The Detective – cont.

“My dad was always euphoric.”  “When they drank together, he would always play that song by Commander Cody, Hot Rod Lincoln”.  “I think it’s because she use to open her mouth about his being a user.”  “She also was, and she use to run off getting drunk for a few days at a time.”  “Just about anything could of happened to her.”  “Or, maybe she decided to not come back.”  “But, why would her purse be on a shelf in a tree?”, Luci finished.  The Detective said, “maybe she changed her identity.”.  Then, he asked, “Did anybody ever question her being gone?”.

To be cont….

The Detective – cont.

My name is Luci Monroe, my birthday is June 27th, 1985, and my address is 56 William St., apartment 2, here in Livingston.  “Okay Luci, my name is Brent Brotzman.”  “Here is my card with my number in case you have to get a hold of me at any time.”, he finished, as he handed me his card.  “You said your mother left when you were seven, that was twenty-seven years ago.” “Can you remember anything about her, or why she would leave, or if someone would want to hurt her?”, Brent asked.  “There are a couple of things that have always made me wonder.”, Luci admitted.

To be cont….

The Detective – cont.

“Hey, I remember you from the coffee shop!”, he said, acknowledging my presence.  “I remembered you to,” I said, and forced a smile.  “Well, looks like you found something of interest.”  “We’ll have to take down some information, and we will be investigating the where-a-bouts of your mother.”, the Detective continued.  “I may have to call on you for more information in the future, are you okay with this?”, he, asked.  “Sure”, I replied; fright was in my voice.  “Okay, we will start with your name, your birthdate, and your address.

To be cont….

The Detective – cont.

Arriving at the police station, the front desk officer went to get a detective.  While sitting at the table all sorts of things were going through my mind:  how my mother just left.  Never a call or a letter.  Nobody ever questioned it.  Seek and find, brought a smile.  Could even be that my mother was a little dirty.  Could be because everyone else is.  My uncle, and my aunt, have both died young in addictions and crime.  Then, my thoughts stopped, and my jaw dropped, when the door opened.  It was the same detective from the coffee shop.

To be cont….

The Detective – cont.

I sat motionless; stunned.  What is going on?  I have had thoughts like this through-out my life.  Then, I remembered the detective, and what my dad always said about cops.  I’m going to bring my mothers purse to the police.  I went to my car to get a bag.  I always keep a couple in the glove box to put my garbage in.  I didn’t want to jeopardise any DNA.  Feeling happy with my self, I felt some hope.

To be cont….

The Detective – cont.

The object was laying on the ground.  Either the squirrels, or a person, had dug a ledge into the tree.  Standing amazed by it all, I looked down at the object.  Suddenly, seeing what it was, I went frantic.  It was my mothers purse.  I picked it up and stepped out of the tree.  The zipper was corroded and it wouldn’t open.  But, the trying ripped the fabric.  I found everything still inside.  All of her ID, everything.

To be cont….

The Detective – cont.

Getting to the tree, it looked the same.  A little more worn.  It has been fifteen years since I’ve been here.  I loved this old tree because you could go inside of it.  Protected from the cold, and the rain.  Looking inside, it seemed a lot smaller.  Looking up, it seemed as if something was sticking out, sitting on a shelf.  I reached up and pulled.  It all came tumbling down.

To be cont….

The Detective – cont…

Driving out to the cabin was an enjoyable ride.  The fall colours with the smell of oak and maple that also scented the air.  It was a four hour drive to get here.  The cabin was still standing, but not for much longer.  I was leery taking that first step inside; hoping the roof wouldn’t cave in.  It was bright.  Looking around, the dock caught my eye.  Walking down, the path was pretty much over-grown.  Surprisingly, the dock was still quite sturdy.  I sat looking out over the lake.  The sun glistening off the ripples.  A voice kept telling me to look around the big tree.  Then, I remembered the big tree from when I was a kid.

To be cont….

The Detective – cont…

It was on the way home that I remembered my dad calling my mother insane.  His eyes in rage, she was in tears.  He is demeaning.  Many times, I have thought of not returning to his grave.  His fresh flowers covering his stench.  Realizing the full brunt of his nature, I suspect my mother probably went into hiding.  There is a cabin he used when he went fishing.  I’m going to look around out there.

To be cont….

The Detective – cont.

Once I reached what I was looking at, it was a garbage bag.  My insides dropped.  Then, I chuckled, at least it wasn’t my mother.  I found a stick and started poking around a bit.  Looking for a sign, for some kind of clue.  A memory of my mother calling my dad an ^&$hole manifested.  My dad was sitting intently; the memory stopped.  I sat down and started picking at the dirt subconsciously.  There was something, it was a loony.  I found a loony.  A loony; it all came together.

To be cont….