by J. R. WRIGHT
“I won’t ask you what that is…” Parker’s eyes opened a little wider. “But I would like the answer to another question.”
“Sure. I will, if I can,” she said softly, fearing what it may be.
“If all hell hadn’t broken loose last night, would we have made love?”
“I think, primarily, that would’ve been up to you.” She felt a blush coming on and headed it off with a giggle of sorts. “Let’s just say, I was game.”
“Alright!” he near shouted and raised into the straps with his excitement.
“You need to calm down, Parker,” Martina said in a loud whisper, then eased in for a gentle, but too brief, kiss.
“Well, that’s what the dream was about.” He drew up a smile. “I’m sorry, Doc.”
“Why should you be sorry?”
“Because, it was just I… that I got to enjoy it. It was so real…. as if it really happened. You want to hear about it, Doc?”
“That’s okay.” She laughed. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon wait for the real thing, thank you.”
“What’s your favorite position, Doc?”
“Parker…!” She furrowed her brow. “I think whatever they’re giving you for pain has stimulated your libido… as well as loosened your tongue. This is not like you.”
“No… really! All girls have one,” he persisted.
With that, Martina tossed up her hands and pursed her lips. She didn’t have a favorite position, simply because she had no experience in any of them. “Would the normal way be out of the question?” she finally said.
“Oh…! Well, that wasn’t how the dream played out.” Parker seemed disappointed.
“Maybe… it wasn’t me in the dream, after all.” Now Martina took on a disappointed look.
“Oh, it was you alright!” he said with a chuckle.
“Parker, stop it!”
“Why? Am I making you horny?”
“Extremely,” she said softly and leaned in for another kiss. “Look, Parker, I think I ought to go. I have yet to go to bed.”
“My goodness!” He sized her up. “You must be spent?”
“I am. But I’ll be back later.”
“I’d like that.”
Marti kissed him again, then picked up her purse and headed for the door. Once there she remembered something and turned back. “Say, is there anyone you want me to update on your condition?”
“The hospital inquired about next of kin. I just have the sister left, but I told them not to call her. She lives in Maine. I figured… what’s the sense in worrying her. Especially over something she can’t do anything about, anyway.”
“How considerate is that?” Marti said and swiped another kiss. Frankly, she’d be pissed if a member of her family didn’t call in a similar situation. “Later.”
“Martina?”
“Yes?” She turned back again.
“Have they had any luck catching the bastard that did this to me?”
“Oh, Parker, I meant to tell you right away. But then I thought it best you get better first.” Marti touched her brow. “He’s dead, Parker. They fished him out of the river at daybreak. Someone had shot him… gangland style… three small calibers to the back of the head.
“Good God!” he said looking away. “Well, then… I guess I don’t need to be concerned about him any longer.”
“No, I guess not… Although, you were never in any real danger, here,” Marti said. But she could understand how he would be jittery, after the trauma he suffered.
“What’s that mean for Gloria?”
“Now, Parker, don’t you go worrying yourself about Gloria.” Martina came back around the bed and took one of his huge hands in hers. “I’ve got that part under control. Understand?” She pecked his lips again.
“If you say so, Doc. Say, can you, by chance, tell me how long I’ll be here?”
“That’ll be up to your doctor.”
“Doctor? I didn’t know I had one.”
“Surely there’s a hospital doctor assigned to you. You just haven’t seen him yet,” Marti said. “But to answer your question, I’d say a week, barring any complications.”
“Do you expect any?”
“I’m not your doctor,” she said, smiling pleasantly. “But if you’re concerned about passing the time, I’ll be working the four to midnight shift at Spencer House starting tomorrow. I can spend a good portion of my days with you.”
“Thank you, Martina,” he said, returning the smile. “Now you’d best go get some rest.”
“Thank you, I will.” She kissed him again. Realizing now how truly kissable his full lips were… she lingered a bit, as would a hummingbird greedily extracting nectar, before forcing herself to pull away.
“Now look what you went and did, Doc,” Parker said, looking down as best he could.
That’s when Marti noticed the tent in the sheet… Embarrassed now, she rushed from the room.
“Doc?”
Martina presented half a face around the door. “Save it!” she said, with a giggle. And then she was gone. Parker heard her heels rapidly clacking down the hall.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
On her return walk home, Martina noticed the little park was now alive with people. Upon closer examination, she noticed several produce vendors had set up tables and were busy hawking the fruits of their trade. Actually, much of it was fruit, and Martina eased in among the swarm to study the selection. A display of red grapes caught her eye near immediately. She selected the paper bag of them, most appealing, and held them up to the smiling old man behind the table. “That’ll be fifty cents, ma’am.” Oh…so now she was a ma’am. Had she aged that much over the past twenty-eight hours or so? Or was it just the haggard look she’d seen in the mirror after her shower that’d made her appear a mother of God knows how many screaming brats. She smiled to herself, even though the thought was horrifying.
Setting the grapes down, Marti dug in her purse for the proper change. Before long she was back on her way, one of the grapes rolling around inside her mouth. She would toy with it sensuously for a while before savoring its juice and slippery pulp. Parker had done a masterful job of arousing her. Now it was the lowly grape that was called on to pacify the desire.
At the apartment door, Marti quietly let herself in, removed the spike heels, and tiptoed down the short hallway to Gloria’s bedroom. Seeing Gloria was resting peacefully, she reversed course, went to her own room, and gently closed and locked the door. Stripping naked, she went into the bathroom, reached past the curtain, and turned on the shower… hot. Moments later she parted the curtain, stepped into the cubicle, tucked the curtain tightly on both sides and lowered herself gently to the floor. There, crouched in a corner, she began to cry, the agonizing sounds muffled by her hands. The opportunity for relief had been a long time coming. But since it was here, she meant to get it all out, now.
It was hours later when from her bed, where she’d been sleeping soundly, Marti heard a forceful knock on her door. “Martina!” It was Gloria’s voice. “Are you okay?”
Dragging herself from the bed, she took her robe from the bedpost and pulled it on before unlatching the door and easing it open a few inches.
“I didn’t hear you return,” Gloria said, eyeing her concernedly.
Squinting back at her, Marti asked, “What time is it?”
“After five. Go back to bed, if you want. I was just worried you weren’t okay.”
“I’m fine.” Marti yawned, covering her mouth as she did, and pulled the door fully open on her way back to the bed.
“I never thought… How embarrassing would this have been, if you’d had a man in here?” Gloria chuckled and stepped into the room.
“I did.” Marti pulled the sheet over her face. “I booted his bony ass out a few hours ago.”
“It must have been an orgy?” Gloria’s eyes rested on what remained of a cluster of grapes on the nightstand.
“Oh, God, I don’t want to get
up,” Marty said, and stretched her body. It was an action that exposed her face again.
“Then don’t.”
“I promised Parker I’d come back later. Well, it’s later. And I still have to put myself together.”
“Yeah, what… throw on a little lipstick?” Gloria huffed. “You ought to have my wrinkles to contend with.”
“What about this hair?” Marti grabbed a handful and pulled it around for a closer look. “I went to bed with it wet, now look at it? It’s a kinky mess.”
“That’s why I keep mine short,” Gloria said. “Shower, blow, and go.”
“Now, that would be a life changing experience,” Marti said. “You know how many years it took me to grow this?” She pulled more hair from under her shoulder and studied it. But what could be more life changing than what she’d experienced last night? Maybe a change would do her good. She looked at Gloria again… primarily her haircut. “Who does yours?”
“This may come as a surprise to you, but I do it myself. I use a scalpel to taper the ends. Mostly by feel, of course,” she laughed.
“Would you do mine?” Marti asked. “Maybe a little longer. I think I’d like the Dutch Boy look. Can you do that?”
“You got it, Lady!” Gloria beamed, anxious for something to do to curb her anxiety. “You’ll need to wet it… Brush it straight. I’ll get my things.”
An hour later, Marti was bouncing down the five flights of stairs, sporting a sassy new hairdo, when she caught sight of Lieutenant Dunbar on his way up. Instantly, she stopped and glanced back to Gloria, half a flight behind her. And here they were, so joyous just a moment ago, anxious for Parker’s take on the new her.
“Oh there you are, Miss Spalding,” Dunbar said, huffing and puffing from the climb. “And, I see you have Ms. Gillen, there, with you.”
“Lieutenant,” Marti greeted him. “Don’t you ever sleep?” She proceeded toward him.
“Not much, when there’s a killer on the loose.”
“We’re on our way to visit Parker McLean in the hospital,” Marti said when she reached him. “Was there something you wanted from me?”
“No,” Dunbar said, looking past her. “It’s Ms. Gillen I want a word with.”
“Now, Lieutenant…”
“No, Martina! You won’t be getting by with sheltering her any longer. You should have thought of that before tossing Raym Koffee’s name out there.”
“Yes, Lieutenant, but can you be gentle?” Marti pleaded. “She’s had a rough time of it.”
“There you go again!” Dunbar said. “Every time you open your mouth, you create more questions. Well, frankly, I’m tired of the riddles, Martina!”
“I agree. Up until now, I have been less than forthcoming, Lieutenant,” Marti confessed. “But there’s a good reason for that. I tell you what. If you’ll allow us to go visit Parker for an hour, I promise we’ll tell you everything.”
“Oh, no! You two are not getting out of my sight again. Not until I get answers. Even if I have to haul you downtown.”
“Haul us to the hospital instead.” Marti suggested. “We can talk on the way, and again after a quick visit to Parker.”
Dunbar thought on that for a moment, then turned to Gloria, who had just arrived. “Ms. Gillen, in the officer’s notes you said you got those black eyes you’re so skillfully hiding behind those sunglasses from some falling boxes at work. That’s not true, is it?”
“No, sir,” Gloria said meekly, wondering what kind of trouble she was in for keeping that from him. “I got them from my ex-husband.”
“Raym Koffee?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Friday, after work. He picked me up, as he usually did once or sometimes twice a week.”
“Were you two carrying on an affair?”
“If you want to call it that?” she said, looking into his eyes. “Maybe it was an affair on his part. To me it was torture.”
Ignoring that last part, Dunbar went on to a question he’d previously jotted down in his notebook. “So why didn’t you report the beating?”
“I was afraid he’d kill me. He’s threatened to do that many times over the past few years.”
“Had he ever beaten you before, Ms. Gillen?”
“More times than I want to count.” Her eyes filled with tears as she struggled to again block out the memories.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Gillen, but I have to ask this.” He hesitated. “Did Raym Koffee ever rape you?”
“After every beating,” Gloria said boldly, without shame for that of which she had no control.
Hearing that, Dunbar instantly dropped his head, momentarily. “Okay. Let’s go visit Parker McLean.” He reached out a hand to Gloria and guided her down the stairs.
Martina followed close behind, angry now. “Lieutenant, what prompted you to ask if she’d been raped? There was no call for that. Could it have been dredged up by your own perverted curiosity?”
Dunbar halted instantly and turned back to her. “You know, Martina, I’m going to let that slide.” He glared and, in his frustration, pushed the hat to the back of his head. “But if you have to know, it’s good police work. It goes to the character of the perpetrator.”
“So it’s your practice to ask every victim of a beating if they’d been raped, Lieutenant?”
“It’s okay, Martina!” Gloria cut in. “I don’t mind. It’s not like I had any control over it.” But she was ignored.
Angry now, Dunbar fought the urge to tell more than he should. But then went ahead and said it anyway. “To answer your question, Miss Spalding… No! It’s just that in this case, since we have nothing on him here, I inquired at the East St. Louis Police Department. They were kind enough to show me the files on the murder investigation conducted on behalf of the first Mrs. Koffee… Susannah. The autopsy report showed she had been beaten prior to her murder. And there was vaginal tearing. This indicated a rape had also occurred within hours of her death. Now, is that reason enough for you?”
But before Marti could answer, or better yet, apologize, she caught sight of Gloria’s face. It was frightfully contorted. Her mouth was open, but nothing came from it. Then she dropped to the steps beneath her. “Gloria!” Marti scrambled to her.
“Oh…! God…!” Gloria found her voice… agonizingly, she cried out.
Dropping by her side, Martina spent a solid five minutes trying to calm her. Then, looking up at Dunbar as she cradled Gloria’s head, she spotted people above who had exited their apartments and were peering over the railings down on them.
Following what had captured Martina’s attention… Dunbar swiftly produced a badge and shouted up to them. “Go back to your rooms! There’s nothing to be alarmed about!” With that, the dozen or so people, on various floors, slowly moved away. This prompted Dunbar to offer Gloria a hand, feeling it best they leave the building. “Are you okay?”
Gloria nodded, and with Dunbar’s help, got to her feet.
“Do you want to go back to your apartment, honey?” Martina asked.
“I’ll be alright.” She dug in her purse for a Kleenex and dabbed at her face, as they moved on down the stairs and out of the building.
“I’m so sorry, Gloria,” Martina said. “I had no idea she was also raped. That part of the investigation must have been kept from the public. It caught me by as much of a surprise as it did you. I can see why you were so upset with the similarity.”
With that, the both of them now focused on Martina. That forced her to come out with the details of her visit with Gwyn Raizel, grandmother of the deceased first wife, Susannah Koffee, and tell in detail all that she’d learned, and or surmised, from it.
“What are you… really?” Dunbar was astounded. “It appears to me you have taken this beyond the scope of the average…”
“What would you do if your best friend’s life was in danger, Lieutenant? You wouldn’t sit on your thumbs, I’m sure. I’m just sorry my efforts produced so little. More… and I may have
had the good sense to be better prepared to head off what happened to Parker McLean.”
Dunbar pulled open the rear door of the patrol car. “Well, all I have to say is, the next time you decide to play kick ass, Miss Spalding, I hope I’m not the target.”
“I had no idea you did any of that… investigating,” Gloria said, gaining more respect for the friendship they shared. She was also heart-warmed at having been called Martina’s best friend, although she supposed that was a given, being that Marti was new to the city.
At the hospital, Dunbar dutifully escorted them inside, then came back out and waited patiently in the car for their return. During the time, he and Officer Ripley kept a close eye on who entered and exited at the front. What they hadn’t noticed, though, was the baby blue, 1955 Ford Thunderbird three rows back of them in the parking lot, its lone occupant also paying close attention on the entrance.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Back in the patrol car near an hour later, Marti asked if it would be alright for her and Gloria be dropped at the diner up the street from their apartment building on their return. She was so thrilled Parker had gone pleasingly bonkers over her new haircut. Now she wanted to reward Gloria for her skillful efforts by buying her dinner. Her request, however, appeared to have fallen on deaf ears when a call came in on the police radio. The gist of it was: a late model, black Lincoln Continental had just been pulled from the Mississippi River in a county area north of town. It was void of license plates and all other traceable markings.
This brought another shocked look to Gloria’s face and she turned to face Martina, who appeared equally amused.
“There’s your Lincoln, Martina.” Dunbar reached for the transmitter. “Cully, this is Dunbar. Get ahold of county. I want that car. It may be evidence in the John Doe hit.”
“Okay. I’ll take care of it pronto, boss,” came back, among some static.
“Ten four, to that.” Dunbar replaced the transmitter and turned to Ripley. “I’m getting kind of hungry. Will you pull up to that diner ahead?”