Johnnie Finds a Dead Body

by DS Whitaker

  She got in line behind another customer. The person in front of her, a man she didn’t know, was talking with Redmond.

  Redmond said, “Did you hear about the dead girl?”

  The customer said, “No! What happened?”

  “I hear she was murdered. Hacked up with a machete. They said it was gruesome.”

  “Say what? What kind of madman would do such a thing?” The customer clicked his tongue in disapproval.

  “I tell you, it must be a bad element. Enjoy your day now!”

  The customer took his order and left.

  Robin glared at Redmond.

  “Miss Senator, why are you lookin’ at me like that now?”

  She crossed her arms. “How on earth do you know about this already?” News moved fast on the island, but this was ridiculous.

  “What? The murder? Some police came in before. I overheard them talking.”

  “You know what? I don’t have time for this.” She got out her money. “I need a latte and a coffee light, both to go. And I’d appreciate it if you could keep the news to yourself.”

  “Ooh, so testy. Yes, Miss Robin. You need your java. Redmond will fix you up!”

  Robin exhaled, a million thoughts running through her brain.

  Someone tapped her shoulder. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but did he call you senator?”

  Robin regarded the woman. She was petite, pale, with shoulder-length blond hair, wearing a flowered T-shirt and cotton skirt.

  “Yes, I represent St. John in the legislature. I’m Robin Crosswell. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m Mary Taylor. My husband was found dead last week. But I can’t get any answers from the police.”

  Robin’s mouth fell open. “I’m…I’m so sorry for your loss. Um. I’m headed to the police station now. But…um…you know what? I can make some time. I’d like to hear about your husband.”

  They sat down at one of the bistro tables near the window.

  Mary whispered, “Thank you. I’m scared and don’t know who to trust.”

  “Tell me what I can do. You can trust me. Anything you tell me will be kept in strict confidence.”

  Redmond walked over with two cups, the latte and the coffee, and placed them in front of Robin, and walked away again.

  In a whisper, Mary said, “A man came to my home yesterday. He was looking for something. Threatened my life. But I don’t have it. I think this is the same man that killed Robert.”

  “What was he looking for?”

  Mary looked around the room. Robin also turned to scan the room.

  They were alone except for Redmond and he now had headphones on, bobbing his head to what Robin assumed was music, as he swept the floor behind the counter.

  Mary whispered, “A computer file. He said Robert stole it. This guy ransacked our entire house looking. He put a knife to my throat. Said if I mentioned this to anyone, he would kill me in my sleep.”

  “And you didn’t tell Chief Tobias?”

  Mary fiddled with her hands on the table. Her eyes conveyed panic. “I’ve been sitting here, trying to get the courage. But if another person was killed…just like my Robert…I don’t know if it’s safe. Tobias wasn’t very keen on finding Robert’s murderer when I met with him last week. Said he didn’t have any leads. I almost think he doesn’t want to pursue it.”

  “Do you know what’s on this computer file?”

  “No idea. I don’t know what he got mixed up in. I mean, he was a marine biologist. He did surveys. Boring stuff.”

  “What was he working on recently?”

  “A project for the British Virgin Islands, doing surveys around Great Thatch Island for the last month. But he said he couldn’t talk about it. Strange, because he had to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”

  Robin shook her head. Biologists signing NDAs? That didn’t sound logical. She opened her handbag and retrieved her business card. “Here’s my card. It has my personal cell on it. I know someone in the FBI who might help. But let me dig around a little first. Do you have somewhere safe to stay?”

  “I stayed with a friend last night. I could move in for a few days.”

  “Good. Give me your phone number. I’ll call you by the end of the day.”

  Mary wrote her number on a square white napkin and whispered, “Thank you, Senator.”

  “Call me Robin. Take care of yourself.”

  Robin left with both cups, nodding goodbye to Redmond, who waved, still with his headphones on.

  Back at the police station, she walked up to Arturo’s desk. “Is he here?”

  “Johnnie arrived a few minutes ago. He’s in processing.”

  “Your coffee might be a little cold.” She handed it through the cutout in the plexi. “I need to see him right now. I’m his lawyer…for now.”

  “I don’t know if you can. Let me check.”

  Arturo disappeared to the back.

  Yes, it was going to be one of those days. Waiting and worrying. At least the drunk guy from the corner was gone. The waiting room wouldn’t smell so bad now.

  Arturo returned. “Chief is still at the scene, so you can see your brother for a few minutes. But be quick.”

  “Thanks.” The side door buzzed and she walked through. Arturo showed her to a door with a sign that said “Int-1” and used a key card to open it.

  Johnnie sat at a stainless-steel table in a ten-by-ten windowless room, wearing only his white cotton briefs and tank-style undershirt, his wrists cuffed. He raised his head as she entered. “Hey.”

  Arturo said, “Three minutes,” and closed the door behind her.

  She inhaled and jutted her chin at Johnnie. “Where are your clothes?”

  “They took them for evidence. Good thing I shaved.” He grinned.

  “What? Johnnie!”

  “I didn’t want to argue with them. They won’t find anything.”

  “Fine. Go.” She crossed her arms.

  “Go? Go where?”

  She shook her head. “We don’t have much time. Tell me everything.”

  “Are we being recorded?”

  “No. Now go.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  Not this shit again. She pounded her fist on the table. “Why were you arrested?”

  “Tobias hates me? I don’t know. I saw a dead woman. I called 9-1-1 and talked to Janice. The next thing I know, police cars roll up, they hit me, knock me to the ground and arrest me. They didn’t ask any questions.”

  “Where were you last night?”

  “Home. Reading. I talked with Dr. Lou by video in the afternoon. Cud stayed over at Gertie's. I gave back her towels around five. Watched a little TV and read a book until nine. Then went to bed with a headache.”

  Robin took a seat. She studied Johnnie’s face. He kept her gaze, which showed he might be telling the truth. “Did you fight back or harm anyone during the arrest?”

  He shook his head, “No. You would have been proud. But they hit me with a baton. Kicked me. I should sue Tobias.”

  “Do you need a doctor?”

  “My ribs really hurt. So… yeah, maybe.” He pointed to his side.

  “Okay.” Robin sighed. “I’ll talk to Tobias. Anything you need right now?”

  “Tell Kemper I’m okay. I lost my glasses. They might be in the parking lot. Let Gertie know where I am in case I don’t come home.” He cracked a smile. “I could use a book or five to read depending on how long I’ll be here.”

  Robin knew that without his prismatic lenses, Johnnie’s misaligned vision gave him headaches and made reading a challenge. She placed her hand on his. “Little brother, I’ve got you. Behave yourself in here. Don’t be a butt head. I’ll be back later.”

  Arturo knocked on the door. “Time’s up.”

  Robin rose from the chair, her eyes narrowed at John. “Do not answer anything. Understand? Even if they ask what your favorite color is.”

  Johnnie nodded. “I’ll tell them red, like human blood.”


  She wrinkled her nose. “Not funny.” Straightening her skirt and jacket, she walked out of the room.

  Arturo closed the door behind her.

  “Thanks, Art.”

  “Chief is back. You want to see him now?”

  “You know it.”

  “Okay, follow me.”

  She was going to rip Tobias a new asshole. Her phone read seven o’clock. In an hour, she was due at her office next door. Still, she knew Johnnie needed a different lawyer. One who wasn’t a relative. She’d make some calls.

  They reached Tobias’ office. It was tiny, like all the rooms in the police building. Framed photos of the police force, a letter of appreciation from the little league team, and his picture with the Governor lined the dark wood-paneled wall behind his cluttered desk. He greeted her with a glower.

  “Why?” she asked.

  Tobias rose from his burgundy leather office chair. In such a small room, he seemed like a giant.

  “Your brother is a psycho, that’s why.”

  “Do you even have a case?”

  “I can hold him for twenty-four hours without charging him.”

  “And I can hold your nuts in a vice for the next year if you don’t release him. I think I’ll zero out your equipment budget for next year. The bill is on my desk right now.”

  “Crooked like your criminal brother? I’m not surprised.”

  “I heard you gave up looking for Robert Taylor’s murderer. Maybe you are the crooked one.”

  “Well, I think it’s obvious your brother is a serial killer. We haven’t had a murder in four years and now two dead bodies show up on the same beach, both called in by your brother? What kind of coincidence is that?”

  “I want him released now. Unless you charge him…but I know you won’t because you don’t have a real case. You need to end this bullshit.”

  Tobias barked, “Fine. But I’m going to talk to him first.”

  “Not without a lawyer.”

  “Then you better get him one.”

  “I will.”

  “Good.

  “Fine.” Robin stalked out, wondering if she just did more damage to Johnnie’s situation by confronting Tobias. Maybe her brother wasn’t the only hot-head in the family. She headed toward the exit, unable to utter words to Arturo when he asked how it went. She just pointed to the door and he buzzed her out.

  Her heart raced and her breath came out in huffs through her nose as she walked the eighty feet to the government annex. Storming back into her office, she slammed her handbag against the wall behind her desk; the contents exploding onto the floor. She screamed, “Shit, shit, shit!”

  She threw her door closed. [Blam]

  Down the hall, her assistant, Dottie called, “Good morning, Robin. Are you okay?”

  “Good morning. I’m fine,” she yelled through the door. On reflection, she was fine, as in, not in immediate physical danger; but mentally, well, that was a totally different conversation. And Dottie would learn soon enough how ‘not fine’ things actually were. Robin shook her head, opened her door, and called out, “Get me the number for that criminal lawyer on St. Thomas. Deals in homicide cases. Begins with a G—Grimes or Graves or something. And, no, don’t ask.”

  Dottie said, still out of view, “Yes. I’m on it.”

  Robin collapsed in her chair. Her schedule was full today. Meetings nearly every hour with colleagues and constituents. An economic proposal she needed to review. And a brother to break out of jail.

  So much for island time.

  She found a loose cigarette in the back of her desk drawer. She’d quit smoking a couple years ago, but this was an emergency. Robin lit the end with a match and inhaled the sweet nicotine. Her brain received the chemicals with deep appreciation. But her lungs fought back, hacking and coughing.

  I picked the wrong decade to give up smoking, she thought. She put the cigarette out and coughed repeatedly, trying to clear her chest.

  Dottie rushed into her office. “Are you okay? Because you’re cursing and coughing and I don’t know what else. You sound like a right banshee giving birth to triplets!”

  Robin laughed; her eyes moist from trying to hack up a lung. Dot was the best. She was wearing her signature culottes and gauzy blouse with espadrilles on her feet. Her eyes were alert, like they could pierce steel, with narrow arched brows. She was short, but had a button nose and high cheek bones that any model would envy. But it was Dottie’s razor-sharp wit and can-do attitude that Robin envied. Like nothing phased her.

  Dot said, “When you get yourself together, Mr. Greaves is on line one.” She dashed away again.

  The button on her desk phone flashed red.

  “Thanks,” Robin shouted. She pulled the napkin from her jacket pocket and traced her finger along the ink of Mary Taylor’s phone number.

  Tobias was right about one thing. The cases had to be related.

  And it was time to put the pieces together.

  Chapter 12

  It was the happiest of days. Cud stretched his legs; a sunbeam warmed his bare torso. He hadn’t slept this well in years. He rolled to his side. Gertie was gone.

  Cud got out of bed and hunted for his shorts. Pillows and sheets lay in piles on the floor. He smiled as he sorted through the mess, carefully folding the linens and placing them on the bed.

  His shorts weren’t on the floor. He looked around, finding them dangling from a post on the headboard. He couldn’t recall how that happened, but much of yesterday was a blur. A sweet John and Yoko kind of blur. An out-of-body experience.

  A sound outside caught his attention. Gertie was singing in the garden out back, like he’d seen her the first time they met. This time it was “Dream a Little Dream of Me”. But somehow, now she looked more radiant. More beautiful. The most beautiful.

  As he zipped his fly, he felt the bulge in his pocket. The thumb drive.

  He opened the window and called, “Good morning, my love!”

  She waved. “Good morning. I’m going to make breakfast.” She wiped her garden gloves together, brushing off the soil. “I’ll be right in.”

  “Um, no, you enjoy yourself. Can I use your laptop and your phone? I want to call my grandson.”

  Gertie walked up to the window. “What’s mine is yours, sweet Cudlow.”

  He leaned through the opening to kiss her. “Thank you, birdie.”

  “Birdie? My dad used to call me that. I like it. I’ll be in soon. The passcode to my phone is 222.”

  He grinned as she walked back to the garden.

  After continued searching, he located his polo shirt under the bed and went to the living room. Gertie’s electronics were on the kitchen counter, plugged in next to a glass vase with two-dozen long-stemmed pink roses. The card read an admirer. Jackson had come through after all.

  He called his grandson.

  “Pawpaw, I’m glad to hear from you again. How are you? How was your project?”

  “Jackson, I don’t have much time. I need another favor. Again, no questions.”

  “Really? Again?”

  “Yes, will you help me or not?” Cud tapped his fingers on the counter.

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “I’m sending you a file. I need you to look up these numbers. Give me the total net worth and then delete all record of this communication. Can you do that?”

  “Where are you calling from? I don’t recognize this number.”

  “My girlfriend’s place. The one you sent the flowers to. But I don’t have time. Call me right back on this number and then delete it from your phone log. Understand?”

  “Hold on. You have a girlfriend? Paw, I’m so happy—”

  “Just do it!”

  Jackson sighed. “Okay. Standing by.”

  Cud ended the call, plugged in the drive and Bob’s password, ‘despicable’. He logged into an old email system, an untraceable one, and sent the numbers to Jackson. Encrypting the file would have been wise, but Gertie’s computer wasn’t set up for t
hat. Then he deleted all the remnants from Gertie's’ system—for her own protection.

  He stared at the phone, too paralyzed to move, willing Jackson to call him back.

  Two minutes later, Gertie walked in carrying a basket of squash and peas. “Do you want some eggs? I make a mean omelet.”

  He closed her laptop. “That sounds lovely. I…I’m waiting for a call back from Jackson. A good kid. Just graduated from Yale.”

  “I hope to meet him someday.” She walked to him, set down her basket on the blue counter and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “Yes, I’d like that, too.” He kissed her cheek.

  She left his side to start breakfast.

  “Anything I can do?”

  “No. Just take a load off.” She began breaking eggs into a bowl.

  The phone rang. Cud grabbed it from the counter. “Um, it’s Jackson. I’m going to take this outside.” He walked to the front door. There were fewer remnants of the lemon squares on the ground, indicating birds or other critters had continued noshing on them during the night. The Tupperware container was gone.

  He accepted the call. “Jackson? Bottom line?”

  “Thirty million. Give or take. Is this yours? Have you been investing again?”

  “Aaaagh.” He dropped the phone on the ground.

  Jackson’s voice rose from the device below, “Are you still there?”

  He picked up the phone, wiping off blades of damp grass. “Delete it. Everything. All traces. We never talked. Do not call this number again. Bye.” He hung up, then deleted her call history, incoming and outgoing. Not that it would matter much. There would be records elsewhere. Bollocks.

  Cud walked back inside. Gertie was still occupied with cooking. He took the thumb drive out of his pocket and clenched it in his fist. He scanned the room. How to hide it?

  A few minutes later, breakfast was ready. The eggs were delicious. They talked about going for a walk and then the grocery store. Later, as Cud washed the dishes, Gertie gave him a look and ran her hand along his backside. Her aura was rose pink. And he was feeling the same. But first, they took a shower together.

  Life did not get much better than this.

  Yes, he decided, despite the bad news about the blasted thumb drive, it was the happiest of days.