The Harlequin - 9. Chapter 9

The local finest arrive in one squad car. Adam flagged them down by flicking his jeep’s lights. The two uniformed officers climbed out of their vehicle and approached.

“Stay here,” said Adam.

“But shouldn’t I talk to them?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah, but let me speak to them first, okay?”

“Okay.”

Adam climbed out with his detective’s shield ready and met the officer at the front of his jeep.

“Evening officers,” he said.

“Did you call for us?”

“Yes officer,” said Adam. “Well—I called—for him.” Adam gestured towards the passenger’s seat where Patrick sat rubbing his right bicep, most likely from his fall, and looking towards the graveyard.

He presented his badge and ID to the officer, who studied it with his regulation flashlight. Officer Powell sighed after reading that Adam was a detective, showing the ID to his partner. Then he aimed the light at Patrick, who flinched from the bright glare. The officer dropped the beam and gave Adam back his badge.

“We are Officer Powell and Officer Saxon. What seems to be the problem here, Mr. Potter?”

“I was on my way home when I drove by and witnessed this young man struggling in a tree with a masked attacker.”

“In a tree?” Officer Powell pulled out a note pad from his uniform coat and wrote the information Adam gave as he listened.

“That’s right. He fell when the limb broke, right over there by the fence,” Adam said, pointing to where a tree limb lay.

“Who?”

“Patrick, the young man in my jeep. He gave me a first name, no last.”

“Go on,” said Officer Powell as Officer Saxon walked over to the place where Patrick fell, eyeing the broken tree limb. He shone his flashlight on the ground to see if there were any footprints, but the ground was hard, and none were visible.

“I intervened when the masked guy jumped from the tree and was holding a knife over Patrick. I got my gun from my glove compartment before climbing out of my jeep. I ordered the masked figure to get away from Patrick. Then he took off running. I chased him around to the south side, then he climbed the fence back into the cemetery.”

“Climbed back in?” Officer Powell asked, glancing at Adam.

“Yeah, I couldn’t follow.”

“Can you describe him?”

“Between 5’9, 6’2, bulky built, dressed in black that covered him from head to toe, no skin exposure. I’m not even sure it was a male or a female attacker wearing a Harlequin mask.”

“A what?”

“Harlequin mask. You know the ones they wear at masquerade parties.”

“Oh yeah. Go on.”

“Well, I couldn’t pursue him because of the gate.”

“The locals branded it ‘Hell’s Gate’,” said Officer Saxon over his shoulder, shining his flashlight into the cemetery, scanning the surrounding area.

“But you said he climbed over?” asked Officer Powell.

“Yeah, he must have had reinforcement gear on because he didn’t miss a beat,” said Adam.

“You stated you carry a weapon, Mr. Potter?”

“I do.”

“Did you fire it?”

“No, I just moved back to town and I unloaded it while I was doing the move. I never had time to reload.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, Patrick said his friend Gavin is still in the graveyard. He believes he’s dead, killed by the Harlequin.”

“What makes you or he thinks he’s dead?”

“Patrick said Gavin was stabbed, then saw the Harlequin break his neck.”

“Okay, we will need to speak to him.”

Adam turned and waved Patrick to approach. Patrick exited the jeep and walked over to Adam and the two officers.

“Patrick, this is Officer Powell; he needs to speak with you.”

“But, what about Gavin?”

“That’s what we need to know,” said Officer Powell, taking charge of the questioning. He noticed Patrick’s smudged face with small cuts on his chin and forehead and the injury to his hand. “I see you’re hurt. Would you like us to call EMT?”

“No, I’m fine,” said Patrick, putting his hurt hand behind his back.

“Can you start by giving me your full name?”

“Patrick,” he said, standing close to Adam. The officer seemed annoyed by Patrick's refusal to give his last name, but continued with his questioning.

“What about Gavin. Does he have a last name?”

“Gavin Martin.”

“Where did you last see Mr. Martin?”

“He’s lying on an above-ground grave marked.”

“Why go in there?”

“Is that important? Gavin--” But the same officer interrupted him.

“Because it’s after hours and no one is allowed in there. So I’ll ask again. Why were you in there?”

“Gavin likes cemeteries. He likes walking through them at night. We weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“You both trespass to take a walk through a cemetery at night?”

“Yeah.”

“You say he’s lying on an above ground grave?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, we will need you to take us to him. I know how you got out. How did you get inside?”

“Through that gate over there.” Patrick pointed at the spot Gavin had taken him through many times, not far from the tree.

“Then why didn’t you get out the way you came?” asked Officer Powell.

Officer Saxon walked over to the gate and checked the chain link with heavy duty catch and noticed it was two different links padlocked to the gate. “This gate is locked tight,” Officer Saxon called. The questioning officer turned back to Patrick for answers.

“Are you sure you came in that way?”

“Yes. Someone must have put it on after Gavin and I entered. It was loose, so we could duck under the chain.”

“I’ll get the cutters,” said Officer Powell.

“Can Mr. Potter come with us?” asked Patrick.

“We have no problem with that. Mr. Potter, do you mind joining us?” Patrick lean against Adam’s arm and gazed up at him, pleading for his help.

“No problem.”

“You both can go wait with Officer Saxon.”

Officer Powell grabbed the cutters from the trunk and clipped the chain, opening the gate. Adam walked beside Patrick as the two officers walked behind them holding flashlights. Patrick took them to the precise spot where Gavin was. When they arrived they found no body or any sign of foul play.

“But he was here, I swear—I saw him with the knife in his back, and his eyes were open,” said Patrick, frantic.

“Are you sure this is the spot?” asked Adam.

“Yes—Gavin always brought me here.”

Officer Saxon searched the area, shining his flashlight on the grass and dead leaves.

“Were you two just walking or doing something else?” asked Officer Powell. The condescending tone in the cop’s voice made Patrick not want to respond. “Okay enough—either you answer my questions or I’m arresting you.”

“For what?” Patrick asked.

“For wasting the police’s time with your little joke,” he snapped.

“I swear someone killed Gavin and I saw it happen.”

“Then answer my question!”

“Okay. We were here fucking. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He turned to Adam and grabbed his forearms. “Please help me; Gavin is still here.”

“What makes you think that when you just said someone killed him?” asked the officer. Patrick turned back.

“The killer might have moved him,” said Patrick

“Did you try calling for help?” asked Adam.

“Yes, on my cell but the killer blocked the call.”

“How?” asked Officer Powel.

“I don’t know, but he was talking, saying we can be together now that Gavin was dead. But Gavin wasn't dead yet; he was still breathing. When I turned back to him, the killer was standing beside him then…broke his neck. I dropped my cell and took off running.”

“Where did you drop your cell?” Adam asked.

“Over there in the leaves.” Officer Saxon checked the dead leaves by a headstone, but found nothing.

“When did the killer show up?” Officer Powell continued.

“A few seconds after he blocked my call,” said Patrick.

“Did you see from which direction he came?” Officer Powell watched Patrick as he continued to bombard him with questions.

“No. He was just behind me.”

“When did he first attack your friend?”

“While we were finishing having sex.”

“You saw him come up on you?”

“I didn’t see him stab Gavin. I had my eyes shut.”

“Something entered his back, and you didn’t hear him grunt or cry out?”

“I thought he was—climaxing. I had my eyes closed,” Patrick repeated looking for the right words and avoiding Adam’s gaze.

“Or maybe there is no killer, and someone’s having a good laugh at your expense. We’re going back to the car to call this in and maybe press charges,” said Officer Powell to Patrick.

“Charges for what? Being scared out of his wits?” asked Adam. “Being chased by a knife wielding nut?”

“I’m not talking to you, Potter. But since you brought it up, there will be a call out for the guy. I find it strange that the killer, who Patrick-with-no-last-name says chased him into a tree, fought with him and had a knife in his hand. Why didn’t he use it on Patrick?” Officer Powell directed his last question at Patrick who shook from anger.

“How the fuck should I know why he did what he did?” snapped Patrick.

“Watch your tone, boy.”

Adam stepped between them, keeping his back to Patrick.

“Listen, he did say that the killer said they can be together. That could be the reason he never stabbed Patrick. Maybe you should call a crew out here to search the graveyard.”

“For what? The place where he said the body was didn’t even have blood anywhere. Which suggests that it was all a joke.”

“You can’t tell me you’re going to brush this aside.”

“No Potter I’m not. A call has been made and the grounds will be searched so make yourselves comfortable.” Officer Powell walked over to his partner leaving Adam and Patrick by the jeep. They stood in silence as Patrick shivered from the cold.

“You’re freezing,” said Adam.

“I’m alright,” said Patrick.

“Yeah right. Stay here.” Adam walked to the back of his jeep and opened the hatch window bringing out a fleece blanket. He returned to Patrick and opened the blanket for him. Patrick allowed Adam to drape it over his shoulders and welcomed the warmth that it provided. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Potter.”

“Adam.”

“Thank you, Adam.”

“They’re going to get answers.”

“I hope so.”