Arkansas Writer's Conference 2nd Place Winner

A RED STILLETO

The strobing red and blue lights of the police cruisers guided Detective Hamilton Tucker. He parked his car a ways back so that he might survey the scene upon approach. The activity was on the north side of the railroad tracks in a depressed and nearly deserted industrial area.

     “Hey, Tucker.” A heavy set police officer waved him over. “Have you lost weight?” They both laughed.

     Tucker patted his belly. “Don’t joke. I’ve been trying to stay in shape. And Blake, it wouldn’t hurt you to say no to a burger once in a while.”

     “Yeah. Yeah.” Blake chuckled and rubbed his round gut protruding over his belt. “I passed my fitness test.”

     Glancing ahead at the still figure covered with a white sheet, Tucker’s mood sobered. “Tell me what we’ve got.”

    

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     Blake snapped to business, pulling his notebook. “Witness, Jackson Nelson, works for the railroad.” He began. They walked alongside the train cars toward the body. “Says they were coupling cars; he was checking lines or something, when she landed right behind him. Scared the crap out of the guy.”

     “Landed?” Tucker cocked an eyebrow.

     “Looks like she fell from the top.” Blake motioned to the round tanker car up ahead.

     “And the victim?”  Tucker stooped under the yellow tape.

     Blake followed. “No ID. 20 something. Caucasian female. Blonde. Well dressed. She’s been dead a while. We’re still waiting on the M.E. for C.O.D.”

     Tucker lifted the sheet. The girl lay twisted at an unnatural angle. He squatted beside the body to get a closer look. The morning breeze lifted her blonde tresses around the stillness of her pale face.

     “Now tell me what you see, Tuck. I see those wheels turning.” Blake had his notebook at the ready.

     “You’re right about the 20 something. And the clothes are high-end. Abrasions on her face and scalp where she hit the rocks, but no blood. She was definitely dead when she landed. The question is how did a girl in high heels get atop a tanker car?” Tucker shifted his gaze from the tanker, up the tracks, and back to the girl. He peered at a single red stiletto. “Manolo Blahnik. Very expensive shoes. Let’s find the other one.”

    

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     Tucker motioned to a young, uniformed officer. “Where’s my witness?” The officer nodded in the direction of a man sitting on the metal steps of the abandoned warehouse. “Find that other shoe. Check both sides of the train.”

     The man on the steps had his head down. His arms hugged his sides. “Mr. Nelson?” Tucker’s voice seemed to startle him.

     “Yes, sir.” He mumbled.

     “Are you alright?” Tucker leaned down to make eye contact.

     Jackson Nelson glanced up into the detective’s clear blue eyes and relaxed a bit. He sat up, unwinding his body. “Yes, sir.” He spoke up.

     “Shall I call you Jack?” Tucker motioned to the embroidered name above the left pocket of the man’s work uniform.

     “Yes sir.” Jack repeated.

     “I’m Detective Hamilton Tucker. Everyone just calls me Tucker, for obvious reasons.” Jack smiled and relaxed a bit more. “Now Jack.” Tucker’s voice was low and soothing. “Tell me everything that happened, starting with…”

     “I heard this loud thud behind me.” Jack interrupted. “I jumped around and she was just layin’ there and I could tell that she was…” He began breathing heavily.

     Tucker put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Wait, Jack. Calm down. Take a few deep breaths.”

     Jack complied. “I’m sorry. I’ve just never seen a dead body before.”

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      “That’s okay.” Tucker’s calm voice quelled Jack’s fear. “Start earlier. Run down the hour before all that happened. Where were you?”

     “I was checking the strings. This here used to be a railyard with warehouses and such but now it’s just a coupling station. Strings of cars get dropped and picked up. We were coupling ours.” He glanced back at the two men in railroad uniforms standing with Blake.

     “Do you always check the strings?” Tucker drew Jack’s attention back to task.

     “Usually, yeah.” Jack continued.

     “And where did these particular cars come from?”

     “We had a short string on the branch line. We coupled those first. These here came from a long string back down this lead track. It stretched all the way under the bypass.”

     “And you didn’t try to move or touch the body?”

     “No, sir.”  Jack was adamant. “It was obvious that she was, you know, dead. I radioed Frank and he called you guys.

     “Did anyone touch or tamper with the car she fell from?” Tucker asked.

     “No, sir. We just kind of stood around trying not to look at her until the first cop got here.”

     Tucker handed Jack his card. “If you remember anything else, call me.”

     The young officer trotted toward Tucker with an evidence bag. “I found your shoe, Detective Tucker. Well, not your shoe.” He grinned.

     “Just Tucker is fine.” He took the bag containing a red stiletto.

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      “Butler, sir. I’m Officer Butler.”

     “Let me guess, Butler. You found the shoe under or near the bypass.”

     “Yes, sir. Uh, Tucker. It looks like someone dumped her body from the bypass on to the tanker car below. If they did it at night, they probably didn’t know there were cars parked on the tracks.”

     Tucker slapped Butler on the shoulder. “Good thinking. When the cars jostled around as they got hitched up and moved, our lady slid off the round tanker.”

     Butler looked thoughtful. Tucker noticed. “What is it, Butler?”

    Blake finished with the others and sauntered over.  “He’s got that same look on his face that you get when the wheels are turning in your head,” Blake commented. “Speak up, Officer.”

   Butler obliged.  “Well, I was just thinking. I come over the bypass quite a lot and you see trains parked under there all the time. What if they meant to land the body on a car? If it had been a flat top car, the young lady may not have fallen off at least until the train got up to speed. She could have been dumped miles from here.”

     Blake looked impressed. “That’s a good point. But, what if they were trying to leave her body on the tracks below to get run over by the train to hide C.O.D.?”

     “That’s where I come in.” The M.E. was a tall, shapely woman with hot pink hair and skin the color of smooth dark chocolate. She snapped several pictures of the body from different angles. “My preliminary findings agree with you. Your girl was dumped. The odd position of the body

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tells me that she was tossed soon after she died. Rigor set in during the hours she was up there.” M.E. Les Lively pointed to the tanker car.

     “C.O.D.?” Tucker asked.

     Les bent to lift an eyelid. “See that? Petechial hemorrhaging indicates that she was strangled or suffocated.  The absence of ligature marks says suffocated. I’ll know more when I get her on the table.” Two orderlies zipped up the body bag and loaded it into the van.

     Tucker waited while Les signed the paperwork and handed it off to the orderly. “I know what you’re going to say.” Les flashed him her thousand watt smile. “I’ve already taken her prints and sent them electronically. If your girl is in the system, we’ll know shortly.”

     Back at the station, Detective Tucker poured himself a cup of coffee. His cell rang. He answered, “Tucker.”

     “Hey, Tucker. It’s Les. We got an ID on your girl from the train.”

     “That was quick.”

     “Her prints were in the system. She worked at a daycare a few years ago. They ran criminal background checks and prints. Our girl’s name is Jessica Lincoln.”

     “Thanks, Les. I appreciate it.” Tucker poked at his computer. “Hey, while I’ve got you, anything else you can tell me about Jessica Lincoln?”

     “Not yet. I’ve got the lab rats running a blood panel and some fibers we found on her. I’ll let you know as soon as I get anything. Oh yeah. She had a lottery ticket tucked into her bra.”

                                                                                                                                                7

     Detective Tucker found the DMV photo of his murder victim. The smiling face of the perky blond in the picture was a far cry from the pale stiff from this morning. Scribbling down her address, he grabbed his cell. He called Blake from the car. “Blake, can you meet me at 206 Cherry Avenue, apartment C? I got an ID on our girl from this morning.”

     “Sure thing Tuck.” The officer obliged. “I’ll meet you there in ten.”

     Tucker parked behind Blake’s cruiser. “Shouldn’t you have a partner?” Blake chided the detective. Tucker growled and shot him a look. They headed up the sidewalk toward apartment C.

     From behind them, a young woman called out. “Can I help you?” Two young ladies in nail salon flip flops heel walked toward them.

     “Do you know the girl that lives here?” Blake asked.

     “I live here.” The tall brunette spoke up. “What’s this about?” She looked concerned. “Did something happen to Jess?”

     The other girl exclaimed. “I’ve been texting her all morning. I knew something was wrong. I even called her mother.”

     Tucker flashed his badge. “I’m Detective Tucker. This is Officer Blake. May we come in and speak with you; maybe take a look around?” His voice was low and soothing.

     “Come on in.” The girls waddled inside. “What happened? Is she okay?” They spoke simultaneously.

     “First let me get your names.” Blake snapped open his notebook. “Do you both live here?”

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     “I’m Amanda Franklin.” The first girl was short and stout with rainbow colored hair in a short bob. “I live a block over on Blossom Court. Jess was supposed to be at the nail salon this morning for pedicures. She loves pedicures. But Lydia said she didn’t come home last night. Isn’t that right Lydia? I texted her, like a million times and even called her mother, but she hasn’t seen her since last week. Is she missing? Has something happened?”

     Blake looked at Tucker. Tucker nodded his consent. Blake patted the girl’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this but we found Jessica’s body this morning.” Tears and wailing ensued.

     Tucker motioned to Blake. “You get their statements. I’ll have a look around.” Tucker noted the apartment was furnished with mismatched older furniture. Jessica’s bedroom was something of a surprise. It was sparse. There were inexpensive art prints on the walls, a futon mattress on the floor, and a small dresser. He checked the closet. There were designer labels on more than half the items there. He continued through the apartment while Blake calmed the girls and took their information.

     Upon leaving, Tucker took notice of the old car parked out front. “That belong to one of them?” He nudged Blake.

     “That’s Lydia’s ’99 Mazda. You got something? You have that look in your eye again.”

     Tucker looked thoughtful. “Maybe. We’ll see.” He headed for his car. “Oh, Blake. I owe you one for taking their statements.”

   

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      “Yep. Drinks are on you this week.” Blake handed Tucker a piece of paper. “Here’s their info. I figured you may have some follow up questions. See you back at the station.” He waved and got into his cruiser.

     Back at the station, Blake found Detective Tucker at his desk. “What do we have, Boss?”

     Tucker eyed him. “I’m fairly certain I know what happened. We need to get those girls in here for questioning. A confession always makes things easier. Bring the young ladies. You can put them in the interrogation room together.”

     “You think one of those girls…never mind. I know better than to argue with your gut.” He sprinted for the door.

     The grizzled detective sat across from Lydia and Amanda. “Is there anything you ladies need to tell me that perhaps you neglected to tell Officer Blake?” Lydia shook her head.

     “I wish I knew something else to tell you.” Amanda began to tear up again. “Jess is my…was my best friend.”

     “Can you tell me about this?” He plopped down an evidence bag containing a lottery ticket. “It seems Jessica had a winning lottery ticket on her.”

     Lydia perked up. She looked hard at the ticket. “You found it? I knew that it was a winner.” She reached for the bag.

     Tucker moved the bag from her reach. “That’s evidence.”

    

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     “That’s funny,” Amanda commented. “Jess never spent money on anything frivolous. Lydia is obsessed with the lottery.” She elbowed her friend. “You always think you’re going to hit the jackpot.”

     “I bought the ticket,” Lydia spoke up. “I should get it back, right?” She licked her lips.

     Detective Tucker’s steel blue eyes drilled into Lydia’s nervous gaze. “I know what happened. You can tell me your side and it will go easier for you.”

     Amanda looked puzzled. “What? What is he talking about?” She stood. “What’s going on?”

     “Amanda, why don’t you go with Officer Blake. Lydia and I need to have a conversation.” Tucker’s manner commanded the rainbow-haired girl. She left the room in a daze. Tucker focused all his attention on Lydia. “I know you killed your roommate over the lottery ticket.”

     Lydia broke. She cried angry tears. “Those winnings will get me out of debt. I can pay off my student loans and quit working at the coffee shop.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “She’d just spend it all on clothes. Always with the designer clothes. She sold her car to buy those stupid Manolos!” She fumed. “She’d rather ride the bus, she said. But what she really meant was that I could take her wherever she needed to go. She said she had to dress for success. She was a barista with an art history degree!” Lydia was shouting. “So yeah. I couldn’t take it. She said she didn’t know where the ticket was, but I knew she had it. I was putting a bag in the kitchen can because her majesty couldn’t be bothered to take out the trash. It was so easy.” Lydia laughed scornfully. “I threw the bag over her head and held on until she stopped twitching.”  Lydia breathed a sigh of relief.

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      Tucker pushed a legal pad and pen in front of her. “Write it all down, including how you moved the body, and sign it.”

     Lydia looked up at him with haunted eyes. “After dark, I carried her to my trunk. It was surprisingly easy. She didn’t weigh that much. I dumped her over the bypass. I imagined she’d be carried out of town.”

     “Write it down.” Tucker tapped the pad.

     “What about my lottery ticket? You said it was a winner. Am I going to get that back?”

     “No. As I said. It’s evidence.” Tucker shook his head. “It was a winner. You had three numbers. You killed your friend for $200.”