by J. R. WRIGHT
“Did anyone ever get charged with the killing of the first wife?” Martina asked.
“No. Her murder was never solved.”
“What’s his name?”
“Raymond Koffee. Koffee with a K. Raym, he likes people to call him.”
“Was he ever questioned about the murder?”
“I don’t know. This all happened before I came to St. Louis,” Gloria said and pulled her legs up on the couch. “He did say, once, that he was out of the country at the time. Bahamas, I think he said.”
“You said he’s rich. How did he make his money?”
“It’s old money. His family is wealthy. I think they made their money in real estate. There was a large ranch somewhere north of town, once owned by a distant grandfather. But, of course, that’s nearly all part of the city now.”
“Oh, my!” Marti got up from her chair and returned her unopened beer to the fridge. She then put a pot of water on the range for tea. “Do you have any pictures of him?”
“None! After the divorce I burned every single one I had… even the wedding pictures.” Gloria ran quivering fingers lightly over her battered face. “I didn’t want anything left of him in my life.”
Marti hesitated… then decided to ask anyway. “Did you get a fair settlement in the divorce?”
“Are you kidding? As it turned out, he didn’t own anything. The house we lived in and even the cars we drove were all in his father’s name.”
“Didn’t you think that was a little strange?” Marti said through the opening from the kitchen.
“I was blown away by it. And so was the court. But I didn’t care. I just wanted out.” Tears then began flowing down Gloria’s cheeks. She used her bulky white robe to dab them away. “I should have known, though, the way he insisted I pay the household expenses from my income.”
“Did he make you keep your job… or was that your idea?”
“Oh, hell, yes! That was understood before we tied the knot. He didn’t want another wife lounging around the house all day, as his first had done.”
Martina came to Gloria with a steaming hot cup of tea, then took a cup to the easy chair and sat it on the adjacent table. “Would you care for a little brandy in yours, Gloria?” She knew Gloria preferred hers that way and returned to the kitchen for the bottle.
“Yes, thank you,” Gloria responded, wondering what she would be doing now without Martina here to comfort her. “You’re an angel!”
“You’d do the same for me,” Marti said, but her mind was on Raym Koffee. Where could she find a picture of him? She thought that important to know. Should he come around again, she then would know to be on her guard. In fact, if he were here now, she knew exactly what she would to do to him. The sonofabitch!
“Were you here in the apartment when he beat you?” Marti asked.
“In his car.” Gloria’s eyes watered again as the horror of it all flashed through her mind again. “He dumped me out at the curb when finished with me. Like some bag of garbage.”
“Oh, Gloria!” Marti went to her. “The cheap bastard! He carries on an affair with you in his car?”
“Not usually,” Gloria said, amused at Martina’s animated tirade. “He has a small studio apartment across town for that.” She sniffled and fumbled with the robe. “Today was different. He got angry when I told him this was the last time. He beat me as he drove. And then, at some place under a bridge, he pulled me out of the car and into some bushes. That’s where he ripped off my clothes and raped me. Then afterward, he beat and kicked me some more.”
“Oh my God! This has to be reported!” Martina began pacing the floor again.
“You see!” Gloria shouted out. “That’s why I didn’t want you to know, Martina. Apparently you weren’t listening. This guy could kill me, or have me killed. If you knew him like I do, you would know it’s true. There’s nothing I can do.”
“At least let me get you to a hospital. You should be checked out for internal injuries.”
“Don’t forget, I’m a nurse too. I’d know if I needed medical attention.”
And so it went for another hour. In that time Gloria got sufficiently drunk on the brandy for sleep. Marti helped her to bed, then sat with her until she was resting peacefully. Sleep, however, didn’t come as readily for Martina. She laid awake for hours mauling over all the information Gloria had given her. She desperately wanted to do something to help her friend, but outside of going to the cops, she was at a loss as to exactly what. But she wasn’t about to give up on account of that, regardless of the extremes to which she needed to go. Perhaps she ought to check into buying a gun. God knows she had plenty of experience in using them. Her father had seen to that with the numerous times he had taken her hunting or just plinking tin cans at her grandfather’s farm, using his arsenal of weapons of near every kind.
However, a gun was only part of the equation. One could prove to be useful in protecting her friend, but what she needed was a plan to rid this animal from Gloria’s life forever… short of killing him, if at all possible. The thought of taking a human life was contrary to everything Marti believed in. After all, she had decided to become a nurse from the desire to prolong life, not the other way around. But then, ridding Gloria of this potentially deadly threat could prove lifesaving as well… it could save Gloria’s life.
CHAPTER NINE
At eight in the morning, after checking in on Gloria and seeing she was resting peacefully, Marti worked out for an hour before showering and starting breakfast. A half hour later, the smell of bacon frying brought Gloria to the kitchen, where she poured herself a cup of coffee.
“I’d like to say you look greatly improved this morning, but that would be an overstatement.” Marti came up to check the swelling around Gloria’s eyes and then the road maps on the eyes themselves.
“Am I going to live?” Gloria took her coffee to the table and fought the pain to sit.
“Have you noticed any blood loss?”
“A little discoloration in the urine…but nothing to be overly concerned about.”
“Any surface clotting on the contusions?”
“A little,” Gloria said. “I’ll be okay, Martina. I’ve been through this a time or two. I know what to expect.”
“You mean he’s beaten you like this before?” Marti was back to being angry all over again.
“More times than I care to count. I should have known better than to try to be rid of him. I’m not sure what I was thinking, but it was a mistake.”
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of going back with him again?”
“Martina, I don’t want to get into this again.” Gloria groaned from the pain. “Just let it drop, okay. If you want to do something, get me some aspirin. I’m out.”
“Oh, Gloria, you shouldn’t be taking aspirin. One thing you don’t need is thinner blood right now, when we don’t know for sure how extensive the internal injuries are.”
“You’re a mean, mean nurse, Martina.”
“Can you eat eggs and bacon or should I make you some oatmeal?”
“I didn’t get out of bed for oatmeal.”
“Thata girl!” Marti cheered. “I’ll tell you what. Eat a good breakfast… then I’ll give you some aspirin, okay?”
“Now you’re talking. Bring it on.”
After Marti had washed up the breakfast dishes, she asked Gloria to lock the door behind her. She was stepping out to do some shopping. This was understandable to Gloria, seeing as how Martina had a dinner engagement, which may ultimately develop into the biggest night of her female life. In that case, one always wanted to have new undergarments.
But that wasn’t the reason Marti was going out at all. She was driving to the main library with hopes of discovering more about the Koffee clan. Some history may be helpful, but most importantly, she was looking for a recent photo of Raymond, or Raym as he liked to be called. If they were the prominent citizens Gloria said they were, there must be something available. She was just at the li
brary the previous Saturday and checked out three books on plastic surgery. She had wanted to read up on the subject so she wouldn’t appear to be a complete idiot when assisting in the OR on one of those procedures for the first time.
Upon arriving, Marti went right to the help desk, as she had done on her previous visit. When she got the attention of an elderly lady seated there, she made her needs clear.
“I’m looking for anything I can find on the family, Koffee. I understand they played a prominent role in the history of St. Louis.”
“Oh, indeed they have.” The nearly white haired woman came to her feet spryly. “St. Louis, as well as the State of Missouri. What is it you want to know?”
“Well, I’m not sure. I understand there was a large ranch that was eventually consumed by the city…”
“You’re standing on part of it, right now. The land this library sits on was donated by the Koffee family back in 1875. It was part of the original eighteen thousand acre spread. The original ranch was established by August Koffee in the 1840s. He died of cholera during an epidemic in the late 1860s. His son Aaron then took charge and it was because of him St. Louis was allowed to grow to the north, in respect to the enormous amount of land he owned.
“We have several books that contain passages of …” The elderly woman started to go through her files of index cards.
“Actually, I was thinking more recent. Who of the family remains in the city?”
“There are hundreds of Koffees residing in St. Louis and the surrounding area. But I’m afraid only two of direct linage, Adolf and his son James.”
Disappointed, Marti said, “The one… Isn’t there one named Raymond?”
“Raym?” The old woman’s eyes became wide. “Why on earth would anyone want to know anything about Raym?”
“Sounds like you know a lot about him?”
“I ought to… he was married to my granddaughter.”
With that, Marti put a hand over her mouth and glared at the old woman. It must have been her granddaughter that was murdered, possibly by Raym. “Actually, I was just trying to locate a picture of him.”
“I would like to see one of those, too — of him on death row.”
“Was it your granddaughter that was killed…?”
“Yes, and he did it. Everybody around here knows that.” The old woman looked around to see who was listening, if anybody.
“But I thought he was out of the country at the time?”
“Phooey!” she near spit the word out. “I don’t believe that for a second. Just because the family plane went to the Bahamas for a holiday doesn’t necessarily mean he was on it. And of course they would lie for him.” The lean old woman, eighty if she was a day, drew back and folded her arms under her breasts as if what she’d said was absolute fact.
Marti focused in on her name tag. “Gwyn Raizel,” it said. Then, below that in smaller letters: ‘VOLENTEER.’
“What’s your interest in Raym, anyway?” Gwyn eyed Marti suspiciously.
Marti instantly puffed up, “Well, I know someone that knows him… Curiosity I guess. I just wanted to see what he looked like. You have nothing here with a picture?”
“Why bother with a picture when you can see him in the flesh, most any day of the week, right next door at the Koffee Building. He’s got an office there on the second floor.”
“Would he be at the office on a Saturday?”
“Well, I wouldn’t know about that,” Gwyn said, then began looking around the huge room, as if wanting to be rid of her now.
“Okay. Well then, thank you, Mrs. Raizel. You’ve been very helpful.” Marti said, took the hint and quickly turned away.
“I didn’t catch your name?” the old woman called after her.
“Martina!” she said over her shoulder and kept moving.
“I know where he lives!” the old woman called, apparently having a change of heart.
Hearing that, Marti turned back to her, hesitated briefly, then, seeing the urgency on Gwyn’s face, walked the few steps back to her.
“It’s my coffee break,” she said, gathering her satchel-like purse and stepping from the cubicle. “Follow me!”
Before long, they were at a coffee shop across the street from the library and soon seated at a table by the front windows. “Here is where I sit near every day during lunch break. And most generally I see Raym, at some point, come from that building over there and walk to his car in that parking lot next door.”
Marti studied the ancient two story building across the street. Engraved in stone at the very top was: “KOFFEE 1875.” Apparently, that building and the library were built the same year, she mused. “How am I going to know it’s him, when I don’t know what he looks like?”
“I’m getting to that.” Gwyn lifted her huge purse to her lap and began digging through it. To get to the bottom, she pulled out a camera with a small telephoto lens attached and laid it on the table.
A waitress came with a pot of coffee and two cups. “Still snapping pictures of passersby, Gwyn?”
“No. I keep forgetting to leave it at home. I don’t think there’s even film in it.” Gwyn picked up the camera for a quick look, then put it down again as if her suspicion was confirmed.
The waitress poured the coffee. “Can I get either of you a pastry or danish?”
Marti’s eyes went to Gwyn, who didn’t seem to hear as she sorted through her purse.
Then, “Nothing more for me, Rose,” came from her, as if she was too busy to be bothered.
“Can I get one of the apple turnovers to go?” Marti said, having seen how delicious they looked on the way in, and thought immediately of Gloria. Perhaps a gift of one would serve to cheer her some, in her state of depression.
“Of course,” Rose said, and left the table.
“Here they are!” Gwyn brought out a dog eared manila envelope and from it produced a pile of photos and other items. Her boney fingers then sorted through the mess. “Here’s one of the more recent ones.”
Marti took the photo and studied the two people in it. One was of a sandy haired man in his forties. His arm was around a much younger blond woman. Above all, however, the photo was distant and a bit out of focus. The only thing certain was it had been taken with the Koffee building in the background.
“Who’s the woman?” Marti asked.
“That’s Raym’s new wife. Her name is Sheela, spelled with double E’s. I read all about the marriage in the Post Dispatch.”
“Was there a picture?” Marti was quick to ask.
“I clipped it out.” Gwyn’s fingers went right to it and pulled it from the pile.
This was more like it, Marti thought. Finally, here was a respectable picture of the bastard himself, along with his rather mousey looking blonde wife. From this she could see Raym wore a mustache, something not visible in the other photograph. And he had piercing eyes, also not noticeable in the other photo. Haunting, she told herself, burning the image of him into her brain.
“This is the article about my granddaughter’s murder. I don’t know why I still carry this stuff around with me. Obsessed, I guess.” Gwyn handed the numerous clippings over. “Look, Martina, if you want to take all this stuff, go ahead. You can return it to me at the library when you’re finished with it, if you want.”
Marti looked up to the sad old face before her. “Why are you doing this, Gwyn? I mean, you don’t even know me.”
“Well, because you were interested. You seem like a nice young girl. And, to be frank, you kind of remind me of my granddaughter, when she was your age,” she said, tears flooding her tired old eyes.
“Oh, Gwyn, I do feel your pain.” Marti took her hand across the table, feeling her eyes misting up as well. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but something good may come of this.”
“In what way?” Gwyn said, feebly brushing tears away.
“Well, something or someone mysteriously brought us together. Only good can come from that, right?” Marti said
cheerfully.
“I’m not even going to ask what you mean by that remark.” Gwyn began tossing things back into her purse. “But if you’re out to prove Raym killed my Susannah, then power to you.”
“Let’s just say, you and I are on the same side of this. Okay, Gwyn?”
“Okay.” She came up from the table and planted a kiss on Marti’s forehead. “I’ll be praying for you, dear.”
“Me too,” Marti said and watched her walk away. She then quickly gathered all the stuff Gwyn had left her back into the envelope and put that in her purse. After paying out, she hurried to her car. Not only was she anxious to look through everything, she was concerned about Gloria being alone at the apartment. Two more stops and five flights of stairs would get her there inside an hour, she estimated.
CHAPTER TEN
Marti knocked at the door for a period of several minutes before she heard the chain come off and the two locks turn, allowing her entry.
“I was in the shower,” Gloria said, apologetically. She was in her robe, a towel wrapped about her head.
“I brought burgers and fries for our lunch,” Martina said, marching through to the table. “And for your sweet tooth, I have a delicious looking apple turnover.”
“Thanks, Martina. You didn’t have to do that. I can cook, you know.”
“Well then, you must be feeling better. That’s good news.” Marti got plates, took the bag and drew wax paper wrapped burgers, cardboard trays of fries, and two bottles of Coca Cola from it.
“Didn’t you forget something?” Gloria asked as she sat up to the table.
“What?” Marti looked about the table for what could be missing.
“I thought you went out to buy some new undies, for the maiden voyage tonight.”
“Oh, Gloria!”
“Say, I have a pair of cherry red bloomers and matching bra I could loan you.” Gloria took a bite of her hamburger, then spoke from the side of her mouth. “They always look good lying on the bedroom floor.”
“Gloria, have you been drinking?” Marti looked into her eyes for dilated pupils.
“No. I haven’t. I found some Plaximin capsules I didn’t know I had.” She smiled artificially.