Monday Girl's Revenge

by David A. Thyfault

  Dixon smiled. “Sure. I’m enjoying this.”

  She faced down the hall and hooked a finger. “Ready for you, Sergeant.”

  “Hello, Mr. Browne,” the sergeant said as he reached Dixon’s door. “I said I’d be back. Step inside like a good boy. My partner wants to have a talk with you.”

  Dixon jiggled his teeth. “Partner, huh? You guys are wasting your time. I was following that Stump kid when Kraft was murdered.”

  “Keep moving.”

  Inside, they directed Dixon to his couch. The sergeant folded his arms and stood guard at the door while Delores pulled a chair from the kitchen and sat just a few feet from Dixon. This time she was the one in control. “I have good news and very, very bad news for you. First, the good news. Stump’s an honest kid. He verified your alibi. We know you didn’t kill Mr. Kraft.”

  “So why all the theatrics? Do you need the practice?”

  “Turns out Stump got me some information I desperately needed to convict you of rape.”

  “Me? Rape? You people are out of your minds. I’ve never raped anybody in my life.”

  “Quite the contrary. In fact you may become famous for what you did, or should I say infamous? Either way, you get to be the first serial rapist in our little city.”

  Dixon turned his head to Sergeant Byrdswain, “Is she insane?”

  “Quite honestly, sir, I think she’s got you by the balls.”

  “You know that string of wives you put together? None of those women would have had sex with you were it not for your false promise to get them citizenship. Thanks to a new law, each time you screwed them it amounted to rape by deception. How many women did you do that with anyway?”

  “Those women wanted what they got.”

  “I don’t think so.” Delores said. “So far, I’ve spoken with Yolanda and Francisca and Inez and some others. They’re all willing to testify about your little marriage-go-round. That makes you a serial rapist of each woman and a serial rapist of the group.”

  The color went out of Dixon’s face.

  “Not only that, we’re talking to your pal Louie, at the Registrar’s office. He’ll sing his heart out to avoid being charged with accessory to serial rape. That is, of course, if he’s not actually your brother, but we’ll figure that out later. The point is, now you’re the one who’s screwed. I have to tell you, I just love the irony.”

  Dixon watched her, silent for a change.

  “But I’ve got a lot more,” she said. “For instance, there are all those things you admitted to in that notebook of yours.”

  “That little turd.”

  “I assume you’re referring to Stump, but he’s the least of your worries. Manuel and Juanita are ready to skin you and Mr. Connors, next door, says you waved a gun at him. But my favorite witness is sweet little Inez Quintana. You can’t even imagine what she told me.”

  “You can’t believe anything she says. She’s just angry ’cause I never loved her.”

  “We’ll just overlook the list of rapes for now, including the recent one, and talk about an old gambling trophy of yours. You might have forgotten about it. Mrs. Quintana thinks you used it to kill her sister about sixteen years ago.” Delores smiled coldly. “That’s the one that pisses me off the most. You see I lost a sister too because of a pervert like you.”

  Dixon’s eyes shot to Sergeant Byrdswain, “I don’t know what she’s talking about, but I was covering for Inez.”

  “Covering?” Delores said. “How so?”

  “Inez killed her own sister. I forget her name.”

  “Lupe. You’ll probably never forget her name again.”

  “Whatever. Anyway I just won some money and Lupe wanted to help me spend it, so I figured why not have a few drinks and bang her while we were at it.”

  Delores smirked, “Are you sure you didn’t hit her over the head when you were done with her and then throw her on the ground? ’Cause that’s where she was found—sizzling on a road.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, I ain’t no caveman. I was happy to split a bottle of wine, and snag a goodnight kiss or two before I porked her.” He glared at Delores’s chest. “You’re a pretty good kisser. I bet a bottle of wine has loosened you up a time or two, huh Detective?”

  “Nice try, but you ain’t getting under my skin. You said you were covering for Inez—how so? What happened that night?”

  “Me and Lupe just got out of the liquor store when Inez walked up behind us and before I knew it that crazy Inez hit her sister over the head with a hammer. Poor woman was out of her mind with jealousy.”

  “A hammer? Are you sure, ’cause the investigating officers said it was something with a sharper edge—like a gambling trophy, for instance.”

  “They’re mistaken. When she did it, I turned around, shocked. Then Inez dropped the hammer. People like her don’t own guns or other kinds of weapons, you know.”

  “Where was this place? They might have some old surveillance videos that would corroborate this tale of yours.”

  “They were closed down a few years after that to make room for a new highway ramp.”

  “How unfortunate for you. Inez doesn’t drive. How did she get to the liquor store?”

  “How should I know? Maybe she had somebody else take her.”

  “Who? Did this mystery chauffer drop her off or wait until she clonked her sister and then take her back home?”

  “Whoever it was must have left ’cause she asked me to help her get rid of the hammer and the body. But that’s not murder.”

  “No, but it probably won’t surprise you to hear that Inez has a completely different story.”

  “Well it’s her word against mine and you know how women are—their emotions overtake their ability to think rationally.”

  “But the wound was on top of Lupe’s head.”

  “So what?”

  “You said you just got out of the liquor store and Inez walked up behind you. Inez was shorter than her sister was. If she hit Lupe while they were both standing up as you said, the wound would be somewhere around the back of the skull, not on the very top of the head.”

  “Well, Lupe’s head was bent forward.”

  “Nah. Ain’t buying it. You said Inez came from behind but based on where that wound was, the perp was quite a bit taller than Lupe. I’d say you’re a full nine inches taller than either one of those two.” She glanced at Sergeant Byrdswain and then back. “There’s another reason I don’t believe you. We have the real weapon. Your trophy. There’s a dark brown glob in the corner of it. Inez thinks it’s her sister’s blood.”

  “Coincidence.”

  “I don’t think so. You were the only one who had access to that trophy. In fact I’d bet it never left your hands from the moment they gave it to you. We also have time of death, and I’m betting it came shortly after you were awarded that trophy. You had a MOM too.”

  “A mom? My old lady’s been dead for years.”

  “Means, Opportunity and Motive; and motive is the only thing we haven’t discussed, but I’ve got that covered too. Lupe liked her wine and had a tendency to talk too much when she was drunk. She also knew that you didn’t want word to get out that Maria was your daughter. Maybe she even threatened to spread the word. But you couldn’t risk it, so you did what you had to do and lied to Inez about what happened. As long as Inez bought your lies, all you had to do was keep her happy so she wouldn’t take Maria away, so you gave Inez some work and kept them both around. Too bad for you, Inez knew exactly what happened and now she’s happy to tell the story.”

  A knock came from the door. Byrdswain opened it and a uniformed officer entered the doorway. He addressed Delores, “We’re ready for you.”

  “Thank you, officer,” she replied as she pulled her handcuffs from behind her belt. She turned back to Dixon. ”We’ve got a surprise for you outside, but first you’re under arrest for the murder of Lupe Barbados, and for serial rape by deception of Inez Quintana, Francisca Diaz, and Yolanda Vigil.
Now turn around. I’ve got a set of bracelets that are just your size.”

  Dixon hung his head.

  Delores turned to the officer. “Apparently this sick-o has taken unauthorized videos of his victims. Would you find them and secure them so they don’t cause any additional troubles?”

  “Gladly.”

  Detective Sanchez led Dixon outside where a small crowd of noisy people, including Francisca, Yolanda, Inez and Juanita heckled him. “Some of your friends wanted to see this for themselves,” Delores said, grinning.

  Francisca stepped forward and spat on him. Inez kicked his shin.

  “Assault,” Dixon screamed in the direction of Sergeant Byrdswain. “That’s assault.”

  Byrdswain motioned at one of the uniformed officers. “You’d better restrain these big bad women.”

  Delores got right in Dixon’s face. “By the way, I’m twenty-six, you perv.”

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  While Stump’s classmates were anxiously counting down the last days of the school year, Stump was taking a final of his own making. He had to get into the last City Council meeting and to do so, he relied upon something Myles taught him: To get what he wanted he had to give them what they wanted.

  As agreed, James came by at seven-fifteen, when the City Council meeting was underway and Myles was with his AA pals. Stump dropped a note on the table telling Myles where he and Grandma Pauline would be.

  Some minutes later, when Stump, Grandma Pauline and James arrived at the meeting place, the parking lot contained quite a few cars and a small van belonging to KLAC TV. One thing Stump had learned about the media types was they were always looking for a fresh story.

  “Looks like a good turnout,” James said.

  Stump nodded. “Last meeting of the year. They have to pack a lot in. That’s one of the reasons they shut me out.”

  “Assemblies are fun,” Grandma Pauline said.

  Although many of Grandma Pauline’s comments were off the wall, Stump was glad she was there. As before, she reminded him of how important his own mother was and why he was doing all of this.

  When the trio opened the meeting room doors, a cameraman was in the middle aisle filming the goings-on. Heads turned as Stump led Grandma Pauline down the outer aisle toward the back where TV reporter Irv Wedlock was seated. Stump urged James and Grandma Pauline to scoot into one of the back rows, leaving the aisle seat for him. He waited as the leaders worked through the schedule.

  Finally, at a quarter after eight, Mayor Curtis pointed at the clock. “Looks like we’re a little late, but there being nothing else on the agenda for this year, I wish to thank—”

  “Excuse me Mr. Mayor,” Stump said as he and James bolted to their feet and James began to video Stump with a cell phone. “There is one last thing before you close down for the season.” Eyes rolled and the cameraman pivoted toward Stump as he stepped up the side aisle toward the front of the room. Mr. Barella, Stump’s councilman, folded his arms.

  The mayor leaned into his mic. “I’m sorry. We know who you are and you’re not—”

  “That’s right,” Stump said as he reached the lectern. “I’m Neal Joseph Randolph.” He pointed to the TV correspondent. ”Two months ago Mr. Wedlock invited me to keep him posted regarding my progress with this City Council. Therefore, I am the one who invited him to join us tonight.”

  Mr. Wedlock nodded.

  “Great,” the mayor muttered.

  Just then Myles came in, scanned the room and took Stump’s vacant seat next to Grandma Pauline.

  Stump turned back toward the council members. “I promised Mr. Wedlock that I would give him two good stories tonight. I told him that even though you have a full docket, and even though I let you down once before, you are the kind of people who will always put the citizens of the community before your own interests. I said that you would gladly be late to your end-of-term party if you could help the residents.” Stump pointed to his own councilman. “Mr. Barella has always said that very thing, haven’t you, Mr. Barella?”

  The cameraman pivoted to catch Barella’s reply. Barella sat up and nervously straightened his tie. “Er. Yes. That’s exactly what we’ve talked about. Neal and I go way back. I think we should let him speak.”

  “Alright, alright,” the Mayor grumbled. “But make it quick. These good people want to go home.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” Stump said, “and everybody else too. Many of you may know that there was a murder in our town a few days ago. The victim was Mr. Kraft, my boss at the Cal-Vista apartments. At this very moment, the police are at that building and arresting the man who some believe committed the murder. His name is Dixon Browne.”

  The end-of-meeting buzz that dominated the room minutes earlier had calmed to low whispers as the cameraman, James and most of the attendees focused on Stump.

  “Interestingly,” Stump said, “I can prove that Mr. Browne is both innocent of the killing and guilty of a rape.” The buzz picked up as Stump pulled out his cell. I’m going to call the detective in charge right now and you can listen to her make the arrest.” Stump turned to Mr. Wedlock. “My girlfriend is taking video of it all so you can put the story on TV.” Mr. Wedlock nodded.

  Pleased with himself, Stump set his phone on speaker and held it to the microphone at the lectern. “But the most important part,” he said, “will come at the end when I reveal something that the detectives don’t even know—who the real killer is.”

  Heads bobbed enthusiastically and a hush settled on the crowd.

  Stump tapped his auto dial and everybody waited through the first couple rings, then, “Hi, Stump.”

  “Hello, Detective. I’m at my meeting, like we discussed. I’ve told everybody about Dixon Browne’s crimes. Are you ready to make the arrest?”

  “I’m sorry, Stump, but things didn’t work out quite like we discussed.”

  Oh, no. Stump’s stomach tightened as nervous mumbles of doubt replaced the precious silence of mere seconds ago. Embarrassed, he shifted his feet. “Er. Why not? I thought you believed me. Dixon didn’t do it.”

  “Relax, Stump. I’m just down the hall from you right now. I came to see you all in person. Okay. I think I’ve got the right room.” Just then the outer doors opened and Detective Sanchez walked in. She looked around and then joined Stump by the lectern and faced the council. “Good evening, everybody,” she said as she put away her cell. “I’m Detective Delores Sanchez. I came here tonight because I owe Stump here a big thank you. I can assure you all that Stump was correct about the key points he made. As he said, Mr. Browne did not kill Mr. Kraft as previously thought; but something else came up so my boss thought we needed to act quickly.”

  Whew! Stump secretly blew out a deep breath while Detective Sanchez continued.

  “In addition to the charges Stump suggested, we also charged Mr. Browne with murder in a very old case. Stump’s girlfriend was able to get that part on video for the TV people.”

  Wow! This was working out okay. Now was Stump’s chance to impress the hell out of everybody. “That’s very interesting, Detective Sanchez, but I have a news flash for you too. Do you have two sets of handcuffs?”

  The cameraman swirled to catch Detective Sanchez’s reply. “Of course. Why?”

  “I told you earlier that I could prove that Dixon Browne didn’t kill Mr. Kraft, but now I can tell you who actually did. It was Manuel Alvarado. The maintenance man.”

  “What?” Detective Sanchez said with her eyes wide. “Are you certain? What makes you think so?”

  “I’m not only certain. I’ve got proof. Maria and I heard Mr. Kraft and Dixon Browne arguing around 7:30. Then we saw Manuel come home and dump a chicken box on the opposite side of the complex from where his apartment is. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but after that Maria and I went for a walk and when we got back, Mr. Kraft was already dead.”

  “Oh my goodness,” Detective Sanchez said with her hand to her mouth.

  “Then today at sc
hool, James finished a piece of chicken and threw the bone in the closest trashcan just as anybody else would do, but it was radically different from what Manuel did. But this time when I thought about Manuel’s actions I knew the time of Mr. Kraft’s death and it all fit. Between statements by Maria and me, plus the receipt in the chicken box and Manuel’s fingerprints on the box we know that Manuel was there just minutes before Mr. Kraft died. That’s why James and I went back to the complex and got the chicken box.

  “Oh, my God,” Detective Sanchez said, both hands to her face. “I wish you would have called me.”

  “There’s more. I also saw a big mark on a fence that I’d just painted and we looked in the neighbor’s dumpster where we found a board that was clearly the murder weapon and all of this proves that Manuel had both the means and opportunity to kill Mr. Kraft.”

  “But evidence shouldn’t be removed and it has to be handled carefully.”

  “Don’t worry. The board and the chicken box are both in James’s trunk. We didn’t get our own fingerprints on them.”

  Detective Sanchez grimaced. “At least that’s one good thing.” She moved toward the door. “I’ve gotta get back there.”

  Stump stepped forward. “Don’t you want to know the motive?”

  She stopped in her tracks and raised her head. “Well, yes. What is it?”

  Stump looked at Myles, who was grinning and shaking his head. “Two reasons. It was a combination mercy killing, and a chance to frame Dixon Browne.”

  Detective Sanchez grabbed at her hair as if she wanted to pull it out. “Well, you’ve been correct about things like this before. I’ll have to go talk with him right now.” She turned to Myles. “Can you secure that evidence for me?”

  “Will do,” Myles said, still shaking his head as she ran out of the room.

  Stump proudly faced the Mayor and a healthy smattering of applause blended with a few cheers, James being the loudest.

  “Quiet down, everybody,” the mayor said into his microphone. “Quiet, please. Quiet.” Finally the noise eased and the mayor addressed Stump. “That was all pretty interesting, Neal, but it’s not our department. Now, we can finally—”