While Jordy led Barbara away from the gruesome scene to wait for the police, Kazimir spent a moment alone with Hank. He was gone, consumed by the darkness of death’s embrace. All Kazimir had left of him were his memories.
New Syracuse wasn’t filled with many cordial people, so making friends had been difficult for Kazimir, but Hank treated him like they’d known each other for years. Four days ago, Hank had saved up enough to take Kazimir out to his first concert for a band they loved. He’d always cherish that day, especially the roadtrip. They’d never see another concert together again.
Guilt pricked at Kazimir’s heart as the blood trickled down Hank’s neck. Had they not came to the art gallery, maybe Hank would still be alive. A knot in Kazimir’s stomach tightened, but he couldn’t look away from his friend. Hank couldn’t be dead. Seeing him slumped over on the bench should’ve been convincing enough, but Kazimir didn’t want to believe it.
Kazimir knew he had to stay strong, if not for himself, for Hank. Who would do something so heinous? Could a gang member be responsible? Memories of Mr. Lamphere’s death came to mind. Hank didn’t have any reason to have enemies, let alone have someone who would want to kill him. Kazimir didn’t want to disturb his body, but he needed to know who had been calling him. Behind him, Barbara cried in Jordy’s arms. The poor woman just lost the love of her life.
Crouching down, Kazimir carefully searched Hank’s pockets for his cell phone. He couldn’t find it. Whoever sliced Hank’s neck must have taken it with them. That only made Kazimir more curious about the calls and what else might have been on that phone. He wanted to search more, but he knew it would look suspicious if he stayed near Hank’s body. He needed to move away before the cops arrived.
As he walked away, he couldn’t help but look back at his neighbor. A tear trickled down his cheek. Kazimir started to wonder if he was cursed because everyone he cared about ended up dead. He pulled his coat tighter around his body. He couldn’t get Hank’s soulless expression out of his mind. It reminded him too much of his own father.
“You okay?” Jordy asked.
Kazimir shook his head then wiped his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. “I couldn’t find his phone. Remember how someone kept calling him? Maybe that’s who did this.”
“Yeah, you might be right.” Jordy dabbed under his eyes with the collar of his shirt, jaw tightening. “Looks like his killer was smart enough to take it with them too. Who could’ve done this? You think it was one of those gang members?”
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Kazimir removed his glasses to wipe his tears. “I don’t know.”
Sniffling and whimpering, Barbara pulled away from Jordy, who tried to console her. Bright blue and red lights swallowed up the park, followed by a couple of officers with flashlights. Barbara hurried over to them, frantically gesturing to where her dead husband was on the bench.
Kazimir faded into the background like a shadow when nosy people and police gathered around like vultures. They moved Barbara into the back of an ambulance to try and console her, but not even the blanket they gave her stopped her shivering. While she spoke with one of the cops, Jordy called their son to gently explain what had happened. Kazimir stayed near the front of the ambulance away from them but close enough to know what was happening.
With shaky hands, Kazimir reached down into his pocket for his Bic lighter and a cigarette. He exhaled a heavy breath, hoping to calm his nerves. A red-headed cop made eye-contact with him as he smoked. Gripping his lighter tightly, he tried to calm his pounding heart. He didn’t want the police to get suspicious of him.
The cops secured procedural crime scene tape around the area along with a white tent to keep inquisitive citizens out. Deputies in blue scattered about like little beetles, and a crime-scene tech went to examine Hank’s body. Police made Kazimir squeamish for many reasons. Drug addicts didn’t have a good rep with them.
Moving away from the ambulance, Kazimir caught the red-headed cop in his peripheral vision. He’d gotten closer. To test his theory of being watched, Kazimir made his way down to one of the trees. Just as he expected, that red-headed cop followed him.
“Hello, I’m sorry to bother you.” The lanky, ginger cop approached him. “You’re Kazimir Vass... Vassa...”
“Vassiliev,” Kazimir corrected him, readjusting his glasses. People pronounced his Russian surname wrong all the time. “What do you want to know?”
“I just have some procedural questions to ask you. I’m sorry about your loss tonight. Was the victim a close friend of yours?” From the flickering bright lights, Kazimir made out the nametag on his uniform. C. Bailey.
“Hank’s my neighbor,” Kazimir replied. “Or, was my neighbor.”
Detective Bailey retrieved a small notepad from his pocket and a pen. He scribbled something down.
“What happened here tonight?” he asked. “Just talk me through the events leading up to finding your neighbor.”
Kazimir relayed everything that unfolded before they discovered Hank. He got teary-eyed while talking about his murdered neighbor.
“And, did you or anyone else touch his body before we arrived?” Detective Bailey asked.
“I did,” Kazimir admitted. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do. I checked for a pulse and for his cell phone. Someone kept calling him all night. We thought maybe that person had something to do with this.”
Detective Bailey frowned. “Do you have his cell phone?”
“No, I couldn’t find it on him. I think his killer might’ve took it.”
“I see. Interesting. Okay, thank you, Kazimir. You’ve been a big help. Another officer will be over here shortly to ask you some follow-up questions and maybe even repeat the ones I did,” Detective Bailey replied. “Again, all standard procedure. If you need anything, come get me. I’ll just be over there.” He pointed near the fountain.
Kazimir didn’t have faith in the New Syracuse Police Department to find his killer. Murderers walked away as free men and cases went cold all the time. The police stowed their files away, only to possibly be reopened some twenty-odd years later. If Kazimir wanted justice for Hank, he’d have to investigate matters himself.
Barbara’s son, Jerome, soon arrived to comfort his mother. Their family hadn’t expected such a tragedy to occur, but death could be just as unpredictable as the weather. Grayness stretched across the sky, covering them in a veil of misery.
Amid the curious crowd, a news crew van pulled up into the parking lot. Hank’s murder would be paraded around on the networks for a few months before a new topic fell into their grubby paws.
There was nothing Kazimir could do to console the family or take away their heartache. He let them grieve together and kept his distance.
As the night bled into the early hours of dawn, Kazimir noticed that Detective Bailey kept a close eye on him no matter where he went. While he tried to ignore the feeling, for the life of him, he couldn’t help but wonder why.
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