Steve’s shorts: Mayhem, Murder, and Music’s The Tightrope Walker…Part Two of Three
[Note from Steve: I’ve decided to title this series of short stories suggested by musical pieces as above, so don’t be surprised to see a short story collection later on that sports this title. For now, you can read them for free and find it, along with the others, in “Steve’s Shorts.” This one is inspired by the Second Movement of Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G. If you think that dude is an impressionist/jazz composer, think again. This music is about as romantic as you can get. Enjoy.]
The Tightrope Walker, Part Two of Three
Copyright 2015, Steven M. Moore
Cynthia had become involved in theater in college. I began snooping around in that world and discovered a nexus with Yuri through Arthur Hill. While Hill clearly didn’t have time now to spend the summer at a convent in a theater group, he had acted while in college. Before becoming engrossed in his work, he had also acted in a local theater with Cynthia.
“Hill played Romeo and Cynthia Juliet in one production,” said the director of that thespian group. “I’ll have to say they both gave it their all. Our local rag said something like ‘lust over love in the new Romeo and Juliet production,” if I recall. It was quite the success, at least on our level.”
“Was Yuri Ledovskoy present at any of the rehearsals or functions?” I said.
“Can’t help you there. I don’t know the fellow, and I pay no attention to who’s in the audience. The theater’s dark anyway. I do recall both Cynthia and Arthur saying they practiced their lines with someone. Maybe that was Ledovskoy? No, I take it back. It was a woman. Maybe one of Cynthia’s friends. God knows, it was so long ago.”
I handed him my card. “If you happen to remember the woman’s name, call me. Did Cynthia and Arthur seem close outside the production?”
“Not really. There was just a lot of chemistry on stage. I didn’t see much off.”
“Did Cynthia ever mention a boyfriend or someone she wanted to be with?”
“My dear, I think Cynthia pursued many males. She even pursued me and was furious when she found out I’m gay.” He shrugged. “Not much I could do about that, right?”
“I guess not.” I could commiserate with Cynthia’s disappointment. The director was a good-looking hunk.
***
Two days before Cynthia was due back from her summer theater sojourn, I had developed quite a background file on the case. My lieutenant was getting antsy as the pile of caseloads on my desk grew. And we seemed to have much more to do because the uniforms spent more time on the street now. “Integrating with the community,” the Commish called it. Or, was that the mayor? Having once been in uniform, I know for a fact that uniforms were a great help to detectives, offloading a lot of grunt work in solving crimes. I missed that now as a detective.
“No leads yet?” he said.
He always looked tired. I didn’t envy his job, running a bunch of detectives, fending off the media, and taking crap from his bosses, all the time doing more paper-pushing than actual criminal investigation. He was the boss, though.
I shook my head. “Wild kids, many jealousies, but nothing I can call motive for murder. Forensics came up with zilch. The gun was never found, but, from the unusual slug, the ammo used was probably bought in a Georgia gun show and brought back here.”
“We’ll have to go into cold storage then. Not good. You OK with that?”
“I have one more thing to check. There’s something missing from Tara’s background. She was adopted after spending time with some foster families, but she had a juvie record that’s sealed. I’m trying to unseal it. Judge Sanders is waffling.”
“With good reason, I suppose. Keep working on him.”
I met with Sanders’ assistant, not the judge.
“Juvenile records are sealed to protect the person. We need a good reason to unseal them.”
“How ‘bout suspicion of murder?”
The assistant shook his head. “Not even that, because the record might be completely unrelated and never allowed in trial anyway.” The young attorney smiled. “Why don’t you describe the case? If I can determine some relation, it might help your cause when I present it to the judge, assuming I decide that happens.”
After getting him to promise confidentiality—his ears and maybe the judge’s only—I laid out the case.
“I’m not supposed to do your work for you, but you have three possible suspects already. Ms. Brock has a rep of being a jealous person. Mr. Hill could have been jealous of Yuri because Cynthia was stalking Yuri and not HIll. Mr. Brock could think that eliminating Yuri would make his daughter get a life. So, why are you looking at Tara? Because she has a juvenile record? That doesn’t sit well with me. It won’t with the judge either.”
I agreed with his assessment of the case except for Cynthia’s father. I hadn’t thought of that angle, but I still didn’t value it much either.
“Mr. Brock could have wanted to protect his daughter because Yuri was a lowly circus performer.”
“That too. I think Cynthia is your main POI. Jealousy’s a powerful emotion.”
“And not just for women,” I said, thinking of Hill. “But Tara could be jealous. If her record suggests problems with jealousy, doesn’t that make her a POI?”
“Maybe. Again, that record probably wouldn’t be admissible in a trial.”
“Have you read that juvenile record?”
“I will and get back to you tomorrow. Don’t get your hopes up, though.”
***
Next morning, I was thumbing through the folders corresponding to my case backlog, resigned to the fact that Yuri’s murder would become yet another cold case, when Sawyer’s assistant called.
“We need to talk. Judge’s chambers, eleven o’clock.”
As Holmes often said, “The game is afoot.” But I didn’t know what to expect. I still had time to prioritize my future cases before I left. One way or the other, Yuri’s case would probably end.
I knew and respected old Judge Sawyer. He was a grandfatherly figure, a no-nonsense kind of guy, both strict and fair. He didn’t tolerate grandstanding in his court room and would throw everyone out if the crowd became rowdy. He also wasn’t known for letting jurors get away with not reaching a verdict when he thought they should come up with one. DAs and cops like that.
His assistant and I sat facing him. He sat behind a large but simple desk. His quarters were utilitarian, dark, and brooding. Dressed casually and out of his robe, with hair a bit awry and bushy eyebrows, he could be a mystery writer churning out short stories and novels in the seclusion of his study.
He handed me a bunch of papers. “Ms. Finley’s juvenile records, Sgt. O’Connell. My assistant has blacked out certain names, allowing you to focus on the main protagonists in Ms. Finley’s tale of woe.”
“Meaning I can’t know who they are and determine if they’re relevant to my case?”
“Conclude what you want, but I assure you those names aren’t relevant. They’re mostly attorneys, social workers, and a few psychologists, and they shall remain nameless to you.”
“Can I have a minute to read this?”
“Be my guest. Todd, can you have Mrs. Hicks bring in some coffee.”
The assistant nodded, and I began to read. After coffee arrived and Mrs. Hicks left, I finished and waved the papers. “This is clearly relevant. Tara killed her father and stepmother. Was she acquitted because she was bipolar?”
“Partly,” said the assistant. “The record says ‘she flew into a jealous rage.’ But the father was both a philanderer—the reason for his divorce—and was sexually abusing Tara, while the stepmother looked the other way. The father’s stepping out on even the stepmother was considered the tipping point.”
“That’s a pretty good summary, Todd,” said Sawyer. “So, Sgt. O’Connell, there’s relevance to your case. But without evidence, I think you’re stymied.”
I nodded. “Unless I can prove Tara was off her meds again.”
***
One week later, the cold case became hot again. Four suspects were reduced to three. Tara was found dead in her circus trailer. No gun again, but the bullets were determined to be the same by our CSU. I left the crime scene shaking my head.
“You now have a serial killer,” said my lieutenant. “Any ideas?”
“Maybe Cynthia Brock wasn’t satisfied,” I said. “But when I talked to her, she seemed distraught about Yuri’s killing. I’ll have to see her again, of course.”
“What about the other two? Still POIs?”
“Cynthia’s father and Arthur Hill don’t seem likely. It could be someone from the circus. I’ll have to look over my notes and revisit some of them too.”
“Get on it, then. The killer might strike again sooner than later. Even the Times is making this into another Son-of-Sam case.”
“There aren’t any messages taunting the police,” I said. Serial killers often do that, even with media recognition. “Let the media go wild. What do I care?”
“You’ll care if I care, and I’ll care if the Commissioner starts riding my ass. You know the pecking order.”
I nodded. And the Commissioner was hassled by the Mayor who’s hassled by the press. Big city crime fighting had too much politics.
“What about my other cases?”
“Hand the current one off to Mathers, who’s sitting on his hands right now. The others will wait.”
Great, I thought. Now I had to spend time bringing Mathers up to date, and, if he solved the case, he’d get all the credit. Sometimes I just can’t catch a break.
***
“Do I need a lawyer?” Cynthia said, looking at her father.
I nodded to Mr. Brock but refocused on his daughter. “Understand where I’m coming from. Your motive is clear to anyone. You were upset that Yuri picked Tara over you, so you shot them both. Do you own a gun? Be forewarned that I can search the premises.”
“Not without a search warrant,” said Mr. Brock. “But go ahead and answer the question, Cynthia.”
“No, I don’t own a gun. I go to the gun range with Daddy sometimes—they lend me a rifle or pistol. The only guns in the house are hunting rifles.”
“I’d like to correct that. I have a Glock in my desk in a locked drawer. Cynthia didn’t know that.”
“With the security here, why do you need a gun?” said Cynthia.
That was going to be my question. I waited for his answer. I knew it would be irrelevant. A Glock hadn’t killed Yuri or Tara, not with those slugs.
“I haven’t taken it out except to clean and oil it periodically,” he said. “I bought it legally when Cynthia was away at college. You’re right, it’s stupid with all the security, but all the same, the house was burglarized. That’s on record. The burglar turned out to be one of the hired help. I fired her but wouldn’t press charges. The woman was in financial straits.”
I would check his story, but it sounded reasonable. “What about summer homes, cabins, and what not?”
“Not all rich people are snowbirds or have hunting lodges,” Mr. Brock said. “I prefer not to be tied down to one vacation spot. I’m as likely to go fishing or hunting in Minnesota as to take a cruise to Atlantis. I like variety. And I still work for a living.”
“While a search warrant might be required later on,” I said, “and/or a lawyer, let’s change the subject: can either of you think of anyone who had it in for Yuri and Tara? I’ve asked that before, but maybe you’ve had more time to think about it.”
“Not a clue,” said Cynthia. Her father nodded his agreement. “I’ll have to admit I don’t give a rat’s ass about Tara, but I’m eager for you to find Yuri’s killer. He was a gentle soul who died too young.”
“I’m working on it.”
***
People have phobias about clowns. I’m one of them. More with the sad ones than the happy ones. The circus had a mix of both. Tara had been a sad clown. The boss, well over six feet, was a happy one. Enrique Jimenez crossed his legs. I tried to keep from staring at the huge shoes. His makeup was only partially removed, making him look more like a happy zombie.
“I thought this was over and done for me, but now Tara’s gone too. Two great friends. I can’t say I’m happy to see you again.”
“I guess I’ll start by asking if there are any second thoughts on your previous answers. You said Yuri and Tara were well liked. No jealous clowns here?”
“Tara came to us a bit battered by life in general. I don’t know many details, but she thrived here. Everyone liked her. Yuri was a bit of a show-off and cocky, but he was good at what he did. Everyone looked past his ego and liked him. We were happy for the two. And Yuri seemed devoted to Tara as much as she was to him. They were the perfect circus couple.”
“My knowledge of the circus is limited, coming mostly from reading Toby Tyler as a kid. Aren’t there jealousies, professional or otherwise, and different opinions about many things?”
“We’re professionals, Detective. There’s friction in any group of people, especially in one so tightly knit as ours. But we get around the inevitable squabbles. We have to. The show must go on.”
“You said that in the first interview. But both Yuri and Tara were killed here. Some would say that any circus performer in the troop is a possible suspect.”
“I’ll give you that. But here’s a thought: the same gun was used. That probably means the killer still has it. Let’s do a search to find it. Will that make you feel better?”
“Maybe. I suppose I need a warrant.”
“Maybe. Our GM can call a meeting. Everyone might agree to the search if it means we can get beyond this and on with our lives. You need to eliminate suspects. I’ll concede that we’re all suspects.”
“I read between the lines that we’d be wasting our time. Am I right?”
“I’m not saying it will be a waste, but do you know how many places you can hide a gun in a circus? It’s not going to be in a wall-mounted rack in a trailer, you know.”
I laughed. “I suppose not. But I might be back, so should I clue your GM in on your suggestion?”
“Mark Travers is a very organized man. We’ll be ready for you if you come back.”
***
Something bothered me about Jimenez’ candor. Was it all an act? Did he know more than he admitted?
I randomly sampled some other circus people, focusing on ones I hadn’t questioned before. Zero results.
I found Arthur Hill in a bar close to Wall Street.
“Detective O’Connell, what a pleasant surprise. Can I buy you a drink?”
I took a stool next to him. “’Fraid not. I’m on duty. Perrier with lime, please.” I eyed him in the mirror behind the bar. “How much of your performance as Romeo was acting?”
He laughed. “You mean, with Cynthia? That was a while ago. She would have fucked me right there on the stage, I’m sure. But I was just acting. She’s a beautiful woman and not a bad actor, as a matter of fact. It was easy to get in the zone. I’ll admit that she almost made me forget my lines a couple of times. I can lust for Cynthia, but I could never love her.”
“What about Tara?”
“She was Yuri’s girl.”
“I know that. But did you lust for her?”
“Oh, please. I liked her. Her sad clown act wasn’t all clowning, you know. Yuri said she had bouts of depression. She didn’t have a good childhood. We commiserated on that. Mine wasn’t good either. But we mostly agreed that one should forget the past, enjoy the present, and look forward to the future.”
“Together?”
“Leave it alone, Detective. We were becoming friends because Yuri was my friend. That’s the extent of it. She wasn’t even my type.”
“Were you jealous of Yuri because Cynthia was after him?”
“You’re very repetitious. I think I answered that question before, or a very similar one. The answer is no. I warned Yuri about Cynthia, and he heeded my warning. End of story. I still think she’s your number one suspect, though.”
“A convenient one, at least. Did Tara know about Cynthia?”
“Hmm. Good question. I suppose Yuri told her, but I’m not sure about that. Men tend to be a little secretive with new girlfriends and don’t want to talk about old ones. Past failures of any kind are generally taboo for a man’s ego.”
“That’s perceptive. But Cynthia wasn’t an old girlfriend.”
“But she was a bit obsessed with Yuri, ever since they were in high school. Maybe that obsession grew over the years into something really ugly.”
I was getting nowhere.
***
In elibris libertas…
