Poplar Falls
The Death of Charlie Baker
ISBN: 978-1-932926-70-5
LCCN: 2018908332
Copyright © 2019 by Pierre C. Arseneault
Cover Design: Angella Cormier
Cover Photo: Pierre C. Arseneault
Author Photo: Gerard Gaudet
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without written permission of the publisher, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
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Poplar Falls
The Death of Charlie Baker
by
Pierre C. Arseneault
Other titles by Pierre C. Arseneault are:
Dark Tales for Dark Nights, a collection of six short stories written in collaboration with Angella Jacob (Cormier).
Sleepless Nights, a collection of nine short stories.
Oakwood Island, a novel written in collaboration with Angella Cormier.
This book is for all those who told me they didn’t like reading scary books. This one’s for you.
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Magnolia Wellness and Rehabilitation Centre Manager
June
1
Standing at the foot of the bed, a salt-and-pepper-haired Senior Detective Franklin Dodge elbowed his partner as if to say, Look at that. The much younger Detective Roxanne Tilley just stared on in disbelief.
“I didn’t think that was possible,” Detective Tilley said in a hushed tone while shifting her stance a little. Her facial expression was riddled with embarrassment, which her dark skin somewhat hid from her partner, who was clearly observing her reaction. She shifted uncomfortably and tugged at the collar of her white blouse under the grey feminine suit jacket.
“I guess it is,” Dodge replied, sounding unsure even though the evidence stood before them. He wore faded jeans with a battered suit jacket and his face was flushed. He tugged at his shirt collar and loosened his tie a little in an attempt to cool off. The hot June morning sun shone through the sheer curtains, making the room warm, but under the circumstances it felt even warmer, as being uncomfortably embarrassed can have that effect on anyone.
On the bed before them lay the naked body of one Charlie Baker. Spread-eagled, flat on his back, with hands and legs bound with heavy silk ropes to the metal four-post bed frame. His torso was concealed under a thin, off-white silk blanket. His Caucasian skin had the grey hue of death to it. A crumpled pillow rested on his face, making it obvious that he had been smothered to death while he tugged at his bonds. Rigor mortis had set in before they found him, and Charlie was as stiff as a piece of mahogany. Every inch of him was stiff, from head to toe, including his much larger than average penis, which was creating an unusually large tent out of the thin silk blanket.
“You mind telling me why this Agatha called you directly instead of calling 911?” Dodge asked as he glanced at Tilley before turning back to the uncomfortable scene before them.
“I thought I told you already,” Detective Tilley replied. “She’s my great-aunt on my mother’s side.”
“Right,” Dodge replied. He often forgot that Roxanne’s mother was white. Her dark brown skin was from her father. And while he knew of the older landlady from his original stint at apartment hunting before he purchased a house, he didn’t know that Agatha was related to Tilley. He made a mental note to ask her about that later. “The murder just happens to be at your great-aunt’s place,” he said, smirking. “That’s great!”
“She owns apartments all over town,” Detective Tilley replied, and she smiled smugly, as if the great detective should have known this. “I think you forget that I’m from Poplar Falls.”
“True enough,” Dodge replied. He hadn’t forgotten that Tilley was from Poplar Falls; how could he? It seemed like she knew everybody from this little city. He turned his attention from the body on the bed and looked around the apartment. It was large for a one-room, open-concept bachelor pad. Big curtained windows let in much of the summer sunlight, but the sheer curtains weren’t enough to provide privacy, thought Dodge. The only other room was a good-sized bathroom at the back of the apartment which they had checked upon entering to ensure no one else was there. The apartment was messy, for the most part, with clean and dirty clothes strewn about on the floor as well as draped over the furniture. Empty food containers sat in various strange locations around the apartment. A stack of dirty containers sat on and underneath a kitchen chair, as if he had gathered some in a pile. The kitchenette’s counter wasn’t visible under the mess of even more food containers, dirty dishes, and casserole dishes. Dodge had the sneaking suspicion that those casserole dishes weren’t Charlie’s.
On a small kitchen table were porn magazines and DVDs of the same genre. Charlie wasn’t very discreet, Dodge reflected. He assumed that Charlie might have had company often enough, as it was obvious no woman lived here, yet on the floor were a pair of women’s shoes, size six or seven from the looks of them. He glanced at the body and back to the shoes and assessed that they were too small to belong to Charlie. Sexy red heels. Plus, some of the casserole dishes where too big for the microwave, and the apartment had no oven in its kitchenette.
“Lemkie and Calvin should be here later this morning,” Tilley said, referring to the Poplar Falls crime scene investigators. She was still mesmerized by the scene before her and hadn’t moved from the foot of the bed. Neither had Dodge.
Dodge turned to look at his partner again and cleared his throat before speaking. “Did you ask her yet?”
“We just got here maybe ten minutes ago,” Roxanne replied. “What I wonder is how the hell anyone is going to make sense out of anything in this mess.”
Dodge pointed to the nightstand. “That explains the tent pole.”
Tilley finally pulled her eyes away from said tent pole where she had been staring, fascinated by the shape of the large tip. Her attention went to the half-empty bottle of pills which sat precariously perched on the edge of the nightstand.
At that very moment, the doorbell rang and startled both detectives. The bell-like chime rang a second time, resonating throughout the small apartment. The detectives glanced at each other in confusion. They hadn’t shut the door but remembered hearing it close behind them as they had entered. Perhaps a draft had closed it, thought Dodge as he shrugged and gestured for Tilley to take the l
ead.
“What if it’s the killer?” Tilley asked with an obvious air of sarcasm.
“Really?” Dodge replied with a grin as he played along. “I doubt the killer would bother with the doorbell.”
With a hand on the butt of her gun, Tilley peered through the peephole in the solid wooden door. Glancing back at Dodge with apparent confusion on her face, she moved her hand from her gun to the doorknob. Dodge put his hand on hers to stop her and then pulled back. He had only recently begun to trust his young partner’s instincts, but old habits die hard. Tilley didn’t bother to unlock the deadbolt. A broken piece of the doorframe still clung to the hardware as she opened the door. This was courtesy of Dodge’s now-sore shoulder.
2
Detective Tilley opened the door to see a woman she knew well, standing outside on the second-floor balcony in the morning sunlight. The woman’s gaze was cast down as she fiddled nervously with her long, beige overcoat. Before anyone could say anything the woman flung open the coat, revealing a very skimpy, lace-trimmed, blue teddy which barely covered her curvaceous body. A look of shock washed over all three of them as the woman realized she had flashed someone other than the intended Charlie Baker. Dodge’s mouth was slightly agape as he took in the curvy woman’s private peepshow clearly not intended for them.
“Ms. Weatherbee!” Detective Tilley exclaimed in shock.
The clearly-embarrassed woman closed the overcoat tightly around her body. Her face flushed a deep red with humiliation as she spun around and sprinted off the stoop, down the steps. The shocked detectives stood speechless at first.
“Wait!” Dodge shouted, but it was too late as the woman jumped into a small blue hatchback and drove away. He turned to his partner and asked, “You know her?”
“That was my fifth-grade teacher,” Detective Tilley replied.
“I wish my fifth-grade teacher had looked like that,” Dodge replied. “Puberty would have been a much different experience for me.” Dodge had a flash of memory of old, crusty, grey-haired Mr. Martin, his fifth-grade teacher, and shuddered at the thought.
They watched the car disappear as it rounded a corner at breakneck speed, just in time to avoid the oncoming police cruiser—the first one to arrive on the scene.
“It’s okay,” Tilley replied. “I know where she lives.”
Dodge started chuckling at the whole thing while Tilley tried to remain serious but failed. Everyone in town, including his partner at times, still treated him like he had just moved here, even though it had been over two years already. He considered this a good thing since knowing too much about someone you might be investigating can alter your perception. But he would never tell his partner this since she was from Poplar Falls, and was convinced that knowing people well would make her a better detective. But right at this moment he wouldn’t even admit to himself that he was glad she was a local since she knew this Ms. Weatherbee
3
Two hours later, the large gravel parking lot was surrounded by yellow police tape, an obvious crime scene to all who happened by, which meant rumours were now rampant all over town and on social media. A small crowd had gathered to try and catch a glimpse of what was going on so they could spread the gossip. A few reporters had joined the crowd and everybody was snapping pictures and taking video with their smartphones. Many were already posting pictures on Facebook and Twitter for the entire world to see, hoping for their videos to go viral.
Dodge climbed out of his old, rusty Ford Escape with a tray of coffees. He handed them to the paramedics who were waiting outside by their ambulance. Clearly, they had assessed that they were not needed here, as Charlie was long dead. “The captain’s gonna love this,” Tilley said to Dodge as she examined the growing throng of spectators.
Dodge handed a coffee to Tilley and took the last one as he glanced around to make sure nobody could overhear them.
“Did you have a chance to ask her about the key to the deadbolt yet?” Dodge inquired.
“Yes, although I didn’t really get to talk to her much,” Tilley replied.
“So?” Dodge asked as he sipped coffee.
“She didn’t seem to know about it,” Tilley said. “I’m pretty sure it’s something Charlie installed himself.”
“That would explain why Agatha only gave you a key for the door handle and not the deadbolt,” Dodge replied. “But that doesn’t explain how she knew he was dead if she didn’t have a key to get into his place.”
“True,” Detective Tilley replied knowingly. “And she did say he was dead and not in trouble when she called me.” Tilley sipped her coffee. “Dead was definitely the word she used.”
Dodge turned back and watched the crime scene investigators arriving, which caused a flurry of rubberneckers to lift their smartphones and take more pictures. Dodge scanned the crowd and recognized a few familiar faces.
“You know much about this Charlie Baker?” Dodge asked.
“From what my aunt told me, he always paid his rent in cash and had only been living in town for seven months.”
Dodge grinned as he spoke. “For a sweet old lady, she looked pissed when Roger took her in.”
Tilley couldn’t help but smile at the thought and then looked around to see if anyone had seen her do so. Worse, had they taken her picture? Perhaps even filming them, taking video.
“I figured it best if a patrolman took her in instead of me. Since she’s my aunt and all,” Tilley said.
“Yeah,” Dodge replied. “Best to play it safe, but somehow I doubt she’s our killer.”
Detective Tilley laughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, and looked around to see if anyone had heard her, especially those reporters.
4
Hours later, both detectives stood next to the bathroom door of Charlie Baker’s apartment as they watched the lead crime scene investigator, Lemkie, bagging what looked like used tampons from the bathroom floor next to the trashcan. Once that was done, he carefully slid the trashcan and all its contents into a large bag and sealed it shut.
“I’m not taking any chances,” Lemkie stated. “There might be something in there that’s important.”
“Did you see how many condom wrappers were in that trashcan?” Tilley asked.
“His sex life was better than mine,” Dodge remarked.
“Yours, mine, and Tilley’s combined,” Lemkie replied.
“Well, you’re married,” Dodge said to Lemkie. “Yours is over.”
“Yeah, no comment,” Tilley murmured.
Dodge glanced at her with a knowing smile. At least he thought he knew since he lived across the street from Tilley and never saw any other vehicles at her place. Although she could say the same thing about him, as he also never had visitors. But she didn’t need to know about his friend who lived within walking distance.
“You wanted to see us?” Dodge asked, trying to get back on track.
“I wanted to show you this,” Lemkie replied as he led the detectives out of the washroom. They walked past crime scene investigator Calvin, the one a lot of people still referred to as the new kid, even though he’d been there almost as long as Dodge. He was in the process of cutting and bagging the silk ropes that had held Charlie in place while he was murdered.
Lemkie led the detectives to a shelf against a wall while he spoke. “When you told me that the door was locked with a deadbolt and Agatha didn’t have a key to give you, I wondered how she could have known he was lying here dead.”
“We were wondering that ourselves,” Dodge said, subconsciously rubbing the tender shoulder he’d used to bash in the door.
“Well, I remembered you saying she lived next door.” Lemkie took a pen from his pocket and moved a cheap painting of a landscape aside to better reveal what he had discovered. Between the shelf and the painting was a small peephole, not much bigger than the pen Lemkie was holding.
&nbs
p; “I guess that explains how Aunt Agatha knew Charlie was dead,” Dodge said, and he smirked and glanced at his partner who was flustered with embarrassment. After all, Aunt Agatha lived in the apartment next door to Charlie and the peephole had to be hers.
“Sure,” Lemkie replied. “But that’s nothing. Check this out.” Using his pen again, he pointed to a book on the shelf. He pointed to a black circle and looked at Tilley, anticipating a reaction as he explained what was obvious to him. “It’s a camera.”
“Well, now—Aunt Agatha’s full of surprises,” Dodge said.
“No,” Lemkie replied. “Not Agatha. These were his. They had to be.”
Lemkie walked past Calvin, who had stopped what he was doing and was watching them intensely. Lemkie pointed to a bizarre statue of a rabbit that was perched atop the television on a stand in a corner.
Dodge laughed abruptly and everyone glared at him.
“Rabbit ears for better reception,” Dodge said, which made Calvin scratch his head and Tilley smile. Lemkie ignored him. This reminded Dodge how much older than everyone else he was and his grin quickly vanished.
“Another camera,” Lemkie said.
“Are they on now?” Tilley asked.
“I don’t think so,” Calvin replied.
Everyone looked at Calvin as he explained. “I think they’re wireless cameras, but my bet is they fed to a laptop or something,” he said as he pointed to a blank space on a shelf. A small remote still sat there but what they assumed was a laptop, from the shape of the dusty imprint, was gone. And the lack of dust in the imprint suggested it had been removed very recently.
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