Chew On This

The phone on the desk startled Book, as he was half asleep. He usually worked long hours, but this week had been exceptionally long for Book. He had been working on a case gone cold for the last month and a half. He felt like he was so close yet so far, and a passion for this particular case drove him to tireless nights and harder days. Out of the sixteen years, he had been a Detective, no case had this much power over him. No case caught his fancy so much as this case. The gruesome details, the whodunit, the key clues. Book ate, drunk, and slept the Brewster case. Fumbling, he picks up the receiver, “This is Detective Book”, he answered. Between the “yeahs” and the “mhms”, Book took a match out of the matchbox laying on his already cluttered desk, then grabbed a cigarette pack from his drawer. He had quit smoking years ago, but his nerves were shot, and something had to fuel his body from what seemed like endless nights, and even longer days. “I’ll get right on it”, he said as he lit the cigarette dangling from his dry, chapped lips. He placed the receiver down and inhaled a long drag off his smoke. “Damnit!”, he thought to himself. Another victim was found this morning in Chastin, the next town over. This time the girl was tied to a park bench in the middle of town square, throat slit, and her respective number carved into her forehead. Whoever this killer was, he numbered his or her victims, then displayed them for the world to see, like they were some sort of mantelpiece of a hunter who had too much time on their hands. Book snubbed out his cigarette and grabbed his already cold coffee that was sitting next to the ashtray. This Jane Doe would be number four. Something tied these two cases together. Something small, a minuscule detail that had probably been gone over countless times and not even seen. 

Book was on his way out of the office when Davis waved him over. Davis was new to the police force. Only a couple of years under his belt, but he was good. Had already made it to detective work. He was no Book, but he wasn’t bad neither. Davis had recently gone through a tough divorce when his wife found out he was unfaithful. His divorce was finalized a month ago. After his divorce, his mistress left him as well. Double whammy out of nowhere. “Where you headed to this time Mac?”, Davis asked. With a name like Book, a person is sure to have some wordplay thrown at them. Davis was no different. “I’ve got another victim in Chastin.”, he said with a drained look on his face. “Want me to tag along?”, Davis asked. “I’m not doing anything important, and someone needs to keep you awake.” “Sure, if you want.”, he told Davis. They headed to the double doors and was waved on by the nightly security guard. 

When they got to the scene, Book winced at the sight of that poor girl. She looked like she was only in her mid 20’s. Long blonde hair and sea blue eyes. “Just like the last one.”, Book said to Davis. “The unsub only changes a few details here and there depending on the situation.”, he continued. “Like what?”, Davis asked, seemingly interested in the case. “Well, look here,” he said pointing at the park bench. “This isn’t a fixed place the killer tries to display them. With each victim, it depends on the location. This just happened to be a prime location for bragging rights if you will, here in Chastin.”, Davis said with a solemn look on his face. “Last week our victim was dangling by her ankles from the big Elm tree in front of the school. The week before that the unsub dismembered the body of our victim and nailed them to the billboard as your coming in from I 90.”, Book explained. Davis continued studying the victim as Book walked away to talk to the coroner and fellow county officials. Every once in a while, Davis would look back at the victim and see Davis doing some detective work and talking to officials as well. Something was eating at Book. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He brushed it off as just being tired and worried about the case. “I said, the slit on her throat was post mortem.”, the coroner stated. Book snapped out of it and looked at the coroner. “How long after?”, Book asked. “Approximately three hours after the victim died.”, he answered. “The victim didn’t die from a slit throat, and we’ll have to do an autopsy to find out the exact cause of death.”, the coroner added. “That means the unsub killed the victim, and it took them three hours to make a display of her.”, Book said to himself. But why would it take the unsub three hours from the time they killed her, to put her in this spot, he thought to himself.  

 Book signed all the necessary paperwork and gathered any evidence that was bagged then nodded to Davis. Davis gave the Jane Doe the once moreover and walked to Book. During the ride back to the precinct the two discussed the new case. “Looks like the unsub killed the girl, then waited a few hours before slashing her throat. Probably hesitant about something and it scared them.”, Book confided in Davis. “My guess is the unsub is weakening mentally and becoming more and more unstable.”, Book continued. Davis’ posture had changed. Something agitated him. Got under his skin, but what? Davis reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of chewing gum and tossed it into his mouth.  

Once Book and Davis arrived at the precinct, Book got right to work on the new case to add these details to the previous cases. “Hey Mac, I’m not feeling well.”, Davis said. “I think I’m going to take the rest of the night off.”, he said grabbing his coat. “I’ll be back in the morning and we can discuss the case further.” Davis waved to the security guard as he walked out the doors. Book stayed at the precinct for another three hours studying the clues and trying to find out what tied all these slayings together. And what's more, how they were tied to the Brewster case. At least with the Brewster case, it seemed like a cut and dry crime of passion. The victim, Shelly Brewster had been slain while sleeping in her bed. Her throat had been slit. And someone had etched a line in her forehead. Her body left to rot. Rumor has it she had recently filed for divorce from her husband because she had fallen in love with another guy. The husband Patric Brewster didn’t take it that well. He’s never been caught. “Brewster disappears, wife was slain in their bed, not enough evidence to convict the man, yet without the man, we can’t determine if he was the killer.”, Book said as he was looking over his notes. “Something just isn’t making sense.”, he thought. Book started to become restless, standing up from his desk, he grabbed his jacket and went home. 

“Heyo Mac!”, Book heard as he was getting out of his car at the precinct. The voice belonged to Davis. Davis looked like he hadn’t slept all night, and a stench of pine-sol lurked about him. “Davis you look like you haven’t slept in two weeks.”, Book said shooing away the pine cleaner smell. “And what’s with the smell?”, he added. “After leaving last night I threw up all over my car, then all over my living room. I stayed up all night cleaning up what I had for lunch the day before.”, Davis responded. Davis reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of gum. As he was taking the gum out of the wrapper, the wrapper slipped out of his hands and floated to the ground. Davis didn’t give it a second thought. “I’ll pick it up for ya Davis, wouldn’t want you to hurt your back or nothing.”, Book said with sarcasm. Book bent down and picked up the wrapper. Looking at the wrapper brought on a wave of nostalgia for Book. It was Bazooka Joe’s Bubble Gum. “I didn’t think they even made this anymore!”, he said with a smile plastered across his face. “It’s special order. It’s the only kind I like.”, answered Davis. Book tossed the trash into the garbage bin in front of the precinct. “So, Mac, I think I have a lead on this case!”, Davis said with clear enthusiasm. “Word on the street is Pactrick Brewster has been spotted in downtown Layton and has checked into a scummy motel between Chastin and Layton, just off I90.”, Davis explained. “Didn’t you say one of the victims were found chopped to bits and hung on a billboard off I90?”, Davis asked. “Yep, sure enough.”, Book agreed. “What are we waiting for then?”, asked Davis eagerly. “We’re taking my car.”, Book declared. 

The two drove down I90 almost silently. If it hadn’t been for Davis’ lip-smacking of his gum, the ride would have been perfect. Book and Davis arrived at the motel. “I forgot to ask you, where’d you get this lead?”, Book asked Davis. “I um got a call this morning, anonymous, said the man we’ve been looking for in regards to the Brewster case was spotted going in and out of Seaside Motel.”, stammered Davis. “Well, we better get to work then, huh?”, said Book. 

The two walked up to the reception entrance. Book looked over to the lowly looking pothole of a pond on the side of the road winding up to the motel. “Seaside huh?”, Book said with a hint of disgust and sarcasm. “Maybe for the frogs.”, Davis said. Book opened and held the door allowing Davis to enter the building. Both reached for their badges as they walked up to the counter. A lady wearing a tired Hawaiian button-up blouse, and hair the size of a hornet nest, had her nose in some sort of steamy romance novel. Davis cleared his throat audibly loud, in an attempt to get the lady's attention. “Um, excuse me ma’am.”, Book added. “Leave your keys on the counter, if your room is trashed, we have your credit card number.”, the attendant said, not bothering to look up from her book. Book and Davis looked at each other, then back to the lady. “Um, ma’am we’re Detectives Book and Davis from Carrel County over in Pinecrest. We’re here on official police business, so if you wouldn’t mind taking your eyes off of your book for just one second.”, Book said politely. A pair of red cat-eye sunglasses and two piercing ice-blue eyes peered over the book. “I’m sorry fellas, I didn’t realize who you were.”, the lady said. She seemed irritated that her reading session was interrupted. “What can I do ya for?”, she asked snidely. “Ma’am we have reason to believe a suspect in a murder case was seen here recently, and we need to ask you some questions, and possibly get access to a room.”, Detective Book announced. “A murderer in my hotel?” asked the attendant. “This is hardly a motel, let alone a ho--”, Davis was cut short. “Yes ma’am, we have reason to believe that a man by the name of Patrick Brewster has stayed in this motel recently. If you can let us see your logs, that would be extremely helpful.”, Book said. 

The attendant pulled a black binder out from under the counter. “We keep logs as far back as a year. After that we file them under File 13.”, the attendant remarked, handing the binder to Detective Book. “Thank you so much ma’am.”, Book said taking the binder. “Do you mind if we have a seat and go over your logs in a more private area?”, asked Book. “I have a computer area behind here, she said as she pointed behind her. The two went to the computer room to look at the logs.  

A few minutes later, they emerged. “This, this is our guy. We’re gonna need access to that room.”, Book told the attendant. She handed over the master key to the room and the two left. They reached room 1c and Book signaled for Davis to keep quiet. The two waited a few minutes, listening for any kind of sounds in the room. They heard a tv. “On the count of three we go in.”, Book whispered to Davis. Detective Book held up first one finger, then another, then the last, and Davis unlocked the door. They burst through the room. Patric was asleep on the bed. Detective Book and Davis unholstered their guns and aimed them at the suspect. “Patrick Brewster, you’re under arrest for the murder of Shelly Brewster!”, barked Detective Book. Alarmed Patrick woke up and scooted back against the headboard. “What! My wife?”, stammered Patrick. “Ex-wife buddy.”, added Davis. “My wife is dead?”, Patrick asked through teary eyes. “We’re not falling for it asshole. We know you killed her shortly after she filed for divorce from your cheatin’ ass.”, Davis accused. “My wife is dead?”, asked Patrick again in a panicked state. “She was your ex-wife. Was. And you killed her because she filed for divorce. Probably couldn’t handle the fact she caught you cheating on her. And if you couldn’t have her no one could. That about cover it douchebag?”, Davis questioned. “I didn’t kill my wife. I didn’t know anything had even happened to her until just now.”, Patrick pleaded. “Until we can confirm what you’re saying, you’re coming with us to the station. Let’s do this the easy way and no one gets hurt.”, said Book. Detective Book slapped handcuffs on the perpetrator and they walked out of the room. They led him to the back of the car and shut the door. Tears were streaming down his face. “Crocodile tears, I’m sure of it.”, Davis told Book. The two walked back into the lobby and thanked the attendant for her help. They gave her a business card and walked out. 

At the precinct, Detective Book and Davis questioned Patrick about his whereabouts. “I’ve only just come back here after a couple of months. I figured I had been away long enough, she had changed her mind about the divorce. I’ve called her multiple times and she always ignored my calls. I’ve been staying with my brother in Florida for the last two months.”, Patrick stated. “We’re gonna need his number to confirm your alibi.”, Detective Book told him. Patrick gave the men his brother’s number. As Davis called his brother, Book decided to go look back through his evidence, not finding anything of value. “I’m gonna have to go back to the scene of the first murder. The Brewster case. To see what I’m missing.”, he thought walking out of the door. Book told the guard to tell Davis he’d be right back, something came up. 

Detective Book arrived at the boarded-up home of what used to be Patrick and Shelly Brewster. The police tape still intact. Book slid open the door and started looking around. First, he went into the living room, looking for any kind of evidence that would place Patrick there at the time of death. Nothing. He then walked into the bedroom. This was their room. There had to be something here. Detective Book’s cell started chiming. It was Davis. “This is Detective Book.”, Book stated. “Hey, I called Patrick's brother. He said Patrick just left his place a few days ago. Said he’d been staying with him there in Florida for a little over a month. Said he didn’t do nothing but lay on the couch all day whining about his wife leaving him.”, Davis said. “His alibi checks out, but something isn’t adding up. I still think this guy had something to do with it.”, he added. “Hey, where are you anyway. Jim said you had something come up and you left.” Book wasn’t paying attention to what Davis was saying on the phone, he was too busy looking around the room for evidence. “Oh, I’m at the old Brewster house to see if I missed anything.”, he told Davis. “I’ll be back in a bit.”, he confirmed. Detective Book hung up the phone.  

After searching through every room in the house, he was about to walk out of the house when something caught his eye. In the corner of the bookcase. He saw it. He froze dead in his tracks. He heard a car door slam. Walking up the drive was Detective Davis. Book reached for his gun. The door flew open and in walked Davis. “Mac?”, Davis said in a questioning tone. “Mac where are ya? You shouldn’t have come back here”, he yelled. As Davis walked into the bedroom that Shelly had been found in, Book snuck up behind him. “Put your hands up Davis.”, Book said with a stern look on his face, aiming his gun at Davis. “Just put your hands up and we’ll walk out of here the easy way.”, he added. “What are ya talking about Mac?”, Davis said, his voice stuttering with nervousness. “The gigs up Davis. Put your hands up.” Davis reached for his gun. Detective Book pulled the trigger and shot him in the leg. Book rolled him over and cuffed him. “I’m gonna need back up.”, Book called on his walkie. “How did you know it was me Mac?”, Davis said through clenched teeth. 

Detective Book walked over to the bookcase and grabbed something. It was a piece of Bazooka Joe bubble gum. “Here, you forgot this.”, Book told Davis and threw the gum at him.