Stagecoach Road

by Daniel Kamen

  Benny walked into the waiting room, forcing a great big smile. Tracey looked on from her receptionist window.

  “What is it?” Benny asked.

  Carla plucked a thick envelope from her purse and handed it to Dr. Weinstein, astonishingly not making an immediate comment about his bruised face.

  “Here, open it,” Carla said. “I think you’ll like it.”

  “I hope it wasn’t expensive. You know me. I get all funny about accepting gifts.”

  “No, no,” said Carla. “I know your fifteen-year anniversary is coming up and I wanted to get you a little something.”

  Tracey looked at her boss, then quickly looked down. Benny took the envelope and looked at Carla.

  “Well? Well?” Carla said. “Open it!”

  Dr. Weinstein unwrapped the unsealed white envelope and pulled out a cassette tape and two gift certificates to Grover’s Steakhouse, Marsha’s favorite restaurant.

  “Thank you, Carla,” Dr. Weinstein said, glancing only at the gift certificate and giving Carla an uninspired hug.

  “You’re welcome, Dr. Weinstein. Do you like the tape?”

  “Oh, the tape,” Benny said, looking at the title and almost dropping it to the floor after he read it: Sonny and Cher’s Greatest Hits featuring All I Ever Need Is You.

  There wasn’t anything shy about Carla. She was a huge Sonny and Cher fan and saw fit to give a performance right in the waiting room. Hair, hips and all. Carla sang the first verse as she gyrated around the room then said, “Verse two!”

  “No, please!” Benny blurted out, trying to make a joke out of it. “That was good. Thank you.”

  Dr. Weinstein motioned his exuberant patient to follow him into an exam room and thought how creepy it was Carla chose that song to sing. Like she knew something. But she wasn’t that smart.

  “Well, you’re going to find out sooner or later,” Dr. Weinstein said to his grateful and adoring patient while positioning her on the adjusting table. “Marsha and I are getting divorced.”

  To Carla, there was nothing better than juicy gossip. It was like talking dirty to her. She especially perked up hearing this news, and connected the dots her way. In some other universe, in some twisted, imaginary, delusional way, she thought her fantasy was now coming true--that Dr. Weinstein was leaving his wife for her. Like this was going to happen. Benny may have been a cold blooded murderer, but he wasn’t crazy.

  “Give that to me again,” Carla said, trying in vain to hold back a smile. “Did big bad Marsha beat you up?” she said, finally acknowledging the bruises.

  “It’s true,” Dr. Weinstein said. “I’ll be looking for an apartment later today. And no, Marsha didn’t beat me up. I got into a scuffle at the track last night when someone tried to rob me, but everything’s OK. My mind is now on getting an apartment.”

  This was Carla’s chance. She didn’t want to blow it.

  “It just so happens Alex is out of town and won’t be back for another five days. He’s fishing in Ontario with his boss and a few others. You can stay with me!”

  “Thanks, but no,” Dr. Weinstein said. “The Indiana licensing board wouldn’t allow it, you know, it looks bad going home with a patient. I’ll be staying with my folks in Miller.”

  Carla looked dejected, but she bought it. At least he wasn’t staying with another woman. There was still hope.

  “Good idea,” Carla said, accepting the minor consolation. “You’re going to keep this a family affair.”

  Benny’s eyes widened when he heard her remark about ‘family affair.’ The irony was uncanny.

  Dr. Weinstein treated a dozen patients that morning and finally, by noon, had a chance to relax in his office. Tracey had already left for lunch and wasn’t due back until a quarter of one. He had a few minutes to himself so he thought he’d finally look at the race results from the previous night’s Balmoral card. He turned to the last page of the Post Tribune’s sports section.

  “Let’s see….Balmoral results. Hah. Here they are. Okay, fourth race. Here it is,” Benny muttered to himself. “YES! YES! YES!” he shouted. Gerald’s Pal won by a nose and paid $16.40 to win. That was for a $2.00 bet. Benny bet $800.00 and won over sixty-five hundred smackeroos!

  Okay, good, thought Benny. Things are breaking my way. I feel lucky. I feel like I can get away with anything now. How can I lose?

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  May 26th, 1992. Tuesday afternoon around 1:00 p.m.

  “I’m telling you, I know there was someone with him,” Frank Stram emphatically said to Lt. Jefferson, finally getting a hold of the cop. “I told you, it wasn’t just the nigger I saw,” Frank said, forgetting Lt. Jefferson was black. “Sorry, I mean the colored guy.”

  There was a short pause. Lt. Jefferson jotted something down in his notebook.

  “We went through this last night,” Lt. Jefferson said. “A hundred times. You said you were drunk and only thought you heard another voice. You never said you saw anyone else. How do you know it wasn’t the dogs barking?”

  “Because that nigger, I mean colored guy couldn’t possibly overpower Gerald by himself and kill all those dogs.”

  “But you said Mr. Hill was also drunk.”

  “He was, but I’ve seen him fight drunk before. He can take care of himself and anyone else--unless he’s fighting two guys.”

  Lt. Jefferson was more receptive that day to listen to Frank’s story. Frank called him the night before when he got in the house, but he didn’t sound coherent--the officer believed he was making it up. But Lt. Jefferson thought maybe Frank had something--with Lt. Mitchell dead and Gerald missing.

  “I know we talked about Benjamin Weinstein before,” said Lt. Jefferson. “I know you think he’s involved and maybe after you, too. But I went to see Weinstein at his house and he had a pretty good alibi for the nights of the other murders. I kind of doubt he’s the one. He has too much to lose. But I could be wrong. Anyone can go nuts.”

  “Yeah, well I think he has,” Frank maintained. “I think he has a good motive. I don’t have to tell you. You saw my record, and the others. Do me a favor and lean on him for a while. I know he’s the one. And I think I can prove it!”

  “Well, all right,” Lt. Jefferson agreed. “We’re doing the best we can with what little resources we have.”

  “Your best isn’t making me any safer,” Frank said. “Now I got a job and I’m paying taxes and I want protection. At least make him take a lie detector test.”

  “A polygraph would be nice, but we can’t force him unless we have strong evidence. But I’ll talk to him and see if he’ll volunteer.”

  “Okay,” Frank said. “You’ve got my number. Let me know what he says. I’m taking my sick days now and I’ll be home for a week. I’ll be looking out for myself as well.”

  “Okay. Will do, Mr. Stram.”

  Lt. Jefferson made some more notes and called for his secretary, a sixty-six-year-old retiree, to tape his next phone conversation.

  “I’m going to call Benjamin Weinstein at his office. I don’t know if he’s there, but I’d like you to record the conversation once I get him on the line, okay Orlena?”

  “Yes Otis,” Orlena said. “I’ll see if he’s there now. What’s his number?”

  Orlena dialed Dr. Weinstein’s office. Tracey answered on the first ring. Orlena pressed the record button on the answering machine and handed the phone to her boss.

  “Hello, may I speak to Benjamin Weinstein?” Lieutenant Jefferson asked.

  Tracey just finished rescheduling a patient when the officer called, and was a bit distracted.

  “May I tell him who’s calling?”

  “Yes. I’m Lieutenant Jefferson from the Gary Police Department. I’d like to speak to Benjamin Weinstein if he has a minute.”

  Tracey didn’t know what this was about. She thought it could be one of those phony police charity scams.

  “He’s with a patient now,” Tracey said. “Can I have him call you back?”

&nb
sp; “He can, but this is rather important. I’d like to speak with him now if possible.”

  “All right,” Tracey said. “I’ll see if I can pull him away.”

  Tracey got up and hopped over Mitzie who was taking another one of her two dozen daily naps. She softly knocked on the exam room. Dr. Weinstein opened the door.

  “What is it?” Benny asked. “I’m in the middle of an ultrasound treatment.”

  “There’s a Lieutenant Jefferson on the phone. Says it’s important. Do you want to take the call?”

  “Oh, for the love of….” Benny softy said, not wanting to swear in front of his patient. “Yeah, tell him I’ll be there in thirty seconds.”

  Tracey walked back to her desk and held the phone until Dr. Weinstein walked in his office. She saw the nervous bone crusher pick up the phone. He looked worried.

  “Yes, this is Dr. Weinstein--just a second. Tracey, hang up the phone!”

  Tracey reluctantly hung up on her end. She desperately wanted to know what this was all about.

  “What can I do for you lieutenant?”

  “Hello, Dr. Weinstein?” the lieutenant said, holding the phone to his ear on his shoulder while taking notes. “Do you have a little time to talk?”

  Benny’s day was going his way but not anymore.

  “Yes,” Dr. Weinstein said. “I’ve got about three minutes. Someone’s waiting for me in a treatment room.”

  “Thanks. This won’t take long,” the officer continued. “I don’t know if you read about the dead cop found in Miller last night in his car--or the dead dogs and the missing man in Gary. Did you hear about that? I think you once knew the missing man, Gerald Hill?”

  Benny put his elbows on his desk, resting his face in his hands.

  “Yes,” Dr. Weinstein answered. “I see it right here. I’ve got today’s Tribune. But what does that have to do with me?”

  “Well nothing, I hope,” the officer said, offering Dr. Weinstein a window. “So if it’s okay with you I’d like you to take a polygraph and erase all doubts.”

  Benny felt a knot build up in his stomach. He wasn’t sure how to answer. Should he call Steve or a defense attorney?

  “Sure!” Dr. Weinstein confidently said, thinking he just said the stupidest thing in the world. “I’ve got nothing to hide. When and where?”

  The lieutenant didn’t expect such eager cooperation, but he wasn’t going to question it.

  “How about later on tonight? I can arrange for an examiner to be at your office at 7:00 p.m.”

  “Tonight?” Dr. Weinstein said, surprised by the suddenness. “I had plans for this evening, but I don’t see why I can’t break them. Is it okay to meet at your office? Lots of snoops around here, you know.”

  “Sure, it’s okay. Let me give you directions.”

  After getting off the phone, Dr. Weinstein went back to the treatment room to finish up with his patient. After his patient left, Dr. Weinstein had fifteen minutes until his next one. He told Tracey he needed to get some peppermint Lifesavers at the Walgreens across the street, then walked out without putting on a jacket. What he really wanted to do was call Rings from the payphone outside the drugstore. Benny looked around before putting a quarter in the phone, then dialed Rings at his house.

  “Hello?” answered the female voice.

  “Hi, is this Twila?”

  “Yes. Benny?”

  “Yes, hi Twila. I need to speak to Rings right away. It’s very important.”

  “Oh Benny!” Twila continued, ecstatic with the cash Rings won the night before. “It’s so good to hear from you. And what a surprise last night. Oh, is that money going to come in handy. I was so sore sitting on that rickety wheelchair all day and now…..”

  “Hold it for a second,” Benny interrupted. “I’m in an awful hurry. I need to speak to Rings if he’s there.”

  “Oh, Rings is at the store,” Twila said, realizing she was rambling. “J.J.’s working him to death today. Try him there.”

  “Thanks,” Benny said, hanging up the phone and inserting another quarter.

  “J.J.’s,” the youthful voice said on the other end.

  “Rings?”

  “Yo! Is this……?”

  “Yes, this is Sox. Listen, I need for you to do me a huge, huge favor.”

  “Uh oh,” Rings said with much apprehension. “Are you in trouble? Or me?”

  “No, just listen. I need you to go back home right now and see what kind of medication your mom is taking and give me the list of the drugs.”

  “My mom? Why?”

  “Please. This is very urgent. I’ll explain later. But go home now and I’ll call you back in a half hour. Don’t call me at the office. I’ll call you.”

  “Okay, Sox. But you’ve got me worried.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll call you in a half hour--later.”

  Benny bought the mints and walked back to his office. His 1:45 p.m. patient was already waiting for him--Gail!

  “Oh, hi Gail,” Dr. Weinstein said, taking the mints out of the bag. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  “Can I have one?” Gail asked with Midwest southern charm. “You never know when these can come in handy!”

  Dr. Weinstein opened the bag and handed Gail a few individually wrapped peppermints.

  “Wow! All of these?” Gail flirtatiously said. “Did you plan a long appointment!?”

  Dr. Weinstein did his best to ignore her advances--if indeed it was one. He didn’t fancy himself as a lady’s man and thought Gail was acting. But now that he was getting divorced he figured, “What the hell.” But he was in no mood for small talk or fooling around. His mind was on calling Rings after he finished up with Gail.

  “Dr. Weinstein, your wife called again,” Tracey said in full voice. “She was hysterical on the phone and wants you to call her back right away.”

  Big mouth, Dr. Weinstein thought. Now everyone has to know my business.

  “Okay, I’ll call her back,” Dr. Weinstein said. “I’ll be back in two minutes, Gail.”

  Dr. Weinstein went to his office and closed the door. Gail walked to the receptionist window to chat up Tracey about Dr. Weinstein’s wife.

  “What’s that all about?” Gail asked like she had a right to know, pretending to be concerned. “Is there trouble in paradise?”

  Tracey lowered her head and finally mustered up the fortitude to speak softly.

  “They’re getting divorced, shhhh,” Tracey whispered. “Don’t tell him I told you.”

  “Aw, the poor thang!” Gail said, faking pity. “That poor boy must be suffering.” She sat back down and waited for Dr. Weinstein.

  “I can see you now, Gail,” Dr. Weinstein said. “This way.”

  Gail followed Dr. Weinstein to treatment room 3, the last door on the left, furthest from the receptionist room.

  “Tracey told you. I can read it on your face. You know.”

  “Yes, and I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?” Gail said, continuing to feign sympathy.

  “No, nothing,” Dr. Weinstein said. “These things happen.”

  “I know how to cheer you up!” Gail said, sliding her finger between her breasts. Dr. Weinstein pretended not to notice.

  “How’s your neck today? Is it doing any better?” Benny asked while lowering the adjusting table.

  “My neck is much better, thanks to you! And I can make you feel better too,” Gail said, her lilac perfume permeating the air. “I can make you feel real good! Anytime--anywhere!”

  At that point, Dr. Weinstein just wanted to quickly finish up the appointment so he could call Rings back. But there was no doubt--Gail was coming on to him. And he was now a free man, well, sort of.

  “Maybe some other time,” Dr. Weinstein said. “I’ll be busy all week. But…..”

  “But what!” Gail said, running her finger down her stomach, past her navel. “You need to be shown a good time. I’m going to watch Ricky play in his band this Friday at a club in Portage. My mom’s co
ming with. Do you want to come too?”

  “Your mom’s coming with?” Benny asked excitedly. “Yeah, I think I will. Just to see the look on her face. Which club is it?”

  “It’s down Route 12. A place called the Brass Bomber. Have you ever heard of it?”

  Benny sure did hear of the Brass Bomber--and the apartment complex a block away. That’s where it took place that horrible night some nineteen years earlier. That’s where it happened. At that apartment. That’s where Laura lost her virginity to that nasty boy--Gail’s father, Larry Kroll! He wouldn’t miss a chance to see Laura again. I wonder how she looks after all of these years, thought Benny. Is she married? I’ll bet she got fat! That’s what usually happens when you start off as sexy as she was. Yep, I’ll bet she looks a sight. Well, she’ll see that I’m still in shape!

  “Yes, I’ve heard of the Brass Bomber,” Dr. Weinstein said. “No one’s mentioned that place to me in years. It was a club way back when, though I never went there. What time Friday?”

  “Ricky’s band doesn’t start until after ten. But mom and I will be there at eight. We can pick you up if you like. I know mom would like to see you. I know you guys used to go together. Yes, she knows I’ve been coming here and she’s been asking all sorts of questions--hey, you never know!”

  Dr. Weinstein was tempted. Very tempted. But he didn’t know what the next couple of days would bring. Should he even make plans for Friday?

  “Tell you what,” Dr. Weinstein continued. “I’ll be staying with my folks for a couple of weeks until I find an apartment. Why don’t you meet me here at my office--say around sevenish. It can’t take us more than forty minutes to get to Portage.”

  “Where do your folks live?”

  “In Miller, but I’ll just be finishing up with patients around seven. Then afterwards you can just take me back here and I’ll drive to my folks. I know it’s out of the way for me, but I don’t mind. It’ll give us some time to catch up.”

  “Then it’s a date!” Gail said. “See you Friday, at seven.”

  Gail stopped in her tracks. “I almost forgot,” she said. “My mom is a realtor in Munster. Maybe she can help you find an apartment. Here, I’ll write her number down for you. Do you have a business card?”