Poplar Falls

by Arseneault, Pierre C;

  Lemkie smirked as he continued updating the pair of detectives. “Apparently Charlie has a daughter.”

  “A what?” Dodge replied in shock as he looked at Tilley. “Did you know about this?”

  “Nope,” Tilley replied.

  “Apparently, according to Sam, she found out from her mother, who only heard about it all because of the Lucy Shaffer tabloid news about the videos of her and the late Charlie Baker.” Lemkie smiled as he saw the looks of confusion on the detectives’ faces. “Anyway, that’s not important. What is important is that she claimed the body and made the arrangements for a funeral.”

  “A funeral, here… in Poplar Falls?” Tilley asked.

  “Well, she hired Sam to take care of it all,” Lemkie replied. “Apparently, the mother and Charlie were never really a thing, so she couldn’t do it, but his daughter is the only family he had who came forward to claim the remains.”

  “But the funeral will be here in Poplar Falls?” Tilley asked a second time.

  “Apparently so,” Lemkie replied. “Sam said she didn’t ask too many questions. He said he had to convince her to give him a wake, for his friends here in town. She eventually agreed to it and said to give him a simple wake plus funeral and to send her the bill.”

  “Send her the bill,” Tilley said. “I assume that means she won’t be there?”

  “From what I understood, I doubt it,” Lemkie replied.

  “I doubt they were very close,” Dodge added. “It’s not like Charlie Baker was the nicest guy.”

  “I suppose, but…” Lemkie stated.

  “Chances are, if her mother was just a fling like the rest of the women in Charlie Baker’s life, she might not be that fond of her father,” Dodge said.

  “True,” Lemkie replied. “I sorta wonder who the mother is.”

  “Me, too,” Dodge replied.

  “Well, it’s not really that important,” Tilley replied. “Since we know who killed Charlie now.”

  “Speaking of which,” Lemkie replied. “When are you guys picking her up?”

  “I take it you didn’t hear,” Dodge stated with a smirk as he glanced at Tilley. Now he had something that Lemkie didn’t know and found the idea of drawing it out very amusing.

  Tilley frowned at them both, as she disapproved of the game they played. “She was picked up late yesterday for a domestic disturbance.”

  The detectives could see the look of confusion on Lemkie’s face as they explained further.

  “After we watched the video with you, we sent officers to her office downtown to make sure to pick her up before she could fly off to Mexico or something, but she wasn’t there,” Dodge said. “Turns out she was on Peach Street with Marci Grant.”

  “Losing her shit,” Tilley added. “She went to Peach Street to see Marci, gave her client a heart attack while she went crazy.”

  “How do you give someone a heart attack?” Lemkie asked.

  “Those were the paramedic’s words, not mine,” Tilley replied.

  “So, let me get this straight,” Lemkie said. “We’ve got Trudy Wilkins in custody for the murder of Charlie Baker. Plus, we’ve got Sadie Cross in custody for killing her husband, Vernon Cross. Both in holding cells right this minute?”

  “Yes and no,” Tilley replied. “Trudy is here, yes, but still being held on the domestic disturbance charge. We were letting her cool her heels before charging her on the Charlie Baker murder. Sadie Cross is still at the hospital. When she woke up, strapped to a bed at the hospital, she freaked out, went crazy. She was screaming, asking who was going to watch her kids while she went to murder her husband. She tore open the stitches on her arm and became completely hysterical when she saw her own blood.”

  “Wow,” Lemkie replied.

  “So, they’re holding her at the hospital. At least until she’s somewhat back to normal, and then we’ll bring her in,” Tilley added.

  “What a crazy week this is turning out to be,” Lemkie stated.

  “Speaking of crazy,” Dodge said. “Did you get around to asking Calvin about the hacked Lucy Shaffer videos?”

  “Hell no,” Lemkie replied, rolling his eyes. “Sadie killing her husband sort of kept us a little busy.”

  “Speaking of busy, did you run those prints for me yet?” Dodge asked.

  “Not yet. Blame Sadie, she’s the one who picked a bad time to kill her husband,” Lemkie replied. Dodge gave him a look, so he added, “I’m going to run them this morning; unless someone else gets murdered, that is.”

  60

  It was close to ten in the morning and Detective Franklin Dodge stood in front of Walter’s shed, waiting for the firefighters to give him the all-clear to go into the trailer where Walter lived. Earlier that morning, a passing motorist had noticed smoke billowing from the old trailer and had immediately called 911.

  The sun shone into the shed enough for Dodge not to need his pocket flashlight to see the adult-sized tricycle, complete with two wire baskets (front and back). And still hooked to the rear was a small empty trailer cart. This looked odd to Dodge and he wasn’t sure why at first until he realized he was used to seeing it full of bottles and cans. Dodge finally got to see where the simple young man stored it when he wasn’t on his usual route; in this dilapidated shed with the permanently wedged-open door which was half torn off its hinges. Dodge could see enough of the shed to see it was a mess now, but it had probably been organized at some point. Certain things in the back of the shed were neatly stacked, but the rest of it was strewn about in a weird chaotic order that he assumed would have made sense to someone like Walter.

  Dodge checked his Blackberry, but still no missed calls or texts from his partner. He assumed she was probably getting coffee or on her way back to the station. She’d call him back he thought as he watched a firefighter carrying an axe exit the house. There hadn’t been any smoke when Dodge arrived on the scene, as it had already been contained. The firefighters had gotten there just in time to prevent it from turning into a major fire, they had told him. A frayed wire had started smouldering with some plastics melting and had been on the verge of setting the entire place ablaze.

  The fire chief, a short stocky firefighter with a huge mustache, leaned out the door and waved Dodge over. He spoke in a low, growling voice when Dodge approached.

  “You need to see this,” the fire chief said.

  The first thing Dodge noticed was the powerful smell of smoke, garbage, and old sweat. The smell was bad and made him gag as he followed the fire chief. There was garbage strewn about and a path of dirty floor leading straight to the kitchen. Dodge was amazed at the chaos he saw everywhere. After everything he had heard about Walter’s mother, there was no way she would live like this. They walked past a cluttered freezer. On top of the freezer Dodge noticed a scattered pile of papers and junk mail, most of which was unopened. Amidst this was an out of place large, battered box filled with crumpled bills and change. At a glance there looked to be hundreds of dollars in the box, if not more. Walking past the freezer he noticed about half of the kitchen drawers and cupboards were open and looked like they had been that way a long time. Old dishes were strewn about, as well as empty cans of assorted stews. An old trouble light with a smoky burnt bulb hung off a blackened cupboard door. Its wire disappeared under a pile of strewn melted plastic dishes and blackened trash. The area around it looked less blackened, and there were more melted plastic dishes as well. He assumed the light had been the source of the smoke. The fire chief would later confirm his suspicions, as the wire from the old trouble light was badly frayed in some places.

  The fire chief stopped at a doorway and indicated for Dodge to look inside. As Dodge looked into the bedroom, he understood what the stocky mustached man had wanted him to see. In the filthy bed lay the contorted body of a scrawny Walter.

  “Smoke inhalation,” the fire chief said. “I assume it
smouldered a long time before someone noticed and called us.”

  Dodge’s Blackberry rang. He dug it out to see the call was coming from the station. The fire chief walked away as Dodge entered the bedroom while answering the call.

  “Hey,” Dodge said, expecting to hear Tilley on the other end of the call but was surprised when it wasn’t.

  “I just read the note in that whiskey bottle,” Lemkie said. “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious,” Dodge replied as he looked at the body before him.

  “Who else have you told?” Lemkie asked.

  “Just Tilley,” Dodge replied as he stood looking at the scrawny young man. His face was contorted as if he had struggled for breath in the end. “I needed to be sure.”

  “Well, if the prints on the bottle were his, you can be certain now.”

  “Have you seen Tilley?” Dodge asked as he looked around the room and marvelled at the clutter. He pulled his pocket flashlight out and scanned around as he spoke. “I tried calling her but she didn’t pick up.”

  “You going to arrest Walter?” Lemkie asked. “I mean, I know he’s brain-damaged now but, you can’t not, can you?”

  “Now you understand why I wanted to be sure,” Dodge replied as he shone his flashlight into the closet and saw an open cardboard box with purple lacy fabric protruding from it. He peered into the box and saw the proof he needed to solidify this to everyone else.

  “Find anything interesting?” he heard the low, growling voice say from behind him. He turned to see the fire chief standing directly behind him.

  Dodge pointed to the box and stepped out of the way so the fire chief could see for himself. As the short, stocky man looked inside the box, Dodge continued his phone conversation.

  “Well, my decisions already been made for me,” Dodge replied.

  “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” the fire chief said as he stepped back and looked at Dodge. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “What do you mean by that?” Lemkie asked. “I mean, we got him, right?”

  “Yeah,” Dodge replied to both Lemkie and the fire chief as he turned his attention to the body in the bed. In that moment he felt pity for the young man, even if he knew he shouldn’t. Had he been looking at the old Walter, the young man who frightened all the women of Poplar Falls, he would have felt numb to the young man. Many years of seeing senseless crimes had hardened him to feel no empathy towards people like Walter; although he had gotten to know the new Walter. The simple-minded young man who had a one-track mind and never hurt anyone was different than who he had been previously. Dodge recalled going to homes that had been broken in to and seeing the devastation on the women’s faces. They felt violated. No longer safe in their own homes. The old Walter had taken that from them as well as the lacy material he so badly desired. He couldn’t help but think this was karma coming to visit Walter to enact its own brand of cruel revenge on the deserving young man. And after the deaths of Charlie Baker and now Walter, it looked like karma had taken up residence in Poplar Falls.

  “Dodge, you still there?” Lemkie asked.

  “Just a sec,” Dodge said to Lemkie as he turned to the fire chief, who was walking out of the bedroom with his head down in disgust. “Chief,” Dodge called out. “Can you keep this quiet until we can get this scene locked down?”

  “Fuckin’ sicko bastard,” the fire chief grumbled through his thick mustache. “Yeah, I’ll keep this quiet.”

  Although the other firemen had already fed the rumour mill about Walter being dead, none of them knew the fact that he was also the Panty Bandit.

  “Walter’s dead, Lemkie. And we found the proof we need to close the Panty Bandit case once and for all,” Dodge said. “How fast can you get to Walter’s house?”

  “I’ll grab my stuff and leave as soon as I can,” Lemkie replied. “Should I bring Calvin?”

  “If you still trust him then you might want to, as this place is a mess.”

  “Worse than Charlie Baker’s?”

  “Big time,” Dodge replied.

  “I still trust him to do his job,” Lemkie replied. “I’ll bring him along and we’ll see from there.”

  “And tell Tilley to come, too,” Dodge replied before ending the call and exiting the bedroom. He walked out to find the fire chief waiting for him by the front door as he did.

  “Those,” the fire chief growled as he pointed to a pair of yellow wires that ran through a hole in the wall next to the front door of the trailer. “Those go to the neighbour’s house.”

  “Those?” Dodge asked.

  “The electricity is off in the place. Walter must have run these from the neighbour’s. One of my guys disconnected them to make sure the place wouldn’t burn down still.”

  Dodge thought this was a wild idea, as the Walter he knew wouldn’t have the smarts to do this sort of rigging. But what Dodge didn’t know was that Walter used to have good days when he could figure these things out. But those days had faded away as time passed and simple tasks got harder for Walter. Things like paying electric bills were a thing of the past for Walter, let alone figuring out how to get power from an unsuspecting neighbour.

  Dodge looked around and noted the trouble light hanging from the kitchen cabinet. There was another trouble light hanging from an old hook in the ceiling near the bedroom door. This one looked like it might still work if it had power, thought Dodge. And in the stillness of the place, Dodge heard no white noise at all in the old trailer. That’s when he noticed the white freezer with the clutter of papers on top of its lid. He took out his Blackberry and took a couple of pictures of the top of the freezer and its cluttered mess. He pocketed the phone, took the box from the top of the freezer, and swept the papers and unopened mail into it. Dodge set the box of money and papers on the floor next to him and put his hand on the freezer, feeling warmth from the compressor which indicated it still had power until recently, when the fireman had disconnected the extension cords. The yellow wire he now saw running behind must be for this freezer and this made him nervous. He steeled himself and opened the freezer lid, bracing for what he would find.

  Inside, still frozen and covered in frost, was exactly what Dodge knew he would find: the body of Walter’s mother. Although he had half expected to find her chopped up or something like in the movies, he was surprised to see she looked to be completely intact. And it was hard to tell with the frost, but the expression on her face even had a serene look to it. Not the horrified expression he had expected to find.

  “Jesus Christ,” he heard the growling voice of the fire chief exclaim as he turned to see him standing next to him. “What a sick fuck that kid was.”

  Dodge marvelled at everything he had just learned about simple Walter. Not only was he the Panty Bandit, but he had probably killed his own mother and stuffed her into a freezer. But he couldn’t get past the look on the old woman’s face. She didn’t look like someone who died fighting off her simple son. She looked peaceful in a strange sort of way.

  “Maybe we should plug this back up until my crime scene guy comes in,” Dodge said to the fire chief. “I’m not sure how he’s going to want to handle this one.”

  “Sick fuck,” the fire chief said as he walked out of the trailer.

  Dodge gently closed the lid of the freezer. “Damn,” he whispered to himself as he heard the compressor of the freezer come to life while it contained nothing but death inside it. Dodge looked at the box of paper next to him. He noticed many of the papers in the box looked identical. Each one looked like it had been left outside for a week before being put in this box. Each copy looked like it had gotten wet and rubbed in dirt before being left here in the pile. Dodge carefully plucked one of the identical papers from the box and unfolded it, reading the text on the top.

  Elder’s Funeral Parlor.

  There must have been thirty copies of this, maybe more in the b
ox with the money. They had been scattered on the lid of the freezer before being put in the box just now by the curious detective. The money, thought Dodge, must have been to pay for his mother’s funeral. The peaceful look on her face told Dodge what the coroner would later confirm. Walter’s mother died peacefully, probably in her sleep would be his best guess. Her heart just stopped, leaving Walter to fend for himself. Something he could have done before his operation, but not since. His physical condition was evidence enough, but one look at the place and you knew that he had been declining in ability for a long time. Perhaps the brain tumour was back or perhaps they just took too much when they saved this poor wretched young man’s life; the same young man who now lay dead from smoke inhalation in his own bed. Although, to look at his condition, it was only a matter of time before he’d have died of malnutrition or dehydration.

  Dodge now stood at the bedroom door, looking at the body in the bed, trying to remind himself that this was the young man who terrorized the women of Poplar Falls. Dodge felt sorry for him, and yet another part of him couldn’t help but think it was some form of twisted poetic justice for the young man to have suffered so much.

  “I didn’t believe you when you told me the place was worse than Charlie Baker’s, but I do now,” Lemkie said as he walked into the trailer, Detective Tilley in tow. They walked over to where Dodge stood by the bedroom door and peered inside.

  “I don’t mean to sound insensitive,” Tilley said, “but karma seems to be doing a good chunk of our job for us.”

  Dodge didn’t vocalize a response to Tilley’s statement, as it did ring a little sour. But that didn’t change the fact that he fully agreed with her, at least in this case he thought. Not so in the case of Vernon Cross, though. Vernon might not have been the best of people, but he certainly hadn’t deserved to be stabbed to death with a wooden dick.

  “You mentioned having proof that could close the Panty Bandit case?” Lemkie asked.

  “In the closet there’s a box full of evidence. But that’s not the worse part,” Dodge said as he took Tilley and Lemkie over to the freezer.