myron and into the cruiser. Simon peered out through the open window, eyes dripping. “What’s going on?”

  “Easy now, sir. Easy,” Myron said, holding up a hand.

  “Easy nothing!” The man replied. “What’s my boy doing in there?”

  “Which one’s your boy?” I asked.

  “Simon, there,” he said, pointing. “Simon Dunlowe. What’s he done?”

  “Dunlowe?” I said, surprised. “The caterering Dunlowe?” I asked, pointing a thumb to the sign.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Now what the hell is my boy doing in the back of a police car?”

  “Mr. Dunlowe,” Myron said firmly, finally getting his attention. “You’re going to want to lock up shop here and come down to the precinct. You should probably call a lawyer too.” Myron turned and signaled for me to get into the passenger seat, which I did without hesitation. Myron walked around the front of the cruiser to the driver’s side and got in. Mr. Dunlowe ran up to the open window behind mine and barked at his son.

  “What’s going on, Simon? What has he done?” He pointed to Tommy. “What did you do?” He yelled. The man’s rage was clear, and Tommy Hall must have seen it too, because he shuffled as far aw
ay from Simon’s side of the car as he could get.

  “Mr. Dunlowe!” Myron hollered, starting the cruiser and then turning around to look at him in the face. “Get yourself down to the precinct, sir. Your boy is being arrested for the murder of Arnold Medley.”

  “Are you sure, Myron?” I asked as we sat in his office. He got up and started pacing the room. “They’re just kids.”

  “Tommy Hall has been a bad seed since the day he was born. It started as little stuff; throwing firecrackers at passing cars, shoving cats in garbage cans, graffiti on the wall of the Cinemaplex. It was only a matter of time before he went out of control and now he took someone with him.”

  “But they’re both saying he only took the rhino. I can’t see either one of them having the guts to come back later to bash Medley’s skull in with it, can you?”

  “We’ll see, Professor. The rhino has a lot of carvings, a lot of detail. They couldn’t have gotten all of the blood off, not all of it. The lab has it right now. We’ll see what they have to say.”

  “But they didn’t steal anything except the rhino.” I said. “Why kill him and leave everything else in his office? This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “They’re kids, you said it yourself. Maybe the rhino was all they could grab during the party, so they came back later and surprised Medley while he was on the phone. Dolores said his phone rang. They might have walked right in on him and panicked, killed him when he recognized them and ran. Who knows?” I sat in my chair, nodding. I didn’t buy it. I couldn’t but it. Somewhere behind me, in two separate rooms, Simon Dunlowe’s father was tearing his son a new corn shoot, and Tommy Hall’s mother was crying into her hands. Lawyers for both boys were trying to calm down their respective parents, but with little success. “Face it, Reevan,” Myron said sharply, “this is it, it’s over! They might just be kids, but it’s over.” Myron was breathing heavily. His face was red and sweaty. I stood up and guided him to his chair. He sat down, and I bent over his desk to meet him face to face.

  “Relax, Myron. You’re right. It’s over. It’s all over. The worst crime ever committed in this town is over. You did alright.” I spoke softly and slowly, and the big man’s chest slowed its frantic pace. “And how dare you call me by my first name. I’m your Professor.” He laughed and went for his handkerchief once more, swiping it across his brow and then holding it over his mouth.

  “I’m sorry, Professor. I’m really sorry. It’s Mayor Ruskin, he’s been riding me for the past three days on this. He’s upset, I’m upset, this whole town is upset and scared. I never thought it would end, but now it’s done, and…and…” I stood up straight and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “And they’re just kids.”

  Myron sent me home with a deputy who flapped his gums for the entire journey. He kept asking me how I knew it was the boys, how did I know they were the ones, what clinched the collar, but I stopped trying to explain after the third time he asked.

  The deputy was kind enough to cork it when we arrived home. He helped me through another group of reporters. They were starting to look familiar now, but not too familiar, thank god. This is going to get worse before it gets better my little voice said. You solved another one, and that’s the last thing you needed.

  I got into the house and stood in front of the door. The piles of papers and files were still on my coffee table, my dog was still on the floor waiting for my arrival, and my head was still pounding with three days’ worth of loosely connected facts, lies, confusion, and conjecture. I made my way around Mount Paperwork and plopped down hard into my chair. I sat there for an hour or so wondering why everything on the planet suddenly seemed very wrong. Then I turned to my right, grabbed a stack of papers and began to read.

  As predicted, my investments in alarm clocks seemed totally worthless as my phone never failed to wake me in the morning. Awaking from under a blanket of paper, I slowly hobbled out of my recliner to the phone in the kitchen. It was Myron, and he didn’t sound pleased at all.

  “There’s news and then there’s more news,” he said.

  “Okay, start with the news.”

  “There wasn’t anything on the rhino. Not a damn thing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Not a drop of blood, not a single hair, nothing. The shape of the rhino doesn’t even match the shape bashed into the dead man’s head.”

  I said nothing for a few moments while my sleepy brain tried to process this new information.

  “What’s the other news?”

  “Simon’s fingerprints were found all over Medley’s office.” My heart sank in my chest.

  “What? That can’t be…”

  “It’s the truth. On his desk, on his door, on the walls. He even had his hands on that hideous tree painting behind his door.” Probably thought about stealing it and then realized how ugly it was I thought, and was instantly ashamed of myself.

  “Was there an explanation? Anything at all?”

  “Not yet,” Myron said. “Lawyer won’t let him or his dad say another word until he’s gone through everything with a fine-toothed comb. He’ll probably try to screw me on a bad search or evidence foul up, but he’s got nothing on my guys. This is just biding for time.” I was quiet, the thoughts and papers of the night before still swirling in my head. “What have you been up to, Professor? Still smiling for the cameras?” He faked a chuckle.

  “No, not smiling at all, Myron. I’ve been up all night going through personnel files.”

  “Let it go, Professor. I know you liked this guy, but let it go. One of them science dweebs will get promoted to head dweeb and we can all put this behind us. Ruskin won’t take too long to choose a new Curator.” My heart skipped a beat.

  “What did you say?”

  “What?”

  “Curator. Choosing a new Curator…”

  “Professor?”

  “Myron, I’ve got to go, I’ll call you later.”

  By ten a.m. I was on the road and back in town hall. The porky woman behind the counter in Human Resources recognized me immediately and rolled her eyes. I finally noticed the name plate on her desk, probably because her huge frame wasn’t blocking my view this time. “Hello again, Shirley,” I said with a phony smile. She stood up slowly with a grunt and a wheeze and reached for a pad and pen. “You won’t need those, Shirley. Today’s assignment is easy.” She rolled her eyes again and walked towards me, tucking her pen above her ear. I could hear her massive thighs rubbing together as she walked, and I could have sworn I smelt the odor of burning polyester.

  “So, what’ll it be?” She asked. I again looked around her to the cabinets of personnel files, then I looked into her eyes and smiled.

  “Dunlowe comma Simon, and Scribbs comma Ida.”

  A trip to the library after Town Hall proved semi-useful. I remember a day when the library used to be a quiet, purposeful place to visit. Nowadays, card catalogs have gone the way of the dodo bird to make way for fancy-pants computers and high-tech doodads. “Can I help you with something, sir?” A pretty young woman asked me, probably realizing that I had circled the library three times in search of a microfilm machine. “A what?” She said. I was at first offended, thinking that the young snob was making a crack about my age. I quickly saw that the confusion in her eyes was genuine.

  “I want to search through old newspaper clippings. A microfilm machine lets you do that. Do you have a machine like that?” I said, not trying to sound too condescending.

  “Oh, yes!” She said, excited that she could help the befuddled old man. “Please follow me.” She turned and headed towards a room full of computer screens.

  “Let me guess,” I said as we walked. “You have a time machine in here that will let me go back and buy the paper I’m looking for.” She turned to me and smiled. Silly old man my little voice said. She stopped at the door to the computer room and pointed to an empty chair.

  “It’s very easy. Just click on the title of the publication you’re looking for, and
when your browser comes up, type your search text into the applicable field.” I stood beside her, staring into her eyes and not moving a muscle.

  “Did I just have a stroke?” I asked. Her eyes opened wider. “I didn’t understand a damn thing you said.” She grabbed my hand and led me into the room.

  “I’m sorry, I’ll try again. Just click on the title of the publication th-”

  “Listen, young lady,” I said cutting her off. There was another man in the room with us, typing away as we walked in. I suddenly realized that I was no longer hearing the rhythmic sounds of keyboard clicks. “Fine, you can listen too,” I blurted out, and he jumped a little in his chair, and then started typing again. “I’m old compared to you, and I’m cantankerous and in a hurry. I’ve already written down what I’m looking for,” I held out a folded slip of paper I took from Shirley’s pad back at Town Hall. “Can you find anything on these people for me?” The young lady fidgeted and then gazed outside at the other patrons in the building.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but there are others who need my attent-”

  “There’s twenty-five big ones in it for you,” I said, plastering a huge smile on my face. “Come on, help an old man.” She looked out the door again, then looked at my outstretched hand. She took the slip of paper, unfolded it and nodded.

  As the young woman sat down and began to point and click away, I stood behind her, gently thumbing a quarter in my pocket.

  My mind had wondered as I stood there waiting. The humming of the computer in that hot little room had a hypnotic effect, and I found myself reminiscing back to my dream, the one I had a few days before. Charlie Billington had just turned up the walk to his house and I pressed forward in the moist spring air towards home. Six more houses, always six more houses after Charlie left. I walked on, kicking a piece of glass in the street along with me, when my eye caught something sitting in the grass nearby. Something tiny and black and very keen to a young boy’s eyes. I bent down and poked it with a finger. I felt the fur on my fingertips and took a step back. I poked it again, a little harder. It rocked back and then settled in the grass again. “Dead,” I said aloud. I grabbed the furry thing and shoved it into my pocket, alongside three bits of string, a rubber band, a nickel, a bubblegum wrapper and a blue shoelace. Today had been a good day.