For the next two days the three men hid out in the hotel. Every now and then one of the police officers would leave the room briefly to smoke outside and surveil the hotel and surrounding area. Quinn had his whiskey bottle with him, pulled it out of his breast pocket to sneak a drink whenever he could without being noticed. Professor Eisenbach repeatedly asked to use the phone or smoke outside in the hotel’s back parking lot. Quinn denied Eisenbach’s request and explained time and again for security reasons the professor could not show his face outside. Quinn also ordered Eisenbach to stay away from the windows. Quinn knew that even allowing Eisenbach to speak on the phone for a moment to anyone was risky and might endanger all of their lives. And Quinn had his orders.
Chapter IX
The two days passed without anything out of the ordinary happening. Quinn was tired and slept most of the time in the adjoining room. Ethan, Quinn’s partner for this mission, went out and brought food back for the three of them to eat. Quinn carefully concealed his bottle of bourbon at all times. It was Quinn’s relief from stress as drinking had become an integral part of his life. Even still, he was careful when he took out the bottle for a quick nip. They left instructions at the front desk that they would forgo maid service, so there wasn’t even a knock on the door while they were there. The phone didn’t ring, and all was quiet over the weekend. So why did Quinn have an uneasy feeling? With all the effort put into this, things were going according to plan. But were things going too smoothly?
They had their instructions. They would leave the room Monday morning at 10:10. Quinn thought this was an odd time, but the idea was to not cause or draw attention to their behavior. The three men would drive Quinn’s Packard over to a wide-open space with one hangar, which was used as a private airport (and several years later would actually be named Cutter-Car Airport) in southeast Albuquerque. Quinn had his driving route in an envelope, which he would open only moments before they left the hotel. The drive would take about 15 minutes. Everything appeared to proceed according to plan that Monday morning as they were ready to leave.
They quietly exited the room, loaded their luggage into the back of Quinn’s car in the parking area behind the hotel, and prepared to leave in the Packard. There was nobody outside other than the occasional car passing by. There was little foot traffic on the street. Quinn took the driver’s seat, Ethan Clark the passenger seat, and Professor Eisenbach sat in the back. Quinn pulled out from the parking area and turned the corner onto the adjoining street, Lomas Boulevard. None of them saw or heard the oncoming large truck approaching from their left a block or so away. The large white truck had no license plates.
The trio in Quinn’s Packard approached the first intersection and came to a stop. It wasn’t until Quinn moved into the intersection of Lomas and Central that he noticed out of the corner of his eye, the large white mass approaching from his left side. Quinn didn’t even get the chance to turn his head…the Packard was struck directly on the driver’s side by the large, quickly accelerating truck. The truck with no markings had reached 24 miles per hour upon impact. It hit the Packard with such force that it pushed Quinn’s car through the intersection and compressed it against the streetlight on the far side. The initial impact caused all three men to strike their heads against glass or on some part of the metal interior of the vehicle. All three men were thrown from side to side in the car. Quinn smashed his forehead on the front dashboard, opening a large bloody gash. He also suffered a severe concussion. Most of Quinn’s ribs were broken, and the impact snapped his collarbone.
All three men were unconscious and bleeding; unaware of each other’s fate that day. Quinn was hunched over the steering wheel motionless, fading in and out of consciousness. He thought he heard the sound of voices, but he had lost a lot of blood and passed out again.
Chapter X
Hospital food has generally been pretty much the same the world over…it’s always had nutritional value and has been filling, but is generally tasteless and devoid of appeal. Quinn had his opportunity to experience a fair amount of hospital food daily at Parkside General Hospital in Albuquerque. He was their guest for nearly two months as he remained in a coma for seven days, and rehabbed the remainder of his time there. When he woke up, he tried to speak but had trouble remembering how to form words into a sentence. “Ahh…,” he moaned as he opened his eyes. “Wha…?” he barely muttered.
The attending nurse walked in and noticed Quinn slowly waking up. “You’ve been unconscious for a few days,” she told him. “You still need a lot of rest and recovery. Do you remember anything that happened?” she asked him. When he didn’t answer, she continued. “You were in a very bad car accident.”
Quinn struggled, but finally found the words. “How long have I been here?”
“This will be your eighth day,” she stated. “Don’t try to get up…I’ll get Dr. Reynolds. You still have a bad head injury.”
“The others with me…what happened? The older man?” asked Quinn.
“I don’t know,” replied the nurse. “I’ll try and find out what I can, but I don’t know any details. I don’t even know if the others involved are here. You have a significant amount of healing to do before you go anywhere,” she stated.
Quinn tried to move his left leg, but the pain was excruciating. “Ahhh…!” he yelled out. He also became aware of the tubes from the intravenous drip and the catheter attached to him.
“Don’t try and move now. You haven’t had any physical activity for a full week…it will be painful for you to move at all for a while. Your rehabilitation will take time. You’re going to have to be very patient,” the nurse said.
So, he spent the next six weeks in rehabilitation and recovery at Parkside General Hospital. He couldn’t walk for another two weeks, and when he did get out of bed he wasn’t able to keep his balance. He fell down again and again. He couldn’t speak coherently for another two weeks. Even when it was time for Quinn’s discharge, he still had head bandages and needed to use a cane. He would need the use of a cane off and on for the next few years. Quinn’s automobile, the 1937 Packard was completely demolished as a result of the accident.
He was told his partner for this mission Ethan Clark was alive but severely injured with a head injury. Clark had lost his spleen as a result of the accident. He was at the other large hospital, University Hospital in Albuquerque, in traction, and his recovery would be even longer than Quinn’s. After asking several times, Quinn was finally told Professor Eisenbach died at the scene of the crash. Quinn wasn’t given any other details except that the professor’s daughter had come to Albuquerque to claim the body and no official statement was issued by any hospital or the police department regarding the professor. When Quinn pressed the hospital personnel for more information, he was told they had divulged all they knew about Professor Eisenbach.
Finally came the day when Quinn would be released. He had recovered enough to get around on his own. He still felt pain at times in his leg that had been partially shattered, and when he turned his head at all he felt pain running from his neck down his back. But with great effort it appeared that Quinn would be able to walk, talk, and eventually live a normal life without medical assistance.
The accident consumed his thoughts and attention. All he thought about day to day was getting out of the hospital so he could begin his own investigation into what happened on that tragic day…and discover who caused it. Once released from the hospital, he was placed on medical leave by the police department for another month to convalesce…so as long as he could get around, he would investigate. And amazingly, no one from the PD told him not to do so. He knew the only way he’d ever make it to the top floors would be through the use of an elevator. Would he ever resume his duties as a police officer again? At this point, that concern was the last thing on his mind. He was again told that Professor Eisenbach had died at the scene; that the driver of the truck had run away without being pursued or caught. The truck had no license plates and the police c
ouldn’t trace it. The incident appeared to have no explanation as no one claimed responsibility. Most concerning to Quinn was that no real investigation had been initiated by the department in over two months since the accident. It seemed as if the event had already been forgotten. Quinn was determined, however, to find out everything he could.
When he was released he could barely walk, and had no use of a car. Quinn was forced to take taxis everywhere for the time-being. The cab dropped him off at the Grand Marquee. It hurt him to walk ten feet, but to Quinn this pain was bearable. With the use of his cane he hobbled into the hotel lobby and quickly got into the elevator. He took it up to the fifth floor. Quinn struggled to shuffle out, and down the hallway. He began knocking on doors. The first door on the side overlooking the street opened, and an elderly man answered.
“Sir, I’m a detective with the Albuquerque Police Department,” Quinn stated as he held his badge up for the man to inspect. “I’m sorry to interrupt your day, but a bad accident occurred outside several months ago and I’m investigating.”
The man studied the badge intently, taking out his glasses from a shirt pocket.
Quinn said, “Can you provide me with any information? Do you remember what happened out front at that time? Were you here on the morning of Monday, June 2?” Quinn held his notebook in his left hand and pen at the ready in his right hand.
The elderly man told Quinn that he was having breakfast when he first heard the commotion of the crash outside. He stated when he looked out of his window, he didn’t see anyone at first, but then a young man exited the cab of the truck and ran in the opposite direction down the street. “That’s what first caught my attention…a guy got out and ran the other way. Then the people from downstairs in the hotel came running out,” he said. “Mr. Garvin from 535—three doors down—he actually went down there right after to help. I saw him outside with the others, by the black car pressed up against the streetlight,” the elderly man said. “It was a bad accident…there was glass and metal from the car all around. I went down later after the police came. At that time there wasn’t much I could do to help at all. I just stood around,” he said.
Quinn went to apartment 535 to speak to the owner. A man answered the door. He had greased black hair neatly combed back, appeared to be in his 40s, and was wearing gold-wire-rimmed glasses. Quinn presented his badge. “Please, sir, can I speak with you for a moment about the auto accident that took place about three months ago in front of the hotel?”
“What do you want to know?” asked Leland Garvin. “I was only there for a few minutes…the hotel clerks moved everyone back to the sidewalk from the street. “I could see I wouldn’t be of any use, so I left and came back upstairs.”
“What, and who, did you see?” asked Quinn.
“Well, I was up here when I heard the loud crash. The car’s horn went off and sounded loud for ten minutes. I looked out the window. I saw a man get out of a large white truck. He sprinted in the opposite direction down Central,” said Garvin.
“What do you remember about him?” asked Quinn.
“Not that much,” said Garvin. “I remember he wore a dark knit cap…like a dockworker’s cap, and he appeared to be young and agile from the way he jumped out of the truck and sprinted away down the street. He didn’t hesitate for a second. He got out of that truck cab and made a run for it. His other clothes were dark colored. I couldn’t see his face. I wish I could tell you more, but I wouldn’t recognize that guy today if I passed him on the street. And Sergeant, I’ve been asking myself… what happened to the truck?”
“What do you mean?” asked Quinn.
“Well I looked out again about an hour later, and the truck had been removed. The three men in the car were unconscious, and I didn’t get a good look at anybody in the car,” Garvin stated. “The way that white truck was banged up…I just don’t know how it was gone so soon after and I never heard a thing.”
“I was one of those men in that smashed Packard sedan, Mr. Garvin,” said Quinn.
“I apologize…I had no way of knowing…I wish you a full and complete recovery, Sergeant,” said Garvin. “We did everything we could to contact the police and hospital and get an ambulance here as soon as possible,” said Garvin.
“Is there anything else you can tell me…?” asked Quinn.
“No, like I said I wasn’t there very long…and I had no authority to do much to help,” said Garvin. “You should ask Velma Price if she remembers anything. She was at the scene right after me and stayed longer…I think she may have even talked to the police. She’s four doors down the hallway. Number 543. Good luck to you Sergeant, on your recovery,” said Garvin as he shook Quinn’s hand. Garvin then began to shut his door.
Quinn then went to speak with Ms. Velma Price, further down the hallway. Ms. Price was a woman seemingly in her 40s, with a thin face, and brown hair tied behind her head in a bun. She also wore reading glasses. By all appearances she was a studious person…like a librarian. “I tried to help the injured men inside the car, but there wasn’t much I could do,” she said. “The driver and the man in the backseat were unconscious and bleeding from their wounds,” she said. “The man in the front passenger seat appeared to be unconscious, but every now and again he would mumble something,” she said.
“And what was it he said?” asked Quinn.
“I couldn’t make his speech out,” she replied. “He was bleeding badly too. It was a terrible accident. The black car was pressed up and against the lamppost on the corner down below by the white truck. I brought down two blankets and used them to cover the men in the driver’s and front passenger seats, and I brought down some water and towels. That’s about all I could do before others took over.”
“How long did you stay at the scene?” asked Quinn.
“Oh, I was there for a good forty-five minutes, but things seemed to happen so quickly. I was there when the police and ambulance arrived,” she said. “There is something else…before the police arrived, a man and woman showed up and pulled the injured man from the backseat, and moved him across to the other side of Lomas. Several people tried to stop them and told them to leave the man alone, but they brought the man out and across the street very quickly. It was the strangest thing. They just appeared out of nowhere. They laid him down on the sidewalk across the way, and then not long afterward they disappeared.”
“Did you watch what transpired between the three of them?” asked Quinn.
“They must have helped him because the ambulance personnel were attending to him when I went back inside,” she said.
“What did the woman look like?” asked Quinn.
“Well, she was tall…at least five feet nine inches, perhaps taller. Her head and neck were covered. She wore dark glasses,” said Ms. Price. “But there was one thing…”
“What was that?” asked Quinn.
“She wore a grey and white checkered neck scarf. Looked like wool or cashmere. She caught the scarf on part of the car as she pulled the man out from the backseat. A small piece of her scarf tore off. I saw it after they left and picked it up off the ground. When they left, they took off so quickly. I’ve kept it just in case…let me get it for you Sergeant,” said Ms. Price.
She opened up a small drawer on the top of her large desk, and she took out a small cloth bag. She handed the bag to Quinn. Inside was a soiled, torn piece of cloth 3 x 2 inches with some knitted wool strands on one side. It obviously came from a larger garment. And it looked to be the end of a scarf.
“Thanks so much,” stated Quinn. “I’ll take this for investigation. I may be back at a later time to ask some additional questions,” he said.
“That’s fine, Sergeant,” she said. “I think I’ve told you everything…but if I remember something else, I’ll make sure to write it down for you.”
All in all…not a bad day at the Grand Marquee , Quinn thought to himself. Hell, it’s a start. I’ll find the truth eventually.
He made two more trips over to th
e hotel after that day to canvass the residents and staff, but didn’t learn much new information. Everyone’s story was about the same. Nobody spoke to or recognized the two strangers that had removed Eisenbach from the back of the car. Had Eisenbach been alive or dead at that point? Did the two strangers who showed up help keep Eisenbach alive, or did they finish the job and kill him? With the sketchy information Quinn had, it was impossible to tell. He had to fully find out what had happened, before he could ever begin to answer the real question…why?
But now, Quinn had to take care of himself. After more rest, therapy and exercises eventually he was allowed back at the PD on limited duty. He returned to the police department in an administrative capacity in mid-September, and to his job at the citizen complaint desk. But that’s not what Quinn wanted. Quinn wanted desperately to regain his status as detective. He thought about everything he and Ethan Clark had been through. In Quinn’s mind, not only had they earned their spots on the force, but commendations for their sacrifice and an appropriate reward.
We should be treated like the celebrities of this department!
Chapter XI
Quinn had gone through rehab at the hospital and had returned to work and limited duty when during the first week of October he received word Captain Garrett wanted to see him again. He hadn’t been up to the captain’s office since his last briefing. This meeting would take place in a large conference room on the first floor due to Quinn’s injuries.
“Well I’ll be!…There’s Quinn Chase!” said Garrett with his outstretched hand and a broad smile. “It’s so damn good to see you!! Let me start by saying we’re very proud of the sacrifice you and Ethan made on behalf of the department, and for our country, in safeguarding Professor Eisenbach. It’s too bad it ended the way it did, Quinn…but from our internal investigation I’m overjoyed to report that no blame will ever be placed on you or Ethan. You performed just as you were trained and expected to. Everything you did was right. What happened was totally unexpected and a complete surprise. It was beyond your control.”
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