Authors: Chris Frank,Skip Press
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #mystery, #Hard-Boiled
12 Days (2 page)
“That’s right.”
“Then what did you do?”
“My first thought was to try and get him down, but I couldn’t even reach his feet, and I didn’t have my cell with me, so I ran here.” She pointed to the house. “And that’s when I crank called you.”
“So you knocked on the door and called the police from this house?”
Lisa nodded.
“Why didn’t you use your cell phone?” Jim asked, nodding at the phone in her hand.
“This isn’t mine; I borrowed it from that guy over there.” She pointed to a coroner’s assistant who shyly waved to Lisa.
“Have you ever seen the victim before?”
Lisa tried to hide a smile.
“I don’t want to sound flippant here, Officer, but it’s Santa.”
Jim blushed.
“Right.”
After a brief look at his notes, he continued.
“We’re going to need you to come down to the station and make a formal statement.”
“No problem. But Officer, can I wait here a little while? I’m still in a state of shock.”
Lisa did not like lying to the police, but she had to be there when Milt arrived with the camera.
Come on, Milt, God damn it. I know where you slept last night; it’s not that far away.
Jim nodded.
“Sure, ma’am, I understand. Just sit here and I’ll be back in a little bit.”
Jim turned to walk away then stopped.
“One last question. Who were you calling?” asked Jim.
“I’m sorry?”
“Just now, on the cell phone.”
“My boss. I was calling work to speak to my boss.”
“On Christmas morning? What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a producer at KVTM News.”
The sound of screeching tires caused them both to turn their heads. Milt Adams, a tall, thin, red-haired cameraman bolted from the KVTM News van and headed toward the back for his gear.
“Shit.” Jim ran towards the van. “Hey!” he yelled, “Get back!”
But Milt was too quick. He already had the camera out and was pointing it toward the hanging dead man. He was able to get about 10 seconds of footage before Officer Jovian blocked his view.
“Hey dude!” cried the cameraman, “Get out of the way.”
“Put the camera away,” Jim demanded. “Did you manage to miss the fact I’m wearing a badge?”
“You can’t stop me,” Milt replied, “I know my rights.”
Jim got right in the cameraman’s face.
“Hey smartass, what are you going to do? Show all the children of Los Angeles your video of Santa Claus hanging from a tree on Christmas day? You are not going to do that to the kids. You’ll put them all in therapy.”
“Are you a cop, or a psychologist?”
Milt looked to Lisa. His co-worker was a step away.
“Lisa, tell Dr. Phil over here that I have the right to do this.” He got back in Jim’s face. “This is news, man.”
Lisa Klein stood directly behind Officer Jovian.
“Milt, shut the camera off.”
Milt gave her a look of protest.
“Milt,” Lisa said firmly.
Milt reluctantly hit the off button.
Lisa began apologizing.
“Officer Jovian, I’m sorry. You’re right; broadcasting a video of this poor man could have detrimental effects on all of us.”
“Damn right it could,” Jim snarled.
Lisa continued.
“But what’s done is done. Maybe we can make a deal.”
“I don’t make deals, especially with the media.”
Jim was lying; this was the first time he had ever been in a position to make a deal with the media.
“Just hear me out. I promise that KVTM News will not show the footage that Milt has legally obtained, if…”
“If…”
Lisa finished her sentence.
“If you promise to keep me in the loop on all developments in the case.”
Jim shook his head.
“I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can. We do know the rules, you know.”
Jim considered the proposal.
“Ms. Klein, I’m not convinced that either you or I are in a position to make deals.”
“I disagree. We have a heinous crime on Christmas morning in a normally quiet neighborhood in lovely southern California and I personally found the body. I have a tape that will cause distress to a lot of people and probably make me a bunch of money. I’m willing to walk away from all that in exchange for a little information. I don’t think your superiors will be too pleased with you for allowing that tape to happen, let alone come to light. Come on officer, work with me. Where’s your holiday spirit?”
Lisa smiled coyly. Jim peered at the producer and tried to muster venom in his eyes, but he failed miserably. Lisa Klein was attractive and Jim was losing his edge. He felt the urge to arrest her and then take her out for a drink.
“Excuse my French, Ms. Klein, but you are being a real asshole.”
The cameraman chimed in.
“That’s not French. French would be
abruti
.”
“Shut the fuck up, Milt,” Lisa scolded.
Jim hesitated before he spoke.
“Bury the tape; I’ll give you as much as I can. Now get the camera out of here until we get that body down.”
Lisa smiled.
“Okay, Milt. We’ll set up over there by the tree.”
Milt grumbled as he walked slowly towards the tree, the camera at his side. It was obvious he did not like Officer Jovian. He leaned against the sycamore and watched as the coroner’s assistant on a painter’s ladder struggled with the rope that held the dead Kris Kringle. When the knot was loosened, two large policemen stood below to catch the body. Santa was laid on a gurney, face up with eyes bulging hideously. Milt signaled to Officer Jovian who appeared to be having a quiet conversation with Lisa.
“We good, Officer?” asked Milt
Officer Jovian waved, “Go ahead.”
Lisa left Jim and approached Milt. They stood over the body. Lisa turned to her cameraman.
“We need footage of the body, the tree, the neighborhood, anything interesting you can get. I tried to get the good Officer Jovian to consent to an interview but he politely declined.”
She waved at Jim who was standing a good twenty feet away. He did not wave or smile, just turned away and walked towards his car.
“I like that guy. He’s a bit of a hardass, but I think he will be very useful to us.”
The sound of tires screeching to a halt drew everyone’s attention. Two rival news crews had arrived, reporters and cameramen scrambling. The party was about to begin, and Officer Jim Jovian had his hands full.
Chapter Two: Catching Turtles
Day One: 11:30 a.m.
Janette McDermott was enjoying a beautiful Christmas day with her family. Her four children, all below the age of nine, had torn through the myriad presents that had overpowered the living room for the past two weeks and were busy assembling, playing, and breaking any gift no longer in it’s wrapping. Janette and her husband Bill had been very fortunate. Although they both came from a bit of money, their company McDermott Realty had ridden the southern California real estate wave as far as it could go and had reaped enormous financial gains that included their home, a seven thousand foot, half acre mansion in Pasadena overlooking the Rose Bowl. The McDermotts had become very influential in local Republican politics and each had been recognized for philanthropic work; Bill for saving the environment and Janette, the Pacific tortoise. She had recently spearheaded a fundraiser that brought in $465,000 for the Los Angeles Zoo, drawing praise from many influential donors for her organizational skills and passion.
As she sat on the living room couch and looked at her family, she reflected on her tree, her family, and her life, which made her smile. All of her dreams were coming true and the future seemed to have no limits. Satisfied with her visions of bliss, it was time to gather the troops. Dreams didn’t come true for those who sat around; the future waited for no one.
“Let’s go guys; we leave for church in a half an hour.”
Janette ignored the groans that arose from the four corners of her house, including a complaint from Bill. The color in her face rose from soft white to hot pink. Her lips tightened as she went from loving mother of four to Christian drill sergeant. She cleared her throat.
“It is Christmas Day and we are going to church!”
The troops knew better than to incur the wrath of Mom, particularly on Christmas Day.
Day One: 12:00 p.m.
Officer Roy Winston had the day shift on Christmas. A twelve-year veteran of the West Covina Police Department, he had grown weary of the job and looked forward to pursuing his real dream of becoming a chef and opening his own restaurant. It would be Pan-Asian California fusion style, with lots of little paper lanterns and short-skirted waitresses. Intimate, but big enough to pack them in for movie premieres. Roy was daydreaming when he spotted Jim Jovian across the squad room, typing slowly and occasionally rubbing his eyes.
“Burning it at both ends?” Roy asked.
“If I start drooling on the keys, smack me, will ya,” Jovian yawned his response.
“Pretty fucked up, hanging Santa. What kind of sick bastard would do that? Any leads?”
“Yeah, the two Jacks.”
Roy thought on this.
“Two Jacks?”
“Yeah, Jack Mehoff and Jack Shit.”
Roy had a genuine belly laugh every time he heard Jack Mehoff, which this time turned into a coughing fit. He caught his breath when the phone in front of him rang. He grabbed it.
“West Covina police, this is Officer Winston.”
Roy’s eyes went to Jim.
“Officer Jovian is busy right now, can I be of service? Hold on.”
Roy put the caller on hold and called to Jim.
“Hey man, some chick named Klein on the phone. You here?”
“Christ, here we go.”
Jim stopped typing and picked up the phone.
“Jovian.”
“Officer Jovian, Lisa Klein. We met this morning.”
“Ah yes, the witness/extortionist. Stumble across another dead body?”
“Actually that’s what I was calling about. Did you identify the body yet?”
“Not yet, we’re still running the prints.”
“You’ll let me know when you find something, won’t you?”
“You are my first call,” Jim replied sarcastically.
“I look forward to hearing from you. Ciao.”
“Ciao.”
Jim hung up the phone, dumbstruck. He had never used the word “Ciao” before.
Day One: 1:00 p.m.
The High Definition image of the hanging Santa glowed from the video monitor in the darkened KVTM News edit bay. Milt Adams was hard at work, sifting through his early morning shots. The hanging Santa mesmerized him; it was really creepy. He couldn’t understand why Lisa agreed not to show it. What information could that cop give her that would trump these clips? Milt didn’t get it. He continued to stare at the dead man and found his finger gravitating towards the record button. It hovered for a second and then, in an instant, Milt had made himself a copy of everything. No harm, just something for his portfolio. He wasn’t planning on staying at KVTM forever anyway, and the tape was like… well, money in the bank.
Day One: 1:10 p.m.
This was the most alive he had felt in his entire life. He was becoming something greater than himself. He stood before the mirror and straightened his tie. He hated anything around his neck, but today he had a part to play and the tie was needed to complete his costume. He practiced his lines aloud.
“Buon giorno, come sta?”
He was pleased with the inflection of his voice. He would wear the shoe with the biggest lift today to minimize the limp, and accessorize his appearance with the hand-carved ivory cane that his father gave him for his eighteenth birthday so many years ago. The tie was bothering him. In a flash, it was undone. He couldn’t have that thing around his neck. Then he smiled.
I wonder
, he thought,
if the queer from last night felt the same way. No, that was different. That was the end of that stupid man’s story, but for me, this is just the beginning.