Poplar Falls

by Arseneault, Pierre C;

  “I’m not following you,” Dodge said.

  “Calvin had the files hacked long ago. He lied about not having them all hacked. But I saw no harm in that since I needed him to view the content and I knew that’s what he was doing anyway. To be honest, I’m not sure why he lied about that part but I sort of went along with it.”

  “What do you mean, sorta went along with it?” Tilley asked.

  “Well, in the beginning I needed him on the tech stuff since I had so much potential evidence to go over. Plus, there was so much of it. The homemade porn. And I could tell he was getting pretty stressed out about it all, but I thought that was just because we teased him about watching Charlie Baker’s porn,” Lemkie said. “Either way, I knew he was going through the files, compiling pictures and lists. He had done a good chunk of the files on the portable hard drives, but you have to understand that Charlie had four cameras in his place. That means potentially four videos for each of his rendezvous,” Lemkie added.

  “So you were monitoring him?” Dodge asked.

  “Of course,” Lemkie replied in a sarcastic tone. “I am his boss, after all. But the Panty Bandit fingerprints on the laptop threw me right off, I have to admit.”

  “Which reminds me,” Dodge said, glancing at Tilley as he continued speaking to Lemkie. “I have to tell you about that.”

  Lemkie looked puzzled at that statement but went on. “Anyway, I have to admit I started worrying about Calvin’s work on this case when I found vomit in the lab. And I was going to say something to you guys but wanted to keep this hush-hush until I knew for sure.”

  “For sure?” Tilley asked.

  “For sure that it was him who leaked the Lucy Shaffer video,” Lemkie replied.

  “What?” Dodge replied.

  “I think Lucy’s agent paid him to do it,” Lemkie added. “But I need proof. Besides, I’m worried that if that got out then the rest of the case would be considered contaminated, so I kept that to myself for now.”

  “Good idea,” Dodge replied.

  “Also, I noticed something odd today which I was going to ask him about, but he sprang this on me before I could,” Lemkie said. “I noticed he deleted Stella Rubbin from the list of suspects. He deleted the videos of her, too.”

  “You know this how?” Tilley asked.

  “How do you want me to forget that list of women?” he said with a smirk. “Besides, I made back up copies of all the files long ago just to be sure. The Stella videos are gone from his folders, but I still have copies.”

  Dodge looked at him with his usual raised eyebrow look that exuded confusion.

  “I was looking through the files, trying to come up with a way to ask him about the hacked files. I’m pretty sure he used a USB, but being the computer wiz he is he covered his tracks well. I know the hack story is bullshit. Just like the story about taking this long to hack all the videos.”

  “Good to know,” Tilley replied. “Well, we should probably go track down Trudy Wilkins since we now know she’s the one who murdered Charlie Baker.”

  “True,” Dodge replied as he got up.

  “Not so fast,” Lemkie said as he looked at Dodge. “You mentioned you had something to tell me about the prints on the laptop.”

  “Oh, right.”

  Dodge left the room and returned a moment later with an empty whiskey bottle in a plastic bag. He placed this on the desk as he spoke. “I just want to eliminate any possibility that I’m wrong on this one before I say anything else. Run the prints on this and let me know what you find.”

  “Panty Bandit fingerprints?” Lemkie asked.

  Dodge shrugged. “You tell me.”

  “What’s with the paper in the bottle?” Lemkie asked.

  “If the prints do belong to the Panty Bandit, and only then, read the note,” Dodge replied. “This will tell you who killed Colonel Mustard in the library with the lead pipe.”

  Lemkie shook his head, as he didn’t have a clue what Dodge was rambling about, but he assumed that he was telling him the note would reveal the identity of the Panty Bandit.

  58

  The large black feline named Odessa purred and rubbed itself on Mavis’ leg as the old woman stood transfixed on the small covered porch of her modest little house. Mavis had a cordless phone pressed against her ear as she watched the commotion unfold next door through her thick glasses. In the driveway of the small bungalow, with the perfectly manicured cedar bushes, were a red sports car, a truck, and now a white car, which must have arrived without Mavis noticing. Mavis had no idea what kinds they were, only that the red one was snazzy, the truck big, and the white one looked practical, she had said to Emma who was on the other end of the phone.

  The little house had been put up for sale with Red Realty. She had found this out a week prior from that nice man named Dave who put up the sign. Mavis had bribed the nice man with homemade raisin cookies. Afterwards, Emma had told her that Dave was the man rumoured to be sleeping with Vernon. But today, Mavis had heard screaming and had been afraid to go outside and see what it was about. Instead she called her friend Emma, who quickly insisted that she have some balls and go outside; how else was Mavis going to tell Emma everything that was going on next door. Reluctantly, Mavis went and now she stood on her porch, cordless phone to her ear as she spoke to her friend.

  “Admit it, you cheating bitch!” Trudy Wilkins shouted.

  A large man in a Hawaiian shirt stood on the stone walkway between her and the porch where Marci Grant stood.

  “Whoa, lady, calm down,” the man said.

  Marci Grant stood on the covered porch with a short round woman, who looked frightened and uncomfortable.

  “Go home, Trudy,” Marci said. “We’ll talk when I get home.”

  “You’re going to deny it to my face, aren’t you?” Trudy shouted as she tried to get past the big man and halfway succeeded. The large man spun around and grasped Trudy, wrapping his large hands around her upper arms. She struggled to lurch forward but he held her in place with very little effort.

  “Calm down, lady,” he said.

  Mavis, while still on her porch, reported to Emma what she was seeing.

  “The crazy blonde woman,” Emma said in reply. “She’s that lesbian lawyer. She and the real-estate lady, Marci, are lovers.”

  “I wish I was young again,” Mavis said into the phone. “That Marci Grant woman is hot.”

  For a moment Emma went silent, shocked at first, but then laughed. Emma had just learned something new about her friend but would forget about it again, with all the excitement. She would only recall it months later at a Naughty Knitters meeting.

  “You were fucking him, weren’t you?” Trudy shouted at Marci.

  “What are you talking about?” Marci asked.

  “That asshole, Charlie!” Trudy replied.

  “Are you kidding me??” Marci shouted, as the short round woman next to her shrank and took a step back in fear.

  “Lady, I don’t want to hurt you,” the big man said.

  “I don’t care how big his dick was,” Marci said, who was cut off before she could continue.

  “Then why were you going to see him?” Trudy asked, who had stopped struggling against the big man’s grip.

  “He was gonna buy a house,” Marci replied. “I sell houses, remember that?”

  “You were fucking him,” Trudy replied. “I know his type all too well.”

  “I sell houses, which is something you should know because that’s how we met. Look, Trudy, this jealousy has got to stop,” Marci said, her voice raised in anger.

  “I love you and this is how you treat me,” Trudy replied, who tried unsuccessfully to yank one of her arms free. She glanced back at the large man who was starting to sweat. “Let me go!” she said firmly, as if it was a last warning.

  “If you calm down, sure,” t
he large man said, in a calm, soothing voice.

  “I’ve never cheated on you,” Marci replied. “Lord knows I could have, but I didn’t.”

  “Fuck you!” Trudy shouted. “Why don’t you love me like I love you?”

  Mavis reported back to Emma, who was standing on her own porch now, agitated and asking what was happening.

  “Tell me!” Emma barked at Mavis, who was doing her best to fill her in on all the juicy gossip.

  “Oh, they must be hot in the sack, those two,” Mavis blurted before she realized what she had said.

  “What’s happening?” Emma replied frantically. “Oh, you need to get one of those fancy phones that takes video.”

  Mavis filled her in on how the large man held the crazy blonde back so she wouldn’t kill the sexy redhead. Mavis told Emma other neighbours were watching, too, now. Emma muttered a few curses at this, since now the gossip would spread too fast.

  “Loving you isn’t enough for you,” Marci replied. “And I’m sorry if I’m not dead and notice other women.”

  “If you really did love me like you say you do, then I’d be enough for you,” Trudy replied as she began struggling against the large man again.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” Marci replied. “You need help!”

  “What? How dare you say that I…I need help, you fucking horny cunt!” Trudy shouted as she fiercely tugged at the big man’s grasp.

  “Miss Grant,” the large man said. “I think you better go inside. You, too, honey,” he said to his wife.

  Trudy leaned forward, tugging against the big man’s grip as she stomped her fancy three-inch heel down on the top of his foot. The man screamed in pain and his grip on Trudy’s arms began to slip.

  “Oh fuck!” Mavis exclaimed to Emma. “She done did it now, that crazy bitch.”

  “What? What’d she do?” Emma asked exuberantly.

  Mavis explained how Trudy had stomped on the big man. Her explanations were rushed and garbled as the excitement got the better of her. The big man looked like he was hurting, Mavis relayed to Emma.

  Marci took a step back and rushed through the front door of the bungalow, quickly followed by the short round woman who was huffing, out of breath from the exertion. Marci shut the screen door and locked it before closing the ornate solid wooden door behind it and locking it, too. She turned to see the short round woman had dug out what she assumed was an asthma pump and was wheezing between puffs.

  Trudy lifted her foot, readying herself to stomp again, when the big man chose to release the crazy little blonde woman.

  “Oh shit,” Mavis blurted to Emma. “He let her go.”

  “Who?” Emma asked.

  “The big man in the Hawaiian shirt,” Mavis replied. “Shit’s gonna get realistic now. That’s what the kids say,” Mavis blurted.

  Odessa moved from between the old lady’s feet, narrowly avoiding being stepped on in the excitement. The black cat hopped up onto the wide wood railing of the porch and sat before Mavis, who absentmindedly petted her as she excitedly regaled Emma with the events as they unfolded.

  “I think everyone in town has lost their minds,” Mavis said to Emma.

  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” Emma blurted.

  “You and your patient confidentiality bullshit,” Mavis replied. “You love rubbing it in that you have all these juicy stories you say you won’t tell the Naughty Knitters.”

  “What’s happening now?” Emma asked, deflecting Mavis’s rant about her keeping all the best gossip to herself.

  Trudy turned to face the man, expecting him to be coming at her, to grab her again. Instead she watched as he raised his hands up, palms out in a gesture of surrender. The pained expression on his face and limp said he was still getting over the crushing heel to the top of his foot. Trudy climbed the few steps to the porch, stomping her feet as she did.

  “Come out here, you bitch!” Trudy shouted.

  Marci and the short round woman backed away from the door.

  The large man in the Hawaiian shirt staggered slightly and pulled out a cell phone from his pocket. He gasped for air as beads of sweat ran down his face. He dialled 911 as he put his free hand on his chest and the phone to his ear.

  “Small bungalow on Peach Street,” he said as soon as the operator had picked up.

  Trudy tried opening the screen door but it was locked. She looked around the porch, unsure of what to do next. In a frantic move she picked up the cheap metal-and-canvas chair that was on the small covered porch and bashed at the screen door with the chair legs. The glass resonated but took the blow. She hit it a second time as she shouted.

  “Get out here, you bitch! Talk to me!”

  Odessa, frightened by the bashing on the door, dropped off the railing and quickly entered the house through a cat door and found one of her favourite hiding places while Mavis watched on, relating all the details to Emma.

  The large man in the Hawaiian shirt grasped his chest harder, closing his eyes tight to try and stop the sweat from running into his eyes and blinding him as he spoke.

  “Peach Street,” he repeated as he struggled to remember the house number. “I’m having a heart attack and some crazy bitch is trying to kill our real-estate agent.” He then proceeded to drop to his knees before falling forward; he lay half on the sidewalk and half on the lawn.

  “Oh, fuck!” Mavis blurted to Emma. “I think he’s dead.”

  “Who?” Emma shouted in frustration. “Who’s dead?”

  “The man in the Hawaiian shirt; he grabbed his chest and fell over face first,” Mavis added. “I think I need to hang up and call 911.”

  “Don’t you frickin dare, you old witch!” Emma exclaimed. “You tell me what’s going on.”

  And Mavis did just that.

  Trudy broke the glass of the screen door on her fifth attempt and then began bashing at the solid interior door as both Marci and the short round woman grasped at each other in fear.

  Mavis noticed that a few other neighbours now were taking videos as she updated Emma. Moments later a police cruiser arrived, followed by an ambulance. The paramedics tended to the large man as the young uniformed officer drew his Taser and radioed for backup.

  Mavis couldn’t see as well now from this vantage point and had to argue with Emma, who wanted Mavis to get closer to get a better look. Mavis reminded Emma that she was an old woman and could get hurt, although Emma seemed more concerned with not missing a bit of the action. Mavis moved enough to get a better look but refused to get off her own porch.

  Trudy took a step back from the door, oblivious to what was happening behind her as she decided the battered chair was no match for the solid wooden door. Instead she decided to attack the window a few feet away from the door. She never did hear the young officer as he hollered for her to show me your hands as he came up behind her. As she swung the chair back, readying to strike the window, the chair back struck the officer in the face, breaking his nose and causing his grip to tighten on the trigger on his Taser, shooting Trudy, the twin darts hitting her on the lower back and buttocks. The shock was too late to stop Trudy, as she had already flung the chair into the window, breaking it and sending shards of glass flying into the house, cutting up the window’s sheer curtain in the process. Trudy convulsed from the shock of the Taser as the officer grasped at his face with his free hand, jolts of pain shooting through the officer’s head as tears filled his eyes. He staggered backwards and fell off the porch, toppling over a stair rail and landing in one of the perfectly manicured cedar bushes. During his fall backwards he had released the Taser to try and grasp at something. With the Taser trigger now released, Trudy collapsed on the floor of the covered porch and twitched from the after-effects.

  Now Mavis stood speechless on her own porch, her thick glasses having slipped to the tip of her nose as Emma was frantically asking her what w
as going on, over and over.

  “Mavis?” Emma said. “You there? Ester’s the deaf one, not you… Hello?”

  In that moment, Mavis accidentally hung up on Emma when she fumbled the phone. Moments later, the phone rang with a frantic Emma on the other end of the call, demanding to know what was going on.

  Only after the commotion next door had completely calmed did Odessa eventually reappear from hiding and leave through the cat door, the same way she had come not so long ago.

  “Tell me the part where he shot her again,” Emma said as she giggled.

  “He used one of them Tasers,” Mavis replied. “Oh, Lord, that was funny, now that I think about it.”

  Both ladies burst into fits of giggles just as Mavis accidentally hung up on Emma again. This time Mavis would call Emma back and it would take her the better part of an hour to recap what she had seen unfold next door to her modest little home.

  59

  “Did you hear?” Lemkie asked as he dropped into the chair across from Detective Dodge’s desk. While sitting in front of Dodge, he pivoted the chair to face Detective Tilley who sat at her own desk.

  “Okay, I’ll bite,” Dodge said. “Hear what?”

  “Sam called from Elder’s Funeral Parlor and claimed the body,” Lemkie replied.

  “Vernon’s?” Tilley asked.

  “Charlie Baker’s” Lemkie replied.

  “I don’t get it,” Dodge replied.

  “Me neither,” Tilley replied.

  “You love doing this, don’t you?” Dodge asked, referring to how Lemkie always stretched out conversations when he had something new to tell them.