Johnnie Finds a Dead Body

by DS Whitaker

  He enjoyed losing himself in that other world for a while.

  Writing the letter to Robin could wait.

  ***

  Dear Diary,

  I talked to Dr. Lou today and it went okay. But the real news is crazy. I knocked on Gertie’s door this evening to return her towels and apologize for forgetting about helping with the shutters, and Cud was there, walking to the kitchen in his boxers. I guess they’re an item now.

  I’m happy for Gertie and Cud, but now I wonder if they’ll forget about me. That’s what happens. Like when dad left mom and moved away to live with his girlfriend.

  I started writing the letter to Robin, but it made me feel like crap, because after everything she’s done for me, she deserves better. I may have to tell her everything if I can work up the courage. Maybe she’ll laugh. It is a little funny. But then I might have to tell her about Cud and the stick thing, and that would get him in trouble, which would be wrong.

  See, Diary, this is why lies never work.

  Anyway, I’m going to bed early. I’m having a bad headache. Love, Johnnie.

  Chapter 10

  Not again.

  Why this beach?

  Another body. This time, it was a young woman. It was still very dark out. Just five o’clock. She wasn’t water-logged like Bob. She was face down in the sand, with a machete in her back. Her long dark hair floated and then fell with each ebb of the tide.

  Johnnie wondered if he should name her as well. But somehow, this death was different. Giving her a random name felt insensitive…wrong. He called the police.

  Operator: “What is the nature of your emergency?”

  “I’m at Hawksnest Beach. I found a deceased woman.”

  Operator: “Johnnie, is that you? It’s Janice.”

  “Hey, Janice. Could you tell Tobias?”

  “Sure. Did you check the woman’s pulse?”

  “No, I didn’t touch her. Should I check? She has a machete through her torso.”

  “Oh. Oh, I see. Just wait. An officer will be there shortly.”

  “Thanks, Janice.”

  “Bye, Johnnie. Be good now.”

  He needed to call his boss next.

  She answered on the sixth ring. “Good morning, Johnnie.” Her voice sounded weak, like maybe he woke her up, but also sad, like she’d been crying.

  “Kemper, it happened again.” He walked in a small circle, carving a path in the sand, keeping an eye on his boots and the imprint they made.

  “Sorry, what happened?”

  “I arrived early this morning because I couldn’t sleep. I was getting ready to comb the beach and there was a young woman, dead, on the shoreline. Close to where the other one was. The police are on their way.”

  There was a pause. “Johnnie, I’ll be there soon. Don’t touch anything.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Kemper hung up.

  He looked around. He was alone at the beach. The moon was low in the sky, reflecting off the water like twinkling Christmas lights. Serene despite the situation. He looked toward Cud’s nest, wondering if Cud would ever come back or if he planned to move in with Gertie.

  He sat on the sand cross-legged about fifteen feet from the victim. Who was she? Who would do that to her? Did she have ID on her? He resisted urges to check her pockets for information. Because that got him into trouble with Bob. He rocked back and forth, sitting on his hands. No, he couldn’t look for clues. Couldn’t. A Sesame Street song popped into his head. One of these things is not like the other…not like the other…not like the other. He hummed along.

  After a few of minutes, sirens wailed in the distance.

  Should he greet the police in the parking lot? Or keep an eye on the woman? A wave of guilt washed over him, as if he did something wrong that led to the woman’s death. He knew it made little sense, but the feeling was strong. But sometimes he felt the cause of all bad things.

  Would Tobias look at him — peer into his soul—and make the same conclusion? That he had something to do with this murder?

  Johnnie shook his head. He rose to his feet and walked toward the parking lot. Two police vehicles pulled in and parked diagonally across the lot. He approached their headlights.

  One officer opened his door, training a gun at Johnnie. “Put your hands in the air!”

  Two of the officers from the other vehicle exited, crouched behind their doors, also aiming their guns at him.

  He put his hands in the air. “I’m Johnnie Crosswell. I called it in.” Could they not see his uniform?

  The officers kept their stance. The first one said. “Remain as you are.”

  Another vehicle pulled in. A black SUV with a white emblem. The chief’s car.

  Officer one walked up to Johnnie. “Get on the ground. Face down.”

  “Sir, I work for the Park Service.” He relaxed his arms to his sides. “Come, I’ll show you the victim.” He turned his head toward the beach.

  Behind him, he heard running. He turned.

  The officer unhitched his baton and hit him across the stomach.

  Johnnie clutched his mid-section and crumpled to the ground, rolling into a ball. The officer kicked him in the chest.

  Johnnie braced his arms around his head. He couldn’t take a blow to his cranium. Not with the weak spot. A doctor told him one strike could be a death blow. “Stop! Ow. Motherfu—”

  A hulking figure walked up, standing over him.

  Johnnie’s glasses were missing. He couldn’t make out the man’s features, but he knew it was Chief Tobias from the stench of cheap aftershave.

  “Johnnie Crosswell.”

  Johnnie remained frozen in a ball. “Sir. Fuck you.”

  Tobias said to the first officer, “Put him in restraints and take him to the station.”

  Game over. He heard Robin’s voice in his head, ‘Don’t fight’. Johnnie began counting in his head and laid down on his stomach, his hands behind his back, waiting for the cuffs. A familiar move from his days in Miami.

  His mind raced, evaluating the repercussions. If Robin was mad before, she’ll be blazingly furious now. He had to clam up. At least that’s what Robin would want until she could get him a proper lawyer. How much was this going to cost him? A shit-load. In that moment, he despised Tobias. Wanted to spit in his face as they led him to the back of the police car.

  Why couldn’t it be Tobias in the surf with the machete?

  In the back of the police car, he waited. And waited. He touched his skull in the spot with the bone graft. It seemed fine. Months into his recovery, Robin told him the hospital used bone from his pelvis to patch up his busted skull. She teased him affectionately that he was literally a butthead; it became a running joke. Sometimes they joked about brain farts. The thought made him chuckle.

  The sun rose. He saw Kemper’s truck arrive. Maybe she could talk sense to Tobias.

  Sitting in the back of the patrol car felt like he was watching a drive-in movie with a broken speaker, but a strange one where the actors were all talking about him. He couldn’t hear much of what they said. From Kemper’s body language, she seemed aggravated at Tobias. She waved to Johnnie.

  He nodded back.

  Through the glass, he heard her muffled voice call out, “I called your sister.”

  He mouthed, “Thank you.”

  More waiting. The coroner’s vehicle arrived.

  A few minutes later, officer one returned to the police car and drove him to the station in Cruz Bay.

  He hated jail. If he had a book to read, it wouldn’t be so bad. But the chances of them giving him something to read were slim.

  With each deep breath to calm himself, his ribs ached. He ran his hands gingerly across the painful spots on his back, feeling for misaligned bones. Would they let a doctor check him out? He prayed Robin would be at the station when he arrived.

  She would know he was innocent.

  Because if she didn’t, he was screwed.

  ***

  Kemper h
elped Merv put cones outside the parking lot, directing visitors away. Her brain went through the mental gymnastics of trying to understand how there could be two dead bodies in as many weeks. This wouldn’t bode well for her monthly operations report. What was going on?

  A policeman with a nametag ‘Roberts’ walked up to them. “Ma’am, are there any security cameras on the property?”

  Kemper stood, feet apart, and winced. “No, sorry.” Given some recent thefts and the pile of bodies, she wondered if she should put cameras in next year’s budget.

  “Just checking. We’ll be out of here shortly. Let you reopen by noon.” He tipped his hat at her.

  “Thanks, officer.” She chewed on a hangnail.

  Officer Roberts waved and walked away.

  Merv turned to her and whispered, “Do you think he did it? I mean, I know he lost some of his marbles in Afghanistan, but killing a woman? Heck, maybe he misses killing people. Like he developed a taste for bloodshed. Did you ever see Platoon? The quiet ones are always guilty.”

  Kemper narrowed her eyes. “He’s shy. Do you even know what happened to him?”

  “No, explain it to me.”

  “Before I hired him, I had a long talk with his sister. God, I don’t know if I should tell you. John’s so private.”

  “Come on. I work with the guy. I need to know if he’s a serial killer! I mean, what if I say something wrong to him and he,” Merv made a cutting gesture across his neck, “filets me like a halibut? Geez, the guy has severe anger problems. I see him give the finger to visitors all the time. And the other day? I thought he was going to fight me.”

  She gave him a stern look. “Merv, I’m glad you could get here on such short notice but I think it’s best if we reserve judgement and wait for the facts.”

  “No. No way. Come on. What’s his story?”

  Kemper scraped her fingernail across her teeth. Would it be a betrayal? Maybe if more people knew the truth it might help?

  She waggled her finger at him. “Fine, but you can’t tell anyone else.”

  “Sure, no problem-o.” Merv grinned, his arms crossed.

  Kemper drew a deep breath, hoping to get the story correct. It had been years since the conversation with Robin.

  “He was in a peace-keeping unit. Five years ago, his team was escorting an American congressional delegation through Kandahar when a Taliban vehicle came up behind them, weapons aimed. Including a grenade launcher. The convoy was able to outrun them for a bit, but to help the others escape, John dove out of the rear Humvee. He commandeered a taxi cab and drove it head-on into the enemy vehicle.”

  Merv’s eyes widened. “No shit.”

  Kemper continued, “He was shot in the head seconds before the vehicle collision. John’s a bonafide hero; he literally saved the lives of six people.”

  “Damn. Really?”

  “Robin said it was a miracle he survived. Skull reconstruction, multiple broken bones. She said he flatlined once on the operating table. It took months of rehab in VA hospitals to put him back together.” Kemper wrung her hands and nodded. “I really admire him.”

  “Shit.” Merv shook his head. “Maybe I owe the dude an apology.”

  “No. Again, don’t let him know—”

  “Whatever you say, boss.” Merv waved at another car to keep going down the road to the next beach.

  Kemper took off her broad-rimmed flat hat, dusted it off, and re-set it squarely on her head. It was time to get answers. “I’m going to talk with the Chief.” As Merv waved at the next car, a flash of gold caught her eye. She cocked her head to the side. “Hey, nice watch.”

  “Um. Thanks. It’s a knock-off. A guy was selling them on the dock.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “Right. I’ll be right back. Are you okay here?”

  “I’m good.” Merv nodded and turned his attention back to the next car approaching.

  Kemper walked down to the water line. Medics were lifting the woman’s body, now in a black bag, onto a stretcher. Tobias was busy talking with a detective wearing a white shirt and black dress pants. She waited a few feet away until he was available, trying to make eye-contact, occasionally raising her hand like a school-girl. Quickly hiding her hand again when he continued to ignore her.

  The beach was technically her jurisdiction as a National Park. Was Tobias a misogynist or was he a schmuck to everyone?

  She started to understand why Johnnie wanted nothing to do with the Chief.

  Clearing her throat made no difference. Kemper couldn’t take it any longer. She planted herself in front of Tobias and launched right in with her burning questions. “Chief? I hear your team will be done soon? When can we reopen? Will Johnnie be released today? Are you charging him? I need to make staffing plans.”

  Tobias crossed his arms. “I plan to hold him and then we’ll see. If I were you, I’d make long-term plans that don’t include Johnnie Crosswell.”

  Kemper huffed. “Well, I think you are making a big mistake.”

  He scowled. “You do your job and I’ll do mine. Got it?”

  She shook her head and walked away. As she turned toward the parking lot, the marked-out area around the turtle nest caught her eye. Should she tell Tobias? No, he didn’t deserve the courtesy and, besides, she wanted check it out first.

  On the edge of the parking lot, she spotted a pair of glasses. They were unmistakably Johnnie’s with the round lenses and flip-up tinted covers. She tucked them in her shirt pocket and fastened the button to secure them. Next, she found Merv. He was moving the traffic cones so the ambulance could depart. “Hey, we should check the predator cam.”

  Merv’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. “You think…?”

  “Can’t hurt to look. But let’s wait until things settle down and Tobias leaves, okay?”

  Merv snickered. “Sure. Whatever you say, boss.”

  Chapter 11

  Robin was in the shower when her cell phone rang. She rinsed the soap around her eyes, wondering who would call at six in the morning. Grabbing a towel, her hair dripping, she went to her nightstand to check the incoming number. She’d missed the call but recognized the caller. It was Kemper Snow.

  She mumbled under her breath, “What the hell did you do now?”

  Walking back into her bathroom, she brushed her jet-black wet hair and toweled her body dry. She got dressed in a red blouse and black suit, putting on her most sensible and comfortable dress shoes, because it might be one of those days.

  Robin took a deep breath and checked the voicemail from Kemper.

  “Robin, it’s Kemper, Johnnie’s boss. It’s now ten til six. Sorry for bad news, but Johnnie was arrested. They’re bringing him to the station. He seems okay. Another dead body washed up this morning and he called it in. Thought you should know. I need to handle things on site. Call me when you get a chance.”

  Robin rubbed her eyes. Should she call a lawyer or the bail bond's office first? She’d need to put her condo up as collateral. What a mess.

  She sat on the edge of her bed and clasped her hands together. “God, if you can hear me, send me strength.”

  The sun streamed through her window, a bright orange. Not a sign from God, she knew. But she would take any hopeful signs at this point. Maybe she needed to reserve judgement until she had the facts. That was the lawyerly way to handle it. Still, she wanted to hit something, kick something. Smash the walls with her fist until her knuckles bled. Was this how Johnnie felt during his rages?

  She didn’t bother with breakfast and headed out the door to the police building. It was only a two-minute walk. The town was asleep except for two groggy tourists who stopped her near the traffic circle, asking where they could buy a cappuccino.

  The two-story stucco police station and the legislature building were next door to each other. On an island this small, she knew everyone at the police station. In fact, her best friend Janice ran the police switch board. Robin entered and walked up to the Desk Officer.

  “Good morning,
Arturo.”

  Officer Arturo Bell, sitting behind the plexiglass reception desk, touched his cap. His friendly face, with a wide nose, dimples and flawless ebony skin, was a sight for sore eyes.

  “Ah, Good morning Senator, what can I do for you this fine day?”

  She leaned on the counter. “You didn’t hear?”

  “No, ma’am. I just came on shift.”

  “Is Johnnie here?”

  His forehead wrinkled. “Your brother? He’s works for the Park Service, correct? Why would he be here?”

  She sighed. “I heard he was arrested and coming here. Could you check his ETA?”

  “Oh, so sorry, Senator. I’ll find out. Take a seat and I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks, Art.”

  A large intoxicated man was asleep in a corner chair, leaning his head against the side wall. His stench polluted the air like sour milk.

  She needed caffeine. Without it, her head would start pounding and she didn’t need to feel any worse. “Arturo?” she called. “I’m going out for a latte. What can I get you?”

  From the back, out of view, he said, “Coffee, a little cream.”

  “Got it.”

  She pushed the glass door open and headed back up the hill to the closest café. On her way, she saw two police vehicles drive up from the west. She kept going, determined to enjoy some self-care before going into the fray. Whatever Johnnie did could wait five goddamned minutes.

  The Java Crescent Café was a local favorite and had the best coffee in her opinion. It was small, with only four small round tables, but most of their business was to-go orders. The place was sheathed in dark wood paneling and the floor was terrazzo. Blown-glass pendant lights in various colors framed the space above the counter. The owner, Redmond, was in his sixties but was bouncy like a teenager, and he loved to gossip. A television mounted on the wall was always running Spanish soap operas, but in the mornings, was tuned to the public television station showing children’s programming. Dora the Explorer was on some type of case.