Your Eight O'clock is Dead

by Kat Jorgensen

  I could feel my frustration grow. “Daisy, he’s here. I know he’s here.” I forced myself not to pick up Joe’s picture.

  Daisy shook her head no.

  No. No? No!

  Damn!

  “You mean you don’t recognize any of these people?” I pushed a tad harder.

  Another shake no.

  I didn’t believe it.

  “Daisy, let me assure you. None of these people can hurt you. When we turn the name of the killer over to the police, they will protect you.”

  “What the hell are you doing back here? You cannot be this stupid, Becca.”

  That man and his damn cat-feet.

  Daisy rushed to her brother’s side, and he enveloped her in his arms protectively.

  “It’s okay, sis. I know. Becca’s very persuasive. I know it’s not your fault that she’s here.” Ryder gave me one of his patented accusatory looks.

  “I can explain.”

  “No you can’t,” he said.

  “Oh yes, I can. I have a picture of the murderer.”

  “Good. Give it to the police. And get out of my home.” Ryder’s tone left no room for argument, but that didn’t stop me. I was too far gone on my quest for justice.

  “Don’t you realize that your sister witnessed a murder? Do you think it’s safe for her to carry around that information? Especially while a killer is on the loose. And for your information, it was a guy who killed Robert O’Malley. Not his wife Edna. Daisy was in the supply closet when the murder happened. She saw the murderer through the louvered doors.” I slowly wound down, and Ryder shifted his attention from me to Daisy. Uh-oh.

  I’d just given up Daisy’s secret.

  And to a control freak, no less.

  Daisy would be lucky if Ryder didn’t hire a bodyguard for her.

  “Sis? What’s Becca babbling about?”

  Daisy pushed out of Ryder’s safe embrace and rushed to the other side of the room.

  “Becca, what have you gotten my sister into?”

  “Me? I wasn’t there, remember? I was late that day.” I picked up the pictures from the coffee table and handed them to Ryder. “The murderer is in there. I snapped some random shots of patients and the murderer. I brought them here so Daisy could pick the guy out.”

  Ryder seemed dubious. “And did she? Pick the guy out?”

  “Ah… Well, no. But only because you interrupted us.” Or so I hoped.

  “Sis, you know any of these men?” Ryder strode to where Daisy sat and fanned the pictures out like a hand of cards.

  Again, with the head shake.

  “She doesn’t know anybody.”

  Ryder handed the photos back to me.

  “And I’m telling you the murderer is in there.” I flicked the photos at his chest.

  “If Daisy says she doesn’t recognize anybody, she doesn’t,” he insisted.

  “But that’s just it. Daisy hasn’t said anything.”

  Ryder gave me a look that should have flattened me. “Get out.”

  “Just give her one more chance. I’m sure she’ll recognize him. It’s for her own protection. You know that as well as I do. As long as a killer remains at large, Daisy is in danger.”

  “The only person Daisy is in danger from is you, Becca. I think you’ve said more than enough. You’ve upset my sister - and me - for the last time. Now leave.”

  “But Ryder…”

  He cut me off. “Out, Becca, before I forget I’m a gentleman. I’ve had more than enough of your meddling.”

  Meddling? I was trying to solve a double homicide.

  “But….”

  He pointed to the door.

  “Daisy, please take one more peek,” I said as Ryder not so gently pushed me to the front door.

  I thrust the photos into Ryder’s hand. “Get her to look at them. She saw the murderer. And she’s not going to be safe until he’s behind bars.”

  “You leave my sister’s safety to me.”

  And suddenly I was out on the front porch. Once again Ryder’s door shut firmly behind me.

  Chapter 33

  All the way back to the office, I pondered Daisy’s reaction to the photos. She hadn’t fingered Joe Rizzo as the person she’d seen kill Robert O’Malley.

  So I returned to that familiar place called square one, not knowing who the real killer was. And not having a clue. If only I could find a way to reach Daisy, to get her to identify the murderer. But for whatever reason, her communication ability was certainly compromised.

  Sure, Ryder may think he could protect Daisy, but I didn’t believe it. Look at me. I’d managed to find out where they lived, and I’d finagled my way into their home not once, but twice. If I could do it, the killer could, too.

  And in that instant a plan formed in my mind. I couldn’t put Daisy’s life in jeopardy. Whatever she’d endured in her life so far was more than any one person deserved without also being bait for a murderer. I’d have to set myself up and let it be known that I’d seen more than I really had.

  I’d have to be the cheese in order to lure the big, murderous rat.

  Little prickles of excitement raced up and down my arms. My fingertips tingled on the steering wheel. I had a plan again.

  “Where have you been, Miss Reynolds?” Dr. Dick asked me as I hurried into the office.

  “Had to pick up some supplies,” I managed between trying to get my breath and not tip over with my wonky heels.

  He gave me the once over.

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Where are the urgent supplies?”

  I had nothing. Nothing but a broken shoe.

  “Well, you see I was on aisle four headed for the stuff I needed when the heel to my shoe snapped off. I lost my balance and when I fell I kind of knocked over a display. Some nice gentleman tried to help me get up, but with the broken heel I just couldn’t get my feet under me and well, I pulled him down on top of me.” I warmed to my story. “Pens and highlighters scattered everywhere. You’d be amazed at how far that stuff can roll. The other shoppers stopped to help us get back on our feet and get the display cleaned up. By the time all of that was done, I’d forgotten what I’d gone in for. Then I checked my watch and it seemed late so I hurried back here.” I took a deep breath. It was the most pitiful cover story I’d ever come up with, but it was all I had.

  “I see.” He squinted his eyes.

  “I’ll go back after work and get what we need on my own time. I’ll just go to another supply store. I may not want to go back to the first one anytime soon. Not that they barred me from shopping there or anything. I just think it’s best. Under the circumstances. Don’t you?” I hobbled over to my chair and took a seat and tried to straighten the papers on my desk and appear to know what I was doing.

  “For the best, I’m not sure. Just do what you need to. And please don’t leave the office unattended unless it’s an actual emergency. Running out of supplies doesn’t qualify.”

  “Even if Marcy uses that particular supply?”

  “Dr. Palmer asked you to go?”

  I knew better than to bluff my way through that potential quagmire. Dr. Dick would check out my story with Marcy and the jig would be up.

  “No, she didn’t ask me. But it is something that she uses and gets a bit upset over if we run out. I was just trying to keep the ship running on smooth seas if you get my drift.” There that was ambiguous enough.

  “Well, perhaps you should stop after work and pick it up. We don’t want Marcy upset. She’s had a lot on her mind lately. We all have.”

  I almost saluted. “I’ll be sure to pick it up tonight and bring it in tomorrow before she even knows we’re out.”

  Dr. Dick smiled his constipated smile at me. “Have you or your grandfather talked to Edna lately?” he asked, concern clouding his voice.

  “I haven’t, no. But Granddad and Edna’s mother have been seeing a lot of each other lately.”

  He arched his eyebrow. I couldn’t
agree more.“So Mrs. Smith or your grandfather may know something?”

  “It’s possible. Granddad and I keep missing each other.” I’d almost made sense out of what had been dumped on my desk in my short absence.

  “If you do hear anything, please let me know.”

  I nodded, and he disappeared into his office.

  Glancing up at the clock, I realized I had a few more minutes before the next patient arrived.

  Precious minutes where I could try to figure out how to trap a killer.

  “So, I was standing right here putting my lunch away when the killer came into the office.” I demonstrated for our four o’clock patient the position Daisy must have occupied behind the louvered doors.

  “You must have been terrified.”

  The patient put down the boating magazine he’d started to page through.

  “I was. I thought for sure he’d hear me and come after me.”

  “So what did you do?” The patient stared at me, horror marring his pleasant features.

  “I waited until he left before I came out. And I pretended I’d just gotten to the office, you know to protect myself. That way he wouldn’t know that I’d seen him.”

  I stepped out into the office and closed the supply closet door behind me.

  “You can identify him?”

  “I think so.”

  “I guess the police are providing you protection.”

  “Protection from what?” Dr. Daley asked as he emerged from his office to get his 4 o’clock patient.

  “This young lady has just been telling me the most fantastic story of how she witnessed the murder that happened here.” The four o’clock patient rose and joined Dr. Daley.

  Behind his back, I made a circular motion with my index finger near the right side of my head. Dr. Dick frowned. Good thing I’d be gone by the time he got out of session.

  I spent the next several days reenacting my witness to the murder scene scenario with any male patient who would listen. Most were horrified. None seemed like a suspect. I suspected this might be another idea of mine that wasn’t going to pan out.

  “Becca, come here, please.”

  Marcy made it clear she meant now.

  I set aside the stack of claim forms and hurried inside her office.

  “What’s this I hear about you being a witness to the murder of Robert O’Malley?”

  I gulped so loud, she must have heard it. “Who told you that?” I tried to laugh, but it came out sounding hollow and contrived.

  “The first client who commented on it, I dismissed. My mistake. The second and third, I gave credence to. Especially when one told me in minute detail exactly what you saw and how you saw it.

  Now what I want to know is whether you saw something or not?” She leaned forward, eyes cold.

  I gulped again and cleared my throat. “I may have.”

  “Becca, you either saw something or you didn’t. It isn’t rocket science. Now, what did you see?”

  I’d gone along with this charade for the past couple of days. If I confessed now that it was a lie, I was shooting my plan in the foot.

  No, I had to keep up my lie.

  “I’m waiting, Becca. What did you see?”

  “I didn’t see the actual murder. I mean from my angle, I really couldn’t.”

  “Your angle?”

  “From the supply closet. I was putting my lunch away when I heard someone come in. After they stabbed Mr. O’Malley, I peeked out from under the slats in the door and I saw him.”

  “You saw the killer?”

  “Yes.” My heart beat like a trip-hammer at my lie.

  “Have you told the police?”

  “Not yet.” I could hear my heartbeat in my ears and sweat trickled down the side of my left ear. I was horrible at lying. Horrible.

  “And why not?”

  “I have my reasons,” I said with false bravado.

  “You do realize that an innocent woman is in jail and could be freed based on your knowledge.”

  I couldn’t meet Marcy’s stare, and I let my gaze drop.

  “Oh, Becca. You’re frightened.” She circled the desk and hugged me.

  It was the last thing I expected her to do. Rant. Rave. Berate me over poor Edna. Yes. Hug me. No.

  “You poor darling. How traumatic for you.” She led me to a nearby chair, one reserved for her clients. “Sit. Let’s talk about this.”

  Talking about my big fat lie was the last thing I wanted to do right now. Bolt out of her office and run screaming into the hall sounded like a much better plan. What kind of an idiot was I to think my stupid plan to flush out a killer would work?

  She pulled Kleenex out of the pretty dispenser on the table between the two chairs. “Here you go. Blow. You’ll feel better.”

  I took the tissues, afraid that if I didn’t she’d lean over and put them to my nose like a toddler.

  “Good. Now once you compose yourself, I want to hear every detail. Leave nothing out.” She’d gone into full therapist mode, and it was freaking me out.

  “Uh, there’s really nothing to tell except what I said before.”

  “Concentrate. Close your eyes. You’re in a safe place with me. No one can hurt you. Go back to that morning and tell me what you see. Go on. Close your eyes now.”

  I had no choice. She was relentless. And she had the power to fire me. I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer. I knew this was wrong in principle, but I could still justify it in my own unique way.

  “What do you see?”

  “The office.”

  “Of course you see the office,” she said sharply. And then softer, “What do you see in the office?”

  “The usual.”

  I could tell by her exasperated sigh she was losing patience with me. “Yes, yes. But do you see Robert? Mr. O’Malley?”

  I scrunched up my face as if trying to see better when in fact I hoped to buy a little time to come up with a more plausible lie.

  “Becca, I do realize how difficult this is. Many of my patients block out unpleasant events. But it is vital that you remember that morning. Please try again.”

  “I see Mr. O’Malley. He’s in his usual chair.” That much was true. I just didn’t add that he had Dr. D.’s letter opener sticking out of his abdomen.

  “Good. You see Robert. Is there anyone else in the office besides the two of you?” Her voice grew lulling and almost hypnotic.

  “No.” Again, I spoke the truth.

  “Good. Now what?”

  “I went to the closet.” Okay so I didn’t have my lunch, but I did go to the closet, only after Daisy had been there and witnessed the actual murder.

  “And that’s when someone came into the office, while you were in the supply closet?”

  “They must have. They weren’t there before.” Liar, liar.

  “So you stayed where you were. Why? What alerted you not to go out there?”

  I tried to pretend I was Daisy.

  Why would I have stayed in the closet?

  Maybe because I didn’t like to be around a lot of people, or I might get fussed at for hiding, or any of a dozen reasons.

  A cold hand touched my wrist and my eyes flew open. “It’s okay. Remember you’re in a safe place where no one can harm you.”

  Who was she kidding? I sat a mere ten feet away from where Robert O’Malley had been killed.

  “Deep breath, Becca. We’re so close to having a breakthrough.

  Now close your eyes again and concentrate. Why did you stay in the closet?”

  “I was frightened,” I said in a small voice imagining Daisy’s reaction.

  “But what frightened you?

  Angry voices? Or something else?”

  “Voices.”

  “Good. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  Well, I’m glad she thought so.

  I was simply digging myself deeper and deeper. And what if she wanted to call the police in, to have me give a false statement to them.

 
; Wasn’t that a punishable offense?

  I’d seen how bad Edna had looked in county gray. I knew I wouldn’t look any better.

  I stood up abruptly. “I can’t do this.” This time I didn’t have to act frightened. I was scared spitless I’d end up in the slammer.

  “Becca, I can’t help you if you don’t sit back down.”

  I barreled past her and ran to my bottom desk drawer, jerked it open and grabbed my purse.

  “Come back here, Becca.

  We aren’t through,” she called after me.

  She might not be through, but I was more than done. And out of there. At least for the evening. She could think what she wanted. I was staying out of jail and going home to rethink this grand plan of mine.

  Chapter 34

  Today I took no chances with a broken heel. I wore flats. And I was late. Hurrying down the walkway, I pulled on the entrance door to the building with more force than I intended and almost fell backwards when someone grabbed the door from behind me.

  Strong arms encircled my waist. “Steady, my-ah sladkaya.”

  Max. I could always trust him to turn up at the strangest, most inopportune times.

  “If you didn’t sneak up on people…”

  He gripped me a bit closer and my pulse ratcheted up a notch. “I’ve got it now. I’m not going to fall. You can let go.”

  He whispered in my ear, “Do you really want me to?”

  My breath hitched. No. I didn’t want him to let go, but we were in a very public place, and I felt like all eyes were on me. “Please,” I begged.

  We entered the building, his laughter following me inside. “You have confused me.”

  He was confused? The sexy Russian constantly kept me off-balance.

  We rounded the corner of the lobby and ran into a more irate than usual Ryder.

  “Becca, there you are. And I should have known you’d be with Chernov.”

  The two men squared off and for a moment no one spoke.

  “I was walking Becca to her office,” Max said before I could think of a clever reply.

  “Good, we can all walk together,” Ryder said.

  But wasn’t Ryder headed out the building when we were headed in?