by Craig Hurren
“Please Jim, just focus and stay with the facts so we can keep on track. What time was that?”
“I’m sorry; I’m trying. It was just after eight o’clock, I’d say eight fifteen. She said she was hungry and she needed a shower so I put a salad together for her while she came in here. When I’d finished the salad and she hadn’t returned, I came to check on her. She didn’t seem that tired when she got here but she must have been because she was asleep on the bed when I came in to our room, so I left her to rest and came out to tell the girls they could see her tomorrow. It was their bedtime anyway and I had only let them stay up to see her when she got home.”
“How did she seem to you when she arrived home; what was her demeanor?”
“She was…she was just Helen. She was normal; happy to be home - jovial and affectionate as usual.” he looked at Alan, uncertainty in his eyes.
“You’re doing fine Jim, please continue.”
“Then I sat on the sofa to watch some TV and I must have dozed off. The next thing I remember is hearing a loud thump. It startled me awake and I looked across to the dining room to see what it was. That’s when I saw Helen on the floor. I thought she must have fallen or something so I called out to ask if she was OK but she didn’t answer so I ran over to her. There was so much blood!” he began to sob but continued relating the events. “I looked for where the blood was coming from and tried to put pressure on the wound but it was so big! I ran to the kitchen, grabbed a towel and tried to stop the flow with a tourniquet but it was too late - she stopped breathing. I tried CPR but she had lost so much blood.”
“Did she say anything or leave a note?”
“There was no note. She whispered a name just before she stopped breathing but I’ve never heard it before.”
“What was the name Jim?”
“She said, ‘Bryan Adler’ but I don’t recognize that name. It was only a whisper and I was in shock but my ear was very close to her face and I’m sure that’s what she said.”
“Is there any way that anyone else could have gotten into the apartment while you were asleep?”
“Not unless Helen let them in but visitors have to use the intercom system to get into the building and I would have heard it. Besides, I woke up as soon as I heard the thump and there was no one here.” Jim said; his face contorted in confusion and frustration.
“OK, we will need to go over your statement again at the station to confirm everything but I think we can leave it at that for now. The Crime Scene Unit must be nearly finished so we’ll leave shortly but I’m afraid we are going to have to take your daughters into protective custody until we can confirm it was suicide.”
Jim’s demeanor suddenly changed from meek and mourning to strong and protective. “What? No, you can’t do that! They need their father or at least some familiar surroundings. I understand why you think you need to protect them but I can’t let you do this to them.”
“I’m sorry but the law requires it in such circumstances. It’s really beyond my control.”
“No, I can’t let you do this. Put me in jail if you have to but leave the girls with our neighbors instead!” he demanded.
“Well, I suppose we could hold you at the station for questioning overnight. Are you certain the children are safe with the neighbors?”
“Yes, they love the girls and often baby-sit for us. They’ll be fine there but not in some cold, sterile social services shelter!”
“OK, we’ll do it your way but you will have to sign a consent form to indemnify the city.”
“I don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes to shield them from this.” Jim eyes were red and swollen but set in determination.
“Alright then Jim, I’ll have an officer organize the paperwork and we will have to inspect the neighbors’ apartment but I think everything should be fine. As soon as suicide is confirmed, we can leave you to take the girls to Helen’s parents’ house. I’ll give you a business card for a specialized cleaning company that can take care of the carpet and chair.”
“Thank you Alan.” Jim’s face showed a vague glimmer of relief for the first time.
Alan took a quick look around the master bedroom and en suite bathroom then went out to inspect the rest of the apartment and examine the scene more closely. He knew that the body would have been jostled and moved during Jim Benson’s attempts to revive his wife and the size of the blood pool made it difficult to detect movement and origin but the blood pattern on the seat of the chair showed that it began with her seated. She had obviously fallen to the floor as her strength waned but there was really very little else Alan could glean from what he saw, other than Jim’s bloody footprints that verified his story of running to the kitchen and back for the towel and his bloody handprints on the telephone from when he’d called 911.
“I think I’ve got everything I can from this Dr. Wescott.” Alan called over to the Medical Examiner, who was waiting in the kitchen. “If you’re satisfied, you can take the body to the morgue.”
“Thank you Detective Beach. I was just waiting for your say-so. The Crime Scene Unit has already left so we’ll load the body and I’ll start the autopsy when I get back to the office. Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks doctor, I’ll do that.”
Alan spoke briefly with the uniformed officer at the door to arrange an inspection of the neighbor’s apartment and requested he take Jim Benson to be held for questioning at the police station and sign an indemnity form for the girls. He then headed back to the lobby of The Eleanor building to speak to the security staff. As he approached the security desk, he pulled his detective’s shield from his belt to show it to the guard on duty.
“Detective Beach, Homicide.” he announced.
“Homicide? I thought it was a suicide.” queried the large man behind the counter. He had a stiff, humorless appearance like that of a serious former soldier.
“All unnatural deaths are treated as suspicious until we can clear them so it falls on us to investigate. May I see the security monitoring office please?”
“Follow me detective.”
The big man seemed even bigger when he stood and led Alan to the door of The Eleanor’s security monitoring room. He punched a code into the digital keypad beside the door and pressed his thumb against the biometric reader. The door opened with the loud clunk of a heavy duty magnetic lock.
“That’s some security for a residential building.” Alan remarked.
“People pay top dollar to live here detective; they expect the best protection for their money.”
“Understandable.”
They entered the room and Alan saw at least twelve monitors, each screen divided into four different picture feeds, a large bank of digital recording machines, an elaborate computer hardware rack and two seated guards watching the monitors.
“Gentlemen, this is Detective Beach from Homicide. He has a few questions for you and will want to see some footage, I assume.”
“That’s right, thank you.” Alan confirmed, motioning to the monitoring system. “How many cameras are there?”
“One in each of the four residential elevators, one in the service elevator, four on each parking level, eight in the lobby, one each on the exterior at the front and rear of the building, three on each residential floor and four in the fitness and swimming pool areas.” came the efficient response of the guard from the lobby, who seemed to be in charge.
“That’s a lot of cameras. Before we look at footage, did Dr. Benson enter through the lobby or did she drive into the parking levels?”
“She arrived in a taxi at ten minutes past eight. I knew you would enquire so I already checked the log.”
“Did she seem OK to you at the time?”
“Dr. Benson was her usual, polite and pleasant self. She always took the time to say hello to us.”
“OK, can you show me the residential elevator footage from eight minutes past eight tonight please.”
“Yes sir.” replied one of the sea
ted guards.
The monitor showed the interior of all four elevators simultaneously on the same screen. As the time code passed through into ten minutes past eight, they observed Dr. Benson enter one of the elevators where a small man in a hat and overcoat was already standing. They could not see the man’s face or physical features because of his hat and coat but he stood diagonally to the right and behind the doctor. As the car travelled upward, they saw the man’s hand dart out to the base of her skull then pull back and then his other hand thrust out toward the floor selector buttons.
“Stop it there!” Alan’s raised voice commanded. “Can you get rid of the split-screen and make that one elevator full screen?”
“Of course. These cameras are not the usual cheap black and whites you see in some places.”
The man pushed some buttons and the screen showed the one elevator more clearly now. He made the digital recording start again from just before the man’s hand extended to the back of Helen’s neck.
“Do you want slo-mo?”
“That would be great!”
The image played at about one third of its normal speed and Alan squinted, straining to see exactly what was happening on the small security monitor. As the man’s hand reached her neck, he asked the guard to freeze the image. The man’s gloved hand held a small, strange looking implement to Helen’s neck for a split second before withdrawing. Alan’s eyes narrowed into a frown and he tersely instructed the guards to give him a copy of the elevator footage five minutes before and after the event, so he could take it back to the crime lab and examine it properly on the large, high definition monitors. He also asked them to forward a copy of all the parking level and front entrance camera footage for the previous fifteen minutes to the station as soon as they could get it copied.
Alan’s mind was racing now. According to Jim Benson, no one else could have gotten into their apartment so it had to be either spousicide or suicide but the image clearly showed a third party do something to the doctor before she got to her home. But if this man was to blame for her death, how could it be? What could someone possibly do to make another person commit suicide? His thoughts were now like a guided missile laser-locked on target. He grabbed the copy of the digital footage from the guard as soon as he’d burned the DVD for him and strode briskly toward his car. He was in no mood for traffic hold-ups so he turned on the flashing police lights situated behind the radiator grill and in the rear parcel shelf then began speeding through the lights and traffic to the station. This was out of character for the normally patient and methodical detective but he sensed he had to get on top of this as quickly as possible.
He skidded to a halt in the police parking garage and strode briskly to the stairs then quickly made his way to the Crime Lab.
“Larry, can you get this footage up on the big LED monitor straight away please!” he called to the technician as he walked through the sliding glass doors.
“Sure can Al. Is it a disc or a hard drive?”
Alan handed Larry the disc without speaking and he inserted it into a computer. He motioned for Alan to sit at the control panel and pointed to the controls.
“The joystick is to control forward and reverse motion as well as slo-mo and freeze-frame. This knob controls zoom. Be my guest.”
Larry Phillips enjoyed working with Alan. He was polite, highly intelligent, thorough and intuitive but usually much calmer than he was now. Larry knew that it would take something out of the ordinary to cause his haste so he was happy to let him take the controls. As the image came up on the high definition, fifty five inch LED screen, Alan quickly familiarized himself with the controls. He moved the image forward until he reached the point where the man’s hand went to the back of Helen’s neck and froze the image.
“I still can’t make this out Larry. Any ideas?”
They both went around the control panel to get closer to the monitor and peered intently at the image on the massive screen. It looked like a very small glue gun but the image was slightly blurred because of the speed with which the man’s hand had moved.
“Sorry Alan but with the speed of movement, there doesn’t seem to be a clear frame.”
Alan suddenly lurched back from the monitor to grab the phone. He picked up the hand piece and quickly dialed the Medical Examiner.
“Dr. Wescott; it’s Alan.”
“Yes Alan, did you forget something?”
“No Doctor. Please don’t take my tone the wrong way but this is urgent. Can you examine the back of Dr. Benson’s neck right now and tell me what you see.”
“Well, OK detective but…”
“Now please doctor!” Alan’s voice came tersely.
“OK, I’m on it. I’ll put you on speaker.”
Dr. Wescott carefully rolled Helen’s body on the examination table and drew the fluorescently lit magnifying glass toward her on its folding arm. He gently pulled her hair away from her neck and searched for anything out of the ordinary. As he came to the hairline approximately three quarters of an inch to the right of the centre of her spine, he called out.
“I’ve got something here - looks like a very small puncture wound!”
“Can you tell what it was made by?”
“Not really but I can tell you that it was smaller than a normal hypodermic needle, maybe even smaller than an insulin needle as far as I can tell. If you hadn’t specified the location, I might not have picked it up at all. Does it tell you something detective?”
“It tells me three things doctor: This wasn’t suicide, the husband is innocent, and I need to find out who Bryan Adler is. But first, we need to examine the rest of the security footage.”
Chapter 3
Beach’s frustration was palpable and filled the crime lab like a fog as he stared intently at the big screen. Larry was wary of interrupting his thoughts but decided it was time to break the deadlock.
“I’m sorry Alan but there really is nothing there. We’ve been through every frame of the security footage from the parking levels, the entry and exit, the elevators and the twelfth floor hallway that the Eleanor guards couriered over. This guy really knew what he was doing. Not once did he expose any recognizable feature to any camera.”
“I know Larry. It’s not your fault - I’m just frustrated!” Alan said in an uncharacteristic tone. “I’ll leave you to your work. I apologize for my mood and for the wasted hours.”
“That’s OK but I don’t think it was a waste of time. At least you know that this guy is a professional, which indicates he had a specific agenda.”
Alan looked thoughtfully at his colleague.
“You know what Larry? You’re right. I’ve been looking at this the wrong way and you’ve corrected my focus. I was so knotted up trying to find some physical identifier that I missed the subtlety. That is a wise observation and I commend you.”
“Thanks Alan - glad I could help. What’s your next step?”
“I’ve got to go with the only other lead I have for now and find Bryan Adler. If that doesn’t lead to anything then I’ll have to start interviewing friends, neighbors and colleagues. Thanks again. See you later.”
“Good luck Alan.” Larry called out as Beach breezed out the door.
Arriving at his desk, Alan woke his computer and began searching the police database for his quarry. There were two Bryan Adlers in the local database with minor traffic infringements but neither had a history of violence. One of them was a retired school teacher in his late seventies and the other was a former soldier who had recently been paralyzed by an IED while on a mission in the Middle East. He couldn’t see any kind of connection between them and Helen Benson so he dismissed them both and widened his search. Accessing the national crime database, he came across some more interesting characters but one stood out in particular.
“Bryan Adler; convicted serial killer and diagnosed psychopath – now here’s something I can work with.” he murmured to himself.
He scribbled down the details of the psychiatric ho
spital where Adler was being held and picked up the phone to make an appointment. The facility was about one hundred and fifty miles away, near a small town in West Virginia. His appointment was set for ten o’clock the next morning so he decided to drive there that night and stay in a hotel to be fresh for his meeting with the serial killer. He then went to Lieutenant Walker’s office to get the necessary permission to investigate across the state line. It was a request that would require a good deal of paperwork so Alan prepared himself for his boss’s reaction. After knocking on the door, he opened it and walked over to Thomas Walker’s desk. He fully expected an unpleasant conversation with some shouting thrown in so he decided he might as well just dive in and come straight to the point. As Alan finished his request, Walker looked up, his face tight in a grimace. Alan steeled himself for the tirade but it didn’t come.
“This is a major pain in my ass Beach! But I trust your judgment so go ahead.” his head tilted down toward the pile of paperwork in front of him as he sighed loudly. “I’ll start on the documents and call the West Virginia State Police to get clearance. I assume you’ll be armed?”
“You know me boss; safety first.” Alan smiled widely.
“Don’t be a smartass Beach. Just go! I’ll have the approval by the time you hit the border. Call me with the name and fax number of your hotel so I can send you the form. And don’t make any trouble over there!”
“No sir, I’ll be in and out before you know it.”
“Yeah, yeah… Well, what are you waiting for? Go!” Thompson waved dismissively at the door.
Alan always found his boss’s gruff manner bemusing. He knew that underneath the tough exterior, Thompson was a great father to his children, a loving husband to his wife and a truly good man. He supposed the demeanor was designed to convey an air of authority but he wasn’t fooling Alan.