Eleven Days (14 page)

“Might be a little uncomfortable for a second, but I don’t think so.”

“Uncomfortable for who?”

“My prize patient.” He picked up a tweezery sort of device, and I could feel a little tug on the right side of my head. “Oh dear …”

“What?”

“We’ll have to use the hammer and torch.”

“Very funny, Henry.”

“All done. You want a sucker?”

“No, but one of those neat little Snoopy Band-Aids would be good.”

“All out. Used ’em all on injured cops.”

The nurse left, and Henry turned serious.

“You feel okay, Carl?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Well, your BP is up, and you look a little pale.”

“Oh, I’m just in the middle of labeling the crime scene photos … bothers me a little.”

“Phyllis and company?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad I missed that one.”

Henry, along with every other doctor in the county, was an assistant medical examiner. Fortunately for him, he’d been gone last Saturday.

“It was a mess.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Can I go back to work?”

“Do you feel like it?”

“Yeah, I think so. Tomorrow night … haven’t had much sleep today.”

“Fine.”

I grinned. “I’d hate to miss anything.”

“You’re aware that the life expectancy of a career cop is about fifty-five to sixty?”

“I’ve heard that.”

“Know what kills them?”

“Stress, I’m told.”

“Stress from boredom. Go back to work. This case ought to add five years to your life.”

I got home a little after noon, and the phone was ringing. It was Hal.

“Where you been?”

“Getting the stitches out.”

“Oh, yeah. Hey, I talked to Helen this morning on the phone, asked her to come into the office after lunch, and she said that she couldn’t make it. Not today. It didn’t sound right, like she was real reluctant to come in.”

“Her husband?”

“I think so.”

“Damn. I’d hate to lose her.”

“We won’t lose her. We can always subpoena her in.”

“Yeah, but she was so cooperative, I’d hate to lose that. You can miss so much if you have to pry it out of somebody, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Tell you what, she knows you … could you give her a call?”

“Sure, but I don’t guarantee anything.”

“No, just give it a try. Set up an appointment for tomorrow, maybe? And see what you think is going on. Talked to Hester this morning, too. Rachel didn’t show all night last night. No contact with her employer, either.”

“Swell.”

“Yeah. I’ve made some calls around, and nobody gets a ringing bell with the description of this Darkness character, either.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“And Hester will be up tomorrow, with all the lab stuff. NYPD is sending their officer out, and I’ll pick him up at the Cedar Rapids airport this evening. We’ll meet at your office tomorrow at 09:00. Will you have the pictures done by then?”

“Oh, yeah. About three-fourths done now.”

“Good, bring ’em with you.”

“They really sending a man out?”

“Yeah.”

“Must be nice to have a big budget.”

“They’re spending our bucks on this one.”

“Like I said …”

“Yeah. Look, as long as Helen isn’t available, I think I’ll go to Iowa City and talk with Hester this afternoon. Got to be down that way to meet the plane this evening, anyway.”

I hung up, looked up Helen’s number, and called her. By the third ring, I’d decided that if her husband answered, I’d better hang up. He didn’t, she did.

“Say, Helen, I’m still on sick leave today, but could you come into the office tomorrow? We have some more stuff to ask you about.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, how about Saturday, then?”

“No, we’re going to Fred’s sister’s in Dubuque.”

“Sunday or Monday?”

“I don’t think I should.”

“Why not, Helen? Is something wrong?”

There was a long pause. “No.”

She sounded really quiet and subdued. There was something wrong, all right. Somebody get to her? Husband Fred? Was he the suspect?

“Helen, are you sure?”

Another long pause. Good, I thought. She does want to talk, this isn’t her idea.

“No, there is something. Wrong … Is this being recorded?”

“No, Helen. I’m at home, still ‘recovering.’ ” I laughed.

“Oh.”

Another pause. I didn’t want to say anything … let her talk. But the pause lasted too long.

“Helen, what is it?”

“Not on the phone. Can I see you … not at your office. I won’t go to your office.”

“Well, you could come here, I guess. You know where I live?”

“Yes. But don’t have that other man there. Please.”

“All right, Helen.”

“I have to get groceries. I was just about to leave, anyway. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Well. I figured it was probably Fred, not wanting her to talk to the cops. Not wanting her involved. Not wanting anybody to know that his wife had been the friend of some “different” people. So Fred decided to shut Helen down. Mistake, Fred. Big mistake. I really didn’t care if he liked or trusted me or not. No problem. But don’t screw up the case, Fred. Don’t even think about screwing up the case.

I called Hal back at the office and told him to sit tight—I’d bring him in as soon as I could. I did a quick once-through of the downstairs, making sure it was acceptable
for company. The pictures were still all spread out on the dining room table. That wouldn’t do, not at all.

I didn’t want to put it all away and go to the trouble of setting it all up after Helen left, so I found a tablecloth and threw it over the whole mess. Taking a second or two to look at the montage of the basement with Phyllis’s body lying there.

I won’t let you down, Phyllis. No matter what you thought, you didn’t deserve to die like that. No matter what …

I put on a fresh pot of coffee, and was trying to scrounge up something to eat, when Helen rang the doorbell.

She looked like she’d missed some sleep. She looked over her shoulder and then sort of slipped into the house.

“Can I take your coat?”

She shook her head.

“Come on into the living room … I’ve got some coffee on, but I can’t find any cookies. I don’t suppose you brought any?”

She smiled at that. “No, I’m afraid I didn’t.”

“My fault, didn’t think to ask.” I pointed to a chair. “Here, have a seat.”

She sat down, and Fred, our dog, went over to her and began sniffing her blue jeans.

“Fred!”

She looked startled. No wonder. Same name as her husband.

“Sorry, Helen.” I laughed. “That’s his name.”

“Oh …”

“Let me get some coffee,” I said, and went into the kitchen. Grabbed two cups, the pot, and hustled back to the living room, half expecting to find her gone.

She was scratching Fred’s ears.

I poured the coffee and sat across the room on the couch.

She was wearing a purplish quilted jacket, with a white
scarf around her neck, blue jeans, and gray tennis shoes. Reeboks, I noted. Just a habit. She looked more fragile than she had yesterday, and appeared smaller, somehow.

“What’s the problem, Helen?”

She drank a sip of coffee, looking at me over the top of the cup. When she put the cup down, her hand was shaking just a little.

“I’m sorry I told you those things yesterday.”

“Don’t be. It’s all confidential.” I held up my right hand, palm toward her, and smiled. “I swear.”

“So is Fred. He’s pretty upset about it.”

“Why?”

“He just didn’t like Phyllis and Peggy and Rachel, that’s all.”

“That’s no reason not to tell us anything.” She was really uncomfortable. “Helen, wouldn’t you be more comfortable up at the office?”

“No!” Instantly, vehemently.

“Just thought I’d ask,” I said, and smiled at her. “This is fine with me.”

Silence, while she sipped some more coffee. Then she put the cup down with resolve and stood up.

“I’m sorry, Carl, I never should have come here, and I never should have said anything yesterday.”

“Just a minute, Helen!” She froze. “Look, they were your friends. Something terrible happened to them. You owe it to them to help us find out who did it.”

“Maybe I do, maybe not. I have myself to think of, too.”

She didn’t sound too sure of herself, but she started to move toward the door again, anyway. I was getting a little desperate. She obviously knew something more, something she thought was extremely important. Fred knew it, too. There was some momentum that had been building, and I didn’t want to lose it now. So I took a chance.

“Okay, Helen, but before you go, I want to show you something.”

She stopped.

“Come into the dining room for a second, will you?”

I went in there, and she followed me, looking a little unsure of herself.

“Come here,” I said, motioning her toward the dining room table. She moved closer. I flipped the tablecloth back, revealing the panoramic shot of Phyllis in the basement. She looked, went pale, her eyes widened, her legs buckled, and down she went. I caught her under one arm and eased her into a chair.

“Helen!” Shit, I hadn’t quite expected that much of a reaction.

I kept my hand on her arm, firmly, while I frantically reached over and tried to cover the photographs with the cloth.

She was breathing very hard, very fast. Hyperventilating. Damn!

“Helen, listen to me! Helen, put your head down between your legs.”

She did. And all bent over like that, she started to get the shakes. I patted her on the back, feeling guilty as hell, and feeling that I had blown the whole thing and was probably going to get myself sued in the process. Damn, damn, damn. What an asinine thing to do.

It took her a couple of minutes, but she stopped shaking. Staying bent over, but not shaking.

“Are you all right, Helen?”

Her head nodded.

“Why don’t you sit up, now?”

She did, and I kept my hand on her shoulder, pinning her gently to the back of the chair. I didn’t want her to fall over. She had her eyes closed. After a second she took a deep breath and opened them. I couldn’t read the expression in them, but whatever it was, it sure as hell was intense.

“You okay?”

She nodded.

“I hated to do that to you, Helen. But that’s how we felt when we walked in there. That’s what happened. You need to know what happened.”

She nodded.

I’m bullshitting you a little bit, Helen, I thought. Not completely, it is valid, but just a little. Buy it, and you’ll understand, though. Buy it and we can cut through the crap and get down to reality here.

She was looking up at me, and I still couldn’t read her gray eyes. But the intensity hadn’t diminished at all.

“Take a deep breath, kid. It helps. I know.”

She did.

“Now another one, slow, and let it all out.”

She did, never taking her eyes off me.

“I’ll ask you to forgive me for that sometime, Helen. But not yet. Do you feel well enough to go back into the living room?”

“I think so.”

I helped her back to her seat in the living room.

“Take a sip of coffee …”

She did, obediently. She looked up at me again, and her eyes reminded me of a sad puppy. Ouch.

“There, now just take it easy. You might want to unwind your scarf.”

She did that, too.

“You sure you’re okay now?”

She spoke for the first time. “You’re a son of a bitch, do you know that?” Softly, but with feeling.

“Sometimes, Helen. Sometimes.”

She closed her eyes. “Phyllis and I were lovers. You knew that, didn’t you?”

Wonderful. Just wonderful. I really hadn’t expected that.

“No, Helen, I didn’t. Believe me. If I had known that, I never would have shown you the pictures.”

She shuddered. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know who killed her, Helen.”

Helen sort of gathered herself, and I sat down in the adjoining chair.

“I don’t know who killed her.”

“I think you think you do.”

Silence.

“Who do you think did it?”

She took a deep, shuddering breath and opened her eyes again. Accusing.

“I don’t know. I’m afraid that Fred might have had something to do with it. But I don’t know.”

“Why do you say that?”

She seemed drained. “Because,” she said, “he knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That Phyllis and I were … were lovers.”

That surprised me a little, but it sure explained Fred’s animosity toward the group.

“He, well, he found us. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

She sighed again and closed her eyes tightly.

“He came to use the phone one morning. I thought he’d be in the field all day, but some machinery broke, and he needed a part. He came in, and Phyllis and I were in the bedroom.”

“And he saw you?”

“No. He didn’t see anything much at all. We heard him come in, and we came right out. But I suppose we looked like we were caught …” She opened her eyes. “Do you know what I mean?”

“I think so.”

“We weren’t naked, or anything like that.” Her eyes shut again. “But I thought he could tell that we’d been kissing and things. I thought he could tell, and later, Phyllis said she thought so, too.

“So, that night, after supper, things were really tense with Fred. Really tense.” She opened her eyes and reached for the coffee cup, took a drink, and set it back down.

“So I told him.”

“You told him?”

“I had to. He didn’t want to know, so I never finished what I wanted to say. I guess I should have said that I tried to tell him. He couldn’t handle it, and I should have known that, I suppose. But, don’t you see, I couldn’t handle it, either.”

“So what did Fred do?”

“He told me to shut up, and went in and took a shower, and went to bed. He told me that such things weren’t meant to be talked about. That he could never love me again. That I made him sick to his stomach. That it made him sick. That I was crazy.”

“That wasn’t necessary.” Well, we’ve got a motive here, but I don’t think it’s going to fly, I thought. Normal man would go after Helen, not Phyllis. Couldn’t acknowledge Phyllis as the competition, for Christ’s sake. Ruin his image.