Shoe

Shoe

This is a submission for the, "Crime & Punishment 2023 Story Event," event.

©Al Tend

*****

"That's her. That's my wife." I said in a flat, dead voice. I felt almost as lifeless as Delilah obviously was lying there on the cold, hard slab in the city morgue.

I just felt somehow empty inside. No paralyzing grief. No tears. Empty.

"I'm sorry for your loss," intoned the Doctor in a deep bass, suitable for this somber setting. He pulled the sheet back into place, covering her.

Even despite the rough patch that we had been going through lately, I still had some sympathy left for her. No one deserved her death. That's one of the reasons I became a cop, to protect people from pointless crimes. Now she was hidden beneath a simple sterile cloth. Gone forever.

He shoved a clipboard at me with some paperwork on it that I had to sign. I was too stunned to focus on anything. I just scrawled my signature and shambled listlessly toward the door.

Detective, Suzy...something...for the life of me I couldn't remember her last name, grabbed my arm as if to steady me. Although I didn't really need her help, we retreated together from that macabre mortuary.

Although I had shared some small talk with Suzy a time or two over the years, in the break room, we weren't really close friends. My marriage precluded anything that wouldn't pass the spouse, 'sniff-test,' interaction between us. In fact, she'd even been to some of our house-parties. As I recalled, she really 'cleaned up nice,' when she let her long blonde hair down and changed out of the business, blue pinstriped, pantsuit she wore here at the shop and poured her voluptuous figure into a low cut black party dress. With three-inch-heeled black pumps she matched my, six foot frame and sure felt nice when we shared a slow dance or two. One night, she even gave me a back-handed compliment when she said, "I like your ruggedly handsome mug, I could go for you...if it wasn't for the fact you're married."

I knew why Detective Suzy was accompanying me. In any kind of murder, the spouse is always the first suspect. If she was hoping that the shock of seeing Delilah that way would cause me to break down and confess to murdering my wife - well, casual friend she may be, but she just didn't know me. And she was going to be sadly disappointed.

When we reached the elevator, that would carry us from the basement up to the second floor Squad Room, Suzy pressed the button. But I decided, surprising even to me, I was suddenly too upset and agitated to wait. "I'm going to take the stairs," I announced and headed for them at the end of the corridor.

"OK," she replied quietly. I supposed, respecting my unspoken and unfelt grief. "I'll come with you."

We trudged down the dimly lit hall, side by side, sharing the silence and putting distance between us and the strong pickle-like stench of formaldehyde. As Suzy and I ambled lethargically along, my mind wandered back to before I had married Delilah.

*****

I was in my early 20's, a recent graduate from college with a degree in criminology and then also the Police Academy - which all cops went to. And Delilah, a couple of years younger than me, had just finished her degree in Business Management. The usual story - we met at a drunken college 'kegger.' I decided I was in lust if not yet in love. She had a beautiful heart shaped face, gorgeous long straight, raven-black hair - and of course her big delicious looking boobs mounted on an equally delicious looking body.

Somehow amidst all the suds and silliness, we got to know enough about each other to figure we clicked. It didn't take too many dates before we fell into the sack together and discovered we liked playing wild monkeys with each other. Sometime over the next few months we decided that we would make it permanent when we graduated.

Like most young couples, it wasn't all just rainbows and unicorns - we had our share of poor paying, bottom-rung, starter positions, and crappy little apartments. There were also the usual 'ups and downs' that all marriages go through. Over the next half dozen years, though, we both advanced in our careers. As we took on more responsibility there came more stress, and even more long-hours - that didn't mesh with enough 'us time.' Money hassles became a thing of the past, but so unfortunately did the monkey sex. Things had become so bad lately that I couldn't really remember the last time we had a really wild romp in the sack. It seemed we had just wound down to, 'maybe on the weekend.' Sadly, I reflected, it seemed that our love for one another had fizzled out along with our lust.

*****

"What happened?" I blurted out as Suzy and I reached the stairs.

Of course she didn't know the maudlin train of nostalgia I had wandered into and assumed I was talking about the immediate problem of the murder. In fact I had been thinking about the last conversation I had with my wife before her death.

Delilah had made the dreaded, 'We have to talk,' pronouncement. There was somebody else she had been sleeping with. And she had filed for divorce. No negotiating.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Shoe - may I call you Shoe?" Suzy's soft yet somehow sexy voice that was beginning to grow on me, dragged me back to the here and now.

"That's funny..." I thought. "I had never noticed before, that even when we had danced together, she had always called me by my, shortened but real name, John." Maybe I was finally starting to come out of my state of shock and feel things again, but I liked this little touch of increasing intimacy between us.

"Sure, all my friends do, and I'd like it if you did to." I attempted the hokey old, feeble, jokey rhyme with a sincere smile that I beamed at her.

It kind of worked, she smiled - genuinely, I thought - back to me, and she continued on with, "so sad to die like that...so young..."

However, personal feelings aside, my own detective antennae went up. I couldn't help but notice that she was avoiding the question she thought I had asked.

By now we were passing the first floor landing. I decided to put my troubles aside - time to mourn later - and focus on the here and now.

I asked directly, in a soft friendly voice, "Please tell me what happened...nobody has told me anything other than she was apparently murdered...what do you know...that I don't?"

Again she deftly avoided the question by asking a question - a move right out of the Detective 101 course, "Are you sure you want to talk about it now...I only know a few basic facts...Why don't we wait, before getting into it? Buddy is the lead detective on the case...he'll know more."

I knew Buddy. We had gone to the Academy together. He was an asshole then and I couldn't imagine that he had gotten any better over the years. He'd even been an asshole while socializing at some of our parties. I'd only invited him to not be rude.

I was going to rephrase my request for info when she announced. "Here we are safely back at the squad room. She even got the door for me to enter. And again with that friendly, yet enigmatic smile that I now found to be very intriguing. Despite feeling somewhat guilty, given our present circumstances, I decided the look suited Suzy and made her seem quite attractive.

*****

"Schumacher, finally you've arrived. We've all been waiting here for you - let's get this show on the road." the Captain bellowed, guaranteeing that everyone in the squad room would stop what they were doing and listen. I also noted his use of my full surname, rather than my usual nickname, Shoe. It struck me as a deliberate putdown, like I was just a lowly rookie again.

"I'm not arresting you or even suspending you, at this time," he continued, definitely piquing everybody's curiosity. "But until we can clear this up, I'm placing you on modified duty. Give me your gun...you aren't allowed to carry it where you're going.

Now...go with Buddy and Detective...um...Susan. Who I see you're already been hiding in stairwells with - and your deceased wife not even decently buried. Suspicious that...anyhow they have some questions for you."

I was just mortified at his cavalier attitude about my grief. I thought resentfully, "Not even the professional courtesy of a compassionate, "Go home...get some rest...we'll talk later."

The bastard continued with a lame attempt at humour, playing to his audience, "And needless to say, don't leave town!" he barked at me loud enough to imprint it on the entire squad. There was no sympathy in his voice, as he said it with a condescending smirk on his face.

Buddy, the asshole, with an ego almost as big as the Captain's, was by his side and was positively glowing at my discomfort.

I was totally taken aback by the Captain's attack. I had considered him to be a good friend. We'd been out drinking a few times with the guys from the squad - just 'shooting the shit and blowing off steam.' My wife and I had even had him over to our condo when we got the gang, with their wives or girlfriends, together for the odd party.

The divorced, 'for infidelity on his part' - according to the grapevine - Captain flirted outrageously with Delilah any chance he got. At this year's New Year's bash, he had danced her under a mistletoe, and I thought he was trying to kiss her face off. They only stopped that inappropriate behaviour when I went to rescue her. She didn't seem too appreciative for me claiming her. They laughed it off as drunken fun...

Without missing a beat, she took Buddy for a spin. That didn't last for long. She didn't slap him before she pushed him away. He gave me a shit-eating grin. Next, she danced into the gaggle of women, Suzy amongst them, gyrating to the tunes. Delilah had told me about her Bi adventures before we got married - I knew she was a wild child. But, rubbing my nose in it - embarrassing me in front of everybody? She wouldn't - would she?

Why? That's what I couldn't figure out - maybe I was too trusting - maybe there was something more going on here?

Buddy cleared his throat impatiently, snapping me out of my reverie. There was no love lost between us, going back to our Academy days. "Asshole," I thought, he was capable of doing...Well...Anything...to get me for some imagined wrong - but I wasn't the one who had anonymously accused him of cheating. I told him that. The over-confident smirk on his ugly mug told me, he may seem to accept that denial, for now. But he's still out to get me. And he is a cheater. And he's still hiding something.

I handed my weapon to the Captain.

Buddy led us to an interrogation room.

The squad members, that had hung around to see the show had picked up on the Captain's tone and demeanor and gave me the cold - hell frigid - shoulder. It occurred to me that they were behaving like wild dogs - any sign of weakness and the pack would turn on you - pull you down and take your place. No sympathy or support whatsoever. That's what cut the deepest, I was definitely no longer 'one of the boys.' Any past friendship, conveniently forgotten.

As I made my lonely perp walk towards the door, it suddenly became clear to me that I was confronting a deeply disturbing conundrum. Despite being a long serving, experienced cop, I still basically wanted to believe in the good in people. I still wanted to trust them, especially those that I was close to like my Squad-mates. But now I had to re-evaluate that. Maybe they weren't worthy of trust? Maybe I had always been too naïve?

*****

Suzy was by my side, firmly gripping my arm.

The only supportive eyes in the room were hers and she wasn't even one of the guys that I had called friend, until this happened. I gave her a real smile this time and a nod of thanks. She smiled back with that open, trusting look she had given me just moments before. And reassuringly squeezed my hand.

Buddy brusquely chased us into the interview room. I knew the routine from having conducted dozens of these interrogations myself. Only this time I was sitting in the 'presumed guilty until you can prove yourself innocent' chair facing the one-way mirror and hidden camera.

Once we were seated, he raced through the little prepared speech about my rights. He read it from a card that he had fished out of his expensive looking suit - Probably so he wouldn't make a mistake and risk an appeal.

He wasted no time getting right to the heart of the matter. "You know Shoe, if you just confess to killing your wife now, and don't waste everybody's time, it will go easier on you." He glared at me like I was some newbie that he could browbeat into submission.

I just laughed at him, as I thought, "Yep still just an entitled-preppy...asshole."

"I didn't do it!" I said in a loud, clear, firm voice. Glaring right back at him.

Buddy in a disgusted voice spat out, "Give up man, this is a 'slam-dunk' case."

"Suzy jumped into the growing, oppressive pissing contest by saying soothingly, "Shoe wants to know the facts that we have...so far..." Her voice had trailed off towards the end, but she looked at me with her encouraging smile.

I was familiar with this cliché technique of 'Good Cop, Bad Cop,' and had already decided to respond cooperatively to the Good Cop, Suzy.

"Listen Shoe," Buddy began, "We've got you 'dead to rights.' But if you insist on doing it the hard way...so be it."

And then it began.

"Do you possess a personal sidearm that you keep at home?"

"Yes, a 9mm that I bought for Delilah's security. She gets...got...scared when she was home alone, with me sometimes unexpectedly called away to be on the job all night. She kept it in the bedside table, on her side of the bed."

"So, you've admitted it's yours. If you thought wiping it down would somehow throw us off-track, you need to guess again. Your prints are all over the clip and bullets. You knew where she kept it. You obviously know how to use it, since it's the same as our standard department issued weapons. The only thing I can't figure out about this is, according to your range requalifying records, you're a mediocre shot. How did you manage to get her gun and put three slugs through her heart? And in such a tight cluster?"

I didn't know that detail. I sat there stunned. "That's real rage," I admitted. My training had implanted that automatic thought. "But it's speculation on your part, it doesn't prove I did it. Anyone could have fired that gun - even you."

Before, I could control myself, I was getting in his face with my attitude, "Is that your little secret that you've been gleefully hording? Am I supposed to collapse into a tearful confession, before you spew out even more horrific details?"

Suzy interrupted, on my behalf, by mildly scolding him, "Buddy, is it really necessary to get so...graphic."

"Yes," he barked at her. Then he puffed up like a frog and croaked, "I'll remind you that I'm the lead investigator here."

She had bought me a moment to collect myself. I chose to believe that was her plan. I was beginning to think, "Maybe she really is on my side and it's not just an act." I took it as a vote of innocent by a jury of one.

That thought was rapidly filed for future consideration as I concentrated on this new info. "Whoever it was that did this somehow discovered where that gun was." I mused out loud. "That's very curious and hard to explain. And they were an excellent shot. This wasn't just some random burglary gone wrong...this was more like an assassination.

To cool Buddy's jets a bit, I threw in, "I wonder if the Captain could give us any insight about that. He goes to all of those shooting competitions and has an office full of marksman trophies. Maybe he knows someone..."

Buddy snorted, "Damned right it wasn't a burglary. There was no sign of forced entry. I doubt he'd do anything for you, after the way he's been going on about you being nothing but a wimpy-cuck, that doesn't deserve a woman like her. And how he sends you out on menial cases just to get rid of you for a while."

"What...?"

Then he hit me with another fact, that I did not know, "She was naked, with obvious signs of just having been laid...before you shot her!"

I would never admit it but all of those revelations were tearing chunks out of me.

Suzy interrupted, "Buddy...there's no need for that. Shoe, I apologise for his crude..."

I appreciated her help but I was pissed off now.

"Wow," I interrupted, "More juicy little tidbits to throw at me - the hits just keep on coming.

But you're looking at the wrong guy.

I'm innocent!

You should be looking at her lover!"

You could have heard a pin drop, when I let that painful admission out.

Buddy just stopped dead in the middle of sucking up another lung full of air out of the room, before hurling another blast at me.

Suzy sighed out a soulful, "Oh, Shoe..." and she instinctively reached out and held my hand.

Buddy tried to regain the momentum that my disclosure had squelched, by demanding, "Explain that..."

"It's the same old story that happens all of the time. Delilah, my late, so-called wife, told me she had filed for divorce...that she had been involved in an affair for some months..."

"Shoe how terrible for you. I am so, so sorry..." Suzy was still holding my hand and now patting it with the other. "If you need someone to talk to...or just a shoulder to cry on..." she offered. That offer was very tempting, right then.

"Wait," I said, "There's more. Not only was she dumping me, she was dumping her lover too. She just got sick of cops and all the stress of never knowing when they'd come home - Or even if they'd make it home. She was just going to leave and start again somewhere else where she could have a normal life, with a man that worked a boring regular job.

And, No, I don't know who it is. She wouldn't tell me - believe me, I'm not the type of guy to beat a confession out of anybody, much less a woman.

But back to her murder. Think about what you said. There's no reason I can think of for her to take out that gun...unless she was going to use it. For some reason she must have pulled it out. Whoever took it away from her and shot her with it...well, we know he's an expert shot and familiar with a 9mm. So there's a great big lead for you to follow up Buddy. Put that together with her divorcing me...add in her low-life Lothario, and it smells like a lover's quarrel that got terribly out of hand.

Just a thought for you to follow up, Buddy. As you so colorfully said, 'She had just been laid.' Was there a semen discharge?"

I found it was easier if I used the more clinical term rather than, 'dripping with some Bastard's slimy cum.'

Buddy seemed at a loss for words. I imagine he must be totally mortified at the obvious things he had missed - or not checked out - before this confrontation. Not prepared. Having me point that out to him... What a 'Hot-Shot,' lead homicide detective, indeed. I actually felt sorry for him.

He just nodded his head affirmatively, suddenly defeated - all of the blustery prima-donna, show boating seeming to have drained out of him.

Suzy was still keeping a tight squeeze on my hand, in support. I really appreciated it - I needed her strength to get through this.

His silence allowed me the chance to take the lead. "When the lab guys type the DNA, it will prove that it wasn't me in that room. And it will help nail the real perp."

I threw him a bone as a peace offering. "When we...and I mean us three as a team, figure out who it is...you'll be a Hero." I could be magnanimous. I was confident, because...

I really am innocent.

That settled, I continued to try fitting the pieces together. I know they are all there. "Who had motive and opportunity...?"

In my mind, I pushed around that old adage with all of the bits and pieces.