Who Killed Peter Cooke?

            Heidi looked despairingly around her mother’s small apartment in Vancouver, British Columbia.   She had finished cleaning out the kitchen and the bathroom and was now attempting to pack her mother’s living room into boxes.  She looked at a picture on the mantle piece of her and her mother.  It was taken at Niagara Falls the year they moved to Canada, when they were still living in Ontario.  There were other pictures of her mother with various different friends and a number of “Get Well Soon” cards.  They were all from their Canadian friends, nothing to connect them with the United States.  She dusted off the pictures and placed them into one of her many boxes.  Sighing, she moved over to the bookshelf.  The first book she saw was a fairly new book entitled, Living with Cancer. --  “Well,” she thought ironically. “That’s just what my mother didn’t do.” -- She decided to throw the book into her “throw out” pile.

            The next thing Heidi pulled out of the bookshelf was an old photo album.  In it were the pictures that were too painful for her mom to put on the mantle piece.  There were pictures of  her when she got her Bachelors from University, pictures of family, of friends in Seattle, of her parent’s wedding.  She was amazed at how happy her mother looked in those photos.  Heidi couldn’t remember the last time her mother was truly happy.  She hadn’t seen any pictures her father since they moved to Canada, and the pictures brought back all the unhappy memories.  His murder, the inquest, the police investigation, friends and family blaming her mom for everything.  Looking at all these smiling faces reopened the wounds in her heart.  She was about to shove the photo album into her box when a few pieces of yellowed newspaper fell out.  She picked up one and read:

                        The body of Peter Cooke was found scattered around various shops on Belmount St. in Seattle, WA on November 3, 1993. 

            Heidi froze.  She couldn’t believe that her mother had kept this.  They had left everyone and everything they knew to get away from the memory of her father, and yet her mother still wanted keep this reminder.  She remembered how her mother had told her when they moved to Vancouver, “Try not to tell people we are from the United States.  I mean, I don’t want you to tell a lie, just don’t call attention to the fact that you are not a Canadian citizen.  If, for any reason, someone asks, you have never heard of Peter Cooke in your life.” 

But the warnings were unneeded.  Their Seattle accent was very much like the Canadian accent, so no one even thought to ask where they came from.  Still, Heidi had always thought it peculiar that her mother had given her those instructions.

            Those newspaper articles were burning her fingers.  As she threw them down, a bunch of pictures floated down to the floor.  They were different pictures from various different newspapers.  She wondered why her mother had gone to so much trouble to find them and cut them out.  But it was the content of the pictures that was really distressing.  There was one picture of her father’s left arm sticking out of the oven of a pizza parlor.  Another of her father’s right leg mixed in with the oranges at the grocer’s.  Yet another with her father’s right arm among the tapestry at the rug shop, and his left leg on display in the shoe shop.  Heidi closed her stinging eyes.  She remembered being told that his head had been stuck on a pole inside the hardware store, and that his torso had been thrown into the dumpster behind all of these shops.  The cops never figured out who did it.

            Heidi got up and walked in circles around the apartment to rid herself of these memories.  But painful thoughts don’t burn off like fat during exercise, so eventually she had to force herself to sit down and think it out.  She wanted to run; she wanted to hide.  Only she realized there wasn’t anywhere to go.  She and her mother had tried running away before, and that failed.  Now that her mother was dead, it was her pain, and her pain alone.  Everyone who knew him in Seattle put him and his family out of their minds after his death.  But now she had to know; she needed to find out who killed her father.

            *                      *                      *                      *                      *

            Heidi sat in her hotel room in Seattle and looked out the window.  The sky was gray and the rain, typical to the region, was coming down, leaving huge puddles on the uneven ground.  She was sitting on the edge of the bed, tensely, holding a list of people to talk to.  Now that she was in Seattle, the first feelings of adventure had worn off and she was beginning to think that it had been a mistake to come.  She was dreading meeting with people who had sufficient reason to kill her father – one of whom, she assumed, had.

She sighed and looked down at her list of top suspects.

            Lucy Williamson

            Ben Hernandez

            Rick Snider

            Sam Drake

Since Lucy was the first name on the list, Heidi decided to visit her first.  She looked at a phone book to find the address.  There was one Lucy Williamson and two L. Williamsons.  She decided to try Lucy Williamson first, and try the others later if the need arose.

Lucy’s house was a small pale pink building with white trimmings and lace curtains in the windows.  The front yard was only four feet deep, but was covered in roses.  Fifteen years ago Lucy had been Heidi’s father’s secretary.  She had also been in love with him.  Heidi remembered the adoring looks and the fresh flowers Lucy gave him daily.  Unfortunately for Lucy, Heidi’s dad didn’t have the same feelings towards her.  Heidi wondered what Lucy was doing now.  She knocked on the door and waited anxiously for someone to answer.  When she heard footsteps on the inside of the house, her courage failed her.  But then the door opened and it was too late to run away.

            The woman who opened the door looked almost exactly like she had fifteen years earlier.  Her skin was more worn and she had wrinkles, but she wore the same clothes and glasses, and even her hair-do was the same.  This woman took one look at Heidi and froze.  The two women stared at each other silently for a few minutes before Heidi broke the ice.

            “Hello, Lucy.”

            “You,” Lucy said almost breathlessly.  “What are you doing here?”

            “I’m trying to find out who killed my father,” answered Heidi.

            “What?” exclaimed Lucy.  “Why now?  Why here?  What about your mother?”

            “What about my mother?” Heidi retorted.

            “Well, what does she have to say about this?”  asked Lucy.

            “What are you insinuating?” responded Heidi, obviously insulted.  “You don’t think she had anything to do with it, do you?”

            “No, but –“

            “Yes you do,” Heidi cut her off.  “You’re just like the rest of them.  Anyways, Mom died last month, so she can’t say anything about this.”

            “Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Lucy apologetically.  “Look, maybe you’d better come inside.  There’s no use standing in the rain, getting all wet.”

            Inside was a very small living room.  The walls were papered with a sunflower and violet pattern, which contrasted with the white furniture and carpet.  Lucy brought out a pot of tea, and they both sat down for a long, painful talk.

            “So, what makes you think that you’ll be able to find the murderer?” asked Lucy.  “The police couldn’t do it.”

            “True,” responded Heidi.  “But the police were looking at it from a distance.  This was a brutal crime, lots of hate involved.  It can only  be solved by someone who was right in the middle of it, someone who understood the emotions flying around.”

            Lucy was looking at Heidi queerly.  “What if knowing the truth is more painful than not knowing?”

            “You really think my mother did it, don’t you?” said Heidi.  “That’s interesting.  Now, if you don’t mind my changing the subject, what can you tell me about the events leading up to his death.”

            “It was so long ago, I really don’t remember,” said Lucy, squinting her eyes.  “Do you remember the Hernandez family?  Peter, your dad, was the prosecuting attorney that sent Luis Hernandez to jail for twenty years – quite rightly, of course.  Anyways, after that Peter kept receiving threatening letters.  Turns out it was Luis’ brother, Ben, who had been sending them.  He was a very violent man.  I saw him beat up a person once, you know.”

“Okay, thanks,” said Heidi.  “Now, where were you that night?”

“Me?!” said Lucy, shocked.  “Why do you want to know where I was?  How  could I possibly do such a thing?”

“I need to know who did it,” said Heidi.  “I’m asking everyone I can find this same question, so please don’t take it personally.”

“Well,” said Lucy, giving in, “If you must know, I was having dinner with Rick Snider.  That was a big mistake!  Let me tell you something, never date a man who uses excessive amounts of hand cream.  He spends the whole meal applying and reapplying it, and then his house turns out to be  a pig sty.”

“Rick Snider,” said Heidi thoughtfully.  “Do you happen to know where he is now?”

“He’s dead,” she replied brightly.  “A few years ago he slipped on a piece of trash in  his house and cracked his skull open.’

“Right, so do you happen to know the name of the place where you ate?” asked Heidi, trying to turn the conversation back to her original question.

“The Rooster,” Lucy replied promptly.  “Can you believe it, he took me to a crowded pub.”

“I just have one more question, then I’ll leave, alright?” said Heidi.  “Are you still working with the firm?”

“No,” she answered.  “I stayed on for a few more months after you left town.  Then I got a job at Washington Mutual and I’ve been there ever since.”

Heidi said good bye and left the house deep in thought.  She did notice that Lucy seemed to change the subject a lot when it came to establishing her alibi.  Also, Heidi hadn’t been aware that Lucy and Rick had been such good friends.  And had Lucy really seen Ben beat someone up, or was she just making it up?  Now that she had officially started her investigation, the sense of adventure had come back.  She decided to use her time now to visit her father’s offices.  She wanted to talk with Sam Drake.

            After hearing that Heidi was a new client, the secretary behind the front desk led Heidi to Sam’s office.  The first thing that Heidi noticed was that everything in the room was centered on a maple desk in the middle.  And behind that desk, surrounded by massive stacks of paper, sat Sam Drake himself.  He looked up when they came in and grinned as his secretary explained that Heidi was a prospective client.

            “Please sit down, Miss um …” he said, prompting a response.

            “Cooke,” Heidi finished.  “Heidi Cooke.”

            His face went pale.  He looked at her for a moment before turning to his secretary and saying, “Thank you, Miss Johnson.  That will be all for now.”

            By the time she had closed the door, Sam had recovered.  “You know, I should have known who you were immediately.  You are the spitting image of your father.”

            “I’ve come to find my father’s killer,” she said, prematurely answering his question.

            “Have you?” he said, his eyebrows raised.  “That’s understandable.  Well then, what do you want from me?”

            “Can you tell me anything about the events leading up to his death?” she asked.

            Shifting to a more comfortable position in his chair, he responded.  “Now, I realize that I’m a suspect in this, but I will try to tell you a completely unbiased story, for everyone’s sakes.  As you see, when your father died, I became the senior lawyer in this firm, and I benefited a great deal from it.  So, I obviously had motive.  And where was I that night?  I really don’t remember.  It was so long ago.  You know, I probably should know where I was because I had to tell the police so many times.  Oh, you know where I might have been?  I think I was either in San Francisco or going to San Francisco on business.  My memory isn’t quite clear on that subject.”

            “Now, getting back to your questions.  You remember the Hernandez family, don’t you?  Yes, I see you do.  Well Ben Hernandez very well could have been the murderer, he did threaten him once or twice if my memory serves me right.  And then there was his secretary, Lucy Williamson.  She was madly in love with your father.  She’d been pressuring him a lot more than before those weeks before he died.  He was getting quite fed up with her.  Even talked of firing her.  It wasn’t her kind of crime, though.  I would have said that she loved him enough to kill him.”  He paused.  “Is there anything more you want to know?”

            “How about Rick Snider?” she asked.  “Do you know anything about him?”

            “Rick Snider,” he said.  “As a matter of fact, I do know a few things about him.  He used to rent an apartment from me, until he stopped paying his rent and I had him evicted.  He was a solid, bright young lad.  He wanted to marry your mother, you know.  But she turned him down and married your father instead.  Rick was never quite the same again.  I think he died a few years ago, no idea how.  I don’t think he liked Peter very much.  But your mom dumped him years before Peter’s death.  No one can be angry for that long.  Now, is that all?”

            “Yes, thank you very much,” Heidi said as she got up and left the room.

                        *                      *                      *                      *                      *

            After many minutes of searching at the library, Heidi was able to find a newspaper article that had some details about her father’s murder.  The points of interest were that the time of death was somewhere between 8 am and 12pm.  The cause of death was a blunt object to the back of the head, cracking the skull and causing instantaneous death.  The body had been cut up many hours later with a very sharp knife.  All the of the shops in which body parts had been found had been opened with a picklock from the alley way that ran behind the shops.

            Heidi mulled over all the information she had found earlier that day as she walked through the streets of Seattle.  The rain had stopped, but the wet smell was still there.  She walked over to the water’s edge and watched the sun set into the sound.  This place was her mother’s favorite spot in the world.  Heidi remembered that the night before they left, she and her mother had sat in this spot silently watching the sun disappear, knowing that it would probably be the last time they ever saw it.  Sitting there, Heidi realized why her mother had kept all those mementos of the past.  She kept them for Heidi to find, so that she could find the murderer.  The sky was now a rosy pink, and the sun was a deep orange.  The brightness of the colors made everything click inside Heidi’s head.  It seemed somewhat fantastic, but if it was true, then it made sense that the police had been unable to find the murderer before.  She turned her back on the rainbow sky and walked briskly back to her hotel.

                        *                      *                      *                      *                      *

            The pink house no longer looked innocent to her as she walked up the cement pathway.  The precise neatness of the yard seemed menacing and witch-crafted.  She was so disgusted, she felt like throwing up.  But she knew the house wasn’t the problem, it was the person inside.  Heidi rang the doorbell and waited for the answer.  The door opened and Lucy’s head popped out.

            “Oh, Heidi,” she said, pretending to be surprised.  “What are you doing here again?”

            “I think you know,” replied Heidi.  “You killed my father.”

            They were once again seated in the living room, but this time without the tea.

            “I didn’t kill him,” said Lucy.  “I loved him.  He just wouldn’t understand.  I was trying to make him see.  I wanted him to run away with me, but he wouldn’t listen.  He screamed at me and ran.  That was when he tripped on the stairs and fell.  He must have hit his head hard on the ground, or something, because by the time I got there, he was already dead.  I didn’t know what to do.  We were on the back stairs in the firm, and I knew if anyone found us, they would have thought I pushed him down.  But I didn’t.” 

            By this point, tears were streaming down Lucy’s cheeks.  “I called up Rick and he came over and secretly took the body away.  I had no idea what he was going to do with it.  I never dreamed that he hated your father so much.  I know he was in love with your mother, but that was ages before that … that day.  Anyways, he told me to say we’d been together all that day.”

            She looked at Heidi.  “What are you going to do now?”
            “Nothing,” Heidi replied.  “I did this all for my own satisfaction, to close the chapters of both my parents.  But there is one thing you should know.  My father hated you.  He thought you were a bore and a pest and he wanted to have you sent far across the country, away from him.  He loved me and my mother.  We were his family.  You were never anything to him.  You ruined my father’s life, my mother’s life, and you nearly ruined mine.  I hope you felt some sort of guilt for the way my mom was treated by her friends and her relatives.  You’re the reason I haven’t been to the United States until yesterday, why I was exiled to Canada.  I want you to remember that you’re responsible for all those things because you need to feel some of the pain I have had to carry for fifteen years.”

            With that she got up and left, never turning back to see what Lucy was doing.  But Heidi hadn’t gotten to the door before Lucy snuck up behind her.  Lucy threw a rope around Heidi’s neck and pulled it tightly.  Heidi reached backwards and elbowed Lucy hard in the stomach, while at the same time stomping on her foot.  Lucy’s hold on the rope weakened as the wind was knocked out of her.  Heidi grabbed the rope and pulled her head free.  She tried to grab the rope away from Lucy, but Lucy had regained her strength.  The two of them struggled, Heidi trying to get to the door, and Lucy keeping her inside.  Heidi finally got the upper hand and pinned Lucy to the floor. 

            “I see you’ve changed your method of killing people,” Heidi yelled.  “You got bored of breaking people’s skulls, did you?  Two times was too many?  Well, I’ve left a note to the police exposing you in my hotel room, in case anything happened to me.  So, you better just leave me alone!”

With that, she kicked Lucy hard both to make her point, and to give herself time to escape without being pursued.  She ran all the way back to her hotel partly out of fear of Lucy, and partly out of the exhilaration of finding her father’s killer.  The black cloud that surrounded her past was gone; she was free.

A week later, an article appeared in one of the Seattle newspapers. 

            Yesterday, the body of Lucy Williamson was dragged out of Puget Sound.  Witnesses say that she jumped on her own accord, and did not listen to their pleas to stop.