Think Murder (2 page)

After paying the cab driver, I hurried down the almost indiscernible sidewalk at the left of the house that led to my apartment. It’s a relatively upscale neighborhood in northwest Washington, meaning fairly safe, but you can never be too careful.

My apartment is one of three efficiencies that the enterprising homeowner built in his basement. The apartment is one not-so-big room, with fake wood paneling, and a drab industrial quality rug. It was cheap by D.C. standards, and it came furnished. Determined to make it on my own, cheap was a big priority and the location was close to transportation, fast food, and other basic necessities. One day when I make more money, I hope to find something better. At least that’s what I told myself when I moved in two years ago.

My landlord, George, actually Gregorios Collamus, lives alone in the house upstairs. He’s a short stout Greek with a jolly disposition. George is alright as landlords go. He pretty much minds his own business; he’s happy as long as the rent check is in his mailbox on the first of the month.

I arrived home drained and agitated at the same time. My first priority was going to be a long hot shower. But to get to the combination bathroom/shower I had to walk through the tiny kitchenette. Mmm. Food might be a good idea. Comfort food an even better idea. That pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream I’d been saving was calling my name.

I turned on the TV and curled up on the bed to attack the ice cream. I flipped through the channels, but nothing caught my attention long enough to keep my thoughts off Hilary. The ice cream wasn’t helping much either. I needed to talk to someone.

Just then I heard a noise outside the window that opened onto the sidewalk, so I peeked outside. Daniel Sullivan, one of my two basement-level neighbors, rented the efficiency at the end of the row. A nice guy and a lawyer at the Justice Department, he had introduced himself soon after I moved in and we had become good friends. I opened the window and called out, “Hey Daniel, got time for coffee and a chat?”

“Of course, come on over,” he replied with a smile. Even if I did the inviting, we had coffee at his place. There was no coffee at mine. Hate the stuff. But I always bring along the chocolate chip cookies. Besides, his apartment was much larger. I was kind of jealous. He had a small sitting area, complete with a two-seater sofa and a coffee table. Much better for platonic entertaining than a room that has only a bed, bureau, and two very uncomfortable chairs. Our friendship was platonic and staying that way. You’d never know by his outward appearance, but this tall, dark-eyed, dark-haired man was gay.

I put what little remained of the ice cream back in the freezer. Then, with an unopened bag of chocolate chip cookies and diet-coke in hand, I headed out, locking my door behind me. I walked into Daniel’s apartment and collapsed into a chair with a sigh.

Sipping his coffee, Daniel reached for a cookie and turned to look at me. “Is something wrong?”

“Well I suppose you could say so. My friend Hilary died, or was killed, or committed suicide.” My voice aquiver, I added, “I don’t really know what happened – and I found her body.”

Clearly not the answer he was expecting, it took Daniel a few seconds to absorb what I had said. “Wow. No wonder you look shell-shocked. Come over here.” I got up and he pulled me into his arms for a reassuring hug. When I had calmed down, he said, “Now, tell me everything.”

I sat back down and told him what happened. “Hilary and I went to McSweeney’s after work. We drank wine and talked about work and her love life. She got a bit upset and went to the ladies’ room to freshen up. When she didn’t come back, I got worried and went looking for her. I figured she was just having a good cry. Anyway, I found her on the bathroom floor. Dead.”

Daniel didn’t interrupt, so I continued to rattle off the events of the day. “Then I fainted. After I woke up, a detective asked me all kinds of questions.”

Setting his coffee on the table, he piped up, “Detective? What kind of detective?”

“Detective Saks. I think he was a homicide detective.”

Daniel’s protective and legal-minded instincts were kicking in. “Please be careful what you say to the police investigators in the future. Where foul play is involved, the person who finds the body is often treated as a suspect or at least a person of interest.”

I could feel my eyes scrunching up. “He didn’t treat me like a suspect, at least I don’t think he did. He asked me a lot of questions, mostly about Hilary and her state of mind, whether she was depressed, that kind of thing.”

“How did she die?”

“Detective Saks said that they don’t know what happened yet. Her wrist was slit, which means it might have been a suicide. The investigation has just started. But I don’t think Hilary would kill herself. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Did you see her wrists? Were they slit when you found her?”

“I vaguely remember checking one of her wrists for a pulse. I didn’t see her other hand at all, she was lying on that side. I did see a lot of blood though. So I guess that would have to be from the one that was slit.”

“Based on the scene you’re describing, it sounds like suicide is a possibility, or else somebody staged the scene to make it look like one,” Daniel suggested.

“It doesn’t make any sense to me… I don’t know what to think.”

He watched me nibble on a cookie in silence. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. But it’s obvious that you’re exhausted.”

“It’s getting late. I guess I should be going, time to hit the shower, and try to get some sleep. Thanks for listening.” I got up and opened the door.

“Anytime. I’m here if you need me.”

Daniel watched from his doorway as I let myself into my apartment and closed the door behind me.

I headed straight for the shower and took my time as the hot water washed over me. I toweled myself off, and put on my less than sexy yet exceedingly comfortable, fleece-lined sweatpants and t-shirt that double as pajamas. Normally, I blow dry my wavy hair into a semblance of order. That night I couldn’t be bothered.

Alone in bed, an odd sense of emptiness and sadness overwhelmed me. I curled up in a ball, hugging a pillow until I had cried myself to sleep.

I hardly slept that night. If I had thought I’d be able to sleep, I’d have called in sick and stayed in bed. If emotional fatigue isn’t a valid reason for a sick day, it should be. Already awake, I dragged myself out of bed and washed up. My eyes were scary red. With any luck, a few drops of Visine would work magic and some of the puffiness would fade before I got to work.

Despite D.C. wardrobe norms, I prefer to wear conservative yet cheery outfits to work. However, today my dark blue skirt and plain pale gray blouse felt more in keeping with my less than cheery mood.

Without bothering to check the clock, I knew I was running later than usual. Resigned to the fact that I was going to be late for work no matter what I did, I lingered long enough to drink a can of Diet Coke and scarf down a couple of cookies. Maybe the caffeine and sugar combo would jump-start my system.

As usual, I hopped the Metro at the Friendship Heights stop. Considering how preoccupied I was, it’s amazing that I remembered to get off at Dupont Circle. As I walked from the Metro stop to the office, I wondered whether anyone at the DIPPeR knew about Hilary’s death.

A few minutes past 9:30, I entered the reception area and clocked in. Within seconds, the HR Director came toward me, her lips pursed tightly together. Kaye Blunt loved to catch people coming in late or leaving early, or doing anything else that wasn’t in keeping with DIPPeR rules.

I looked her straight in the eye, “Good morning, Kaye.”

She responded, “Good morning, Adina. Would you please step into my office? We need to talk.”

Just what I needed, another one of Kaye’s lectures on tardiness. She closed the door to her office and motioned for me to sit down. In a gentler tone than I had ever heard Kaye use, she inquired, “How are you this morning?”

“Tired, I didn’t sleep very well last night. Sorry I was late.”

Her response surprised me. “Adina, we have been advised of Hilary’s death. I understand that you were out with her at the time. Are you alright?”

“Yes, and no. That’s why I couldn’t sleep. It was horrible, I still don’t understand what happened.”

“Would you like to take the day off? I’m sure Matt can manage without you if it’s too difficult for you today.”

“Thank you. I did consider calling in sick today, but then I’d probably sit around alone all day, crying. I think it might be better if I’m doing something and around other people.” After taking a deep breath, I asked, “Does everyone know what happened?”

“The police department called the switchboard early this morning, asking for information about Hilary. They wanted to confirm her emergency contact information, and such. They seemed to be having trouble reaching her parents, and they found her business card in her wallet. The call was forwarded to me. The officer didn’t go into details – he only said that her body was found in the bathroom at a pub.”

Kaye paused, then added, “The officer mentioned that a female colleague was at the pub with her. Knowing you two were such good friends, I guessed that it was you. He confirmed it.”

She didn’t mention how Hilary had died or that I had found the body, so maybe she didn’t know. It sounded like the police had only given her the basic facts, and I wasn’t in any hurry to volunteer information. When I remained quiet, she continued, “Half an hour ago, the officer notified me that he had succeeded in reaching her parents. We are calling a general staff meeting for 11:00. We’ll make an announcement then. If you prefer to absent yourself, I’ll understand. So far, the only other persons I’ve notified of Hilary’s death are Dr. Grayson and Dr. Stickler. Adina, if you change your mind and wish to take time off, let me know.”

I thanked Kaye and went to my cubicle in the large open space area. I stored my bag in the drawer for safekeeping and booted up the computer. The email from Kaye was already in my Inbox, marked with a high priority flag. It didn’t specify the reason for the meeting, only that attendance was mandatory.

After checking the rest of my incoming messages for anything that required urgent attention, I went to Matt’s office to see if he needed anything. Matt Murphy, Director of Energy Programs, is brilliant and pretty cool for an older man. He’s a great boss and he doesn’t even expect me to bring him coffee. Matt was out somewhere, so I headed into the kitchen to get something to drink. I hate coffee, even the smell of it, but an occasional cup of herbal tea is lovely. Besides, I was restless.

Several people were already in the kitchen, mostly secretaries doing the morning coffee run for their bosses. The women around the coffee maker were chattering away, speculating on the reason for the staff meeting. Brenda, one of the office mavens, was convinced that the meeting was to discuss downsizing or something else related to budgets. I kept silent as I selected a spearmint flavored green tea and added water from the instant hot faucet.

Michelle, a fellow administrative assistant, and Amber, one of the younger secretaries, were seated at one of the cafeteria style tables. Michelle is 25, same as me. We started working at the DIPPeR the same week and we do lunch together a lot.

Michelle called out, inviting me to join them. I was in no hurry to go back to my desk, so I pulled up a chair. They didn’t seem to notice my puffy eyes, or at least they didn’t say anything. They were in the middle of discussing the latest episode of a dating reality show – “The Bachelor.”

Then Michelle asked, “Did you guys see last night’s news. They found a girl dead in that Irish pub in Georgetown. McSweeney’s, I think. Adina, isn’t that the place where you and Hilary like to hang out?”

Fortunately, I didn’t have to answer because Amber piped up, “Yeah. That was terrible. I wonder what happened, who it was. They didn’t say much.”

I gulped down the last of my tea and made my escape. “Better get back to work, Matt has a report that needs to go out today. Catch you later.”

On the way to my desk, I saw that Matt still hadn’t returned. I didn’t have any pressing tasks, so I pretended to work. My cubicle was backed by a real wall, meaning nobody could peek over a partition and see my computer screen – so I began to search the news sites on the internet. Indeed, items on several sites reported that a dead body had been found at McSweeney’s Irish Pub. The more reputable sites stuck to the basic facts – young woman, bathroom of a popular Georgetown pub, and “under investigation.” Then again, a few sites offered their own hypotheses, such as murder, suicide, or even the distasteful suggestion that it might have been a tryst gone wrong. Thankfully, Hilary’s name didn’t appear in any of the articles I read.

As 11:00 approached, people began drifting in the direction of the conference room. It would be a full house. The DIPPeR staff numbers close to 50, and the conference room had seating for only 30. The large oblong table was surrounded by 12 upholstered armchairs, with matching upright chairs dispersed along the walls. In keeping with unwritten rules, the senior staff would be seated around the table, with the rest of the staff standing or sitting along the perimeter.

One of the last stragglers to enter the room, I staked out a spot close to the door so I could make a quick getaway if I started to lose control. I searched the room but I didn’t see Duncan anywhere in the crowd.

Dr. Grayson, the Director of the DIPPeR, stood at the head of the table together with Kaye Blunt. Kaye cleared her throat, “If I could have your attention please.” The chatter in the room gradually subsided.

Dr. Grayson began, “I know that you are all wondering why we have called this meeting. It is with great sadness that I inform you that we have been notified of the tragic death of a staff member, Hilary Sterling.” With the exception of isolated gasps, the assembled staff received the announcement in stunned silence.

After allowing a few seconds for his words to sink in, Dr. Grayson continued, “I know you all have lots of questions. There have been reports in the media and on TV about the death of a young woman in a Georgetown pub. Hilary was the victim. Her family has been informed and her name has been released to the press.”

With tears in my eyes, I scanned the room. Several people were sobbing quietly. Michelle and Amber were seated side by side in the back row of chairs on the far side of the room. Michelle was crying. Amber was staring off into space, biting her lip to fight back her tears.

“The police are investigating the circumstances surrounding her death. The officer in charge of the investigation, Detective Saks, might be requesting interviews with some of the staff.” He looked around the room. “I am confident that he can expect your full cooperation.”

In closing, Kaye added, “Details regarding funeral arrangements and memorial services will be sent out by email once available.”

Kaye and Dr. Grayson headed for the door. The meeting was over. The staff, myself included, began to head out, people speaking quietly between themselves. As I started down the hall, I heard Michelle call out to me, “Adina, wait up.”

She drew near, her eyes brimming with tears. Before I knew it we were both standing in the hall crying, without attempting to hide it. Our emotional state was contagious. We were soon engulfed by seven or eight other women, and the floodgates had opened all around us. Everyone was having trouble believing Hilary was dead, and saying as much.

Eventually, we regained our composure and returned to our desks. It was not going to be a productive day in the office.