Ogrodnik

by Gary Coffin

  “None that the husband knew of.”

  “Did you interview everyone at the husband's work?”

  “We talked to everyone who worked in the office. There are dozens of drivers and still more staff who work exclusively at the separation and composting sites that we did not interview. “

  “Riv, we’re not going to get anything done tonight. You get some sleep, and we’ll talk in the morning. Are you okay alone tonight, or do you want me to crash here?”

  “Don’t worry about us; we’ll be fine.”

  “Us?”

  “Yeah, me and Smith and Wesson,” Rivka replied as she patted her hip.

  Elliot was encouraged to hear some of the old attitude creeping back into Rivka’s voice.

  “Can you follow up with Stella and find out more about Eastern Security? Why was Kulas there? If Kulas worked for them, I’d like to know more about the company. It would be interesting to know if Eastern also provides the security at Biovonix.”

  He was reluctant to task Rivka so soon after her ordeal but figured that giving her something to occupy her thoughts would be beneficial.

  Elliot was thinking about Anne on the drive home, and before he knew it found himself parked in front of Dad’s house. He had not consciously intended to visit Anne, but their meeting on the deck yesterday and the memory of their parting squeeze had been distracting him all day. Not one to leave things hanging, he needed to find out where they stood.

  He didn’t even bother going upstairs and headed straight for the in-law suite doorbell.

  “Evening, Anne,” he said as she answered the door.

  “Elliot, so good to see you. What can I do for you?” Anne said dressed in her finest housework tee and sweats.

  “This is awkward, but I enjoyed our visit yesterday and wanted to know if you’d be interested in coming upstairs for a drink.”

  Anne hesitated as she looked down at herself.

  Elliot read the situation, and before she could say anything he added: “I think you look great just the way you are.”

  “Well then, if you don’t mind the charwoman look, then why don’t you come in? I just put the kettle on.“

  “A tea would be nice,” he lied.

  “Have a seat on the couch, and I’ll be right with you.”

  Elliot found himself appreciating the way that her body moved underneath the loose fitting t-shirt as she turned the corner into the kitchen.

  She brought in the tea service and sat beside Elliot on the couch. As it turned out, Anne was a skilled conversationalist and managed to steer the conversation around most of the awkward silences. She had lots to say and was well versed in just about every area of current events. Elliot appreciated that the conversation never veered toward the case. He could see why his father had enjoyed her visits.

  They had already finished the first pot and were well into the second and, as Anne stretched across in front of him reaching for the milk, Elliot’s eye was drawn to the way the fabric on her t-shirt was tight against her breast. He could clearly see the outline of her nipple against the stretched fabric and, when he realized she was taking longer than normal to prepare the tea, he lifted his eyes to see her looking straight at him with a smirk on her face.

  “Busted,” he said sheepishly.

  Anne threw her head back in a hearty laugh that made Elliot join in.

  “It’s been a while? Believe me, I understand,” Anne said disarmingly. This was the beauty of Anne that Elliot was just beginning to understand. Their visit could easily have been derailed by an uncomfortable situation, but Anne deftly slapped it aside and turned it into an endearing moment. As the laughter died, Elliot continued to look at her with an admiring eye.

  “What are you looking at?” she said.

  “I’m looking at you and wondering why we didn’t do this a year ago.”

  “Well, if you remember, your father tried to get us together, but based on your lack of interest, I thought it was a non-starter.”

  “Yeah, I was put off that Dad was trying to manipulate my life. It was nothing personal. Look, Anne, thanks for the tea and the stimulating conversation, but I need to get going. Would you be interested in dinner later this week?” he said as he moved toward the door.

  “Let me mentally check my calendar. Mmmmm, yup, I’m available.”

  Elliot chuckled and as he opened the door, he leaned in to reciprocate her hug from yesterday. Anne moved easily into him and, as they were pulling away, she touched her lips on the corner of his mouth. Barely a whisper of a kiss, the soft fleshy front of her lips grazed his skin just enough to leave behind a warm moist feeling. Elliot felt a flash of desire course through his body and hesitated for a moment in his release of the hug. Anne picked up on his indecision and hesitated pulling away from him, not wanting to force the situation nor willing to discard an opening. The pause was fleeting, a literal blink of an eye, yet the time for Elliot to act, to commit to another course of action had passed, leaving behind the clumsiness of indecision.

  He ended the stalemate in an equally awkward fashion. “See ya later” and left.

  On the drive home, Elliot caught himself smiling for the first time in many weeks.

  The Jewess lived in the west end on Crestwood Ave in a small house backing onto the Meadowbrook Golf Course. For the past two nights, she had been predictable. She’d watched TV until 10:00 before preparing for bed.

  Ogrodnik knew this because he’d been watching her. He had come across the golf course at dusk and made his way up to the edge of her backyard. He couldn’t help himself. He knew what happened to moths when they flew too close to the flame, but he felt compelled. The way the house was laid out provided him with a perfect view of the living areas from across the backyard. Ogrodnik crouched behind a thicket that offered him a good view of the entire house from the back. His knees protested as he assumed his position of surveillance. The last two nights, the big man had allowed the coolness of the ground to seep deep into his knees and hips. A man his size could not sustain that much stress on his joints. He watched as she stretched out on the couch snacking on something non-fattening, and he knew he could not endure another night in a crouch as he listened to his protesting joints.

  His encounter with her earlier today only added fuel to the fire that burned within. Tonight he felt a need to get closer, much closer. Predictably, at 10:00 p.m., she turned the TV off and made her way down the hall toward the bedroom. This was Ogrodnik’s cue to advance across the backyard to the house.

  Rivka stopped at the bathroom on her way to bed as usual. She took off her blouse and wiped what little makeup she wore from her face. Rivka had never been a heavy makeup user; she had a natural tawny hue to her skin that always made her appear as if she had spent the previous day in the sun.

  As she stepped out of the bathroom, she felt a slight draft coming from the kitchen. She walked back out into the common area of the living room/kitchen and stood perfectly still for a moment to see if there was indeed a draft or if it was just her imagination. It didn’t take her long to see that she had left the patio door partially open. She didn’t remember leaving it open, but it may have bounced open the last time she closed it. Given her encounter earlier that day, she stopped at the desk to pick up her gun and then crossed the room toward the door guided only by the moonlight coming in through the windows. Before closing the door, she opened it and stepped out onto the patio. The cool breeze felt good on her bare skin. Looking up, she noticed clouds moving in from the west that promised rain during the evening. A voice next door called out, and the yipping sound of Mrs. Johnson's barking dog stopped when it was brought in for the evening. Rivka thought that maybe she should get a dog. It wouldn’t be a little lapdog; it would be larger, like a Lab or a Shepherd. She’d train it well so she could walk it on the golf course without a leash, and it would give her an excuse to get out of the house. She thought about Angela preferring cats over dogs. That was just one of the many reasons they didn’t
see eye to eye.

  The breeze carried the faint peal of laughter of teens partying somewhere on the golf course. It wasn’t that many years ago when Rivka was one of them. She let her thoughts wander back to her days in senior high. The late night girl rendezvous on the golf course and the wine pilfered from home. Their only concerns in the world were if the boys would somehow catch wind of their tryst and crash it. The boys, of course, were the reason they convened in the first place. She had lost her virginity on that golf course. It wasn’t at all like she thought it would be. A willing partner, a bit too much wine, a lot of fumbling and groping, a few clumsy apologies and, in a moment, it was over.

  She never had a steady in high school; it just didn’t seem to work for her. In her first year of university, she hooked up with Zach Terrell, a second year engineering student and drummer in the school band. She stayed with Zach until he graduated, and then they slowly drifted apart. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Zach. She did, but to her, the relationship seemed like eating a breadstick. It felt substantial and tasted good, but ultimately, it wasn’t satisfying.

  Even back then, in bed late at night, when her hand would slip down inside her pajamas, she didn’t fantasize about the drummer. Her thoughts would invariably revisit one innocuous evening on a weekend ski trip during her first year of university. In order to make ends meet on a student ski trip, she was to share a room with Adele Rivard, a rail thin economics student she barely knew from previous ski trips. After a long day on the slopes followed by dinner and a few drinks, Rivka called it a day and went upstairs to bed where she found Adele already asleep. Not wanting to wake her, she undressed in the dark and quietly slid into bed beside her. Rivka lay there with her back to Adele, but despite her fatigue, sleep would not come. She felt the warmth from Adele’s body only inches away and breathed in her scent. The moist exhale of Adele’s breath caressed the back of her neck and, at one point, Adele stirred and her hand grazed Rivka’s back. No more than a touch, a gentle brush, completely inadvertent and without intent, but it was enough to moisten Rivka. Rivka lay awake for the rest of the night, hoping that Adele might touch her again and wondering what she would do if it happened.

  A shrill outburst of laughter in the distance brought Rivka back to the present. She inhaled one last lungful of the cool evening air and went back inside. Rivka closed and locked the door and then made a quick check of the other windows in the big room before heading down the hallway to the bedroom.

  From his hidden vantage point, Ogrodnik looked down the entire length of the bedroom toward the bed at the far end of the room. The minutes ticked by, and he wondered if he had made a mistake, that she was not on her way to bed and instead was phoning the authorities to deal with an intruder. He couldn’t afford to get caught, not at this late stage of his plan.

  Whatever trepidations that had gripped him only moments before evaporated when she entered the room, dissipating in the air and stomping down beneath his feet.

  Her hair, now down, shone like dyed silk when it caught the light as she casually crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed. She put her holstered gun on the nightstand, looked at herself in a large mirror and moved her head slowly from side to side while still looking at the mirror, as if seeing herself close up for the first time. Whatever flaws she was looking for were not evident to Ogrodnik. She was magnificent.

  Finished with her self-appraisal, she stood up, unsnapped her pants, pulled them down to thigh level and then sat back on the bed to pull them off. Ogrodnik felt himself harden. She walked across the room toward the hamper and tossed the pants in. Ogrodnik was no more than six feet from her as she unsnapped her bra and then proceeded to rid herself of the rest of her underclothes. Ogrodnik didn’t move a muscle as he watched through the slats for fear of attracting her attention. His only movement was an involuntary intake of breath when the light at the far end of the room highlighted her silhouetted form, starting at the curve of her neck, leading down to a toned shoulder and the smooth, rounded outline of the breast beneath. She held that position for a moment while fussing with something in her hair as if she were posing just for Ogrodnik. The word flawless formed in his mind as he watched from his unseen station.

  She slowly made her way back to the bed and he was completely captivated by the perfection of her form. It reminded him of a National Geographic special he had seen on leopards. Like the leopard, she walked in such a manner that every joint in her body was in motion but in such perfect concordance that it was naturally erotic. She ended her unintentional exhibition when she turned down the bed, climbed under the covers and turned off the light.

  Ogrodnik backed away from the window and stood there for quite some time, toying with the idea of acting on his impulses. A misty rain had started that left droplets of water on his face. He didn’t notice. Oblivious to the world around him, he ran through a dozen possible scenarios in his mind and fantasized about the outcome of each, all of them ending the same way.

  Eventually, his intellect took hold of his whims and cast them out. He quietly sated his needs before making his way back through the golf course. Soon, he thought. Soon.

 

  “Hello,” Rivka answered the phone.

  “Riv. I just got a call from the Office of the Chief of Police. He wants to meet us this morning. I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes.”

  Elliot and Rivka arrived at police headquarters on St Urbaine Street, just north of St Catherine Street. It was an enormous, industrial looking building in an area that was in the midst of an architectural rejuvenation. Elliot thought that it wouldn’t be long before this fading, flagship Montreal police station would go through a serious overhaul. They were led upstairs to the chief’s office and were ushered in without waiting. Inside they found the chief and two officers sitting at a side table off in the right-hand corner of the room. The officers all looked up when they entered, and Elliot felt as if he were intruding on a secret Druid ceremony.

  The chief spoke first. “Good afternoon, and thanks for coming on such short notice.” As if they had a choice, thought Elliot.

  “I’m Simon Doyle. Please, come in and sit,” he said motioning them over from his chair.

  ​Doyle sat back with his hands clasped behind his head and his head tilted back. Elliot knew this was a classic superiority pose. The head tilted back exposing his neck was a behavioral remnant from the dawn of man that indicated he feared no one in the room, and to prove it, he could openly expose his most vulnerable area, his throat, to those before him.

  The officers to his left were nodding their heads slightly in agreement to whatever Doyle had to say. Elliot also recognized this behavior as a leftover from the roots of mankind. The head nods were in fact abbreviated bows that signified subservience: a behavior that can still be observed in today’s primate colonies.

  It wasn't these obvious body signals that Elliot was interested in; he would be looking for the almost imperceptible, micro expressions and facial twitches that would tell their own story.

  “Elliot Forsman and Rivka Goldstein, let me introduce Detectives Rene Duval and Robert Durocher,” he said as he gestured toward the two detectives at the table.

  “I don’t want to waste everyone’s time, so let me cut to the chase,” said the chief as they sat down.

  “You’re probably thinking that it’s unusual that the chief of police is directly involved in a case the way I’m about to be. You’d be right. It is unusual, but based on the nature of the murder and the amount of press this will generate, I decided to involve myself personally so I can speak to it properly if the press corners me.”

  “As you probably know,” said the chief, “this meeting was prompted by the unfortunate incident with ex-Officer Frank Girard. When one of our own goes down, even if he was retired, we take it seriously,“ said Doyle as he looked over the report at Elliot and Rivka.

  “We’re grateful for the work you’ve done in getting close to a murderer, but it is my opinion
that you are in over your heads. Consequently, I’ve assigned Detectives Duval and Durocher to take over the investigation, effective immediately.“ Before Elliot could protest, the chief continued, “As a courtesy,” he said forcefully and let the words hang for a few seconds, “as a courtesy, we will keep you in the loop until the murderer is brought to justice, but under no circumstances are you to continue pursuing this case on your own.“ He said emphasizing ‘on your own.’ I want you to know that we are going ‘all in’ on this case and will not back off until we have resolution.”

  The chief looked up and made sure that his words were heard and acknowledged.

  “Let me reiterate what you’ve told us about the case to date to ensure that I have the facts straight,” said the chief as he picked up the case summary and started reading. Elliot didn’t know the chief but had seen him on TV many times. He was a captivating personality who commanded respect the moment he entered the room. He had that look of someone who wasn’t afraid to roll up his sleeves and work beside the common man while still maintaining that polished presence that made him so good in front of the camera.

  As he held the interview sheet with his left hand, he casually rolled a quarter across the top of his knuckles of the other hand much like you’d see a card player doing with a poker chip. The chief’s watch, a Rolex Daytona, was clearly visible as he read. Elliot looked at it while he listened and watched the second hand sweep smoothly across a face that had more dials than the space shuttle dashboard.

  “On March 31st your father was murdered on Mount Royal,” the chief stated. “The subsequent investigation yielded no clues as to the reason for the crime, so it was labeled as a crime of opportunity, and the investigation was shut down after a few weeks,” said the chief as he looked over his glasses waiting for a nod of acknowledgement from Elliot.

  “Not satisfied with the results of the investigation, you took up the case on your own. Your investigation led you to the belief that your father was targeted by a killer who was waiting for him on the top of the mountain. Through some clever investigative work, you managed to find the vehicle and residence of the killer, at which point you hired Frank Girard to tail him. When Ms. Goldstein went to relieve Frank, she found him murdered in his car. Is that accurate?”