Black Viper

by Christopher Speight

  As Hughes’s taillights disappeared down the street, a sinister smile spread across the killer’s lips. The opportunity that seemed non-existent a few seconds ago suddenly presented itself. The killer stealthy made a slow trek around Marie’s house and up to her window. After completing the task in which they had come for, the killer disappeared into the night.

  46

  After dropping his partner off at home, Detective Hughes drove straight to the nearest Rite Aid and picked up a bottle of Tums. He had heartburn something terrible. Hughes actually suffered from acid reflux and was supposed to take Omeprazole once a day to relieve his discomfort. Unfortunately for his stomach, he hadn’t taken his medication in a few days and it was starting to catch up with him. He could have easily waited until he got home to take his regular capsule, but then he would’ve had to argue with his wife Rose as to why he hadn’t taken it. Hughes wasn’t intentionally skipping his medication. The murder of Marie’s husband had been weighing on his mind. He’d been on the force long enough to know that whoever killed Donald was an extreme threat to the rest of society. Anyone who had the gumption to kill a police officer’s spouse was a definite threat to civilians.

  By the time Hughes got home, it was nearly eight o’ clock. His stomach rumbled so loudly, that he could clearly hear it over the garage door being opened. It reminded him that he hadn’t eaten anything for the last ten hours. Hughes slid his thick frame out of the car and headed for the door. Upon entering his home, he heard the faint sounds of the television playing in the living room. Hughes smiled, already knowing what he would find once he got inside the room. He came to a stop in the doorway leading to the living room. Like she’d been so many times before, Rose was sitting on the love seat sound asleep. Her glasses were perched on the end of her nose. An open book rested on her chest. Rose was an avid reader. It was one of the things that had attracted Hughes to her. Ironically, though, he had never been much of a reader. Rose had been trying unsuccessfully to get him to do so for several years. Hughes reached down and carefully lifted the book off her chest. He looked at the titled and frowned.

  “Street Banditz by C.J. Hudson,” he mumbled. Hughes shook his head and laid the book back down on her chest. At first, Hughes couldn’t understand what she saw in urban fiction. The more he got to know her, however, the more he realized that the genre and how she grew up had a lot in common. She was a young lady who’d been raised in the inner city of Cleveland, Ohio, but refused to let her surroundings define her. Not having the patience to attend a four-year university, Rose decided to try her hand at a two-year clerical trade school. She graduated at the top of her class, landed a job with a local consulting agency, and had been gainfully employed ever since. Although she was a working woman, Rose almost always made sure that there was something on the stove for her husband to eat when he got home, and tonight was no exception. Milton Hughes stared at his wife for a few more seconds before making his way into the kitchen.

  Even though the kitchen lights were off, the small light above the stove illuminated the two pots sitting on the stove. In one pot was mixed vegetables, while the other one held perfectly whipped mashed potatoes. When Hughes opened the oven, his mouth began to water. Lying there perfectly seasoned and cooked to perfection was a pan filled with baked chicken breasts. After taking the chicken out of the oven, Hughes practically ran to the bathroom to wash his hands. When he returned to the kitchen, he was surprised to see that Rose had fixed his plate and set it on the table.

  “Thanks, honey, but you didn’t have to get up to do that. I could have fixed my own plate.”

  “No trouble at all, honey. I was getting up anyway,” she said as she walked up to him and threw her arms around him. “Rough day?”

  “Kind of,” he answered.

  Rose raised an eyebrow. Usually when she asked him that question, Hughes would simply say, “It is what it is,” and leave it like that. To hear him admit that he had a rough day meant that something was weighing heavily on his mind.

  “Really? What happened? Did Shelton bore you with stories of his women-conquering again?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood. “I swear, it seems like that man-whore is trying to sleep with every woman in the city.”

  “Nah, although it does seem like he sees a different woman every week.”

  “I guess he doesn’t want to leave any female stone unturned. How’s Marie doing?” Rose asked, getting to the crux of what she sensed was really bothering her husband.

  “About as well as could be expected. It has to be rough on her. I can’t imagine something happening to you,” he said, hugging her tightly.

  “I feel the same way about you. I must tell you though. It’s not easy being the wife of a cop.”

  “I’m sure. Just know that I plan on coming home to you every night.”

  “You’d better,” Rose said, looking him square in the eye. “Go ahead and eat your dinner. I’m going upstairs to shower. Hurry, and you just might get dessert to go with that meal,” she said flirtatiously. Hughes didn’t need an interpreter to know what his wife was getting at. He usually took his time eating a meal, but not tonight. So far, he hadn’t gotten lucky investigating the case, but he was about to get lucky in other ways.

  47

  Detective Milton Hughes pulled in front of Marie Snyder’s house and parked. The smile on his face was nearly bright enough to light up the entire street. It had been awhile since he and his wife had enjoyed such a passionate night. For one night, at least, Rose was able to get her husband to forget about the crime going on in the city of Cleveland and enjoy himself. Hughes continued to smile as he reached into a McDonald’s bag and pulled out a breakfast sandwich. He un-wrapped it and took a couple of bites before picking up the small cup of coffee. He had just scoffed down the last of his food when his partner, Shelton Phillips, pulled up behind him. Although Phillips had requested that his partner pick him up, Hughes declined. He had no desire to play chauffer to his partner today.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror and watched as Phillips got out of his vehicle, stretched his limbs, and looked around. After doing so, he made his way to the driver’s door and tapped lightly on the window. Hughes took his time acknowledging him as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. After shaking one out and sticking it between his lips, he opened the door and got out.

  “Got a light?” he asked his partner.

  “Hell no. You know I don’t smoke,” Phillips said with a frown. He noticed the look on his partner’s face and inquired about it. “What the hell are you so happy about?”

  “Let’s just say that I had a good time with my wife last night.”

  “I guess so,” Phillips said, an uncertain look on his face. “I still don’t think we’re going to find anything, though. Like I said yesterday, we’ve gone over that room with a fine-tooth comb and didn’t find shit. I don’t know why you think today is going to be any different.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. But we owe it to Captain Snyder to do everything we can to bring her husband’s killer to justice. Now let’s go.” Hughes took one last drag off his cigarette and dropped the remainder of it to the pavement. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out two pairs of latex gloves. He handed one pair to Phillips and pulled the other pair onto his hands. The two detectives then made their way to Marie Snyder’s front door.

  After letting themselves in, the detectives began looking over the same places they had examined the previous day. Thirty minutes later, they still hadn’t found anything. Hughes ran his hand down the front of his face. He was becoming increasingly frustrated.

  “I hate to say I told you so, but–––”

  “Shut up, Phillips! Just keep looking!” Hughes snapped.

  “Yeah all right,” Phillips said, rolling his eyes. The detectives searched for ten additional minutes before something occurred to Hughes. A loud roar emitted from his throat.

  “The hell are you laughing at?” Phillips asked.

  “My fr
iend, we have been going about this all wrong. We’ve been looking inside this house or the better part of two days. Not one time have we searched around the perimeter of it.”

  “Damn . . . You’re right. I’ll get right on it,” Phillips said and headed for the front door. He was gone for a little over five minutes before he came back with a large smile on his face. Hughes looked at him and cracked a smile of his own.

  “From that shit-eating grin on your face, I take it you found something?”

  “Absolutely,” Phillips said, holding up a brown wallet.

  “Where’d you find that?”

  “On the right side of the house, lying on the ground, under the window.”

  A curious look fell across Hughes’s face. He walked over to the window Phillips was referring to and lifted it up. Surprisingly, it opened without resistance. Hughes was slightly baffled. He was almost sure that he’d personally checked that window when he was here the previous day.

  “You know, I could have sworn that this window was locked yesterday.”

  “Well, apparently, you were wrong. To me, it looks like the killer murdered Donald, made his escape by climbing through the window, and dropped his wallet on the ground.”

  Hughes stared at the window for a few seconds before shrugging his shoulders and turning his attention back to Phillips. Maybe he had made a mistake.

  “Did you check inside?” he asked.

  “Not yet. I figured you’d want to find out who the low-life scum was together.”

  Hughes smiled as he walked toward Phillips.

  “You got that right. Open it up.”

  Phillips nodded as he flipped open the wallet. As soon as they laid eyes on the driver’s license, their mouths dropped open. A lump formed in Hughes’s throat. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him.

  “This has to be a mistake,” Hughes said, pulling out credit cards and reading the name on them.

  “Not according to the name on these credit cards in here. As much as I hate to admit it. Donald Snyder’s murderer is one of our own.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions, Phillips. There are other reasons that Jordan’s wallet would be lying where it was.”

  “Such as?”

  “He could’ve walked around the perimeter like you just did.”

  “Well, it looks like we’re just going to have to find out if that’s true or not, aren’t we?”

  “I guess we do, partner. I guess we do.”

  48

  When Detective Stone dropped his kids off at school, he was slightly surprised to see Principal Ponder walking out of the building and heading toward his car. He glanced in the rearview mirror just in time to see Rhonda rolling her eyes.

  “Here comes your girlfriend,” she mumbled.

  Stone turned around and glared at his daughter.

  “What did you just say?” he asked.

  “Nothing, Dad.”

  “Little girl, you’d better mind your manners! I’m not going to tolerate any disrespect! Get out of this car and get your behind in that school!”

  Armed with an attitude, Rhonda pulled the door latch and pushed the door open. Frank Jr. made to join her, but his father stopped him.

  “Hold up a second, Jr. What the devil is your sister’s problem?”

  “Come on Dad. You know exactly what her problem is. She’s afraid that you’re going to forget about Mom and start dating Miss. Ponder.”

  Frank Sr. ran his hand down his face. He couldn’t understand why his daughter was so worried about such a thing. He loved his wife, and no matter how attractive he thought Miss Ponder was, he was not about to break his marital vows with his wife.

  “Lord have mercy. Son, nothing is going on between me and your principal. I’ve told your sister that before.”

  Frank Jr. eyed his father curiously. He wanted to believe him, but he couldn’t help but notice the way his father looked at his principal.

  “Are you sure Dad? I mean, nothing is going on between you and Miss Ponder?”

  “Yes, son. I’m sure. I love your mother with all my heart, and no woman will ever come between that. Now, do I find her attractive? Yes, I do. But that has absolutely nothing to do with the love I have for your mother. No one will ever take her place.”

  “That’s good to hear Dad. I’ll talk to Rhonda and see if I can get through to her.”

  “Thanks, son. I appreciate that.”

  “No problem Dad. In the meantime, you need to make sure that Miss Ponder knows that you’re a happily married man. See you at home.”

  As Frank Jr. got out of the car, Miss Ponder was just now making her way around to the driver’s side.

  “Good morning, young man.”

  “Good morning Miss Ponder.” Frank Jr. gave his father a quick glance before heading into the building. Frank Sr. rolled down the window and greeted her.

  “Good morning Miss Ponder. Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Good morning. I just thought I’d let you know that Yolonda Green has decided that she’s not going to sue anyone.”

  “Well, I’m glad that she’s finally come to her senses. The only thing she would have accomplished is wasting the court’s time.”

  An awkward silence hung in the air as the two of them stared at each other for a few seconds. Grace Ponder was just about to say something when a loud sounding bell interrupted her.

  “Well, duty calls,” she said, smiling.

  “I hear you. I’m on the way to the office myself.”

  “Okay. It was nice to see you again, Detective Stone. Take care,” Grace said as she walked away.

  As he watched her walk back towards the building, Frank reached down and grabbed his wedding band. A wave of guilt surged through him as he thought about his wife. Although he hadn’t done anything immoral, it weighed on him that he found another woman other than his wife attractive. Thoughts of his wedding day slid through his mind as he raised his wedding band to his mouth and kissed it. After taking one last glance at Grace Ponder, Frank pulled away from the curb and headed to the precinct.

  49

  When Detective Stone got to the precinct, he was surprised to see Captain Snyder’s car sitting in the parking lot. From the information that he’d received, she was scheduled to be out on leave for at least the next two days. Just as he cut the engine, Amber pulled into the space next to him. She gave Frank a curious look when she too noticed their boss’s car sitting there.

  “What the hell is she doing here?” Amber asked after the two of them got out of their vehicles.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Frank answered. “Deputy Chief William Clark didn’t exactly tell her how long she had to stay out.”

  “It still seems weird to me though . . . unless there’s something we don’t know about yet.”

  “Hmmm. I wonder if there’s been a break in the case.”

  “That wouldn’t have anything to do with the captain though. There’s no way she would be allowed to work on her own case.”

  “I know that, Detective. But I’m sure that if something broke, they wouldn’t keep it from her.”

  “Well, let’s go inside and see, partner.” Amber grabbed Frank by the arm and guided him toward the entrance. By the time they’d made it inside the building, he realized that she’d been massaging his bicep the entire way there. Frank cut his eyes at Amber, who in turn ignored him. As they approached Marie’s office, Frank smoothly pulled his arm out of Amber’s hold. The last thing he needed was for anyone to think that any improprieties going on.

  “Come in, Detectives,” Deputy Chief Clark said, waving them in.

  Frank held the door open for Amber and then followed her in. By the looks on the faces of everyone sitting in the room, Frank knew that there had to have been a break in the case. He looked around and saw that Carla Johnson and Ryan Turner were also in attendance.

  “Good morning, Captain, Deputy Chief. What’s going on?”

  Before either of them could answer, Hughe
s and Phillips made their way into the office. In Hughes’s hand was a small bag carrying Timothy Jordan’s wallet. He slowly made his way across the room and set the bag down on Marie’s desk.

  “What’s that?” Amber asked.

  “That, my dear partner, is a wallet we found outside of Captain Snyder’s window this morning,” Hughes said.

  A bad feeling started to settle in the pit of Frank’s stomach. Had this been an ordinary situation, the deputy chief would not be there. Something major was going on. Hughes opened the bag and took out the wallet. He glanced around at his fellow officers for a brief second before opening the wallet and taking out the driver’s license. All eyes were glued to the identification as he laid if face up on the desk. Captain Snyder stared at it with fire in her eyes.

  “So let me get this straight. Are you telling me that Officer Timothy Jordan killed my husband?” Marie said, seething.

  “We really don’t want to jump to that conclusion just yet ma’am.”

  “The hell do you mean, you don’t want to jump to that conclusion? Can you think of any other reason that his wallet would beat my place?”

  “Calm down Marie. I’m very sorry about what happened to your husband, but don’t forget that you’re here as a courtesy. You are in no way involved in this investigation whatsoever,” the Deputy Chief reminded her.

  “Sorry, sir,” Marie said and sat back in her chair. Seeing the look on her face caused him to soften his stance.

  “No, I’m sorry, Marie. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. Trust me though. If this Timothy Jordan is responsible for your husband’s death, we’ll nail his ass to the wall. By him being a cop, however, we’re going to have to tread lightly on this. I’m sure once we bring him in, he’s going to want to have his union rep present. Captain, can you think of any reason this Timothy Jordan would want to see your husband dead?”