A Novel Murder (16 page)

“How is Naomi Parker?” Michelle cut in. I’ve brought her purse and few things she might need. Can we see her now?”

Dr. Nguyen lowered his gaze to the floor.
“I’m so sorry, but...”

“No!
" Michelle screamed. "You can’t tell me she’s gone. She’s not gone...I know she’s not gone.”

Tony embraced her, his own eyes blurred with tears.
“Shhh, sweetie. I’m here for you. He kissed her cheek and cupped her chin. “You aren’t alone.”

Dr. Nguyen tapped her on the shoulder.
“We understand Ms. Parker had no living relatives, and through her family doctor, we discovered she delegated you as a person to notify in case of an emergency. She also assigned you her power of attorney.”

Michelle backed out of Tony’s embrace.
“Me?" She seized her bosom then realized what the position meant. "Of course, Doctor, I’d do anything for her. She was like the sister I never had."

“In that case, I hate to add to your pain, but I’ll need you to make an official identification.”

How many times, had Michelle uttered those same words to relatives she’d notified over the years. Still, she never expected to hear them spoken to her.

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to her.
Oh, and Mr. Rizetti, it might be a good idea if you come along too.”

“It’s
Detective
Rizetti, and I intend to go where
Detective
Wallace goes.” He helped Michelle to her feet and together they followed the doctor, Michelle’s sobs replaced by hiccupping.

Through the double doors and down a long corridor they went.
Michelle halted a few times and had to be prompted by Tony to move. Reaching a room where a sheet covered body lay, Michelle backed up several steps and hung her head. “I don’t think I can do this, Tony.” Her tears splattered on the tile floor.

“You have to, baby,” he crooned.
"You’re the only one who can. I’ve never met Naomi so it’s up to you."

Michelle squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Still clutching two purses to her middle, she forced one foot in front of the other and waited until the doctor pulled back the covering.
Sagging into the bedside chair, Shell began sobbing again and nodded an affirmative to Dr. Nguyen as he recovered Nay’s pale and expressionless face.

“I know this is a terrible task for anyone.
I’m so sorry for your loss. Do either of you have questions for me?”

Michelle jerked her head up and met his gaze.
“Why? Why did my friend die? Why couldn’t you save her?”

Dr. Nguyen, his hands in his lab coat pockets, slowly shook his head.
“We tried. We pumped her stomach, we gave her medicine we hoped would counteract the overdose of valium, but she also had consumed a lot of wine which didn’t help. There was just nothing more we could have done for her. I’m so sorry.”

“Why was she taking valium?
I had no idea.”

“According to her personal physician, he referred her to a psychiatrist a few months back and she was diagnosed with severe manic depression.”

“So what now?” Michelle looked at him through teary eyes. “I’ve never been in this position before.”

“I have,” Tony offered.
“I know what we need to do.” Let’s get back to Naomi’s and check the phone book for a good mortuary.

Doctor Nguyen directed his gaze at Tony. “She didn’t have any personal affects with her other than the clothing she’s wearing, but you can exchange those with the funeral home.”

Personal affects. Michelle looked down at Nay’s worn leather purse and bitter bile rose in Shells throat. She swallowed and fought to find words while holding up her friend’s purse. “I brought what I thought I should, but I guess she won’t be needing them now.” Michelle’s chin dropped to her chest and sobs wracked her body.

* * *

On the way back to Naomi’s apartment, Michelle’s crying had subsided and her mind spun. Did Paul have anything to do with her friend being dead? Putting suicide as a reason on a death certificate didn’t feel right if the bastard had been the cause. She turned blurry eyes to Tony. “We can’t go back to Nay’s until the CSI guys have come in and checked everything out. If Paul had anything to do with this, I want to nail him.”

Her
partner’s eyes focused on the heavy traffic; he didn’t glance aside. “That’s what the call I made was about. I’m sure they’ve already been there and left.”

“But...I don’t know if I can stand going to her place so soon.”
Michelle stared out the passenger window at the blurring buildings and vehicles lined along adjacent streets.

“You can do it.” Tony assured. “Besides, we’ll need to notify her landlord and plan what to do with her belongings.”

Tears spilled down Michelle’s face. Giving away Nay’s things, planning her funeral. She never saw any of those tasks in her stupid visions. Her chest burned and her eyes hurt from crying. How could she not have known her friend was so depressed?  Nay obviously did a great job of hiding her sadness with humor.  Michelle, feeling like she’d truly failed her best friend, choked back sobs.

Tony stopped the car in Nay’s parking place before Michelle realized they’d arrived.
Paul’s spot still sat empty. Reluctant to face the inevitable, Michelle stayed in the car until Tony came around and opened the door. “Come on, babe. We have to do this.”

As if in a trance, she allowed him to take her elbow and lead her to the elevator.
So engrossed in her loss, she remained unfazed by the closing of the steel doors that always made her feel trapped. She fished Nay’s keys out of a side purse pocket and handed them to Tony, who opened the door.

Signs of white powder dusted the furniture surfaces...residue from printing by the Crime Scene Investigators. The empty cans and bottle had been removed, and someone had up righted the end table and discarded the broken lamp.
Michelle pushed her shoulders back and took a deep breath. She was a detective, and this was just a job...at least that’s what she kept telling herself. Detached for a moment, she moved about the apartment looking for anything out of place or something that might point a definite finger at Paul Hance. Tony wandered into the bedroom.

Michelle located the telephone book in a kitchen drawer and pulled it out. Gathering her nerves, she began thumbing through the yellow pages.
The hospital would need someone to pick Nay’s body up, and soon. No autopsy because she died at the hospital from known causes.

A cell phone sounded from the other room.
Tony’s muffled voice responded, but Michelle couldn’t make out the conversation. While he talked, she used her own phone to call the first name on the mortuary list, ‘Abernathy’s,’ and made the necessary arrangements. Why did everyone always worry about money at a time like this? She felt insulted when they wanted the name and address of the person responsible, but quickly gave her own. It was the least she could do for a person she loved dearly.

“Hey, Meesh,” Tony called from the bedroom. “Can you come in here please
?”

Michelle, still carrying her phone, crossed to the door and leaned against the jamb.
“I’m right here.”

“Take a look at this.”
He held up a notepad with noticeable writing indentions on a blank page.

“Yeah, so?”

Frank just called from the station. They found a suicide note on the
nightstand. He said it was long and addressed to you. Naomi kept mentioning Kitten, Persia and a journal. She also mentioned her purse, so you might want to take a peek inside before we head back to work.”

Michelle hurried back into the living room and returned with Naomi’s purse.
She emptied the contents onto the bed and gasped. There, among the wallet, hairbrush, tissue, lipstick and miscellaneous receipts and pieces of paper, was a brown book with the word “journal” etched onto the front. Shell picked it up. “I’ve been carrying this thing around for hours.” She sagged onto the bed and opened the cover. On the first page was written in neat script, Cara Austin, and a date three years prior. Michelle turned wide eyes on her partner. “This is it. We’ve got the journal.” She looked from him back to the book then back at him. “Why would Naomi have it?”

On the way back to the station, Tony drove while Michelle sat in the passenger seat and read Cara Austin’s journal. She flipped through the pages, finding nothing exciting or in the least helpful.

“Anything yet?”
Eagerness tinged Tony’s voice.

“No.
She’s younger at the beginning, and everything is about her mundane life. She liked this boy, that boy, Jay broke her heart, and her parents don’t understand her. She wishes she had younger parents instead of ones who had her late in life...blah, blah, blah.”

“Well, at least you’ve confirmed she isn’t a lesbian.”

“Wasn’t a lesbian. She could have changed her mind, you know? It happens all the time.”

“I thought being gay was a genetic thing.”

“It probably is, but it takes time for some people to gather the courage to admit they aren’t like everyone else. Remember the term, ‘coming out of the closet?’ Maybe I’ll skip forward. This is boring stuff.”

“Whatever.”
Tony turned into the station so fast she hit her head against the window.

“Hey, Parnelli.
How about a little consideration for the passenger?”

“Sorry, guess I should have followed my passion for racing.”

She rubbed the side of her head and smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t. I like having you in my life.”

“Me, too, and if we were in a more private place I’d show you just how much.”

When had he gotten so bold? She’d heard him refer to her as his girlfriend at the hospital, he’d been using terms of endearment she’d never heard him use before, and now he threatened her with a kiss. She liked the way things were progressing. For a moment she smiled at sharing the news with Naomi, but then remembered, and her smile faded. Those days were gone forever.

“What say we get inside and get back to
work? You can read Naomi’s sui...note,” he patted Michelle’s hand, “and I’ll finish going through the journal.”

Tony was kind not to call Naomi’s last letter what it was.
Dread pooled in Shell’s stomach, but on the other hand, she had to know why her joyous and playful friend had taken an overdose...killed herself with pills she’d never talked about, prescribed by a doctor she never mentioned. Michelle always felt confident they knew each other inside and out. Obviously she was wrong.

She heaved a loud sigh. “I suppose I have to face it sometime.
Might as well be now. Let’s go solve this case and nail Paul Hance to the wall. We can put out an BOLO on him because I never had a chance to sneak the picture of him with Nay back into her apartment.” Tears spilled down Michelle’s cheeks and she wiped them away. “I guess Nay and I didn’t know each other as well as we thought, but at least I’ll never have to admit to what I did.” She fished in her purse and handed Tony the photograph. She averted her gaze, unable to look upon her friend’s smiling face.

At her desk, Michelle held the folded note in her hand and stared at it.
Her stomach turned queasy and reading Nay’s last words would make everything final. No more pretending everything that happened was just a bad dream. Forcing herself, Shell unfolded the note and surprised herself with a chuckle when she read the salutation.

Dear Meesh (I know you hate that so I had to use it)

By the time you find this, I’ll be gone. Leaving you behind is the only regret I have, but if you read further, you’ll understand why I decided to take my own life. Paul and I are through. We have been for quite a while. I’ve just been holding on to the hope that he really loved me, but my suspicions played out when I decided to follow him one night to see if he was really getting on a plane. You’ll probably realize a connection when I tell you we ended up at Kitty Katz. You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you what I did and put your mind to rest over the stripper murders so you could concentrate on being with Tony but I didn’t have the courage to look into your eyes and tell you I was the horrible person you sought.

Anyhow, the night I followed Paul, I waited outside and watched Cara Austin get in his car.
They were all over each other, and I followed them to her house. I didn’t do anything that night except go home and stew over his cheating, but when he actually did leave town, I waited until she came home from work and I took my revenge. I’m sorry you had to watch that, but I was thankful you didn’t see my face. I know you’ve always been bothered by your visions not showing the criminal, but in this case it was a blessing for me.

Paul didn’t know I’d killed Cara so when he left on one of his flimsy excuses, I followed him again.
We had a horrific argument in Kitty Katz’s parking lot, and the girl you knew as Persia overheard us. I don’t know how long she was listening, but I confessed to Paul that his beloved Cara wouldn’t be around anymore. I couldn’t risk Persia talking, so when Paul stormed off, I waited and followed Persia home. I’m so sorry she became what you would call “collateral damage.” I honestly never meant to hurt anyone, but I guess I should have listened to my psychiatrist when he warned me I might suffer from erratic behavior. Murder is probably as erratic as it gets, huh?