Angel of Mercy (27 page)

“I told you… she’s not in there.”

“She’s there. I saw her go into the apartment not ten minutes ago.

Now either you open your door or I’ll break it open,” he threatened.

“What dramatics,” she said, her eyes flaring. “I’m telling you, she’s not in there. You’re going to feel like the fool you are,” she said.

“Right. I know she’s not in there,” he said dryly.

“But open the door.”

Faye glared at him. Then she walked back reluctantly, but made no effort to open the door. She simply stood sulking. He shrugged and started toward the door, his posture suggesting he would break it down.

“All right,” she relented. She dug into her purse and came up with the key. He stepped back as she opened the door. “See for yourself if you must. But hurry, I have someplace important to go.

“You not going anywhere, Miss Sullivan. Not anywhere you want to go, that is. Just relax,” he said.

He entered slowly. She was right behind him, hovering as he paused in the living room and then at the doorway to the kitchen. When he didn’t find Susie, he went to the first bedroom on the left, Faye’s bedroom, and peered in. There were two other suitcases on the bed, both open, a nurse’s uniform visible.

“Doing a lot of packing,” he said. “Looks like this isn’t such a short trip, is it?”

She didn’t reply. He entered the bedroom, checked the bathroom, and then looked in the closet.

“Really, Officer, do you expect to find my sister hiding in the closet?”

He came out and paused at the doorway of the second bathroom. Susie’s uniform was still hanging over the shower rack. He looked back at Faye.

She had put her suitcase down and was standing with her arms folded under her bosom.

“That’s your sister’s uniform, isn’t it? I saw her wearing it a short while ago.”

“It’s her uniform, but it’s not her. I told you she wasn’t here,” Faye said. He looked at the second bedroom. The door was closed. He started toward it.

“She’s not in there,” Faye assured him. Frankie looked at her and then opened the door on an empty bedroom. “Are you going to check the closets in there, too?” she asked.

It was her calmness that unnerved him. He thought he would rather be facing a street criminal. At least he would know what to anticipate, but this cool and bizarre woman made him feel anxious and somehow at a disadvantage. It was as if he had stepped into dangers he couldn’t imagine.

He studied the room for a moment and then went to the closets. They were empty. Naked hangers dangled on the rack. He checked the dresser drawers and found them empty, too.

“Isn’t this… your sister’s room?” he asked, confused. “Are all her things in that suitcase?” She didn’t reply. He looked around the room and then fixed his gaze on the bed. How childish, he thought. He looked back at Faye and smirked, but she didn’t change expression.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” he sang, and then he started for the bed.

“What are you doing? Don’t touch that bed. My sister is very particular about other people touching her intimate things. Don’t!” she shouted, but he reached out and pulled back the comforter, exposing the leg brace lying just where it would had it been on the leg of someone in that bed.

Then his eyes fell on the pillow that had been under the blanket, too.

Just a few strands of hair were visible.

He lifted the pillow and pinched the wig in his fingers, holding it as if it were something contaminated.

“What the hell…?” Leg brace, wig… The realization sent a shock through him. The excitement was tantamount to his having run five miles. His heart thumped and his head felt heavy.

“Stop!” Faye screamed. “Put that down!” She lunged forward. Frankie turned to sidestep but took the brunt of her charge. She struck him in the chest with both closed fists and for a moment, it was as if he had been shot. The surprise, the power of the blow, the excitement, and the beating of his heart collaborated to bring on an attack. He reached out to push her away, but his arms felt like they were made of marshmallow.

The room spun, his eyes went back, and his legs folded, dropping his torso with a heavy thud at the feet of Faye Sullivan.

She stepped back and gazed down at him. His face was as white as mashed potatoes and his lips had begun to take on that familiar blue tint.

She heard his gasps and shook her head. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she tried to sort out the confusion. The wig was on the floor, but it looked unfamiliar. Where was she? A gurgle echoed in Frankie’s throat, and she went to her knees beside him.

Quickly, she turned Frankie on his back and then, placing one of her hands over the other and interlocking the fingers, she pressed down on his chest with the heel of her hands on his breastbone. She leaned for ward and began a rhythmic movement, alternating it with mouth-to-mouth respiration. “What are you doing?”

She paused and looked up at Susie.

“He’s having a heart attack,” she replied, “But he’s a policeman. He’s come for me.”

Faye gazed down at Frankie as if seeing him for the first time.

“I can’t let him die,” she said, shaking her head.

“You can’t let him live,” Susie retorted. “Get away from him. Come on.

Let’s get everything else in the car and go. Come on, Faye.”

“He’ll die,” Faye said. She looked at Susie. Her face was twisted in a grimace of fear. Never did her sister look more pathetic.

“But he knows about us, about me. And now he knows about Tillie. Get up. Quickly. Don’t you know what you’re doing?”

“Of course I know what I’m doing. I’m a nurse,” Faye said proudly.

She turned back to Frankie just as Rosina Flores came rushing into the Sullivan apartment. With her service revolver drawn, she hurried through until she spotted Faye Sullivan on her knees beside Frankie Samuels.

“What’s going on?” she demanded, her gun pointing at Faye. “Get away from him.”

“He’s having a heart attack,” Faye said calmly. “I’m giving CPR.” She started again. Rosina stepped closer.

“I’m losing him,” Faye said. She got up and started out. Rosina didn’t move. “Get out of my way!

Quickly!”

Rosina stepped aside and Faye ran into her bedroom where she began to rifle through her dresser drawers.

“There’s a dead old woman in the bathtub next door,” Derek said’ coming in behind Rosina. “What the hell’s going on?” he asked, seeing Frankie on the floor.

Rosina nodded toward Faye, who pulled out hypodermic needles from the drawer and shoved something out of the way to find the medicine she wanted. She ripped off the protective cover of a needle and began to draw the medicine from the bottle.

“She says Frankie’s having a heart attack. Call the paramedics.”

“Right,” Derek said. He rushed to the nearest phone.

“What is that?” Rosina demanded when Faye returned to Frankie’s side.

“Digitoxin. It’s a cardiovascular drag used for congestive heart failure, to regulate the heart rhythm.”

ú She went to her knees and quickly prepared to inject Frankie.

“Wait,” Rosina cried. Faye turned.

“If we wait any longer, he’s sure to die,” Faye said.

“Look at his lips and his pupils !”

Rosina’s mind reeled. Where was the other sister?

What had caused Frankie’s seizure? Is this woman a murderess or a nurse? she wondered. She, a policewoman, could be standing by and willingly watching someone kill another person; in effect, giving her permission to do so. On the other hand, Faye Sullivan might actually be saving Frankie Samuels’ life.

“Well?” Faye waited, poised with the needle. “I’m losing him!” she screamed.

“Do it.” Rosina lowered her pistol to her side, closed her eyes, and prayed.

Epilogue With Stevie, Beth and Laurel at her side, Jennie held Frankie’s hand and watched the medicine in the IV bottle drip through the tube and into his arm. There was ?“ubdued noise and chatter around her in the CCU, but Jennie heard only the beep, beep, beep of Frankie’s heart monitor. His eyelids fluttered and slowly lifted.

When he focused on Jennie’s face, he smiled. Then his gaze went to his son and his daughter and daughter-inlaw.

“Did I miss something?” he asked.

The tears rolled down Jennie’s cheeks, but she didn’t make any effort to wipe them away.

“You missed something,” she said with a tone of chastisement.

He stared at her a moment.

“I had the craziest dream,” he said, “that I had come out of the hospital, recuperated, gone to my retirement dinner, and then moved to Palm Springs.”

“Very funny, Frankie.”

“How are you doing, Dad?” Stevie asked moving closer to the bed to take Frankie’s other hand into his.

“I’m all right as long as you guys leave me in here and don’t let her-take me home, where she’s sure to beat me to death,” he replied.

Beth laughed and then just started to cry. She turned away quickly.

“Hey,” Frankie said. “I’ve got a new cause for you to picket and protest: the treatment of retired policemen, especially retired detectives.” Beth’s shoulders stopped shaking. She wiped her face and turned back to him.

“Maybe I will,” she said. He took her hand and held it. Then she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Guess I don’t look much like Dirty Harry anymore, huh?”

“No,” she said sadly.

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry, that you’ll miss him.”

“I won’t,” she said, smiling.

He laughed and looked at Laurel. “You mad at me too?”

“I’m with Jennie, if that’s what you’re trying to f?“nd out,” she said.

“Figures you women would stick together,” he said, and then he took a deep breath and turned back to Jennie.

“Let’s hear it,” he said.

“What’s there to hear? You knew what you were doing and you went and did it anyway.” She softened.

“Rosina says you’re being awarded some sort of citation for outstanding police work as soon as you’re able to leave the hospital and receive it.”

“Check this, Dad,” Stevie said, and he held up the Desert Sun. The front page had Frankie’s picture on it and a story about his cracking the case they labeled “The Medical Murders.”

“Well isn’t that nice,” Frankie said.

“Yeah, it’s nice. I could have put it in a nice frame and looked at it whenever I returned from the cemetery,” Jennie quipped.

“That’s a woman for you,” Frankie said to Stevie.

“Always looking at the dark side.”

“Rosina’s here.” Jennie smirked. “I’m sure you’re anxious to hear the details, even in this condition.

There’s only a few minutes left to this visit. We’ll go out and let her come in. I’ll be back on the hour.”

She leaned over to kiss him.

“I’m sorry, Jen. I really didn’t think this sort of thing would happen.”

“Of course you didn’t. You’re Charles Bronson,” she said. The children kissed him, too, and they all left.

A few moments later, Rosina was at the side of the bed, shaking her head.

“You know what I feel like now, don’t you—an accomplice to a capital crime.”

“Come on, Flores.”

“I shouldn’t have told you anything about the Ratner murder. I should have just closed all this myself.”

“What, and get all the glory?” She laughed. “So, tell me all about it.

What did I do? I’m still not sure what the hell I found in that apartment.”

“You found someone with what the doctors call a multiple personality syndrome.”

“Then there wasn’t a twin named Susie?” he asked.

“Yes, there was, but she died when she was twelve.

She was born with the handicap, just the way Faye played it.

Apparently, from what I could gather up to now, her twin was a very disturbed young lady with many psychological problems exacerbated by the fact that she was handicapped and not as bright as her sister. Whenever comparisons were made, she always came out on the short end, and there was even evidence their father favored Faye and neglected Susie.”

“What did she do?”

“She took too many of her mother’s sleeping pills,” Rosina said. “To escape the turmoil and disappointment. And she was only twelve. Can you imagine?”

“But that’s where the idea to do people with pills originated?”

“It probably got planted there and developed when Faye became a nurse.

Anyway, after Susie died, Faye’s mother went off the deep end and became obsessed with cleaning, organizing, regimenting her life to the point that there was no real living. She and her husband became estranged, whatever, and… here’s the other ugly part… he began to sexually abuse Faye.”

“When?”

“Not long after her sister’s death. It went on for some time, until Mrs. Sullivan had heart trouble and died. He began to suffer some guilt himself, went into a depression and eventually was thought to have committed suicide.”

“Thought?”

“The psychiatrist tells me he now believes—I should say, he’s now convinced—Faye, who was a nurse by this time, helped him off to the hereafter, and thus the so-called Medical Murders began.”

“Is that when this multiple personality business began?”

“The ‘doctor believes so.”

“Why did that happen?” Frankie asked. “Does he know?”

“The psychiatrist feels Faye reinvented her twin sister to compensate.

She had trouble living with the guilt, of course, but she had more trouble living with herself, living with whom she had become. Susie be came her alter ego, encompassing all the qualities and beliefs she wished she had, such as believing in the magic of love and marriage, that relationships between men and women could be perfect and go on forever and ever, even after death.

“Most importantly, Susie was that part of her that denied what had gone on between her and her father.

Susie was the innocent.”

“Innocent? She murdered people as Susie, didn’t she?” Frankie said.

“Yes, but the doctor says those killings validated Faye’s killing of her father.”

“Huh?”

“Believing she was helping these loved ones reunite in a better world continually justif?“ed Faye’s killing of her father, sending him off to join their mother in a more perfect life. Death, killing, wasn’t so terrible then. In fact, it was in Susie’s and I suppose Faye’s mind, nothing more than the ticket, the means of transportation. When the doctor talks to the Susie part of her, Susie says she was just helping them leave, providing them with the means.”