Ashes to Ashes by Nathaniel Fincham Page A

“Tread lightly with this one. This is
not some low life from the streets. This one is different. My
professional and friendly advice is for you to be very, very
careful. Okay?”
    Ashe was taken aback but was not completely
surprised by her response. Franklin Barrett was different
than an inmate like Kentucky Jim or Foxy…Ms. Taneesha Jones. “I am
always careful.”
    Letting out a stiff breath, she agreed.
“Okay. One o'clock.”
    “Thank you,” Ashe replied. “I will be out of
my office for a few hours. I have some personal issues to
handle.”
    “Anything that I can help with?”
    “Nope. I need to deal with them on my
own.”

Chapter 11
     
    Ashe used the block of two hours that he had
cleared up to head back over to the police station. He had a few
things on his mind and a few agendas to bring to fruition. But his
thought process scattered in response to the commotion he found
when he came into the homicide division. There was a lot of
movement among the desks, much more than the night before. And
Oscar's door was open, which was never the case. The detective was
speaking rapidly into his cell phone. Something was obviously going
on and Ashe had a feeling that Scott was involved.
    “What is with all the sound and fury?” Ashe
asked Oscar from the office doorway. “Even though your skin is
naturally darker than mine, I can still tell when you are
flustered.” He was trying to mask his tension with humor.
    “It’s nothing that concerns you at the
moment,” Oscar replied, putting his hand over the mouth of the
phone. He spoke to Ashe without looking in his direction. Which was
never a good sign, the psychologist knew. Ashe’s old friend could
pull off any bluff, no matter how untrue, while staring down a
suspect, but the detective could never pull off a lie if he had to
look Ashe in the eyes.
    Oscar finished his cellular conversation with
a “Be right there, Paul.” Turning completely away from Ashe, Oscar
grabbed his suit jacket from a hanger and slid it on. Oscar was one
of those types of detectives, suit and tie and shiny shoes. “What
can I do for you, Ashe? I have to run.”
    “Talk to me,” Ashe insisted. “What is going
on?”
    “Nothing that I know for sure,” Oscar
groaned, choosing to meet Ashe’s gaze. “But I will call you later
when I know more.”
    “Is it about Scott?”
    “Not sure,” he said, his sight darting away
from the psychologist.
    Ashe slammed his fist down hard on the desk.
“Damn it, Oscar! Tell me!”
    Oscar paused. He took in a deep breath and
looked back to Ashe. “Two dead bodies in Lincoln Park,” he said
matter-of-fact.
    “And?”
    He took another deep breath. “Shooting,” he
simply added.
    “ And?”
    “ I was going to call you when I knew
more,” Oscar grunted. “Two dead bodies were reported in Lincoln
Park this morning. Shooting victims. In the homeless cluster that
has set up there over the past year. Someone made an anonymous call
this morning. Probably one of the vagrants getting sick of the
smell. I'm surprised they didn't let the bodies sit and rot instead
of calling it in. We both know how much the homeless like the
police coming into their little towns.”
    “How is Scott involved?”
    “We believe that Scott...caused the death of
the two men,” Oscar answered.
    Ashe began to shake his head back and
forth.
    “A leather YSU basketball jacket was found on
one of the bodies, identified by the name on it as belonging to
Scott Walters,” Oscar continued. “A handgun was found as well.
Ruger. It’s being sent to the lab for testing but I was told it is
the same caliber as the one that killed Owen Roberts.”
    “His jacket was on one of them?” Ashe asked.
“Why? Why would one of the dead men be wearing Scott's school
jacket?”
    “I don't know.”
    “That has to mean something.”
    “I don't want to speculate at this
point.”
    “Well. What do you know?”
    “Not much,” Oscar replied. “I'm heading over
there now.”
    “You