by DS Whitaker
***
Park Superintendent Kemper Snow arrived promptly at 11:30, right before lunch. Or what normally would be lunch. Robin wasn’t hungry. Maybe it was all the coffee she drank to calm her nerves, only causing her to shake and tense her jaw.
Johnnie’s tall, skinny boss had straight light brown hair and an upturned nose most people would consider unflattering, but she had a smile that made Robin feel instantly at ease.
“Please, tell me it’s true,” Robin said, gesturing Kemper to sit in the visitor chair next to Greaves.
Kemper said, “I think this will clear him. It’s grainy and dark, but you’ll see.” She took a SD-card, the size of a postage stamp, from her chest pocket. “Does your laptop take this?” She handed it to Robin.
Robin inserted the card, located the video file in the directory. “How do I play this?”
“You have Windows, right? The media player should work.”
After some finagling, the video played. Robin kept the screen in front of her, away from Greaves. She needed to see for herself first.
Greaves shook his head. “Look, the meter is running here. Do I get to see this or not?”
Robin raised a finger. “You’ll see it after I do. If I want you to.” The video played. Not much to see, just a dark image of sand and the occasional fleck of light reflecting off a wave or a distant boat. “Kemper, what am I looking for?”
“Skip ahead to 2:10 AM.”
She watched. “Holy…”
“Wait for it. He has a tattoo.”
She skipped ahead thirty seconds. “Oh my…Yes! That’s called a tribal tattoo, right? And that man’s arms are much hairier than Johnnies’. Oh…what? Ewww. I can’t believe he did that.”
Greaves tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “What? What did he do?”
“The machete. You can’t see the woman’s face, but that made my skin crawl.”
Greaves shook his head. “So, you have the actual murderer on film? And it ain’t your brother? Let me see already.”
Robin asked, “Kemper, I assume you made an extra copy?”
“I have one. Wait.” Kemper walked behind Robin, moved the mouse, and clicked some keys. “There. I placed a copy on your desktop.” She looked at Robin. “I should walk next door and give the original to Tobias. Just wanted you to know first.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Robin clucked her tongue. “No, wait. I want that massive cockhead to come over here to watch it.” She turned to Greaves, giddy now, and flipped her computer screen around to face him. “You can watch this now. I’m going to get Tobias. Superintendent Snow, can you stay for a few more minutes?”
Kemper nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Thanks.” She brushed the hair from her face and left the office. In a matter of seconds, she was outside the building, feeling the warm sun on her face, bursting with happiness like a five-year-old on Christmas morning, holding back whoops of joy. Looking up at the heavens, she said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
A few feet ahead of her, Officer Arturo exited the police building, heading up the hill. Without thinking, she hurried towards him, catching up to him, tapping him on the shoulder, breathing heavy. “Arturo, how’s Johnnie?”
He whipped his head around, “Senator, nice to see you again.” He looked side to side and scratched the back of his neck. “I tried to get a doctor in to see him, but Tobias said no. And your brother got into a fight with another inmate. I didn’t want to—honestly—but I had to… tase him.”
Robin’s smile vanished. “He got into a fight? Did he start it? Shit.”
“No…I…you shouldn’t be mad. The guy had it coming. I would have liked to beat his ass myself. Excuse my language.”
“Johnnie knows better.” She closed her eyes. “Has he calmed down now?”
“Yes. I put him in a cell by himself. Oh, and I asked around the precinct and no one had a book, so I gave him some paper to write on. I’m on my lunch break, so I thought I’d stop up at the library. What does he like to read?”
The library was only blocks away, but was small and not open on the weekends. Her brother knew it well, although he often forgot to return books, racking up late fees. It became a problem. “Oh, Arturo. That’s so sweet. But that won’t be necessary. Johnnie will be going home soon.”
“Really? Did Tobias tell you that?”
“No. But Superintendent Snow has video footage. It’s plain as day that Johnnie didn’t kill that woman.”
“Wow. That’s great. You must be relieved.” He gestured toward the sidewalk. “I’m going to get lunch. A sandwich at the Crescent. Would you like to join me?” He gave a shy smile and glanced down at the ground, like he was inspecting his shoes.
What was it that Janice said? Something about an officer at the station having a crush on her. She imagined Janice had just made that up, being a trouble-maker as usual. Because at forty-seven, men never gave her a second look. She’d known Arturo for years, seeing him around town many times. Last month, at the grocery store, they ran into each other and chatted about something silly—like what their favorite cereal was when they were kids—and, later in the checkout line, he joked about a tabloid headline. Something about aliens in the Bermuda Triangle. Normal friendly innocuous conversation. Was Arturo asking her out? Like on a date?
It was too much to process given how fraught her morning was. “Arturo, that sounds lovely, it really does. But can I get a raincheck?”
“Ma’am, no worries. You’re busy. Sorry to take up your time. I’ll be going…” He spun.
And there it was. She’d done it. Made him feel foolish and humiliated when obviously he felt so shy around her. “No, wait.” She put her hand on his arm. “Arturo, I’m interested, truly. But I’m slammed right now. How about dinner Friday?”
His jaw dropped and his face brightened, showing off his dimples. “Senator…”
“Please, call me Robin.”
“Robin, yes, Friday. We can go anywhere you want.” He looked happy but seemed to hold his breath.
“Good. Call me tomorrow and we’ll make plans. I have to go see Tobias now…”
“Yes, yes…I’ll call you.” He backed away, grinning, stumbling on a patch of broken concrete, re-setting himself, waving.
She stood for a moment, taking in his form as he turned and walked away from her—appreciating his wide shoulders, narrow hips, and long legs. She chuckled—silently wishing Johnnie had gotten arrested sooner.
***
Tobias followed Robin into her office and barked, “This video better be all you said to interrupt my lunch.”
Greaves lifted his head from his newspaper. “You bet your sweet bippee.” He snapped his fingers in the air.
Tobias pointed. “Who’s this bald twerp?”
Greaves shot up and tossed his newspaper to the floor. “I’m the twerp that is going to show the entire V-I what an incompetent ass you are.” He stepped up to Police Chief, his eyes mere inches from Tobias’ chin.
Kemper, seated in the other visitor chair, nodded, “Good afternoon, Chief Tobias.”
“You too? What is this, some kind of lame-ass Johnnie Crosswell fan club?”
As enjoyable as it could have been to see Tobias’ reaction to the video, Robin needed the Chief to listen, to back down from his preconceptions, and not lose face. “Greaves, come with me. Kemper, please show our esteemed Police Chief the footage. We’ll wait outside.”
Greaves scowled at Tobias before following her into the hallway. Robin closed the door behind them.
The lawyer leaned against the wall. “So now what? There’s still the issue of the contract and the check. I’m a busy man.” He picked at his teeth.
“Slow your roll. Let’s wait to see what the Chief says. Allegedly, Johnnie assaulted another inmate. Even if the murder charges are dropped, there may be other legal problems.”
“Fine. I’m hungry. Where can a person get a half decent pastrami sandwich around here?”
“The Yellow Parrot isn’t bad. You probably passed it coming off the ferry.”
He shook his head. “You have my number. Call me when you’re ready to sign.” Greaves took off his suit jacket and threw it over his shoulder—not noticing a wadded brown greasy napkin fell out of the jacket pocket onto the floor. He stalked away, disappearing at the stairs.
Robin listened outside her office door. No voices for a spell until Tobias asked in a frustrated tone, “How do you rewind this thing?”
After some garbled conversation, Tobias whipped open the door. “Superintendent, thank you for bringing this to my attention.” He set his gaze on Robin and held up the S-D card like it was a razor blade and he wanted to cut her face with it. “You win. Come get your deranged sibling. I want him out of my sights.” He brushed past her, not waiting for a response.
She lunged for her handbag, grabbed it off her desk, and jogged to catch up with Tobias.
Behind his back, she grinned; her happiness exploding in her chest like fireworks. The reasonable part of her brain chided, “Not a word.
Not a bloody word.
Get in, get Johnnie, and get out.
Chapter 15
Dear Diary,
It isn’t even lunch time yet. Jail is boring as hell, and I’m getting cold. They keep the air conditioning on blast. But Arturo gave me some paper and a green crayon to keep me busy. I’m not good at drawing and I can’t see great without my glasses. I’ll probably rip this up later, because Tobias will probably think I’m writing a confession, which I’m not because I didn’t do anything.
As jails go, this one is better than Miami. But I already got into a fight, and the guy had it coming. Arturo was cool and said he wouldn’t tell Tobias. In fact, he apologized for tasing me. If Lou were here, she’d say I shouldn’t have snapped like that. But sometimes pieces of shit need to be beat, and that’s just that. I’m not sorry.
My lawyer still hasn’t shown up, so I might not go home tonight.
I don’t know what to write about. Robin says I should start writing stories because I read so much and it would give me a creative outlet. I’m not a writer—except for you diary—and almost flunked English in high school. But it would be okay because no one will ever see it but me. If I wrote a story, it would be an adventure about a pirate that steals and gives to the poor, like Robin Hood. And he would have a beautiful mermaid girlfriend that helps him retrieve gold doubloons and other booty from sunken ships. But they could never be together because she loves the water more than him. And maybe the pirate would have a pet iguana instead of a stinky, annoying parrot. I know it sounds stupid and no one would—
Thunderous footsteps echo in the hall, waking him from his daydream about the pirate king. He threw the crayon away and stuffed the lined paper up the back of his thin undershirt.
“Crosswell,” Tobias barked. “Time to move.”
“What’s going on? Did Robin post bail?”
Tobias unlocked the cell, his eyes like daggers. “Just shut up and move.”
He walked out of the cell, pulling up on the waist of his underwear, “Where to?”
The Chief stormed towards the front of the station down the narrow hall. Johnnie followed. They stopped at the bailiff’s desk. Tobias handed him a tall paper grocery bag. “Take your belongings and leave. Get your ugly face out of my sights.”
Ugly? He’d been called worse things, but never ugly. Not that he had movie star looks, but he wasn’t deformed or anything. Johnnie pawed through the bag’s contents. In all his life, he was never so glad to see his pants. The bag contained his uniform and boots. He whipped the pants in the air to unfurl the legs and stuffed his cold legs into the openings. As he began winding his belt back through the loops, Tobias shook his head and pushed him toward the front door.
“I said, go.”
Johnnie stumbled forward, padding the rest of the way in his mid-calf brown socks toward the exit. The stares of all the station personnel bored into him as he reached for the push bar. He took a deep breath and walked out, wondering if they would change their mind and tase him again.
The first person to greet him was Robin, standing on the sidewalk, with his boss Kemper next to her. The outside warmth felt welcome on his numb skin. Robin stretched her arms outward and drew him in for a long hug.
He dropped the bag on the sidewalk. “Ow, Sis, not so hard. My ribs and muscles are still sore.”
She released him, took a step back, and looked him up and down. “Are you okay? I can take you to the hospital.”
“I’m alright. I think my back is just bruised. I just want to go home.”
Kemper stepped towards him. “Glad to have you back.” She handed him his glasses.
Johnnie scratched the side of his head near his scar, “What happened? Why did Tobias let me go? Did his heart grow six sizes?” He fiddled with the glasses, checking the hinges. There was a slight scratch on the outer tinted lens, but otherwise, they seemed fine.
Robin rested her hand on Kemper’s shoulder. “Your brilliant boss had video showing the actual killer.”
“Really? That’s incredible.”
Kemper shrugged. “The turtle nest cam came to your rescue. Now, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m putting you on a different assignment for the next two weeks.” She chewed on her thumbnail. “It’s not a punishment. But word got out about your arrest. Merv told me some tourists are coming to Hawksnest asking to meet the ‘St. Johnnie Killer’. It would be best for you to lie low for a few days.”
“Shit. I have a serial killer name already?” He donned his glasses, instantly feeling relief from the sun’s glare off the white sidewalk.
Kemper chuckled, “Looks that way. Now, I want you to relax the rest of the day and I’ll text you your assignment for tomorrow.”
He asked Kemper, “Hey, can I see the video?”
Robin grabbed his ear and pulled down on it sharply, putting an index finger in his face. “I love you, but I will kill you myself if you go anywhere near this murder case. You hear, butthead?”
“Okay, okay!”
She released him. His ear throbbed.
Robin said, “Good. By the way, I met Bob Taylor’s widow this morning. I’m going to help her get answers.”
Johnnie’s eyes went wide. “Really? What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet, but whatever it is, it’s not your concern.” She pulled on her suit jacket and fiddled with the collar on her blouse. “This is what’s going to happen. Kemper is going to drive you back to your scooter. You are going home and staying there the rest of the day. I’m going to try to get some real work done over the next two hours, go home early, and drink myself to sleep. Understand?”
Johnnie hung his head, avoiding her intense gaze. “I know this is all my fault, and I’m grateful for everything, but you always told me that drinking never solved anything.”
Robin put her hands on her hips. “Oh, so now you’re going to lecture me about drinking? Mister I-Got-Hurt-In-The-War and Drank-Myself-Nearly-To-Death? Huh. Fuck you, little brother.”
He raised his hands defensively. “That’s not what I meant. I just don’t want you to fall off the wagon again.”
Robin shook her head and stalked off. From twenty-feet away, she turned and gave him two upward fingers, then continued on, walking toward her office building and was soon out of sight.
Kemper tugged on a lock of her brown hair and dragged her foot in a circle, her chin low, “Family, right?” She smiled.
Johnnie’s eyes clouded up. Robin had every right to be angry. He shouldn’t have said that in front of Kemper. But after Robin’s marriage ended, she spent a year downing pills and bourbon. That was over a decade ago, even before his accident and her move to St. John, though he still worried about her. If his mistakes sent her down that road again, he couldn’t forgive himself. “I had that coming. If you only knew…”
Kemper clapped him on the arm. “Let’s get out of here. Hey, you hungry? We could
go to the Yellow Parrot.”
Images of the fight with Chain Boy flooded his thoughts. He desperately wanted to know if Mandy was okay. He should have asked Arturo earlier. “Hey, I could use a favor. Do you know Mandy James?”
“Sort of. She’s the bartender at the Parrot, right?”
He explained the story to her. “Could we stop by and maybe you could ask how she is?”
“Johnnie, I know your heart is in the right place, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. It would be an invasion of her privacy.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He looked down at himself, still in his undershirt and socks. Kemper was right; he shouldn’t pry. “In that case, I think I’ll go straight home.”
“Right. Let’s go.”
Kemper’s pickup truck was parked down the hill. Before getting in the vehicle, he opened the paper bag and pulled out his uniform dress shirt, ballcap and boots. He sat on the edge of the truck’s front bench and bent to put on his boots; his ribs screamed. “Ow! Fuck.”
“Are you okay?” Kemper sat behind the steering wheel; her eyes wide with concern.
“I don’t know. They hit me pretty hard earlier.” He stood and lifted his white undershirt and turned in a circle. “How’s my back?”
Kemper whipped open the driver’s door and jogged around the truck. “Oh, God! Johnnie.” She gingerly touched his back with her index finger. In a soft voice, she asked, “Does that hurt?”
“A little. How does it look?” He twisted his head but couldn’t see.
Her face appeared stricken and her blue eyes were moist. “Bad. Worse than bad. Who did this?”
“The cops. Before you arrived this morning.”
She sighed and clucked her tongue. “You need a doctor. I’m taking you to the walk-in medical clinic. You should get an x-ray.”
He pulled down his undershirt and tossed his boots in the foot-well. “No, it’s probably nothing.”
“I insist.” She jogged back around and took a seat behind the steering wheel.
He pulled his door closed. Reaching for the seat belt involved twisting. Pain shot through his back. “Ow. Fuck.” He reached again, slower this time, and fastened the clip. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time. I mean, you really saved me today. I don’t want to be a bother.”