Deadly Gratitude

by Lori Donnester

  Uelle’s long, blonde hair was nearly the same color as the bird’s light yellow feathers and the camera caught the sparkle in his wife’s cornflower blue eyes. Don recalled telling her the bird’s name had to be Belle because he bought a pretty bird for his very pretty wife.

  Uelle beamed at him when he said it. Don brought the photo closer to his face. “Today would’ve been your thirty-second birthday,” he whispered. Don closed his eyes and his head dropped.

  After a few moments, he wiped his eyes and took some deep breaths. “We miss you, Uelle,” Don whispered to the photograph. “We hope you are happy up there in heaven.” He kissed her picture, put it back down, and lingered over it for a little while longer. Then he looked at his watch. It was time to get moving. He grabbed some breakfast and hastened out the door.

  As Don approached Luke’s house, his forlorn mood faded when he spotted the snowman. Luke’s house was a modest, but nice bungalow in a modest, but nice part of Denver. The snowman in the front yard, however, was anything but modest. It was a huge, beaming monument that demanded attention. Don knocked on the door and Luke answered. “Good work, my man.” Don slapped Luke on the back. “What time did you get up to -?”

  Before he could finish his question, Lucy scurried over to him squealing, “Uncle Don! Uncle Don! Did you see my snowman? Daddy and I made it this morning!”

  “Yes, Lucy, I couldn’t miss your snowman. He is the biggest snowman I’ve ever seen.” Lucy jumped in Don’s arms and he gave her a heartfelt hug and a kiss.

  “Lucy and I were up at four thirty this morning making that masterpiece, and I decided he is the official snow statue of this entire street,” Luke announced.

  “That he is,” Don declared. “Heck, I think he should be the official snow sculpture of the entire city. And I am honored to be inside of the home of that spectacular super snowman!” Don grinned at Lucy and put her down as Sabrina walked over.

  She gave Don a kiss on the cheek and squeezed his arm. “How is Don doing today?” She searched his face as though she was trying to peer into his heart.

  “I guess about where you’d expect me to be. Better than last year, that’s for sure. Belle and I wished Uelle a happy birthday. But let me tell you that when I woke up this morning, I was very glad that I was going to get to see you and Lucy today before going to work.”

  Sabrina patted his arm. “We’re always here for you.”

  Don smiled at her. “It helps more than you know, believe me.”

  Luke took his gun out of a locked safe, strapped it on, and put a jacket on over his gray suit coat.

  “Okay, Cheeto, let’s go.” Luke turned to kiss Lucy and Sabrina goodbye, and handed Lucy a stuffed animal that he picked up off the floor. “Lucy, please go put that back in your room.” Lucy turned and scampered off to do his bidding.

  “You be careful, Luke Malone,” Sabrina commanded. “You have a family to come home to, you hear?”

  Luke grinned and posed in a muscleman stance. “I’ll be back,” he said in his best Arnold Schwarzenegger imitation.

  Sabrina smacked him and laughed. Then she looked over at Don. “You be careful too, Don Layden. I don’t like the neighborhood that you’ll be working in today. I’ve read about some drug deals going around over there. Those types would just as soon shoot you as look at you.”

  Don chuckled, “Oh, Luke and I have our share of woman-beaters and robbers too. We don’t discriminate.”

  Sabrina folded her arms and smirked. “Thank you. That makes me feel so much better.”

  “We’ll be careful,” Don reassured her. “But we have to catch this guy. The more I replay the murder scene in my head, the more I think that we have a real maniac on our hands.”

  Luke cuffed his partner on the shoulder. “What are we waiting for? We’re the two best maniac catchers I know. Let’s go get him.”

  Chapter Nine

  In a middle class suburb west of Denver, the killer sat at his kitchen table, watching the street outside. He reached for the cigarette stub that smoldered in an ashtray near his coffee cup. The current stump was just about ready to join the three butts that were already there. Smashing the smoke, he started pacing. Where was the paper? His stomach performed flips. He tightened the belt of his charcoal-gray kimono around his thick waist and kicked a stray Fruit Loop across the cherry wood floor with one of his slate-colored Australian Ascot slippers. A spider crawled up a wall, and he turned and crept towards it. It sped up towards the ceiling and he moved to smash it but missed. It climbed out of range for his five foot nine frame. His icy blue eyes narrowed, and he wiped his forehead with his sleeve, misplacing some strands of red hair. “Grrr!”

  Just then the paperboy ran up the sidewalk and tossed the newspaper on the front deck. “Finally!” The killer opened the front door, scooped it up, and spread it out over the kitchen table. After ruffling through the pages, the first section went flying across the room. The second page of the metro section rewarded his efforts: “Axe Murderer Butchers Prosecutor’s Wife in a Monstrous Attack.” What a beautiful headline.

  The killer leaned forward to read, then re-read every word. Finally, he smoothed the paper, sat back in his chair, and lit another cigarette. Enjoying a long, satisfying drag he leaned his head back and, with a smile on his face, watched the smoke curling around the kitchen and then float towards the dark, cave-like living room, toward the display of medieval axes, polearms, swords, shields, and halberds that was on the main wall, and then around the thick, tightly drawn curtains. Finally, the smoke thinned and dissipated.

  The phone rang. The killer turned toward it and watched as it rang again. He sighed and picked it up, disappointed by the interruption.

  “Hello dear, I’m calling you from sunny Costa Rica, isn’t that fabulous?” His mother’s familiar nasal voice filled the other end of the line and, as usual, she didn’t bother to wait for an answer. “We absolutely love every minute of this place. We might just stay here for a while. The condo is enormously expensive, but you only live once, right?”

  “Yes, Mother.” He sat down and rubbed his eyes, placing his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. He stared at the table as the call continued.

  “We are here with the Pikes. We enjoy being with them, too…” His mother blathered on for several minutes. “Henry Pike told us about his company, so I told him about your little company. How is your little company doing, dear?”

  The killer eyed one stack of personal unpaid bills and another stack of requests for funds from investors on the kitchen table. “It’s never been better.”

  “That’s nice, dear. The Pikes told us all about their son, Charles. Charles started up a company a while ago and he has a Mercedes similar to yours. How is your lovely Mercedes doing?”

  The killer closed his eyes. “It’s sitting in the garage all nice and clean, Mother.”

  “That’s good. You absolutely must keep it clean. You wouldn’t want to be seen driving around in a dirty Mercedes, would you?” She laughed one of her weird, phony laughs. “Charles is shopping around for a jet. Do you think you might buy a jet anytime soon? I’d love to ride around in your jet! I could tell my friends all about it.”

  The killer dropped his head. Sure, right after I figure out how to pay my electric bill, I’ll go look for a jet. “A jet is fine for national travel, but most of my travel is international. I’ve been investing in international funds whose headquarters are located in various places around the world. If I spend my money on a jet, it would just sit unused the majority of the time, whereas if I invest those funds instead, my money grows into even more money. A jet wouldn’t be a wise expenditure for me at this juncture. However, if I decide to do more business nationally, of course that is something I would consider.”

  “Oh.” She sighed. “Well, I’m glad it’s something that you’ll keep in mind.” She
cleared her throat. “Your father, the Pikes, and I are going to pop a bottle of Dom Perignon and go sit around the pool. But Mary wanted to call her son before we did that, so I thought that I’d call you out of the blue, too. Aren’t you surprised?” She said this as though she assumed he would be happy to hear from her.

  He didn’t answer, but that was all right because she didn’t bother giving him a chance to speak. “It was great talking with you. Goodbye, dear.” The line went dead.

  The killer held the phone away from his face and looked at it. “Don’t you mean it was great talking at me, Mother?” He killer hung up the phone, got up, refilled his cup of coffee, and walked back over to the newspaper.

  The financial section was out, reminding him of his hard times. There was a story about a number of businesses that had closed their doors in the city in the past month.

  Further down, the headline shouted about a Ponzi scheme thief that had been caught but only after millions of dollars were scammed. The killer sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. The economy had not been good to him. He grabbed the stack of unpaid bills and threw them on the floor. They lay there, next to the section of the newspaper thrown earlier and the Fruit Loop.

  Heading to his office, he spotted the message light blinking on his answering machine. He pressed the button and listened. “Mr. Witt, we tried stopping by your office, but it’s empty. We didn’t know you moved. We still haven’t received the check from those funds you were going to sell for us. Our son’s tuition is due at the end of the month and we were wondering where it is. Please give us a call back.” The caller left his name and telephone number and then hung up.

  “Yeah sure, I’ll call you back. Right after hell freezes over.”

  The next message however, was much more promising. “Hi, it’s David. I have great news. I’ve been working the membership roster from church and I already have a list of twenty couples interested in investing in the Brazilian fund you told me about. Give me a call and let’s discuss the details.”

  A big smile came over the killer’s face. Once again, he spoke to the answering machine, “That’s great news, David. All of a sudden, things are looking up. You and your church were a good find.”

  He stepped by a table piled with unruly stacks of papers and sat down at his black wooden desk. He usually ignored the cork board behind his computer monitor, but today he paused and looked at the photos: a picture with his parents when they gave him the big check so he could start his own business; a ribbon cutting ceremony when he opened the doors of his real estate financial company; other photos of real estate he secured through investments; and a photo with his associates raising glasses in a toast surrounded by several colorful bunches of balloons as they celebrated his third year in business.

  “And then the market crashed and popped my balloons. Haven’t recovered yet.” He squinted as he regarded his answering machine. “But you, David, are going to help me with that, aren’t you? You’re going to help me get some new clients so I can pay my bills and pay back some of my old clients.”

  He ripped the photos down, tore them to shreds, and threw them in the trash. Taking scissors out of his desk drawer, he strode back into the kitchen and took his time to cut out the story about Alicia’s murder. Bringing it back into his office, he hung it in the top left corner of the freshly cleared corkboard. Then he folded his arms and sat back in his chair and stared at it, smiling.

  The phone rang again, jarring his fantasies, but when he saw the caller ID he reached for it. “Hello there Mr. David Johnson, what can I do for you?” He paused. “Why don’t I meet you at church for the noon service and you can give me the list of names? I’ll invest for them as soon as I have their money. We want the funds to grow as quickly as possible, don’t we?” He listened to David, nodding his head. “Sounds good. I’ll see you in a little while.” He turned off his phone and headed for the shower.

  Soon he was in one of his best navy blue suits sitting next to David, a skinny recent college graduate who was still having some trouble with acne. The preacher stood at his lectern and spouted off while the killer thought about the murder. I planned that very well, didn’t I? The police have absolutely no clue. Killing someone without getting caught isn’t that hard; it was all a question of planning. Most murderers just aren’t as intelligent as I am. They don’t think through the details. It’s very important to have the mind to build a solid, insightful plan. Lost in thought, he was surprised to hear the final song indicating the service was over. He and David stood up and exited the main room. As the church members milled in the gathering space chatting, he felt David tugging on his arm.

  “I’d like to introduce Mr. Sutherland. I met him at a Christmas food drive last year. I told him about that Brazilian fund you showed me.”

  The killer broke into a dazzling smile and shook hands. “Yes, it’s an exciting opportunity. Let me tell you about the incredibly profitable emerging economy of Brazil.”

  Mr. Sutherland folded his arms. “Tell you what, I’ll listen to your pitch as long as you agree to help with my food drive.”

  “Deal.”

  About one hour and five families later, the killer had some nice sized checks in his pocket and drove to his bank’s ATM machine. After depositing them, he headed home, pulled on his Nike sweat suit, grabbed the stack of unpaid bills and the stack of requests for funds, and started making phone calls. “Hi, I’m returning your call about the funds. I’ll be dropping a check in the mail and you will have it in plenty of time to get that college tuition paid. Also, I have a new fund that’s showing a lot of promise, so give me a call. I’d like to fill you in on the details.” He sat and smoked and worked. One by one the stacks became shorter.

  After a few hours there was less paperwork and zero cigarettes. A grimace appeared on his face. Time to go get some more smokes. He grabbed his car keys and headed out the door.

  He drove to a nearby gas station and pulled in. He came here often. It had a big, well-stocked convenience store with lots of knick-knacks. Christmas items had been put out since the last time he stopped by. Silver tinsel on a Christmas tree shimmered in the sunlight and It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas played as he browsed through the displays, looking at the toys that were out for the season.

  He stopped and touched a train. Attached to the engine were three cars colored in bright red, orange, and green with a stuffed animal in each car. He pulled out a soft golden puppy with huge brown eyes and long floppy ears and stared at it.

  “May I help you sir?” A friendly female clerk gave him a smile. “Isn’t that the most darling toy? Any little boy would love it!”

  “Yes, I had one of these when I was little. A friend of the family gave it to me. I played with it for hours. I used to imagine traveling away to the best places with these little friends.”

  “We also have those same stuffed animals in a bigger size right over here.” She pointed to a nearby shelf and picked up a larger version of the puppy her shopper was holding. “These have little music boxes in them too. This one plays We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” She wound it up and made the dog dance to the music.

  “You’re a good salesperson,” he said with a wink at the clerk. “Sold.” He took the dog with him to the cash register to pay for it along with the cigarettes.

  When he got into his car he pulled out his phone and searched his contacts for an old friend, Rosalyn Walker. After listening to her voicemail recording he left a message. “Good morning, Rosalyn. I’m just calling to wish you a good Christmas season, if I don’t see you. Hey, do you remember that train you bought for me when I was little? The one with the little puppy and the bear and the tiger? They still make those. I just saw one and I wanted you to know that toy helped me to create some of the happiest memories of my childhood.” He coughed. “Anyway, I just wanted to give you a call.”

  He put the phone dow
n and turned his attention to the dog. He held it, staring at it for some time. “Hi Buddy, long time no see. I’ve had quite a few adventures since the last time we hung out.” He stroked the dog’s soft, golden fur. “Let me show you something.” He pulled a knife out of his pocket, opened it, and polished the blade until the silver shone in the sun.

  “Pretty, isn’t it? And this is just a little one. I have some bigger blades than this one.” He smiled at the stuffed dog. “I can’t wait to show you how I use them.” He paused. “Maybe you can come with me next time.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Okay, Cheeto, so far we’re striking out.” Luke frowned at Don. “We’ve interviewed ten more men and they all have legit alibis. At five in the morning on a Saturday, they were in bed and they all have someone who can vouch for them.” Luke groaned. “Okay, who is the next lucky man to be visited by Denver’s finest?” Luke stared into the open trunk at the box of files.

  Don pulled a manila folder from the box. “The winner is Jerome Whiting. Jerome is five feet nine inches, size ten and a half shoe, and he weighs about 160 pounds. He dealt drugs to minors in a school zone and got caught. He attacked the arresting officer but was overpowered. Served five years and was just released two weeks ago.” Don looked at Luke. “That fits. Plus, he attacked the arresting officer so he’s aggressive. Could be our man.” Don examined the file again. “He lives close by. Let’s just walk.”

  “Can do, Cheeto.”

  As Don trudged through the snow, he observed his surroundings. The homes on the street were run down. For most of the cars on the street, you could see rust on the doors and quarter panels. Traffic was just starting to pick up. Many of the residents they were visiting stayed up late and got up late. So far, the detectives had been the alarm clock for all the men they interviewed, but Don guessed that was going to change.