Dr. Hallie Malone Cozy Mystery (4 Book Box Set)

by Liz Turner

  Hallie frowned. “It would have been impossible for Tannen to sneak over here, unlock the door, go up the stairs to the roof, and then somehow lock the door from the other side.”

  “Do you have the keys?” Sergeant Jackson asked the bartender.

  Johnny nodded. “They’re behind the bar.” He dashed over to the next room and came back, a bright silver key dangling in his hands. On Jackson’s prompt, he unlocked the door to the stairs, and the group went up.

  A row of single bulbs flickered in the wide stairwell. Johnny apologized for the dim light. “We haven’t yet had an event up here this fall. We’ve got to replace those bulbs.”

  They walked up the eight floors, and at the end of it, Hallie was feeling her age. If a crew of drunken men can make this trek to reach a party any given night, well then, I certainly can, she thought. And there was the matter of the case. She was intrigued and certainly wanted to see what waited for them on the roof. Not your cut-and-dry suicide, she mused. Another door stood at the top of the staircase, unlocked.

  The three alighted onto the rooftop terrace. It was empty, aside from stray ribbons lining the perimeter railing, which Hallie guessed remained from the club’s last event. Quickly scanning the space, she didn’t see anything that would suggest a man had just jumped from the roof. But then again, what did she expect to find?

  Johnny stood rooted in the center of the roof by the staircase and watched uneasily, while Sergeant Jackson took off in a brisk walk, carefully inspecting every square foot of the place. Eventually, he called out, “I haven’t found anything. There’s nothing here but old ribbon and the occasional empty bottle of libation.”

  Hallie stood by the railing facing the street, the place she guessed Tannen must have jumped from based on his body placement. The wind was stronger up here, but the air was clear, and she could see most of the town—or at least those buildings with lights on. There were vast stretches of complete darkness.

  She ushered the other two over. “Do you think it’s possible that an old man like Tannen could have scaled the railing and jumped off the other side?” The iron railing came up to Hallie’s chest, and she thought it would probably at least reach Tannen’s rib cage.

  “The owner had the railing installed to prevent anyone from accidentally falling off. That’s why it’s so high,” Johnny said absently. He seemed to be deep in thought. He climbed up a few rungs of the railing, then launched back onto the roof. “I suppose Tannen would have been pretty determined to do something like that.” He shook his head. “But there are plenty of other buildings without railings on their roofs. Why choose the one building in town where…jumping would be the most difficult?”

  “I agree, Johnny,” Hallie said. “And this railing rules out any possibility of an accidental fall.”

  “So, it was suicide after all,” Sergeant Jackson said, scribbling in his notebook.

  Hallie didn’t reply, but as she leaned over to look at the twisted body several stories below, she couldn’t help but wonder why the captain wouldn’t have chosen a space just a few feet to the left, where he would have avoided the sole car parked on this side of the street.

  Chapter 3

  Inconclusive

  H allie sat on a stool beside the body in the morgue. She tapped on her cheek intermittently and was looking over her notes from the examination. Most of what she had found had been expected: a broken femur, numerous contusions on the right side where Tannen’s body had taken most of the impact, a shattered rib cage, and the inevitable head injury that had likely caused his death. But certain findings didn’t seem to fit with the fall. For instance, Hallie had documented several lesser contusions on his left side, more indicative of injuries sustained from an altercation of some sort, rather than a fall, not to mention her wonder as to how they got on that side of the body. Secondly, Tannen’s nose was broken badly. Was it possible that the fall somehow shattered his nose from the inside? Tannen had landed on his right side, turned on his back.

  Hallie was perplexed. There was something else that was bothering her about this case. She circled the room, alternately looking down at her notes and back at the body. As she ticked off the injuries, she realized what had been nagging her. Tannen had sustained injuries in every one of his organs. That is, his insides were almost completely obliterated. Liver, kidneys, lungs, all punctured by bone fragments, all smashed down and formless. In a victim of an eight-story fall, she would expect to see the head injury, and she might even expect to see the broken limbs and some damage to internal organs. But not to this extent. No, suddenly she was certain that Captain Tannen had not jumped off the roof of Loch’s Gentleman’s Club.

  Excited, she closed the body and exited the morgue. She began her walk back to the station, eager to tell Sergeant Jackson her findings—and perhaps provide some meager comfort to those who were heartbroken over Tannen’s apparent suicide.

  Out on the street, she was surprised to find a storm brewing. I should have brought my umbrella, she lamented. Warrenton had been fortunate with a few weeks of sunny skies, but the cold front that had rushed in had brought with it other weather changes—like the darkening clouds that hung low outside the morgue. The wind picked up, and Hallie could feel the intense humidity gathered within. She tucked her head down and made for the station, willing the rain to hold off until she made it the few blocks.

  Luck was not in Hallie’s favor, though. She felt a heavy drop plop against her forehead, followed by another on her nose. Oh goodness, she thought, and braced for the downpour. After safeguarding her notebook underneath her blouse, she picked up her pace, holding a hand over her face like a shield. With an almost audible rush, the rain made its descent, pelting Hallie with fat wet drops. Shortly, it became difficult for Hallie to continue; she could hardly see, and the streets were filling with pools of water.

  Shrieking, she ducked into the nearest doorway and huddled under its awning. Her clothing was wet, that was certain. Her hair, a sopping mess. She wrung out her locks carefully before tying them up into a bun atop her head so that her hair wouldn’t continue to drip onto her shirt. She tried, futilely, to wring some of the water out of her shirt and skirt, and turned her shoes over so that a trickle of water poured out.

  She pulled out her notebook and examined its pages. Luckily, the book hadn’t come in contact with much water, and all of her notes from the autopsy were still fully legible. Hallie leaned against the window at her back and sighed, almost laughing. What a perfect start to today, she mused sarcastically.

  As she looked around at her surroundings, admiring the sheet of rain coming down onto the town square, she realized where she had taken refuge. It was the pharmacy right across from Loch’s Gentlemen’s Club. The blue car in front of the club was gone; Hallie supposed a tow truck must have come for it after they’d moved the body last night. Well, at least this storm should wash away any remaining blood from the scene, she thought absently, then immediately regretted her callousness.

  A large vehicle came to a sudden stop in front the club, right in Halle’s line of vision and piqued her interest. At first, she assumed it was a truck, but as she watched, its top-heaviness and somewhat odd shape didn’t quite seem to fit with a truck. Hallie suddenly wished she could wipe away all the rain—she couldn’t see clearly enough to make out what was going on across the street. It’s probably just a delivery van, she assured herself. But she couldn’t help but reason that most delivery vans access the business via the private alleyways in the back, not through the front door. Maybe a customer? Yet, the truck or van or whatever it was still running out front because Hallie could make out the bright headlights, switched on to power through the rain.

  She watched, frustrated, as the vehicle eventually began moving again. It made a sharp U-turn at the end of the street and turned back the way it came. As it drove past Hallie, she eagerly tried to catch a close glimpse at the vehicle, or perhaps even the driver, but it sped up right as it reached her, its wheels dipping into a deep
puddle and causing a wave of dirty rain water to splash over her.

  Enraged, Hallie briskly shook off the excess water. She held up her notebook. It wasn’t too bad, but she needed to dry the thing as soon as she could. It had, at least, fared better than her clothing. The front of her blouse and skirt were stained with a light brown color, and she could feel the flakes of mud hardening on her exposed skin. Gingerly, she touched her hair. It felt filthy. Sighing, she leaned back onto the window. Nothing to do but wait for this rain to stop.

  About ten minutes later, the rain slowed to a light sprinkle, and the sun began to peek out from between breaks in the clouds. Hallie emerged from her hiding place and resumed her trek to the station. They ought to know how much I care about this case, given that I’m willing to show up even when I look an absolute sight, she thought wryly.

  At the station, she ignored the stares and asked for Sergeant Jackson, and shortly, he came up the hallway from his office.

  “Ah, Doctor Malone! Don’t you look like a million bucks!” Hallie felt a flash of indignation at his smirking gaze.

  “Ha, ha,” she responded flatly.

  “What happened, poor dear, get caught in the rain like a regular ole’ street cat?” Jackson quipped, biting back a laugh.

  “Something like that,” Hallie grumbled. “More like I nearly got washed down the street drain like a regular ole’ sewer rat.”

  “Ah, well, I’m terribly sorry to hear that! But I know you wouldn’t have shown up here in that attire if you didn’t have something quite important to share. Are you finished with the autopsy already? What were the results? You know, you could have just sent them over with a messenger, rather than coming here yourself.” His words came out all in a tumble, and Hallie was once again struck by how saddened he must be by his old friend’s death. But before she could respond, he added, “But first, let me fix you some tea and at least saddle you with a blanket. It’s the least I can do.”

  Hallie was grateful. Her clothes were beginning to feel impossibly heavy, and her feet were aching in her wet shoes. “Thank you, that would be wonderful.”

  Once seated in the cafeteria with a dry blanket over her shoulders and cup of warm tea steaming into her face, Hallie turned to Jackson. “So, about the autopsy.”

  “Yes, did the results shed any light on how Tannen might have died? Was it suicide like suspected?”

  Hallie put her finger to her cheek and tapped thoughtfully. “That’s the thing. I wanted to speak to you in person about the results because they were… inconclusive.”

  Jackson frowned, his mustache quivering. “Why don’t you come with me?” He asked, leading Hallie back to his office. Once there, seated in the large fabric-covered chairs on either side of his desk, Jackson leaned forward. “So, what do you mean, ‘inconclusive’?”

  Hallie retrieved her examination notes from her bag. “I was examining Tannen with the presumption that he fell or jumped from the roof of the club. I looked for the usual: broken bones, contusions on the side of the body where he bore most of the impact, the head injury. And, I did find these.”

  “—I don’t understand,” Jackson interrupted. “If his injuries are consistent with the fall, what about that is inconclusive?” He was acting unusually impatient, Hallie noticed. She suspected he might have been hoping for what all friends of her patients hope for: a quick resolution.

  Hallie shook her head. “But they weren’t consistent with his fall, you see.”

  Jackson frowned, appearing more perplexed than ever.

  Hallie continued, “It seems Tannen suffered more than the usual injuries.” She began to read from her notes. “Tannen has contusions on both sides of his body, severely damaged internal organs, and a broken nose. These injuries were unlikely to have been sustained from an eight-story fall.”

  Jackson stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “So, then….”

  “Captain Tannen most likely fell from a height much higher than the roof of Loch’s Gentlemen’s Club.”

  “What would be higher than that? An airplane?”

  “Exactly. Tannen fell from a height taller than any building around.”

  “Well,” Jackson huffed, looking unsure.

  “And that’s not all,” Hallie added. “Some of the injuries—his superficial, recent bruising on the opposite of the body, the broken nose—were probably sustained just before the fall. In a physical altercation.”

  “You mean he was punched?” Jackson asked.

  Hallie nodded. “And immediately after, he fell to his death.”

  “He was punched—out of a plane,” Jackson said, as though he didn’t quite understand the words coming out of his mouth. “Captain Tannen, world-class pilot, war hero, was punched out of a plane?” He looked at Hallie. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

  She nodded again. “Yes.”

  “Who would do such a thing?”

  Hallie returned his gaze. “That’s what we need to find out.”

  ****

  After the morgue, Hallie had gone home to change clothes and then to complete her shift at the hospital. She had considered opting to stay at the police station, but she was fearful that today would be as busy as the last at the hospital, with more flu scares. To her dismay, the hospital proved to be surprisingly slow. She saw her scheduled patients—a standard checkup and a hip replacement consultation—and then assisted her colleagues with a few other procedures.

  There was one unexpected occurrence; a teenage boy had suffered a broken nose after being in a fist fight at school. His father was a patient of hers, so the parents had brought him in specifically to see Hallie.

  The boy, about fifteen years old, was shuffled in by both his mother and father, a professional couple. They looked angry; the boy appeared to be embarrassed. Hallie quickly assessed his bloody shirt and swollen nose and lip.

  Hallie could tell his parents were anxious to pepper her with questions. She could feel the tension in the air. So, she opted to speak directly to her real patient. As she prepared alcohol pads to swab the wounded area, she asked, “So, Simon, what happened?”

  “—He fought somebody at school!” interjected his mother. She was tall and stately, but often nervous, and today was no exception. She wrung her hands. Darting a look at her husband, she added, “His father seems to think he was right to defend himself with his fists. I think violence is never the answer.”

  “I see,” Hallie said, partly amused and partly annoyed. “You were defending yourself, Simon? And they punched you in the nose?”

  “The other guy was being a jerk, calling me names, so I clocked him right in the stomach. I’d say I was defending myself, right, Dad?” He paused for split-second, then added cautiously, “Is it broken?”

  Ignoring that comment, Hallie looked at the nose closely and gently ran her fingers around the bones. “Yes, I’m afraid it is broken,” she said, addressing both the teenager and his parents.

  The father harrumphed. “What did I tell you, Simon? One hand blocking the face, the other on offense. This is the result of you not listening to me, yet again.” As he spoke, he demonstrated a boxing stance with his owns fists, jabbing one-two into the air in front of his wife’s face.

  His wife, in turn, flashed a helpless look at Hallie. “Howard!” she shouted.

  “Mary! I’m teaching the boy how to fight properly! Do you want him to come home with a broken nose, or God knows what else, every time he gets in an altercation?”

  “I want him to not fight at all,” the wife stubbornly replied.

  Hallie felt compelled to intervene before tears began flowing or voices were raised further. “Simon, we’re going to have to reset your nose. It’s going to hurt. So, just remember the pain of it next time you think about throwing a punch at someone.”

  “Oh!” moaned his mother. “You’re going to be brave, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, it’ll be worth it if he shuts up about being the best soccer player in the ninth grade,” Simon said smugly, cross
ing his arms. “Pain isn’t anything. I’m an athlete. Pride is what matters.”

  Hallie sighed and began the preparations for the bone set. Sneaking a look at his father, she caught him staring lovingly at his son. Violence is not the answer, she wanted to scream. But her place was to fix the damage, not necessarily to prevent it.

  ****

  A few hours later, Hallie was just arriving back at her house from working at the hospital. After the broken nose, the rest of the workday had been uneventful, just her usual patients coming in for various checkups and consultations. Not a single medical emergency to distract her from the case. Not even any swarms of well-meaning patients insisting they had contracted influenza.

  Even though she had gone to work as usual, she had insisted Sergeant Jackson call her at the hospital as soon as a lead turned up, but she hadn’t received any calls all day. It had been hours, and now at home, she was growing antsy. Turning onto her street, she spotted Johnny waiting on her stoop.

  “Johnny?” she called out, for the second evening in a row.

  “Doctor Malone!” He waved at her, but then seemed to lose his enthusiasm, letting his hand drop to his side.

  “Why, what is it?”

  “I, er, I wanted an update on Captain Tannen, I suppose. I know you did the autopsy. The police wouldn’t tell me anything. I just feel terrible about the way he died like that, right in front of my nose.” He looked at Hallie sheepishly.

  Hallie thought for a moment. Could she trust him? At any rate, she thought, he might know something. She decided to tell him what the autopsy had revealed. Upon hearing, his eyes became round and a shade of fear passed over his face.

  “What?” he said incredulously. “If I’m hearing you right, you’re saying someone murdered Captain Tannen?” He sat down on the stoop. His shoulders drooped.

  “It appears that way,” Hallie said. “Now, can you think of anyone who might have had some reason to kill Tannen?”

  Johnny was silent for a minute. Finally, he spoke. “Not really, I don’t, Doctor Malone. But something else did occur to me. Tannen was the best pilot around here for miles. If he was pushed—er, punched—out of the plane he was in, well, there must have been someone else inside the plane to land it. And that certainly narrows down the possible suspects, doesn’t it?”