The Perfect Crime

CHAPTER 14: A PERFECT SETUP

In this life, keep your enemies close and your friends even closer because friends make better enemies.
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Detective Benjamin Moore had grown up in a predominantly female household on the outskirts of East Boston. It had always been his mother, two aunts and his sister versus his father, his younger brother and ofcourse, himself. They weren't as rich as the rest of the families that lived there but they got on fairly well. Atleast, there was always food on the table. Benjamin's father would die first before he let his family starve.

Benjamin's father was one of those emotions-make-you-weak fathers. A staunch supporter of tough love. The biggest display of love Benjamin's father had ever showed to his children was a light pat on the shoulder. Benjamin's mother, on the hand, was the fluttering fairy type. If she wasn't down in the kitchen whipping up a fresh batch of oatmeal cookies, she was somewhere in the house with a magic broom making everything spick and span. Even in her sleep, she was already planning what to cook for dinner the next day. Then arthritis had swooped her off her busy feet and into the confines of a rocking chair in their backyard.

His mom's illness had left a void in young Benjamin's chest which he had filled with sex, booze and drugs. Nothing serious though. Then he'd met a very volatile Rukelle Savannah, the proverbial school bully, and he'd instantly known that she was the only one who could fill the void in his chest. After an intense pursuing and a brief dating period, Benjamin and Rukelle had gotten married at the courthouse in downtown Boston with only his brother, Bernard and Rukelle's younger sister, Rachel as witnesses. The rest of his family had not attended because they had not approved of Benjamin's choice of a wife. It didn't matter to Benjamin now. Nine years had a way of numbing the pain of his family's rejection.

Benjamin had thought that his marriage to Rukelle would be just like those in the movies. He had believed that marriages were all about love, friendship, trust and support. In other words he wanted a picture perfect marriage. Rukelle, on the other hand, didn't do so well with anything that was perfect: even something as sacred as marriage. So she had started finding ways of picking fights with Benjamin over the smallest of things. When that didn't work, Rukelle had found an even better way to ruin their marriage. She had gone and robbed a corner-store. And that had marked the end of their marriage.

Benjamin still missed his ex-wife. He saw her everywhere. At work, in his dreams and occasionally, at their daughter's school. Benjamin knew that Rukelle was trying to reach out in her own way. He also knew that if he offered to help Rukelle reconnect with their daughter she would flee. Rukelle suffered from an extreme case of survivor's guilt. Ever since her brief stay in prison, Rukelle thought that she didn't deserve to be happy. She believed that if she met her daughter, she would ruin her just like she'd done with their marriage.

His marriage, however catastrophic it was, had also given him the most precious thing in the world; his daughter. Benjamin didn't know if it was a good or a bad thing that his daughter had the looks and character of her mother.

Rachel Bernice Moore had inherited her mother's feisty nature. At eight years old, she had the attitude of a Tasmanian Devil. Just yesterday, Rachel had adopted a stray kitten and had brought it home. When Benjamin had asked her to take it back out, she had blatantly refused and thrown a huge fit. This morning while Rachel was still asleep, Benjamin had tried to throw the cat out. It had woken up instantly and scratched the skin off his arms. Rachel had woken up and laughed at him. Then she had seen the blood on her father's arms and she'd cried. Rachel had felt so guilty, she had even fed him breakfast. Maybe the cat wasn't so bad after all.

Now, Benjamin sat in the reception of the Boston state mortuary admiring the long thin scars that marred his arms. He still had a bone to pick with a certain cat and when he got home tonight, they were going to have a stern talk –man to cat. His arms resembled a torn rug but he didn't mind. All that mattered right now was Harleigh's autopsy, which he was here to preside over. Lady luck wasn't smiling down on him these days. He was always assigned the worst jobs. From notifying the Amari family to presiding over autopsies. Very soon, he would be crawling into septic tanks to extract dead bodies.