Frank Zafiro - Some Degree of Murder

In the drawer beside the bed, I found a postcard. On the front was a picture of the clock tower in Riverfront Park with the city slogan. River City. Near nature. Near perfect . I flipped it over and saw the beginnings of a letter in feminine hand.

Queridisima Prima , the letter began. ?Como estas? I got a good job here, working at the grocery store. It pays well and because I speak Spanish they said they might make me a manager.

That was all she had written. I wondered if it were true for a moment, that she had started work at a grocery store, but guessed it was a lie. Who writes home and tells the ugly truth? The postcard wasn’t addressed, so that was no help.

I slipped the postcard into a small paper bag and initialed the bag near the top.

The bottom drawer of the nightstand was empty, except for the standby Gideon Bible. I almost closed the drawer, but then I noticed something. Reaching inside, I pulled out the Bible and examined it. There were two bookmarks. I opened to the first one. It was in Psalms. None of the chapters or verses were marked in any way. I flipped to the second bookmark. It was in the book of Matthew. Once again, no marked passages.

I made an X on both book marked pages, in case the bookmarks fell out and slid the Bible into an evidence bag. Wandering over to the door, I glanced outside to see where Billings was. He wasn’t at the door. I looked down at their car and saw him seated in the driver’s seat, reading a paperback. I shook my head in disgust.

“What’s wrong?” Lindsay asked. He held a bag full of toiletries and was initialing the top.

I thumbed toward Billings. “Your partner’s a lot of help.”

Lindsay stepped over and looked outside. His face showed no surprise. When he looked back at me, he said, “He’s, uh…he’s about ready to retire.”

“Ready? I’d say he already has and the paperwork just hasn’t caught up to him yet.”

“He works his cases,” Lindsay said weakly.

I gave him a knowing look. “I’ll bet he does. I’ll bet he works the hell out of them.”

“His clearance rate — “

“Let me guess. His clearance rate is satisfactory. Which means he works just enough cases to keep Crawford off his back and suspends the rest because he’s just too busy.”

Lindsay didn’t answer. I could see he was torn between defending his partner and admitting the truth. I had to wonder how much slack he was picking up for Billings, but I didn’t ask him.

There was a silence. Then I asked, “Would you and Billings mind helping me put this stuff on the books? It’ll go faster.”

He waved me off. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll get it. Go on home.”

I wished I could. But I had at least one more job to do tonight.

“Thanks, Lindsay.” I told him.

“Sure.”

We packed the bags down to their car and loaded them into the trunk. Billings didn’t look too pleased about the prospect of checking in the items at property.

I gave Peggy the key to the room and told her we were finished. She took the key from me without a word.

Lindsay and Billings drove off and I started my car. The phone booted up and I dialed. Three rings and Teri answered. Our conversation was short and she said staying with Ben was no problem. We said our goodbyes and I hung up.

The streetlights were coming on as I pulled out onto Sprague and headed east toward the Club Tip Top.

VIRGIL

After I knocked, I could hear footsteps run to the door. The heavy wood door swung open and a young, dark-haired girl stood in the doorway. She wore tight black shorts and a black sports bra over barely forming breasts. Sweat was on her forehead and I could hear a workout program on the television in the front room.

“Natalia?” I asked.

She eyed me with suspicion.

“I need to ask you some questions about Fawn Taylor.”

Her eyes softened.

“You’re Natalia?”

“Yeah,” she said with the barest of accents. It was probably a learned trait from other household members and she’d lose it completely by the time she was an adult.

“Can I come in and talk with you?”

She shook her head. “No one’s allowed to come inside when my parents aren’t here.”

“Can we sit on the front steps then?”

She thought about it for a moment before stepping out of the house and pulling the door shut behind her. We both sat down on the concrete steps that led to her front porch. The taxi that I took to meet Natalia waited down the block, its engine running along with the fare meter.

Natalia looked me up and down, no doubt taking in the black pants, tan polo shirt and black jacket. “Are you a cop? Because I’ve already talked to the cops.”

“I’m not the police.”

“Then who are you?”

I shrugged. “I’m like a detective. Sort of.”

Her face brightened. “Ah,” she said with a big smile. “You’re a private detective, like in the movies.”

I smiled. “Something like that. You said the police came to see you?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t like the one who came,” she said with a shake of her head. “He was mean to me.”

“Mean?”

“Yeah, I don’t think he liked me because I’m Russian. He asked about Fawn. He tried to pretend he was my friend, Fawn’s friend, but I didn’t believe it. He kept looking around my house as he talked.”

I stared at her for a moment, not knowing what to say to that.

“Are you going to find who killed Fawn?” she asked, breaking the silence.

”Yes.”

She stared at me waiting for my questions.

“Natalia, did Fawn use drugs?”

She lowered her head and stared at her white Reeboks.

“I know she was using something. I just don’t know what it was.”

She nodded without looking at me. “We use to smoke a little chronic together.”

I rubbed my hands together. “I’m not talking weed. I’m talking something harder. Something that would make her run away.”

“We went to a party with a bunch of guys we met at the mall. Fawn was really hot for this guy named Malcolm. At the party Malcolm asks us if we want to get high. We both said yeah. That’s when Malcolm took out a glass pipe.”

“Crack?”

“Yeah, I thought he was talking about smoking some dope when he said get high. So did Fawn. But when I saw it was something else, I didn’t want any part of it. I tried to make Fawn leave with me, but she wouldn’t. She really liked Malcolm and wanted to impress him. She told me she was going to stay and I left her. I ended up calling my brother to come pick me up and bring me home.”

“Did Fawn say what happened?”

“She said she got high with Malcolm and they had sex. She said he wasn’t very good at it, though.” Natalia smiled at the thought.

I rubbed my hands over my face. “Did Fawn have sex before Malcolm?”

Natalia glanced at me sideways. “We all have. Boys don’t want no girl who won’t hook up. If you don’t put out, you don’t go out. It’s as simple as that. That’s the rules.”

A tricked-out Honda sped by, its stereo pumping out bass and its exhaust system revealing the car had an after-market muffler.

“How old is Malcolm?”

Natalia leaned back on her elbows, pushing her small breasts outward. “Nineteen.”

“Nineteen? Why would Fawn hang out with someone that old?”

Natalia shook her head at me. “Because he’s hot. Because he’s got a job. Because he’s got a car.”

“Where’s he work?”

She sat up and rubbed her arms. “At the Denny’s on Sprague. He washes dishes and stuff.”

“You know where he lives?”