'Masks' a Short Story by Brie
Masks
By Brie Wells
Sgt. Nishita sat in the downtown Starbucks and surveyed the street. The wall of glass afforded a panoramic view to the upscale part of town; the marble façade of the bank, the waterfall wall of the insurance company, and the valets in maroon jackets hopping in and out of luxury cars under the portico of the hotel. But this morning the hustle was subdued. The body of Kim-Sue Lee, assistant to the Vice President of the First City Bank, had been discovered in a dumpster.
Detective Beavers, holding a double shot latte with foam, joined Nishita choosing the seat that faced the coffee bar and placed his jacket over the back of the chair. Nishita noticed how calm Beavers’ hands were which belied his intense eyes. Sgt. Nishita adjusted his long legs to accommodate Detective Beavers.
“So, what are we doing here?” Nishita asked drumming his fingers on the top of the table.
Beavers took off his hat, “Watching.”
Nishita slumped into his chair. “We just got a case, we’ve got forensics to examine, leads to follow up on, CCTV to view, and we sit here drinking coffee.”
“That we are.” Beavers said and he slowly sipped his perfectly brewed double shot latte and smiled when he tasted the drink.
“I just-just want to do right by that girl.” Nishita felt the lump rise in his throat and forced it back down. He couldn’t get the image of Kim-Sue out of his mind. And of what he imagined he saw when her body was reverently placed in the body bag.
“Kim-Sue Lee. Always say the victims name whenever you speak of them.” Beavers’ dark eyes zeroed in on Nishita. “It shows respect.”
Nishita had heard the rumors about ‘Voodoo’ Beavers and his signature stare. Detective Cooper had told him privately more confessions were given up under it. For the first time, Nishita understood. His skin crawled and he couldn’t sit still. “Kim-Sue Lee,” He said and told himself to take a deep breath. But when he closed his eyes he could see Kim-Sue’s face and heard her say, “He made me say ‘thank you’ when he raped me.” He shook his head, too little sleep he told himself.
As an officer, he’d seen his fair share of dead bodies. Fatal car accidents, gang shootings, suicides, and heart attacks. After eight years on patrol he thought he had seen everything. That he was immune. This was different. He was a detective. It was his responsibility to find the killer. No one should suffer like Kim-Sue, a five foot nothing woman.
Nishita got the call at five-thirty in the morning. Even with only three hours of sleep, he still jumped at the chance to work with Voodoo. The man had an eighty percent closure rate. Detective Cooper had retired a month ago and, Voodoo was looking for a new partner. It was a chance in a lifetime Nishita told himself to watch and learn. But he itched to prove himself. To be selected to work with Voodoo.
In order to calm himself, he went over the facts. Kim-Sue’s body was found in a dumpster behind a bar across from the hotel. The garbage men were making their early morning rounds to pick up trash from the long weekend. One heard something clunk out of the bin, he thought the bar owner was trying to pass off broken chairs from a fight the night before. The older of the two garbage men, Rusty, told Nishita he warned the bar owner, Spitz, that chairs were to be sent to the recycling station. Rusty didn’t take them and if Spitz tried it again his trash would be left. But when Rusty opened up the Hopper cover he saw Kim-Sue and dialed 911. The 911 operator had to get Rusty to slow down because she couldn’t understand him. Rusty vomited while on the phone. Nishita didn’t blame him. He barely kept it together when he saw the body. Kim-Sue’s body, he corrected. Nishita again heard her voice, “Thank you, he made me say it.”
Nishita arrived at the scene before Beavers and gathered as much information as he could from Rusty. Then he turned his attention on Spitz, the owner of the Beer Thirty bar.
A bar owner, one that has a dive like Beer Thirty, has his fingers in more than just liquor. When questioned, Spitz shrugged and said business was slow due to the holiday. Most people leave downtown by Thursday and he is lucky if he sees a few the regulars. Nishita asked him when he closed on Sunday night. Rusty said he closed early around 9 pm. By the time Beavers showed up Nishita determined there was CCTV coverage from the hotel across the street.
Voodoo Beavers smiled slightly. He had been watching Nishita. He began, “Kim-Sue Lee worked at the bank across the street. Kim-Sue would come over here twice a day to get her boss an Americano with cream in the morning and a chia tea latte in the afternoon. Kim-Sue is well known in this coffee shop.”
“True.” Nishita bit his lip.
“You new guys and your science and forensics.” Beavers chuckled his belly and shoulders wiggled as he laughed. “A lot of bells and whistles to convince criminals that you know what you are doing.”
“It puts a lot of people in jail.”
“Yeah, that it do.” Beavers slowly stirred his coffee with the wooden stick and said, ”If you will sit with me a minute we just might get a glimpse of something really frightening.”
“I know you don’t take in partners,” Nishita eased into the conversation he wanted to have with Voodoo.
“No I do not.” Beavers pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. His hands were large and showed signs of hard work, callouses along the ridge where his fingers met his palms. The palms of his hands were lighter than the rest of his skin, which was the softest shade of brown like a tree trunk. The watch fit perfectly within the bowl of his hand. it was silver on a long chain attached to his vest pocket. Then Beavers looked around the active coffee shop and replaced the watch in his vest pocket.
“Why me?” Nishita finally asked.
“I might ask the same of you; why me?” Beavers said.
“You’ve solved more cases than anyone in the department. I wanted to learn from you.”
“Good answer, but not the truth.” Voodoo Beavers held Nishita’s gaze.
Nishita’s mouth dropped, started to say something then shook his head and leaned back in his chair. He looked over the room saw the line of business people, mothers with their strollers and a few construction workers. The people were quite, no one was too impatient. Perhaps due to the murdered victim discovered just down the street. However the line was moving very slowly. Nishita leaned in to Beavers, “Is this place short staffed today?”
“Ah, now he seeing something.”
At that moment a slender young man walked into the coffee shop and slipped into the back room. The people in line seemed to give a collective sigh of relief. Small murmurs waved through the line. Then the young man returned wearing a green apron and began to confidently fill orders of specialized coffee.
One lady, a rather plump brunette, asked, “Was it your mother?”
The young man nodded his head, “Chemo is rough on her.”
The young man handed the Blonde Hazelnut Latte to the woman, She reached for it and he pulled it away and said, “Hey, what do we say?”
“Thank you.” The woman giggled as she took the cup.
Voodoo Beavers looked out the window at the street.
“That’s rough, I guess his mother’s sick.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Beavers mumbled but kept his eyes out the window,
“Looks like he’s been up all night, his face is grey. He’s cheering up a bit though.”
“Is he?” Voodoo Beavers whispered and remained fixed out the window. “We all wear masks. Everyday each of us puts on a mask to cover our pain or confusion. But some wear masks to hide who we are.”
It was as if the world slowed for Nishita. The hair on his arms sent electric sparks up to his armpits. He turned to Voodoo. They connected stares. “She came here everyday, twice. He knew her.” Nishita, in slow motion lowered his gaze to the floor and adjusted his seat to reach in his front pocket. He took out his cell phone and pretended to dial. He managed to swivel his gaze towards the young man.
Voodoo whispered, “Careful now. Just because he’s late to work and has scratches on his face and arms that don’t make him our killer. But it sure puts him in the cross hairs.” Voodoo smiled.
It fell into place after that. Voodoo asked the young man to speak with him. The next thing the boy knew he was going downtown and his fingernails were scraped, his mouth was scrubbed for DNA, and photos were taken of his scratches. Nishita sat back and watched in awe. Voodoo used no force, no tricks, just stared and listened. It made him unpredictable and, very dangerous.
Voodoo Beavers wore no mask. That was his magic. He looked bare faced before people and saw their mask and waited until the mask slipped. Once the mask skipped, it was over. How long it took after that was like playing in a sandbox to Voodoo.
At the trial Nishita finally asked, “How did you know to go to the Starbucks?”
It was the first and only time Nishita saw the big man cry. “The same reason why you wanted to work with me. Intuition. That little itch under your skin. You have to answer it.” Voodoo said. He wiped the tears from his eyes and then leaned in to whisper, “I knew by your face you saw an apparition of Kim-Sue.”
Nishita felt the same electric shot tickle up his forearm to his armpits. They stared at each other.
“I saw her too, you see, Kim-Sue.” Voodoo’s face grew sad. “She told me he made her-“
“-say thank you.” Nishita finished his sentence. Nishita’s throat closed up and sweat began to collect under his arms.
Voodoo smiled. “It will get easier. I promise.”
Brie Wells 7/28/17