A Case For Conners

Chapter 18

Chapter 17: Her New Suitor

"Please," a young blonde boy whispered. "Please don't kill me."

Conners saw his hand pull back the hammer on the gun and pull the trigger, no matter how hard he tried to stop it. He watched, horrified as a hole appeared in the boy's head, and he fell over backwards, already dead. Then, Bill's voice rang in his ears, echoing from the darkness.

"I should've killed you. You son of a b***h!"

Conners sat up in a cold sweat, flailing wildly. It was always this way… He hadn't slept well for what must be weeks. He always saw the damn boy. Logically, he'd accepted that it had been an accident, and of course he'd never do anything like that again. Still, it didn't stop the dreams. No one knew about his nightmares, not even Lawrence, but she knew he was in pain. Several times, he'd considered using Sherry to end his life, but knew he couldn't. It was be a disgrace to Bill and what he'd stood for.

Conners looked over to the urn, sighing deeply. All he could do was try and do good with the time he had left.

He was desperate to put Lawrence and the boy out of his head. So, he decided he'd have to actually do something today. Despite his usual workaholic attitude, he'd taken time off to rest. The caseload was slow… and what was left over was boring work the police could handle easily enough.

There had been little pressure for Conners to do anything in that time. Lawrence had taken to reading her Bible to him for the past month or so. Originally, he thought he'd hate it, but he found that he was enjoying these meetings. There was something about the spiritual stuff coming from her that made it all… slightly enjoyable. It was even understandable to an extent.

Conners still didn't really believe in an existing God, but it was starting to make more sense to him. Sure, the death and depravity of the earth left some holes in it, but overall… he was accepting Christianity as a religion he could respect.

However, as soon as she had left, he'd just lay on his couch, not moving for days. It was in this unwashed, disheveled state he heard his doorbell ring.

"Come in," said Conners.

A well-dressed man walked in, and Conners' mind involuntarily took a snapshot.

The suit the man wore was old, and no longer fit him properly. It was now far too large for him. So, the man was once well off, but had fallen out of work. He was unshaven and greatly disturbed. So, the case was personal. Next, he noted the man's hands. No wedding ring: single. The eyes also caught his attention. They were red, almost bloodshot from lack of sleep.

Interesting.

Many other smaller facts announced themselves, but Conners turned his primary focus to the man's face as he spoke.

"You are Mr. Michael Conners?" asked the man.

"Last time I checked. You are?"

"John Barns," said the man, as he lowered himself into the armchair opposite Conners. "I need your help, detective! My… My brother Lucas… he was found dead this morning. I searched the web and saw you were the detective that put away Kelsey Richards."

"Dead?" asked Conners, ignoring his comment about Richards. "Tell me what happened as best you can remember."

"I was eating breakfast in our kitchen, we live together, when I heard his wife scream. I ran upstairs to find her sobbing over my brother's body."

"I see," said Conners, lighting a cigarette. "What did you do then?"

"I called the police right away. They came out with the doctors and told us he had been strangled in the middle of the night. Then, they asked us questions forever. We didn't hear anyone break into the house last night or anything."

"Doesn't your brother sleep with his wife?"

"Yes, he normally does. But he was up in the middle of the night working. He was legal consultant."

Conners noted the past tense.

Was.

It spoke miles more for the case than the man's story had. Typically, when someone had recently passed away, those close to them used the present tease out of habit… It normally took the five stages of grief before they would start using the past tense.

"I see. Tell me about his wife."

"Martha? Not sure what to tell you. She's a kind woman. They met ages ago, when I was busier with my work than my family. After I lost my job, she came to me and offered their spare bedroom to me, and my brother agreed."

Conners raised an eyebrow, surprised that she offered John the room before his own brother had.

"How long have you been with them?" he asked.

"About two years now," said Barns.

"How often did they argue during that time?"

"Not much… Hardly ever, actually. There was one time when he arrived home late. He was completely wasted. He hit her once. Luckily, I managed drag him out and stop anything worse from happening. I never heard either of them talk about it. Aside from that single fight, I've barely ever heard them even disagree about something."

"Did they say anything during the beating?"

"A lot, but nothing that made sense. He was really drunk, you know?"

Conners was intrigued. Usually, during a fight all of someone's dirty laundry came out. It was rare for a fight to be about something incomprehensible.

"What happened after you dragged him out of the house?"

"We fought for a little while, but he was too drunk to do much."

"I see," said Conners taking a long puff on his cigarette. "I'm guessing he doesn't really have many enemies?"

"None, outside of his clients who went under, but none of them would be capable of something like this. The house was locked last night. None of the doors had been broken in and all were still locked this morning."

Conners slowly sat up and discarded his cigarette before lighting a new one. Barns sat looking at him expectantly.

"So what exactly are you expecting?" asked Conners. "Am I to help settle the affairs, track your killer, or bring him in?"

"Preferably bring him in, however if you can't…"

"I can," said Conners. "I just needed to know what you wanted. Leave your address on the table there and I shall be down later today."

"What do you charge?"

"Assuming I do catch your thief we'll discuss my price at that time. I am lenient if you're struggling with money."

"Thank you, Mr. Conners."

"Detective Conners," he hissed too softly for the man to hear.

Honestly, given the man's poor clothing Conners wasn't planning on charging him anyway. He waited until the man had left the room and slowly stood and stretched, then reached for his phone. He pulled up Lawrence's number and called her.

"Hello sergeant," he said, in his cocky tone. "Are you free this afternoon? I've found this charming little place downtown, full of good food and charitable people… Oh, and murder."

"You had me at hello," she said, taking a jab back at him. "I'll pick you up in twenty. Take a shower, I'm sure you stink."

"How do you know I haven't showered since you were here?"

"Because I installed a camera in your place to satisfy my need to watch you," she said sarcastically.

"Well when you start the 'live nude' site I want 20%."

Conners hung up and quickly showered and dressed himself. Then, he considered what he would need. His cane went with him no matter where he traveled, and was always useful, and the cuffs were needed. He paused at his pistol and knifes. There would hopefully be no danger this time.

True to her word, Lawrence picked him up and he gave her the address.

"So, what are we looking at?"

"Strangulation. A rich legal consultant is found dead in a locked house. No broken windows, no forced entry. Brother and wife live with him, but mostly a peaceful marriage."

"Mostly?"

"One bad fight in the past two years."

"Any theories yet?"

"Four actually, but soon enough I'll dwindle it down; have to talk to the wife first."

Lawrence nodded and drove him the rest of the way in silence. When they arrived at the house, she slowly got out and glanced at Conners.

"You think there's any danger?"

"Always some, but I think this is safer than most."

He led the way into the house and a woman greeted them as they entered.

"You must be Mr. Conners."

"Well if I must be, I suppose I am. Shame though, I was hoping to be Marco Estragus today."

"You'll have to excuse him," Lawrence said. "He's a good one, but there's a lot of smartass mixed in."

"Mrs. Barns," Conners said, growing more serious. "This is my good friend Jessica Lawrence. Your brother-in-law told us what happened, and we'll find out how your husband died. I just need to ask a couple questions, check out the bedrooms and office and then I'll be out of your hair."

"I'll do anything I can to help. I just want to know what happened to my husband."

"Why did he beat you?"

"Conners!" Lawrence scolded, but he ignored her.

"We're waiting, Martha."

"It was only the one time," she said, looking down. "He was very drunk and shouted things at me."

"What kind of things?"

"He said I'd been cheating on him."

"Were you?" asked Lawrence, curiously.

"No!"

Conners saw shame and regret flash across her face.

"Mrs. Barns," said Conners seriously. "If you want to know who killed your husband I need you to be honest."

She was quiet for several seconds before answering.

"It was when we were engaged," she said quietly. "I met an old friend of mine from high school. He took me out for dinner. Afterwards he was talking to me and it just felt so good to have the extra attention."

"And so you had s*x with him," Conners finished.

Tears came to her eyes and she nodded softly.

"Clearly Lucas had great judgment to marry you afterwards," said Lawrence.

"What was his name?" Conners asked.

"I don't see how…"

"A name."

"Harold Jay. But he's long gone. Hasn't been around here for years."

"Thank you," said Conners moving past her up the stairs to the bedrooms.

"How did you know she cheated?" Lawrence asked quietly.

"She twisted her wedding ring as she said no, and her face flashed shame. It's one of the signs of guilt. I'll write you up a list sometime."

The pair of detectives arrived upstairs and saw three doors; each was labeled.

"Extremely neat, isn't she?" Lawrence remarked.

"He," Conners corrected. "Look carefully; it's a man's writing, not a woman's."

The last room was labeled Office and this was the first room Conners went into. Inside was a tangled mess of papers and open files. How the man found anything was beyond Conners. One thing immediately caught their eyes; a word scribbled on one of the type written sheets.

Traitor.

"This was written before the attack," said Lawrence. "It's too neat, too lined up."

"Right..." said Conners, not really listening.

He flattened himself upon the floor and began inching through the room as if he was an extremely bizarre worm. Lawrence didn't say anything, fearing she might accidentally distract him. After several long minutes, Conners stood, nodding to himself.

"I think I've got a couple clues," he said to Lawrence. "For one, our man had his back turned right before the actual attack, but our killer was in the room for a long time before attacking. He knew the killer well."

"How do you…"

"Do you really have to ask?" he sighed. "Note where the greatest amount of papers are on the floor. He fell, but tried to grasp onto the desk, knocking over several papers in the process. He was also enjoying a smoke with the killer beforehand; you can see the cigarette in the ashtray pointed away from the desk. Let's search John's bedroom quickly."

They went to the bedroom and Conners knocked, so he wouldn't interrupt John if he was there. However, the room was deserted. Conners repeated his actions from the office, and then examined the walls carefully.

"This is odd," he said. "John is definitely a masturbator, and a frequent one; stains are all over."

"And suddenly I'm not hungry," said Lawrence.

"However, there are no magazines and he doesn't own a computer. All that's here are the family pictures and a couple books. That doesn't fit. We'll have to go somewhere while I think for a bit."

They both left in complete silence. They arrived at a coffee shop in ten minutes and Conners quickly threw himself in a chair and began emptying his coat pockets. What he was after was a rubix cube and his cigarettes. Lawrence raised an eyebrow at him, ordering them some food. He was sure it would be something he'd never eaten before, but would still like. Lawrence seemed to know his taste buds better than he did.

"I'd have thought you would've solved something like that," she said pointing to the cube. "Haven't you looked up the pattern?"

"Patterns make it too easy. I'm trying to solve it with no patterns at all."

He sat in silence for a long while as she read a book. Often, he started on a new cigarette or played with his lighter. She didn't mind his habits. They were odd, but none were destructive, at least not as much as drinking or illegal drugs were. He sat, twisting and turning the cube every which way until the early evening when suddenly, he dropped the cube and stood, clapping his hand to his forehead.

"Dammit, I'm a moron! Come on, we've got to go back, now! I hope we're not too late."

Lawrence didn't say anything, but drove down the streets as fast as the car would allow. Conners hurriedly pulled the blade out of the cane.

"I didn't know you had that," Lawrence said.

"You wouldn't have let me bring it if you did."

As he said this, they slid into the driveway of the house and Conners sprinted up the stairs. Just in time to tackle John to the ground. The man didn't lie still easily though; he fought and kicked Conners for every inch. Lawrence pulled out her taser gun but couldn't shoot without hitting Conners as well.

Finally, Conners pushed away from the man and held his blade out right as Lawrence shot. The hook buried itself in John's back and shocked him until he fell over. They walked up to him and placed the cuffs on him right as Martha came running out of her room.

"What are you doing?!"

"Your brother-in-law was coming to r**e or kill you," said Conners, still breathing rather heavily.

"What?"

"I wouldn't!" screamed John. "He doesn't know what he's…"

Conners kicked him, cutting him off.

"Don't lie. I just realized what you've been happily jacking off to for the past couple years. There were several wedding pictures in his room and more than one had just Martha in the picture. You killed your brother to f**k his wife!"

"John, is this true?"

He turned away, ashamed.

"However," Conners continued, pointing a finger at her. "He's not after you without any reason, is he? Harold Jay doesn't exist. You slept with John while you and your husband were together."

"How did you…"

"I realized it in the way he spoke about you. Why else would a wife suddenly offer housing to a man before his own brother? You offered the room, not your husband. Why else would he get so violently involved in a fight against his own brother? Well, now instead of a bed, maybe you two can meet in a jail cell. I thought the written word traitor might apply to you cheating on him, but it applied to both of you."

Tears flooded her eyes and she begged Conners.

"I told him it was just once. He's been after me for ages and constantly tried to have his way with me. So, I agreed once and hoped it would be the end of it, but it wasn't enough for him."

Lawrence got on the phone with the local police and soon the brother was hauled off to jail.

"Look at that," said Conners. "Look at people like that Lawrence, and then tell me there's a God."

"People were given free will Conners, they just make horrible choices."

"Maybe people are horrible."

"I like to think I'm not," she said. "And I know you aren't."

"I wish I was a sure of that as you are," he said, thinking of the boy with blonde hair.