Skunk Cabbage

Cooper Conell groans as he rolls on his side. Grabbing the bedpost, he pulls himself up, coughing until he’s a wheezing breathless wreck.

The sad part is this is as good as he’s going to feel all day.

He blows a kiss at his late wife’s photo.

Cooper grimaces, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his hip as he wobbles to a standing position. He pats his ever-expanding belly, running his hand over his bald pate where his rich black hair used to be.

“…The golden years…,” he mutters to himself.

Dressed and ready for work. Cooper searches the front porch for his newspaper. It’s missing again, with only a CVS flyer left behind billowing in the wind.

“A thief who hates ads. Looks like I’ve got another mystery to solve before I hang up my shield,” the soon-to-be ex-detective says.

“One more month and I’ll be rid of you, old school,” Cooper’s partner, Marco Mazetti jokes. Obsessed with looking professional, Marco checks his looks in the wall mirror, combing his thick locks.

Marco’s whitened smile fades when realizes Cooper is staring off into nothingness.

“I should have gone out at thirty years,” Cooper says. “I thought, nah, I’m in good shape, I can easily make it to thirty-five. That was before the emphysema, and before Goldie got cancer. What am I going to do without her, Marco?”

“You’ve still got a great daughter who’s a success and two great-grandkids.”

“Fifteen hundred miles away. I mean who lives in Mustard Greens, Tennessee?”

“Asks the man living in Blauvelt, Oregon.”

“You know, there’s one thing I’d like to accomplish before I leave,” Cooper muses.

“Not the Clark Carrington case. It’s before my time. The records are so old they’re probably written on stone tablets. It’d be a great legacy if you could solve Carrington’s disappearance, but half a dozen other detectives failed to get anywhere with it.”

“Most of the records relating to the case were destroyed when a flood tore through the old precinct. The only thing left is Pete Thorn’s notebook. He was the last guy who worked on the case eight years before I joined the precinct, and he wasn’t exactly known for being a detailed investigator. It’ll be a challenge.”

“All right, I’m game,” Marco replies. “Let’s get some closure for Carrington and you.”

Cooper pulls their police sedan into Vance Bowen’s Garage.

A Porsche pulls out, speeding off.

“He’s lucky we’re not cops, I’d have to give him a speeding ticket,” Cooper comments.

“That was Sage Stark. He’s one of the richest and most connected guys in town. He used to drive a bus, now he owns the company. He’s been Man of the Year for the Kiwanis, Boys Scouts, and the town board. I don’t know him well, but he seems to be a quiet, private, polite guy.”

“I doubt we’d be tight even if I lived here,” Cooper says.

“There’s a certain sadness about him. Maybe it's because his wife left him. What’s up with Vance Bowen?”

“I’m playing a hunch here,” Cooper admits. “Thorn wrote Bowen’s name in his notebook and underlined it.”

“Maybe he liked the service here,” Marco quips.

A husky, blonde-haired man in his late twenties greets the detectives by the cash register, giving them a welcoming smile.

Taking note of handprints around Vance’s neck, Cooper asks, “Dissatisfied customer?”

“It’s settled.”

“We’ve reopened the Clark Carrington case. The last detective who worked it listed you among his contacts.”

“That’s because I knew Josh Patrick. Josh claimed he and two of his buddies saw someone trying to bury a body the same night Clark Carrington disappeared. His parents didn’t believe him and sent him to bed. The next day, instead of goin’ to school, he marched down to the police station and told them his story. His parents said he had a vivid imagination, even for an eight-year-old, and that he’d been bullied at school for being a nerd. They thought he was seekin’ the attention and approval of his classmates. The police didn’t believe he knew anythin’ because there wasn’t a body where he said he’d seen one.”

“Where is Josh Patrick now?” Marco asks.

“Don’t know. His folks sent him to live with his grandmother that summer, you know, to get him away from all the commotion he’d caused. I never saw him again.”

You said Josh had two friends with him that night. Detective Thorn’s notes only mention Josh and one other person, a kid named Steve,” Cooper says.

“Steve Stark. He was run down by a car two days later. Carrington’s crazy nanny did it.”

“Does that last name sound familiar?” Cooper asks Mario.

“Then Carrington’s wife, Vanessa, overdosed on sedatives a few days after that. Suddenly, solving the disappearance of a man nobody liked kinda dwindled.”

“And the supposed third witness?”

 “Christina Cameron. Josh didn’t want to put her in the spotlight. She had a really crappy home life, but she was a real sweetheart. And pretty, even at eight. She had beautiful, silky red hair and bright blue eyes.”

“Where is she now?” Cooper asks.

Vance kicks at the linoleum with his boot.

“Christina used to show up to school sometimes with bruises on her arms and legs. She said it was from gymnastics, which was bull because none of the other girls had them. A short time after Steve was run down, two maybe three days, Christina was beaten so badly by her father that she lost part of her memory. Too bad it wasn’t the part connected to him. One memory that kept coming back though was what she’d seen that night, and it made her lose her mind. Her Dad, Klute, dumped her in a psych ward and disappeared.”

“And she’s never talked about what she saw?” Cooper asks.

“She doesn’t talk at all. From what I’ve been told, she hasn’t spoken a word in twenty years. My cousin knew Christina pretty well and went to see her a few times. Whenever my cousin mentioned one of the boy’s names, Christina would cover her ears and start rockin’ back and forth. She’d get so anxious she’d have to be sedated.”

Cooper and Marco pause outside of the Sandstone Sanitorium’s lounge, studying Christina through the window in the door.

Christina sits alone, twisting her straggly red hair and staring at the TV.

An attendant notices their concerned expressions.

“Sad case, that one,” the tall Black man says. “Imagine being afraid every day for almost every waking minute and not even feeling safe to dream.”

“Sounds like you really care about Christina.”

“I do. ‘You have not lived today until you have done something for someone who can never repay you.’ That’s a quote from John Bunyan. He wrote ‘The Pilgrim’s Progress.’”

“Does she get many visitors?” Marco asks.

“Vance Bowen comes to see her. She seems comfortable with him. So much so, I swear I saw her speaking to him a couple of times.”

“Funny, he said his cousin visited Christina,” Cooper notes.

“I’m shocked! He lied!” Marco mocks.

“Yeah, Christina’s fine until the other guy shows up,” The attendant continues. “Then she falls back into a deep black hole.”

“Who’s the other visitor?”

“William Smith. Now tell me that’s not a fake name. He doesn’t come around when I’m here because he knows I’ll turn him away. He’s not family and he’s certainly not a friend, The guards started letting him in when he slipped them some money under the table. He’s a pleasant enough-looking guy, tall, with dark hair. He doesn’t stay long, maybe five minutes, but that’s long enough to give her convulsions.”

The detectives introduce themselves to Christina, who nods meekly.

“We’d like to ask you about your friends, Josh Patrick and Steve Stark,” Cooper says. “Maybe you can write down your answers.”

Christina waves her hand as if she’s shooing away a bug.

“A friend of yours told us the three of you may have seen something you shouldn’t have. What was it?”

Christina waves one hand frantically, rubbing her forehead with her other hand as if to relieve the pain.

She rocks violently back and forth in her chair.

Cooper reaches out to calm her down. “Please, Christina, tell us what you saw. It’ll set you free.”

“SKUNK CABBAGE! SKUNK CABBAGE!” Christina screams.

“That was cruel, old school,” Marco says as they get in the car.

“I know.”

Looking in the rear-view mirror, Marco combs his hair. “Poor shattered girl says one thing in twenty years, and she yells about some useless stinking plant. What do you suppose that’s all about?”

“Location, Detective Mazetti. Location.”

Marco crosses himself as they pass a roadside memorial.

A tall man in a suit kneels in front of a white cross, placing a bouquet next to it.

“Isn’t that where Steve Stark was killed?” Cooper asks.

“Yep. And that’s Sage Stark. Thorn’s notes say the nanny claimed she never saw his son. She said he jumped in front of her car. Thorn’s investigation backed her up. She was released and deported to Argentina. Guess that explains how Sage Stark became such a haunted man.”

“But not why he threatened Vance Bowen, or why he visits Christina Cameron and takes pleasure in wrecking her mind.”

Cooper stares at the row of skunk cabbage plants near the Mohansic Stream as a team of officers and forensic investigators search the area.

“I hope I’m right in thinking Christina was giving us a crime scene location.” 

“No bodies in the muck so far,” Marco returns.

“We’ll have to take another pass at Christina,” Cooper says as the car’s phone rings.

Bulah Burnette, the detective’s administrator, sighs heavily on the other end of the phone.

“Did you visit Christina Cameron earlier?”

“Yeah. So far, her information hasn’t been helpful,” Cooper laments.

“Her anxiety worsened after you left. She had a mental breakdown.”

Cooper winks at the photo of his wedding picture above the fireplace.

“We’ll get the thief today, Goldie.”

Looking out of the living room window, Cooper watches the delivery boy hurl the newspaper toward the porch.

Cooper wheezes heavily as he rushes to get to the front door.

A blur passes his line of sight. The newspaper is gone.

Trotting to the side of the house, Cooper sees a blue jay shredding the newspaper. With several strands in its beak, it zips toward the backyard.

Cooper follows the bird, slowing when his lungs betray him. Taking out his inhaler, he sprays the mist into his lungs until he can breathe more easily.

Cooper spots the blue jay flapping its wings in a nest built in one of the maple trees.

Cooper sees the nest is made from pages from his missing newspapers.

A trio of baby blue jays crane their necks, chirping at their mother.

Cooper chuckles. “This is one of your practical jokes, eh, Goldie? You used to say the only thing newspapers were good for was lining the bottom of a bird cage.”

“I solved the mystery of the missing newspapers,” Cooper says proudly as he and Mario review the evidence associated with Carrington’s disappearance. “It was a very protective mama blue jay doing some home improvement.”

“I wish I was as successful tracking down the names in Thorn’s notebook,” Mario returns. “Carrington’s nanny was named Isabella Catalina Castillo. There’s no record that she was ever deported.”

“Probably used a fake name to enter and leave the country.”

“This Clark Carrington was some character. Here’s something,” Mario says, passing a dog-eared page to Cooper. “One thing Thorn did determine was Carrington wasn’t the real estate giant he claimed he was. Sage Stark was suing him. Carrington had swindled Stark out of five hundred thousand bucks in a bogus land development deal. Maybe Steve Stark’s death wasn’t an accident. It was a message.”

“And maybe it’s also possible that Clark Carrington didn’t disappear,” Cooper replies.

The sedan slows, pulling onto the shoulder behind Sage Stark’s Porsche.

“You check his car, Marco, especially the trunk.”

“Are you gonna pull a Kirk on him?”

Cooper looks at Marco as if he’s gone crazy. “What’s a Kirk?”

“C’mon, you’re a Star Trek fan. It’s when Captain Kirk talks a computer into destroying itself.”

Sage Stark turns back to look at Cooper, smirking as the detective approaches his son’s memorial.

“You don’t know me. I’m Detective Cooper Conell. I’m sorry for your loss. I’m also at a loss as to why you killed Clark Carrington. You did so many good things for the people of this town. Why did you throw all of that away?”

Sage winces. “My son’s death left a hole in my life that no amount of money or good deeds could heal. Did you ever love someone so much you felt useless without them?”

“I’m afraid I have.”

“It wasn’t about the money. It was about principles,” Sage says, tearing up as he stares at his son’s memorial. “I had them. Carrington didn’t. I told Carrington he was leaving me no choice but to sue him, that everything would go away if he gave me my money back and apologized. He said he’d bury me in counter suits until I was broke. Back then I was a bus driver barely making forty thousand a year, and I’d had to take out a loan to come up with five hundred thousand dollars. He used my money to rent a big house and take tennis lessons. He made me look like a fool. My wife and child were ashamed of me.”

“You murdered people. You threatened Vance Bowen and Christina Cameron,” Cooper notes. “You’re no different from Carrington.”

“Some people become what they fear the most,” Sage returns.

“How’d it happen?”

“I thought Carrington was alone in his house. Turned out his wife was popping sedatives and chasing them down with vodka in the next room. I gave him one last chance to make amends. He laughed and said I had it coming because I was so stupid. His wife saw me beat Carrington to death with his tennis trophy. She swore she wouldn’t say anything.”

“You believed her?”

“I guess being a con ran in the family. I dumped Carrington in the car. I was going to bury him in a remote part of the woods near the stream. Then those three kids saw me. I had to keep him in the freezer. When my boy was murdered a few days later, I moved Carrington here. It gave me a measure of justice I knew I’d never get in court.”

“So how does the nanny figure in this?”  Cooper asks. “Was Carrington such a good con man he could convince her to kill your son?”

“She didn’t do it. Carrington’s wife, Vanessa, was driving the car. She bolted the scene before you guys got here, and the nanny took the fall. Vanessa Carrington hired a top-notch lawyer who convinced everyone my son was at fault. In the meantime, Ms. Castillo bought a villa in Argentina. I visited Vanessa Carrington to congratulate her on her cunning revenge.”

“Did you kill her?” Cooper asks.

“She was addicted to pills. Let’s just say I helped monitor her last dose. Then I talked with Christina and Klute Cameron. What an ape. He tried to extort me.”

“I’m beginning to think the rumor that Klute Cameron ran off isn’t accurate,” Cooper surmises.

“He was a horrible excuse for a human being,” Sage returns. “I didn’t have a child anymore and he was abusing his.”

Shocked, Cooper asks, “Did you kill him in front of his daughter?”

“I beat him with a belt, the same way he abused her. I thought she’d appreciate it. She didn’t. My belt buckle was pretty big and made a mess of his face. Christina wanted to scream but nothing came out.”

“You made a girl watch you beat her father to death, then you left her on her own while she was having a mental breakdown?”

“I think it was watching his dismemberment that broke her.”

“Jesus. So, where is Klute Cameron?” Cooper asks.

“There’s a pig farm thirty miles up the line. I gave him to the rest of the swine.”

“And left a distraught little girl all alone.”

“I dropped her off at Sandstone Sanitorium.” (villain) says dryly. “I pay her bills.”

“Guess you and I have kibbitzed long enough, Sage. It’s time to go to the station.”

Sage pushes Cooper away, hitting him twice in the jaw with his powerful fists.

Cooper falls on his back as a sharp pain spreads across his chest.

He looks up at Sage, who has taken his gun and is pointing it at his head.

The pain in Cooper’s chest consumes him.

A shot rings out.

Cooper opens his eyes.

Marco, Vance, and Christina are standing by his bed.

“Have a nice nap?” Marco asks.

“Stark?”

“He was about to mess up your retirement, so I had to shoot him. Your heart attack worried us more. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for a week, but you’ve turned the corner. You’re gonna be okay, but you’ll have to retire a few weeks early.”

Cooper looks at Christina. “And you?”

“I’m fine. We’re going to look out for each other,” Christina replies, hugging Vance.

“You make sure you do, Josh Patrick,” Cooper says, winking at Vance.

“How’d you know?” Josh asks.

“You said things that weren’t in any of the reports, and when you spoke about Christina, you lit up the same way I used to whenever I talked about my wife, Goldie. Only someone in love would speak the way did. That, and I found a thirty-year-old request you filed with the state for a name change.”

Marco reaches into a bag on the floor. “I brought you a present, old school,” he says, handing Cooper a newspaper.