Hunting the VA Slayer

by C. M. Wendelboe

  29

  “HAS OBLANSKI FOUND JONAH YET?” Ana Maria asked as she placed the dozen roses in a vase and set them above the fireplace mantle. Arn wondered who her benefactor was, but figured she’d tell him in her own time.

  “Not yet.” Arn answered. “I talked with Chief Oblanski and he put out a region-wide BOLO for Jonah Barb, and Kane did the same from the South Dakota end.”

  “I thought you’d given up on Jonah as a prime suspect?” Ana Maria said.

  Danny entered the room with a piece of key lime pie for he and Ana Maria and set them on TV trays.

  “What’s that?” Arn bent and looked closer to whatever Danny set before him.

  “Diet pudding.”

  “Jonah as a suspect,” Ana Maria pressed Arn for an explanation.

  “It was me that changed his mind,” Danny said proudly.

  “That right?” She asked as she sniffed a rose.

  “In a manner,” Arn said, keeping his cell phone close. “Danny and I talked at lunch in Hot Springs and we kicked around what Ethan told me how he had to take a class in controlling violent patients. On a hunch, I called Sgt. Wagner—he served in Iraq about the time Jonah did. Wagner said violent patients where the norm in field hospitals. Just where Jonah worked as a medic assisting doctors.”

  “But it was me who figured it’d only make sense that medics would be taught controlling techniques,” Danny seemed to beam. “Including that stun thing that knocked Arn on his keister.”

  “I’m still not sure about your theory,” Ana Maria said. “If you think someone can be stunned long enough for someone to hurriedly inject cocaine under your tongue—.”

  “Believe me,” Arn rubbed his neck as if still feeling Holder’s slap, “a person would not be aware of it.” Arn stabbed a piece of pie. “Oblanski said Jonah was nowhere to be found when Colorado deputies went to his compound. Right after your broadcast, it would seem. So, you watch your backside.”

  “Don’t even start with suspending my special again,” Ana Maria said. “If Jonah comes anywhere near my broadcast, Oblanski has plain clothes officers ready to snatch him up.”

  “I checked their website and the RSL doesn’t have any protests scheduled,” Danny said. “If they did, you could bet Jonah would be among them.”

  “Unless he’s on the run,” Ana Maria said, putting a tiny piece of pie on the end of her tongue. “Perfect,” she winked at Danny. “Sorry Arn,” she motioned to his pudding with her fork, “but we’re getting you in shape.”

  “I’m liking the shape I’m in the more diet food and green tea I put down me.”

  “Apparently Samantha Holder does, too,” Danny said.

  Arn chuckled. “You mean the Ice Lady? That’s what Wagner calls her. Seems it’s easier to suck-start a Harley than wrangle a date with her.”

  “But you did,” Danny said. “And that’s what’s odd. No offense, but did it ever occur to you how strange it was that she came on to you that first day? And a few more times since?

  “You don’t think it’s my undying charm?” Arn said.

  “Arn,” Danny said, “you have no charm. She‘s after something else, and it’s not your wit or your Oldsmobile.”

  Arn took a small spoonful of his diet pudding and laid it down without eating any more. “Don’t you think that’s been gnawing on me? She travels to VA facilities in the region where veterans are murdered and comes on to me just when I’m looking for answers?”

  “That’s enough!”

  Arn and Danny stopped arguing and stared at Ana Maria. “There’s nothing linking her to any of the deaths any more than there is linking Winger Hayes to them just because his job takes him to various VA centers.”

  “What did Wagner find about Hays, now that Ana Maria brought him up?” Danny asked.

  Arn took out his pocket notebook right after he forced himself to scoop another spoonful of runny pudding into his maw. “Winger swerved in Iraq. Never went to the field but was assigned Headquarters Company. Self-defense instructor for security police. When the drawdown happened, he was transferred to Ft. Sill, Oklahoma. He got into a row with his CO when Winger got a little too… physical with the recruits in defense class and Winger saw the writing on the wall. Got an early out and nailed a position with the Veteran’s Administration little more than three years ago. This traveling classes is his first duty station with the VA.”e gotH

  “That’s it?” Ana Maria said. She stood and went to the roses and once again sniffed deeply. “That’s what you’re hanging your suspicions on with Hayes?”

  Arn thought about what she said. When he was an investigator at Metro Denver Homicide, he would never have tried building a case based on something as flimsy as what he had learned about Winger. Or Samantha for that matter. He hated to admit it, but his thoughts were getting tangled up. He would have to run the gauntlet of Gorilla Legs and talk with Chief Oblanski once again. “I’ll get a fresh start tomorrow.” He motioned to Danny. “You’re closest to the television—turn it on so we can watch Ana Maria’s taped broadcast.”

  “Not before you explain why,” Ana Maria said.

  “Why what?”

  She sniffed a rose. “Why these? It’s not my birthday, so I figured you had them delivered just to cheer me up.”

  “I didn’t send them,” Arn said, “as much as I’d like to take credit for being a hero. What did the card say?”

  “There was no card.”

  “I didn’t send them, either,” Danny said. “I’m broke.”

  “Come in, guys—admit it. You two were in Hot Springs this morning when they were delivered. I know they have FTD there.”

  “I was with Arn most of the time,” Danny said, “and can vouch he was too cheap to send them.”

  Arn stood and walked to the bouquet of eleven red roses. And one white one. “Who always left a single white rose atop his victims for law enforcement to find?”

  The color left Ana Maria’s face an ashen pallor as she staggered back and dropped into her chair before her trembling legs gave out. “Doc Henry,” she breathed.

  30

  ARN CONNED OFFICER SMITH INTO letting him through the door that led to Oblanski’s hallway. “If Gorilla Legs interrogates you,” Smith said, “tell her it was my twin brother that let you in. And give me a heads-up if she heads this way so I can beat feet from that witch.”

  Arn thought he had successfully sneaked by her when that witch stepped from a side room in front of him. “Step aside,” he commanded. “I got no time for your horseshit this morning.”

  Gorilla Legs balled her fists up for a mere moment before she read something in Arn’s demeanor this morning that gave her pause, and she stepped out of his way.

  When he busted into Oblanski’s office, the Chief jotted on a piece of paper as he held a telephone receiver in the crook of his neck. “I’ll call you back,” he said and hung up when Arn stopped in front of his desk. “I got this feeling that you’re about to kick someone’s ass.”

  “Not kick,” Arn said. “Kill. Doc Henry.”

  Oblanski walked around his desk and motioned to a chair. “You better sit down before you have a heart attack.”

  Arn dropped into a chair while Oblanski sat on the edge of his desk. “Now tell me what’s going on with Doc Henry.”

  Arn breathed deeply as he settled back. “Doc Henry sent Ana Maria flowers.”

  “She see him?”

  “No,” Arn answered, the throbbing of his veins in his head telling him Oblanski could be right—he’d better calm down before he had the big MI. Since he figured it out that it was Doc who sent the flowers, the only thing controlling his rage—and controlling his impulse to drive to Mimi’s Restaurant and throttle him—was a sliver of common sense remaining. And Ana Maria and Danny’s urging him not to. “Underwood Florist delivered them while I was in Hot Springs,
but she wasn’t home either. They were instructed to leave them on the stoop. No card.”

  “Did they have Doc’s name on file as paying for them?”

  “No. When I checked this morning, they said the man who ordered them paid cash. Some little guy with a gray handlebar mustache.”

  “Lots of fellers have handlebars around here,” Oblanski said. He grabbed a pencil and began gnawing at the eraser. “Ana Maria has a lot of fans. Could have been anyone.”

  “Not some old man sporting a full head of wavy gray hair and a battleship tattooed on his forearm.” Arn recalled Doc arguing for leniency at his sentencing hearing in Colorado twelve years ago. As he pulled up his shirt sleeve to show his tat, Doc claimed he had served with distinction two stints with the U. S. Navy. But the only stints Doc served were two long ones for cutting Marines on two different bar fights.

  Oblanski grabbed the pencil from his mouth and tore off a fresh piece of notepaper. “I’m going to talk to Judge Michaels. Get a restraining order on Doc fast-tracked—.”

  “Ana Maria refuses to apply for one.”

  “Refuses? Doesn’t she realize what Doc is capable of? I did some research on that asshole, and he is one sick puppy. I hate to hell to have him in my community and something like this might get him revoked.”

  “She remembers too well what Doc can do.”

  Oblanski put his pencil down. “Without a restraining order, there’s not much my department can do. You know that. But what reason does she give for not filing one?”

  “Pride. Ego. I don’t know,” Arn said, “except she says she doesn’t want to give the son-of-a-bitch the satisfaction of knowing she’s afraid of him.”

  “At least I can double the house checks at your place,” Oblanski wrote down. “And I’ll tell my guys to swing by the television station more often, too.” Oblanski tossed the chewed-up pencil in the round file. “Just what I need right now with the RSL in town.”

  “In town as in protesting?”

  “Affirmative,” Oblanski answered. “Sgt. Wagner called an hour ago. A bus load of them showed up and are amassing just outside the east gate to the VA, with another bus load on the way from Colorado.”

  “You sending troops that way?”

  “Got no choice,” Oblanski said. “The VA police don’t have enough men to handle it. Just had an emergency staff meeting with my lieutenants twenty minutes ago.” He grabbed his hat. “Show yourself out.”

  “You headed there now?”

  “As fast as I can. Why?”

  “Sgt. Wagner called me this morning. He’s been researching the deaths like I asked and put the word out on Jonah. Surveillance cameras caught the wily Colonel at VA centers five of the nine dates that vets have been found dead of apparent heart attacks. If the RSL is protesting, he’s probably close. I might blend in a little more without all that riot gear your officers will be wearing?”

  “All right,” Oblanski said. “But stay out of the way.”

  “I’ll just be another set of eyeballs looking for Jonah Barb among the protestors.”

  —

  By the time Arn and Oblanski had pulled into the VA compound, the other bus of protestors from Colorado had arrived and were off-loading RSL people and signs denouncing the American military. Six police cruisers were already on-scene blocking the road into the VA, while officers—Cheyenne PD and VA Police—in riot gear had formed a skirmish line across where the protestors would march.

  Sgt. Wagner saw Arn standing by Oblanski and left safety behind his sawhorse barricade. He walked hurriedly over while keeping an eye over his shoulder at the developments at the main entrance. “They got bad intentions this time,” Wagner said. “If you can spare a couple officers to cover the rear doors, Chief, I’d appreciate it. If they get inside, there’ll be no containing them.” He looked back nervously. “We just don’t have the manpower. I’ve corralled everyone—my custody control officer before he left for South Dakota, and a janitor who spent eight years as an Air Force AP. I even ordered Samantha Holder to suit up once her secretary locates her.”

  “Samantha’s in riot gear?” Arn asked.

  Wagner winked. “She will be and looking hot. Her primary MOS was military police so she ought to be familiar with riot formations. Bad thing is, if these fools get inside the facility, they’ll overwhelm us in no time.”

  Oblanski whistled to a large Sergeant looking even larger in his riot gear as he padded over to them. “When the sheriff’s deputies and state troopers arrive, send them out back. We don’t want any of these shitheads getting inside.”

  “What do you want me to do?’ Arn asked.

  “Nothing,” Oblanski said. “I can’t risk a civilian getting hurt. Just stay back and out of the way when feces hits the wind rotating device.”

  “Then I’m going inside. See if I spot Jonah.”

  “If you are, take this and show it around.” Oblanski handed Arn a copy of Jonah’s Colorado driver’s license photo before turning to his sergeant. They walked toward the other officers on the skirmish line awaiting the shit to hit the fan, paying Arn no attention.

  He looked around at the scene at the officers stationed around the perimeter and at the entrances. Soon, the back doors would secure, and no one could get in that. But what if the commander of all this mess was already inside? When if Jonah Barb had entered the building and blended with the veterans hours before his troops arrived to begin their protest?

  Arn started for the front door when he spotted the TV van pull up and Ana Maria jump out just ahead of her cameraman. She pulled her hair back and straightened her top while she waited for her cameraman to set the beast on his shoulders. Arn walked close to the van and motioned her aside. “You going to be all right here?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Roll in twenty!” her producer shouted at her.

  “I mean, Oblanski’s got no one to shadow you. If Doc Henry should come near you now— .”

  “Arn, there are a hundred people around here. Doc’s smart enough not to risk doing anything to put him back behind bars until he’s worm food.”

  “Ten! Come on Ana Maria.”

  “Gotta run.” She turned to join her producer and cameraman when she asked, “just what are you doing here?”

  “Jonah’s got to be directing things. He wouldn’t put off being in the limelight for this. I’m going to find him.”

  “And if he you don’t, there’s bound to be some protestors wanting to get their mug on camera in exchange for a little information. Like where their commander is. Gotta run.”

  Arn watched as Ana Maria and her crew approached the protestors chanting and holding their signs. Through the bulge of clothing, Arn saw that some wore shin and knee pads. Others had stuck weapons down their trousers—a pipe here, a homemade blackjack there. Things designed to make the police glad they wore riot equipment.

  He turned and entered the facility, pausing just long enough for is eyes to adjust to the dim hallway. Where the hell are you, Jonah? “You’d have to be somewhere where you could direct operations without being spotted.” Unless… some type of disguise? A janitor’s garb. Kitchen help perhaps?

  Arn walked into the primary care waiting room packed with vets waiting to see their doctors. Normally. To a man and several women they stood staring out the window at the festivities about to begin. One vet handed some folding money to another, and Arn wondered if he was betting on the police or the protestors.

  He dug Jonah’s driver’s license photo out of his pocket and began walking the room, showing veterans the picture, asking if anyone had seen anyone even remotely looking like Jonah. Arn came up empty, but then he figured Jonah would have radically changed his appearance. He surely knew the law was looking for him now and he’d be hard to spot.

  He began walking the halls, trying doors, looking into those empty yet unlo
cked. As he arrived at the end of the hallway, he found himself outside the Service Officer’s room and he entered. “Is Samantha in?” Arn asked.

  The secretary, the same one he’d spoken with before, grinned. “You’re that old feller she’s been seeing?”

  “That’s me,” Arn said. “The old feller.

  “Sam took an early lunch and she hasn’t returned yet,” she checked the wall clock. “And she’s overdue.”

  “I think Sgt. Wagner was looking for her to man a position outside.”

  “Damn protesting bastards,” the woman said. “If they’re not cleared out by the time I get off I might just have to run one or two over getting home. You think for a minute I’m going to miss Jeopardy for them, you got another thing coming.”

  “Tell Samantha I’m wandering the halls whenever she gets back.”

  He continued down another hallway towards the cafeteria and poked his head in. Jonah wasn’t filling his belly, but Ethan Ames stood in line waiting to order. He motioned for Arn to join him. “You keep me company and I’ll buy you lunch.”

  “I’m looking for… somebody.”

  “Found him yet?”

  Arn shook his head.

  “Then maybe he’s not here.”

  “Maybe not,” Arn said. And maybe he never was. “I’m cutting down, but I’ll let you buy me coffee.”

  “Deal.” Ethan slid his tray down the line to the cashier and paid for his burger and fries. “Pick out a booth while I fill my soda cup.”

  Arn filled his cup and sat in a booth away from two nurses and a doctor studying some kind of lab results laid out across his table. “You following those protestors outside?” Ethan said.

  “Hard not to. They’re getting worked up to do some real damage unless they’re contained.”

  “And all they want is for the U. S. military to disband,” he took a bite of his burger. “Or so they claim. I think they’re just a bunch of drunks and dopers and losers who have no problem with the military. I’d wager they’re here just to act up and get crazy.”

  “You don’t sound very tolerant for a… shrink.”