Over Her Dead Body (19 page)

Chapter 30

Detective James stared perturbed. He was tired, agitated, and wanted to go home. And this lady was wasting his time. She had been laughing hysterically for over five minutes now. The detective looked at the clock, picked up his coffee and felt that it was empty. He looked back at April who was laughing so hard tears had begun to roll down her cheeks. She began slapping the table like she had just heard the funniest joke in her life.

Detective James pocketed his pen, grabbed his empty cup and got up and walked out of the room. He went around the corner and into the waiting area. The flat screen television that hung from the ceiling was playing an old episode of Seinfeld. George Castanza was pretending to be a Marine Biologist to impress a girl. They were on a date at the beach when they came upon a beached whale. Someone hollers into the crowd “Is anyone here a Marine Biologist?” Detective James chuckled. He didn’t get to watch television all that much. Even with a low crime rate, his workload was always knee deep and months overdue. The rare times he did get to take a break, he often found himself in front of a good episode of Seinfeld.

The detective grabbed the pot of coffee. A new batch had been brewed.
Probably Doc
. He thought. Doc would have known it was going to be a late night and it’s just the generous kind of thing he would remember to do. The detective sat down for a moment on the couch and sipped at his coffee. George was explaining to Seinfeld about his botched date. He held up a golf ball that had been found plugging the whale’s air hole. Cramer looked around trying not to give away his guilt of having previously been hitting golf balls out into the ocean. The detective took a sip and let out a long sigh. Sometimes when things were getting complicated or fuzzy, the best thing he could do was separate himself from the confusion and clear his head. Let it all drift away. He pulled out his cell phone and checked it for messages. A text had come in that they had run out of light and had called off the search. Everyone was being sent home to rest and regroup for the long day tomorrow of dragging the river for a corpse. The detective stood up shaking his head. He took another sip of coffee and headed back into the interrogation room.

April had calmed down and was sitting quietly with her chin on her clasped hands. She had tissues bunched in-between them. She had a smirk on her face and shook her head as the detective entered.

Detective James sat down and set his coffee out in front of him. He noted that his notes and photographs had remained unscathed. It was another interrogators trick. Leave behind evidence that can easily be replaced such as a photograph. In the event a suspect loses control and destroys it by crinkling it up or shredding it, it gives the interrogator a charge to hold them on. Tampering with evidence. Never leave behind a writing instrument as the suspects were able to use them as a weapon. He had read about cases in the past where a detective or two had made that mistake and it had cost them their life. An ink pen to the throat wasn’t any less dangerous than a knife. “Are you done?” He asked April. April looked up at him and nodded. Then shook her head in disgust despite the smile that remained on her face. “What is it you think is so funny? Why are you shaking your head?” The detective asked.

April looked toward the wall and back at the detective. “I’m laughing because you guys are idiots. And I’m laughing at myself for having believed your ridiculous story about Michael having a kid.”

“Mrs. Bander, I don’t know if you are familiar with how a DNA test works, but it doesn’t lie. That girl in the photo is your child…and Michael’s.” The detective said calmly.

Mrs. Bander’s expression melted back into a smile. For a moment the detective thought she may break out in laughter again. “See this is what’s so funny
D
etective. I had convinced myself that you were a nice guy…and a smart guy…that you might actually be able to help us…” April looked away for a moment and tried to hold back bursting into tears. She looked back at the detective. “But here I am, a physical and emotional mess; exhausted beyond belief. And you have had me woken up and dr
agged
down here to your little interrogation room to feed me a bunch of crap!” April was jabbing her finger downward at the table. “And now I find out that everything you’ve been telling me all along is a lie?” She looked away and then back at the detective who looked a little shocked. He had thought her laughing was going to be an admission to guilt and being found out. “And I…” Tears began to rage down her cheeks and voice began to get crackly “I…” She sniffled and was trying hard to hold her composure. She began jabbing at the table again. “I betrayed the man I love because I believed your lies. And now he might be dead, and it’s all my fault…” April buried her head into her arms and bawled. The detective looked at the clock. He was nowhere near getting an admission of guilt. Even worse, the girl looked as if she really believed what she was saying. The detective looked at the clock again, sighed, and leaned back in his chair and sipped on his coffee. He wasn’t sure how he was going to proceed from here.

Chapter 31

Michael sat up on the bike and got back in control of his thoughts and emotions. He needed to talk to her. He just didn’t know how. He couldn’t do it now. Not sitting on a bike in the middle of the sidewalk, still wet, and very hungry.

Michael took off on the bike pedaling fast for the store. He had to pull off into three different yards on the way there to avoid being seen by passing cars. He coasted along the edge of the parking lot and parked the bike on the side of the building.

The ride over had dried most of the clothes he was wearing. He was only slightly damp now. Unless his face was all over the news, he should remain fairly inconspicuous. He wasn’t taking any chances. He kept his head down all the way into the store and disappeared into the clothing section. He knew what sizes he needed. He found two pairs of jeans on sale, a white polo shirt, and a large t-shirt with a design of a tiger on the front.

Michael found an empty cart nearby and swiped it. He put in the clothes and added a pack of boxer briefs, socks, and shoes. He did all this in less than three minutes. It was the fastest clothes shopping he had ever done. It kind of felt good. He thought. He’d always hated shopping for clothes.

Mich
ael quickly made his way over t
o the deodorant section. He threw in a speed stick gel, a toothbrush and toothpaste, medical tape, bandages, rubbing alcohol,
triple antibiotic cream,
a razor
,
and shaving cream. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with anybody if he
looked
like a crook. He figured he’d been in here five minutes. He hadn’t yet run into anyone, but he didn’t want to linger. He looked down at his cart. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t have a car to load all this stuff in. He quickly made his way over near the purses and luggage and found a whole
a
isle of backpacks. He chose the cheapest and largest black
back
pack he could find and threw it in the cart. Seven minutes.

Michael swung by the jewelry section and found the sunglasses rack. The more he could disguise himself tomorrow, the better. He tried on four pairs and looked in the mirror before finding a pair he could live with. Nine minutes. He darted toward the electronics. On his way there he passed the stationary
a
isle and added a notebook and two black pens. He passed a couple of shoppers on the way to the electronics but tried to look as inconspicuous as he could. In a small town like this it is highly likely to run into someone who knows you at the local Walmart. Nobody stopped him. Nobody hollered out his name. Twelve minutes. He kept on moving.

Now to the prepaid cell phones. One or two? Michael’s funds were limited. He wasn’t sure how long he would be on the run for, but he needed to make the money last. He was only going to be able to make one or two calls on a cell phone and then he would have to pitch it or they would use it to track him. He decided one phone was all he needed for now. He threw the cheapest one into the cart and moved on to the food section. Fifteen minutes.

Michael passed some more shoppers. He was beginning to panic. Somebody is going to notice. Somebody will know…He made it to the food
a
isle. He made his way to the plastic cup section and picked out a small box of assorted silverware. Then after visiting the soap
a
isle and grabbing a bar of ivory, he trucked on over to the bread
a
isle and snagged two loa
ve
s of bread. Another
a
isle over, he found a jar of peanut butter. Eighteen minutes. He was now risking too much time. He had to get out. Michael pushed his cart quickly toward the front of the store. He passed back through the men’s clothing section and stopped suddenly. He backed up a couple of steps. A hat section. Michael spotted a Yankees hat that matched the clothes he had bought and threw it in the cart. He sped on up to the self checkout. There were four of them available and they were all vacant. There was a girl with a spray bottle cleaning the equipment. She looked up as he approached and nodded. Michael didn’t recognize her and she didn’t give him a second look. Michael hit the start button and began feeding his things through the scanner and into the bags. Michael was just about done when the scanner wouldn’t pick up the tag on the backpack. He scanned and scanned. Shit. The girl was beginning to notice that he was having trouble and was about to come over when the machine finally beeped and rang it through. Michael shoved it in the bag and scanned the last two items. The machine gave a total of eighty three dollars and sixty four cents. Michael dug into his pocket for the cash he had taken from the police officers when suddenly it occurred to him that he hadn’t gotten anything to drink. He looked to the left and spotted a cooler at the front of the registers. He darted over to it and took out four bottles of water and a Mountain Dew. He didn’t want warm soda for later, but a cold Mountain Dew would hit the spot and give him enough juice to make it back home. Home. Michael shook his head at the thought. What a joke. There was no home. Michael shut the cooler door and snagged a few snickers bars on the way back to the self checkout. He fed all the items through and dipped back into his pocket for the cash. He needed Ninety-two dollars and twenty-six cents. He had folded the money up nicely but when he pulled it out it was damp. He looked at the machine. Shit again. He took a twenty and tried to feed it into the machine but it wouldn’t even get started in. It just kept scrunching up. Michael turned to look for the girl but she was right there by the time he had turned around.

“Are you having trouble getting it to go in?” The girl asked. She had red hair and chubby cheeks. She seemed nice.

“Uh..ya. I guess I sweat too much. Money’s all damp.” Michael handed the girl five wet twenties.

She took the twenties and tried to feed them through with no success. Finally she went behind her little counter and flipped a switch that made her light flash. Michael kept his bloodstained leg strategically pointed away from her so she wouldn’t see the hole or the red stain that threatened to give him away. Another employee was walking quickly toward them. She was older than the one helping him and wore glasses. She looked like a manager. The lady approached the girl and Michael. Her name tag said Kathy on it. She didn’t look like the cheerful type. Michael tried to look away but was afraid he would look more suspicious looking the other direction. He looked back toward the two cashiers.

“What’s up Cynthia?” Kathy said to the younger clerk.

“The machine won’t take the money. It’s a little damp. Can you trade them out for other twenties?” The girl asked.

The manager took the cash. She glanced up at Michael to give him a dirty look for having to go all the way back to the front register when she paused and her expression gave way to recognition. Shit a third time. Michael’s heart about stopped there in his chest. The Manager’s face about went pale and then she nodded and her countenance was suddenly polite. “I’ll be right back with some fresh twenties.” She smiled at Michael and then rushed off, looking back once over her shoulder.

Michael hadn’t recognized her but she had recognized him. Quadruple shit. That meant he was all over the news. Not good news for him. He grabbed his bags and looked at the cashier. “You know, I don’t really need the change. You can just keep it.” Michael said as he strode past her.

“Oh sir, we can’t accept tips. She’ll only be a moment.” The girl said.

Michael waved her off. “It’s ok. Just stick it in a donation jar or something.” And he headed out the doors. Michael figured he had about forty-five seconds before the manager completed her call and about five minutes before the police arrived. Unless they were already in the area in which case he was screwed.

Michael quickly took out the book bag and unzipped it. He pushed in two of the three bags of stuff he had just bought but the bread wouldn’t fit. He quickly tied the bag the bread was in to a loop on the back of the backpack. Michael zipped it up and threw it on over his shoulders. He grabbed the bike and blasted off into the parking lot. It was going to take him about eight or nine minutes to get to the house he had stayed at the previous night.

Michael got to the end of the parking lot and was just about to cross the highway when flashing lights were moving his direction fast. Two cars turned into the parking lot and drove right past him no more than ten feet away and continued on to the front of the store. Michael looked back shaking his head. He bolted full force across the road. He had just been given an extra minute. Two tops. It still wasn’t enough time. It will have registered with the cops when the manager tells them that he had left that it may have been him that they passed coming in. They’ll know he’s on a bike and wearing a backpack.

Michael stuck to the streets for the next minute and a half. It’s strange how a minute and a half can seem like an hour when you are on the run. Going back seemed much easier than the trip there. The ground was slightly elevated and it sloped downward now so Michael made great time. He looked back over his shoulder and saw headlights about four or five blocks behind him. They were going slow and they had a search light. Damn that was fast. He thought.

Michael took a side street and cut down an alley in-between streets. He considered ditching the bike but decided against it. He was only about half a mile away now. Just another quarter mile, then ditch the bike. Michael was afraid if they found the bike, it may give them a reason to start snooping around. He didn’t want that right where he was going to be sleeping. He needed a peaceful, stress free night of rest so he could start off the next morning with a clear head. Tomorrow, he was going to solve the case. One way or another. He was determined. And when Michael Bander was determined, he accomplishes things.

Another minute passed and Michael skidded to a stop near a dumpster and parked the bike alongside somebody’s garage where they had a couple of lawnmowers, bikes, and other outdoor gadgets stored. It was a small ho
a
rding pile and the bike fit in naturally. Michael parked it and looked back over his shoulder. No lights, no sounds. He doubted that they had given up, but they didn’t know where he was headed and there were too many streets and not enough officers.

Michael walked the last half mile in peace and quiet, alone with his thoughts. He needed to confirm his suspicions. He would try and contact April tomorrow. He loved her. That much he knew. But could he forgive her if she had lied to him? What if she had committed murder? Even worse, what if she had committed murder against
their
child that he hadn’t even known about? Was keeping a child a secret enough of a reason? Michael shook his head. He didn’t even want to think about it. This just didn’t make sense. This wasn’t the April he knew. This wasn’t the woman he fell in love with. No. He was pretty good at knowing good people from the bad. One thing being a teacher had taught him was looking into those eyes and into the soul and knowing where the trouble was going to come from before it even began.

Troubled souls needed the most help and the most attention. Michael had made great influences on many kids that may have otherwise chosen a different path. They knew it too. Many of them wrote him regularly to tell him how much he had helped them. So, Michael just knew there must be another logical explanation. Tomorrow. He thought. He must get to the bottom of this tomorrow. Or risk being on the run forever. Michael walked around the corner of the garage he’d stayed in the night before. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t pay any attention to the light coming from within. Michael turned the doorknob and walked right in to an occupied garage.