De Nombreuses Perspectives

A bullet whizzes past the dancers in the party, like a hornet straight from its nest. Eventually it finds its target, hitting the groom of the wedding through his chest and straight through his heart, killing him instantaneously. The screams from the crowd and the frightened bride mingled with the panic and stampede as people rushed to get to cover.

Felix snapped open his eyes from his dream and looked around; he was back in his office, the ceiling fan spinning ever so slowly around, with horseflies droning against the window, trying in vain to escape. The police investigator sat up and looked down at the file on his desk again. The incident had happened nearly a week ago, and ever since he took on the case, he had been having dreams about the time of the murder. At first, it was flashes and glimmers of images from the wedding, which he dismissed as faint memories of looking over the evidence photos, but eventually the dreams became more elaborate, so detailed that there were things he couldn’t have possibly known or ascertained from the evidence. He knew what hors d'oeuvre were served leading to the time of the murder, as well as the colour of the tie worn by the bride’s father. What seemed to elude him though, was the identity of the murderer. The dreams would give tantalizing new perspectives, but stopped short of identifying the culprit responsible.

As he took out a notepad, he wrote down notes from the latest dream that he had, stating any important details that would be pertinent to the investigation.

Trajectory of the bullet was aimed north towards the groom.

With his shift finished, Felix retired to his suburban home on the outskirts of Vancouver, in a sleepy neighbourhood called Port Moody.

There his family awaited him, eager to start on the dinner his wife had been busy preparing for the last two hours.

“Glad you made it home on time for dinner Dear,” said Andrea. “Morrison helped me a great deal peeling all the potatoes and dicing up the onions.”

“Is that so young man? I’m right proud of you my boy,” said Felix, patting his teenager on the back.

“Cried a bucket-full cutting those onions. I don’t think I’ve ever cried so much in my life!” said Morrison, wiping his eyes.

“Well, we can keep jabbering on or we can start eating if you two are finished with conversation?” suggested Andrea.

As the family took their seats, Felix cleared his throat and explained why he had been so busy the last week; “There was a murder at a wedding, and the strangest thing is that I’ve been getting strange dreams about the moment of the murder as if I was there!”

Andrea sliced into her steak as she thoughtfully pondered what to make of her husband’s revelations.

“So did you figure out who the murderer was Dad?” asked Morrison, clearly intrigued by the twist in the case.

“Unfortunately no, but I’m getting closer and closer with each dream. Each time I get a new perspective from the wedding and it allows me to view the scene in a new light. By the way the steak is delicious Dear,” said Felix, giving a thumbs-up.

“Can we talk about something other than your work Dear? I know you two boys are excited about mystery murder cases but it all seems like a soap opera to me honestly. How about your hockey practice Morrison? Did you tell Dad what happened the other day?”

The teenage boy looked downcast, as if caught red-handed in some troubling deed. “I punched a guy in the face. He started it by calling me four-eyes. So I threw off my gloves and sucker-punched him on the nose.”

Felix gravely lowered his voice, raising an eyebrow and asking for more detail: “And…?”

“His nose started bleeding all over and stained the ice red as he was led away to the medical room. Coach gave me a two-game suspension and made my promise him never to punch another player again no matter what they did.”

Soon everyone was finished eating and while Morrison sat and watched TV, his parents conversed quietly as they washed the dishes.

“It’s not like Morrison to get in a fight. He’s a quiet kid, keeps to himself most of the time and doesn’t let things like name-calling get to him,” said Felix, not understanding where his son’s aggression came from.

“Could be the hormones, you know, from puberty? What would trouble me more is if he’s holding up all this pent-up anger and releases one day to cause a more dire result.”

“I’ll have a chat with him. He’s still young and needs to learn right from wrong,” said Feliz as he handed Andrea the last plate.

He then walked over to Morrison, sitting down on the sofa next to him, gesturing with his hand for his son to turn off the TV.

“Tell me again, why did you punch that boy? It wasn’t just because he called you Four Eyes was it?”

Morrison looked down at his feet, fidgeting with his thumbs. “The other boys call me a wimp. Sissy. Even called me Pansy one time. I had enough and so I thought I’d show them that I’m not afraid of them.”

Felix nodded, finally understanding his son’s intentions. “I appreciate that you’re being honest with me Son, but next time, tell me or your mom what’s going on and we can help. Me and your mom have been bullied too when we were your age.”

“You and Mom too? Really?” asked Morrison, clearly surprised.

“I was called a snitch while your mom was laughed at when she had braces.”

“And you guys didn’t do anything about it?” inquired Morrison.

Felix stroked his chin as he recalled what happened, “I told my teacher about it, and your mom focused on when she could show everyone her perfect smile.”

“But didn’t those bullies make you mad?”

“Oh sure, but we learned not to stay angry, and to let it go, like water off a duck’s back.”

As Felix finished conversing with his son, they both went upstairs to get ready for bed while Andrea prepared some fresh fruit for breakfast tomorrow.

Slowly, Felix drifted off to slumber, and the familiar wedding crime scene appeared again. This time, he was looking from the perspective of the shooter, and he could see him holding a rifle with a scope, aiming at the groom in the front. He could see the guests scatter as they saw the weapon. As he looked closely, he noticed the weapon was a standard issue for his state police department, commonly used by himself and his men. Once again he snapped open his eyes and wrote everything down, worry creasing all over his forehead.

When he arrived at the police station, he immediately called his supervisor and suggested they question every officer as to where they were when the shooting occurred. Felix was genuinely worried that the shooter may have been one of his men.

After checking out the alibies of every officer at the station, Felix was relieved that none of his men were responsible for the murder. But still, the fact that the shooter had a standard-issued police rifle greatly bothered Felix.

Had they bought the rifle from an officer? Were they posing as an officer? Felix thought as he flipped through his casefile for the thousandth time.

As his eyes drooped, he fell asleep once again, and this time he was looking from the groom’s perspective. He noticed a black sedan with tinted windows pull up behind the wedding guests and a hooded figure climbed out of the door holding a police rifle. People screamed and scattered as they noticed the stranger and Felix could only watch as the man aimed the rifle and fired, hitting the groom, causing him to crumble to the ground in a pool of blood. But there was something about the killer that frightened Felix. Something in his eyes greatly troubled him, as if he had seen those eyes before.

“Chief! Chief! Wake up! We’ve found the murder weapon! It was stashed in a locker in the change room. The ballistics investigation team confirmed it was the same rifle that fired the kill shot on Mr. Grey,” informed an officer, heaving after running to Felix’s office.

“Do we have video of the culprit putting the rifle in there?” asked Felix, hoping for a clear identification.

“Fraid not Sir. Image is too blurry and suspect was wearing a black hoodie. But we now know he has access to our police department and is one of us. There’s no way a stranger could have waltzed into our office undetected.”

“You’re right, Officer Ironmonger. I want everyone’s alibi checked during the time the suspect hid the murder weapon. We have a turncoat among us, and we will make him pay for his treachery.”

Soon, the interviews were nearly over, and only a handful of officers and workers didn’t have a credible alibi for where they were when the weapon was hidden.

Felix walked in front of them, speaking with a menacing tone; “Now you all may have had an alibi for when the suspect shot Mr. Grey, but the fact remains that you five were unaccounted for when the weapon was hidden in our lockers. Now you five might not be the killers, but being an accomplice to murder is just as bad.

One of the accused was a short thin man, who was obviously nervous as he shook like a leaf.

“Officer Peterson, now people can get nervous for a plethora of reasons, one of which is if you’re guilty.”

“N-nnnnn-nn o-o---oo--- sir, I’m nn—nnn--- o---t--- guuuiiilltty,” stammered the young man.

“Then why are you so nervous my boy? Just admit what you’ve done and we’ll give you a fair trial, and state that you cooperated in solving the case.”

“Iiiiiiitttt waaassssnnnn’t meeee!” insisted Peterson.

Felix brought his face up close to Peterson’s trembling head; “Then who was it?”

It was too much for the young officer and he fainted on the spot.

One of the investigators looked at Felix, shaking his head; “I don’t think it’s Peterson. He doesn’t seem to have the nerve to do anything as rash as hiding a murder weapon.”

Felix turned to the other four accused, all of which avoided eye contact with the high-ranking lieutenant. “I am going to count to ten, and if none of you confess to hiding the murder weapon, I will be forced to confine you each to the dark rooms for the remainder of the day.”

Felix’s threat fell upon deaf ears, so he started to count: “Ten, nine, eight, seven…” Several of the young men fidgeted uncomfortably. “Six, five, four…”

Finally one of the officers couldn’t stand it anymore. “It was Andy! I saw him sneak out of the locker room that same day.”

Andy stared daggers at the snitch and defended himself. “True, I was in the locker room but I didn’t hide that weapon. I was…calling my wife. I didn’t want to get in trouble so that’s why I didn’t say anything. But I had nothing to do with that weapon!”

As Felix checked the officer’s phone records, he was indeed on the phone during the exact time of the crime, proving he was not the culprit.

The last two accused were murmuring quietly to themselves before bobbing their heads in agreement. Felix turned to them, figuring the criminal must be one of them.

“Driscoll and Daniels. It appears you two are the only ones remaining. Now who hid the rifle in the locker?”

Driscoll spoke for the both of them. “We didn’t hide the weapon, but we did see who did.

“And who might that be,” said Felix, snorting.

“It was you, Sir.”

Suddenly, Felix had another vision, this time from the perspective of one of the wedding guests closest to the shooter. He could clearly see that the shooter was himself, holding the standard-issue rifle and wearing a black hoodie to try and cover his face. But the stubble beard, small nose and fiery eyes were undoubtedly himself, and for a second all his memories of what had happened returned.

Felix recovered, then took a staggered step back, shocked into silence.

He then remembered everything, why he was there, why he shot the groom, and why he hid the weapon. He sadly recalled what happened as he was handcuffed.

“The groom was fooling around with my wife Andrea, and one day I found out what they had been up to. I was so mad, I wanted to ruin his marriage like he had ruined mine. I took the rifle from the armoury and dashed in with the car before shooting Mr. Grey. Then I made my escape back to the department, hid the rifle and returned to my office as if nothing had happened. It was me all along.”

As officers led Felix away, he was put in the backseat of a cruiser and transported to the county jail where he awaited his court date. He used his visitation privilege to meet Andrea and Morrison behind a plexi-glass window, apologizing for his stupidity.

“Guys, I’m sorry for what I’ve done. It was rash and I was just…so angry. I let it get the better of me. So much for water over a duck’s back, eh?”

There was silence on the other end of the line, and he could just make out the sobs of Andrea on line.

“Dad, how long will you be gone? Will we be able to visit you?” Morrison sounded scared, as if everything he knew was crumbling apart.

“I’m afraid I’ll be away for a long time Bud, but we’ll talk and meet up once in a while.”

As Felix watched his family hang up the phone and walk away, he covered his face with his hands and sobbed, distressed over the mess he had made of his life.

He lay down on his hard mattress and dreamt one last time about the crime scene. This time he was the shooter, and he could clearly hear his voice shouting over the crowd. “Grey! You cheating dog! I’ll kill you for what you did!”

He brought the scope up to his eyes and sighted the groom, still rooted to the spot in fear, holding his bride’s hand in fright.

Then there was silence, every sound was muted and in slow motion. He could feel his finger pressing against the trigger for what seemed to be an eternity, before seeing the flash of the shot and the bullet flying towards the groom. Seeing the groom fall, he got back in his sedan and sped away, not knowing that the consequences of his actions would finally catch up to him eventually.