Murder Calls

Chapter Four

“It is the courage, the insistence, the ruthless force of youth.”
― Agatha Christie

Barton Hollow, Massachusetts
April 14, 1988
8:57 am

There was an untouched coffee sitting on Jimmy’s desk. He didn’t remember making it and thought perhaps Flo had. Either way, it had gone cold and stale for however long he’d been sitting in his office. He couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. But the hard truth of it was- she was gone and so was their number one witness and only lead.

The funeral wouldn't be until Saturday and while he was sure Marissa’s grandmother wouldn't want him there, Jimmy was going. Not only as the chief of police, but as a friend. Because Jimmy was a friend way before he went on one ill-fated date with her. He was also hoping that their killer would go to the wake and funeral, Jimmy knew it was a long shot, but he could only hope. Without Marissa and with how long the warrant for the video cameras were taking, Jimmy and his boys were losing ground on their killer.

Jimmy could see it on their faces, in the crevices around their eyes. Callahan, who was the second youngest in their little police force, looked as if he had aged five years; his hair was collecting more greys and there was an ever present look in his eyes. Powell was no better, the murder had really messed him up when he found out how close it was to his house. How close it was to his wife and kid. From the looks of it, Powell hadn’t been sleeping and Jimmy was getting the fallout for that when his wife called every other day asking after him. Jimmy couldn’t put up much of a fuss when Marilyn was doing the exact same thing when he got home. It helped when Kevin would show him a new album or Jane would just sit out back with him not saying anything until dinner was ready.

Then there was Russel, who looked like the devil himself was chasing him. There was this hunted look in his eyes that had been there since the murder had been called in. He hated to think about it, but Jimmy couldn't help but notice how stiff the kid had got at the sight of Marissa’s blood splattered across the wall like a Picasso painting, with the brain matter as a centerpiece. He hadn't seen that lost, hopeless look since Heath admitted to the abuse his bastard of a father inflicted on him.

To sum it up, they were all feeling the pressure of the case. Terrified it was going to happen again and frustrated for not knowing why someone would target Marissa, Jimmy was at a loss. He figured the best course of action was to go and face Marissa’s grandmother. He couldn’t put it off forever and today seemed like the best day, if any, to do it. Groaning, Jimmy stood from his chair, his back cracking and scooped his mug up before heading to the door.

“Russel!” He called, not bothering to lower his voice. It caused the sleeping Callahan to snort himself awake and Russel, who was sitting behind his desk, to sit up straight. Jimmy turned his back to pour the mug out, but not before he saw Russel give him an impressive glare that could’ve set a dried out tree on fire.

“What?” Heath drawled, pushing a pencil back from the edge of his desk. Jimmy gave him the look from over his shoulder and did so until Heath sighed heavily and growled out, “what chief?”

Jimmy rolled his eyes as he turned back to finish rinsing out his mug while also wondering how someone could put so much disdain and disrespect into one word. “Finish up whatever you’re doing and then we’re heading out to the morgue.” That got Russel’s and Callahan’s attention, the two shared a look before Russel turned his incredulous gaze back to Jimmy. He placed the now clean mug onto the counter and answered the unasked question, “we need to talk to Ms. Walden before we go any further and before the funeral.”

From the corner of his eye, Jimmy saw Russel stiffen and seemed to have a hard time reigning himself in. Which was strange since the kid was one of the toughest sons of bitches that Jimmy knew. It seemed the case was getting to even the iron stomachs, he tried not to think of the reason.