by J. R. WRIGHT
“I wasn’t present when she was questioned.” Martina looked at Dunbar blankly.
“Well, let me put it this way. Were you ever in a position to see something that perhaps Gloria didn’t?”
“She couldn’t have been in a position to see the attacker’s fat ass when I put a boot in his groin. Other than that, I can’t imagine what it could have been.” Of course there was plenty Gloria didn’t see, but Martina was in no mood to get into all that now.
“Were those the boots you used?” the detective asked with a smile, while eyeing the pointed buckskin boots showing beneath the blue OR gown. “That must have hurt!”
“I’m sure it did,” Martina confirmed. “Will that be all? I really should be getting back in there. Parker will be coming out from under the anesthetic before long. At first, he’ll be confused. Someone needs to be there.”
“Can’t another nurse handle it?” Dunbar protested.
“It’s always best a familiar face is there, Lieutenant.”
“Okay, well, I have the contact information for both of you,” he said, reluctantly. “You can count on me being in touch.” He folded his note pad and put it and the pencil in his pocket. “Later,” he then said and walked away.
“Shall I wait here?” Gloria said, nervously toying with her fingers.
“Oh, honey, I know this has been difficult for you,” Martina said, coming in for another hug. “No. I want you to come with me.” She took her hand. “Parker will be glad to see you when he comes around.”
“I don’t know why.” Gloria dropped her eyes to the floor. “It was because of me he was near killed. That man was sent by Raym.”
“It’s not your fault, and you don’t even know that for sure,” Marti said. But even she thought so… indirectly. There was no doubt in her mind Raym Koffee was behind the attack.
When Martina, with Gloria in tow, left the hospital at six in the morning, Parker was resting peacefully. They drove Parker’s truck, Martina under the wheel, to a do it yourself car wash where they did a thorough job of washing his lost blood from the box. From there they went to the diner near their apartment building to grab some breakfast.
Being it was early Sunday morning, the place was pretty much empty. Martina glanced around at those few present, then selected a booth in a far back corner. She didn’t want anyone seated behind her. Also, she wanted to see everyone who approached, or even entered the diner, from where she sat. She then slipped a hand into her purse to be sure the small pistol was readily accessible.
“One of the officers asked for Parker’s next of kin,” Gloria mentioned as they sat and slid under the table.
“Oh my God! What did you say?” Marti was shocked she hadn’t thought to ask if he wanted someone notified.
“I said they would have to ask you. I hardly knew him.” Gloria looked around as if uncomfortable about something. “I didn’t tell you or the cops this, but I think I saw Raym sitting in a car across the street when I was hiding behind Parker’s truck, during the fracas.”
“Oh, honey, are you sure?” Marti reached across the table and gathered Gloria’s hands in hers.
“Well, it was dark. But if you lived with a person as long as I did Raym, you have a sixth sense when it’s them you see, even when it’s only a partial silhouette.”
“Did you recognize the car?”
“No. Never saw it before. But I think it was a Ford, what little I know about automobiles. Dark blue or black. It had one of those wheel things on the back end.”
“Then it must have been a Lincoln Continental,” Marti said with confidence. After all, her father owned an auto repair business where she worked off hours and summers during high school. She had to know makes and models to order the necessary parts needed. “That’s something you should have told the police.”
“How could I do that without getting into the other thing?” Gloria said. “Surely they would ask what had provoked my ex to do such a thing. Then I’d have to tell them about the beating and what brought that about.”
“So! What have you got to lose? We know now he wants you dead. He can’t hold that as a threat over you anymore; to keep you from going to the police.”
“Oh God, Martina, what am I going to do?” Gloria started to cry and buried her face in her hands.
“Can I take your order?” a young waitress suddenly appeared at the table. Then, seeing Gloria, she said, “Should I give you a minute?”
Martina simply threw up a hand to the waitress as a signal to wait. “We’ll get through it together. And we’ll start by leveling with that detective, Dunbar. Okay? We have no reason to hide anything now. We’ll get that sonofabitch if it’s the last thing we do!”
With that, Gloria nodded and slid the hands away from her wet cheeks. She then picked up the menu Martina slid to her and tried to focus. Even though she had little in the way of an appetite, she rested a finger on bacon and eggs and dropped the menu for Martina to see.
Turing back to the waitress, Marti said. “We’ll have two of the number four, with black coffee and orange juice.”
Forty minutes later, Martina eased Parker’s truck into a space next to her car, in the lot at the rear of the apartment building, and locked it securely. She didn’t plan on driving it again until Parker was ready for discharge. A few minutes later, she and Gloria reluctantly entered through the front door hoping the blood mess, Parker McLean’s blood, had been cleaned up in their absence. To their surprise, however, right where most of the mess had been, on a freshly scrubbed gray marble floor, stood Lieutenant Dunbar.
“Ladies,” he touched the brim of his brown fedora. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you both to come with me.”
While Gloria froze and glared at Martina… Marti responded. “Is it that urgent, Lieutenant? Presently, we’re going on twenty-four hours without a wink of sleep.”
“I think you’ll be amused,” he said mysteriously, stepped around the two of them, and pushed open the door. This left them little choice but to comply with his wishes.
Gloria wondered if by chance they were under arrest. How could that be, though? They hadn’t done anything wrong. But if by some freak chance they were going to jail, she wondered now if she should ask to be allowed to go to her apartment for a quick shower…or at least a change of clothes and fresh deodorant. No telling how long they would need to be there… and she already felt a bit stale. The thought, however, escaped her when she saw a patrol car now sitting at the curb, a uniformed officer stationed at the open rear door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The four of them rode in silence for twenty minutes before turning down an alley and coming to a stop adjacent to the rear door of a red brick clad building. Dunbar hastily stepped from the shotgun seat and opened the rear door.
“Step out, ladies,” he said as pleasantly as he could through the permanently snarled face he must have been born with. He then pulled a pack of Camels from his pocket, pounded one out and lit it with a Zippo.
“Where are we?” Marti asked, as she stepped a boot to the ground and glanced around.
“This is the city morgue, ma’am,” Dunbar said around the cigarette, as he gave her a hand the remainder of the way out.
“Oh!” Gloria said, upon hearing where they were. Why had they been brought here, of all places?
The uniformed officer went to the unmarked door and pressed the red button on a small speaker box. Within seconds a voice said, “Department and badge number?”
“Police. Ten eighty-six.”
Following that, a buzzer sounded and the young officer pulled the door open. This prompted Dunbar to step out the cigarette and herd the two women through the door. Just the three of them proceeded down a long, dimly lighted hallway. Footsteps on the tile floor and an eerie buzzing noise echoed throughout as they traveled, it seemed forever, to a set of double doors marked with a large, red number four.
Dunbar pushed through them as if he owned the place. Spotting an attendant scrubbing a
drain table, he said, “Is our John Doe decent?”
“No. Not yet. I just got him cleaned up.”
“God dammit, Harley! How long does it take to throw over a sheet! I told you I was bringing witnesses,” Dunbar said, with half a smile on his face. “Turn around, ladies.”
“May I remind you, we are both nurses, Lieutenant,” Marti said. “I don’t believe there’s much in the way of naked bodies we haven’t seen a good number of times. Who are we about to view, by the way?”
“I’m hoping you’ll tell me that, Miss Spalding. Open it up, Harley.”
Harley marched to a cooler door, one of many along the wall, and swung it open wide. Then with both feet planted firmly, he tugged at the heavy tray until it began moving, then eased up as it rolled more freely out into the room.
“Okay, ladies, you can move up.”
Gloria took one glance from afar, then abruptly turned away. She was a nurse alright, but was never comfortable around dead people. That’s why she had snapped up the receptionist job at Spencer House when it was offered to her a few years ago. Marti, however, boldly walked up to the bloated body and studied it close up. She wanted to be sure this was the man who had knifed Parker McLean, as it, at first glance, appeared to be. Other than a wash up, it was certain to her nothing had been done to the body. Not only were the eyes open, the mouth gaped as well. The huge man was in his late forties, partially bald, light brown hair, about six feet. Everything added up, but there was still one thing she wanted to confirm. She turned to Detective Dunbar and saw him glued to her face, looking for any signs of recognition, no doubt.
“Is this the man that put a shiv in your friend, Miss Spalding?”
“What killed him?” Marti asked.
“Three small caliber bullets to the back of the head. They’re not visible from here. Most likely a twenty-two was used. They’re in him yet. I wanted you to see the body before we did the autopsy,” Dunbar said, stepping forward for a better look himself. “Some of that bloating is from the river.”
“He was in the river?” That sounded familiar to her. Raym Koffee’s first wife’s body was fished from the river, she knew. Susannah. She had also been killed by a gunshot to the head, according to the newspaper articles.
“Yep. He was spotted by a fisherman at daybreak. Apparently, he was dumped off a bridge into shallow water.”
“How many people would it take to hoist a man of his size over a bridge railing, Mister Dunbar?” Marti asked as she nodded toward the corpse.
“Two, maybe three.” Dunbar looked at her strangely. “Are you suggesting it didn’t happen that way? Miss Spalding, do you know something you’re not telling me?”
“My thoughts were, he was either marched to the railing and shot there… or maybe he was shot in a small boat and pushed overboard.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I think one man did this. And he’s not a big man, either.”
“Okay, Miss Spalding.” Dunbar’s voice became gruff. “Either you’re some kind of kook… or you think you know something. Which is it?”
“At this point, neither… for sure.”
“Will you at least tell me this is the man that knifed your friend?”
“I’m not completely sure of that, either. I can’t see from here — the legs are tight together. But if Harley, there, can confirm bruising in the groin area, or perhaps a swelling of the testicles, then most likely this is him.”
“Like blue coconuts,” Harley said from the where he worked at cleaning the sink. “I was wondering what may have caused that.”
“Miss Spalding here put one of her cow pie kickers into our perpetrator’s jewel chest, Mister Harley. That’s what happened.” Dunbar chuckled. “Now, what we need to find out is who killed him. And I have a notion Miss Spalding is going to help us out with that, as well. Am I right?” He glared at Martina.
“You may start by looking for a late model Lincoln Continental, dark blue or black.” Marti tossed that out, hoping not to have to get Gloria involved. “There was a lone man in it. It was parked across the street from our apartment building at the time of the attack. Perhaps he took this man away while we were busy inside attending to Parker McLean.”
“Is that all you have?” Dunbar glared, again.
“Pretty much,” Marti said. “I may come up with more once I’ve had some rest. Who knows? But that’s it for now. Do you know who this man is, Lieutenant?”
“Not yet,” Dunbar said. “No ID on him. But that’s typical.”
“Typical of what?” Marti asked.
“Of a hit.”
“Or perhaps a hit man?” Marti suggested.
“That too.” Dunbar headed for the door. “Put him on the table, Harley. As soon as you locate those slugs, I want them.”
Back at the apartment building, Dunbar stepped out to the curb and again assisted the women in exiting the patrol car. “Ms. Gillen. Miss Spalding. He tipped his hat to each and, in the process, gave each his card. “Anything at all comes to mind, call me, okay?”
The two nodded exhaustedly and began walking away.
“And, Miss Spalding? When we speak again, I want your take on why you think your friend Gloria Gillen’s life is in danger. I have it all here in the notes… the ones taken by the officer at the hospital.” He waved the notebook.
With that, Marti turned back to him. Reaching Dunbar again, she said, “Because the two of us entered the building, and as we walked for the stairs, it was Gloria he lunged for, even though she was farthest from him. To my right. That was proof enough for me.”
“Good answer, Martina. But that theory really doesn’t hold water. What if he had in mind to kill you both? Under normal circumstances you would have thought that, would you not? I mean, the man came at you both. Yet you choose to believe it was only Gloria he was after. The only reason you would think that is if you know more than you’re telling me.” He glared, hoping for a sign he was right… but got nothing. “For the life of me, I don’t know why I’m not hauling you down to the station right now for further questioning.”
“You won’t do that, Lieutenant, because you’re smart. You’ve already figured me out, and know you’ll get more out of me with patience.” Martina’s eyes twinkled as she studied his face for a reaction to that. Seeing the faint puppy dog look hoped for, she now felt it was time for another bone. “However, if this is of any consequence, you’re right… There is more.”
“What?” he asked skeptically.
“Try on the name Raymond Koffee for size. See what revelations that brings you, Lieutenant.” Martina said as she backed away.
“Raym?” He doubled back. “You have to be kidding me? What does he have to do with any of this?”
“You asked. I told.”
Martina caught up with Gloria at the top of the steps and the two entered the building. This left Dunbar pondering what she’d said as he watched her go. ‘Ah, to be young again,’ he thought, and climbed into the patrol car.
“What do you know about Raym Koffee, Officer Ripley? Other than that pile of money he’s sitting on, is there anything else about him that may produce a stink?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Finding she had acquired a second wind, Marti took a quick shower, dressed cheerfully for a summer Sunday, and left the apartment. She was going back to the hospital to be with Parker for a time. It was such a beautiful day, she decided to walk the eight blocks there and take her time doing it. It would be hot later, she knew, but for now while the morning breeze was cool, she would take full advantage.
After walking a few blocks, Marti came to a small park that had been freshly groomed. Had she not worn nylons and spike heels, she would have considered a stroll of the inviting, grassy space. Perhaps even sit for a while on one of the iron benches, under an ancient oak at the center. Do some soul searching. Even dream for a while about what the future may have in store for her. Would Parker McLean be in that picture? Of course he would. She liked him
. At the moment love wasn’t a part of the equation, but who knew where their relationship may lead? If it did eventually lead to love, she just hoped the feelings were mutual. And sex? She’d already made her mind up to partake in that, just as soon as he was up to the task. And probably would have already, last night, had the accident not happened. Accident, hell! Attack! Damn that Raym Koffee! How many more lives would he destroy before justice reined him in?
A clock on the wall in the hospital displayed nine fifteen. Marti had a hard time believing all that’d happened since she’d left here at six, three and a quarter hours previously. Stopping at the nurse’s station nearest the OR, she proceeded on to the room assigned to Parker McLean. Tiptoeing through the door so as not to wake him if he should be resting, she found him doing just that. The rails were up on the bed, and it was lying flat, not even a pillow under his head. There were straps at the chest and the knees to prevent him from accidentally rising and stressing the intestines repaired early that morning.
Bedside, she checked all the monitors and found to her delight that all was normal. Holding her hair, she placed a cheek near his forehead to check for any radiation. It was an old fashion method of checking a patient’s temperature, but only worked if it was extreme. And if it were, it was a sure sign an infection was setting in. Parker was cool… another good sign all was progressing well.
“Is that you, Doc?”
“I’m sorry,” she said in a whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I was just dreaming about you.” He opened his eyes to a squint.
“Do I dare ask the nature of the dream?” she said, smiling down on him.
“It was kinda weird. I probably shouldn’t tell you.”
“Weird! Wow, that doesn’t sound good.”
“Not kinky,” he explained.
“Well, that’s a relief.” She laughed in a low tone. “Maybe you had better keep that one to yourself. I wouldn’t want anything you say at this point to tarnish the wonderful image I have of you.”