Excerpt from The Bottle Ghosts:
Excerpt from The Bottle Ghosts:
I was just leaving the side door of the house when a
squad car pulled up into the driveway and two officers got out and approached
me.
"Mr. Hardesty?" the one from the passenger's side asked.
"Yes," I said. "Thanks for coming."
Now that was a lame remark! I thought.
I walked them to the back of the house and into the back
yard.
"I sure as hell hope that you guys are going to think
I'm a nut, and this turns out to be a real false alarm, but…" I pointed
to the shovel "…I've got a really bad feeling about this whole thing."
The two officers looked at the shovel, looked around
the yard, then looked at me. It was very evident that they agreed with my
assessment: I was a nut, and this was a false alarm.
"We got a call from Captain Offermann on the way over,"
they said. "He's sending a couple detectives to check this out. They should
be here shortly."
"I appreciate it, officers."
They introduced themselves, reaffirming what I'd already
read on their name patches over their shirt pockets: Officer Sleight and
Officer Kuklenski. While Sleight stood and made idle conversation, Kuklenski
took out his flashlight—though it was broad daylight—and took a
walk around the house, looking for whatever it is police officers look for
under similar circumstances.
We walked back up the driveway toward the front of the
house just as another car—a grey four-door unmarked sedan—pulled
up in front of the house.
I recognized the two men the minute they got out of the
car, and thought: Oh, shit!
Plainclothes detectives Carpenter and Couch, who had
a magic knack of showing up on every case I've ever been on where the presence
of plainclothes detectives was required. God, with a police force as large
as ours, you'd think they could send someone else! But then I realized they
weren't just plainclothes detectives: they were plainclothes homicide detectives.
They weren't bad guys, but the very first time I'd run
into them, I'd managed to piss Detective Couch off royally, and he'd never
really gotten over it. Plus the fact that when it came to gays, he could
be a real jackass. I could see from the look on Couch's face as he recognized
me that things hadn't changed much.
Detective Carpenter, the taller and more open minded
of the two, came up to me first, extending his hand. "Dick," he said, by
way of greeting.
Ah, Hardesty, my mind sighed; you're on a
first-name basis with homicide detectives, now! Whatever's going to become
of you?
"Detective," I said in reply, mainly because I had never
heard his first name.
Couch largely ignored me and went directly to the two
uniformed officers, and the three of them stepped aside and huddled in
lowered-voice conversation.
"So tell me why we're here," Carpenter said, and I did.
Couch came over while I was explaining the situation
to Carpenter: the two uniformed officers stayed where they were. I walked
the two detectives, as I had the two officers, to the back yard and to the
freshly dug plot with the spade.
When I'd finished, Couch shook his head and said: "Sounds
like pretty damned flimsy evidence to me."
Both Carpenter and I ignored him. Carpenter suddenly
walked to the garage, went in, and came back out a moment later with another
spade. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he picked up the first spade
by the shaft and set it carefully aside. Then he stepped toward the plot
of ground with the second shovel.
"What're you doing?" Couch asked. "We don't have permission
to dig up other people's yards."
"Yeah," Carpenter said, "Like anyone will object." And
he began to dig.
I went into the garage and found what looked like an
old coal shovel and returned to join Carpenter.
We dug in silence for a few minutes, while Couch stood
by with his arms folded, watching us.
Suddenly, Carpenter put his foot on the edge of the spade,
stepped down, and stopped before it had gone all the way in. "Uh, oh," he
said. He turned to me. "Give your shovel to Detective Couch, Dick, and go
take a little walk."
Oh, Jeezus! I thought, and quickly handed my shovel
to a startled-looking Detective Couch.
I walked toward the two uniformed officers, who were
suddenly looking attentively toward the detectives. As I reached them, they
said: "Excuse us a minute" and moved toward the garage.
I didn't even look back; I just walked to the front of
the house and sat down on the front porch steps.
A few minutes later, one of the uniformed officers came
rapidly up to the patrol car and leaned through the open window for the unit's
microphone. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I could guess. He replaced
the microphone and went back down the driveway.
Another few minutes, and Carpenter came up to me. "Uh,
if you feel up to it, do you think you could come back and…see if you
recognize the, uh, person we found?"
"Sure," I said, getting up from the steps.
Calm down, my mind voice soothed. You've seen
dead bodies before.
Yeah, I replied, but that sure as hell doesn't
mean I liked it.
The body on the grass was definitely a male, barefoot,
wearing jeans and a tee shirt. It was obvious he hadn't been in the ground
very long. Carpenter was kneeling over him as I approached, blocking the
guy's face. I took a really deep breath as Carpenter looked up at me, then
rose to his feet. I forced my eyes up the guy's body from his bare feet to
his waist to his chest to his neck, to…
I'd never seen the guy before in my life.