Memories of a Murder

by Sid Kar

  Frank stood there silently digesting and trying to understand and fit coherently the tanker load of information flooding his brain. He felt as if a hose flowing with data had just burst open.

  “What do you think Frank?” Clara asked.

  “I am assuming the man in the car who fired the revolver was Larry Dunlap,” Frank said, “but it didn’t look like he planned to commit a murder. A heated argument broke out but over what?”

  “Blackmail, Frank,” Joe said, “Adam’s buddy must have realized rich boy Dunlap would pay a good dollar to keep his dirty secret buried deep. Asked for a lot more. Got buried himself.”

  “You have a low opinion of people, Joe,” Clara said, “for all we know he could have had a last minute crises of conscience over his role in breaking the law and endangering the public.”

  Frank and Joe burst out laughing and even Friedrich joined them in a chuckle.

  “Me and Joe have seen many crimes that were thieves’ disputes over loot or a mob family whacking a capo from another family,” Frank said, “as a policeman, I deny that there is honor amongst thieves or gangsters. I have never seen this…” Frank grinned, “…crises of conscience in that sort.”

  “But this man was not a thief or a gangster. He was just a regular trucker,” Clara said, “roped in with money to do a one time job. He might not have even known what beforehand.”

  “Be that as it may,” Frank said and looked at his watch, “we are five minutes away from our hard stop. Time to go,” Frank said then turned to the scientist, “this is it, Herr Friedrich Brandt. It is time to wrap up. Delete all the videos, images and sound recordings. Take off that jungle of wires from Adam’s brain and we will put it back in our portable freezer.”

  Friedrich got busy pulling off the electrodes from the brain. He pointed to the portable freezer laying on another lab table and Joe picked it up. Joe opened the freezer while Friedrich put on his gloves and then carefully placed the brain back in the freezer.

  “Friedrich, we will meet again to discuss this once the case is closed,” Frank said, “but this can’t go out beyond the four of us. Understood?”

  The three of them all nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Let’s go,” Frank said and rushed out of the room followed by Clara and Joe who was holding the freezer box. They nearly ran to the car. Frank pulled out of the parking lot then hit the lights and the sirens and accelerated down the highway.

  Frank had driven at nearly hundred miles per hour for ten minutes when he saw the large sign for a donut shop and turned hard to pull into the driveway and the momentum threw Joe and Clara sideways across their seats. He braked hard and all three of them were jerked forward like crash test dummies.

  “Joe get the donut box,” Frank said.

  “Right back,” Joe pushed open the door and rushed towards the shop.

  “Frank!” Clara cried incredulously, “Have you lost it?”

  “Joe!” Frank yelled after him through the passenger window, “grab a large iced coffee for me while you are at it.”

  “Will do,” Joe shouted without turning back.

  “Frank, are you trying to turn yourself into a caricature of a comedy show cop?” Clara asked, “you were all pumped about the deadline and now this.”

  “Relax, just relax Clara,” Frank said turning his neck, “the donut box is a Trojan horse.”

  “What in the world does that mean?” Clara asked.

  “We can’t bring the brain back in that freezer,” Frank pointed to it on Joe’s seat, “and just walk in and put it inside Adam’s head. Everyone at the headquarters knows it is made to carry organs undamaged. Questions will be raised that we can’t answer.”

  “Oh this is crazy!” Clara raised both of her hands in the air and shook them.

  Joe came back huffing holding the box in one hand and iced coffee in the other. Frank took the iced coffee, threw away the top and started gulping it down straight and a couple of stray ice cubes jumped over and slipped down into his shirt. Frank spat out the coffee on the steering wheel as he wiggled against the touch of ice on his belly.

  Joe guffawed and even Clara had a laugh.

  “That’s what you deserve, Frank,” Clara said.

  “Joe, make room in the box for the freezer,” Frank said, “throw away however many you have to. We are out of here.”

  Frank reversed the car out of the shop’s parking lot and turned on the sirens and the lights once again. Joe opened the box and launched a couple donuts over his head to create space. The

  donuts landed in Clara’s lap.

  “Joe! I am back here,” Clara yelled.

  “My bad, Clara,” Joe said, “just forgot. Usually it’s just Frank and me.”

  Frank put out a fake, exaggerated laughter.

  “And that’s what you deserve, Clara,” Frank said.

  “You two are the worst,” Clara replied.

  As they were talking Frank accelerated the car once again to nearly a hundred miles per hour. Traffic was light on Saturday afternoon. The other cars got out of the way rapidly and they raced down the roads.

  Frank saw 2:50 in his watch as they pulled into the police headquarters’ parking lot.

  “What’s the plan, Frank?” Clara asked as they rushed towards the main door.

  “I am going to use you two to distract Dr. Evan and Laura; meanwhile, I will put the brain back in Adam’s head,” Frank said.

  “Glad I don’t have to see that again,” Joe said.

  Frank, Clara and Joe took the elevator to the Homicide Floor. Frank walked towards Captain Arthur’s office while Joe and Clara trailed him.

  Joe and Curly spotted each other at the same time. Mason Curly was relaxing on his chair with his hands behind his neck when his sights fell on his nemesis.

  “Curly is here,” Joe whispered to Clara.

  Clara looked at Curly who leered at her for a few seconds then turned his attention back to Joe. He got up from his chair, walked towards them and leaned forward with his forearms resting on the cubicle wall.

  “Doofus is here to collect OT for time spent munching,” Curly spoke straight at Joe.

  Frank abruptly stepped in front of Mason Curly.

  “You want to get in my face, Curly?” Frank asked.

  “Oh, yes I do. You bet I do,” Curly barked. He stood up straight and looked straight into Frank’s eyes. They stared each other down for a couple of seconds.

  Frank swiftly brought up his open palm and grabbed Curly’s face stretching his fingers wide to get a firm grip. Then he pushed him back hard towards his own chair. Curly stumbled backward and fell into his chair which rolled back and crashed into his desk.

  There was some muted laughter and a few chuckles as other detectives stood up and gathered around to watch the drama.

  “Curly, that’s my Army card in your face because I kicked your sorry ass,” Frank said to the uproarious laughter of the crowd.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Arthur asked stepping out of his office after hearing the noise of the commotion.

  “Boy slipped,” Joe grinned.

  “Get back to your desks, all of you,” Arthur said to the crowd. Curly got up and straightened out his chair while giving a mean look to Frank and Joe. But he said nothing and turned away.

  “Where is Laura…Laura Buck?” Frank asked Arthur.

  “I don’t know. What do you think my office is? A waiting room for anybody who walks in?” Arthur replied.

  “Let’s go to my office,” Frank said to Joe and Clara and started walking away from Arthur.

  “Hey Frank, that’s it?” Arthur spread his arms wide, “no briefing of what happened this morning? Not even a word to your Captain?”

  “Captain Arthur, you just have to wait an hour. I will explain later,” Frank said and walked into his office.

  “This man…” Arthur shook his head and returned to his own office.

  Frank took out his phone and pulled up a photo of Laura Buck from one of
her social media profiles. He handed the phone to Clara.

  “This is Laura Buck, Adam’s daughter,” Frank said, “she must be sitting in the reception area waiting to pick up the body at three. We have five minutes. Clara, find her and keep her talking for at least fifteen minutes. Tell her you are with me.”

  “I can do that,” Clara said.

  “And ask her if she remembers the names of the trucking companies Adam worked for during the 90’s,” Frank said.

  “I see where you are going,” Clara said, “will do.” She walked out of the office.

  Frank picked up his desk phone and dialed Medical Examiner’s office. Dr. Evan picked up the phone on the first ring.

  “Frank, I thought you would call. I am releasing the body of the victim from your case in a few minutes,” Evan said.

  “I know,” Frank said, “listen I need to talk to you very urgently. Can you come up to my office?”

  “Sure, Frank, let me just do the release…”

  “Dr. Evan, we are still questioning Laura about the case and she will be held up for half an hour,” Frank said, “I am in a hurry, it will take only fifteen.”

  “Fine,” Evan sighed, “be there soon.”

  Frank ended the call and then took the big donut box from Joe’s hand.

  “Joe, buy me at least ten minutes,” Frank said, “ask about medicine, crack jokes, say whatever. Just keep him here till I return.”

  “I will do that, Frank,” Joe replied.

  Frank walked out and ran up the rear stairs to the crime lab floor. He stood behind the door and watched Dr. Evan head towards the elevators through the glass pane. Frank tiptoed to his office. The hallway was deserted as expected on the weekend but there were still lights in a few rooms. Frank reached the Medical Examiner’s office and gently knocked on the door hoping none of the assistants or the interns had shown up today. No one answered. He looked down both ends of the hallway and then took out his lockpick. He held the box under his left armpit and went to work picking the lock with his right hand.

  Frank took a couple of deep breaths and then knocked on the door of his own office. Joe and Evan were having a jolly good time with spurts of laughter that could be heard from outside.

  Evan reached over from the chair and opened the door for Frank.

  “Frank, you look like you came from a sauna,” Evan said.

  “Just some running around,” Frank said, “sorry for the misunderstanding.”

  “No matter. Joe told me,” Evan replied.

  Frank looked past Evan at Joe who nodded his head.

  “What did you tell him, Joe?” Frank asked.

  “That you was gone looking for him all over the building,” Joe said.

  “More misunderstanding,” Frank smiled, “I actually meant to call Dr. Benjamin Hector from Forensics Anthropology.”

  “It’s about that skeleton you found this morning?”

  “It is,” Frank was glad the news had spread across the headquarters, “didn’t mean to waste your time.”

  “Both of us are doctors in crime forensics, so I can see the confusion,” Evan got up and took his leave, “Always fun to talk to Joe,” he left the room. Frank closed the door behind him.

  “Frank, you’re sweating like a pig,” Joe said.

  “I worked like a maniac to get the brain back inside Adam’s body and ran up and down the stairs,” Frank said.

  “I wasn’t going to let him leave by himself till you returned,” Joe said.

  Frank made a call from his desk phone to his cell phone he had given to Clara and told her the task had been completed. Clara came to their office two minutes later.

  “How did it go?” Clara asked.

  “As good as I could make it,” Frank said, “shouldn’t be noticeable.”

  “Laura and an undertaker accompanying her are on their way to pick up the body now,” Clara said.

  “Did you ask her about the trucking companies? Did she remember anything?” Frank asked.

  “I did, and she did.”

  “Where is the list of the company names?” Frank asked.

  “No list. Adam worked for just one company in the 90’s: Babbage, Brothers and Sons Trucking or BBS Trucking for short,” Clara said.

  Frank took out his diary and wrote down the name.

  “You are thinking the other tanker driver who was shot dead and buried was Adam’s fellow trucker, right Frank?” Clara asked.

  “Dunlap or whoever that third character in the video was, hired Adam for his criminal past,” Frank said, “a trucking company would be reluctant to hire someone who used company trucks for criminal activity and exposed them to the legal liability. But Babbage and Sons hired Adam despite his record of smuggling cigarettes. I think it is likely they had other ex-cons on their payroll.”

  “Want to slap a search warrant on those brothers and sons, Frank?” Joe asked.

  “Not yet, Joe,” Frank said, “first we need a name and a face. Let’s see if Dr. Benjamin can give us one.”

  Frank, Joe and Clara walked over to the elevators to hitch a ride to the Anthropology Laboratory. The floor was again mostly deserted but there was light coming from the office at the end of the hallway. This was the main examination room where police anthropologists explained their findings to the detectives.

  Dr. Benjamin heard them walking and met them outside the room. Benjamin Hector was a bald man in his late forties with a goatee and a moustache that were both well-trimmed. He was wearing a white doctor’s coat over black khakis and medical gloves.

  “Keeping you working on Saturday, Doc?” Frank said, “unfortunately this is urgent.”

  “I understand. Skeletons don’t fall out on any schedule,” Benjamin replied.

  “Dr. Benjamin is one of our Forensics Anthropologists,” Frank introduced him to Clara, “And this is Clara Bridges. She is from an agency in Washington helping us on the case.”

  “An agency? Not a name, not even an acronym?” Benjamin shook her hand with a smile.

  “Don’t ask,” Frank said, “did you manage to dig out all the remains?”

  “I did. Let’s go over them,” Benjamin replied and turned around. They followed him into the room where the skull and bones lay arranged in a pattern roughly resembling human body over a black granite tabletop. “I was in the office finishing some paperwork, so I got there as soon as I heard about your find. I have to thank you actually for doing the drudge work of digging all the way down to the skeleton.” Benjamin said, “And also for not trying to dig it out yourself and breaking bones in the process.”

  “We are pros, Doc,” Joe said.

  “I know, Joe,” Benjamin said, “this man – look at the pelvic structure and jaw bones – died by a gunshot wound to the head. One bullet entered and exited the skull,” he pointed to the hole in the skull, “thus I don’t have a bullet for you, and I didn’t find one. You will have to look for it yourself. Now I doubt you will find it because these remains appear to be two to three decades old.”

  “Would you say 1992 is not out of range?” Frank asked.

  “How would you know a specific year?” Benjamin narrowed his eyes at him.

  Frank did not reply. He stayed quiet.

  “Nevermind, not my business,” Benjamin replied, “but yes 1992 is a possible year for the murder.”

  “Can you identify the individual based on the teeth?” Frank asked.

  “I did a preliminary review of his teeth and found no dental work done,” Benjamin said, “we won’t find a match in any database based on his teeth. But I can call our forensic odontologist to come in to do a detailed check.”

  “If its fruitless don’t bother him,” Frank replied, “will you do a reconstruction of his face in clay?”

  “Already finishing it up, come on I will show you,” Benjamin walked them into a smaller room where a plastic skull was held atop an iron rod and chunks of clay were splattered all over it with a few untouched spots.

  “That’s the mold of
the skull I am putting clay on,” Benjamin said, “I will take digital pictures once I am finished and email them to our face composition artist. I called him and he is standing by to work from home and create an image of the face with his graphics software.”

  “Email me the image file as soon as you receive it,” Frank said.

  “Will do,” Benjamin replied as they walked out of the side room and then the main room and headed back to their floor.

  Back in his office Frank did a search for Babbage, Brothers and Sons Trucking on the internet and slammed his fist into the keyboard when the search results appeared.

  “What’s the matter Frank?” Clara asked.

  “BBS Trucking went bankrupt in 1999. No one even bought them, flat out Chapter 7 liquidation, so no one will have their old records,” Frank said.

  “Chapter what…”

  “Nevermind, lawyer terms I learned from dad,” Frank replied.

  “Bankruptcy court should have the details,” Clara said.

  “But not online. Payroll documents will be stacked in some boxes in an archive,” Frank got up, “Joe, we are going to the courthouse.”

  “Hey, I am coming too,” Clara said.

  “No, I need someone to be in the office,” Frank said.

  Clara made a face at him.

  “I will take you to interview his family members if we get a name, and keep Joe here,” Frank said.

  “Frank don’t want me talking funny to them,” Joe said.

  “Frank, what about those metal barrels they buried beneath the body?” Clara said, “shouldn’t we tell someone about it?”

  “That can wait,” Frank said as he walked out with Joe, “the pollutants didn’t leak out for thirty years, they aren’t going anywhere tonight. I will ask Colonel Ed to send a Hazmat Team tomorrow.”

  Frank and Joe reached the courthouse in less than ten minutes as it was located not far from their headquarters. The guard at the front desk saw their uniforms and waved them through the metal detector which beeped when Frank and Joe walked in, but the guard turned it off. They went straight for the archives section and found the door locked just as expected. A court policeman was on duty station down the hall. Frank and Joe approached him and Frank showed him his badge.