When It Happens

When it happens, you don’t know it has. Some of us get lucky; we don’t see it coming. The rest of us know it’s coming, but can’t stop it. After it happens, it lasts a long time. I was lucky. I didn’t know it would happen. I had no time to worry about it. I was also different from everybody else. I knew it had happened.

The sentence was handed down: 20 years with no early parole. The judge said, “Court dismissed”, and the sound of the gavel made it final. The high-profile case involved the murder of a pimp who was beating on a girl Albert Armstrong was seeing. The bruises on her got to Albert, so he took care of things. His brother, Calvin, was a suspected accomplice but walked due to lack of evidence. As the trial went on, the Armstrong brothers, along with the arresting police officers, Paul Hardeen and Lou Mathews, were pictured in the news almost daily. The detectives were hailed as heroes cleaning up the city.

Being the president of the local construction workers’ union, Albert was well-known as a tough negotiator and strong union leader. The union members were none too happy their man was in jail. The Armstrong brothers stayed firm, claiming their innocence while accusing the police of setting them up just to close the case. The press printed every word.

As Albert Armstrong was ushered away, his brother. Calvin, yelled at the detectives.

“I’ll get you! You’ll die quickly. You won’t see it coming!”

Detectives Paul Hardeen and Louise Mathews had heard these threats many times before; it was part of the job. As homicide investigators, they’d arrested many brutal murderers, and there was always a friend, relative or partner in crime that threatened revenge. In her usual style, Lou responded to Armstrong’s threat,

“Bring it on, tough guy!”

Paul wished she’d keep her mouth shut, but after ten years as partners, he was used to it. They left the courthouse to continue work on another case which involved the death of one Bobby Grasso, whose body was found in an alley behind a biker bar, the ‘Black Adder’. The detectives had been there several times to interview the biker crowd. Most of them belonged to the ‘Rim Riders’ cycle club, and the interviews went nowhere. A firm code of silence in the club was enforced by its leader, William Young, who was called ‘Handlebar’ and had a long record of violence. Paul and Lou interviewed him once, with the only outcome being that suspicions about him went up. He was a person of interest, and he knew it. Rim Rider members didn’t like their leader being hassled by the cops.

A week later Lou was heading home but needed to buy some food. It was after dark when she pulled her car into the 7 -11 parking lot and saw only two other cars. One was an old Honda Civic, probably the night cashier’s. The other was a pimped-up street racer, Mitsubishi Lancer. The silver mag wheels stood out against the cobalt blue matte-finished body wrapped in chrome trim.

Inside the store were the cashier and three customers, the guys from the street racer Lou figured. She was looking through the aisles when one of the street racer punks stepped in front of her. In his mid-twenties, not well shaven, wearing black denim jeans and a black hoodie with the hood down, he flashed a grin at Lou.

“What have we here? Such a pretty little thing filling out those pants so well.”

“Watch it, buster. You might need to use your health insurance, if you have any.”

A second young tough guy stepped behind her. The first thug reached out, touched her hair, then opened his stupid mouth again,

“Well, we have a feisty one, don’t we.”

In a flash she bashed him in the face with a can of baked beans she pulled from a shelf. His nose broke, and blood splattered as he fell to the floor. Just as quickly, she spun around then, with tremendous force ,raised a knee into the groin of the second man. The impact lifted him off his feet, and he fell to the floor. A third man stepped into the aisle and pulled a knife. She moved so fast he hardly saw her hand grab his arm then twist it around his back. After the knife fell to the floor, she rammed him headfirst into the wall where he collapsed.

Still flat on the floor, the first man was trying to rise.

“You bitch….I’m going to have fun with you…”

She put a knee on his chest, pushing him back down, pulled out her Glock 22, and put the barrel on his forehead.

“Is there something you want to discuss? Choose your next words carefully. You have anything to say?”

“No”

“Show a little respect. No….what?”

“No, ma’am.”

“That’s better. Now you should say good night. You’re going to take a little nap.”

With that, she pulled his head up by the hair then slammed it back down on the concrete floor, and he was out cold.

The second man was groaning and holding his groin while trying to stand up, so Lou offered help.

“The best thing to ease the pain is some ice.”

She levelled the Glock 22 barrel at his chest, helped him stand up and pushed him toward the floor to ceiling glass freezer door. She opened the door, pushed him in, then closed the door. Using a kitchen towel from the display rack, she tied it around the abutting handles of the two freezer doors. Inside, the man was pounding on the glass to get out but the doors weren’t budging.

The third man started getting up, so she stepped in front of him, with the Glock aimed at him.

“I doubt you make good decisions. Think about what you need to decide now.”

The man stared at the gun, then at Lou.

“If you take a step, I’ll put a bullet into your kneecap. Or, you can sit down, asshole.”

He sat down on the floor, and she threw a handcuff around his wrist then secured the other end to a display rack,

“Good decision for a change.”

The entire battle took less than thirty seconds, and the cashier never moved. When she approached him, he asked if he should call 911. She showed her badge then handed him a card,

“No need to call 911. There’s no emergency now. There just needs to be a bit of cleanup. Call that number. Tell them Lou Mathews needs uniforms here.” She left without any groceries.

On her way home from the 7-11, she got a call and drove to Paul’s house. The high-pitched beep-beep of the siren was heard as her black sedan came into view. The rooftop flashing blue light on the car shone bright in the dark of night. After stopping in front of the house, she turned off the siren and rooftop flasher. In front of the house was a fleet of police cars. A river of yellow crime scene tape seemed to be wrapped around everything. Police officers stood guard on the street, blocking access to the house. Crime lab investigators in white PPE suits were roaming the outside grounds and forensically scouring the inside.

She stepped out of the car then just stood looking at the house. The night sky was luminous with the red, blue and yellow lights flashing everywhere. When she slammed the car door shut, everybody heard it then looked. They all stopped what they were doing, and the night became silent, with the only movement being the strobes of the flashing lights.

Detective Sargent Louise Mathews slowly walked from her car, onto the porch, then into the house. Captain Dave Steere, her boss, was in the living room looking down. Seeing her, he turned to block the view of the floor.

“Lou, don’t. You don’t want to see it. Let me take you home and call you as soon as we get anything.”

“He was my partner for ten years, Dave! Damn it! Let me through!”

Steere stepped aside and Lou looked at the body of Paul Hardeen lying face down. Three bullet holes in his back were obvious, but there could be more. The light grey carpet was turning dark as the blood spread. Lou had seen countless homicides and was usually ready with questions, but now she stood in silence. Captain Steere stepped over to put an arm around her. She pushed him away.

“Don’t. Not now, Dave. YOU, have work to do! If you can’t, then I will!”

I didn’t expect it but wasn’t surprised. Lou Mathews was giving orders to our boss. She’s just that type of a gal. Wait, who is that lying face down? There must be a mistake. It can’t be….that’s me. Some son-of-a-bitch shot me, and in the back too. I never saw it coming. What the hell? This can’t be. I’ve gone to the ‘other side’! This is bullshit. I can’t be dead. I need to get back where I was, to be there, to find my killer. I’m here. Where is here? Where the hell am I? What the hell am I?

Lou walked back through the still lingering silence to her car without eye contact with anybody. Every cop there knew Louise and knew what she felt. Many of them had suffered the same loss. She slowly drove away with no siren blaring or lights flashing. A block from the house, she stopped, turned the car lights off and sat in the dark.

I was in the back seat, but she couldn’t see me; I couldn’t see me; nobody could see me. I could hear Lou. Could she hear me? Could anybody hear me? I need to be me again and help her. How can I help her?

Lou burst into tears, pounding the steering wheel, and sobbed aloud.

“Why, why, Hardeen why! It shouldn’t be…. You shouldn’t have…..”

She was right; I shouldn’t have…….but I have….I did. Damn it. We stayed parked for at least fifteen minutes, I thought. She cried the whole time while I just watched. That’s all I could do, I think. I’d never seen Lou break down. She was a rock, but now tears flowed. After ten years in the Army, she’d risen to rank of First Sergeant. It was the First Sergeant at whom almost all unit operations merged. The military training transitioned to police work without friction, and we solved countless homicides over the years. Lou was at her best when she had to capture somebody, when the chase was on or when things got rough. She was, and still is, a bad ass. I’ve seen her take out men twice her size. I am, or I was, the methodical problem solver, the analytical one. We are, or were, a great team. I’d figure out who did it, and she’d cuff them. Whoever the snake was that shot me, may be after Lou next. Her life could depend on solving this case, and she doesn’t have me to help. It’ll be the most important case she’ll ever work, so I need to figure out a way to help her. This is the most important case for me as well. I want revenge! It’s not fair! I want someone to pay! I’ll get them! I need help to get back to her. Who can I turn to?

Lou slowly pulled herself together to focus on the unpleasant jobs to be done. Paul’s parents passed away three years ago. He was the youngest of three sons, their only children. Brothers Harold, or Harry, the eldest, and Robert, the middle son, knew Lou. Both lived close, and Lou could drive to see them in person. The news of the murder of a high-profile detective would be out soon, so a phone call would have to do.

The one remaining person to notify was Paul’s closest friend, Adam Collins, who lived across town and Lou had to go see him. Being friends for twenty years, they were closer than brothers. It would be a difficult discussion.

Lou calls to Harry, and Robert were tense, strained, and emotional. Lou gave them little details, deciding only to say Paul was fatally shot in the line of duty. As soon as she had more information, she’d share it with them. The brothers knew the risks their brother took and always worried about him. The news was horrifying but not unexpected. They both knew this day could come but didn’t know it would be that day.

With those calls made, Lou headed to Adam Collins’s house. She parked in the driveway then just sat for a minute. This was going to be hard, and she needed to compose herself. At the door, Adam greeted her with his normal friendly smile,

“Hi Lou, what an unexpected pleasure. Good to see you as always. Is Paul with you?”

Lou looked down, taking her eyes off Adam.

“Where is Paul? Has something happened? Don’t tell me…”

“I’m so sorry, Adam. Paul is gone. Somebody got him at his house. He was shot in the back.”

Adam collapsed into a living room chair.

“No, no, no! It can’t be!”

He put his face down to his hands then wept.

I’m watching this from wherever I am and would also like to cry. I don’t think crying is possible in my state. Adam and I were very close so I’ll miss him terribly. Hell, I’ll miss everybody, except the bastard that shot me. Lou is handling things with a soft touch. She had a tough job and did it well, so I need to thank her…somehow. I have to communicate with her.

Lou was still a cop even when emotions ran high.

“Adam, we have no leads on the shooter yet, but we’ll find the guy. The whole detective squad is on it along with the entire forensics team. The patrolmen are working their street contacts as well. It’s priority one for everybody.”

Adam looked at Lou and said nothing. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Can I get you anything, Adam? What can I do for you?”

“You can’t bring back Paul. So there’s really nothing you can do to help me, Lou. I just want to be alone.”

It was after midnight when Lou pulled into her driveway. She opened the security camera app on her phone to see what outdoor movements were captured around the house. The neighbour’s son hit a baseball onto the front lawn, and a cat had ambled across the lawn. There was no other activity. The other app for her indoor security intrusion system reported no alarms, faults or interruptions. It was safe to go in the house.

Being in the military, Lou was big on using tech. She pushed me to get security in place, but I never got around to setting things up. I lived alone, so taking care of the house and myself wasn’t a priority. I’ll never have a chance to improve security, but I guess things can’t get any worse for me now.

In the house, Lou reset the external security system to detect any outside movement, then looked at the day’s mail with little interest. In the kitchen she opened the refrigerator. Nothing had changed since she looked there in the morning; everything was just another day older. The three-day-old leftover pizza needed to be tossed. The butter and eggs were OK. The white box of leftover Chinese food was now fully saturated and grey. There was a loaf of bread in a clear wrapper with obvious green mould. A few cold cuts that looked edible were on a cling film wrapped plate. Four cans of beer were on a shelf with two bottles of cola. After grabbing the cola for dinner, she sat down and let her eyes tear up. When her cell phone rang, she composed herself.

“Mathews”

I could only hear Lou, not the caller. She listened for about thirty seconds, then spoke, or rather yelled. The caller is probably Dave Steere wanting to see how she is and give her updates.

“So, you have no clues yet. I should worry because they might come after me next. Is that all you’ve got? Not good enough!”

She hung up, sat in the kitchen with the lights out and wept.

I was more than a partner. In the early days I went out of my way to make sure the all too often male chauvinism in a police force never went her way. I would have words with the offending Neanderthal to end it. Lou didn’t need anyone to fight her battles, but causing trouble within the force wouldn’t help things. It was never mentioned, yet she knew I had her back. As we got to know and respect each other, a fondness evolved. The job brought us together, and we both felt it. We’d give our lives for each other, yet it could never be a romance. If only she’d come to my house with me, I might still be alive. I guess I really do love Lou for who she is to me.

It was about two AM when Lou woke up from falling asleep with her head down on the kitchen table. She struggled to make it up the stairs to her bedroom. Looking at the bedside table photo of she and Paul, her eyes watered up again.

Waking at about ten AM she felt rested while also feeling a void in her life. The picture on the bedside table of her and Paul was….lying face down. It was upright when she went to bed, and she hadn’t bumped it in her sleep. She thought with all the security systems, it was impossible someone had been in the house. Nonetheless, she reached under the pillow to retrieve her Glock 22 with its fifteen-shot magazine, then looked around the room. Seeing nothing else disturbed, she put the gun down.

I knew she’d see the picture was facedown. It’s me, Lou. I’m here with you. You just don’t know it. I have to get a message to you. I need help; you need help!

Still struggling to wake up, her phone rang.

“Mathews”

“Dave here. The only prints we got were of you, Paul, and another person. No matches yet on those. No surprise we found your prints, given you went to his house often. Same story with DNA evidence. We found yours, Paul’s and the new person of interest. Autopsy is under way, and we’ll look for ballistics match. I’ve got Henderson looking at recent prison releases of anybody you two put away. Things are moving Lou. Are you safe? Do you want protection?”

“I’m fine. I can protect myself. Bye.”

Asking Lou Mathews if she needed protection was like asking Eskimos if they need snow.

She wanted, or rather, needed a workout to unwind. Lou was five feet nine inches tall and very fit, mostly due to exercise, not a healthy diet. The gym bag was filled with workout clothes, then she went downstairs with a lot on her mind. Walking past a picture hanging on the wall, she suddenly stopped. After standing still for a few seconds, she turned around to look at a picture of her and Paul in dress blues. The picture was hanging on the wall at a forty-five-degree angle.

Lou dropped her gym bag then double-checked her security apps. There had been no activity anywhere. Was that picture off level when she came home? It had to be, but how? Did she miss seeing it the night before? She straightened the picture all the while wondering how that could happen.

I have her attention but need to figure out a way to do more than just knock over pictures. I’ll keep an eye on her while I work on how to get messages to her. I can do this; I have to do this.