Trust Me by Dan Leicht

Trust Me by Dan Leicht
A Charles Splints Case

Halfway through ironing a white shirt using the bottom of a hot frying pan, there was a knock at my door. I pulled the shirt over my shoulders and dropped the pan into the sink on my way over.

The man through the peephole wore a long black coat that ran all the way to his knees. I cracked it open as far as I could with the chain still attached.

“You live here?” I asked.

“Are you Charles Splints?”

“This isn’t a game show. Answer the question. How’d you get in? I didn’t buzz anybody.”

“Ah, that. A neighbor of yours was heading out as I arrived. I hope I’m not intruding.”

“You are.” I went to close the door, but he stuck his fingers into the open space.

“If I could just have a moment of your time. I’m Gerald Higgins. You see, a friend of mine was murdered two weeks ago on the 15^th of November, and the police haven’t been able to solve it. Perhaps you could find something they missed? I hear you’re the best. I can pay.”

I rolled my eyes and removed the latch.

He sat on the couch with his legs crossed and a mischievous grin. Underneath his coat he wore a brown suit and a yellow tie. A diamond encrusted clip held his tie in place. His hair, or what was left of it, was sandy blond and slicked to the side by a fine-tooth comb.

“What can you tell me about the case?” I asked. “I can’t get running without a starter pistol.”

“Aren’t you going to offer me something to drink?”

“No.”

“Fair enough. You weren’t expecting company. How about a glass of water?”

“I’m no barkeep. Now, tell me what I need to know.”

“Fine… fine. My friend, Oscar King, was murdered. The police found the body just last week. I’m terribly heartbroken over the whole ordeal. They went over the clues, made a file or something, I’m sure, but they couldn’t figure out who murdered him.”

“I’m going to need more than that. Where did he work? How about the names of some family? Toss in his favorite color if you know it.”

“Very well. Do you have a pen?”

“No.” 

& & &

After my new employer left, I grabbed my coat and headed out to the pavement.

Gerald’s friend worked at the deli across town. I’d been there a few times in the past, but their cuts never lasted more than a couple days in the refrigerator. It wasn’t worth the price when the meat turned green before I could eat it.

When I reached the joint, I noticed the man inside turning the sign to closed. I tapped on the glass and hoped for a change of heart. He grinned, perhaps hoping for a final sale. I’d have to oblige.

“Welcome, welcome,” said the owner. “I’m about to close, but I’ll always open the door for a paying customer.”

“How kind,” I replied, my tone dry and my wallet annoyed. “Turkey.” I fished around my pocket and pulled out some lose change. “Three bucks and… seventy-seven cents worth.”

“We have a special today on the roast beef. Half off.”

I spotted the roast beef behind the glass with its emerald edges.

“I’ll pass.”

As he cut the meat I strolled around the place. It was no bigger than my apartment, which wasn’t saying much.

“Say, did a guy named Oscar used to work here?”

“Oscar? Oh yeah. It’s a shame what happened to him. Good kid. I wanted to hand this store over to him someday. Of course, I never told him that. You can’t go around giving your employees big heads. And boy oh boy did Oscar have an ego.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

I kept him going, despite his voice sounding like nails clacking against a ceramic floor.

“Fancied himself a singer. You know, old school type. Lounge singer I guess they’re called. He’d croon around here once in a while, but mostly he’d just talk about how he was going to hit it big someday. I never bought a ticket to his shows, but you’d better believe I’m kicking myself now. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure he had a show the night of his murder, heck if I know where it was, though. I forgot to mention that to the badges when they stopped by, but they should know that kind of thing, right?” I shrugged, then reluctantly nodded. I wasn’t in the business of giving the BCPD a bad name. “He was something, though. A real treasure. Once in a lifetime kind of talent, you know?”

“That’s a shame. I would’ve bought his album.”

“Me too.” He bagged the meat and tossed it on the scale. “Four bucks even.”

“I don’t have four.”

He rolled his eyes and pulled a couple slices out and stuffed them into his mouth.

“Three…” he paused, probably trying to remember the exact amount of money I had so he could take all of it, “seventy-eight.”

“Seventy-seven.”

“That’ll do.” He took my cash and didn’t even bother with the take-a-penny-leave-a-penny tray.

“What else can you tell me about Oscar?”

“Why the interest?”

“I’m just a fan is all.”

“Good guy. It’s troubling how they found him. Dead in his shed of an apartment with a big ex spray-painted across his chest.”

I furrowed my brow. Gerald hadn’t mentioned that detail to me.

“That’s odd,” I said. “Where did he live?” 

& & &

He wasn’t kidding when he said the kid lived in a shed.

Placed outside the Wagoner apartment building was a shed no bigger than a cubicle in a stuffy high-rise office building. Plastic shell on the outside, painted over to look like a barn if anything at all. It’d been locked from the outside, probably by the police, but that didn’t take more than a few seconds to pick and chuck.

The inside of the “apartment” was cluttered. I couldn’t blame the kid, since he didn’t have much of a choice given the amount of space. The cool night air from the outside permeated the walls and trapped itself inside. If there was any insulation at all, it wasn’t doing anything. I spotted a space heater and flipped it on, but his power had been shut off, so I rubbed my mitts together.

His walls were decorated with blown up pictures of himself presumably singing his heart out. I scanned the pictures to see if I could make out any of the locations, but this is a big city and crooners, although good, just don’t fit my scene. Dive bars don’t have the best acoustics.

Sitting in the front of a few of the pictures was someone wearing a brown herringbone newsboy cap, the bill of the cap covering his eyes. A friend or an admirer?

On the nightstand sat a calendar, with each month a different scene from a popular nineties’ movie. He’d written his show schedule on each day he performed and… the locations.

November 15th, the night of his murder, he performed at… 

& & &

The Midnight Showcase. Shows starting at 6:00 pm. I pulled the watch with the busted strap from my coat pocket and checked the time. Nearly midnight. I wondered if the name had anything to do with the schedule.

I reached for the push bar on the door. Open. I went inside.

Smoke rings lofted into the air as men and women stuck in the past lounged about in tobacco scented chairs and booths. The guy onstage did his best impression of someone with confidence while the barkeep mixed drinks in the back. I saddled up and waved him over.

“Need a menu?” he asked.

“Just a glass.” I pointed to a bottle with amber liquid on the bottom shelf. “Make it a double.”

“We don’t take kindly to cheapskates here,” he replied. “Besides, that’s reserved for the boss.”

Oh, the irony.

“Fine.” I raised my finger a bit higher. “I’ll take a single.”

He rolled his eyes then went about his duties. I turned my attention to the crowd, looking for a brown herringbone newsboy cap. No such luck. Wasn’t like I had anywhere else to be.

“Barkeep,” I said. “I’ll take a look at a menu.”

He found a grin after that.

“Want to hear the specials?” He placed a leather-bound tomb in front of me. I opened it and scanned the appetizers. “First we have—”

“I’ll do an order of fries and a dinner roll.”

“What kind of order is that?”

“Look pal,” I raised my glass, “I just need something to coat my stomach so I can sit here a while longer.”

Another eye roll. He took the menu and retreated to the kitchen.

A few minutes later I had a plate of fries and a roll in front of me. I pulled the deli meats from my coat and placed the bag on the bar. I opened the bag and went to pull out a slice only to realize the cuts had grown slimy. I raised the bag up to the light to get a better look.

“Green. Great.” I tossed the bag onto the counter and wiped my hands on a bar napkin.

Fries and whiskey. Bottoms up. 

The barkeep eyed the roll on the otherwise empty plate. He then picked up the bag of meat and gagged.

“I’d avoid the deli on Eighth,” I said.

“You’re an odd one,” he replied. “What is it you want, anyway? You keep shaking your head anytime Tony holds a note for longer than two seconds. I can tell you can’t stand him. So why stay?”

“I’m expecting someone.”

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“A regular. You might know him. He wears a brown newsboy cap.”

“Newsboy… I’ve seen him. Lousy tipper. Makes sense he’d be a friend of yours.”

“I pay up when the tab is due, you’ll see. Do you happen to know his name?”

“You don’t know your own pal’s name?”

“We met at a bar, and I didn’t catch it.”

“Jerry. I don’t know the last name.” He fetched a glass to tend to with a rag as he spoke. “He was a big fan of Oscar’s. Poor kid.”

“You knew Oscar?”

“He was one of our best. This place was too small time for him, we could all see that. We couldn’t pay him much, either. He’d still show up every Friday and perform. When Friday rolled around and he didn’t show, I grinned ear to ear. I figured he’d caught his big break and booked a bigger stage.”

“Wishful thinking,” I replied. “Sounds like he was a hopeful kid.”

“He had hope coming out his ears.”

“Hope isn’t worth a thing without action behind it.”

“Sometimes it’s the only thing people can afford. It’s a real shame he’s gone. I heard it was some serial killer. Spray paints an ex on the chest of each victim. Real twisted stuff if you ask me.”

“Thanks for the drink and conversation…”

“Phil,” he replied.

“Thanks, Phil.” I dropped enough singles on the bar to pay for my drink and the cheap meal twice over. “Does this kid on stage now have any admirers?”

“Not that I know of.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Hey, aren’t you waiting for Jerry?”

“I don’t think he’s going to show. I just hope he isn’t admiring someone else right now.” 

& & &

Gerald hadn’t mentioned he was a fan of Oscar. Matter of fact, he kept a lot of details about his dear friend a secret from me. Why would he do that?

I got into bed and shut my eyes. The rhythmic snoring of my neighbor through the thin wall made my skin crawl. If I wanted to get a wink in bed, I’d have to go to bed early or go to bed loaded. Neither factor was on my side, so I grabbed my pillow and made for the couch.

Before I could sit down and have a long talk with the sandman, there was a knock at my door.

I cracked it open just enough to see Gerald standing in the hallway with a backpack over his shoulders.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“I’m worried about my friend,” he replied. “Did you discover anything new about the case?”

“I have a feeling your friend isn’t going anywhere. I don’t know what you have in that bag, but you’re not staying over. Now get out of here and get some sleep.”

“You disappoint me.” His voice crawled under my skin more than my neighbor’s snoring. “I was told you were the best. I wanted to see it for myself. How was the show tonight? Did you enjoy Raymond’s signing?”

“You were following me?” I shook my head. “It was so obvious I didn’t want to admit it.”

“What was that? You were mumbling.”

“Go home. I’ll pop by your place in the morning.”

He cocked his head side to side like a confused pigeon.

“I never told you where I live.” The words slithered down my spine.

“Like you said, I’m the best there is.”

“A connection at the police station told you.”

“Maybe.”

“Did you follow me home?”

My neighbor Al ripped open his door. He stood there in his underpants, his finger to the side of his nose as he snorted air through his deviated septum. A string of drool dripped over his bottom lip. “Would you two keep it down?” he had the nerve to say. “I’m trying to sleep.” He slammed his door shut with the same vigor he’d opened it with.

I shook my head and sighed.

“Listen, I have better things to do than pop by someone’s home unannounced. Now get lost. You’ll hear from me tomorrow.”

I went to shut the door, and he threw his whole body into it. The chain popped off and I went flying over the couch, knocking my arm on the coffee table in the process.

“You’ll regret that,” I said. I went to get up and collapsed as I tried to put weight on my left arm. “You sack of—”

A boot to the face and I was on the ground again, this time tasting blood. He shut the door and removed his bag. He pulled out a role of duct-tape and a pair of pliers.

“Go home… do you think I’m dim?” he said. “You would’ve had the cops waiting for me there.”

“I wasn’t positive until you showed up here,” I replied. I wiped my nose. He’d nearly broken it. “I was going to sleep on it. Make sure I had all the facts straight. But here you are, serving yourself up. Gerald Higgins. Or do you prefer Jerry? If you have your cap hidden somewhere in your coat you may as well toss it upstairs and hide that hairline of yours. What is it? An ego thing? You find the best of the best in their field and take them out? What does that prove? Why not go after other serial killers?”

“Who’s to say I haven’t?” he replied. He picked up the tape and yanked off a strip. “Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

“You’ll find I don’t like taking orders.”

He served up another boot and I caught him just before he could hit my jaw. I twisted his ankle as hard as I could until I heard a pop, then I toppled him to the ground with a shove.

The pliers struck me in the jaw as I gathered myself and got to my feet. A lucky throw.

“I’m too tired for this,” I said, staggering. I grabbed him by the collar with my right hand and hoisted him up to his feet before shoving him against the wall. “You should’ve let me sleep on it.”

“They always fight back,” he said, his words gasping for air. “Every time. Nobody has ever gotten this far. Go on. Finish the job.”

“I’m no killer.”

“We both know that isn’t true.”

I tossed him into the coffee table, breaking it in the process. He tried to get up, but as he gathered himself on all fours, I landed my foot square into his back and sent him to the sandman.

A knock at my door broke me out of the adrenaline-fueled fury.

“Shut up!” shouted Al. “Some of us work for a living!”

& & &

After the cops took Jerry away, I shut my eyes just as the sun crested the skyline.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Dan Leicht 2026

Source Image: Dey from Fictom.com