Cross County 3

James paced outside the court room. Sheriff Charles Marcus slipped quietly through the door and passed to the waiting James. Marcus was a small man with a round head with perfectly parted white hair atop it. He wore his green sheriff’s uniform every day and it never seemed to wrinkle. The worried look he wore did not suit him, and he spoke in a quick light voice.

“Well you better tell me what’s going on.”

“Some one called in a dead body at the Primo Italian Restaurant off of the highway. Deputies Keen and Kern arrived and verified, they are sealing off the scene now. Coroner is on the way.”

“Then why aren’t you?” the sheriff looked a little put out.

“I wanted to get deputy Moss; he needs to learn how to handle a dead body.” James lied a little, moss could have joined him later, but James wanted something else from the sheriff.

“Are you sure you weren’t looking for this?” Sheriff Marcus held up a crinkled copy of the New York Times, and James sighed at seeing it. “It’s still there you know, 25 weeks on the best sellers list. One more week and you are obligated to do a book tour for your publisher.” The sheriff laughed a little at this.

“Not so loud.” James glanced around to make sure no one heard.

“If you didn’t want anyone to know you shouldn’t have written it,” The sheriff giggled a little as he tossed the paper over to James, “Or picked a better pen name. Or not have written about people you know. You know my wife has 3 copies at the library, can’t keep them checked in. what do you think would happen if she found out you wrote it?” James was fuming now. “One more week on the best sellers list and it will be out of your hands. Now get going, I’ll send moss just as soon as he is finished testifying.” Just then the doors to the court room opened and a handful of people came wandering out. At the back was a large African American male, 6 foot 3 inches, 220 pounds, all muscle, and no hair. Deputy David Moss was a very determined looking 24 year old, and he was the only candidate in the sheriff’s department looking to become an investigator. The sheriff waved him over. “Just in time Moss, we got a dead body called in, James here is going to take you over and show you how it’s done.”

Moss nodded and let out a “yes sir,” while the sheriff patted him on the arm and walked away.

“Well David,” James had a bad habit of using peoples first name, and he knew it annoyed Moss, “why don’t you drive with me and I’ll fill you in on the way.”

Primo Italian Restaurant is located just off of Highway 128 about 3 miles west of the county line. It was the only fine dinning restaurant within a 60 mile radius. It is located in an old mansion home which sits on a plot of land surrounded by 100 year old live oaks, about a ¼ mile back from the highway. The owners, who had opened the place about 7 years ago, had turned a draft old home into a beautiful eatery with gardens, valet parking, and a zagot star. People had been known to drive all the way from Jacksonville and even Tampa to eat there. James had not, he had been teaching in Gainesville when it had opened, and upon returning home 10 months ago, had never found the occasion to dress up and rub elbows with the other side, as he thought of them.

When they pulled up to the restaurant there were a handful of official vehicles waiting for them. Deputies had arrived to help Keen and Kern rope off the scene and round up employees as they showed up for work. As James got out of his Jeep, Deputy Jack Keen, a stocky balding man in his 30s came tromping up. He had a pocket notebook in his hands and was flipping pages finding the beginning of his notes since arriving on the scene.

“What do you got Jack?” James asked as he pulled a crime scene kit from his back seat.

“The dead body is the owner sir, Mark Phillips; he was also the chef here. He was found in the kitchen around 9:30 when the gardener noticed the open kitchen door. He called it in.” James was walking towards the door now and keen and Moss were right on his heels. “No signs of forced entry and no discernable prints on the handle.”

James was at the door now staring in; there was a full service kitchen beyond the threshold, butcher block counter tops, white tile floor, and a dead body lying in a pool of blood. Its head had been bashed in from behind, lots of blood; it made James a little uncomfortable. On the counter above the body a cast iron skillet, it had a pool of blood around it too. James pointed to that.

“We are pretty sure that did it sir, got some good prints off it too. If you want to go in and take a look we been entering through the dining room to preserve this scene sir.” James surprised to hear this and complemented Keen on his thinking.

“Come on David, let’s go in and see the body and hear the rest of what Jack has to tell us.”

The dining room was classic Italian restaurant, red and white checked table cloths, candles in wine bottles, James was not really impressed, and that is until he took a closer look. “These table cloths feel like Egyptian cotton.” He exclaimed.

“And those wine bottles go for $450 each. And they just stick candles in them.” Keen was indicating a frame on the wall. James went over and saw that it was the Zaggot review for the restaurant. It claimed that the restaurants charm came from its classic appearance created with high fashion elements. James was angry that he knew what that meant and he grumbled a little.

Entering the kitchen from the dining room, James, moss and Keen all slipped on pairs of latex gloves. “How much time have you spent with the body?” James asked.

“Almost none sir, Kern and I responded to the call. Checked to make sure he was dead, pulled his wallet for ID, Kern roped the place off while I started taking prints from the regular places.”

“Sir,” it was moss this time he was on the other side of the body all ready and kneeling down towards it. “There’s a shoe print here in the blood, and something about this blood is …” James was by him now leaning down.

“It’s different; you’re right, thinner, and watery. Good work David. Is this your print Jack?”

Keen leaned over the body to get a look, “I don’t think so sir, and Kern was never this close to him, I didn’t notice it before, but I really wasn’t looking.”

“It’s all right Keen, is there anything in else in that note book I should hear?”

“Yes sir.” Keen piped up excitedly. He hurried over to the back door and started to close it, as it came away from the inside wall it reveled a spectacular mess behind it. It looked like someone had thrown two entire spaghetti dinners, complete with meat balls and garlic bread on the wall. There was an assortment of broken porcelain to back up the claim.

“Well hello dolly.” James let it slip as the excitement got to him. People do not just throw spaghetti dinners on walls without a reason. Sometimes people knocked in the heads of others without reason, but not throw food. This was not random, this was a fight. This, thought James, had just gotten really interesting. He realized he was smiling and quickly wiped it off his face.

“Sir,” it was Moss again. James turned to see him drifting towards a large sink at what looked like a dishwashing station. James came over to him a looked down to where Moss was indicating. There was a pot, pan, colander and an assortment of utensils, all unwashed and all covered in marinara sauce. James turned quickly and saw what he was afraid of. There on the counter was a white rag. Mark Phillips was cleaning up when his attacker struck. It would have been easy for the attacker to clean up any evidence without worrying about wasting any time.

“Jack, bag that rag and have it tested for blood. Then get Kern in here and keep checking for prints. David and I are going to set up out here in the dining room for a while see if we can find out why any body would want Mark Phillips dead.”

Cross County 2

It was a four minute drive from his house on Live Oak drive to the court house on Main Street. Main Street in Fowler Florida was not the most happening place in the state, but could give any other place in Cross County a run for its money. There is a steady stream of traffic heading to and from Highway 182 which intersects Main Street half a mile south of the court house. James watched the traffic for a second before heading into the municipal building. Once inside he took the hallways on the right of the lobby which lead to the offices of the sheriff department. There was another lobby at the end of the hall with a counter and some chairs along the walls sitting quietly underneath the array of law informant posters displayed in the room. James went to the counter to find Deputy Louisa Gonzales sitting behind it reading a gossip magazine. Deputy Gonzales only briefly looked away from her magazine to see that it was James before turning the page and looking back

“You’re late.”

“I know.” James replied. “Is the sheriff in yet?”

“He’s in court, Judge Jessup.”

“And what about David?” James was straightening his tie in his reflection off one of the windows in the room.

“Deputy Moss is also in court with the sheriff.” James stopped straightening his tie.

“Was I supposed to be in court too?” he asked nervously

“No sir, just on time for once, but I see you couldn’t even manage that. There is pizza sauce on you tie by the way.” James looked down and right where his hand had been a moment before there was sauce, it was on his hand too, he licked it off both his hand and his tie. “You seem out of sorts this morning inspector, is every thing all right?”

“Just fine Louisa.”

“It was the wheel of fortune dream again wasn’t it.” James froze for a second and it all came flooding back to him. A shiver ran down his spine and his jaw tightened as his eyes went glassy and he could see Vanna shaking his head at him and Sajak laughing with his perfect hair and teeth. “Did you at lest get to guess a letter this time?” he shook his head no and let out a sigh at the same time. “Its ok sir, I know you can spell.” She turned the page of her magazine once more. “By the way Miss Olivia Sanders is here, she wants to tell you something.”

“My aunt Olive is here?” James tightened up again as he turned his head to see the small 69 year old woman sitting quietly in the corner with a book of crossword puzzles. He turned his head back and gave Deputy Gonzales and dirty look, not that she was looking at him. “You let me lick my tie in front of her.” He hissed out under his breath.

“Be on time tomorrow and I won’t tell the sheriff you were late today.” And with that James could tell that the deputy was done with the conversation. He turned now to his aunt sitting in the corner. He walked slowly to her and took the orange plastic chair next to hers where he waited patiently for her to look up from her puzzle. She glanced up at one point to see him there, looked back down and scanned her page.

“Jimmy what is a four letter word that means “at no time, poetically”? The second letter is and “e”.” James thought for a second before giving his answer.

“I guess it would be Ne’er, spelled N-E apostasy E-R. It’s a contraction only poet’s use.” She scribbled with her pencil for a bit before looking up and smiling

“It fits, good lad, all that schooling was good for something.”

“Aunt Olive is that the reason you came all the way down here is it?” James was trying as hard as he could to give his aunt a sideways look of displeasure. She simply patted his cheek.

“Don’t make that face dear, it’s very unbecoming.” James let out a sigh and heard a ruffle of paper from behind the counter. “The reason I came was that I wanted to invite you out to dinner at my house tonight. There is a problem I think you could give me some help on.”

“Does this problem have a name and wear a skirt?”

“It might, but unlike the last time there is actually a problem.” She went back to here cross word puzzle. “And before you ask we are not calling the cops, why would we when my nephew is a Deputy Inspector?”

“Well I’m sorry Aunt Olive but I have plans for dinner tonight.” He lied. Then he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, got up and started to walk behind the counter.

“Some time this week Jimmy, I mean it.” She was not even looking up from her puzzle.

James passed through to the offices behind the counter and proceeded to a door labeled Investigations. Once inside he flopped down into a padded chair and closed his eyes. Then he heard a deep slow voice, “Was it the wheel of fortune dream again?” it was the voice of Deputy Inspector Ronny Jones, the only other investigator in the department. Ronny was six foot five, 64 years old with a mess of salt and pepper hair that never looked trimmed. James always thought he looked more like a farmer then a policeman, and it made sense, Ronny handled all the agricultural related crimes.

James opened his eyes and saw Ronny running his finger along a map of the county they had framed on the wall. “What happened?” James asked

“Another young cow was taken, I think 2 days ago but the farmer just realized this morning.”

“Where?”

“Darrel’s place, the fence on the north 40 had been cut and a trailer backed up to it.”

“Just like the other 5 cases.” James got up from the chair and sat down again behind his desk. He picked up a stack of files and shuffled through them. A few missing items and handful of car crashes, and a mugging. All procedural, all boring. He sighed again he tossed the files down again.

“You should stop sighing; you should like a love sick cow. And don’t dismiss those cases, they need to be done, people are waiting on them.”

“I’m saving them for David, he needs the practice. He should be out of court soon then we can get started. Where’s my newspaper?” James searched his desk but to no avail.

“Sheriff took it to court with him.” James sighed again. Just then Deputy Gonzales burst into the room.

Coming Back at Ya

In anticipation of finishing school in 10 weeks and the end of my school blog I have decided to bring this one out of the dust. I have pulled a selection from my National Novel Writing Month piece to share with you . over the coming weeks I will put more of the story up.

Cross County Take Out

Pat Sajak shifted the cards in his hands as he smiled for the audience. “Let’s get to know our contestants a little better shall we. In the lead is Joan Morris with $5,600. Joan is a school teacher from Norman Wisconsin and mother of 2. Next to her is Bob Barrow, bob is an accountant from Houston Texas and is holding second place with $800. And finely we have James Lee; James is a deputy inspector with the Cross County Florida Sheriffs department and holds a master’s degree in classic literature from the University of Florida, where he taught for many years. James has 0 dollars and it’s his spin so why don’t you go ahead and give the wheel a spin James.”

James Lee swallowed hard and reached down to grab the wheel of fortune. His sweaty hand gripped the wheel, pulled back and let it fly. The wheel began its circular journey and the indicators in front of each player made their familiar plunking noise. After what seemed an eternity the wheel came to a rest with one final plunk. Bankrupt again.

Pat Sajak let out a little whine at the sight of it. “That’s 6 bankrupts in a row James; I think that’s a new record for us here. Well Joan it’s your turn to spin.” As Joan gave the wheel a spin James looked across to the half solved puzzle on the board. The letters and spacing made no sense to him, even if he had gotten a chance to pick a letter he was not sure he could have. Fear welled up inside of him, the kind of fear he had not known for a long time. A glance a Vanna White only made things worse, she was looking disapprovingly at James shaking here head. Her eyes seemed to say “I expected more from you.”

James Lee woke up in a panic, tossing blankets off of him and jumping to his feet. Nothing was moving in his bedroom, he was all alone and with a glance at his clock realized he was going to be late for work. After a shave and shower he had almost shaken off the remaining remnants of his dream, and by the time he finished dressing for work he was sure that he would not think about it again for the rest of the day. As he left his home he grabbed the pizza box off his table and shook it, two more pieces would be breakfast on his drive to work. He locked the door behind him, emptied the box of its contents and tossed it on top of his trashcan with the six others, all from Primo’s Pronto Pizza, and all had held large pepperoni and green pepper.

It was September, and overcast. Humidity was like a pelage on the land and it made everything warm and sticky, but when the wind blew it was cold. James wore a tan shirt black tie and brown sports coat. His 9 mm. was tucked up against his hip and his badge was in his breast pocket, at lest he thought it was, when he patted the spot to make sure he felt nothing. Quickly he padded all of his pockets before he found it in his left outside jacket pocket.

James got in his tan 2002 Jeep Liberty and tossed a slice on the passenger piece as he put the other in his mouth. A look in the review mirror told him that he had forgotten to put any gel in his short brown hair, the humidity would wreck havoc on it all day.