C Weaver - Silent River

Jake continued. “We know that at least one of the boy’s parents have connections they used to order the hit. We don’t know who ordered it, so, in essence, we know nothing.” He slammed his fist on the table. The women jumped at the noise.

“What about James?” Barbara questioned. “He seemed to be the front runner at first. Where does he stand? Is he mentioned?”

Robert nodded. “It bothered me a bit that he seemed to take a back seat in all this. I think he was the go-between. He had access to Kelly, She may have not mentioned him specifically, but I’ll bet he was in on it. Wouldn’t she have written all that in her diary though?”

Barbara and Lorene both shook their heads. “Sometimes things that are common knowledge aren’t written down, You think you’ll always remember them. She must have been with James enough times so it was familiar.”

Robert held up his hand, then slowly laid it, palm down, on the table. “This is true, that is why I wanted to talk about this. We have proof, written by Kelly and backed by Angie, that there were drugs, underage drinking, and rapes going on at these parties. We have Kelly’s account of what happened to her in her own words. If need be, we can get Angie to give a deposition of what happened to her. All this is worthless in a court of law, if the judge suppresses it. We have no smoking gun, so to speak, that we can point at any of these boys. What do we do with this evidence?”

“How would a judge suppress it?” Lorene asked.

Jake hugged her. “We didn’t exactly obtain the evidence during an investigation. We bought the furniture, which was then our property, and we can do what we want with it. Getting it into evidence for a court case, we have to prove we obtained it legally and the judge has to agree that it was obtained properly. Let’s say Judge Kaeding was the officiating judge; he would find any way possible to suppress the evidence. That is, if it were even there when the case came to trial. Evidence has a way of disappearing from the evidence locker at times. Right, Robert?”

“As much as I would like to say no, it isn’t true, there is corruption everywhere, and sometimes things get lost, I’ve been told.” He was thinking of the paint chips.

There was silence around the table. Jake broke it. “Our hands are tied. We know the truth, but it only sets the knowledge free; we can’t bring it to the public for judgment.”

The phone rang, and everyone jumped at the sound. Barbara stood and went to the phone looking at the others. “Should I answer it?”

Robert joined her, picked up the receiver, and held it to his ear. He didn’t speak.

“Are you having a nice chat?” It was the same voice that had called him at work earlier.

“What do you want?” Robert ground out in a low voice.

“You must be close with the typist from the pool, if she lets you answer her phone. I just wanted you to know that you are being watched and not to make any rash decisions.” The voice sounded distorted, as if something covered the mouthpiece.

“Why do you think we have any decisions to make? What are you afraid of? The murder happened ten months ago, if you know so much about what is going on in the department, why are you harassing us?”

“I heard about your report to Arnie. He is worried you might find more evidence that could cost him his job or retirement. You wouldn’t want that to happen to your friend and mentor. After all, he’s done for you, kept you out of the line of fire when everything went down.”

“He had nothing to do with me keeping my job. The investigation found me clean. I don’t take payoffs.”

“And don’t you think we can manufacture documents that prove you do?” There was a harsh laugh.

Robert didn’t answer that. “Why are you calling here? We’re having a nice evening with friends, and you’re ruining it.”

“You go on back to your cake and coffee and don’t forget what I said.” There was a click and the phone line disconnected. He replaced the receiver and returned to the table.

He looked at Barbara, there was a tiny seed of doubt. She couldn’t possibly be working both sides.

“What did he say?” Jake asked.

“I don’t know for sure, but this apartment might be bugged. He even knew we were eating cake and drinking coffee.”

“I’ll have the boys come and sweep it tomorrow.” Barbara stood, outraged at the thought.

Robert went to the window and pulled the curtain aside to peek out. Then he went to the opposite side. “I don’t see any cars or trucks out there, but I can’t see the entire street.”

“I had the window open a little when I was baking this afternoon. Anyone watching would have seen me put the cake on the counter to cool, and then later I frosted it on the kitchen table by the window, and the curtains were open.” She put her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with the realization she was being watched.

“Let’s not panic.” Robert joined the others. “I think we should keep all this to ourselves. There is no purpose in opening this up to the public.”

Jake’s hand formed a fist. “It’s not fair! We have the proof of what happened and the names. They should be brought to justice for what they did.”

“Honey, we all wish for that. Sometimes we just have to let it be what it is.” Lorene kissed his clenched jaw.

“That kind of put a damper on the party. Are we all in accord with this? We will leave the case as unsolved, and maybe sometime in the future the story will be brought out.” Robert stood with his arm around Barbara while Jake helped Lorene gather Elizabeth’s toys. The baby had fallen asleep on the blanket.

“I wish we could all be that innocent,” Barbara whispered.

Alone in the kitchen after the plates and cups were washed and put away, Robert pulled Barbara into his arms, “Speaking of the future.” He pressed his lips to hers.

The idea of presenting what evidence they had seemed impossible. Robert ran the process over in his mind while driving the mile to his house. When he turned the corner, bright lights from a car parked across from his home almost blinded him.

He frowned as he reached for his gun and turned into his driveway. Turning off the engine and lights, he sat a moment. The car behind him didn’t move. Opening the door, he kept his eyes on the side mirror and stepped out to face the street.

The lights of the car in the street went dark. The door opened, but Robert couldn’t see inside. The driver stepped out and opened the back door. Robert watched as black shoes stepped out of the car. A tall man stood and adjusted his suit coat and hat.

Robert wondered what he paid for the entire outfit, probably more than he made in six months. The man nodded to his two bodyguards as he crossed the street, walking up the driveway to meet Robert.

“Hello, you’re Detective Robert Collins.” The man stopped but didn’t hold his hand out to shake Robert’s hand.

Robert nodded. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir.”

“Who I am isn’t important. It’s who I represent. I’ve heard you went to the estate sale of the Stevens family.”

Robert didn’t respond. Apparently, the man knew he’d been there and was probably aware he’d bought two items. He’d wait for the man to make a move.

“Why did you buy a desk of Kelly’s and a dresser of Mr. and Mrs. Stevens?” The man stood in a relaxed state. His feet slightly spread, and his hands were folded at his waist.

Robert didn’t answer. The man leaned forward. “I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

“I wasn’t sure you did. You seem to have all the answers so why ask a question to which you’re well aware of the answer.” Robert stood in a relaxed but attentive stance. The late summer night had cooled, and he wore a cardigan, which covered the gun tucked in his belt. He shrugged his shoulders and felt the comforting nudge of his piece against his backbone.