Halloween Stories

I’d just woken up on Saturday morning and was getting ready to fix breakfast when my cell phone rang. 

“Detective Krivyanik, your assistance is required at Tyler Legacy High School to investigate a murder,” the dispatcher advised me.  “The officer on the scene will be waiting for you at the far end of the athletic fields, along the tree line.” 

“Ok, I’ll wash up quickly, get dressed, and head there shortly.”

Damn, it’s still a week until Halloween and already the horror show has begun.  Since the body was found on school property, it made me wonder if the victim might be a faculty or staff member, or possibly even a student.  I wasn’t sure if there had been a home football game the previous evening, but Texas is big on Friday night football, so if there had been a home game then the victim might also be someone from the visiting school.  Either way, I’d soon discover the identity of the deceased individual. 

When I pulled into the parking lot nearest to the designated location, I immediately spotted the yellow crime scene tape stretching from one hastily erected pole to the next.  I also saw the uniformed officer guarding the area, so I walked toward him and made my presence known. 

“I thought I had the day off, but I guess I was wrong.  What do we have here?”

“An anonymous tip came into 9-1-1 and reported a body at this location, so I was dispatched to check it out.  I arrived here about twenty minutes ago and haven’t disturbed anything, although I did check the victim for a pulse and discovered he was deceased.  I’m not sure when it happened, but the body has already begun to cool down, so it appears he must have been killed a few hours prior to my arrival.”

“That’s good police work and I’ll investigate the crime scene further to see if I can find any clues that will shed some light on what happened here.”  I then walked over to the body so I could begin my cursory examination.  “Fuck, it’s just a kid.  It’s bad enough when I have to investigate a murder scene, but it’s even worse when the victim is a minor.  I’d estimate he’s between fourteen and sixteen-years-old.” 

“That would be my guess as well.”

“It appears he has a single stab wound to the chest, and judging by the amount of dried blood on his clothing and body, along with what has soaked into the ground, the penetration must have punctured his heart.”

I knelt down and examined the wound more closely.  “I doubt the murderer used a knife, because the entry wound isn’t long and narrow, as it would be if it was made by the blade of a knife.  I have no idea what type of instrument was used though, since the shape of the wound is unusual.  I’ll have to rely on the coroner to give me an idea about what could have done this.  Did you check to see if he had any ID?”

“No, I felt it would be best to wait and let you do that.”

“Ok, help me roll the body slightly onto its side so I can see if he has a wallet or anything else in the back pockets of his jeans that might identify him.”

The boy wasn’t carrying a wallet, but he did have a student ID.  It was from the Tyler Legacy High School, so he was a local and attended this very school.  I also discovered his name was Scott Mahon and he was a junior before I handed the ID over to the officer so he could place it in an evidence bag. 

“Do you have a cell phone on you?”

“Yes, do you want to borrow it?”

“No, I want you to use it to contact the station, instead of using the radio in your patrol car.  I don’t want any of this information getting out to the public just yet.  Is there an emergency vehicle on the way?”

“Yes, it should arrive here any minute now.”

“Ok, and since this isn’t a life or death situation, they shouldn’t be using their lights and sirens on the way here.  I’ll make sure to tell them the same thing about keeping this under wraps for now, and if anyone inquires as to why any of us were at the school, we’ll just tell them a jogger had a medical issue.  In the meantime, I want you to use your cell phone to contact the station and ask whoever is on duty to see if they can discover the boy’s home address and next of kin.  It should be a fairly easy task, since we already know his name.”

“Ok, I’ll see what I can find out.”

“As soon as you get that information, I’ll go to the house so I can inform his parents about what happened to their son.  I’ll also let them know that I’m not going to stop investigating this case until I arrest the son-of-a-bitch who killed their boy.”

“I’m glad you’re the one who will be notifying his parents, because I can’t imagine what it must be like to have to do that.”

“It’s the worst part of my job, but it’s something I have to do.  While I’m there I’ll also attempt to find out what his home life was like and if his parents know if he had any problems or enemies.”

I then began checking out the area as I looked for signs of a struggle, the weapon used, or anything else that might help.  While I was doing this, I had the distinct feeling that I was being watched.  It was as if I had a sixth-sense and it was telling me that someone was observing my every movement.  It wasn’t the other officer, because he was in his cruiser using his cell phone to contact the station so he could get the information I’d requested, so who could possibly be watching what I was doing? 

Was the murderer hiding in the grove of trees that ran along the edge of the athletic fields and extended in both directions to separate the school grounds from the neighboring properties?  Or could the guy possibly be keeping tabs on me from an elevated location at the nearby park?  That was another possibility, but I didn’t have time to consider it further because I spotted something of interest.  It was a home-made lean-to shelter that neither I nor the officer had spotted previously.  Looking at it more closely now, I noticed the leaves in front of the lean-to were scattered about unnaturally, as if something had recently displaced them. 

I assumed the boy might have made this shelter and possibly been hiding out here for some reason.  There were also drag marks on the ground that made it appear as if something had been moved from the area, although I had no idea what that might have been.  It didn’t appear that the boy’s body had been moved after the attack, so it was obviously something else.  I was just finishing checking out the area when the officer came back to report what he’d discovered. 

“There’s only one family in the city with that last name, so it has to be where he lived with his parents.”  He then told me the address. 

“Ok, I’ll go check it out so I can notify his parents.  If the kid was killed sometime last night or early this morning, his parents might be upset and concerned about why he didn’t come home, although I doubt they would have reported him missing yet.  While I’m doing this, I want you to use your cell phone to take photos of the entire area, including the body before the emergency vehicle gets here.  I also want you to pass along the same message to them that I gave to you about keeping this under wraps.”

“Ok, I’ll take care of that for you.”

I then walked back to get in my car so I could drive over to the boy’s house.  When I arrived, I knocked on the door, and while I was waiting I had the feeling I was being watched again.  I wasn’t sure how this could be possible, since I’d kept glancing in the rearview and side mirrors to make sure no one was following me, yet the feeling persisted.  I stopped thinking about it when a man eventually opened the door. 

“Who the hell are you and what do you want?” he snarled.  I had the feeling that I’d just interrupted something, possibly his sleep. 

“I’m sorry to bother you so early.  I’m Detective Jeremy Krivyanik from the Tyler Police Department and I’d like to know if Scott Mahon lives here and if you are his father?”  

“I’m his father and he used to live here, but he moved out.  What has the faggot done now?” 

“He hasn’t done anything.  I regret to inform you that your son has been murdered.”  The man didn’t show any emotion upon hearing the news.  “What were the circumstances surrounding your son moving out?”

“I caught him messin’ around with another boy and told him I wasn’t gonna have no queer livin’ in my house.  I gave him a choice.  He could either go to one of those camps where they pray away the gay and make him straight, or he could leave and fend for himself.”

“First of all, your son was a minor and you were legally responsible for him until he turned eighteen.   You broke the law when you sent him out to live on his own.”

“I didn’t do that.  It was his choice and he left on his own.  I’d already done all I could to get him to change and the only option I had left was to send him to one of those camps.  When he was younger, I tried to get him to go out for Pop Warner football, but he wanted to take dance lessons instead, so I made a deal with him.  I told him if he joined a team and played a full season of football then I’d pay for him to take dance lessons, but he got injured in a practice before the season even started and was unable to play.  He was such a fuckin’ wimp.” 

“Why?  What happened to him at the practice?”

“One of the bigger kids landed on him during a play and busted his ankle.” 

“That’s a pretty serious injury and would definitely have put him out for the season.”

“That’s because he was such a pussy and not in very good shape.  He never did the kind of things that normal boys do.”

“So, you thought you could change the situation by sending him to one of those abusive conversion therapy camps?”

“They’re not abusive and they would have made a man out of him, if he would have agreed to go.”

“I seriously doubt that, because being gay isn’t a choice.  You’re either gay or you’re not.”

“I don’t buy that liberal bullshit.  He coulda changed, if he wanted to.”

Rather than arguing with the man, I decided to change topics.  “When was the last time you saw Scott?” 

“It must’ve been back in July.  Yeah, I think it was when we all went to the Fourth of July celebration.”

“Ok, so where were you last night and this morning?”

“Why?  Am I under suspicion for his death?”

“It’s just a routine question since you two didn’t get along, so where were you?”

“I was playin’ poker with some of my buddies from work.  We started playin’ at around 9:00 and continued until about 3:00 this mornin’, and then I came home and slept with my wife.”

“Will she verify that?”

“Yeah, of course she will,” and then he called her into the room. 

After I introduced myself, I explained why I was there.  She immediately broke down and began sobbing, so she obviously felt a stronger attachment to her son than her husband did, and after consoling her, I asked a question.

“What time did your husband come to bed last night?”

“I’m not sure.  I didn’t look at the clock when he got into bed, but it was late, and he was still there when I woke up this morning.”  

Since she couldn’t state the exact time he got in, it left the possibility that he could have committed the crime before he arrived home.  I also asked for the names and addresses of the men he’d been playing poker with. 

“You mean you’re gonna question them too?”

“Yes, so I can confirm the amount of time you were together.”

“Yeah, and that will make them think I’m a suspect in my son’s death.”

“Why would they think that?”

“They knew I didn’t get along with the boy before he left and now a cop is questioning them about where I was when he died.  Of course, they’ll be able to put two and two together and realize that you consider me a suspect.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that, because I need to verify your alibi.”

“Yeah, and I suppose it also makes me number one on your list of suspects.”

“Not necessarily, but since there was tension in your relationship with your son, I have to check out your alibi before I can rule you out as a suspect.”

“Right.  Are we done now?”  

“No, not yet.  Mrs. Mahon, do you know if Scott had a problem with anyone in particular or had any enemies?”

“He didn’t have many friends, but I don’t think he had any enemies either.  Some kids didn’t care for him because of the way he acted…”

“You mean because he was a fuckin’ queer,” her husband interrupted.

“But I don’t think they hated him or were his enemies.  They just disliked him.”

“Ok and thank you for that information.”

“Are we finished now?” Mr. Mahon pressed again.

“Yes, at least for the time being.”

As I was leaving their home, I suddenly got the feeling that I was being watched again.  In order to see if I could discretely spot anyone surveilling me, I attempted to nonchalantly examine the exterior of the house and property while also checking out the neighborhood.  I was hoping to see if I could spot anyone showing an unusual amount of interest in what I was doing, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary, so I merely got in my vehicle and drove away. 

After I stopped at the homes of the men that Mr. Mahon had played poker with and spoke with them, they each confirmed his alibi.  He was no longer my primary suspect, but I wouldn’t scratch him off my list either.  In the meantime, I headed over to the station so I could fill out the initial paperwork and do some research.  I wanted to see if Scott had been involved in any crimes, either as the perpetrator or the victim.  Inexplicably, while I was doing this I again had the feeling I was being watched, even though I knew it was impossible.  It seemed this case was affecting me in unusual ways and causing both my imagination and paranoia to work overtime. 

During my research, I failed to discover anything tying the boy to any crimes, either as a participant or a victim, but I did learn that he’d been working weekends at one of the local fast-food chains.  I went there to speak with his manager and fellow co-workers to see if they knew of any problems he might have been having or if anyone had been hassling him. 

“I was wondering where he was, because he missed his shift,” said the weekend manager, “and that’s not like him.  He’s always been very dependable and I’ve never had any problems with Scott.”   

“How long had he worked here and did he have any problems with the other employees or customers?”

“He started working here in mid to late July and did a great job.  He was a hard worker and very friendly, and I never witnessed him having any problems with co-workers or customers.  However, it was easy to tell by the way he carried himself that he was a little light in the loafers.”

“And what do you mean by that?”  I actually understood what he was getting at with the comment, but I pressed him so he’d explain. 

“It’s an expression my grandfather used to use to describe someone who was obviously a homosexual, but as long as he did his job it didn’t matter to me.”

“Thank you for that information.”

After leaving there, I went to speak with the coroner to see if he could offer any insight into the time of death or the instrument that would have been used to kill Scott.  The coroner was just finishing the autopsy when I arrived. 

“This wasn’t what I wanted to be doing today?” he said as soon as he saw me. 

“Me neither, but I’m determined to find out who killed this kid.  Can you tell me the cause of death and the possible weapon used?”

“The method of death was homicide and the cause of death was a stab wound that punctured the right ventricle of his heart and resulted in massive blood loss.  He would have died fairly quickly.”

“I guess that should be considered a blessing.  At least he didn’t suffer for very long.  Do you know the time of death?”

“Judging from his liver temperature and the stage of rigor mortis the body is in, I concluded the time of death was between 10:00 p.m. and 1:00 a.m.”

“Have you determined what type of weapon was used?”

“No, that’s got me baffled.  It wasn’t caused by a typical knife blade, either straight edge or serrated.  The only thing I can tell you is that it left a triangular incision in his chest that continued through the musculature and into his heart.  I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“I haven’t either, because I examined the wound briefly at the crime scene.”

“If you are able to locate the weapon then I can match it up with the wound and tell you if it was used to kill the boy.”

“Then let’s pray that I catch the bastard and he still has the weapon in his possession.”

After finishing up with the coroner, I returned to my apartment since I’d completed everything I could do for now.  I would have to wait until Monday before I could to speak with the principal, teachers, and some of the other students at Scott’s school to see if I could track down a lead.  Currently, I had absolutely nothing to go on that would point me to his killer.  His father’s alibi had checked out, although there was a slight chance he could have committed the crime after the card game ended and before he arrived home.  However, it seemed that any problems between him and his son had ended when Scott left, so I also needed to find out where Scott had been living after he’d moved out. 

One thing I’d discovered, though, was that I could relate to Scott on a personal level.  I was also gay and had grown up in Tyler, Texas, although I’d attended Tyler High School, not Tyler Legacy High School, which had previously been named Robert E. Lee High School.  I’d also been afraid to act on my sexual impulses throughout both middle school and high school, although I got the chance to do a little experimenting when I started taking college courses. 

I’d enrolled to take courses at Tyler Junior College during the summer between my junior and senior years, as well as during the summer after graduating from high school.  I couldn’t take any of the criminal justice classes at that time, but I was able to take the other required courses, such as those in composition, math, history, and science.  By doing this, when I finally enrolled full-time in the fall, I was able to concentrate solely on my chosen field of study. 

A couple of guys hit on me while I was attending TJC and I had some discrete encounters while working on my Associate degree.  After graduating, I was hired by the Tyler Police Department, but that only heightened my desire to learn more about my chosen career.  That’s why I began taking night classes at the University of Texas at Tyler, so I would eventually have a better chance of getting promoted. 

Being a cop meant that I had to be even more careful about hooking up during this time, because I knew it would work against me on the job, possibly even get me fired.  I met a really nice guy while I was working on my bachelor degree and had a very discrete relationship with him until he graduated.  It took me longer to finish up, since I was doing it part-time, but I finally earned my baccalaureate last year.  Shortly after I’d finished my degree, I was promoted to detective and became the youngest detective in the Tyler Police Department. 

After spending a few minutes reminiscing about my past, I began fixing dinner.  I’d just started when I felt the familiar feeling that someone was watching me, but I knew it was impossible.  I lived alone, there was no one else in my apartment, and I wasn’t near any windows, so I wrote it off as another figment of my imagination.  This case was certainly getting to me. 

After I finished eating, I tried watching TV to distract myself from the case, but I couldn’t get the image of the dead boy out of my mind.  It was haunting me and I empathized with what he must have endured before his death.  If being gay in Texas wasn’t bad enough, someone had managed to find a reason to end his life as well, although I hadn’t yet determined what the reason for that was or who had committed the crime.  However, I silently pledged that I wouldn’t stop until I’d solved both issues. 

I took a shower before going to bed that evening, and was just falling asleep when I felt someone crawl into bed with me.  I knew this was impossible, but it scared the crap out of me so I spun in that direction to determine if someone was actually there.  To my complete surprise and utter amazement, the murdered boy was lying on the other side of the bed and appeared to be very much alive.  I quickly closed my eyes and rubbed them with the sides of my fists, and when I opened them again, no one was there.  My mind was definitely playing tricks on me. 

It took a while for me to drift off after my imagined experience, and when I finally made the journey into the land of Nod I dreamed about Scott.  I saw him growing up and having various battles with his father about the way he carried himself and the things he liked to do, both of which had made his father suspect he was probably gay.  I also saw when his dad caught him with the other boy, and although neither one was naked; they were kissing and fondling one another through their clothing.  After the other boy ran off, totally terrified, Scott’s father went ballistic and issued an ultimatum – Scott would either participate in the gay conversion therapy sessions or he was on his own.  When Scott wouldn’t agree with the first stipulation, he knew he had no other option but to move out. 

He waited until his father was at work before he packed some of his clothes in a large duffle bag, and then he grabbed a sleeping bag that he knew was stored in the basement.  Scott remembered that item was there, because his father had purchased two sleeping bags and a tent so he could take Scott camping with some of his buddies from work and their sons.  Scott was only twelve at the time and didn’t enjoy the experience at all, so he refused to do it again the following year. 

After retrieving the sleeping bag, since he knew it would come in handy, he thought about taking the tent as well.  However, he ended up leaving the tent behind because he thought it might draw undue attention to his situation.  He was also worried that someone might damage it while he was at work or in school.  Instead, he would use the computers at school and the public library to do research on how to make a temporary shelter that would blend in with the surroundings. 

In addition to having those dreams, I thought I felt someone cuddling with me throughout the night.  Even though it was a very realistic sensation, I knew it was only my imagination playing a trick on me and didn’t bother to turn and look to see who was there. 

After I woke up the next morning and while I was eating breakfast, I tried to put the dream out of my mind.  I also tried not to think about it or the case as I took a little time to relax afterward, but that was easier said than done.  I even went to a movie, thinking that would help to distract me, but one of the actors reminded me of a slightly older version of Scott.  That got me thinking about how he might have turned out if he hadn’t been murdered. 

When the movie ended, I went back to my apartment and puttered around doing some household chores, and I continued doing that until bedtime.  After I showered, I got into bed, and as I was falling asleep it felt as if someone was cuddling against me again.  Was this really happening or was it merely my imagination running wild?  I didn’t bother to look and brushed it off as a waking dream.

When I awoke the next morning, I got ready for work and headed over to the high school so I could speak with the principal about what I wanted to do.  After listening to my proposal, he hooked me up with one of the guidance counselors, because he felt it would be better if one of them summoned the students I wanted to speak with to their office.  It would also allow the counselor to ensure that I only spoke with the students during their free periods or while they were at lunch. 

Before we started, I told the counselor I only wanted to speak with Scott’s female classmates, because I thought they would be more open to telling me about what had been going on.  I felt the male students would be more reluctant to share this information, since either they or one of their friends might have been involved in some of the incidents.  The counselor thought this was a good idea, so that’s what we did, and he also agreed to hook me up with Scott’s teachers during their free periods before the day ended. 

As I mentioned earlier, we’d intentionally kept word of Scott’s death from getting out, along with any reports of a body being discovered on school grounds.  I’d also attempt to keep the interviews as brief as possible, and if anyone wanted to know why I was asking these questions, I merely told them that Scott had been attacked.  With that in mind, I was trying to find out if they had any relevant information about what might have led up to the incident.

During the interviews, I discovered there was a group of students that had been harassing Scott since his freshman year.  Most of the boys involved were in the same grade as Scott, although a couple of them were a year older, so now I had a list of other potential suspects to investigate.  I knew I wouldn’t have time to do this before the school day ended, so I asked the guidance counselor about these boys to see if he thought they were capable of committing physical violence.  He admitted that some of them had been disciplinary problems, but he didn’t think any of them were capable of doing any serious injury to Scott.  After saying this, however, he also admitted that you could never be sure what a person was capable of until something actually happened. 

Before I left the school after speaking with a couple more of Scott’s teachers, I was introduced to the head night custodian.  He admitted that he knew Scott, but he seemed reluctant to tell me how he knew him. 

“Look, whatever you say will remain just be between the two of us.  I won’t write it down and I won’t tell anyone else what you share with me.”

“Are you sure, because it could cost me my job?”

“I’m positive.  No one else will know what you tell me.”

“Ok, then I’ll tell you what you want to know.  I felt sorry for the kid and tried to help him out.  The first time I met him, I found him in the shower in the boy’s locker room after hours.  He was scared that I was gonna turn him in, but after he told me his story, I would let him into the school after hours and allowed him use the shower.  Once a week I would also let him bring his clothes in so he could use the washer and dryer.  We have those appliances to clean miscellaneous materials that we use, and the nurse sometimes uses them as well.  I did this so he could wash up and have clean clothes for both school and his job.”

“That was very kind of you and I’m sure Scott appreciated what you did for him.  I want you to know that I appreciate it as well, because it must have made a bad situation more bearable for the poor kid.  When was the last time you saw him?”

“It was Friday night around 5:00.  He had a job and wanted to shower prior to his weekend shifts, so he got here before the football team started showing up for the game.  Is he in trouble?”

“No, but someone else will be for what they did to him.”  I realized that I shouldn’t have said this as soon as the words escaped my lips.

The custodian wanted to know what I meant by that comment, but I only explained that I couldn’t say more for now and merely thanked him before leaving the building.  I then headed over to the station so I could see if any of the boys on my list had criminal records before I met up with them the following day.  I would have the guidance counselor call them down to his office, one at a time, so I could interview them about the things that had taken place at school. 

I wouldn’t directly ask them about what had happened on Friday night, because I couldn’t do that without their parents being present.  However, I would ask them why they’d been harassing Scott, seeing the principal had given me permission to investigate the incidents that had happened on campus.  I’d also ask what they’d been doing on Friday night and into the early hours of Saturday, and that way I could rule them out if they gave me a verifiable alibi.   

Before returning to my apartment, I contacted a history professor at the University of Texas at Tyler who had a great deal of knowledge about military and civilian weaponry.  I was hoping he might be able to help me discover the type of weapon used to murder Scott. 

“Professor Liddy, I appreciate that you agreed to speak with me this afternoon.  I’m hoping you can shed some light on the type of weapon that might have been used in a recent crime.  It involved a stabbing victim and the wound was triangular in appearance, unlike what I would have expected to find if the person had been killed with a knife.” 

I then showed him the close-up photo of the wound that the officer had taken with his cell phone. 

“I have an idea about what type of weapon might have done that, but let me grab a book from one of my bookcases so I can show you some examples of it.  It’s a World War I era tri-edge trench knife, but they were later outlawed for use in war by the Geneva Convention.  The weapon would create a wound that was nearly impossible to stem the flow of blood or to suture up afterward, so they were deemed inhumane and forbidden for use in battle.  I’m certain there are still a few around in the hands of collectors or kept as heirlooms by the families of World War I veterans who might have used one.  This photo depicts a U.S. M1917 ‘Knuckle Duster’ trench knife, and these types of knives were only good for stabbing, not slashing.”

“Damn, it has a handle like you might find on an old-time cavalry sabre.”    

“Yes, it was meant to give the user a better grip and protect his hand from someone using a slashing type blade to disarm him.”

He then showed me other photos of similar weapons, some of which were produced by the Germans, but they all inflicted the same type of wound and elicited the same desired results.  I finally understood why Scott had died so quickly. 

After I thanked him for the information, I left his office and headed back to my apartment for the rest of the night.  In addition to going about my usual activities, I thought up questions that I would ask each of the boys who was a person of interest.  I’d attempt to keep the questions from sounding accusatory or becoming contentious, though, but I was hoping that I would soon have a viable suspect.  If not, I was hoping their answers might give me other leads I could follow. 

That night I had another dream about Scott, but this time my mind went over the various scenarios of what he might have been doing after he left home.  I envisioned him staying with friends at first or possibly holding up in an abandoned building, but eventually he wound up sleeping in the lean-to that I’d spotted near where he’d died.  None of the circumstances were ideal, but he seemed to be willing to do whatever it took to avoid going through gay conversion therapy. 

At one point during the night, I thought I felt him snuggling with me again, but this time I began to wonder if it was really my imagination or if his spirit was actually there.  I eventually concluded it was merely my subconscious attempting to offer both of us some solace over what had happened to him, not that it would do Scott any good now. 

When I woke up in the morning, I got ready for work as I usually did, and then I drove to the school.  Once classes started, the guidance counselor called each of the boys down individually and I confronted them about why they’d been harassing Scott.  Each boy seemed shocked that I knew about this, so while I had him off guard and thinking about how much trouble he might be in, I asked him where he’d been on Friday night. 

If the boy asked why I wanted to know this information, I merely explained there had been an incident on school grounds that involved Scott during that time and I wanted to be able to rule them out.  If he pressed for a better explanation, I advised him that I was interviewing a large number of students about this, including all of those who’d had previous run-ins with Scott.  I explained that I wanted to see if they had witnessed anything or knew of something unusual that might have taken place during that time.  I, and my superiors, still didn’t want more information than this to get out to the public. 

To my surprise, the boys were more cooperative than I’d expected, possibly because they knew I already had the goods on what they had done to Scott previously.  Either that or they realized they had nothing to hide, which made me begin to doubt that any of them had been involved in Scott’s death.  I would still check out their alibis, but I was beginning to lose hope that I’d solve this crime quickly. 

Over the next 24 hours I was able to confirm each boy’s alibi, but just like Scott’s father there were small windows of time when any of them might have committed the crime.  That’s because I wasn’t able to account for their movements throughout the entire timeframe when the murder might have taken place.  Unfortunately, this meant I was also no closer to finding Scott’s killer. 

A couple of mornings later, I was lamenting to my co-workers that I was no better off now than when I’d started this investigation.  I was also beginning to lose faith that I’d ever be able to keep my promise of finding Scott’s murderer when my cell phone dinged and let me know I had a text message.  When I looked at it, there was no information about who had sent it, and when I read the message it sent chills up my spine. 

“A homeless man named Freddy stabbed me.”

I read it over several times to make certain I wasn’t seeing things.  It hadn’t said a homeless man named Freddy stabbed Scott or a homeless man named Freddy stabbed him, it said a homeless man named Freddy stabbed me.  That would mean Scott had sent this text, but how could that be?  He was dead and his body was lying in the morgue. 

I was a little shaken as I considered the message.  Had someone else sent the text as a prank or in an attempt to throw me off their trail, or had Scott’s spirit found a way to share this information with me?   Was it possible that he was sensing my frustration and giving me a lead I could actually follow up on?  It was at that moment when I realized what day it was.  It was Halloween – the day when many people claim the veil between the living and the dead is the thinnest, so was this really a message from Scott?  

Since Scott was a teenager when he died, I was fairly certain that he knew how to use a cell phone, but could he do it after death as well?  If so, this was certainly the day when it might happen, but I still wasn’t convinced.  However, it was the only lead I had, so I decided to ask a few of my co-workers if they knew of a homeless man named Freddy.

I started with my supervisor and asked him first. 

“Not off the top of my head, but you’d be better off asking someone who deals directly with the citizens of Tyler.  I’m basically stuck in my office all day long.” 

I went out and found one of the sergeants and asked him next. 

“Yes, you must mean Freddie the Freeloader.”

“Who?”

“That’s the name Lieutenant Reitano gave him when he was still patrolling a beat.  The guy is always hanging out at one of the fast-food places or restaurants so he can ask for handouts or go through their trash.  When he’s not doing that, he spends the rest of his time trying to shake down pedestrians for money.”

“Why doesn’t he just go to the shelter?”

“He can’t do that any longer.  He’s been kicked out of there for refusing to follow the rules.  They warned him multiple times before they did it, but they couldn’t allow him to be there any longer because he was stealing food from the other homeless people after they went through the chow line.  He was also stealing what little property they owned and kept in the common sleeping area, so the staff deemed him incorrigible because he wasn’t about to change.”

“But that’s a strange nickname to give him.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.  Officer Reitano named him after a character from the old Red Skelton TV show.  Skelton was a comedian during the 1950s to the 1970s, and I guess his grandparents had some VHS tapes of The Red Skelton Show that he would watch when he was younger.  He had to explain the nickname to the rest of us as well, but it seemed appropriate and stuck.”

“So where would I find Freddie?”

“Your best bet would be to hang around one of the fast-food places and speak with the manager.  I’m sure they would know Freddie, if not by name then by reputation.”   He then gave me a description of what Freddie looked like.  “If you think he’s a prime suspect, then you might want to follow him around for a while and see where he sleeps at night.  It’s probably the only way you’ll be able to find the weapon he used, if he was actually the one who killed your victim.”

“Thanks, that’s a great idea.”

I went to a few of the fast-food joints and asked the managers if they’d seen Freddie or if he hung out there.  To my surprise, it was the manager of the establishment where Scott had worked who said Freddie hung around there a lot.  It was the first connection I had between Freddie and this case, since Freddie hung out where Scott had been working. 

After getting this information, I decided to purchase something to eat, and then I sat in my car for another hour before Freddy showed up.  His appearance was disheveled, his clothes absolutely filthy, and I quickly surmised that he probably smelled as bad as he looked.  He snuck inside without anyone seeing him and was rummaging through the garbage cans looking for food that had been thrown away.  It was during this time when one of the employees spotted him and went to chase him outside.  Before he left, however, Freddie grabbed the few items he was able to retrieve prior to being spotted, but it obviously wasn’t enough to fill him up. 

I watched as he walked away from that location, and eventually I drove in short bursts as I stayed well behind him to see where he was going next.  To my surprise, he did something I hadn’t expected and headed to a pizza shop next.  I watched as he rummaged through the dumpster located behind the building while searching for damaged or burnt product.  He eventually reappeared with a crumpled box and sat down on the macadam next to the dumpster as he devoured the contents. 

This time there was obviously enough to satisfy his hunger pangs, and after he finished, he walked to a nearby convenience store next.  Although the clerk challenged him when he entered, Freddie flashed a couple of bills so the clerk allowed him to come inside.  Freddie ended up buying a bottle of water, and this made me wonder where he’d gotten the money to do this. 

Once he left the store, I continued making short hops in my car as I followed him until we reached the next location.  I was totally amazed when he entered the park that was just a short distance away from the Tyler Legacy High School athletic fields, where Scott’s lifeless body had been discovered.  Was this the second link between Scott and Freddie?

As I watched, Freddie headed into the copse of trees at the far end of the park.  Slowly, everything began falling into place and it seemed the information in the text message had been correct.  Now, I just had to find the weapon that he’d used to kill Scott.

I waited until Freddie had settled in and wasn’t paying attention to anything else going on in the park, and then I walked to the place where I last saw Freddie so I could confront him.  Before I did this, however, I made sure my gun was loaded, a round was chambered, and it was ready to be used, in case Freddie tried to attack me with the same weapon that he’d used on Scott.  I managed to make my way there without him seeing or hearing me approach, so he was totally surprised when he heard me speak. 

“Hi, Freddie.  You’ve got a cozy little setup here.”  He spun around to face me with a look of total shock on his face.  “I’m Detective Jeremy Krivyanik and I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.” 

“About what?” he sneered, trying to sound unconcerned.

“Did you know a boy named Scott Mahon?  He worked at the fast-food location that I saw you at a little while ago and he had a temporary shelter in the trees along the outer edge of the athletic fields.” 

His expression and attitude suddenly changed and he appeared nervous.  “Don’t think I know him,” he hissed, although I could tell he was lying.

“I’m sure you do.  You probably met him when he was working or you might have seen him as he was walking by here on his way to his lean-to shelter.”

“I might have seen him, but I didn’t know his name.”

“Why don’t you walk over here and step into the light so I can see you better?”

He appeared reluctant to do this, but since he didn’t want to raise my suspicion by refusing, he started to move in my direction.  When he did, his foot caught on the sleeping bag that was spread out on the ground, and when it moved it exposed the handle of an M1917 tri-edge trench knife.  It was exactly the same as the one that Professor Liddy had shown me in his book. 

“Whoa, that looks like a pretty formidable weapon,” I stated.  This caused Freddy to turn so he could see what he’d just done. 

“I have it for protection.  There are wild animals around here and I’m afraid one might attack me.” 

“Or you could use it to attack someone.”

Freddie’s mouth fell open when I said this, and then he suddenly turned and moved toward the weapon.  I immediately pulled my gun and aimed it at him. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.  You won’t be able to win using that knife in a gun fight.”

At that point his muscles tensed, which made me think he might try to run. 

“I wouldn’t try taking off if I were you either.  I’m a pretty good shot and you wouldn’t get very far.  Turn around, face me, and take three steps in my direction.  Then, I want you to get down on your knees and place your hands on your head.” 

Reluctantly, he did as I instructed, and I walked over and handcuffed his arms behind his back without holstering my gun.  As soon as he was secured, I read him his rights, and then I grabbed a latex glove out of my pocket and headed over to collect the knife.  Once I had that, I walked Freddie and the weapon over to my car. 

My assumption about how he smelled had been correct, so I was hesitant to place him in my vehicle.  I knew the odor would linger and I’d smell that disgusting scent for the next few days, but what else could I do?  Once he was in the rear seat, I placed the knife on the floor on the front passenger side of the vehicle before driving him to the station.  Everyone groaned when I brought him inside, because the odor spread rapidly. 

I had a couple of the lower ranking officers book and fingerprint Freddie before placing him in a holding cell, but they decided to take him by the shower first so he could wash up.  They had him place his clothes in a trash bag, but I doubted they would throw them out.  I figured they would have a trusty run them through the washing machine a couple of times before placing them in the dryer, and then someone would pack them up and place them in storage.  In the meantime, they gave Freddie a jail jumpsuit and a pair of inexpensive slip on athletic shoes for the time being, and then they locked him up in the cell.  I waited until all of this had been completed before I asked one of the officers to bring Freddie to an interview room so I could speak with him. 

“Freddie, I’ve checked out your weapon and it matches the wound on Scott’s body.  I also saw some dried blood and fibers near the handle of the knife.  I suspect that when those things are tested, the blood will match Scott’s DNA and the fibers will match the cloth from the shirt he was wearing when he was stabbed.  I’ve also sent an officer back to the park to get the sleeping bag and I bet we’ll find Scott’s DNA on that as well, so this looks like an open and shut case.  It would go a little easier on you if you took this opportunity to tell me your side of the story?”

He appeared to be considering my offer, and after a couple of minutes he eventually spoke.  “I didn’t mean to kill him.  I just wanted him to give me some money.  I saw him cash his check earlier and knew he had some money on him, but he wasn’t willing to give any of it to me.” 

“Why would he give you any of his money, since he was the one who had worked to earn it?” 

“I thought he’d be willin’ to help me out, seein’ we’re both homeless, but he said he barely had enough for him.  I held my knife up to his chest thinking it might convince him to give me a few bucks, but he still wouldn’t do it, and that’s when I spotted the sleeping bag.  I said I’d take that instead, because it was starting to get colder at night and my old bones couldn’t handle the cold as well as he could.  We both reached down for it at the same time, and then we started pulling on it like we was having a tug of war.  I guess I pulled harder than he did cuz he lost his balance and fell forward against the knife.  I didn’t stab him; he just kinda fell on it.”

“And then you thought if would be a good idea if you left him there to die?”

“No!  I pulled the knife outta his chest and tried to use his shirt to stop the bleeding, but nothin’ worked.  Before long, he wasn’t movin’ or breathin’ no more so I got scared.” 

“What did you do after that?”

“I took the money out of his pocket, because he didn’t need it no more, and then I took the sleepin’ bag too and went back to where I was staying.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about being cold or hungry any longer, because you’ll be a guest of the state and spending the rest of your miserable life in a prison cell.”

“But it was an accident.”

“Maybe so, but you went there with a weapon to rob him...”

“No, I just wanted him to give me some money,” he said, cutting me off.

“I doubt that will make much difference to a jury when they hear what happened to Scott.  By the way, where did you get that knife from?”

“It was my great-great-grandfather’s knife.  He used it when he fought in World War I and it was given to the oldest male in each generation after he died.  It was all I had left from my family.”

“Well, you’re going to lose that now too.”

Seeing I had the information I needed, I asked the officer to take Freddie back to his cell.  As they were walking away, I quietly celebrated the fact that I had Scott’s murderer in custody and his confession on video, but there really wasn’t anything to rejoice about.  The boy was still dead, but at least I’d fulfilled my pledge to continue the investigation until I’d arrested the person responsible for his death.  I thought it ironic that Scott’s killer was sitting in a jail cell on Halloween night, the same day that Scott had managed to text me with Freddie’s name.

Later, after I arrived at my apartment and crawled into bed, I again experienced the sensation that someone was cuddling with me.  If it was truly Scott’s spirit, he might merely be trying to show me his appreciation for solving the case, but I was mentally and physically exhausted and didn’t think about it for very long. 

Freddie was arraigned the following morning and represented by a Public Defender.  Even though he didn’t have much to bargain with, the lawyer attempted to make a deal with the District Attorney.  Since the proverbial deck was stacked against him, the lawyer was able to scare Freddie into taking the deal by telling him a jury would most likely find him guilty of murder and sentence him to death by lethal injection.  By doing this, he was able to get Freddie to agree to spend the next 30 years in prison for criminally negligent homicide, but at least he’d get to live out the rest of his pathetic life.  It would probably still amount to a death sentence for Freddie, but while he was alive, he’d have a warm place to stay and plenty to eat, which was better than the alternative.

When I contacted Scott’s mother in order to find out when the funeral was going to be held, because I wanted to attend, she told me her husband wasn’t planning on claiming the body.  He told her they didn’t have enough money to bury the faggot, a comment that hurt her deeply, and even though she objected, there was nothing she could do about it. 

After thinking about it briefly, I told her I would take up a collection to cover Scott’s funeral expenses instead, and she asked if I’d let her know when it was going to be held, because she wanted to attend.  I told her I’d be happy to do that for her, and then I took up a collection from my fellow police officers and the faculty and staff at Scott’s school to cover the expenses.  I still came up short and had to chip in $1,500.00 of my own money, but I was more than willing to do it for the poor kid. 

I arranged for the funeral to be held the following weekend, and some of those who’d donated also attended the service, along with Scott’s mother and me.  She thanked me for doing this for her son and said her husband didn’t know she was here, but she didn’t feel he’d mind, as long as he didn’t have to pay for anything.  I was hoping that if Scott’s spirit was still hanging around that this would allow him to move on, now that justice had been served and his body had been laid to rest.  I felt really good as I headed back to the apartment.

I didn’t think of Scott for the rest of the day.  I kept busy and got a lot accomplished, so I was quite tired when bedtime rolled around.  After I showered, I was drying off when my cell phone dinged, letting me know I had a message.

‘Thank you for everything,’ was all it said, and once again there was no indication of who had sent it, but this time I had no doubt it was Scott.

I climbed into bed and got comfortable, and then a few minutes later I was surprised to feel someone cuddling up against me again.  After considering why he might still be here, if this was indeed Scott’s spirit, I felt he might be showing his appreciation once more, but this time for the funeral.  I hoped he would finally be able to move on now.

That didn’t happen, though, and Scott continued sharing my bed every night while I was living in Tyler.  However, I eventually decided to apply to various police departments in gay friendlier communities so I could finally come out.  I wanted to find a lover and spend the rest of my life living happily with him, something I didn’t feel I could do while I was still living in Texas. 

Before that happened, however, I was notified by Freddie’s lawyer that his client was having a rough time in prison and had already been beaten up several times for having killed a kid.  The lawyer wanted to know if I could get Freddie moved out of the general population and placed in solitary confinement, where he’d be safer. 

“I have nothing to do with that, so you’ll have to contact the prison and ask the warden to make those arrangements for him.  To be honest, I really don’t care what the other prisoners do to Freddie – he made his bed and now he has to lie in it.  I’m not going to lose sleep over it, because Freddie shouldn’t have tried to rob Scott and then ended up killing him in the process.  Since that’s what he did, he deserves whatever happens to him in prison.”  I never heard from Freddie’s lawyer again.

Eventually, I got a job in San Diego and moved there to enjoy a better life.  I was relieved that Scott didn’t move with me and hoped he was able to move on to a better existence as well.  I prayed that he wasn’t still hanging around my old apartment and cuddling with the new tenant, because I’m sure that person wouldn’t understand what was going on or realize that Scott was a friendly ghost. 

I never went back to see if that was the case, though, because shortly after I moved to San Diego, I met a great guy and we eventually moved in together.  A year later we got married and life couldn’t be better, but I still think of Scott from time to time, especially during Halloween, and probably always will.

 

THE END