Memories of a Murder

by Sid Kar

  Clara sat on the bed of her motel room with her pistol in her hand. She had checked in the afternoon but had gone out to reconnaissance the refinery complex and its surroundings during the evening. She had just blurted out a theory to Frank but now that she thought about it, she felt that it had some weight. The fence and the security around the refinery had been poor but she intended to keep her word to Frank. There was nothing to gain by breaking in and reading its payroll records. Solving Adam’s murder was Frank’s job, not hers. Her target was Panther.

  If he did come in, this would be the motel he was most likely to check into. She had thought about what Frank had said earlier and how he had identified the hotel he would have chosen based on the one she chose. They had the same training. They applied the same criteria. And this motel was the textbook hideout place: cheap, shabby, the no questions asked attitude of the owner, access to the main roads yet surrounded by the woods to allow an emergency escape.

  And she would be ready for him. She moved her fingers over her pistol one more time then tucked it inside her jacket.

  Luckily she had found a place which sold makeup on the cheap. She applied it liberally, but her intention was not to attract attention of the patrons of the bar – she never had problems with that even without the makeup – but to conceal her identity from Panther. Would he remember? She couldn’t risk it. If he made her before she found him, then she would not even know what hit her.

  She made her way downstairs to the motel bar. A portly bartender dressed in overalls with a crew cut and a goatee was wiping the drinking glasses just as patrons were starting to stroll in. She walked to the corner and ordered herself a shot of brandy. It was cold outside and cold inside too. The motel was cheap. The heating was turned down. But she sweated. Her palms sweated, her legs sweated and she shivered. The fear was driving her bodily reflexes, overwhelming her inner thermoregulation. She imagined Panther walking in the front door and almost threw up in her glass.

  But he didn’t come. Instead the townspeople came. The tanker drivers came. The refinery workers came and guests of the motel came. The bar became lively as the night wore on. She had a couple more shots of brandy while waiting.

  A couple of rough, unshaven tanker drivers who were downing shot after shot watched the bartender leave to answer the call of nature and then walked towards her. They sat down on either side of her. She felt slightly uneasy, but more annoyed. She had given up on Panther showing up tonight. It was not his style to show up at the last minute. He was a man who liked to prepare, to case out his target and its settings. He would have checked in by now if he was coming tonight. Clara finished her shot of brandy then got up when one of the truckers grabbed her left hand.

  “Where you going doll? The night is still so young.” He smiled showing his buck toothed mouth.

  The rest of the bar quieted down. It didn’t look like anyone wanted to intervene.

  “Don’t look at them,” the other trucker told her, “Biff and me rule this place.”

  The two did appear heftier than the rest of the crowd at the bar; although, they were more paunchy than muscular.

  The one named Biff pulled her hand towards him but was surprised when he also received a knee to his chin. He let go of her hand. The other one grabbed Clara from behind but she was expecting a move from his part and kicked him in his right knee. This allowed her to break free of his hold. She turned around and whacked him on the side of his neck with a karate chop.

  Biff took a swing at her but she jumped back. Biff came at her cursing. She raised her arms and curled them in fists and took a couple of empty swings at him. Biff laughed and came forward but he did not see Clara’s foot come up fast and kick him straight in the face. Biff stumbled back into the bar. He picked up an empty beer bottle from the bar and raised it in the air above his head.

  Clara rolled down the zipper of her jacket to reveal her pistol.

  “That would be assault with a deadly weapon,” Clara said, “I will defend myself with deadly force,” she said tapping her pistol holster.

  “Woah lady!” Biff said, “I mean no harm. I will put this down.”

  “Biff, Jules, what the fuck guys?” the bartender said. He had returned and was now holding a twelve gauge shotgun pointing in their direction but not aiming at anyone in particular.

  “Relax Dave. We were just having a little fun,” the other one named Jules said, “lady lost her cool.”

  “That’s not what happened,” Clara protested.

  “She is packing heat,” Biff said.

  Dave the bartender could not see her pistol at a diagonal angle.

  “Is it true? Do I need to call cops here?” Dave asked.

  “Don’t bother. I am a cop,” Clara said. She took out the card Frank had given her, held it up in front of her with her finger obscuring the last letter ‘K’ in Frank’s name.

  “Franny Kirk of State Police,” Clara said showing it to the two of them and the bartender.

  “That’s a card, not a badge,” Dave said.

  “I am undercover, easier to hide a card,” she replied, “would you like me to call uniformed troopers here?”

  “There is no need for that madam. We apologize,” Jules said then slapped Biff on the back of his head, “apologize to the lady, you drunk meathead.”

  Biff muttered some phrase akin to “sorry,” but he clearly was displeased having to say so.

  “You two come with me,” Clara said to them.

  She had come here looking for Panther but now that an opportunity had presented itself. She decided she would push Frank’s investigation. If she got him some information, he would owe her a favor which she could call later with regards to Panther.

  Clara pointed Biff and Jules to a side table away from the crowd and had them sit with their backs to the wall. She stood in front of them, one of her hands on her pistol, at sufficient distance to pull it out in time if one of them made a move.

  “You two realize I can write you up for assaulting a police officer?” Clara said, “That’s many years in jail.”

  “We didn’t mean that. It just got out of control,” Jules said. Biff said nothing but looked away morosely.

  “I will give you a chance to walk away here,” Clara said, “but I need answers to my questions.”

  “Anything, ma’am,” Jules replied.

  “Is your big boss, Larry Dunlap, hiring cheaper drivers without Hazmat license to transport gasoline? Are there any oil spills that he hasn’t reported?”

  Jules and Biff looked at each other, but with a look that was more puzzled than surreptitious.

  “Both of us have proper licenses for gasoline tankers,” Jules said, “don’t know of any truckers that don’t.”

  Clara was disappointed. Her interrogation training had taught her enough to know that both of her detainees looked genuinely confused.

  “I might be of help in such matters,” a gruff voice said.

  Clara jumped in startlement and pulled out her pistol as she turned. There was an old man standing to the side of her with a thick, white beard and head full of hair, patched up jeans and green jacket. He wasn’t fazed by her pistol at all.

  “You scared me,” Clara said holstering her pistol.

  “They too new to be of use to you,” the old man said.

  “What do you mean?” Clara asked.

  “Let’s talk some,” the old man said, “buy me a nice beer first.”

  Clara had a hunch that this man had some inside knowledge. She told Biff and Jules to get lost with a warning not to pester any women again. Then they sat down at the table. Clara ordered two bottles of expensive craft beer for the old man.

  “Why did you decide…”

  “I couldn’t help but overhear. It ain’t about the oil spills or the driving licenses, ain’t it?” The old man grinned as he savored the beer, “that’s EPA. You are police. This is something else.”

  “What do you know?” Clara asked.

  “I know a time wh
en old man Dunlap was looking for outside truckers,” he leaned forward and whispered.

  “Why are you telling this?”

  “I was a trucker all my life. Hurt this back of mine,” he replied stretching himself as if reminded of his aches, “old man Dunlap is a greedbag. He bought us the cheapest health insurance. Now more than half my social goes to medicine and physical therapy,” he angrily nodded his head and smacked down the empty beer bottle on the table.

  CHAPTER 14

  Friday, Day 9

  It was not till the early morning of the next day that Frank and Joe were called into the Superintendent’s office. They were sitting outside while Captain Arthur was discussing the matter with Colonel Edward and Major Kenneth.

  The previous day’s event had led to a huge eruption of nationwide media attention. News channels had descended on the State Police headquarters with reporters and cameramen running around everywhere asking questions and Troopers trying to contain them as gently as they could.

  After the shootout, Frank and Joe had spent the remainder of the day in a hospital where despite both of their protestations they were put through a battery of tests while their room was secured by a SWAT Team; then at the police headquarters where they received significant questions during the debriefing, but Frank flatly refused to connect the gun battle to any of his cases. He knew that nothing good would come out of others sticking their noses in his cases, so he said nothing more beyond describing the event and their response.

  Later that night, they were ordered to stay overnight at the headquarters itself till the higher ups could figure out if they were still targets and if so how to proceed with their protection.

  The GPS device had no fingerprints on it, but ballistics managed to identify the bullets as having been fired from HK-G36 as Frank had believed.

  Senior police officers Edward and Kenneth were called in to debrief the Governor at night and there they even fielded calls from National Security bigwigs from Washington. They managed to return in the wee hours of the morning.

  The superintendent’s door opened and Arthur stuck his neck out.

  “Frank, Joe, we are ready for you two,” he said.

  Frank and Joe walked in. Edward looked tired and sleepy as he slumped in his chair, while Kenneth was sitting at the edge of his seat like a bull ready to dash. A local newspaper was lying on the table with most of the front page taken up by the photo of Frank standing in front of the truck and firing his rifle. It was taken at a straight angle from directly above. Frank realized it must have been shot by the cameraman in the traffic reporting helicopter. Edward picked up the paper and read the headlines.

  “The Trooper vs The Truck: Showdown on Parkway,” Edward said.

  “That’s you, Frank,” Joe gently slapped Frank’s shoulder but cleared his throat and quieted down when he saw Kenneth looking at him intently.

  “What you did out there was very brave, Frank, and I commend you,” Edward said, “but also unnecessarily risky. Our highways are not battlefields and we are not fighting in combat. We keep the peace and enforce the laws.”

  “We had no choice. We were attacked. We had to return fire,” Frank said.

  “I am talking about the last part, Frank,” Edward said, “you did not have to jump the divider and throw the gauntlet to them, not when they were running away. Our first objective is to minimize danger to the people.”

  “No civilians were in danger, sir” Frank replied.

  “That includes your fellow police officers,” Edward said.

  “Joe was not in danger. He stayed put. No other officers had reached the scene,” Frank replied curtly.

  “I am talking about you, Frank,” Edward said.

  “Me?” Frank contorted his face, “it is my choice to accept the risk.”

  “No, it is not,” Edward said and Kenneth shook his head with a grin. “You belong to the State. The State put a lot of money in training you. You are a great resource to the State of New Jersey, but not if you are dead or injured. You may not risk yourself any which way.”

  “Understood,” Frank replied with great reluctance.

  “I believe none of us had much of a sleep last night,” Edward said and all of them nodded their heads, “I won’t hold us longer than we have to. I just have two questions for Frank: what the hell is going on? And are you two still targets?”

  “And please do tell us more than just describing yesterday’s battle, like you told the Officers Involved Shooting Team,” Kenneth said.

  “I believe we were targets but no longer,” Frank said, “they wanted to silence my investigation, not draw attention to it. It has backfired. They won’t come again.”

  “And next time we will be prepared for them boys,” Joe said, “they won’t escape.”

  “Joe, pipe down today,” Arthur said.

  “Thank you, Captain Arthur,” Kenneth added.

  “What investigation would that be?” Edward asked. He pushed aside the newspaper and searched through the scattered papers and files on his desk till he found the report of Frank and Joe’s debriefing. “You don’t mention any relation to a case.”

  “It could involve sensitive information. I wanted to tell only you along with Major Ken and Captain Arthur,” Frank said.

  “Oh sure, that’s because we have you cornered now,” Kenneth said.

  “It’s Adam Buck’s murder case,” Frank said.

  Edward threw the report on the table and sat up straight with full attention.

  “How in the world a trucker is mixed up with all of this?” Edward asked, “your latest report to Arthur says he might have been involved with the mob, now these guys…who were these gunmen anyhow?”

  “That’s what I intend to find out,” Frank replied.

  “How, Frank?” Arthur asked.

  “Colonel, I need leeway on this case,” Frank said, “it has many moving parts and missing pieces. I am unraveling the thread but I need time and independence.”

  “You have earned your leeway,” Edward said, “But you have also got a leash now.”

  “Huh? What?” Frank blurted.

  “You always said you hated politics, now you have just made yourself very political,” Edward grinned.

  “I don’t understand. I don’t hate politics, it just bores me. How does it concern me now?” Frank asked.

  Edward picked up the newspaper again and spread it across the table on the front page. He rapped his knuckles against Frank’s picture on the front page.

  “Every time the topic of state police benefits comes up in Trenton, we are taking you along with us,” Edward said.

  “Let me do your impression Ed,” Kenneth said.

  “Go ahead, Ken” Edward replied.

  Kenneth raised his arms up and ballooned his mouth with air.

  “Oh here is Frank,” he said in an exaggerated tone, “he stands guard on our roads even going as far to stand up against an incoming truck…and oh, here is Joe, his good friend and partner, a man who checks multiple diversity quota boxes…”

  Joe’s eyes popped out and his jaw hit the ground.

  “…such fine exemplars of law enforcement deserve the best benefits we can bestow upon them,” Kenneth added.

  “Colonel, I joined to do the duty of bringing the criminals to justice,” Frank said.

  “That’s wonderful Boy Scout,” Edward replied, “but not everyone on the force has a million dollar inheritance coming from their daddy. Many of your fellow officers come from working class and middle class backgrounds, and I intend to bargain the best deal possible for them.”

  “That I will support,” Frank replied.

  “Good,” Edward said, “Frank, just like you, me and Joe’s grandpa started out as Troopers on the Parkway. Go get me the heads of those bastards who would dare shoot up our road.”

  “Yes, sir,” Frank saluted him.

  They were dismissed right after. Frank and Joe followed Arthur and they headed towards the stairs.

  “Che
er up, Frank. It’s not that bad to talk to the legislature,” Arthur said, “besides, we have decided you don’t have to bother with your reports anytime till you are ready to wrap it up.”

  “What happened to the gateway truck?” Frank asked.

  “Was stolen, as expected. We found it abandoned about a mile ahead and deliberately blocking the three lanes,” Arthur replied, “it choked up traffic real bad and before Troopers could get there to establish a perimeter, they had disappeared.”

  “Must have another gateway car parked,” Frank said, “thorough planning, another mark of the pros.”

  “Who are you suspecting?” Arthur asked as they walked down the stairs back to their floor.

  “Me and Joe are going to go down and examine the video from my phone,” Frank replied.

  “Alright, keep me updated,” Arthur said then added, “just verbally would do.”

  Arthur walked back to his office while Frank and Joe went to the computer lab.

  “The three of you with high ground and greater firepower lost and ran from the two of them?” the man with short, cropped hair shouted angrily and then slammed a file on the glass table.

  “Major, that policeman was a Captain in the Army’s Ranger Regiment,” one of the three men seated on the sofa in front of him said pointing to the file, “we should have pulled that file first before the ambush.”

  “Philip, you were always the thickhead,” the man addressed as Major replied, “the idea was to take them out before they could reach their headquarters. And I specifically picked each of you for your combat experience. After yesterday, I would have cut you three loose, if we didn’t have a big job waiting ahead.”

  “Major Richard, do you want us to try again?” Randy asked.

  “No, I don’t want you to try again. What the hell is this – a video game?” Richard scoffed, “The client will be angry. I got to try to placate him now.”

  “This operation was never part of our deal with him,” Shawn said, “it was a courtesy.”

  “Courtesy,” Richard laughed, “we did him a disfavor by bringing the entire police and media attention to the incident. How long before the cop traces it back to him?”