Chapter 8
DAY 1
The shop looked fairly empty today. The only noise was the TV playing at a low volume. The cashier seemed too handsome to be working there. I always see him, and he is quite the sight to behold. His features are soft, but the scar on his face makes him look manly. I grabbed what I needed and headed toward this gorgeous specimen.
But I froze when I looked at him. His eyes were… dead. I mean, completely lifeless, with no color or liveliness. I kept staring. A knock on the counter drew me back, and I found him looking at me with an annoyed expression. I paid, whispered an apology, and left the store.
"Why? Was the guy rude?" Russel asked, concerned.
"No, but he makes me feel uneasy. I felt like something bad would happen when I looked at him. He looks like bad news," I said, still glancing in the cashier's direction. The cashier looked toward me as if he could tell I was talking about him. He stared emotionlessly, not even blinking. He suddenly reminded me of clowns. They don't have any expressions; their smiles are fake because faking a smile makes them fit in. He looks exactly like a real clown who has decided not to put on a red smile. That's how I picture him.
The radio snapped my attention when someone spoke. Russel picked it up, but my focus went back to the cashier, who was still staring.
"Murder on the 11th block," Russel said, stepping on the gas.
I shook the feeling off and turned my attention to the task at hand. We arrived at the scene, and Russel got out immediately. I stayed in the car, lost in thought. What kind of aura does he have to change my mood so easily? I want to stop feeling this way, but I couldn't. I started feeling goosebumps, so I began scratching myself a little too hard.
"STACY!!! What's wrong?!!" Russel had opened my door, bent down, and was shaking me. He looked shocked. "You're hurting yourself. Look!!"
I stared at my shaky hands and saw blood on my fingertips.
"Blood," I said softly.
"Yes. Blood. You did this. Stay in the car. We'll talk about this later," he said, handing me a damp cloth to wipe my arms and hands. Then he returned to the scene.
As I cleaned my arms, I noticed the scratches I had made and was surprised. I hadn't felt this way before. How could a simple encounter make me so uneasy that I hurt myself?
"I will be fine. I will be fine," I repeated to myself, finally feeling calm enough to look at my surroundings. It hadn't struck me how crowded the place was packed. I got out of the car and asked the young officers to push the public back to create more space and to stop them from taking pictures. I got closer to the scene, and shock was an understatement.
"What the…."
Blood was everywhere. I mean, everywhere. The victim was lying face down with puncture holes in his back. The victim was murdered here? Here, in the city center? A mall where a lot of people pass by, and the suspect escaped? This had to be a lie. I got closer to my partner, who was talking to the detective.
"This is crazy. It happened this morning at 7 a.m. It's too early for this, you know what I mean? I thought it was a prank call or something. But no, a murder in the flipping morning!!" The detective sounded offended that his morning was ruined.
"So, anything captured?" Russel asked, his hands on his hips.
"Nothing so far. That guy called it in. Poor man, he's new, started working here last week. I'd say it's a great way to onboard him, huh?" The detective said, using his head to direct us to the first witness, who clearly looked scared and shaken.
"Say, why are you in this uniform? I thought I was at your promotion four years ago, or… am I missing something?" he continued, gesturing to our uniforms and looking us up and down.
"Long story," Russel dismissed him. He looked around and noticed the crowd was getting bigger. The crowd maintained a distance from the scene, but shops had started opening because, well, who cares if a man has lost his life? The show must go on.
I looked at the crowd, watching every move because the suspect had to be around here. He couldn't have escaped that easily. The cameras seemed to be working, but nothing had come up so far. The forensic team had started working minutes ago, gathering all the information they could about the suspect. The murder happened in the courtyard of the mall, the center, where shops surrounded it. There was no way he could have gotten away. I went over to the control room; they had been looking at the footage for some time, but nothing had come up.
I greeted them and leaned over to look at the screens, hovering my eyes over the four screens in front of me. I finally understood why it was taking so long to get the footage. The screen was bad, really blurry and traces of smudges showed that they had tried wiping it, but it didn't work. They had to squint and lean in to see the footage. I shot an annoyed look at the security guard, who looked apologetic. I couldn't blame him; it wasn't his fault the mall wasn't providing quality equipment.
Looking back at the screen, I moved my eyes over it, and a black figure flashed in the corner of my eye.
I whipped my head toward the screen and shouted, "STOP! Go back a few seconds on this screen. I saw something."
The officer rewound it, and there it was, a dark figure staring at the screen, smiling. We were taken aback because the time matched the time of the murder, and this man on the screen… We went a few minutes back to the beginning.
---
12 a.m., the night before…
The bar was noisy as usual, and everyone was having a good time. Rock music played in the background as servers moved up and down, taking and bringing people's orders. Football was on, and supporters were repping their teams in total concentration. The bar charged extra on football days because people flocked in, and the workers closed late on those nights. Right outside the bar were passersby who got distracted by the football. Since they didn't want to pay, they looked through the glass windows, so the surroundings were packed as well.
The owner's office was close to the bar area, and his door was always open. He was always seen counting money, with a young guy standing in front of him. The guy looked too thin and lanky for his age.
"Don't get intimidated when they try to scare you. They're harmless big guys. A lot of good people need to drink their stress away. It's a pretty wild night every day, especially tonight. Let's go and get some work done! We don't want to waste the night away!!"
The boss got up from behind his desk, revealing his big stomach, which he had been hiding. He stood at a height that towered over the new hire. He put his buff arms around the young man to reassure him that it wasn't that bad.
Walking out of the office, they entered the main area, which bustled with life. Laughter rang in the air, drunk customers dragged themselves to the counter for more booze, supporters shouted at the TV expressing their disappointment or excitement, and some flirted with the waitresses. Looking around, the boss pushed the young man toward the corner of the bar, which was on their top left.
"That'll be your first customer for the night. Good luck," he said with a grin and returned to his business.
The young man walked steadily to the customer. "Hello, sir. Welcome. Can I get your order?"
The customer had his head bowed and was snickering to himself. He didn't hear what the young server said and was consumed in his own world.
Getting annoyed, the waiter tapped the man on his shoulder to bring him back to reality. The man raised his head, his brow raised as if he had been greatly disturbed. The waiter gestured to his pad, waiting to take his order. The man dragged the menu to his view and started skimming through it.
His eyes brushed through the menu, taking his time. He finally landed on his choice, and the waiter went off to get his order. The customer returned to his world. The waiter returned with his order, a glass of beer and a plate of honey-glazed spicy chicken.
"Say…" the customer stopped the waiter from leaving. "Is it always packed like this?" he asked, gesturing to the busy and noisy bar.
"On football nights, yes," the waiter answered.
"You're new," the man concluded. "It's always busy, no matter the day. Do you know why? They're running away from their problems. Everyone."
The customer pointed to a man by the counter who was drunk and could barely stand. "His wife is pregnant for the seventh time. Guess how old his eldest is, 10!!! I can't believe it. They live in a one-bedroom in a rundown neighborhood on the east side!!!!"
The waiter raised his eyebrows in confusion, wondering how this information dump mattered to him. Glancing around for help, he saw his colleagues snickering and his boss laughing. He realized he had been pushed intentionally to serve this man.
For the love of God, he thought. When will this man stop talking? He felt a tap from the man, who happened to be an old man, signaling him to get closer. He got closer unwillingly, and the old man whispered, "Someone will die tonight. He is here." The man pointed to the corner of the room. Following the man's direction, the waiter saw a man in a black hoodie looking at his boss…
"Don't say I didn't tell you. I followed him here," the old man continued in an eerie voice, which made the waiter uneasy. The waiter looked back in the direction where the hooded man was and saw that he was no longer there. Instead, the hooded man was walking toward his boss.
Frightened, the young waiter screamed, "Watch out!" and ran toward his boss. He grabbed the hooded guy by the collar and pushed him out of the way, making the man topple over.
"What do you think you're doing?!!!" his boss shouted, helping the man off the floor.
Heaving heavily, the waiter realized he had attacked the wrong person. There was no one in a hoodie in the bar. The room became dead silent, with only the TV playing in the background. The waiter was now the center of attention.
"I… I… He… He…" he stammered, pointing to the old man, who was also surprised at what had happened.
"That's enough. I'm so sorry for his behavior. He's new," the boss explained and apologized at the same time.
"It's alright. You've got a strong hold and push there. Oh! Don't worry. Go back to what you're doing," the hooded man said, laughing it off and waving his hands around, assuring the crowd that he was okay.
"I guess the bathrooms are off limits!!" the hooded man joked.
"No, no. You can use it. It's empty," the boss said. The man made his way to the washroom and returned a few minutes later.
The waiter was still shocked at what had happened and was in a daze when the hooded man walked past him. He stopped and smirked at the waiter, then walked on. He stopped again and looked in the direction of the old man for a good few seconds before leaving the bar.
With a sigh of relief, the waiter went to the boss to apologize. He returned to his tasks, shooting side glances at the old man, who couldn't care less.
The night went off smoothly, and now the bar was empty, save for the boss and the employees who were cleaning up. The staff left the bar, leaving the owner in the office, still counting money."
End of Flashback
---
The CCTV only showed up to the hooded man smiling at the camera and walking off.
"That's bizarre. Why come to the camera to smile?" I thought to myself as I walked out of the room. I met up with Russel, who was in the bar looking around for clues or anything.
"Find anything?" he asked. I filled him in on the man smiling at the camera. He shot me a disgusted look and continued to look around.
"That's all you found?" he asked. I nodded and turned around. The bar looked calm and simple, nothing too noteworthy. To think this wasn't a robbery made the whole thing bizarre.
"Did you look at the body?" I asked Russel, but he ignored me.
"Russel. You're ignoring me. Is there something I need to know?" He stood with his back facing me. Anxious, I turned toward the door, my direction leading to where the paramedics were transporting the body to the ambulance. I rushed to them, stopping them to take a look at the body.
Surprised, shocked, and surreal were understatements for what I was feeling. Looking at my feet, I saw another pair of feet appear in front of me. Looking up, I saw Russel giving me a sympathetic look. He pulled me into his arms for a hug. We stood there for a while. The cashier suddenly came to mind, him looking at me with his dead eyes. I shuddered and shook the thought off. Proving futile, the sudden realization that the man in the video looked somewhat similar crossed my mind. Pushing Russel, I rushed to the control room.
I forwarded the video to the end, where I hit pause on the smiling man. I looked at Russel, panting, and waited for his response.
"Who does he look like?" I finally asked. "Look carefully," I urged, pointing to the man on the screen. Scratching his head, Russel looked lost in his memories, trying to recall all the faces he could remember.
"The cashier!! From this morning, down the street!!!" I said, raising my hands in frustration.
"Let's go!!" I headed for the door without waiting for him.
"Stacy! Stacy!!!" Russel shouted, stopping me. Running to me, he pulled me to the side and looked at me, concerned.
"Have you called your sister? Does she know what's happened? The video isn't clear enough to question the guy. Why don't we calm down and take the first step before anything else, like calling your sister?"
I sighed. "I need to have something before I call her."
"I'll call her. Wait here," he said in a tone that clearly meant, "Don't you dare go chasing after a cashier." I nodded, and he moved to the side to make the call.
I looked at the time. It was 10 a.m. The mall had started bustling with people, and the crime scene had been marked, announcing to everyone what had happened. This morning looked calm, and the sun was out, making today's incident seem like an outcast, an imperfect image in an otherwise beautiful and unusually peaceful picture. I turned to where the ambulance was parked and the body… I needed to see my sister. She must be devastated after hearing her husband is dead.
I thought back to when she introduced me to David. He was a buff guy but short in height, bald, with an orange mustache and grey eyes. That was two years ago. They got married three days later, and the rest was history. My niece hated the guy, but I thought he was okay. I mean, he owned his bar, and his income was stable. He was quite funny, which my sister loved.
Russel pointed to the car, suggesting we leave the scene. In the car, my mind started recollecting my sister's dating history. There were two of us, and she was the eldest. She was a successful child actress growing up and was and still is beautiful. She played alongside big names in the industry and even dated a few. But the dynamics of the movie industry started changing, and she couldn't keep up. She was shunned to the side, forgotten. She tried to make a comeback by dating big names and involving herself in scandals with actors and musicians, but they labeled her as crazy, and so she became.
She loved humor and often found herself dating comedians. Her last relationship before meeting David lasted 20 years, during which she gave birth to Jamie. They divorced because he couldn't keep her under control. She loved money and alcohol and was always drunk. So, imagine how I felt when she got involved with David.
I came back to reality, realizing we had arrived at her house. Sighing, I exited the car.