True Blue Detective

by Vito Zuppardo

  “I understand. You know what to do, just follow procedures,” Dr. Ross said.

  Christie quickly went into action and called the police and the house doctor, who followed procedures used on every death in the care center. Both the police and the house doctor arrived within a few minutes. They confirmed everything had been done to save Doris’s life. Christie had done everything to the best of her ability, in a timely matter. The doctor and police signed off on the death certificate and gave her a copy.

  All residents of Riverside Inn signed a donor form when they first arrived. Some knew about it; some didn’t. So, Doris’s body was sent to St. John Medical Center just a few blocks away and within an hour, her body was disassembled like a used car in a junkyard. Every healthy, human body part had a use and was properly prepared and put on hold until Dr. Ross arrived. He had his agenda; so it didn’t matter if someone was at the top of the list and this body part was a perfect match. The donated organs were in his control. At Riverside Inn, living was not an option. Residents were under Dr. Ross’s control from the day they arrived, and to him, they were worth more dead than alive.

  Chapter 3

  It was a beautiful spring day in New Orleans; one day when all people could hear the birds singing. Tom and Patty Nelson lived in a renovated shotgun house. While the home was in the prestigious Garden District of New Orleans, it was far from being a mansion. It was two blocks off St. Charles Avenue, where the world-famous streetcars ran from the river to the business district, right in front of the multimillion-dollar antebellum homes that faced the avenue. But the only comparison between the two was that they both had the same postal ZIP code.

  Patty sat on a bench in her small backyard, drinking a cup of delicious, Louisiana-blend coffee. It was her way of getting the morning started, or just prolonging something she should have done weeks ago. She had been pregnant twice in the past two years, only to lose both of the babies before full-term. Her doctor recommended a hysterectomy. With life throwing a curve of never having children, she planned to go back to work. But with the declining New Orleans economy, finding a job, at least one to match her degree from Tulane University, might be a task that would take some time.

  She knew where to start her job search, but she could not commit to a full-time job until she got her health problems handled, and she needed to have a face-to-face sit down with her father-in-law, Zack. Going into the hospital and then back to work was a move her husband, Tom, had been against for years. But he agreed that Zack could no longer stay with them. Zack was healthy but careless, and best not left alone. Patty never felt safe leaving him home by himself, ever since he fell asleep on the sofa smoking a cigar. She came back in time to put the flames out and get Zack outside to fresh air. From that point, Zack staying home alone was not an option.

  Patty took the last sip of her coffee as the morning sun shone on her face as it peeked over the trees. It was time to take care of her medical problems, but first, she had to face Zack so she could move on with her life.

  Tom’s father, Zack Nelson, age seventy-one, moved in with Tom and Patty shortly after his wife died. He enjoyed living with them and was up and bouncing at his usual time of seven a.m., something that always bothered Patty. Even on Sunday when they could all sleep late, he was up at seven a.m., brewing coffee and making just enough noise to wake everyone.

  What was to be an in-and-out, minor operation for Zack’s wife turned into a week-long stay in the hospital. She was then moved to Evergreen Rehab Center to recuperate for a few days. Things were going fine, and she was scheduled to be released the next day, but she suffered a massive heart attack during the night and died. It was hard for Zack to put this out of his mind. While it is always hard to lose a loved one, it was how it came about that had tormented Zack for years.

  About five years earlier, Zack was planning for his retirement. His idea was to retire after thirty years with the New Orleans police department. He started as a patrol officer in the residential area of the French Quarter, and his first assignment was five square blocks from Royal Street to Esplanade Avenue. It was all on foot, kept him in shape, and helped him to know the neighborhood. That is how police officers gave him his nickname, Flat Foot.

  He worked his way from walking a beat to homicide detective and had every opportunity for further advancement but always turned it down. He loved working on every case to the fullest and did all he could to close them, allowing the victim’s families to move on with their lives. That was so troubling for Zack. As hard as he worked for other people, he couldn’t get closure on his wife’s case.

  He remembered that one day, as with many others, he and his partner were working late. They were following up on a hot lead that would put a man behind bars for murder. Zack got a call on his radio that his wife had been robbed, at gunpoint, on a side street just off Carrollton Avenue. By the time Zack got there, the area was crawling with police. When something happens to police officers or a member of their family, there is no shortage of police help. Zack could see his wife was being cared for and found the lead police officer on the scene.

  “It was a bump and go,” the officer said.

  The report said a man walked up behind Zack’s wife as she was putting something in her car trunk. It happened so quickly; all she could remember was a gun pointed at her. He was dark-skinned, maybe in his early twenties. He took her purse, pushed her to the ground, and leaned over her. He pointed the gun and said, “Now, I’m a man. See me fly.” He took off on foot, and the purse was found empty in a garbage can about a block away. The only other thing she knew was that when the gun was pointed at her, she could see a small, butterfly tattoo between his thumb and finger as he gripped the gun. As he tightened his grip, the wings of the butterfly tattoo opened up larger, as if it would fly.

  Her arm was placed in a sling, and the first observation by a paramedic was a separated shoulder. After working with doctors for months, they did a minor operation that would fix her shoulder. A few weeks later, his wife died at Evergreen Rehab Center.

  Remembering everything about his wife’s last days had troubled Zack for years. The detectives worked every lead and similar case but had very few clues. There was no one arrested for the crime. Zack always blamed the robbery for leading to his wife’s death. To Zack, it was like the robber pulled the trigger and killed her.

  Patty sat at the breakfast table with Zack and Tom. Zack had made his usual eggs and grits for breakfast, and the three ate. Not a word was said. Patty rehearsed in her mind how she would tell Zack this was his last day at home for a while, and she hoped he would understand.

  Doctors and healthcare companies had written very favorable articles in magazines, and even recently, in the local newspaper; and the Riverside Inn was one of the top, adult living centers in Louisiana. Patty thought that enrolling Zack in Riverside was in his best interest, in addition to and her and Tom’s best interest.

  Someone had to break the tension and silence at the breakfast table. Patty said, “You know Riverside Inn is an excellent adult living center.”

  “Adult living center? You mean, old folks’ home, don’t you?” Zack quickly asked.

  “Pop, this is one of the top facilities in the state,” Tom said.

  “Why can’t I just stay here?”

  “Pop, we have been through this a million times,” Tom said, trying to make eye contact with him.

  Patty stood next to Zack and put her arm around him. “We are not pushing you out. We just think this is best for all of us at this time. I just need time to recuperate from my hospital stay and find a job. Once I settle into a job, I’ll get a housekeeper to stay with you, and everything will get back to normal.”

  “Housekeeper?” Zack asked with a slight perkiness.

  “Sure, Pop, someone to help clean the house and look after you,” Tom said, reassuring him.

  “I don’t want a fat woman or one of those skinny women I can see every bone in her body,” Zack sternly said.

  �
��I’m sure she will be a lovely lady,” Patty said.

  “No ugly women either. I don’t want to be looking at an ugly woman all day.”

  “Pop, we are not matchmakers. She’ll be someone qualified to stay and take care of you,” Tom said with a smile.

  “Well, I might want to take her out for lunch one day. I want a woman who improves my image, in case I’m seen while I’m out. I might run into one of my friends.”

  Patty knew this was Zack’s way of accepting that he was going to Riverside Inn. He just had to change the subject and focus on something else.

  “Don’t worry, Pop; I will have you interview several, thirty-year-old women built like Miss America. It is all based on your approval,” Patty said.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Zack said with a broad smile.

  Daniel Henry Holmes opened Holmes department store in 1849. Canal Street was primarily residential, but D.H. Holmes saw it as a location for his dry goods emporium. The broad thoroughfare and its central location between the old and new sections of New Orleans were attractive for customer shopping.

  Tom Nelson was the store manager for Holmes. The store had many facelifts over the years and grew into a landmark, four-story, department store. Few places like were this left on Canal Street, and it struggled every day to keep its doors open, as more people shopped in the suburbs closer to their homes.

  Patty dropped Zack off at Holmes right before closing time. He and Tom were to pick out some new clothes for his stay at Riverside Inn. Zack never liked shopping for clothes. All his so-called dress clothes were like new, because he seldom wore anything other than his favorite blue denim pants. Tom had pointed out to him several times that his clothes were new in 1965, and it was time to update his wardrobe.

  “This is a nice shirt, Pop,” Tom said, putting the shirt against his chest. Zack shook his head, expressing his lack of interest.

  “Good night, Mr. Nelson,” a young saleslady said.

  “Good evening,” said Tom.

  “You might want to get her phone number. She looks like she qualifies to sit with me after my time is up at Riverside Inn,” Zack said with a big smile.

  Tom picked out some shirts, slacks, and a ball cap. He was not interested in Zack’s approval, because everything he showed him spurred a negative comment. They proceeded to the counter and had all the clothes laid out for the clerk to process payment. As the clerk scanned the ball cap, Zack looked shocked.

  “No cap! No cap!”

  “Pop, what are you shouting about?”

  “No cap. Look at me,” Zack said, as he turned to the clerk.

  “What do you see?”

  “I don’t understand,” the clerk said.

  “My hair! I have a full head of hair. Pull it! It’s real. If I wear a cap, people are going to think I am wearing a toupee. You’ve seen people with caps on. They only wear hats to cover up their hairless heads. I’m not wearing a hat!”

  “No problem, Pop. No need to get upset,” Tom said, as he took the cap from the clerk.

  “I think you would be just as cute with a bald head,” the clerk said.

  “Please don’t encourage him,” Tom said.

  Zack leaned over the counter and whispered to the sales clerk. “You know he is putting me in a home.”

  “A retirement center. Don’t pay attention to him,” Tom quickly said.

  “Home, retirement center, what is the difference? It all adds up to the same thing. People hang around all day waiting for the calling. They should change the name from retirement center to the calling center. That would be something old people could better relate to.”

  The sales clerk looked at Zack and patted him on the hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Tom took the bag and pulled Zack by the arm. “Let’s go; you have said enough.”

  Zack continued to hold the clerk’s hand. “You see, he doesn’t want me talking about it. He knows it’s wrong.”

  Tom pulled a little harder, and they walked off.

  “Don’t have kids. In the end, they will stick you in a home,” Zack shouted.

  “Why do you have to do that?” Tom asked.

  “Do what?” Zack replied.

  “Make such a ruckus and get people all upset for nothing.”

  “I’m just having fun, and she has soft hands. If you had played along, I might have gotten a hug from her. You know a good hug from a young girl would help an old heart to keep pumping.”

  “Your heart is fine. Let’s get out of here,” Tom said.

  It was near closing time, and the last few customers were leaving. Tom stood at the front door and thanked them for shopping at Holmes department store. Zack stood next to Tom, mimicking his every move with a smile and a hand wave.

  Zack reached for an elderly lady’s arm as she was walking out. “Did they put you in a home yet?”

  “Excuse me?” the lady asked.

  Tom quickly intervened, taking the woman by the arm, escorting her out the door. “Good night, madam, and thank you for shopping with us,” he said with a smile.

  “Please don’t harass the customers, Pop,” Tom said, giving Zack a stern look.

  “Good night, Mr. Nelson,” a lady said, as she walked out the door.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Settoon. See you tomorrow.”

  Tom took a bright orange, plastic card out of his pocket and motioned for Zack to follow him.

  “Let me ask you a question,” Zack said to Tom.

  “What’s that, Pop?” he asked, not knowing what might come out of Zack’s mouth.

  “What kind of name is Settoon?” Zack asked, in his usual loud voice.

  “Will you keep your voice down?” Tom said, looking around to be sure Mrs. Settoon had not heard him.

  “What the hell is a Settoon? When I was coming up, names were simple: Jones, Smith, Nelson. Things are getting too complicated.”

  Tom looked at him in complete amazement. “You don’t like caps. You don’t like the woman’s name. You’ve got an objection to everything.”

  “Not everything, I liked that cute sales clerk,” Zack said with a chuckle.

  Tom took the orange electronic key card, about the size of a credit card, and put it into a slot to lock the door. On the number pad, he punched in six numbers. He pulled the card out, and Zack was amazed when he heard the doors close and lock. The lights in the store went dark, and a red light on the security camera over the front entrance turned red.

  “That’s it, Pop.”

  “Don’t people use keys anymore?”

  “Technology, Pop, you have to change with the times.”

  “So, if you lose the card, anyone can get in?” Zack asked.

  “No, you would have to have the card and know my six-digit code,” Tom said.

  “Oh, that’s really scientific, a card and a six-digit number. In your case, you used your birthdate. You punched in 020271; that’s February second, 1971,” Zack snickered.

  “Let’s keep that to yourself,” Tom said, as they walked to the car.

  “I was a detective for thirty years. I was trained to observe things,” he shouted as he kept pace with him.

  “You’re off the job now. Relax, stop watching everything,” Tom said.

  “You could have used something more original than your birthdate. A down-and-out drug addict could have figured that one out,” Zack said in a sarcastic tone.

  “Let it go, Pop,” Tom said, trying not to let his frustration show. “It’s how things are done now.”

  “I’m just saying. You could have.”

  “Let it go,” Tom said, cutting Zack off as he opened the car door and got in.

  Zack walked around to the passenger side and just stood by the door. After a few seconds, Tom put the window down and asked, “What are you doing?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t have my orange card and code to get in,” Zack said with a childish grin.

  Patty had corresponded with Robert Sherwood, the director of enrollment
for Riverside Inn, for months regarding Zack’s application. With Riverside’s strict health policy, it wasn’t easy to accept Zack. He needed a clean bill of health from a cardiologist, a kidney specialist, and his blood work had to be free of any problems. She often wondered how Zack put up with all the doctor’s appointments and time it took waiting to get in to see each one. She kept telling Zack that with approval from all the doctors and a clean bill of health, the Ross Foundation would pay the bill for the first year. That’s what Patty needed, a full year to get her life and finances in order. It was like a dream come true when she finally received Zack’s acceptance letter in the mail.

  Patty, Tom, and Zack arrived about noon at Riverside Inn and were cheerfully greeted by Robert Sherwood in the lobby. They were pleased that Mr. Sherwood was so involved with the daily operation of the center. He escorted them to an office, where he introduced them to his assistant who had all the admission papers, ready for them to sign.

  “Zack, Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, this is my assistant, Jack Warren. He will handle all the paperwork and escort you around the building. Please stay and have lunch with Zack before you leave,” Mr. Sherwood said, as he shook hands with them.

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Sherwood, for everything,” Patty graciously said.

  Jack Warren welcomed them as he stood up, towering over them. “You sure are a big fellow, a wrestler or a bodybuilder?” Zack asked.

  “Bodybuilder, Mr. New Orleans twice,” Jack said

  Patty, a little uncomfortable with Zack’s remarks, suggested he sit out in the waiting area so they could talk. Zack wandered out to the waiting area and sat in a chair across from two ladies.

  The two women sat upright in their chairs with their purses on their laps. One had a blue and white, polka dot dress on. The other had on a white, cotton sundress with a yellow flower on the shoulder. Both had silk scarves around their necks to accent the dresses. Neither acknowledged Zack and sat quietly.

  Zack finally broke the silence. “What are you two in for?”

  “Excuse me! What are we in for?” one lady asked.