Caster-Uncoverings Part 1

Caster

Uncovering

 

1.

“Right behind you Detective.” The officer behind John said, as he and a team of them prepared to bust down the door of Kurt Stryker’s home. Kurt had been suspected and eventually been proven by John to be the murderer of his wife just three days ago. John aligned himself with the middle of the green door of the house that he and his team of officers were about to raid. On either side, two task force members stood, armed to the teeth, with their SMG’s leaning lightly against the green wooden doorframe. Their bodyarmor was black, covering them nearly from head to toe, the only organic sight being their face which was covered by a visor.

Two officers, wearing standard Silverbanks Police uniforms underneath a bulletproof vest, stood, with their pistols drawn, waiting for a green light from John to raid the house.

“On three.” John whispered, and braced himself to kick down the door. “One….two….three” he hissed, and leapt forward, planting a solid kick into the center of the door, and blasting it open.

“Silverbanks Police freeze!!!” John yelled, as the rest of the officers filed in behind him.

“Sanders, you take the second floor, we’ll do the living room and everything else down here.” John ordered. Two officers followed him around the first floor. The house was small, much like the one where he and Carl and confronted Adrian Keller before. Property tax in California was astronomical, so large houses weren’t as much a commodity as they were out in the east. He and the two officers squeezed around the haggardly arranged dining room, with grocery bags strewn helter skelter, and a milk carton lying open on the table.

John wrinkled his nose at its spoiled stench as he rounded the corner to the kitchen.

“Sir!! We got him!!” One of the task force members said from upstairs just as John entered the kitchen. He ran to the stairs, as the team pulled a red faced, red eyed, and drunken Kurt Stryker down the stairs.

“I didn’t do it!! I didn’t do it!! Fuck that bitch!!! I did it!!!”

“The fuck?” John smirked. “Did you, or did you not kill your wife.” He asked, for his own amusement.

“I don’t know…” Kurt said looking over at John with pleading eyes. And in those eyes John saw years of substance abuse. The veins bulged around Kurt’s temples, and seemed to cause his eyes to bulge out of their sockets as well. His teeth, at least the few that were still in his mouth were dirty and chipped.

“Kurt Stryker, you are under arrest for the murder of your wife Jessica Stryker. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do, can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to hire a lawyer to present with you while you are being questioned. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed to represent you at the county’s expense, if you wish. If you give up your right to remain silent, and later wish to stop answering questions, no further questions will be asked. Do you understand these rights as I have stated them to you?” John said firmly, turning Kurt around by the shoulder, and slapping a pair of handcuffs onto his wrists.

“Dumb piece of shit fuckin’ bitch. Should’ve given her to the goddamn hooker butcher. She’dve chopped up that whore!!” Kurt yelled as he was escorted out to the squad car.

 

 

John got into his Impala, and closed the door, waiting for the cruisers to pull away before backing up. He wore a buttoned shirt with a tie perfectly aligned with his neck, looking sharp as needed for work. He wore tan khaki pants that were buttoned around his loosely tucked in shirt. His leather shoes had been polished and nearly glistened in the sunlight that filtered through the window. In the backseat however, lay the clothes he’d worn the night he’d walked in on Danielle’s affair. Yellow, tarnished, and dirtied as they had been just after he’d returned from the confrontation with Adrian Keller, the man who’d kidnapped and killed Anne Richards, and murdered her husband as well.

As he pulled out, John drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He aligned himself with the street, and shifted the Impala into drive, and started for Headquarters. It was hard to believe, that Danielle’s affair had only been a few days ago. At least, that was when he witnessed it. Beside him on the passenger seat, he had his room-key from the local Super Motel 8. He picked it up and propped it against the dashboard, beside the gearbox, looking at the 8 that was illuminated by the sun.

He made a left turn onto the main road and picked up the card, turning it over in his hands, as he rolled to a stop in front of the stoplight at the intersection. Home was the last place he needed to be…

John took the scenic route to Headquarters, which still involved passing through the downtown. He pulled up at the right most parking lot that stood adjacent to HQ, and got out of his car.

 

After the usual squeaky, unlubricated ride up in the elevator, John was greeted by a flood of applause and compliments on his job arresting Kurt. Officers patted his back, and he could even feel some of the women reaching in between his legs. But he simply stared ahead, a nice PR smile covering the inner turmoil that raged within his mind. In five days he’d kicked his unfaithful wife out of his house, moved out himself, and lived in a hotel a little over half an hour away. As he returned to his desk, he snorted to himself at how impossible it was to outrun his life’s problems.

John turned on his computer and prepared to type his report. To his right was a half empty box of donuts.

“ugh.” John wrinkled his nose at the disgusting Boston Crème Filled donuts. Just the mere sight of the white cream dripping out of the solitary hole in the donut disgusted him…though most things seemed to irritate John since the incident with Danielle.

“Who blasted you in the face Caster?” Mallory had mocked a few years back, when some of the white cream had spilled onto John’s cheek. He’d come close enough to taking the pen on his desk, and jabbing it into Mallory’s eye.

John turned back to his computer and began to type the report.

 

 

 

In 20 minutes he had compiled the report and submitted it. Just as he was about to lean back in his chair, and take a stretch break, Mallory’s beautiful voice proceeded to increase the unease he already faced.

“Surprise Caster. You wanted a partner, you got one, much to the distaste of the Chief if I might add. But I’m sure there’s some fucking solace in the fact that the Chief gives half a shit about you.” Sergeant Mallory said, towering over John.

“Who am I working with?” John sighed, standing up.

“Why? Don’t tell me you already forgot your bromance Caster…Detective Carl Jones, this is Detective John Caster.” Mallory went on to make the unnecessary introduction. Carl stepped around Mallory and extended his hand.

“Don’t worry Caster, he ain’t giving you a hand job.” Mallory snickered before turning back to his office. “I’ll let you two girls settle things.”

“ ‘sup.” Carl said, flashing a quick smile. Had he forgotten John’s distaste already? John decided to be a little rude and remind him, by letting Carl’s hand hang in front of him for a few moments before half-heartedly shaking it.

“Nothin’”

“Just got a call man, woman was kidnapped from her home in Dunne Avenue, and found butchered in front of some brothel in Essex. Can’t go in there alone man…I requested your help.”

John scoffed, and put his hands on his hips, looking out the window at the cityscape to the right of Headquarters.

“Look, first off…it ain’t ‘we’ yet. Second, I don’t know if you’re a goldfish or something…but last I checked, we don’t get along.” John said, lips pursed. “So yeah, I’ll work with you on this case, but we’re not a fuckin’ team.”

“Look man, I’m willing to put that shit behind me yo okay. I ain’t mad at you. I ain’t holdin’ anythin’ against you.” Carl reassured, his hands going up as if in surrender. “I don’t want no trouble.”

“Then why the fuck did you think it was a good idea to be partners.”

“Whatever man.” Carl sighed. “Let’s get this over with.” He said and turned towards the elevator.

 

 

 

 

 

 

2.

The ride to Essex County would take a while with the traffic that surrounded them.

“So man…how’ve you been?” Carl asked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, and looking over at John. “Long time huh? I mean…since the case with Keller?” John asked.

“What’re you nervous or something? That why you’re making small talk?” John asked, not bothering to look back at Carl.

“Listen man, I’m just trying to bury the hatchet. And yeah, FYI, I’m not too thrilled about going into Essex.”

“Why not?” John scoffed. “Sure it’s violent but there’ll at least be three or four patrol officers on scene there.”

“Never mind man.” Carl said and turned his attention back to the traffic jam.

John sighed, and shifted around in his seat.

“Look, I’m sorry okay…my day’s been okay.” John said, chuckling in a frustrated manner. “I don’t understand your emphasis on small talk. We’ve got a case on our plate and all you can seem to think about is how my day was. Nobody gives a fuck about you, or me, or anybody else in the organization. It’s the case that matters.”

“Chill out dude.” Carl said, his voice suddenly raising, though not malicious in tone. “I just wanna talk is all. What do you wanna run the same details over in your head again, and again till we get to the crime scene…come on man?”

“Well, we could just shut up…just a suggestion.” John said and turned away from Carl.

“Jeez man, what side of the bed did you get up on?”

“Not the same side as you, that’s for sure.” John scoffed.

“Yeah, you’re too pissed off to have done that.”

“What’s your deal man, I don’t feel like talking okay. When we’re at the job, we focus on the job. When we’re away, we focus on ourselves. I don’t got time for this.” John waved off Carl’s attempt at conversation.

“We’re working together man, might as well get to know each other.” Carl smiled, flashing all his white teeth in John’s face.

“No wonder they kicked you out of burglary.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m that awesome.” Carl replied.

“The nerve you got man…” John chuckled, once again out of frustration.

“Hey yo, I was the loudest kid in my neighborhood.” Carl said. The traffic finally began to move forward and Carl shifted the Crown Victoria into drive, and started to roll the car forward. “Grandmother said she could hear me three blocks down.”

“Well that’s great…now let’s see if you can break the record the other way, and shut up for the next half hour. Where’re you from anyway?” John asked looking over at him.

Carl simply stared ahead at the traffic.

“Hey, I’m asking you a question?!” John said…

“I thought you wanted me to shut the hell up for the next half an hour.” Carl said, trying hard to stifle a laugh.

“Alright, answer my question, and then shut the hell up. So where’re you from?”

“Essex County.”

“So you grew up there, what’s your fuckin’ problem?”

Carl sighed and looked over at John as he made a right turn, and raised his eyebrows.

“Man, being from a place doesn’t make it home.” He chuckled.

“Look, I didn’t major in pothead philosophy, and I didn’t minor in being a hippie either, so just…don’t talk riddles with me.”

“Just mean I don’t particularly like the place that’s all…”

“Crime, all that shit…I reckon nobody would…” John said.

“Yup.”

“Look, I think there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I could say the same thing to you. Here’s the deal, you tell me your story, and I tell you mine…fair and square.”

“Oh, just shut the hell up.” John said, and waved Carl’s offer away.

 

3.

As Carl entered Essex County, he had to admit the first sight he saw left him refreshed. A police officer was playing baseball in front of an elementary school with some of the students. Part of Silverbanks PD’s program to reform inner-city youth. One of the kids looked over and waved at Carl, and Carl winked in return and gave him a thumbs up before driving off.

Carl looked to a side and saw that John had barely budged, just staring dead ahead at the dilapidated architecture of Essex County. As promised, he had shut the hell up until the crime scene.

They took a right turn onto DeVry Street and pulled up in front of the police tape that surrounded the brothel.

“Only reason they seem to call us down here’s ‘cause the victim is from outside of Essex.” Carl said before getting out.

“Whatever.” John muttered, and stepped out as well, slamming the door as he walked up to the police tape.

“ Wassup fellas? How we holdin’ up?” Carl said in a cheerful manner, to the patrol officers that had surrounded the scene. He showed them his badge before stepping under the tape.

“Didn’t have any breakfast yet right Detective?” one of them said with raised eyebrows.

“Only cereal.” Carl joked back. He could feel John glowering at him from the corner as he stepped under the tape behind him.

 

 

4.

John walked fast and outpaced Carl to the victim’s body. The CSI team was still busy taking their photographs and looking for fingerprints as John stood examining the body with keen eyes.

The woman had been stripped naked, and butchered…that was the most basic way to describe the scenario. The butchered parts had then been so pristinely rearranged as they were before. If she’d been clothed, it’d have been near impossible to determine that she’d been butchered.

“Poor girl.” Carl said, raising his eyebrow.

“Go ask CSI what they’ve got.” John ordered Carl and pointed over to the door of the brothel where the CSI team hurried about.

“Okay, boss-man.”

“And you can loose the smart tone anytime.” John snapped looking at Carl. Carl smiled, as usual, raising his hands up as if in surrender and proceeded to talk to the CSI team.

John looked back at the body. The victim’s pupils were dilated, perhaps the result of a drug that had been administered prior to her being butchered. The cuts were precise, all exactly parallel to each other. An untrained eye wouldn’t even have noticed them. The arms were sliced in three places, like her legs, and her torso had been sliced in the middle. The head was severed at the base of the neck, and her hands and feet remained attached to the segment of the limb that was severed.

“CSI team says the killer was a pro. Hardly found a single fingerprint on the body, or in the brothel. Can’t even get a proper time on when the body was placed here. We can do a canvas on the neighborhood, but I don’t expect to find anything.”

“You don’t expect to find anything.” John said, looking up and breathing out in frustration. “It’s thinking like that which creates cold cases. You can’t say you don’t expect to find something…it’s like science Carl. You can’t conclude anything until you do the experiment. Have you done the canvas?”

“No man, but I was just saying, chillax. I’ll do the canvas. Man, we gotta get a beer sometime man, ‘cause you’re in shit creek…way up shit creek.”

“Just do the Canvas.” John said.

“Well, okay…mind telling me what you got on the body?”

“Do the canvas, and we’ll share notes after.” John said and grumbled, walking away from Carl.

“Alright man, that’s cool. I’ll just…do the canvas.”

 

5.

The fuck’s gotten under his skin? Carl thought as he pulled out his note pad and prepared to carry out a full canvas of the block. As he was about to leave the crime scene and head to the apartment building across the street,

“Carl!!” John yelled and clapped a firm hand on his shoulder.  

“Yeah, sup?”

“Maybe start at the scene of the crime?” John said and pointed into the brothel.

“Oh, pssh…we can do that after man. It doesn’t make much difference. Carl said and scratched his forehead as he walked back towards the building.

“Carl…” John seethed.

“Fine, I gotcha.”

“Jesus Christ man, get your shit straight.” John hissed, shoving Carl towards the entrance.

 

 

Inside, the atmosphere was strangely smoky. The origins of the smoke it was hard to tell, but seeing the number of stoned, busty prostitutes that lay around on couches, or idly chatting with each other, it wasn’t hard to tell. Especially, as the smell of marijuana got stronger as he went to the center. The most stable of the lot sat idly in her black lingerie, twiddling her thumbs. Lipstick had been lathered across her lips and quite a bit in excess, to the point where Carl felt just a gentle touch of a napkin to her lips would drench it completely. Her eyeliner stretched almost till her ears and her eye lashes curled far too high. Yet underneath that superficial shell he felt lay something beautiful, but of course…now was hardly the time.

“Hello, beautiful.” Caster started.

“All you cops sleazebags?” she scoffed.

“Only the best of us.” Carl chuckled and sat down in the small wooden chair across from her.