Corus and the Case of the Chaos Read online

  For Rudy. Best dog ever.

  ONE

  Chief Detective Corus slapped the aging vending machine. The bag of chips he’d paid seventy-five cents for clung to the mechanism like a kid on the monkey bars, taunting him. He gripped the top of the machine and violently shook it back and forth. The chips didn’t budge. He stepped back and considered himself in the glass, shoulders rising and falling as he huffed big breaths. It was like the whole world had come to this, slowly collapsing until it narrowed down to this one bag of chips. He kicked at his reflection. The glass quavered, but did not break. Corus let out a guttural yell and pulled out his service pistol.

  He shot once through his reflection. Shards of glass and potato exploded in all directions.

  When Deputy Rosen came around the corner, his pistol was drawn. Corus was slumped on the ground, his back resting on a recycling bin, munching loudly.

  Corus held up the mangled baggie. “Care for a chip?”

  TWO

  A long conference table stood in the center of the room. Along one side, sat four men and one woman in dress uniforms. The man seated left of center was wearing a civilian business suit. Surprisingly, he had conducted most of the questioning during the disciplinary hearing. After forty-five minutes of questioning, he once again leveled his ridiculous, bushy eyebrows across the table at Chief Det. Corus.

  “And you say that’s when your pistol misfired into the vending machine?”

  “Yes Vice Commissioner.” Corus kept his eyes cased in military fashion. The more trouble he was in, the more he tended to rely on the old habit. He focused on the rain dotting and streaking down the panel windows behind the disciplinary committee’s heads.

  “Ballistics indicated that the shot was aimed from shoulder height.”

  The Vice Commissioner paused to let the statement hang in the air. But Corus didn’t bite.

  “Well, what do you have to say to that Chief Detective?”

  “We all know that evidence can never lie, sir. Can it?” Corus moved his gaze from the window and burned a knowing look into Vice Commissioner Garvey’s face.

  Garvey narrowed his own eyes at Corus. He slowly recoiled back into his chair. Corus looked back to the window.

  Corus’ attorney leaned forward. “My client already explained that the shot came from shoulder height in his statement. He’s been through two psychiatric evals and both came back negative for any reason for distrust my client.”

  Sherriff Honchak, the tall, slender man with the white mustache, seated in the center of the row, spoke for the first time. “I’m afraid that’s not good enough.” He bent forward and folded his hands on the mahogany table. “Chief Detective Corus, I’m willing to humor an explanation here, if only for your exemplary service record. But, you need to be more forthcoming.”

  Corus dropped his gaze to the table and let out the smallest of sighs.

  He scratched behind an ear and took a breath. “Sheriff, the truth is a little embarrassing.”

  If the Sheriff was offering him an out, Corus was going to take it. All the eyes in the room were locked on him.

  “I was there to get a snack, and then I saw my reflection in the glass. I turned to the side and regarded myself as one does. I noticed that I had a little bit of a belly beginning to pop out and it made me wonder if I really ought to have that bag of chips.”

  The room was silent except for Deputy Commissioner Garvey clicking and unclicking his pen.

  “Before I knew it, I kind of drifted off into a daydream. I pulled my weapon and began posing this way and that. It was just a little amusement to break up the monotony of the paperwork. It had left me a little batty I guess. Then the gun went off.”

  The Sheriff leaned back in his chair and considered this. After a long pause, he furrowed his fine mustache. “Okay then.”

  Corus felt relief run through his whole body.

  “So what I need to figure out is what to do with you,” The Sheriff said. “We only worked together a short time, back when you were a deputy, but I’ve been over your file and your service has been exemplary since then. More than exemplary. You’ve earned pretty much every medal we give. You were the youngest to be given the rank of Chief Detective in seventy years, but your work lately has been shoddy at best. I fear this episode is indicative of a,” Sheriff Honchak unfolded his hands toward Corus, “...a larger pattern.” The Sheriff folded his hands again. “Your Lieutenant tried to defend you, but on paper it doesn’t look good. You’re trending downward.”

  Corus braced himself. He looked to the Lieutenant in question, a small, cherubic Chinese-American sitting at the far right end of the disciplinary panel. Lt. Chu’s expression gave Corus no comfort.

  Corus’ relief had been premature.

  “Obviously I’m referring especially to the Skokim Pass murder. Some cases go cold. I know that, but then there was Burien and Redmond after that. Three murder cases unsolved this year alone. And I’m not talking about some gangland drive-by shit. I’m talking upstanding citizens in good areas.”

  He meant white people of course, the kind that voted. Corus hoped there was a special place in hell for whoever decided what a bright idea it would be to have the senior lawman in a county be an elected official, a fucking politician. This sheriff was no rural officer writing out tickets for horse related infractions. He was responsible for policing the two million inhabitants of King County, Washington.

  “Something is wrong with you. The least bit that concerns me is what brought us here today. Do you have anything to say before we pass judgment?”

  Corus took a breath and exhaled. “I really am sorry Sheriff. For what it’s worth.” Corus had lied about why he shot, but he wouldn’t lie about how sorry he was for it and for his job performance these past months.

  County Vice Commissioner Garvey stood and pulled down the front of his suit jacket. His face under his bushy grey eyebrows was as sour as old milk. “You may leave the room while we deliberate,” he said firmly.

  Corus made to stand. His ass was just off the chair when Sheriff Honchak held up a hand. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Corus eased back down into his seat. Trepidation dotted his eyes.

  Sheriff Honchak folded his hands again. He waited for Garvey to sit back down before speaking. “You are hereby instructed to retake firearm safety.”

  Well that was a slap on the wrist.

  “You are also hereby demoted from the rank and pay grade of Chief Detective to the rank and pay grade of Deputy Inspector.”

  Corus swallowed hard, and a flush came over him.

  “And lastly, Inspector Corus,” the sheriff leaned his head back and stared down his nose, as if still deciding his fate, “lastly…you will receive no other assignments, no other casework…” Sheriff Honchak leveled his head, “…until your three open cases are prosecuted.”

  THREE

  “What are you so dour for?”

  The short and slightly chubby Lieutenant Chu struggled to keep up with the long strides of now Deputy Inspector Corus. “Sure, you got dropped two ranks, but you still got your job.”

  “Great.”

  Corus banged down on the push bar of a door and escaped the King County Sheriff’s Department headquarters into the rainy streets of Seattle. He paused on the sidewalk five steps away and lit a cigarette.

  Chu caught up. “I’m just saying it could be worse, man. I know you’re on hard times, but maybe just stay open. Let’s talk it out.”

  Corus struggled to keep the rain off his cigarette, but it fizzled out. He threw it into the street and exhaled the thin bit of smoke he’d managed to get.

  “Hey, you can’t liter in front of HQ,” Chu said. “It’s stuff
like this that gets you in trouble.” Chu’s look grew even more astounded. “Hey, you don’t even smoke!”

  Corus turned on his heel and walked.

  The heavy rain dampened the clip-clop of his stiff, previously-unworn dress shoes. Splashes sounded behind him and then Chu yelled. “Ah jeepers!”

  Corus looked back.

  Lt. Chu was standing ankle deep in a puddle. He hopped on one foot, as he took off his sodden shoe and tipped the water out. Corus walked away. Chu was resolute, though. He limped up next to him still holding his shoe and grabbed him by the elbow. Corus stopped and Chu came around to face him.

  “Gosh dang it. Would you just stop?” Chu looked into Corus’ eyes. Corus knew they’d be as dark from his emotions as his complexion. “Would you just give me a break? Huh? Give your old pal a gosh-danged break. Let’s duck into this place. Don’t make me order you.”

  It hurt that Chu cared so much.

  “I guess I could use a beer. I’m no good at smoking.”

  A plucky waitress came to the table. Chu ordered a raspberry hefeweizen. Corus ordered a strong, dark lager. He soaked up the dark of the poorly lit corner. Three pool tables stood in the center of the room between Corus and the door, still and empty like green, felt battlements guarding him from the outside world. Corus pretended to check the news app on his phone while they waited. Anything that might stall off Lt. Chu’s ministrations.

  Their beers arrived, and Chu took a long, careful sip that left a foamy mustache on his upper lip. Coupled with his youthful glow and round face, it made him look like a nine-year-old in a police costume. He tittered, “Ooh! That’s yummy!”

  Corus took a long drag from his beer, feeling somewhat comforted by the cool, heavy tastes of bitter coffee and chocolate. He sensed Chu gearing up to speak, so he took another quick pull.

  “Corus, I know you’re a man of few words. But I gotta get inside you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “In that brain of yours. It’s obviously a bees’ nest and has been for months. You either open up to me now or I’ll have no choice but to send you to the psychologist.”

  Corus furrowed his eyebrows with a sideways tilt of his head.

  “Hey,” Chu said, raising both hands, “it’s for your own protection. One more mess-up and you’re off the force. I already lost you until you solve these open cases. You think I want to lose you forever?”

  “I’m sorry L-T.”

  “Alright then,” Chu said with a nod. “You just haven’t been yourself ever since Karen went to prison. I mean, you seemed ok at first, but now…”

  “She did the crime. Now she’s paying for it.”

  “Ok, but—”

  “You’re whittling on the wrong branch.”

  “All this and you’re telling me you don’t have an axe to grind?”

  “It’s like I said. The wheels keep turning. They’ve been turning the wrong way for a while. I’m not happy about it, but it’s physics. I coped because I had to, and more so, it all added up. You start a cock-fighting ring with your book club and you get caught.”

  Chu’s expression was disbelieving.

  “I can tell you care, L-T. I know people don’t think I care, but I do. Maybe too much. Maybe for the first time.” He ran a hand over his dark hair. He knew it was a tad too long to be military anymore, like a shadow grown longer than the tree that cast it. He drew his hand down hard over dark brows and eyes sunken from lack of sleep, over a previously broken nose that curved to the left slightly, over thin lips and a hard jaw.

  He felt completely out of control.

  “What happened then?” Chu asked, with keen disappointment in his voice. “Where did that steely gaze lose its edge?”

  Corus hadn’t talked about it. This was the first time he felt that he might be willing. Tears threatened to bust out in a riot of despair. He lowered his head and heaved a great sigh, hoping if he cowed to the sadness a bit, the tears would back off.

  “It’s Jenny. She…she died.”

  “Oh, my God. That’s terrible.”

  Chu ventured a soft hand out to grasp Corus’. Despite himself, Corus found the gesture comforting.

  “I’m so sorry, Corus.” He waited a long moment. “But, if I may, you’ve been…different, for some time now.”

  Corus gave a slow nod and looked up. “She died nine months ago, the week before the Skokim Pass case.”

  “Oh, my gosh,” Chu said pitifully. “And you never said anything? To anyone?”

  Corus shook his head and took back his hand. He wasn’t a hard drinking man, but he picked up his beer and drained it in three long swallows and ran a hand across his mouth. “Didn’t see the point.”

  “But you’re a criminal investigator. You’ve seen the worst of the worst. What about your dog dying has upset you so much?”

  “Jenny wasn’t a dog…”

  Chu tilted his head.

  “Okay, she was a dog,” Corus admitted. “But…”

  Lt. Chu would never understand. Corus sure didn’t.

  Chu nodded with soft eyes. “My dog died when I was fifteen,” he said with a placating tone. “It was harder than when my grandmother died. To make it even worse, the neighbor kids taunted me when they found out. Asked me if we ate him. You know, ‘cause we’re Chinese.”

  “I thought you grew up around other Asians in Mercer.”

  “Kids are cruel all over. Who knows better how to make fun of a Chinese kid than other Chinese kids?”

  A quiet moment passed. Corus held up his empty glass for the waitress to see. She smiled and shot him a thumbs-up.

  “I just don’t get it, Corus. Help me understand. Is it the grief? I won’t judge.”

  “It must be grief. I don’t know if I’ve ever done it before.”

  “Listen to you, Corus. You don’t do grief. It happens to you. It’s a process. But how could you be grieving for the first time when you’ve seen such horrors? War, murders…lost your family even?”

  “I guess…I guess this time it just didn’t make sense.”

  “Did she die in a mysterious fashion?”

  “No, but Yes.” Corus accepted the fresh beer from the waitress and took a sip. “That’s just it. She was 13. She seemed a little sluggish one night before bed. Then the next morning…” Corus had to fight back the tears and the large stone forcing its way up his throat. “There was no reason. There was no crime. She just went.”

  “It wasn’t her fault,” Chu said, finding the thread. “Or anyone’s fault.”

  Corus nodded. “No case to solve.” He furrowed his brow, gazing on some speck in the table. “None but the ultimate question: why?”

  “Why?”

  “Why is there life if there is death? How can it be enjoyed when nothingness waits to greet it?”

  “Oh, don’t go all Goth Kid on me. It’s not all bad.”

  “It’s not the death that kills me. I’ve seen a hundred vics and fallen soldiers, some who were my friends. They were all dead because somebody killed them. Even the ones at the wrong place at the wrong time. Even the accidents. Man goes to clean gun, forgets it’s loaded, tries disassemble it…boom. Man goes to repair his wiring, forgets the breaker is on…zap. Reason. Cause and effect.”

  “Bodies grow old and perish. That’s cause and effect.”

  “That’s entropy. That is the exact opposite of order.” He looked down at the foamy dregs in his glass. “A beautiful pup. A beautiful life, snuffed out because it had the audacity to exist one day too long.”

  “I think we may need to get you that counseling, Corus.”

  Corus shook his head. “This isn’t about my emotions, L-T. It’s deeper.”

  Chu took another sip of his fruity beer, appearing to consider the matter. “Corus, you’re the smartest guy I ever met. If it isn’t emotional, then you’ll figure it out.”

  “I’m really not. I was a good soldier in the field because I always had a second sight. The best detective because I could always see the hole
in the wall the mouse ran through, especially when others couldn’t. But now, it’s like whatever second sense, whatever second sight I had was extinguished. I’m flat. I’m a collapsed lung.”

  The two men sat in silence for a long time. Corus could tell Chu was distressed by his woes. That’s what he’d feared would await him on the other side of telling. He couldn’t bear being the victim. He certainly couldn’t bear being a victim when he had no one to accuse.

  “So, the great and mighty Corus isn’t broken? Merely human?”

  “Afraid so.”

  A quiet moment passed.

  “I’m gonna help you any way I can, Corus. Maybe a case will straighten out your ennui.”

  “What are my other options?”

  FOUR

  The moment Corus accepted he was going to try and solve the open cases, a wash of new realities overcame him. He sat parked outside the 3rd precinct of the King County Sheriffs’ Office, hands on the wheel, head bowed between his arms.

  “Noooooooooo!” He let out another long moan and struggled to find the will to enter the building. The unimaginable had happened.

  Pineda now outranked him.

  “Nooooooooo…”

  Two beers hadn’t been enough for what he was about to endure.

  He stepped out of his SUV and popped the rear hatch. An unopened bottle of Jameson lay inside the spare tire. It had been there for two months since Jim Cummins’ retirement party. Corus wasn’t a hard liquor man, but times were tough. He looked around the parking lot before taking a hearty drink. He coughed, spat and tucked the bottle back where he found it before going inside.

  “Oh, how the mighty have been brought low. Uh oh. Better hide your Ho-Hos and Sun Chips!”

  Corus entered a 1500 square foot space cluttered with desks, cubicles, copiers and water coolers. It was by one of these water coolers that Detective Pineda stood rocking back and forth on his heels. “Inspector Corus has an axe to grind with snacks.” Pineda wore a short, unkempt beard that crept too far down his neck. His yellow shirt mingled with the greyish brown tone of his skin to give him a sickly appearance. He hooked a thumb into his suspenders and smiled wide. “Deputy Inspector…” he mused as Corus passed by. “Remind me. Is that above or below the rank of Detective?”