Dead Snakes
by Sophia Nyunt
Sophia Nyunt has spent most of her life traveling, moving from South Korea to Washington State. She turned to books at a young age and loves writing while cuddling with her cats.
Loud, grainy gravel crunched under his feet as he stepped out of the taxi. He wasn’t on the clock, but his boss didn’t need to know that. In fact, no one needed to know what he was up to—not when it could potentially end his life. David Perez had been asked specifically by the brass not to go poking around where he didn't belong, not after his last case. But that wasn’t who David was, and while he hated himself for what he’d done, he couldn’t sit back when people were being killed. He gave the taxi driver a crisp fiver and closed the door. The tail of his coat flapped behind him as the car drove away, and for a moment, he regretted coming here at all. It was just a hunch—the voices in the back of his mind warning him that something about this case was wrong, and before he knew it, he’d become obsessed. Sleepless nights turn into weeks without anything in his system but coffee, nicotine, and hard shots of Cruzan.
David pulled out a cigarette, listening to the satisfying click of the lighter. He put it in his mouth and inhaled, taking in the obnoxious neon lights that encompassed the diner in front of him. They stood out even more in the dark evening sky. Peggy’s Diner, the bright words said, and above it stood a large neon sign of a blonde woman holding a pie. David took a few more puffs of his cigarette, tossing it to the ground and stepping on it before he entered the popular diner. Unusually so, it seemed that what he’d read from the case files had something to do with Peggy’s. He wasn’t sure what connection this place had with the killer, but he was going to find out. Even if it was the last thing he did.
A bell above the door chimed when he walked in, as if it were alarming everyone that he was here. David had lost some respect from the townsfolk after his mistake so many years ago. He tried not to let it bother him—he ignored the whispers and glances from around the room. He’d paid his dues for what he did.
“Good evening, Detective!” A chipper voice exclaimed from behind him. David turned around and faced a particularly beautiful waitress.
“Ah, good evening, Miss…” His eyes glanced at the name tag on her chest. “Peggy.”
So. She must be the owner of this diner, he thought. His presumption proved correct when he studied her: blonde hair styled in tight, curled coils sitting at her shoulders, and light blue eyes. The woman on the neon sign outside.
“Is it alright if I ask you a few questions?” David asked, pulling a small notepad and pen from his inner coat pocket.
“Ask away, Detective.”
He paused. “I never told you I was a detective.”
“You didn’t have to, darling,” she said with a smile.
“Would I be correct in assuming that you own this diner?”
“You would be,” the waitress replied.
“Have you seen anyone acting unusual recently?”
“It isn’t every day that we get strangers, sir. I’ve worked here for many years, and I can tell you with full confidence that I’ve recognized every friendly face in town. Now, I don’t know if he was up to anything incriminating, but the way he held himself…” Peggy stopped for a moment. “He ordered almost everything on my menu and left before I could serve it.”
David scratched his eyebrow. Now, this was interesting.
“One final thing, Miss. Would you be willing to describe his characteristics to me?”
Peggy thought for a moment before nodding and giving David a description of the man. Tall, ghastly pale—as if he’d come back from the war as a ghost, wearing a navy-blue uniform with the words “Joe’s Mechanical.” But it was her final description that gave him goosebumps. She compared the man’s shoes to cowboy boots, except they had steel heels. The memories of the crime scene came flooding back to him. The bloody wall. The caved-in skull and broken nose. Somehow, they were all connected to the quiet people in this town, and yet not a word from their mouths led him in the right direction.
“Thank you for your help,” he said, shoving the notepad back in his coat.
“Oh, and Mr. Perez?” Peggy turned around. “Be careful of those you trust the most.”
“What-” David started, watching as the waitress moved on to help another guest.
He shook it off, deeming her a suspicious woman, and walked out into the rain. It only occurred to him after he’d left that she’d known his name.
When David arrived home, he immediately knew someone else had been inside. They’d covered their tracks well, no doubt, but it was the way his closet was left partially open when he specifically shut it before he left. His hand traced over to his shoulder holster and his small pistol, but a loud knock came from the front door. He let it go and turned around, greeting an unusual guest.
“Hello, Perez,” his boss said.
“Lieutenant Lancaster, how can I help you?” David asked, noting the swiftness with which his boss had ended up at his doorstep. Lancaster eyed his open closet.
“May I come inside? We have… some urgent matters to discuss.”
He didn’t want to say yes. Everything about this meeting struck him as odd, especially the waitress’s last words to him—but what choice did he have? Lancaster was top brass back at the precinct. If word got out that he declined an invitation inside, they’d surely know he was hiding something.
“Of course, sir.” David responded.
The lieutenant kept his hands in his pockets as he made his way inside. His heavy shoes clipped against the hollow wooden floor. David thought it was interesting—he’d never seen those shoes until now. They reminded him of the description of the man's shoes at the diner…
“Say, Lieutenant, where’d you get those shoes?”
Lancaster stopped in front of the closet—in front of the evidence board he’d taped to the wall.
“You’re a smart man, Perez. I don’t give you enough credit.”
David said nothing.
“But when I told you to stay away from this case,” Lancaster said, opening the closet, “you really should’ve listened.”
“But sir, you don’t understand—there’s more going on than we all realized. Just give me more time, and I’ll bust the case-”
“Drop it.”
David felt the all-consuming rage coursing through his veins. Lancaster didn’t understand. More people were going to die if he didn’t do anything. He had very few leads, just a pair of steel-heeled boots, and was no closer to naming, let alone catching, a suspect.
“Yes, sir.” David lied through his teeth.
“And get rid of this. You don’t need to spend all of your time on worthless cases. Go out! Have some fun!”
“Worthless cases? Sir, people are dying here! We have no leads—nothing to tell the families!”
The lieutenant took a deep breath. He rotated the gold ring on his left hand, the roman numerals on the side glinting in the orange light of the room. David knew he was walking a fine line, yelling at the lieutenant, but if he could just get his approval, finding the man in the diner—and the murderer—would be easier.
“Just give me 48 hours. I spoke to the waitress at Peggy’s. She mentioned a strange man wearing…” His eyes drifted down to Lancaster’s shoes, the unmistakable metal heel and buckle: “Boots with a steel heel.”
David ignored the feeling that the lieutenant had something to do with it. Coincidences were rare, but they did happen. There was no rhyme or reason for Lancaster to do anything like this.
“I’ll give you a day,” Lancaster said. “And when you come up empty-handed, I expect you to follow my damn orders. We can’t have a repeat of last time, David. If you send another innocent person to jail, I’ll have your badge.”
David had twenty-four hours to prove that the stranger at the cafe was a suspect, and he didn’t have a clue as to where he should start. After the lieutenant left his apartment, David studied his evidence board and noticed something missing. He just couldn’t remember for the life of him what it was. His head was pulsing with a headache, and he had a feeling he would lose his job if he didn’t have concrete evidence by tomorrow evening. The rest of the hunt would continue at dawn.
The next morning was every bit as gray and wet as the night before. Thunder clouds moved at an alarming speed, the air was moist, and David cursed as he re-lit his cigarette for the third time. He stood outside of Joe’s Mechanical, hoping to get some answers. He entered the shop and stopped at the counter, holding out his badge and asking for the manager.
“How can I help you, Detective?” A short, stubby man asked.
“I’m looking for someone. I believe he works for you. Mid-twenties, pale, short brown hair, brown eyes. Anything come to mind?”
“You’re looking for Gil? Damn. What’s that kid gotten himself into this time?”
David raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“Look, detective. I took Gil in when he was just a kid—he’s had a hard life. Whatever he’s done… Just go easy on him.”
“Even when he’s a potential suspect for murder?”
The man’s eyes widened, pure shock draining all color from his face.
“No—Gil wouldn’t do something like that. H-he’s a good kid. Just a bit stubborn is all…” He trailed off, and David wondered if he really had the right person.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that? Address. Now.”
He hesitated, but eventually gave David Gil’s address. A small apartment in a rough part of town. He entered the dark building, the rustic screen door slamming loudly behind him. He flinched and shook his head. Gil’s room was on the fifth floor, but one look at the elevator had David taking the stairs. When he finally reached the fifth, the electricity shuddered and powered off. A small voice in his head asked if it might’ve been something other than the rain. David took out his flashlight and walked down the hall until he reached room 504. He knocked three times, putting his ear to the door and listening closely. Nothing.
“Gilbert Sanders?” he yelled. “Police! Open up!”
Still no answer. David contemplated leaving, walking away from the door and from this case. Somewhere inside of him, he felt the need to correct the wrong he’d done all those years ago. The false accusation, prison time, and then death. He’d put an innocent person in prison, and they would never get out. It never left him; it lingered like a pungent odor, following him everywhere he went. He knew solving this case wouldn’t ease the storm in his chest; it wouldn’t bring back the person who had been convicted on his testimony, and it certainly wouldn’t make him a better person. But it was a start. David knocked once more before jamming his shoulder into the crease of the door.
The smell was the first thing that hit him: sour, metallic blood. David grabbed his gun and held it in front of him as he inspected the apartment in slow, cautious steps. He checked the kitchen first, turning on his flashlight. Streaks of red colored the walls. They were handprints, he realized, but it wasn’t until he reached the bathroom that he found the source of the blood.
It was Gil.
He lay dead in the middle of the floor, face down, the knife still sticking from his back. David put two fingers down on his neck and checked his pulse. The blood was fresh. Someone had been here recently. Might still be here. He fumbled with his pockets, shoved the gun into its holster, and ran to the telephone on the wall. He listened for the dial tone and then pressed zero with trembling hands.
“Operator,” he said, “give me the 12th Precinct.” Before he could say anything else, he heard the floor groan under a heavy weight.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
David whirled around at the familiar voice, but when he saw who it was, everything clicked into place. The silhouette of a tall man stepped into the light.
“Lancaster? I-I don’t understand. Why? Why would you do this?” He backed away from the lieutenant, his fingers itching to grab his gun.
“I have my reasons, Perez. I’m sure you already know that. But you got too close. Yet again, another innocent person has died, and you’re the reason why.”
David’s jaw twitched. Lancaster wasn’t completely wrong. Gil was dead because he led the murderer right to him.
“It was you,” he breathed. “You broke into my apartment last night. You stole evidence.”
“Very good, Perez. But do you remember what I took?”
David did, he realized. Lancaster’s golden ring. He’d found it at the crime scene, under the bed. How had he forgotten? He saw it on his finger just last night.
“Why?” He asked once again. “Gil didn’t do anything. You killed him just to get back at me.”
“Gil was an idiot. He wouldn’t have made it in the world any longer. Ask his boss. After the first body was discovered, I realized I had made a mistake. Not hiding it well enough. And then you went against my orders, showing up everywhere and asking all these questions. You just had to get involved, didn’t you?”
“You’ve been following me,” David said out loud.
“I’m afraid so, Perez,” Lancaster pulled out his pistol. “And now I have no choice but to end your life as well.”
“You won’t get away with this,” David said, his eyes falling to Gil’s body on the floor. “Sooner or later, someone is going to find out what you did. It didn’t take long for me to figure it out.”
“Here’s where you’re wrong, Perez. The whole town knows you can’t be trusted. Hell, you put an innocent mother in prison, and look how that turned out. Who are they going to believe? The boy who cried wolf? Or the man who risked his life to take down the monster?”
David gritted his teeth. He knew Lancaster was right—there wasn’t a single person who could vouch for him. But out of the corner of his eyes, he saw something move. Something bloody and presumed dead. Gil was alive. David watched in disbelief as Sanders arched his back, hands grasping at the bloody knife in his back, clutching it and thrusting it into Lancaster’s calf. He screamed, falling down and holding his leg, before fumbling with the gun in his hands.
“Don’t move an inch,” David spat, pushing his own pistol into Lancaster’s chest. He signaled for Gil to get out, and he complied the best he could, but he couldn’t stand up for more than a minute before falling down. He would need help, and soon.
“Send an ambulance,” he said loudly. “There’s a man badly wounded here.”
Lancaster looked up from his bleeding leg. “Have you cracked, Perez? What are you talking about?”
David’s eyes fell on the phone receiver that sat just beyond them, on the floor of the apartment.
“Who are they going to believe?”
Lancaster’s eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the sound of sirens flooded into the apartment.
David Perez went back to the station that night feeling accomplished, but there was still something lurking behind his better judgment. He knew this wasn’t over. Even with Lancaster behind bars. Someone was still out there watching him, and David wasn’t going to stop until he caught them.
END
