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Authors: Jerilyn Dufresne

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BOOK: 3 Can You Picture This?
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“Richie, when did you take this picture?”

“I dunno.” Richie was shaking, so I took his arm again and set him down gently on a bank on Maine Street. He looked incongruous in the midst of such glory. Yet, in another way, he fit right in since he was such a fixture in town. “I really don’t know. I’ve been out today since about 5 AM. I wanted to see if I could catch some early birds going into taverns.” He looked at me. “You know. Gossip sells on the internet. I don’t just provide pictures to the Quincy paper,” I nodded, encouraging him to continue. “Sometimes I sell them to Michael. And most of the time I don’t look at the pictures until later. I take them while I’m riding, so I can’t look at them right away. I was in some places more than once today. So it was sometime after 5 and before now.” He looked at his watch. “Between 5 and 10:30.”

The light in the picture was dim, but it wasn’t dark enough for it to be before dawn. And he said sometime he sold pictures to Michael O’Dear. Michael was the only private investigator in town, and my previous love interest. Even though he hadn’t reciprocated my feelings, I had been momentarily sure I was in love with him.

Then I got back on track and finally thought of the right thing to do. “Richie, we need to go to the police right away. I know Detective Lansing will want to know about this.” I felt warm as I mentioned his name. George Lansing had been my boyfriend in high school, and we recently reconnected.
Really
reconnected. I blushed as I thought about him, but it was a happy blush, not an embarrassed one.

I shook my head to get me back in the present. “We need to go to my house and get my car. You can leave your bike there, and I’ll bring you back to it after we’re done at the police station.”

Richie nodded his assent.

Luckily we were only a few blocks from my home. We walked to the back of my landlords’ mansion, regal with its red brick and white stone, and reached the red brick carriage house behind it. I told Richie to park his bike and to stay by my car. As usual, my house wasn’t locked and I opened the door and reached around the corner for my car keys, hanging on a hook near the door.

It felt funny not to be greeted by my Clancy, and it also felt funny having to be quiet so I didn’t wake my kids. They were seldom home any more, but Clancy usually was.

I unlocked my VW Bug, almost the same color as the hoodie on the “stabber,” just not quite as bright. From the driver’s seat I unlocked the other door for Richie. For the first time it hit me that I didn’t lock my house, but I locked my car. No explaining it.

We rode in silence to the police station, except for Richie’s occasional, “Watch out,” “There’s a car,” and “You’re going too fast.” Because of the situation I chose to ignore the backseat driving coming from the front seat.

We got lucky and I found a parking spot right in front of the station. The police station was on Fifth Street and connected to it, between Fifth and Sixth on Vermont, was the County Courthouse. We went in through the Fifth Street door and stopped at the reception desk. The reception area was utilitarian, with not much in the way of decoration. I asked if Officer Lansing was in.

The receptionist replied from behind a sliding glass window that he was in a meeting but should be done shortly. I left a message with my name attached, and Richie and I found a seat to wait for him.

As we sat, I looked at the floor while I was thinking. Soon I noticed two shined black shoes in front of me. My eyes slowly moved upward, and I saw the blue uniform belonging to my baby brother, Rob.

“What are you doing here?” Rob said it in a voice that showed he knew I was up to no good.

“Just here to see George,” I said. I wanted to call Rob “Mr. Smarty-Pants Baby Cop,” because…‌well, just because. But I didn’t because I didn’t want to embarrass him at work.

“It’s never that simple with you,” he said. “You say you’re just here to see George, but I bet it’s about something you shouldn’t be involved in.”

“It’s not my fault,” I sputtered.

“Yeah, right. It never is,” was how he answered. Another policeman I recognized as Jimmy Mansfield called to Rob to hurry up.

As they exited the station, Rob turned and said, “You used to come down and tell me things. Now that you and George are together, you come down and give him all your information. Maybe you’ll think of telling me stuff again sometime? Love you.” And with that he was gone.

Rob made me mad, but he had a valid point. When I was working on solving my boss’s murder, I told him everything. At that point, I was still mad at George for standing me up on prom night 25 years ago. That reminded me—our 25th reunion was coming up soon, I needed to remember to talk to George about that. I’d been on the planning committee and was really looking forward to the celebration.

As my thoughts flitted from topic to topic I had to remind myself to stay in the present.
Stay in the present, Sam
, I repeated in my thoughts.
This is some serious stuff you and Richie are dealing with
.

I’d almost forgotten about Richie, sitting at my side quietly, and holding onto his camera and pictures for dear life. I’d kept the one in question. I wanted to make sure we didn’t lose it on the way.

“Damn.” I checked my pockets and looked on the floor around me. “Richie, did I give the picture back to you?”

He shook his head. “You had it. Insisted you would take better care of it than I would.” His sneer told me what he thought of that.

“Damn,” I said again, as I saw George walk to the lobby. He wore khakis, a white shirt and a brown blazer with a tie I’d given him. He had a loving, expectant look on his face that quickly turned to puzzled when he saw me with Richie.

“Hi ya, Sam,” George approached me and gave me a peck on the cheek. “Hey, Richie. What’s up?” He looked back at me as he asked it.

“Well,” I said, scared to be confessing my screw up. “Well, Richie accidentally took a picture of a stabbing. We don’t know if the victim is dead or not, but it looked pretty serious. It happened between 5 and 10 AM. The light makes it look like it was around 6 to 8, wouldn’t you agree, Richie?”

He nodded. Richie had a smile on his face that showed his excitement.

George looked thoughtful and said, “We’ve not had any reports of a stabbing, at least not that that I’m aware of. Why don’t you two come in back with me?”

He took my arm solicitously and we went into the police station proper. A hive of cops and support personnel kept the place buzzing. George ushered us to his corner of the world, and we sat—him on one side of the desk and Richie and I on the other.

I still hadn’t confessed.

“Where’s the photo?” George asked with great interest.

“You see, I…‌I mean Richie…” At Richie’s growl I went back to, “Well, I…‌I…”

“Sam, spit it out,” George said, all business now.

“I think I lost it.”

“Lost it?” His face showed his disbelief. He wasn’t too upset. He hadn’t noticed yet that it was a Polaroid camera. “Well, it’s still on the camera, right?”

I looked at the camera. Richie looked at the camera. George looked at the camera.

“What in the hell are you doing using this kind of camera, Richie? Haven’t you ever heard of digital? And, Sam, why in the hell would you be so careless as to lose the only picture of the so-called crime?”

“So-called crime? You don’t believe us? Just because it’s going to be easier on you to pretend it didn’t happen, that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Richie and I both saw the picture. We have it in our brains. You might want to have someone interview us separately about what we saw.”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job!”

Now his voice was raised and his face was red. Because he was losing his hair, I could see the redness all over his head. I didn’t think I’d ever seen George this angry since we had started dating. He was usually sweet and very understanding of my sometimes ditzy ways.

More quietly George added, “We do have to take a statement though. It’s policy.

Ignoring his last comment, I stood. “C’mon, Richie,” I said, trying to sound dignified. “Let’s go solve this one ourselves.”

THREE

T
he thing that really made me mad was that George didn’t try to stop us. The only thing in his favor was that when I looked back at him, he wasn’t laughing. When Richie and I got outside the police station, my phone whistled, signifying an incoming text.

I stopped to read it. Richie stopped a few steps ahead. “It’s from George,” I whispered to myself, happy that he was going to apologize.

Instead, the text said, “I love you. See you tonight.”

See you tonight? After he practically called me a liar. Yeah, right. Then another whistle. “You’re right. There I said it. Please come back in so we can get a description of the picture you saw.”

What a guy. Not afraid to say he was wrong. It would be hard for me to do, but he didn’t have all the “quirks” I had. Maybe eventually some of his more positive characteristics would rub off on me.

I said to Richie, “George wants us to come back in and describe what we saw.” There was a look of satisfaction on my face that I wasn’t proud of. So I promised myself I wouldn’t gloat when I saw George.

As Richie and I walked back into the station, I literally ran into George rushing out.

Over his shoulder he said, “Sorry. Just got a call. Have to go. Officer Darling will talk to you.”

I couldn’t be mad at George, even though it would have been fun to be able to feel superior for a moment. And even though Rob was a “lowly” newbie, it was cool of George to have my brother be the one to interview us.

The receptionist buzzed us through and Rob met us on the other side of the door.

Right away, I said, “You just left. What happened?”

“Oh, Jimmy just wanted to talk to me about something. I came in by the back way.” He motioned for Richie to take a seat in the hall and he ushered me into an interrogation room. It was a stereotypical interview room. Not much different than the ones on TV—metal table and cinderblock walls. Ugly and cold.

“I thought I’d interview you first, because you’re older and more likely to forget what you saw.”

I was ready to punch his cute face, but then I noticed the grin. My baby brother was teasing me. And he sure knew how to get to me. “Okay, okay,” I said. “Let’s get this over with while I still remember.”

“Why don’t you just tell me what happened,” Rob said as he turned on a digital recorder. “Is it okay if I tape this?”

I nodded, and then realizing that it was an audio recording, said, “Yes,” too. Then I began.

“This morning I ran into Richie. He startled me by taking a flash photo of my face while I was walking, so I shoved his bike away. Naturally, he fell over, and he was upset at me. Then I…”

“Sam, I don’t need all the ‘before’ details. Tell me about the picture.”

I didn’t like it, but complied. “Well, if you don’t want the whole scenario…‌for context…‌Richie showed me a photo of a man collapsed against a building. Another man, in a bright blue hoodie, was stabbing him in cold blood, right at the time the picture was taken. It looked like a rather large knife being pushed inside the guy. I’d say it was near his heart, but not quite that high. Definitely on the left side though.” I paused a moment. “Oh, I forgot. Richie told me it was taken between 5 and 10 AM, or maybe 10:30 AM. I can’t remember.”

“Good, Sam. Good. Now close your eyes and see if there are any other details you can remember.” My little brother was good at this.

I did as he asked, and visualized what the instant photo looked like. “The light in the photo showed it couldn’t have been taken as early as 5. It was too light for that hour. So I guess I’d say 6 to 8. Sorry I can’t be more exact about that.” I scrunched up my face as I tried to see more.

“Relax a little more,” Rob suggested. “Don’t try to force it. Do you remember where the sunlight was coming from?”

I felt my shoulders and my face relax. “From the left maybe. And the building, the building had limestone blocks on the bottom. It was white above the foundation.” But many of Quincy’s buildings had limestone blocks in them. The city was built on limestone bluffs overlooking the Mississippi River, so that didn’t narrow things down too much.

“Good. Good. Was there anything else in the picture? Grass, streets, lights, vehicles?”

Deliberately relaxing my shoulders again, I went back to the picture in my mind. “I saw a green bush, a little grass, and some blacktop maybe. Not a sidewalk. Something looked familiar, but I’m not sure what.”

“Okay, Sam. Open your eyes.”

As I did, I looked at my baby brother in a new light. Not only was he a rookie cop, he was also someone who would make detective in the future. I was sure of it.

He then said, “You did a great job. When you sit out in the hall, relax and think about the picture. If you come up with anything else, let me know when I’m finished talking with Richie.”

I nodded, and got up to leave, but not before I said, “You did a great job, too.”

Richie and I exchanged places and I could imagine what he was saying to Rob. The one thing I hadn’t remembered to ask Richie was where he had ridden that morning. I’d have to ask later.

But the next time I saw him he was in no position to talk.

FOUR

W
hile I sat, waiting for Rob to finish talking to Richie, I realized it had been a long time between bathroom breaks. My phone rang as I looked down the long, green-tiled hallway and saw the universal sign for bathroom sticking out from the wall. I answered my phone, thinking that I still had a few minutes before Richie would be done.

The phone call was a computer reminder that I had a reunion committee meeting on Wednesday night. I quickly made sure the appointment was in the calendar of my smart phone as I walked briskly to the women’s bathroom. There were only two stalls inside and both were occupied, so I leaned against another green tiled wall and waited. Waited with my legs crossed. As I uncrossed and sat I felt the universal relief that only comes from this situation.

I hadn’t planned to be away that long, but as I washed my hands I thought that I wasn’t gone long enough for Richie to be done with the interview. When I tried to exit the ladies’ room, there were two women trying to get in. They wouldn’t budge, so I had to back up and step aside to let them enter. I did take an extra moment to give them dirty looks, but of course, it didn’t change anything.

BOOK: 3 Can You Picture This?
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