Page 8

8

MICHAEL

I get up early and decide to drive by the crime scene on my way to do a little shopping at the mall. There’s this concert coming up, and I bought two tickets months ago, figuring I’d have found a date to go with me by then. So far, no such luck, but I’ll be damned if I don’t go.

I swing into the Who’s Your Caddy parking lot and see a few people milling around outside. After parking, I get out of my car and walk up to a group of employees having a smoke break. They’re all dressed in uniforms—blue and white shorts and shirts. To me, they look like they belong on a ship or in one of those crazy religious cults that pop up now and then in California.

“Excuse me,” I say as I approach. “My name is Detective Borne. I’m investigating the murder that took place here yesterday. I’m hoping to interview a few people while I’m here.”

“I remember you from yesterday, Detective,” a slender young man with red hair says as he steps closer to me. He looks as if he’d go in for a kiss if he thought he could get away with it. For the record, I wouldn’t be averse to it; he is downright cute as all get out.

“Ah, yes,” I say. “Mr. Hudson… was it?”

“You remember me?” His blush matches his hair. “Should I be worried?” He holds out his hands like I’m going to cuff him. “If you arrest me, just don’t make them too tight, okay?”

I smile and look around for someone I haven’t had a chance to speak with. That’s when I notice a dark-haired young man walking toward the entrance to the club. He’s far enough away where he’ll make it to the doors before I can catch up, even if I were to run the whole way. Without seeing his face, it’s impossible to make an identification, but something about him seems familiar. Was he the same man who was eavesdropping on my conversation with Devon yesterday at Seas the Day?

“Does anyone know who that is?” I ask, pointing to his quickly disappearing form.

Everyone turns and looks in the direction I’m pointing, but he’s already made it inside the building. Blank stares return my question.

“Can everyone look around themselves and see who is missing? I wanted to chat with the gentleman who just left.”

Again, the group looks around each other, but no one seems to recall anyone else having been there. Strange.

“Sorry, officer,” Kaleb Hudson says. “If you need anything else, you know where to find me.” He snickers and waves as he walks away.

Disappointed, I take a few minutes to walk around the grounds. The gardeners are hard at work, mowing lawns, trimming bushes, planting flowers along the walkways. It really is a beautiful establishment. Maybe I’ll join here one day. Once I’m a bit older and learn to golf, anyway.

I look at my watch and back at the water trap where the bodies were found. If I don’t leave for the mall soon, I won’t make it on time to actually shop for something nice to wear. “Just a couple minutes,” I say to myself as I hurry over to the water’s edge.

Squatting down, I look at my reflection in the water. The image ripples with movement, and the sound of trickling catches my attention. I run my hand along the muddy bank, and my fingers glide over something hard, plastic, and grated. Pulling a little sod up as I struggle to get a better look, I’m surprised to see there’s a drain.

That’s when a fountain in the middle of the pond shoots up water at least twenty feet in a spectacular display. Around the base of the fountain, there are lights that shine up the column. At night, it would have been a sight to see, but during the day, it lacks any real luster. Turning my attention back to the grate and drain, I peer into the debris trap.

Could there be evidence in there? I don’t recall seeing this yesterday. Could the crime scene team have also overlooked it?

I pull on a latex glove and yank the grate lid free. Plunging my hand into the murky water, I feel around for something other than twigs, stones, or grass clippings. My fingers brush against something, and I manage to pull the object out without much effort.

After wiping the mud off, I hold the gold chain up to the sky. There’s a small locket attached, and I have to pull off my glove to open it with the tip of my thumbnail. Inside, a picture of a young boy on one side and what appears to be the father on the other. If these two were not blood-related, based on their eyes alone, I would happily give up my career as a detective.

But who they are, I have no idea, nor is there any proof this necklace has anything to do with the crime that was committed here yesterday. One thing’s for sure; I’ll bag up the evidence and bring it to the station later tonight for the forensic team to do their magic.

I check my watch again. Damn, it’s time to head out. I hurry to the car and slide behind the wheel. After peeling out of the parking lot, I rush straight to the mall. There’s no telling if I can find something flattering to wear to the concert that doesn’t make me look like a dad who’s given up on himself.

I chuckle as I imagine all the things I could wear that would destroy any chance at finding a date. Stay away from all white tennis shoes, fanny packs, and super loose-fitting button-up shirts I’d have to tuck in, for starters. I’m technically in the second half of my thirties, but I don’t feel like I’ve reached daddy status, not yet. Although, I’ve been told once my hair goes white, I’ll be a silver fox. Again, I chuckle. I stop at the entrance to the mall, and my reflection stops me short; my beard is almost entirely white at the chin. Thankfully, the rest of it is dark, but when the hell did my chin go white?

Do I really not pay that much attention to myself? Damn. I’ve got to fix that. I’m a decent-looking guy; if I don’t love myself, no one else will. I smile at my reflection and pull the door open.

“You look hot, man,” I whisper to myself. “You’re always getting hit on by younger dudes.” How many people can say that? I feel myself stand a little taller and strut a little more when I walk. As I enter the first department store on my left, a really nice-looking gentleman bumps into me.

“Sorry,” we both say at the same time.

I smile.

He gives me the come-fuck-me eyes. We continue past each other, but it’s exactly what I need; to feel wanted.