Wild Crown

by Tripp Ellis

  Our presence had reopened an old wound.

  "Just think of this as an opportunity to put the past behind you," I said.

  "I have put the past behind me. You should too!"

  I said nothing.

  He glared at me. "You won't be able to figure out who killed her. In a couple years, two other cops will come around asking me the same goddamn questions. For the record, I didn't kill her. Okay? Are you listening?"

  He paused for a long moment.

  "I’ll listen to everything you have to say."

  "Look, I've done a lot of things that I'm not proud of. And I did some things that night that I regret. And it has haunted me ever since. I feel terrible for that girl, and her family." His eyes welled slightly. It was clearly an emotional subject for him.

  I'd seen criminals deny their guilt and put on the waterworks during interrogations before. It wasn't that they were Academy Award winning actors. They were genuinely upset. Upset and scared. Scared they would get caught. They'd tear up because they knew their lives were at stake. Or, at least, their freedom.

  I couldn't quite tell with Ben. He was angry, but he seemed genuine.

  "Walk me through that night," I said.

  Ben took a deep breath. "It's been a long time. Some things are a little fuzzy, while others are crystal clear. But I can tell you with absolute certainty, that I am no murderer. And if you look at my statements over time, you won't find any inconsistencies. That's the thing about liars. Their stories fluctuate. They can't remember what they've said from interview to interview, especially over a period of years. I haven’t wavered a bit.”

  “Tell us what happened,” I said.

  “I was just a kid back then. I was 22 in 1986." His mind drifted back to the day. "The Bait Station was a great place to work. Lots of pretty girls, and I was a lot better looking than I am now. I did okay. More than okay. It wasn't unusual for me to flirt with a girl and leave the bar with her. Me and Joey used to drag so much ass out of that place. It was a target rich environment. Have you been to the Bait Station?"

  We nodded.

  "So, you're familiar with the layout? There is a main bar, a sidebar, and the bar on the patio. The main bar has two bartenders on a typical night. Management would rotate us around, working different bars. The main bar on a Friday and Saturday night was the biggest moneymaker. Me and Joey worked the main bar a lot. We were a good team. We made a lot of tips, and we got a lot of phone numbers.

  "Samantha had been coming in for a few days with her friends. She was cute, and we hit it off right away. It was her last night in town, and the bar was slow. Joey covered for me so I could leave early. It was kind of our deal. If he was doing well, and it looked like he might score, he'd take off and I'd handle the bar myself. And he'd do the same for me. Sometimes we'd score a chick in the parking lot, or take her down to the beach. Hell, I even banged a few broads in the alley behind the bar." He raised his hands, innocently. "I know, I know, it's not politically correct to say that kind of shit these days, but I was a young kid full of testosterone and it was 1986. And I never did anything with these girls that they didn't want to do. Let's get that out of the way."

  "Samantha was 18 at the time. What was she doing drinking at the bar?" I asked.

  "You gotta remember, the drinking age was 18 until 1985. That's when it changed to 21 because the federal government said they would withhold highway funds from the states if they didn't change the drinking laws. We thought it was bullshit. And it cut down on business. I didn't work the door. Samantha could have had a fake ID, or maybe the doorman just let her in because she was cute? If they were in the bar, I served them."

  "So, what happened with Samantha?" I asked.

  "We left the bar, and I took her down to Taffy Beach."

  "What time?"

  "This is where it gets a little fuzzy. It was before closing. I'm guessing between 12 AM and 1 AM?" Ben said. "Keep in mind, we'd drink all night long while we were serving. A shot here, a shot there. It was one big party. Time was fluid. One day ran into the next. I'd party all night, sleep all day, rinse, and repeat."

  "So, you took her down to the beach expecting to get a little something?" I said.

  "Yeah. Samantha seemed totally down. I took her under the pier. We fooled around. Things were getting hot and heavy. Clothes started coming off."

  "Was she drunk?"

  "We both were." He shrugged, innocently. "Anyway, so we’re fooling around, and pretty soon I've got her buck naked under the pier. My hormones are surging. I'm ready to smash it, but there's a problem. I didn't have a rubber. That was a deal-breaker for her."

  "Did you force yourself on her?" I asked.

  His face twisted. "No! I'm not a rapist. See, this is the kind of shit that pisses me off. You people jump to conclusions."

  "Sorry. Go on," I said.

  He scowled at me for a moment and huffed. "I tried to convince her I didn't have any diseases and that I would pull out. All the usual stuff a guy says to avoid wrapping it up. And, I'm not proud of this... but I got a little mad. And, I guess she got a little mad because I was being persistent. I think she sobered up a little and realized that she didn't want to fuck some stranger underneath the pier anymore.

  "Then I pulled a dick move. And, I fully admit this was a dick move. I grabbed her clothes and stormed away, leaving her under the pier naked. I was pissed off. I was used to getting laid every day out of the bar. Now this girl was gonna take me down to the pier, get me all worked up, and not finish the job?"

  JD and I cringed.

  "See, you're looking at me like I'm a scumbag. It was shitty. I know. And if I could go back in time and change things, I would."

  "So you left her stranded on the pier with no clothes?" I said.

  "Yes. That was the last time I saw her. And it's haunted me ever since. You can imagine how I felt afterward, knowing that she had been murdered. So, yeah… I blamed myself for a long time. If I wouldn't have taken her clothes, she'd probably have gotten dressed and left. But instead, she probably stayed under the pier, freaking out, wondering how she was going to get back to her hotel in her birthday suit."

  "What did you do with her clothes?"

  He hesitated for a long moment. "I threw them in the dumpster. But, I kept her panties."

  I arched a curious eyebrow.

  "I went back to the bar and showed Joey the panties and acted like I got laid. You know, it was an ego thing.” He frowned. “Then when this whole thing blew up, Joey told the police that I had screwed her and had shown him the panties. Really made me look bad and contradicted my story.”

  “Do you still have the panties?” I asked.

  His face twisted again. “No. I’m not some kind of freak. Plus, all that shit had to go when I got married. You can't have a drawer full of other women's panties hanging around when you’ve got a wife."

  "Are you still married?"

  "Hell no. That was the second dumbest decision in my life."

  “Do you remember seeing anyone else in the area on the night of the murder?” I asked.

  Ben shook his head. “I wasn’t really paying attention at the time. I was pissed off, and I had a serious case of blue-balls.”

  "Do you know how we can get in touch with Joey?"

  "Yeah. The National Cemetery. He was killed in the first Gulf War. Good guy. We were tight until the murder. I think even he believed I was guilty. He didn’t want anything to do with me after that.” His eyes misted again. “I lost my best friend because of this nonsense.”

  JD and I frowned.

  “Would you mind giving us a DNA sample that we can use to rule you out against the remaining pieces of evidence?" I asked.

  8

  "I gave a DNA swab back in 1986!" Ben exclaimed.

  "Technology has improved a lot since then." I didn’t tell him that we didn’t have a swab on file.

  “If it will help stop this nonsense, yes. I've got nothing to hide. I'm telling you the truth."

>   I had brought along a collection swab in anticipation of the meeting. I pulled out the small cylindrical plastic container from my pocket, put on latex gloves, and swabbed the inside of Ben's cheek. Then I placed the swab into the container and sealed it. I labeled the evidence, dated it, and put it back into my pocket.

  We thanked Ben for his cooperation.

  "If you can think of any other details, please contact me," I said, sliding my card across the table.

  He took the card, examined it, then slipped it into his pocket. "I suppose I'll hear from you when you rule me out?"

  I nodded.

  "Good. Hopefully you guys will leave me alone after that."

  We slid out of the booth.

  Ben said one last thing. "Please, give my condolences to the family."

  I was pretty sure that Florence Baxter didn’t want to hear a thing from Ben Brown.

  The sun squinted our eyes as we left the restaurant and stepped onto the sidewalk. Cars rumbled up and down Oyster Avenue. The sky was clear and blue. It was a nice day.

  "You think he's full of shit?" JD asked.

  I shrugged. "He didn't exactly paint a flattering picture of himself."

  "It's an old tactic. Admit your flaws up front. Makes your lies seem more believable."

  JD had a point.

  "You know what I think? I think he took her down to the pier. She said no. He forced her, then killed her to shut her up. The DNA swab he gave us won't mean anything. Even if it matches the cigarette butt, he's already admitted to being with Samantha at Taffy Beach. I don't think it will rule him in or out." JD sighed. "Too bad the original rape kit went missing." He paused. "Are you hungry? Smelling that grill has got my stomach rumbling."

  "We could go to Kelp. They have healthy options."

  Jack's eyes narrowed at me.

  "I'm more than happy to get a cheeseburger. You're the one who's trying to get a sixpack."

  "Just because you already have a sixpack doesn't mean you have to be an asshole about it," Jack grumbled.

  "I have an 8-pack, bitch."

  Jack rolled his eyes.

  We strolled down the sidewalk to the seafood restaurant. They had sushi, seaweed salads, grilled fish, and sandwiches. The place was decorated like an undersea garden. Forests of kelp were painted on the walls, along with colorful tropical fish. We sat in a booth, and Jack ordered a seaweed salad. I ordered the Cedar Plank Salmon. He ordered a diet soda to go along with the meal.

  The food was fresh and tasty. The service was good. And the ambience was nice.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket during the meal. I pulled it out and looked at the screen. The call was from one of Samantha's friends. She had been with Samantha the night of the murder. I had left a voicemail on her phone earlier.

  My thumb swiped across the screen, and I took the call. "This is Deputy Wild."

  "Hi, this is Robin Parsons, I'm returning your call."

  "Thanks so much for getting back with me."

  "Absolutely. I must say, I was a little surprised to hear from you. I didn't think anyone was looking into this case anymore. I'm glad to hear it."

  "I know this may bring back some unpleasant memories, but I'd like to ask you a few questions about that night. Can you talk now?"

  "Sure. Go ahead. Anything I can do to help."

  "What was your general impression of Ben Brown?"

  "I know Samantha thought he was cute. He seemed like a nice guy. I regret leaving her alone in the bar. It was a slow night, and we were bored. Kim and I wanted to go out and meet guys, and Samantha had already found the guy she was interested in. She urged us to go have fun. She didn't want to ruin our vacation." Robin groaned. "If I could go back in time and do it all over again."

  "It's not your fault."

  "I just wonder what would have happened if we stayed with her the whole night."

  "She probably would have left with Ben Brown, anyway. Who knows?"

  "Have you spoken with him?" Robin asked.

  "I have."

  Her voice turned sharp. "And what did he say?"

  "He maintains his innocence."

  "I'm sure he does. What an asshole. Did he tell you he left her on the beach, naked?"

  "He's sticking to that story."

  "It's the one he's been saying for all these years."

  "Can you think of anyone else who may have wanted to harm Samantha?"

  "No. Not really. We were on vacation. We didn't know anybody."

  "What about her ex-boyfriend? I understand they had just broken up."

  "Yeah, Cliff was pretty upset about that."

  "Angry?"

  "I imagine so."

  "Angry enough to kill Samantha?"

  "You know, I replayed the scenario over and over in my mind. I can't say that I haven't thought about Cliff as a suspect. I know he claimed to be in Texas during the time of the murder, and he was cleared as a suspect, but I'm not so sure that's the case."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Cliff was kind of an odd guy. Really intense. He was cute, I remember, but he had this creepy thing going on behind his eyes. We used to call him the Stalker. Samantha hated it when we called him that. He was like this sad puppy dog that followed her around everywhere. He did whatever she wanted him to do. He took it really hard when they broke up."

  "Why did they split?"

  "Honestly, I think she got bored with him. He was always quiet. Introverted. Sort of a loner. I think Samantha was afraid that she was going to get stuck in that relationship without ever really experiencing life. I think she just wanted to date around and see what was out there. I think she liked Cliff, but I don't think he set her heart on fire. You know what I mean? I just don't think the passion was there.

  "Samantha was adventurous. She wanted excitement. She wanted romance. I don't think she got that from Cliff. But, then again, what teenage boy really knows how to romance a woman? Hell, most grown men don't know how to romance a woman," she muttered.

  "Do you think he could have been in Florida at the time?"

  "I do, actually. And, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I could have sworn I saw him at a bar on Oyster Avenue while we were there. I caught a glimpse of a guy that looked like him. I didn't have my glasses on at the time, and I just saw his profile. Then he turned away and disappeared in the crowd. I said something to the girls, and they dismissed it. I mentioned that to an officer during the investigation, but it was dismissed. Deputy Sutton, I think. He was kind of an ass. Oops, sorry. I hope he's not a friend of yours?"

  "Nope. Don't know the guy. I think he's retired."

  Robin continued. "But if I recall correctly, Cliff had a solid alibi in Texas."

  "I tried to get in touch with Kim Bennington, but I'm having a hard time tracking her down. Do you still talk?"

  Robin paused. "You won't be able to find her as Kim Bennington. She had a bad marriage with an abusive man. Real jackass. It took her forever to get away. She changed her name, moved across the country, and was living under the name Kate Bennett." Robin sighed. "Unfortunately, she was killed last year in a car accident."

  "Sorry to hear that."

  "Thank you. We stayed close all these years. She was my best friend. I could pick up the phone and call her anytime and we’d pick up right where we left off."

  "Did you two ever talk about Samantha?"

  "All the time. You know, we'd drink wine, talk on the phone, and speculate for hours about what really happened. We were real armchair detectives that didn't accomplish a thing."

  "Did you ever come up with anything interesting?"

  "No. Just what lousy friends we were to Samantha."

  "Stop blaming yourself for this," I urged.

  "I've tried. It doesn't work."

  "Listen, I really appreciate your time. If you can think of anything else that might be helpful, call me anytime."

  "I will. I hope you catch this bastard. My money is on Ben Brown."

  I thanked her again and hu
ng up the phone, then filled JD in on the conversation.

  A moment later, Brenda called with shocking news.

  9

  "I can tell you the cocaine was high quality stuff," Brenda said. "Pharmaceutical grade. But Skylar didn't die from an OD."

  "What did she die from?" I asked.

  "Vexatropanil™. "

  "What the hell is that?"

  "It's a new drug derived from the venom of a poisonous Asian snake. It's a sodium channel blocker. A large enough quantity, consumed over time, would be fatal. The cocaine was laced with it."

  "You think it is a bulking agent that dealers are using on the street to cut their product with?" I asked.

  "No," Brenda said. "This stuff is expensive and hard to come by. Skylar Van Doorn was murdered."

  That hung there for a moment.

  "Who would have access to this drug?" I asked.

  "A doctor. A pharmacist. Hospital staff. It's not prescribed directly to patients."

  "What is it used for?"

  "Pain management. As a sodium channel blocker, it disrupts nerve impulses and can be used as an analgesic. This stuff is a thousand times more powerful than morphine. In large quantities, it will activate all the nerve pathways, causing paralysis and death."

  “What do you consider a large quantity?”

  “2-3mg.”

  My brow lifted. That didn’t seem like very much. That amount could easily be laced within a gram of cocaine.

  “Can you get this stuff on the black market?”

  “You can get anything on the black market,” Brenda said.

  "You're sure this was a homicide?"

  "Positive. The drug comes in liquid form, it could have been sprayed over the cocaine, and once it dried, the active ingredients would still be present. This was probably a cumulative effect that occurred over a few days, depending upon how large her habit was. The cocaine would only enhance the lethal effect."