1976a

In my writing class this semester, we were given an assignment to write a short-story. After a lot of fuss I wrote this. It wasn't my original story, it began as a side project during the summer and sat on my computer gathering electronic dust as a three page piece of garbage. Since then, it has grown into a 10 page monstrosity, though I'm not sure that it's any better (perhaps it needs to be burned rather than posted for humanity to see). But I give you "1976".

Irvin Sloane set down his mug, the bottom of which left a circular coffee stain on the police reports carelessly strewn on his desk. Seven months sabbatical leave wasn't enough, but was too long; the usual pace of the patrol room was pure ecstasy, although hardly the type of toil he was accustomed to. The detective stared through the blue haze of his computer screen, and remembered, almost nineteen months earlier, when he had a beat; a patrol car; a gun; and a partner. Nineteen months ago was before—before the tragic year of 1976, before the most heinous crimes small town of Cedar Hill had ever seen, before Irvin's gun, his badge, and identity were confiscated and placed in the top drawer of Chief of Police, Gene Emerson’s desk. He hadn’t been whole since that day.

Irvin had relived that day so many times, the time on the clock, the sounds of the booking officers; the sinking feeling his stomach had when they brought the scoundrel in. Everything, even the feeling of the cold steel in his hands, the click of the levers, and the powerful whirl of the chamber locking the bullet in place. “You--son-of-a-bitch,” he muttered as he thought of the smug grin on the murderer's face. A phone call shook him out of his day terror, but it would return.

Lane County was a small county, and Cedar Hill was merely a blur out a car window, where the population maxed out at 10,000 when you counted the people in the graveyard. Irvin grew up on the back roads of Cedar Hill, driving his four-by-four, fixing fences that needed mending, and dating the farm girls. He had been the Quarterback in high school, taking his team to two division victories, and riding the cheers of football scholarships all the way through college for a criminal justice degree. But after tearing his ACL in the final game of his senior year, he gave up hopes for a solid career in professional football, and traded his helmet and pads in for a gold star and a Glock.

It was a hot night in July; when Irvin knocked on the front door of the country home, the pounding everyone dreads echoed through the sleepy house; the heavyhearted knock of an unlucky newbie who must inform the next-of-kin.

At 24, Irvin was the newest, and youngest, detective to be added to the Lane County Police force. He had been the first to discover Alice Grey's wide-eyed body bound, bludgeoned. The police siren had scared the attacker, because she was still breathing when Irvin happened upon her. He rushed over to her, and took her in his arms; as she hemorrhaged into his jacket, she drew her last breath, “tell my parents it doesn't hurt,” where her last rasped words.

Irvine was adamant he was an expert at breaking bad news, so his superiors were not reluctant to let him deliver the news to the Grey residence. His Sergeant, Lloyd Allen, hesitantly drove him back to the precinct where Irvin changed his blood soaked clothes, he washed his face roughly, as though the soap and the rough scrubbing would somehow wash the scene out of his mind. But the tighter he shut his eyes, the more vivid the scene became, the stronger the blood smelled, he steadied himself with the sink.

Allen drove him to the house, and instructed Irvin on the best manner in which to present the tragic news, "keep a stony; yet, sympathetic expression, don't look down, don't cry, and whatever you do, don't go in their house, you'll never come out." Allen made Irvin repeat his speech three times before he could open the door, and wished him good luck giving him a sympathetic pat on the back.

Alice had been the picture perfect girl every little girl dreamed of becoming, with long brown hair, flawless, light skin, and a beaming smile. She was Homecoming Queen and Valedictorian for the class of 1969 and head cheerleader in her junior and senior years. And like all good high school romances, she and Irvin were an item during their moments of fame. She wore his Letterman jacket, and he kept a note tucked away in his wallet of “I love you” written in her hand writing, they were a perfect pair.

Irvin was alone, standing on the front porch of the Grey's white country home with black shutters, the home where Alice grew up. Somewhere in the distance, an old farm dog barked, and in the whistling of the wind through the trees he could hear the familiar sound of the porch swing creaking. He opened the screen door and knocked three times one the Oak front door, the distinct thump of Manny Grey marching down the stairs clamored from somewhere in the house. Irvin swallowed hard; if Irvin knew him half as well as he thought he did, Manny would have his rifle in one hand and a flashlight in the other.

Half naked, Manny approached the door in his usual manner, cocked gun, loud and cussing, "What the Hell! What in God's name do you want Vin? It's the middle of the damn night! Why the hell, can't this wait ‘til mornin'!?" Irvin had known Alice since they were small, she was a year younger then him, but always in the same grade. It had been seven years since he had taken Alice to the senior prom, tried to feel her up, and left with a boner and a fat lip; he wished that he had not signed up for this job, but he couldn't leave now.

"S-sir--Mr. Grey, Sir--," his voice wavered, after taking a deep breath he was able to carry on, "Mr. Grey, this can’t wait till morning,--It's Alice, sir. She was attacked this evening. There's no easy way for me to say this-- er-- she's dead." At this Mr. Grey lowered his gun, nodded his head in an understanding fashion, hugged Irvin and closed the door without so much as a word.

Irvin stood on the porch for a while, repeating his last words to himself, as though trying to make himself believe it. "She's dead...,” he muttered to himself, "and that yellow-bellied coward did it to her."

When Irvin had arrived at the scene, he saw Alice's attacker running up the alleyway. He had a distinct walk and was easily recognizable as the county reject. He came from the peaks above Cedar Hill; his father was an abusive drunk and his mother was the town whore, Jack Avery was the lowest of the low, everyone knew when he came to town there was going to be trouble. Although Jack was 2 years older than Irvin, he had been in the same grade and always labeled as the "bad egg," he was expelled every year. When he was in first grade it had been for cussing out the teacher, punching his classmates, and setting fire to the coatroom, but as he got older the offenses became more deliberate and more harmful: punching the principal, stabbing another student with a pencil, smuggling beer into the school and getting drunk behind the bleachers. The town's folk were always saying, "If Avery amounted to anything it would be a killer."

Irvin didn't go back to the station after leaving the Grey's farm, instead Allen drove him back to his squad car; Irvin took his scheduled break and drove around to clear his head. With the windows down to cure his nausea, he relived the day, when he finally turned off the engine of his standard issue Fastback police cruiser, he was at his and Alice's favorite rendezvous--the old towering oak tree at lover's lane. It was where he first got up the gumption to kiss her. They were tucked in the branches on a hot summer day, spying on Irvin’s older brother and his girlfriend skinny-dipping in the pond near the foot of the tree.

He remembered the smell of Alice’s white cotton dress was like a sunny day, how the taste of fresh strawberries hung on her lips and her Oak tree brown eyes warmed his stomach. That was how he wanted to remember Alice, not as he had seen he tonight, a bloody mess in the alley, Alice had always been the type of girl who befriended everyone, who never had any enemies, her popularity never went to her head. He took the tattered note out of his wallet “I love you.” he read. Irvin remained there until his dispatcher’s voice came over the radio, telling him he was needed at the station.

Lloyd Allen met him at the door of the station, “we have a witness,” he said “thought you would want to be here when we question ‘im.” Irvin nodded, and followed the Sergeant to the witness examination room. “Mr. Abbot, please tell us everything you know.” James Abbot was a man in his mid-50s with failing eyesight and a history of exaggerating, he was taking out the trash when he heard Alice scream for Help, but he was used to the neighborhood kids horsing around in his alley at night, so he didn’t think anything of it when he heard her cry for help.

“She only cried ‘HELP!’ for a minute before the boy with ‘er told ‘er to be quiet. I didn’t think anything of it, until I saw you folks down in the alley tonight, so I came down ‘ere to tell you all I know.” Mr. Abbot shook his head helplessly, regretting that he had not stopped for a moment to speak with Alice; normally he would have, but he’d just opened a can of Tuna and the cat was in the house.

“Is there anything else you can remember, Mr. Abbot? A vehicle? A voice?”

Mr. Abbot thought for a moment, “There was something, the man, the one who told her to be quiet, was tall and wearing dress shoes. He was a clean-cut, clean-shaven man, and he called her ‘Al,’ like he knowed her.”

“Did he look like this man?” the Sergeant set a photo in front of Mr. Abbot. A black and white photo taken of Jack Avery’s ruddy face and beady black eyes stared up off the semi-glossy surface. His broken nose sat crooked on his the tip pointing more to the right than it should have from one too many hits from his old man.

“No, that’s Jack Avery, I know who that is, I’ve never seen the man who yelled at Alice before.” Mr. Abbot stared at the picture for a moment and began, “He was a skinny man, without a beard. With dark hair, he had a “city” look about him—like he didn’t belong in that alley, as though he might’ve gotten dirty if he stayed there too long.”

When the sun came up, Irvin went to his apartment for some much needed rest, though he questioned how much rest he was really going to get. He had just told a family that he cared about that their only daughter was dead. He remembered the eerie way Mr. Gray had shut the door in his face without a comment, the way Alice had gasped her final breath in as though that would make it last longer. He thought how odd if felt to hold her lifeless body close to his.

As Irvin got ready for his night shift and wading through the thoughts about Alice and her murder, he heard a call over the scanner, “ALL UNITS TO THE SCENE, WHITE FEMALE, MID-TWENTIES, BROWN HAIR, BROWN EYES, HAS BEEN ABDUCTED. SHE HAS BEEN MISSING SINCE 6:30 THIS MORNING, SHE HAS BEEN REPORTEDLY SPOTTED AT THE CORNER OF 5^TH AND MAIN. SUSPECT IN ARMED AND DANGEROUS, PROCEED WITH CAUTION, CORNER OF 5^TH AND MAIN, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.”

Irvin ran out of his apartment, he was five blocks from 5^th and Main, he decided the skip the car, it would be easier to go on foot. His years of running in high school and college were paying off. When he arrived at the street corner, Sergeant Allen and the Chief Emerson were there. “Any sign of her?” Irvin asked, and prayed that they had found her. The girl’s description was exactly what Alice had looked like; he couldn’t bear the thought of having to tell another parent that their daughter was dead.

“No, no sign. We cannot be certain she was ever here, we can only go off the lead from an anonymous caller.” explained the Chief. They all understood how critical this was, if they didn’t find a lead on her soon, it would be nearly impossible to in the morning.

The girl’s name was Evelyn Cob, she’d recently moved west to Cedar Hill from Maine, bringing nothing of her past with her. She was an artist who was in search of a new life and a new muse, and thought that she found it in the hills above the little town. But now things were going wrong, not at all, as they seemed this morning when she left for her daily run past the small crisp houses with manicured lawns and up the curvy mountain road, things then had made sense.

The cars were dispatched to their usual rounds, in search of a clue and the person who called the tip in. When Irvin reported to the station, he was met by the Chief and a young man. The Young man’s name was Benjamin “Ben” Heller. Ben was in his late twenties. He had recently transferred to the Lane County police force, from a squad in New York, with 6 years of experience, he would serve as Irvine’s partner during the investigation of Alice’s murder. Their first mission as partners was to travel out to the Grey house to question Mr. and Mrs. Grey about Alice.

“Mr. Grey, we need know everything, if we are going to find the man who murdered Alice.” Ben began the questioning right off the cuff, as Mrs. Grey sobbed in the background while she poured the three men dark coffee. “Did Alice have friends?”

“She had friends, but not any that would do this to her, everyone loved Alice. Vin, you know how much people loved my little Allie.” the tall man broke down in a fit of wrenching sobs. “She was our only baby. We loved her so much, what are we going to do without her?”

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Grey,” Irvin empathized, moving over to the couch and placing his hand on the big man’s shaking shoulder. “I know she was a wonderful woman, but someone didn’t feel the same way about Alice as everyone else did, and we have reason to believe she knew her killer.”

“KNEW HER KILLER?!” Mrs. Grey cried out, “Good Heavens.” she fell silent

“Mrs. Grey, did Alice have a boyfriend? Or anyone she was seeing recently?” Ben countered her. Mrs. Grey shook her head and turned white.

The questioning with the Grey’s had gone worse than expected. Irvin decided to make a trip up to the peaks to see Jack Avery. It was time he was brought in for questioning. He and Ben drove to the little cabin where Jack’s family lived. They were greeted by gunshots. After a couple of shots, they coaxed Mr. Avery to put the gun down. Jack came out the meet the officers. “What can I do fer ya?” he said with a mouth full of tobacco; “I asked what you were here fer.”

“We need to ask you some questions about last night, Jack.” Irvin took a step toward him. “I saw you leaving the body in the alley, what were you doing there?”

“I heard her scream, and when I snuck by the alley, I saw her on the ground, and remembered her from school. Then I saw the man stab her 3 times. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.” He pounded his fist into his hand. He began to shake, “I tried to help her, but there was blood everywhere. I tried to stop it, but the more I pushed, the more came out the other holes.”

“Why did you run when you saw me?” Irvin had a sharp tone in his voice.

“I know how you feel. I know how the town feels ‘bout me. I ain’t stupid, I know ya’ll think I’m a killa’ you think that’s all I’m about. Killin’, murderin’, but it ain’t. ‘Specially not Alice, she was one of the few people who were nice to me in school.

“Did you get a good look at the man who stabbed Alice, Jack? Try to remember. Anything.” Irvin needed something he could go off on.

“He had a tattoo of a green dragon on the inside of his left arm of an eagle on his forearm. I remember it, because it was odd to see a city man with a huge tattoo on his arm,” Jack was proud of himself for remembering, all the details.

With Jack’s answers, Irvin and Ben were back to square one, again. They went back to the station; Irvin had a message from Mrs. Grey on his voicemail. She sounded urgent; he returned her call at once. “Mrs. Grey, I just got you message,” he had an air of sympathy in his cool voice.

“Thank you for calling me back so soon, Irvin.” the tears caught in her throat, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything when you were here earlier.”

“You have something to tell me?”

“I was preoccupied when you were here, I couldn’t think about anything but my baby laying there, dying. “

“She didn’t die alone, Mrs. Grey.”

“Can you tell me about her?”

He closed his eyes, and shuttered. “I was there. She was alive when I found her, she was breathing,” he didn’t know how much further to go. But he needed to tell her, he needed to get it off his chest. “She was gasping for breath. I walked to her and took her up in my arms. She wasn’t alone, I was there. She told me to tell you that it didn’t hurt.” He knew that was a lie, he saw it in her eyes, but that is what she told him, so he had to tell her parents what she wanted them to know.

“Thank you, Vin.” She was relieved that her baby wasn’t alone, that had kept her awake all night. “She had a boyfriend. She met him in college; Grant Harris, that’s his name.” There was emptiness in her voice. As though she wasn’t telling him everything. “I haven’t been able to get in touch with him. He’s not answering when I call.”

“Mrs. Grey is there something else?”

“No, thank you for calling me, Irvin. Goodbye.” She hung up the phone.