First Murder (29 page)

“Stuckey. He got a call last night. David said it pissed him off.”

“Karen Hewes?” Ray’s face was a study in worry lines and hard set. Questions raced through his mind. Could they have anticipated this?
Should
they have anticipated it? The video? Karen’s denial of knowing Stuckey? It was a disturbing set of events, but until they had the chance to interview them again, to confront their lies, there wasn’t anything more they could have done. It hadn’t felt that urgent.

“There’s no way we could have seen this coming.” It was as if Tony read his partner’s thoughts. “We were minutes from coming over here to front the woman.”

“I know, damn it.”

Tony grasped Ray’s shoulder. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Tony looked from his partner to the house and back to Ray’s determined face.

“The Fredrickson woman.”

“And the knife.”

Ray looked up at the house, but what he saw was a vision of Deanna Fredrickson crumpled and bloody, a knife stuck in her chest, and the surprised look in her sightless eyes.

“How do you want to do it?” Tony asked. He took out his Glock and chambered a round.

Ray placed a hand on Tony’s arm. “Without gun play, if possible.”

“If possible,” Tony said and nodded.

The patrolman edged next to Ray. “Okay, SWAT’s gearing up. There’s a hostage team en-route and the Watch Captain.”

“I’m a certified negotiator,” Ray said. “We know these people. I’m going to go talk to them.”

“You should wait for the Captain.” The young uniformed cop looked concerned. Tony didn’t recognize him.

“But I’m not going to. We’re going in now.” Ray looked up at the sound of distant sirens. “And you…get on the horn and tell them to shut down those sirens. Right now, officer.”

Ray peered into the kitchen through the side door window. Stuckey and Karen Hewes were huddled on the floor, legs splayed, leaning against the cabinets under the sink. He had one arm around her throat, holding her close and a knife in the other hand pressed under her breast.

“Just shut the fuck up!” Ray heard Stuckey say through the closed door. His voice was high and pleading. It looked like Stuckey was crying.

Tony eased the storm door fully open and set the stop. Ray grasped the door knob and twisted it slowly. It was unlocked. Karen Hewes was wide eyed and trembling, but she wasn’t crying. She saw Ray’s face in the window, saw the knob turn, and a mean, thin humorless smile flashed across her face. Ray saw it. It was brief, just a second—two seconds, at most. It was a look that chilled and puzzled him. Then the sneering smile vanished and Karen started calling out, screaming, yelling, struggling against Stuckey’s grip.

“He’s crazy! Help me! Oh God…”

Ray opened the door, pushed it wide and stepped into the kitchen, holding his empty hands out at his side.

“Sean.” Ray moved further inside and to the right. Tony followed. His hands weren’t empty. He held the Glock two-handed, pointed down at the floor, knees flexed.

“Thank God! He attacked me! Do something…” Karen Hewes was frantic, yelling nonstop. “Do something. He’s going to kill me! Do something!”

“Put the knife down, Sean.” Ray gestured with his palm. “This isn’t so bad yet, but put the knife down, Sean.”

“Shut up you freak!” Stuckey tightened his arm, trying to shut the woman up. Tony could see him straining. He brought the gun up. Ray touched Tony’s arm lightly.

“Oh God. He killed her! He’ll kill me too!” Karen keened.

Ray had to shout over her shrieks. “Knife down! We need to talk, Sean.”

“Fuckin’ A we do! Shut her up!” Karen kept wailing and screaming at the top of her lungs. Every time Stuckey started to say something she screamed louder.

“Karen! SHUT UP!” Tony’s eyes snapped wide open. He had no idea his partner had pipes like that. Ray’s voice boomed over and through the woman’s shrieking. “Now get up, both of you. Knife down! Leave the knife on the floor.”

“She called…” Stuckey was trying to talk. Karen thrashed, twisted, and squirmed, the crying and pleading started up again.

“He’s going to kill me. Do something! Shoot him!” She bucked wildly against him, tugging at Stuckey’s arm around her throat, heedless of the knife.

“I’ve got the shot,” Tony said evenly. Stuckey was looking straight into the pistol barrel.

“Wait!” Stuckey jerked the knife from Karen’s breast and tossed it on the floor. His hand free, he cupped it over her mouth and started to stand, struggled to one knee. Karen, gasping, her pleading throttled, trying to bite him.

“I
want
you to take me in. You have to listen.”

“We’re listening. Now, let the woman go, Sean.” With a mighty effort Sean Stuckey heaved up, dragging Karen with him, still choking her neck, still cupping her mouth.

“Ever since…” Karen twisted. She wrenched her head from side to side. She kicked at him, tried to stomp on his foot. “She’s been…” Karen’s teeth found skin, she bit down hard. Stuckey jerked his bleeding hand free. The keening and wailing returned.

“He wants money!” she shrieked before Stuckey clamped his hand back over her mouth. He looked at Ray, puzzled…confused.

“Money?”

The room detonated in that instant.

Artillery exploded from the dining room doorway—a spear of flame reached halfway across the kitchen. Sean Stuckey’s head burst into a cloud of gristle and bone, gray brain matter and red mist.

Ray watched, deafened, frozen, unbelieving, as Stuckey’s body tilted, hurled toward the gout of blood and brains that erupted from the side of his ruined head. His feet left the ground, arms flailing, already lifeless, useless…already dead. His body landed on its side, bounced once on the hard tile floor, and settled into a death pose.

Karen Hewes still had her voice, wailing just as loudly as before. She collapsed on the floor, writhing in the widening pool of blood surrounding Stuckey’s body, trying to gain traction, desperate to rise.

Ray looked over at Tony. He hadn’t fired the shot. Tony looked to the right over Ray’s shoulder.

Gary Hewes leaned into the doorway, a smoking rifle still to his shoulder, held down, pointed toward the floor at an angle. He was wearing the same limp pajamas. He also wore a smug satisfied smile. Tony whipped the pistol in his direction, took stance and aim.

“Drop the rifle!”

“Right fucking now!” Ray’s pistol was leveled too, his command voice as loud as the rifle shot.

“Okay. Okay.” Gary Hewes staggered slightly in the doorway and leaned the rifle against the wall. “Got the bastard, though. Got him.” He doubled over into a fit of coughing.

“On the floor!” Ray boomed, moving toward Hewes, pistol in his right hand, fishing under the back of his jacket with his left.

“What?” Hewes, still hacking, looked up at Ray.

Karen crawled over to Tony and was clutching his legs, smearing Stuckey’s blood and brain matter on them, still sobbing and mewling.

“On the floor! He dropped the knife you stupid motherfucker. On the floor!” Hewes dropped to his knees, uncomprehending. Ray forced him the rest of the way down, slammed his cheek into the cold hard tile and wrenched his hands behind him. “He dropped the knife.” Ray ratcheted the cuffs tight.

The front door crashed inward, ram battered open. Picture frames fell to the floor amid wood shards and splinters. Black clad figures poured in, more SWAT officers edged in the back door, automatic weapons tracked right and left, searching for a target.

“Clear!” Ray’s voice boomed again, waving them off.

“Clear! It’s all clear!” Tony shouted.

“What a fucking mess.” The captain was shaking his head, taking in the body on the floor, the blood, and the coughing figure handcuffed on the other side of the kitchen island. He ordered the SWAT team out, dodged the body and pooling blood, shrugged off the cloying hysterical woman and went over to Ray and Tony who were standing over Gary Hewes.

“What happened? You guys do that?” He jerked a thumb towards Stuckey’s body.

“No.”

“You arresting this guy?” The captain was looking down at Gary Hewes. Ray nodded. “What charge?”

“Let’s start with murder.”

“Murder?” Gary Hewes twisted on the floor, trying to get a look at the men standing over him. “Are you fucking nuts? The guy was going to kill my wife, for chrissakes.” The captain looked at Ray.

“We had it under control, Cap. Stuckey, that’s Stuckey over there, he’d dropped the knife. He wanted to talk. He was surrendering.” Ray’s breathing was deep with anger, controlled so the rage he felt didn’t complicate the situation any further.

Paramedics were ministering to Karen, one trying to calm her, the other looking for a wound. Karen, drenched in Sean Stuckey’s blood, was hysterical. Tony hauled Gary Hewes to his feet.

“Then this guy, the husband, lets loose with the deer rifle.” Ray pointed to the scoped long gun leaning against the wall.

“He was gonna kill her. I didn’t know he dropped the knife.”

“Captain, we’re going to have to sedate this woman to transport her.”

Karen struggled against the paramedics’ grasp. Her wails cast an eerie desperate pall over the scene. The captain nodded.

“How did you know he even had a knife?” Tony had a grip on Hewes’ arm and bodily turned him toward the body on the floor. “They were behind the counters. You couldn’t see them from the dining room. How did you know he had a fucking knife?” Hewes tried to turn away from Stuckey’s ruined body. Tony didn’t let him.

“I saw it, okay. And
he
said it.” Hewes jerked his head toward Ray.

“Not okay. How long were you out there?”

“De Luca, stand down.” The captain glanced around the kitchen. Karen Hewes was quieting, the sedative slowly taking hold. “Let’s take this party downtown, gentlemen. You’re arresting this guy, right?” Ray nodded. “Then we need to get him booked and Mirandized. Play by the rules.”

“How long were you out there, Gary? What did you hear?”

“I said stand down!” The captain’s face reddened. He ordered Ray and Tony out of the kitchen, told them to send a uniform in to collect the prisoner. His experienced eye didn’t see Hewes going down for murder, but he wasn’t going to let technicalities screw things up.

On the way out of the door Ray leaned over close to Tony’s ear.

“Nice try, partner.”

R
ay, Tony, and Carol stood shoulder to shoulder looking over the throng. Deanna Fredrickson’s funeral drew hundreds of people who wanted to pay their respects to the woman who had touched so many lives, people from the hospital and the library board, the soup kitchen at the homeless shelter and even some gym rats.

The ‘Go Girls’, all dressed in somber mournful black, clustered just behind the family. They whispered and daubed tissues, holding onto each other, not wanting to say goodbye to their friend and sister. Erika and Roxy were openly crying, their heads pressed together, arms around each other.

The family stood close together, holding hands, looking up at the polished wooden casket on the altar, closed now, with a large portrait of Deanna facing the gathered host. Tony realized they hadn’t seen or talked to Scott Fredrickson in several days. He didn’t look much better than the last time they’d met, still gray skinned and red eyed.

David Hong, his toothy smile terribly out of place in the sea of sadness, waved at Tony from across the cathedral. He and Hank Swenson were near the back of the church. Tony, stone faced, nodded in reply.

Missing from the scene were Karen and Gary Hewes. Deanna’s best friend was sedated at Regions hospital; still, according to reports, prone to frenzied episodes of screeching and wailing when the drugs wore down. Physically she was fine. Mentally? Ray suspected there was more in play than her recent ordeal but kept his misgivings close for the time being.

Gary Hewes was in jail, but not for long. His lawyers were massaging the judge and the DA’s office and the media for his release. The papers and the TV, reporting on information from Hewes’ attorney and ‘sources close to the investigation’ were hailing his desperate heroic measures in saving his wife from the knife wielding psychopath who was the prime suspect in the Deanna Fredrickson murder investigation.

The three detectives standing together in respectful silence
were
the investigation, not just ‘close to it’, and not one of them had given the media so much as a crumb.

Tony basked in the praise and congratulations of his fellow officers for closing his first murder in spectacular fashion. Six-plus years on the street and not once had he made the front page of the
Trib
or the
Pioneer Press
. They slapped his back and bought him drinks at The Red Door and teased about him being a super sleuth. He’d wallowed in it until Ray had a word with him.

It wasn’t until the casket had been lowered into the grave and the crowd departed that Ray could have a moment with Lakisha. At first Tony held back, intending to give his partner some privacy, but Ray motioned for him to join him.

“Tough day,” Ray said to Lakisha. He had his hands in his overcoat pockets. Lakisha stood close and laid her head on his chest, clutching her own coat closed tight against the cold breath of October’s gray finale. “How you holdin’ up?”

“I’m fine. I think I’m okay.” Ray draped a comforting arm across her shoulder. Lakisha looked up at him, at his solemn face, at his eyes looking off over the cemetery. Tony thought they looked good together and hoped Mr. Marland would stay wherever the hell he was for a long time.

“Is it true what the papers say?” she asked. “That young man Gary shot, did he murder Dee?”

“That’s what a lot of people think. What do you think, Tony?”

Ray shifted his gaze toward his young partner. De Luca just shrugged. He didn’t know, not for sure. A lot of things pointed toward Stuckey. He wanted it to be the case, wanted to be able to close the files and move on but doubt nagged at him so he just shrugged.

Hewes’ lawyers, for all their efforts to convict Stuckey in the press, hadn’t mentioned the most damning evidence the detectives had uncovered. There was no mention of the porn episode. The people ‘close to the investigation’ hadn’t mentioned it either. They couldn’t. The only people who knew about the ‘
Ur
MoM
’ episodes were Ray, Tony, Carol, Jonny Kumpula, and a pervert named DuPree.