arrival

A murder at the Park Side, Dixon thought as he climbed to his feet. He looked back at the glowing screen of his computer. Should I leave it?

Yes. He bent over and clicked the save button with the mouse. He was already mentally on his way out as he grabbed his coat and ball-cap. He turned back to the computer as his screen saver kicked in; a police car ran up and down the screen. He sighed; the case he had been working on would have to wait until tomorrow. Paul Murray and his stalker case could wait. The murder at the Park Side, his favorite places in Ralston, now that was just too inviting to miss.

Rain and snowfall was all the weather that came to Ralston in the winter. When it was not raining, it was snowing. Dixon pulled his coat tighter around him and locked the door to his house. Darby would always say things like-“If it rains in Ralston, it snows.”

This always struck Dixon as odd, although tonight Ralston had proved Darby’s philosophy true. The sheets of rain had given way to a blizzard of snow. Dixon dodged the freezing puddles as he traversed the dark street to get to his car. The cold bit down on him and he was numbed as he fumbled with his keys. Finding them, he stuck his lighter to the key-lock with hopes that it was not frozen in the snow. It was covered with a thin sheet of ice.

            Dixon sighed in frustration, stepped back and kicked the locked door with a thump. He nearly slipped. Stumbling back to his car door he slid his key in a rattled it back and forth until it gave. Forcing the frozen door open he slid into the cold confines of his car. The engine started with the first turn and as the car warmed up, Dixon hunched of the heater. The temperature slowly rose.

            Dixon had bought the Buick after his finally got paid on his most recent case. He had owned a truck before that but it had been too much trouble to park in the city. He loved that truck, smashing it into cars and generally terrorizing his attackers. He had owned the truck along time, since he was at the academy. He smiled as he shifted the Buick into drive and with a last look across the street; he drove east towards the Park Side.

            The Buick, which was dark blue, had been a good choice as it blended into traffic as another unremarkable four-door sedan. The perfect surveillance car, Dixon had found it useful to follow Paul Murray and his many enemies around the area. He had taken to parking the car across the street, so no one would ascribe that the car belonged to him. This reasoning was two fold; first, Dixon hoped it would keep it safer from would be vandals (the truck had suffered that fate on an earlier case) and it would keep Henry Love out of his life. Henry Love was his sister’s ex-husband who thought that Dixon would be the perfect mediator between himself and Laura Dixon. Dixon had decided to stay out of it. He parked his car in different places, so Henry would not know if he were ever at home. So far the plan had worked.

            The idea of buying the Buick had led Dixon to reach over conclusion and he reconsidered them as he sped onto the bypass highway. First, he could not afford to have sports car like Magnum P.I.- Dixon’ hero and inspiration in life. Magnum had a Ferrari and lived in sunny Hawaii, whereas Dixon lived in Ralston where there was always rain and usually snow. Besides the insurance would kill him and the Ferrari was anything but inconspicuous. Driving a junky car like that of Colombo would be signature, but it would probably break down all the time and it was not any less conspicuous than a sports car. So Dixon stuck with his non-noteworthy car, and the fact that it only cost him two thousand dollars.

            He had bought the truck because he thought that Lee Majors had made a valid point about the versatility of such a vehicle in his 1980’s show The Fall Guy. What I really need is a TV-PI show set in Ralston or at least Atlanta.

            Dixon nearly missed his exit to the Park Side, so caught up in his thoughts about the car. The snow had stopped falling, revealing the gray aura of the Ralston night-lit sky. The Park Side sat on a low hillock to the lower side of the East Gate Mall. The theater had been built in the 40’s and had endured through history as a great movie house. The exterior of the theater had been recently redone in a retro-fifty’s facade. The current owner of the Park Side, a fan of big band and swing had it refinished to look like an old dance Palace. The triangulated marquee was lit advertising movies as its’ sequence lights flashed blue red yellow and green filling the winter air with the glow of its performance. Reflections of this and the flashing lights of the eight police cruisers in front of the box office decried a spectacle that had drawn a crowd despite the freezing weather.

            Dixon drove his car off to one side of this riot, and chose a spot between two Toyota Celica’s and headed in on foot. Coming under the bright marquee, Dixon encountered the Police line. Officer Peter Felx blocked his path with a strong arm.

            “Hey!”

            Dixon pulled his faded wallet out and flashed his license out.

            “I know who you are Dix.”

            “So let me pass.”

            “Who invited you?” he shot back.

            “Let him through Felx.” Sergeant Martin Ross joined them.

            “But Sarge, he doesn’t have an invitation.”

            “Let him pass Felx, Darby wants him.”

            Felx made a face but dropped his arm

            “Don’t stay too long Dix.” He sneered.

            Dixon smiled with all his teeth showing and crouched under the Police tape.

            “Thanks Ross.” Dixon told the Sergeant.

            “Don’t flatter yourself Dixon, I only let you in because Darby wants you here.”

“For whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap

I

“For whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.”

(Galatians 6:7)

The phone rang for a long time before Arthur Dixon heard it. He sat asleep in front of his computer in the shadowy office above his home. His head was tilted forward as he snored in stuttering phrases. The ringing pierced the fog of drowsiness and he awoke with a snap as if he had just been stabbed. With a jerking motion, he went for the phone, but his handicapped movements knocked the handset from the cradle. The handset hit the floor and bounced under the desk. With a groan, Dixon slid out of the chair and crawled under the desk.

The voice in the handset led his blinded hand to it. Dixon rejoiced at finding it and tried to stand up, slamming his head and back into the ceiling of his desk. He winced at his failure as he returned to his knees and backed painfully out from under the desk. Exhausted from the effort, he collapsed, leaning back against the desk. He wearily remembered the handset and brought it up to his head.

“Hello?”

“Dix?”

“Yes. What do you-.” He found it impossible to finish.

“Dix, are you awake?” A woman’s voice spoke.

“Yes. No, but I will be soon.”

“Can you come down to the Park Side?”

“Yes. Yes I can- who is this?”

“It’s Jan. Don’t you remember me?”

“Uhm.“ Dixon closed his eyes trying to summon forth a memory of the speaker.

“You don’t remember me.”

“No, wait I do. It’s-“ Nothing came. “I’m sorry, who?”

“Officer Janice Connelly.” Her tone was flat, Dixon decided she was either mad or in a hurry or both. Suddenly his memory jogged, an image appeared in his head.

“Oh! Jan- Darby’s new sidekick.”

“Yes, that is me, although you apparently don’t remember our earlier conversation either.” She was very mad.

“No. No I don’t.”

“Let me refresh your memory. We discussed the fact that I was Darby’s new partner- not his sidekick or his girl, but his equal. That is what partner means, Dix.”

Her words were sharp and Dixon paused.

Silence.

“Oops.”

“It’s okay.” She said, “I’ll forgive you, again.”

“Thanks” Dixon replied with relief.

“Look, the reason I called is that Darby wants you to come down to the Park Side right now.”

“Tonight?”

“Now. Right now.”

“Why?”

“There’s been a murder.”

That detail woke Dixon up, before that he was almost convinced that this whole conversation had been a dream, a bad one. Now it seemed to be a bad reality, and Dixon sat there wishing that it had stayed a dream.

“A murder? A murder at the Park Side?”

“Yes.” She replied. “Look I’ve got to get back, Darby’s giving me a signal and Steve’s getting restless.”

“What about Steve?” Dixon asked but she had already hung up.

the moment has arrived

Peggy shook Paul’s arm as the credits rolled and the house lights came up, but Paul didn’t respond. She sat back in frustration at him ignoring her again. She look up to his face, he was sitting there stiffly, staring at the blank screen.

“Paul?” she said softly. “I want to go home.”

“Come on Paul, be reasonable.” She began again. Peggy leaned over to kiss his cheek and froze as her lips touch his skin. She wanted to scream.

Paul Murray was dead.

next murder piece

Paul made his way back into movie with a drink in each hand, a tub of popcorn between them. This time he ignored the comments and hisses as he sidestepped over to his seat. He handed a drink to Peggy while holding the tub in his teeth.

            “Where’ve you been?” Peggy demanded as quietly as she could manage.

            Paul told his rehearsed lie, She seemed to believe him and fondly touched his wounded face Her thin fingers traced his cheek and then she bent over to kiss him, but he pulled back. She then made a pass for the tub of popcorn, but Paul pulled it away angrily. Peggy sighed and settled back to her original position, cradling her drink. Let him sulk, all he wants, she thought.

As he stuffed the warm popcorn into his mouth, Paul thought about the threat the thug had made. He flinched as he realized that he had put too much butter-salt on his popcorn. He felt chills, but couldn’t figure out where they came from. His wet pants clung to him coldly. The threat pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. The Grover case had looked open and shut- but now Mr. Hubert Grover had sent a thug to threaten him. Paul smiled as the thought of suing Grover for harassment and this theater too. The money floated around in his head. He happily stuffed more popcorn into his mouth, forgetting all about the dampness in his crotch and Caitlin’s attack.

            Peggy suddenly grabbed his arm and said, “This isn’t diet.”

            Paul handed Peggy the other drink and took another handful of popcorn. He arched his back as a stabbing pain reminded him of the force of that push into the urinal.

            “This isn’t diet either!” hissed Peggy with disgust.

Paul felt a wave of nausea as he put another handful of popcorn into his mouth. It had a metallic taste- maybe it was stale. The chills returned and Paul felt them race through his abdomen. The tub of popcorn dropped from his hand. It spilt all over Peggy’s lap and onto the floor.

            “Paul- watch out- you just spilt the ‘corn!” she said trying to squirm out of the way. She began to brush the oily popcorn off her jeans.

            Paul tried to turn his head to look at her but found he couldn’t. Brad Pitt had returned to the screen. He was saying something about death and taxes. Panic rose inside of Paul, and his heart raced. He tried to get up but he couldn’t feel his legs or feet. He tried to move, but his fingers went numb. It was as if his extremities had gone to sleep. He tried to call for help, but only managed to gasp. He blinked and realized that he was paralyzed. He blinked again staring at the screen and at Brad Pitt. Paul agonized at the thought of having to watch Brad Pitt until Peggy would notice and get help. Paul hated Brad Pitt, and having to watch him. Paul thought: I would rather die.

confrontation

Paul sat up, his face had started to swell and it was wet. He absently wiped at the wetness on his cheek. If we had been alone, I would have hit her back, he thought sullenly. His bladder chose at that moment to remind him to be elsewhere. He clambered to his feet and began walking towards the men’s restroom.

“She sure knocked the spit out of you.” cheered a man in blue jeans and black shirt that said something like `Hell Yeah!’ on it. His bald head reflecting the light.

Paul glared at them all and flipped him off- but his gesture was lost in the applause. He walked on into the restroom. He stopped inside the door, new thoughts sprang up in his mind as he replayed the scene and imagined what he would have like to have done to her. Paul walked over to the urinal to relieve the pressure on his bladder.

As he zipped up and flushed, he heard footfalls behind him. Before he could react, a man pushed him hard- crouch first into the urinal. Paul squealed in fright then grunted in pain, as there was sudden pressure in the small of his back. Water flowed over his pants and down his legs pooling on the floor and in his shoes. Steven- Paul thought angrily as he turned his head.

“Look manager-man, “ Paul began “I-“ But he never finished as he realized this man was taller than Steven was. The man was so tall that when Paul looked back, he was staring at the suit jacket of the man.

“Shut up, Shit-head!” The deep gruff voice commanded. “If you don’t lay off the Grover case- yer dead.” The thug size man held Paul in place for one more flush, reaching around Paul’s head with a big arm to pull the handle.

 Terror gripped Paul, he didn’t move. The thug let him go, but Paul remained leaning against the urinal until he heard the man exit. Paul stood there dripping until he felt he had regained his composure. He turned and walked over to the mirrored sink. As he approached, he saw the blood trail on his swollen cheek.

The bitch cut me! He touched the gash, his fear fading fast. She must have been wearing a ring; he grabbed a stretch of paper towel and dabbed it until bleeding stopped. He threw the used towel over his shoulder only to notice the blood on his hand. The hand he had just used to- the thought made him so sick that he dry-retched in the sink. He looked back up at the mirror- a sudden feeling that he had forgotten something.

Peggy! What was he going to tell Peggy! He began thinking ferociously. He soon had worked out a quick and convincing lie. He would tell her that he went to the restroom, water had splashed from the sink and he had slipped, hitting his face on the sink. In the dark she would only notice that he was cut and would give him sympathy. His lie was good and solid.

He smiled as it occurred to him that he could sue the theater. He had the evidence after all and the DA was in his back pocket. The truth might never be known.

Truth, Paul thought as he headed towards the door, truth is a funny thing-so easily twisted, so easily pliant. The door opened as he approached, Steven Lowe appeared. Steven stopped and looked at Paul, instantly noticing the big wet spot in Paul’s crotch. His eyes followed the stain down Paul’s pants legs and along to the puddle behind him. He looked back to Paul, who, caught thinking about his latest lawsuit, looked like a possum caught in someone’s headlights; frozen and stupid. He moved up until he almost stood nose to nose with Paul and said menacingly.

“Don’t come back to this theater again.”

            “Oh.” Paul choked. “Or what?”

            “Or I’ll have you arrested for loitering and public indecency.

            This time Steven’s smile was genuine.

more murder

A year ago, Caitlin had joined the District Attorneys’ office as new lawyers did. She was vigorous and ambitious. She had won several cases in the lower courts and had set her targets on the higher ones. Paul had met her and in a subsequent meeting asked her out. He had placed his hand on her buttocks as a flirtation. Then the next thing he knew, he was being charged with sexual harassment. How did she dare to charge the Assistant DA with such an act? She was just one of those “Militant Feminists” out to destroy men. Out to topple men in high places, like Paul. The case had been thrown out for insufficient evidence and Caitlin summarily dismissed.

Paul smiled at the thought of this woman, having whored her way to the peak only to fall all the way down. Had her disgrace been complete she would have left him alone, but the DA wouldn’t allow him to counter sue.

Caitlin had changed weaponry and came back at him from new directions. She tried to slander his name to the press- that had failed when the Attorney General had backed Paul’s defense. She then began to follow him and harass him over the phone. Paul had a judge put a restraining order against her, but it had only slowed her down. She began to harass his friends and neighbors, and girlfriends. Fortunately she had never learned of Peggy, and Peggy had no knowledge of Caitlin. Still Paul could not help the way he felt about Caitlin and now looking at her like she was a cornered animal; he felt a strange sense of power come over him. Recalling the excitement of gripping her arm, the feel of her goose flesh gave him a sexual excitement that he rarely felt. He wanted so much to reach out and slap her across the face.

“What do you want?” Caitlin began fiercely, wanting to draw notice away from her.

“What do you think, I want?” Paul quipped back. “I have a restraining order against you.”

But I-“ She began, then stopped. “Look, this is just a misunderstanding, I just came to see the movie.”

“Where’s your date?”

“Where’s my what? I came alone.”

“From the West Side?” Paul shot back, the theater being on the northeast side of Railston.

“I was looking for a change of place- I mean pace and this grand old’ theater came to mind.” Caitlin smiled. “How could I have known that you were here?“

“How could you have known? Well, you have been interrogating my neighbors and friends about where I go, what I eat, and who I see.” He said this with an air of authority, feeling power in his words.

“No. It’s not like that.” Caitlin interrupted. “I didn’t interrogate anyone.” She felt a desperation that had clung to her teeth for the last few days.

            “Shut up! Look- what we did is over.” Paul said raising his voice, knowing he could be heard. “You can’t have it back. Get on with your life and leave me alone!”

“What do you mean what we did?” Caitlin replied, her face going pale.

“If I ever see you again-“ Paul said commanding with his tone. “No- if I ever hear of you again, I will sue for every dime you have to your name. No- every dime you will ever have to your name. If that isn’t enough, I will have you charged with solicitation and prostitution!” Paul realized he was shouting, but the glee of his manner kept him going.

“And I mean every word of it you- you clinging, conniving bitch!”

            He glanced back to the concession counter to confirm that he had been heard. He looked back to Caitlin, who sat stiffly with a shocked expression on her face. She looked as if Paul had just slapped her and Paul decided that this was better than hitting her. Almost all the color had drained from her face, her mouth was moving but no sound escaped from her lips. She blinked and then blinked again. Paul looked back to the concession stand to find everyone, three employees, an assistant manager and a customer staring back. Steven, the manager was in his office with a phone call, but had stopped midway and stood with the phone dangling in one hand as if deciding what to do. Paul then turned back to Caitlin.

Caitlin’s mind raced, when Paul had first alluded to a fictitious affair. Then he had completely gone off the hook and accused her of immoral actions, calling her a whore. His words rang in her ears. Solicitations- she had heard this from the judge who had restrained her. Her thoughts were jumbled and she choked as a new understanding struck her like a bolt from the blue. Was that how he had won the lawsuit?

What had Paul Murray told the DA and the judge behind closed doors? Her fingers on her right hand worked the diamond ring around on her index finger as she struggled to come to grips with what Paul had said. Turning the edges of the ring brought new clarity to Paul’s words. He had called her a whore!

“Are you listening to me!” Paul said as he turned back to face her. He heard the door to the office close behind him.

Caitlin did not answer; the thought of Paul’s name-calling had brought a new revelation. Paul had convinced a judge that her allegations of sexual harassment and assault, had been nothing more than Caitlin trying to hide that she had solicited him for sex. The judge had dismissed her case with a warning- she was to maintain professional conduct at all times in the work place and to stop making false or imagined allegations against her superiors. In one stroke, Paul had sullied her reputation and destroyed her career. She had been surprised when the DA had dismissed her, but now the surprise was gone. She looked at Paul with newfound hatred.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to.” Paul said as he glanced once more at the concession stand. The manager stood there now. Paul noted that he wasn’t coming over and relaxed.

He looked back at Caitlin. To his surprise, she made a quick movement and her right arm blurred. Paul barely had time to blink before Caitlin’s right fist connected with his jaw and a searing pain stabbed his face. She knocked the words out of his mouth so hard that saliva hit the wall. Paul toppled off the bench and hit the floor with a thud.  He lay there in shock as Caitlin rose to her feet. She looked at him, then at her hand. She felt her anger drip away as the reality of what he had done flooded back in.

            Cheers erupted as the employees and a customer broke the silence. Caitlin looked back at Paul, somehow knowing what he would do now. She looked over to the concession stand to find Steven grinning and his assistant on the phone. Cops, she thought, not what I need. Despair overcame her; she turned away from Paul and fled the theater out into the night and the rain. Steven followed.

more concessions for murder

Paul waited until Steve-the manager- or- whatever he was- was out of earshot and then looked back at Caitlin. Caitlin was staring off in the direction that the manager had taken. Paul gave a grunt of disgust at her distraction and said.

“Excuse me, Miss Marshal?”

Caitlin came back to reality. “Yes?” she answered nervously.

She looked at Paul as if she had just noticed him as he signaled with his right hand to a baroque style bench, one of eight that ringed the lobby. She turned and walked over to it still massaging the pain in her arm.

Paul followed her, his frustration and anger cooling as he observed the gentle tilting of Caitlin’s hips as she walked. Her buttocks were tight and muscular and moved smoothly as she walked. That guttural feeling returned, and Paul found a new heat building in him as she sat down, adjusting her black velvet skirt over her knee. Caitlin’s legs were long and well toned. She was taller than Peggy was, as almost as tall as Paul himself. She had blonde hair that fell in deep curls about her narrow shoulders, her skin was smooth and her breasts- her breasts were perfect. Paul felt his heat rise as he looked at Caitlin’s breasts held away in her velvet v-cut dress. She was showing cleavage. Paul thought about cupping each of her breasts in his hands. His daydreaming ended when she made a throaty sound and his eyes met her icy blue. Paul’s fever fell like ice in a windstorm.

Caitlin sighed, her eyes still flashing as she remembered Paul had a real obsession with her breasts. The thought made her sick to her stomach. She glared up at him as he went to sit down beside her. She slid further down the bench in order to leave a space between them.

From his position under this cold new glare, Paul began to remember why he had come to hate this woman so much. What had started out as an innocent flirtation had become a nightmare of harassment and subsequent lawsuits. He stared back at Caitlin feeling a new deep sense of rage creeping up inside of him.