Brody

by Kathi S. Barton

  Oh, you think that you’re having a rough time now? No, you’re as good as cooked when you go to prison. Tell them it all, Fredrick Simmons. Tell them about how you are pained by the slightest bit of excitement. How it hurts you to even watch a porn movie, and that your mother had you done this way because you were forever whacking off in her underwear, her dirty underwear. That’s what she called you, didn’t she, Fredrick? Dirty boy Freddy.

  “No, you fool. Stop it. I killed my mother because she took me to that place, and they cut into my dick so that she could see if it was defective. And they ruined me.” He looked at the judge again. “Make him stop. Please. Those things, he’s telling stories that are mine, not his.”

  “I’m sorry, but I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about. And I’m going to find you in contempt if you do not cooperate and answer the questions, Mr. Simmons. When you said that you had no need for an attorney for this hearing, that did not allow you to not answer questions put to you just because you find them something that you don’t want to tell him. Now, answer the questions.” He tried to think what the questions might have been. “Sir, you’re trying my patience right now.”

  Answer him, Fredrick the dirty, and tell him what I know. He told the voice to shut up. But I cannot. I’m trying to get you to tell him where your stash is. Or do I have to make sure that he shows you what he’s been able to dig up? I can do that. Is that what I can do—?

  “I do not want you to tell anyone where my stash of trinkets is. Those are mine, not yours, and I’ll have you know that you’re to stay away from them.” Someone asked him where they were. “You know. You told me. They’re under my mother’s headstone. All marked and ready for me to get when I get out of here.”

  He could no longer tell the voice in his head from the ones in the room. Every time he was asked a question or told something, Fred would tell it whatever it wanted to know. He had a feeling that if he did that, it would leave him alone. But by the time the judge called lunch, he was exhausted from having question after question tossed at him. Every little thing seemed to be something else that he’d forgotten about.

  He’d killed a cat when he was a child. The neighbor had one; he was not allowed to because of the allergies that his mother had. She was forever making his life hell. So Fred had taken the cat and hidden it away. Putting it under a bucket with a brick on the top was the only place that he could find when the cat came into his yard. Then, after several days, he realized that he’d forgotten about it. By then it was stiff as a board, and had small white worms crawling all over it.

  Then there was the time that he’d gotten in the school bus yard and had sugared all the gas tanks. His mother had been so angry at him for that. School had been canceled for a month, and he’d been stuck at home with her. Other things too, little and large times he’d let his meanness, as his mother called it, free.

  When he was taken to the van to eat with the chains on, he didn’t have the energy. His body felt beaten, his groin like he’d been fiddling with himself again. When he tried to eat, all he could manage was a few bites before he laid down and closed his eyes. Fred didn’t want to go back, but he knew that he had to get a handle on himself.

  Then there was what he’d told the voice, or the room. He wasn’t sure if when the voice was talking to him if anyone could hear him answering or not, but he was sure that it was just held between the two of them.

  After a time, about ten minutes, he thought that he was better. The tiny rest on the floor had made him feel like he could take it again. Fred was escorted into the room and chained to the floor. The attorney for the women was smiling at him, like he knew something that Fred didn’t. Doubtful, he thought. Fred knew a great deal more than most people did.

  More composed, he sat very still and decided that he’d watch the attorney’s mouth. If it didn’t move, he wasn’t going to answer him. That, to Fred, was about the best plan that he’d come up with in a while. So as soon as everyone was set, the attorney asked him if he needed anything.

  “No. No, I’m fine now. I’ve had a little rest and I’m ready to begin anew.” The attorney nodded and turned his back. The question threw Fred off his good mood when he didn’t have any idea if the attorney or the mystery voice had said it. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

  The man turned. He knew his name, but it would continue to slip from him. Like his words from his mouth. A voice said that his name was Cameron. Cam Henderson. Fred decided to keep his mouth shut and only answer questions that wouldn’t be incriminating.

  Not having any idea what he’d said so far, he figured that if he’d not been taken away, it had all been in his head. Fred was beginning to feel much better. But when Cam turned back to him, his hand holding onto Fred’s stash, whatever was said to him then, Fred figured it wasn’t going to help him at all.

  ~*~

  Brody was having a wonderful time at the trial. He’d been called away once to his last patient at his offices, and had returned in time to hear what Fred had to say about the stash and why he had been mutilated at the clinic Fred had been taken to as a boy. Fred had even offered to show it to them, but no one said yes. Thankfully. Looking at the photos had been too much.

  Brody had started his new job as police medical examiner today. There had been a lot of forms he’d had to fill out, nothing out of the ordinary; not for taking on the position that he was going to be doing.

  The pay was less than he’d been making as a doctor, but that didn’t bother him. When they needed him, Brody could still help out. And he could see a patient or two in his new place at the house. Not many, but he could should he want.

  There was also a dress code, and that basically meant that he was armed and would wear a vest out in the field. He wasn’t sure how he felt about carrying a gun, but he had one now. The theory of that was, if the killer was still out there, he could defend himself should it become necessary.

  Brody was going to do the job of the coroner now as well. He’d been doing that anyway in the small towns that he’d been practicing in.

  When the courtroom was called to order, he was curious about what was going to come up next. It surely had an entertainment value that he’d not expected.

  Now they got to the good part of this man’s crimes. Cam had been teasing Fred all morning by talking to him through a link, and then bombarding him with questions after he was so flustered that Fred was confused. He’d answered them all, and even told a few things that they’d not been expecting. Like the death of the cat. That had not only been something he’d not wanted to hear, but it was sort of sickening to think what that poor cat had suffered at his hands.

  “Mr. Simmons, earlier you told us about a stash that you had. It took this courtroom several minutes to try and figure out what it was, but then you told us that you’d been collecting pubic hairs of your victims. Why is that?” Fred said nothing. “There were about fifty or so of them in the bag that had been sealed. And each one of the smaller bags, the ones with the actual hairs in them, have been dated and the woman’s name they had come from put on them. Did you know that these names are the names of all the victims that have been in this room today? As a matter of fact, there are about a dozen of them that are on the list of missing persons. Did you kill them in the barn there?”

  “I have nothing to say.” Cam was on a roll, and Brody thought he was having a better time than he’d thought he might. Cam told Fred that he’d told them already, but just wanted him to be clearer on it. “I have nothing to say.”

  “It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think? I mean, not only did you tell us where to find your things you took from the bodies, but you also told us that you used the machinery out there to cut the bodies up to a more manageable size to put into the kiln.” Cam waited a few seconds. “All right, if you don’t wish to talk about that, then we’ll talk about other things that you spoke of. You killed the doctor, the surgeon tha
t did the operation that made you what you are today. And then there was the death of your mother. You said that you killed her by cutting her up with a chainsaw after escaping from the clinic that she sent you to. You told me and the courtroom that you’d enjoyed the sounds of her screams until she was dead. The doctor’s body was found, but your mother’s hasn’t been. Can you tell us where you buried her?”

  “I didn’t bury her.” Brody thought that he was going to say more, but all he did was look at Cam. “I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about anyway.”

  “Don’t you, Mr. Simmons? Well, I hope that I can jog your memory when it comes to a couple of the women that you mentioned. You said that they touched you. I was wondering if you could elaborate on that a bit more. Touched you sexually?”

  “No one touches me sexually, you moron. Didn’t you see the pictures of what my mother had done to me?” Cam said he had. “Then you’d know for a fact that no one would look at me, much less touch me. They couldn’t touch me because I wasn’t leaving any part of me behind. If I had anything to do with this mess you’re talking about.”

  “That makes sense, I guess.” Cam picked up another picture. “And is this the barn that you brought these women to when they dared to touch you? You did tell us about that, as I said earlier.” Again, nothing from Fred. “You’re making this very difficult, Mr. Simmons. Earlier you seemed to want to tell all, but now you’re not saying a word.”

  “Yes, well, I haven’t any idea what you might be talking about.”

  Cam nodded again, and Brody looked down at his phone when it vibrated.

  Don’t look at the door when it opens, but just watch Fred’s face.

  Jake, the presiding judge, had messaged that to him, and he looked at Fred. When the door opened, slamming hard against the walls, Brody was glad that he was looking directly at Fred or he might have missed it.

  He paled to nearly a complete wash out. Fred stood, then sat three times before he whimpered. And when he looked at Jake then back at the door again, Brody had to wonder what or who was there. Then Cam said something about wind and doors, and walked back towards the door.

  “No.” Fred whimpered louder now, his entire body stiff with fear. Brody continued to watch him until the person that had come in was standing right in front of Fred. His face was still pale, but it was also tight with fear. “No. Go away. I don’t want you here.”

  It’s his mother. She’s come to haunt him for what he’s done. I don’t know how Wally managed it, but he found her and helped her come to see her son. Also, the dead women are lined up to see him next.

  Cam winked at him as he shut both of the doors and made his way to the front again. The room was not seeing the ghost, just them and Fred. And when Ms. Simmons started to slip and slide over herself, the small pieces of her having a difficult time holding their shape, Fred screamed that this couldn’t be happening, and begged for someone to make her go away.

  “Her?” Cam walked around, looking around like he didn’t see Ms. Simmons. “Who is here, Fred? I don’t see anyone. Are you sure that you’re—?”

  “It’s my mother. She’s standing right in front of me. Can’t you see her? She’s all in pieces, just like I cut her up to be.” Then when another ghost, Brody didn’t know their names, started to file into the room, Fred tried to get away, his body straining against the chains that held him there. “They’re here. All of them are here. They’re going to kill me.”

  “Who?” Cam nearly laughed when he asked this time, but he regained control just in time, Brody thought. “You’ll have to be more specific Fred. I don’t see anyone here.”

  Not only did he tell that he’d killed the women that were in the room with all of them, but how he’d done it. There were dates too that Fred started to spew forward, dates that Brody would bet corresponded with some of the dates on the little hairs.

  Fred didn’t stop talking even when asked to. He told of women that he’d popped in the mouth for getting smart with him. How he didn’t get up for anyone if he rode public transit. He’d been late on a library book, but instead of paying the fine, he’d just slipped it back in the place and put it on the shelf. Small and large, Fred told them everything that they needed, and shit that they didn’t. He was being dragged away, still confessing to everything from petty theft to grand larceny.

  The courtroom was quiet after that. No one moved or said a word. There were people that had been taking notes on what was being said, and a couple of the bailiffs had to have a seat when they returned. It was by far the oddest and most informative trial Brody had been to. Then Jake spoke.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m not sure what to say.” There was some small laughter. “As you know, everything said here today should not be repeated. Nor are you to go to the newspapers with this until such time as we can...I have no idea. Figure this out. We’ll be solving cases for years, I think.”

  Another small laughter and Jake called it a day. People began filing out and Brody sat there, listening to what people had to say as they left the big room. Most of them were happy that families would get closure. Some were blown away that Fred had only done the things they’d heard. A lot of the people had always known, they said, that Fred was a terrible man.

  When the doors closed behind them, they were locked. Cam gathered up his things and Brody just sat there. He and Emmi were the only two in the pews toward the back of the room, and he saw Cattie and Tyson in the front, coming from where Fred had been taken. They were talking quietly, but he could hear them well enough.

  Fred was being taken to the hospital. He was going to be evaluated again, and then they’d decide where to go from there. The Feds could now clean up the mess they’d found out at the farm, what they were calling where the cars and such were. A lot of people would now know where their family member was, and that had been what Emmi had wanted all along.

  Jake came to sit with him and Emmi. He looked like he’d been hung out to dry in the rain too, and said he felt that way when Emmi pointed it out. Tomorrow was going to be another long day, but for now, they were finished with what was happening.

  “I have a favor to ask of you.” Brody told Jake that he’d do just about anything for him. “You’re a good man. But this isn’t much. I’d like for you to look over some things for us. As you know, we have been talking to the ghosts at Henry’s house, and there are a couple of things that we don’t know what we’ve found.”

  “Why do you think that I can help you?” He said he thought they were pieces of medical equipment from decades ago. “All right. I can do that. Anything else?”

  “Yes, come by the house with the rest of the gang and hang out. We’re not having pizza—we’ve had enough of that—but Forrest is coming home with about two hundred bucks’ worth of Chinese food, and we’re going to pig out. We might have to order pizzas later, but for now, we’re going to eat really bad-for-us food and put today behind us.” Brody said he could do that if Jordan and Aaron wanted to come. “They’re already at the house getting the plates and other things ready.”

  A nice way to end the day, Brody thought. And he hadn’t had any Chinese food for a while. He was reasonably sure that Jordan had never had it. His mother had hated the smell of it. This was going to be a good night, and he rode to Jake’s house with him.

  Chapter 13

  The body was still slightly warm, but Brody didn’t remark on it. They were talking about the manner in which the woman had been killed, not how long ago. She’d been wrapped in a large area rug and dragged out to this secluded place along a road. Only the top of the rug was open enough to see her face and the area near her breasts. He’d not been able to open it much more, just to look where he could, until the photographer got there.

  Touching his pen to the mark at her throat, he determined that it was the cut that had killed her. The other wounds were superficial and done after the death, he thought. That had
confused him too, but he didn’t have the entire body to work with just yet.

  Brody didn’t think that she had been killed the way it looked. The knife was sticking out of her head—her eye, as a matter of fact. It it wasn’t the right length or the right style. Looking at it, he asked how much longer they’d have to wait on pictures to be taken, and was startled back on his ass when the ghost of the woman appeared before him.

  No one with him could see her—he’d figured that out a few weeks ago when he’d been working the field. Brody had been doing this job now for a month, and tomorrow was Thanksgiving. He wasn’t going to hurry through this, but neither was he going to waste time if he didn’t have to.

  So, under the semblance of talking to himself, the way that he had explained it before, he started asking questions. Then when she answered him, if she knew the answer, he’d say it aloud for everyone to hear. They all must have thought him insane.

  “This wasn’t the knife that killed her, I don’t think.” The woman shook her head. She could speak if she remembered how, but nothing much more than that. He looked away when Wally appeared beside the woman. “No, not the knife that killed her. So why stab her with it after she was dead?”

  “She said that the knife that he used is over yonder near the apple tree. Hard to tell what an apple tree is, but she’s from these parts and knows all the trees here. I can read words now, too, about trees and such. That Christy, she—” Getting Wally to focus sometimes was a fulltime job. “Yeah, leaning against the apple tree. He must have forgotten it.”

  “Can you guys have a look around? For a knife that might be serrated on the tip, but would be fairly long?” In five minutes they’d found the knife. “All right, my dear, why were you killed? Domestic abuse? Did you do something that made someone angry with you?”

  “She said that it was her husband. And she has a brother that she’d like for you to call for her. You can do that. You’re not going to find information about him at her home.” Brody nodded. “I’ll tell you when we leave here.”