A Beautiful Day for a Cruise

Chapter One: WTF?

Walter turned his pickup onto Avers avenue, the street he and his wife had bought a house on some 32 years ago. They had settled in Chicago’s Albany Park neighborhood. Sadly, when their eldest son Jack turned nine Isabel decided being a mother was too much of a burden. In reality drinking Pinot Noir in the afternoon was the burden, Isabel drained $7,000 from the family checking account and went west some twenty years ago.

Isabel had blessed Walter with two beautiful boys. Jack was 29 and had settled down in Colorado with his girlfriend. Benji was like many millennials, slow to launch, and still lived with Walter at the age of 27. Walter and Benji enjoyed playing cards and other board games most nights but tonight Benji was on a date.

Walter pulled into his driveway at 10:07 PM CST, Thursday October 29, 2019. There was a pumpkin on the front landing of his brick “Chicago-style” bungalow. Halloween was the day after tomorrow after all. Walter smiled as he thought of all the trick or treaters he was sure to get; how Jack and Benji had loved trick or treating as kids! Walter opened the door of his 2010 pickup and hopped down from the cab onto the driveway. The driveway was older than the house, pure concrete, probably would last forever...

“Bang… Bang… Bang!”

A searing hot pain shot through Walter’s chest, his abdomen became overwhelmed by the coagulation of a warm wet substance; he gazed down and discovered his entire front torso was covered in blood…

“What the Fuck!” Walter screamed as he spun around to face the sound of gunfire, “BANG...BANG...BANG…” Walter’s body jerked violently as each bullet ripped through the soft tissue in his chest, he howled in pain as bullets shattered bone. Walter collapsed in a heap, seizing and writhing violently. “What the fuck…” were Walter’s last thoughts as the consciousness slowly left his body.

A silent shadow emerged from the darkness around Walter, the shadow patted him down, reached into his pocket, grabbed his wallet, then darted away. The squealing of tires on fresh asphalt pierced the calm fall night, then all was black. Walter did not wake up.

Chapter 2: Detective Harris

Detective Harris had served in the Chicago PD for over a decade. He actually started off his career as an Accountant, practicing as a tax accountant for a curmudgeon of a man Wiley A Stevens. Shuffling numbers around seemed shallow to Detective Harris, especially when old Wiley got the notion to keep him at the office until 11:00 at night reconciling bank statements. Hunting down bad guys had proven an exponentially more fulfilling career path than playing with spreadsheets all day.

Detective Harris arrived on Avers Avenue on Chicago’s northside at 7:53 AM, Friday October 30, 2019. He stepped out of his undercover Town Car and made a beeline for the crowd of cops blocking off the driveway of an all brick Chicago bungalow.

“Harris, about time you showed up!” Sergeant Kelly yelled through a broad smile. Kelly and Harris were like brothers after serving ten years in the force together, they had even graduated in the same class at the Academy.

“Haha, thanks for doing all the bitch work for me, now step aside for the professional…” Harris jovially patted Kelly’s shoulder en route to the “scene of the crime”.

“Honestly, case is pretty much closed here chief,” Kelly said, “this dude got home from work and got whacked by his son. We just got off the phone with Mount Sinai Hospital and they admitted the son, Benji, a few hours ago. He was high as a kite apparently and collapsed at a bar.”

“So the kid killed his father over some drug money?” Detective Harris scowled.

“Yessir, body was wiped clean of the wallet, we also already got confirmation that $500 was withdrawn from the deceased’s bank via an ATM withdrawal at 10:40 PM, about 30 minutes after shit hit the fan.” Sergeant Kelly grinned; it wasn’t common for crimes to get solved but when a dumbass druggie leaves bread crumbs justice is swiftly served.

“You certainly make my job easy, you’re gonna be a Detective any day now!” Harris grinned as he shook his friend’s hand.

Kelly smiled broadly, “I’m gonna take your job buddy…” he mused, the pair laughed raucously.

Harris assessed the scene. Serving in Chicago PD for over a decade meant he had seen some shit. In one instance, a nine year old girl had been watching the newest Disney movie with her family when a gangbanger decided to lob 30 rounds from an AK-47 to assassinate her brother. The little girl didn’t even have time to blink by the time a 7.62 x 39 mm round entered and exited her frontal cortex, depositing the young girl’s understanding of long division on the opposite wall. Harris had cried like a baby when he returned home from working on that tragedy.

Walter, a 58 year old white male lay in a heap in the driveway. Blood resembled a trickling stream down the driveway, funneling into the street. The hit looked to be strictly business, Walter was shot three times in the back and three times in the front. Judging by the blood splatter the gunman had been at close range, probably no more than ten feet for the last three rounds. Harris squatted in the driveway and pondered.

“I’ll have to question the son and review the latest bank transactions.” Detective Harris thought; “this certainly does seem like an open and shut case, maybe I’ll have time for a round of beers before going home.”

“Hey Kelly, did the deceased have any personal effects?” Harris asked.

“The body was mostly picked clean, but we found his phone inside the house. No sign of his wallet though, we are assuming it was stolen.” Kelly explained.

“Could I get that phone, I need to analyze that. Looks like you’ve got everything handled here, I will go question Benji." Detective Harris stood up and took in a deep breath, "Impeccable work Kelly, thank you!”

“Anytime boss!” Kelly smiled and saluted, Harris saluted back and placed the cell phone in his jacket pocket.

Chapter 3: Benji

“Doc! C’mon, let me outta here!” Benji bellowed from his hospital bed. A red circle of blood had started to form around his wrist where he was handcuffed to a hospital bed. An ear splitting headache and a bleeding wrist, what a beautiful start to the day...

Knock... knock... someone at the door.

“Come in.” Benji said.

The hospital door opened and in walked a Chicago Police officer in full uniform, the officer nodded in greeting to Benji and motioned toward a shrewd looking man who had beady eyes that poked through thick glasses with unassuming black frames. The man resembled an accountant save for a badge attached to the front lapel of his jacket; the badge clearly identified the man as a member of Chicago PD.

“Good morning Benji, my name is Detective Harris. How’re ya doing?”

“Detective?” Benji was perplexed, the other officer saluted Detective Harris and briskly exited the room, closing the door behind him. “What the hell are cops doing here?”

“Cops tend to be interested when people get admitted into hospitals with large amounts of drugs in their systems. Are you sobering up a bit?” Harris inquired.

“Drugs? I don’t do drugs, I mean unless you count alcohol, my father definitely considers alcohol a drug. Damn stuff drove mom away from us.” Benji shook his head in confusion, “Hey, can I borrow your phone? I’ve got to call my pops, he’ll straighten this out. Obviously you pigs are sniffing the wrong rabbit hole.”

“Call your father?” Harris was careful not to act surprised. Was this man pulling a fast one or did he genuinely have no recollection of last night? Humoring the suspect seemed to be the best course. “Certainly, here’s my phone, go ahead and call your father.” Harris handed his phone to the patient who awkwardly grabbed the phone with his left hand; his right hand was firmly locked to the bed.

The phone hummed for several seconds then went to voicemail.

“He’s usually up by now. Maybe he doesn’t recognize the number. Any chance you have my phone, doughnut boy?”

“Actually Benji, it is with tremendous regret that I must inform you that your father is dead.”

“Dead! There’s no way! What happened? Heart attack? Jesus, if only I hadn’t gone to the bar last night, maybe I could have called 911!” Benji began to break down, the shock was too much, he began to weep uncontrollably while swearing in between tears, he resembled a grieving widow at a funeral with a severe case of turrets.

Something didn’t feel right. Benji was either a Grammy award winning actor or he had no idea what had happened to his father. Harris’s gut pointed to the latter. He’d question Benji again after he had time to mourn, for now he wished the poor kid the best and offered his utmost condolences.

Chapter 4: The Phone

Was this kid an actor? Benji didn’t seem like a druggie, sure he had been admitted to Mt. Sinai high as a kite, but maybe someone drugged him? Harris called Benji’s employer and found out Benji was a forklift operator and was regularly tested for drugs as a condition of employment. It seemed far fetched that he would gun his father down for $500 on a whim.

Harris gazed out the windshield marveling at the concrete structure that was Mt. Sinai Hospital. A sprawling complex, Mt. Sinai held a uniquely Chicagoan charm: the hospital treated more gunshot wounds annually than any other in the US. Harris shook his head and laughed, what a town.

Harris pondered the recent developments when his gaze caught Walter’s phone in the cup holder of the center console.

It was a black iPhone. Harris swiped to unlock the phone expecting to need a password, luckily Walter was trusting enough and didn’t have one. There weren’t many apps, not surprising considering the victim was 58 years old. Harris scrolled until something caught his eye at the bottom of the screen.

“Grindr”

“The gay hookup app?” Harris thought, “Damn, Walter apparently was a swinger.” He chuckled as he clicked to open the app. Logging in via Google, the secret life of Walter was open like a buffet.

There were a couple of contacts that warranted attention. One contact was named “Bottom Bitch” another was “Femboy Need <<<8”.

“Hey at least they are honest about what they’re looking for. Maybe I wouldn’t be divorced if I was gay!” Harris chuckled under his breath.

“Bottom Bitch” had recent messages:

“Fuck you old man! How could you tell anyone? This will ruin me! You’ll pay for this!” Bottom Bitch

“What are you talking about? I barely know you, calm down.” Walter had responded.

“You’ll pay for this old man! I’m not gay, this could ruin my life!” Bottom Bitch.

Well that’s suspicious, Detective Harris mused as he scrolled through the rest of the conversation history. There was no address listed for “Bottom Bitch”, however there were several pictures of a young man on a yacht christened “Bottoms Up”. The yacht appeared to be parked in Montrose Harbor. Hopefully “Bottom Bitch” hadn’t pulled his boat out of the water for the season, Detective Harris started his engine and began the drive to Montrose Harbor.

Chapter 5: The Harbor

The drive to Montrose Harbor winds along the beautiful Chicago shoreline. Lake Shore Drive, a highway usually bogged down by millions of disgruntled Chicagoans en route to their 9-5 jobs, was wide open. Detective Harris did not miss those days of slowly losing his soul in an office.

The Montrose exit came up in no time. The harbor looked nearly empty with only a couple boats lingering. Most boaters had been preparing for the long Chicago winter and had battened down the hatches and moved their toys to winter storage. Harris parked and began to walk up and down the docks checking the names of boats. October air was crisp with autumn winds that swirled the textures of Lake Michigan into a delightful mist that kissed his cheeks. Harris took a deep breath and enjoyed the moment. As he exhaled his eyes fixated on a 27 foot white yacht with chrome trim along the bow. Affixed to the stern was the name “Bottoms Up”.

“Bottoms Up, indeed.” Harris mumbled under his breath as he cautiously walked up to the boat.

“Ahoy aboard! Anyone home?” Harris decided he would play the part of a concerned Police Officer encouraging procrastinating boaters to move their boats to winter storage. Hopefully someone was home.

The door leading below deck cracked open and a young man shouted out “Whattup?”

“Hi sir, I am making the rounds for the Chicago PD to make sure all of the boats are out of the harbor for the season. Don’t want to waste department money digging you out of the ice if there’s early ice come November!” Harris chuckled as he finished his lie.

The young man flung open the door to his yacht, “thank you for the concern officer! I actually am in the process of winterization. Would you like to come aboard for a tour? I run charter cruises in the summer if your department is looking for an outing!”

Detective Harris was delighted that his ruse was working. Snooping around a potential crime scene for evidence (the missing wallet possibly) sounded like a dream come true. No warrant required.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Harris clambered aboard the vessel. “Quite a craft you have here. Do you mind me asking what you do to afford this?”

The young man grinned, “I’m a Bitcoin millionaire, money and a yacht make getting laid wicked easy!”

“Wow, well good for you son. I’m Officer Harris by the way.” Detective Harris extended his hand toward the young man, the man was wearing a blue surfer t-shirt, khaki shorts and flip flops even though it couldn’t be more than fifty degrees Fahrenheit. The man was skinny but strong as an ox judging by his figure. His face was boyish and bright green eyes gave way to tufts of brown hair that lay uncombed on the top of his head.

“It’s a pleasure sir, anything for our boys in blue, my name is Robert.” Robert firmly shook the Detective’s hand. “I’ll give you the nickel tour!” Robert gestured for Harris to enter the boat’s main cabin through the refinished oak door on the stern of the boat.

Harris shrugged and against protocol allowed genuine curiosity to overcome him. He trudged through the door and made his way into what was essentially a frat house on water. There was a door ajar at the other end of the yacht that led to a King Size bed. In the main cabin beer cans were strewn haphazardly on the floor.

“You don’t drive this boat while drinking, do you…?” Harris drifted off as THUMP! A fire extinguisher connected flush with the back of his skull. Harris’ spun around, reaching for his service pistol, the eyes of the young man had changed from green to black as coal, a devilish grin had replaced the boyish smirk that had been there only seconds before. Pure evil exuded from the hellish cackling that pierced the calmness of the harbor.

Thump… Thump… Thump… The barrage continued. The Detective’s head was reminiscent of a Jack-O-Lantern that had been thrown from a porch, except blood and bone replaced orange pulp. Two eyes blankly stared up from the goo; utter confusion and terror filled those eyes.

Robert was straddling Detective Harris with the fire extinguisher poised above his victim’s head. He tossed the weapon aside, “Harbor patrol, my ass. You're following up on Walter you bacon loving asshole!!!”

Robert patted down the Detective, searching for evidence. His hand discovered the silhouette of not one, but two phones in the Detective’s jacket pocket.

Robert cackled with glee! Walter’s phone, the missing piece of his elaborate plan. He hadn’t counted on the old man leaving his phone in the house and had been dreading a police visit all day considering the phone’s illicit content. Now the tell tale heart was firmly in his possession. Judging by the lack of back up or sirens, his gamble of killing the officer may have paid off.

Robert practically floated to the bow to retrieve a bed sheet. His heart was fluttering at the promise of freedom. Humming as he worked, Robert wrapped up the Rambo-wannabe policeman in the sheet and proceeded to take the wheel of his vessel. The forecast called for rain tonight but with this lucky streak he would have sailed full steam into a monsoon.

“Bottoms Up” exited Montrose Harbor and headed out over the horizon of Lake Michigan. A strong Lake Michigan breeze whirled around and tickled Robert’s cheeks until they glistened a bright red. Not a worry in the world burdened the young man’s spirit, even as clouds engulfed the Chicago skyline.

A beautiful day for a cruise….