Lizard

The other officers called him “Lizard,” but Detective Jake Hedrick didn’t mind. The name was not a reference to his looks, but to his refined ability to slither inside the tightest legal loopholes and come out with the truth. He solved more homicide cases and obtained more convictions than any detective in the city’s history. No officer in any Texas police agency was responsible for more life sentences and lethal injections than Lizard. Judges, prosecutors and defense attorneys talked about him as if he were a mythical god.

His supervisors left him alone. They excluded Lizard from the monthly case reviews the other detectives endured. He didn’t have to explain what he had done or had not done on any particular case, nor was he questioned about undeveloped leads. Lieutenant Hargrove simply handed him a case and let him go. He read Hedrick’s subsequent reports and sent them up the line to the captain, who passed them on to Chief Hanson. Never did the reports come back to Hedrick for clarification. He was that good.

Most of the homicide boys knew Lizard had something going with Gloria Swan, the long-legged brunette in records. The fact that they were both married made the issue uglier than it would have been otherwise. But no one said anything. They needed Lizard, and they didn’t want to lose him to a transfer or demotion just because of an illicit affair. The unit had an admirable reputation, due in no small part to Lizard’s brilliance.

The age of the case matter little to Lizard. When he got it, things started happening. During the last eighteen months, he broke the Matthews case, the Smith case, and the Alderson case. The evidence was so overwhelming against Smith and Alderson that they both pled guilty, hoping for a life sentence. Matthews was tougher, but just when it seemed that no proof existed, Lizard came up with a motive and the murder weapon.

Lizard was a legend—a legend still on the job.

“How do you do it?” asked Detective Sergeant Skip Sanders. He signaled for a left turn onto Monroe Street.
“Third house on the right,” Lizard said. “It’s simple perseverance. You stay on it until you get a break. You don’t think about anything else, even off duty. You lay out all the pieces in your head and then you look for what’s missing. You just keep looking.”

“You got the warrant?” Sanders turned the headlights off before pulling onto the cracked pavement of the driveway. “Look at that,” he said. “Every light in the house is on. He must not be expecting us.”

“I know this guy. He’s got rabbit blood. Get around to the back and be ready.”
Sanders stood on the steps at the backdoor before Lizard knocked on the front. The suspect was on the ground and cuffed within seconds. He’d run right into Sanders waiting arms.

“Call for transport. I’ll need you here to help me search,” Lizard said as the two detectives met in the kitchen.

Sanders noted that the kitchen was clean and orderly. 

“Search for what?” the accused asked.

“Why don’t you take Mr. Arnold out front, Skip. Give him his rights and a copy of the warrant.”
Skip Sanders, having done as suggested, returned to the kitchen. Lizard was placing a pistol into a plastic evidence bag. He held the gun with a pencil through the trigger guard.

“Transport has him,” Sanders said. “I see you’ve already found it.”

“Yep. A Smith and Wesson. Forty caliber. Just like ballistics said.”

“Where was it?”

Lizard nodded toward the sink counter. “Right there in plain view.”
Sanders scolded himself for not seeing it earlier. “Well, that was easy enough,” he said. “Looks like you’ve made another case.”

*  *  *
Forensics confirmed that the bullet taken from the victim, one Dorothy Helms, matched the rifling of the automatic Lizard had recovered. Witnesses saw Arnold arguing with Helms at a local nightspot two evenings before the murder. An airtight case.
Sanders fretted about not seeing the gun that had been “in plain view.” Was he beating himself up for nothing? Anyone might have missed it, even a veteran of fifteen years like himself. And who was he to question Lizard Hedrick?

At the office, three days after the arrest, he asked Lizard, “Did ATF get a trace on the gun?”

“I didn’t call them. Serial number was filed off.”

Why hadn’t Lizard told him that before? Tracing ownership to Arnold was crucial.

But maybe not. Lizard had the weapon and a motive. Just like the Matthews case.
*  *  *
On Arnold’s trial date, Henry Helms, husband of the deceased, slipped past the metal detectors at the courthouse. He shot Arnold through the head. Brains and chips of skull splattered over the defense attorney’s shirt.
Case closed.

That same night, about 2:00 AM, Arnold showed up at the foot of Lizard’s bed. With him were Matthews and Smith, both of whom had received lethal injections. Also present were two others who had died in prison while serving time for murders Lizard had “proven.”

Lizard knew he was dreaming. Here were all the killers he’d put away, except one. “Where’s Alderson?” he asked.

“He’s in Hell,” Arnold said, his voice low and watery. “Of the five of us, he was  actually guilty.”

“Yeah.” Why argue with ghosts? “Sometimes I think it might be easier to make an honest case than to set one up. Now go away before you wake up my wife.”

“Okay,” Arnold said, “we just came by to tell you about Gloria Swan.”

“What about her?”

“She’s dead.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You killed her, Lizard. Everyone will know by morning. Chief Hanson has copies of the emails you sent each other. Shame, shame. All that graphic language. And that last one you sent, you know, with all the threats.”

“Look, guys, I’m tired. I’ve got an early day. I don’t need nightmares like this.”

“This ain’t no nightmare, Lizard. Where’s your service weapon? The gun you killed her with?”

“Okay. You’re saying you set me up, but this is how I know you’re not real. Firstly, no one can get into my computer. It’s password-protected. Secondly, my weapon is in the hall closet. And thirdly, ghosts can’t type and they can’t pull triggers. Now please go away.”

“They can’t?” Arnold seemed genuinely puzzled. “But what if they acted in concert, Lizard? What if all the guys you framed put all their energy into the job? What if Matthews has been looking over your shoulder since they executed him? Might he know your password? And what if, working together you understand, we actually managed to lift and fire your Sig? What then, Lizard?”


“Then I’m screwed. Can I get some rest now?”
“Nighty-night, Lizard.”


*  *  *

They came for him before dawn, Chief Hanson and two detectives. Jake Hedrick’s conviction proved easy, his sentence severe. Arnold and Matthews and all the other dead felons came to visit him every night before the morning of his injection.