The Monolith Murders

by Lorne L. Bentley

  Fred’s contact was a middle-aged woman who all her life had been taught not to worry about her appearance. Her one-piece dress was draped well beyond her knees and she was adorned in a white see-through bonnet cap. Fred could not detect a hint of makeup on her.

  “Ma’am, Detective Grimes told me you might be able to identify this person.” Fred showed her a picture taken of Donna about four years earlier.

  “Yes, the person I knew looked very much like her; but she was one of us and always wore a long solid black dress and black stockings. This woman has on bright colorful clothes and her dress is—well, just let me say that no one in this community would even think about wearing such a thing.”

  “You wouldn’t have a picture of her, by any chance?” Fred asked.

  “Oh no, she was a neighbor, she lived a couple of houses down the street.”

  “Did she live by herself?”

  “No she lived with her sister until—well, until the killing.”

  “Killing? What killing?”

  “Well, you should know, you’re a policeman; I’m talking about the gruesome murder of Amy Brown’s sister.”

  “Amy Brown?”

  “Yes, that’s the girl that looked like the person in the photo that you showed me.”

  Fred remembered the case well. He had been out of town when it happened. He wasn’t the investigating officer, but he recalled that a young girl had been decapitated. Amy Brown claimed that she was hiding in the closet when the murder occurred, and that as a result she really had seen very little. She claimed that an intruder had broken in and stole all of the money that they had recently inherited from their aunt. Both sisters had agreed not to put their sizable inheritance into the bank, but to keep it in a shelf above a large closet in the house.

  Amy Brown was never considered a suspect since she displayed such authentic grief towards the death of her sister and was so deeply religious, a fact confirmed by all of her nearby neighbors. She claimed that she only had the benefit of a transitional glance at the murderer just before she was able hide in a bedroom closet and escape. The case had never been solved.

  “Do you recall if either of Miss Brown’s parents is still alive?”

  “I have no idea; but back then her parents lived in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, as I recall.”

  “Were they Amish as well?”

  “Yes, they were.”

  Fred returned to the station and pulled the files on the Brown murder. There was nothing in the file that he didn’t already remember, but he found a single photograph of Amy Brown. Fred was now positive that Amy Brown and Donna Lang were one and the same!

  * * *

  For the third day in a row, Fred felt sick to his stomach. Today was worse than yesterday. When he got out of bed, he almost fell over from a sudden spell of vertigo. When he checked his weight on his bathroom scale, he was shocked that he had lost four unintended pounds.

  As he entered the chief’s office, Jim immediately noticed Fred’s pallid complexion.

  “Fred, what the hell’s the matter with you? You look terrible, like your life’s blood has been sucked out of you.”

  “I’m not sure, Jim. I guess it’s a virus of some type that I can’t get rid of. My stomach aches like crazy and now I seem to be dizzy all the time. I even had a couple of severe nosebleeds during the last two days. None of the over the counter medicines seem to work for me.”

  “You know, Fred, your symptoms are a lot like that guy who came into see us last year because he thought he was being poisoned. It turned out that he was correct.”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember. As I recall the poison was cyanide. His wife put a small amount in his milk each morning. With that small a dose he couldn’t taste it but it had accumulated in his system. He eventually died from it. Over the length of time he had consumed it, it had permeated all of his vital organs; and it was too late for the doctors to do anything for him after it was discovered in his system.”

  “Well, Fred, he had some of the same general symptoms and look as you do now.”

  “What are you saying, Jim, that I’m being poisoned by Maureen?”

  Jim paused. “No, of course not—but is it possible that Donna might have gotten into your food supply somehow?”

  “Come on, Jim, that’s too far out.”

  “Fred, why don’t you see your friend Dr. John? He’s an excellent physician and I’m sure he can diagnose your problem right away.”

  That afternoon Fred was awaiting the results of a blood test that Dr. John had ordered.

  Dr. John walked slowly into the examination room. Since Fred had last seen him, the doctor’s full black beard had been gradually eclipsed by emerging white strands.

  Fred sat in a chair next to the examining table. As was his habit when he was anxious, his left foot was exhibiting a constant up and down motion as he awaited the results of his medical tests.

  “Well, Doctor, what’s the verdict? Please tell me that I’m not being poisoned.” Fred released a nervous laugh.

  Dr. John softly put his hand on Fred’s shoulder. “I wish I could tell you that, Fred, but I can’t. You have a significant amount of poison in your system.”

  Fred was bewildered. “Good Lord! Uh, I’m not going to die, am I?”

  For one of the few times in his life the talkative Dr. John said nothing.

  Chapter 22

  At that same moment Donna and Polish were again getting hot and heavy in front of Dr. Anderson, who made no attempt to suppress his total disgust as he watched from his position on the sofa.

  At that moment they heard the sound of police sirens in the distance. “Damn,” Polish said. “We have to get away, somehow they’ve discovered where we are.”

  “It’s too late,” she said. “They’ll be here before we even get to the car. Where did you screw up?”

  “Me?? I’m not the one prancing around the damn world for everyone to see. They probably traced you back here. I’ve either been here or at work, so don’t you try to blame this on me!”

  At that moment the sirens reached their highest pitch. A few seconds later, just after the police cars reached the entrance to the trailer park, the sounds started to fade. The occupants of the trailer now knew that the cops were not coming to their location. Donna and her lover smiled in relief.

  None of the trailer’s occupants knew that ten miles down the same highway, a local real estate agent had found out that a prime piece of land was going to be released from probate and would soon be available for development. That agent contacted a developer who had visions of putting up a hundred or so homes in the area, constructing a guard house, and building a continuous stucco cement wall all around what was to become his prized gated community.

  As the two men had been inspecting the property, they noticed an area in which Jane’s body had been carelessly buried. The spot had recently been covered with fresh dirt. The men, sensing something was not right, had called the police. The first cop who went to the site uncovered the body and called for backup help. In a few short minutes, the newly arrived cops would know that Jane Doe had been murdered. But that knowledge wouldn’t help at all in their attempt to determine where Donna was hiding, even though they had just passed within fifty feet of the trailer in which she was residing.

  Chapter 23

  Fred was clearly concerned. “Doc, what’s in that needle?”

  Dr. John said, “I’m going to inject you with a significant amount of warfarin which hopefully will start to immediately counteract the effect of the copious amount of coumadin that you’ve somehow ingested.”

  “Wait a minute, Doc. I’ve never taken coumadin in my life.”

  “Well, Fred, somehow it got into your system. And I suspect, based on the length of time that you’ve had symptoms, it wasn’t just from one dose.”

  “What’s the effect of too much coumadin?”

  “If it’s not reversed quickly, you will bleed to death. It’s commonly referred to as a blood thinner, but it doesn�
�t really change the viscosity of blood. It simply reduces the quantity of the selective proteins in the liver that influence blood clotting. I use it in my practice to dissolve blood clots. It’s also used in rat poison. But under no circumstances would I ever prescribe the level that you presently have in your system. Have you had any nosebleeds recently?”

  “Yes, severe ones.”

  “That’s also a clear sign of the overdose.”

  “But I know I never took the stuff; so how in hell could it have gotten into my system?”

  “It’s taken orally. Your overdose was either by accident or design.”

  “Well, it wasn’t my design; and I know damn well that I didn’t take it accidentally.”

  “Fred, it appears to me that someone’s trying to kill you. I would suggest, before you ingest anything at all that you have at your house, that you have all your food and drinks checked for the presence of coumadin.”

  “But Maureen has been fine.”

  “Then it must be something that you’ve consumed but she hasn’t, because humans have no natural defense for coumadin consumed in large quantities. If she were also taking it, she would be as sick as you are.”

  * * *

  On the way home, Fred mentally filtered through all the food and drinks that he and Maureen had consumed during the past week, trying to isolate those products that Maureen either did not consume or had consumed in very small amounts. They generally ate the same food in only slightly different portions, but Fred realized that he was the only one to drink regular coffee and orange juice. He only consumed coffee in the presence of Maureen; and since she had been with him for breakfast only one day this past week, his coffee input had been intentionally limited. However, he routinely had one small glass of orange juice each morning. Maureen had problems with the acidic taste of all citrus fruits, so she never consumed the drink.

  Fred contacted the police medical unit to conduct an analysis of the content of the orange juice in his refrigerator. The results came back right away. The juice was saturated with coumadin.

  Jim said, “I suggest we check out all the other food products in your home as well, Fred. Knowing Donna, she might have contaminated more than one food source, hoping that when you found it in the orange juice, you would believe that you wouldn’t need to check further.”

  Fred said, “I have to agree with your logic, Jim. I’ll make sure every food product in our house is checked out.”

  “Fred, when did you purchase this juice?”

  “About a week ago; Maureen bought the orange juice at the local supermarket. Obviously, the poison had to have been introduced sometime after it was in our house.”

  “The next question, Fred, is how did Donna get into your house?”

  “I don’t see how she could have, we had a police guard at the house the entire week; and I also have a fairly good security system in place. We’ve had no indication of any tampering or break-ins. With Donna’s past use of surrogates to do her dirty work, the other question I have to ask myself is—who’s been in my house the last week or so?”

  “Good point, Fred, and who has been?”

  “Let’s see—there was the pizza delivery man, Maureen and I have pizza once every week; the air conditioning repair man came during the week to check out our system; and, of course, Patrolman Stewart was there all this week for security purposes.”

  “Would any of them have entered or had access to your kitchen?”

  “All of them, the pizza man delivers via our back door, which enters into the kitchen. The air conditioning man worked on our faulty thermostat, which is located next to the café doors to the kitchen. And the patrolman has coffee and donuts in the kitchen every morning.”

  Jim said, “None of them sounds like the usual suspect. However, get me the names of the air conditioning repair man and the pizza delivery man, and I’ll bring them in for questioning. I think we can bypass Patrolman Stewart in the investigation, at least for the moment.”

  Fred said, “I’ll make the arrangements.”

  His first call was to the Fast Fix Air Conditioning Company. Curt Ryan, who had serviced Fred’s home, agreed to go to the station on his way home from work. Fred refused to provide Ryan with any information, except to say he needed his help in a police investigation. Fred’s next call was to the pizza shop located a few blocks from his house. Fred recalled the young man who delivered to their home that week was named Rudy. When he asked for Rudy, the manager said, “I have no idea where he is.”

  “What do you mean, he shows up for work, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s a full time college student, but he’s also a part time pizza delivery man who works for us only in the evenings. He hasn’t shown up for work for the past two days. As far as I’m concerned, he’s no longer working for us. College kids come and go; I suspect he got a nice fat check from his parents and he no longer needs the work. When the money runs out, he most likely will be on our doorstep looking for work again and I guess I’ll probably hire him again. He’s a good worker.”

  “Do you have his phone number and address?”

  The manager provided Fred with the requested data. After several phone calls with no answer, Fred decided to visit Rudy’s home address.

  He called Jim to give him a briefing. Fred was surprised when Jim said he wanted to join Fred in the inspection of Rudy’s living quarters. Fred got there first. On the street in front of the house was a rusty 1980 Honda with make love not war decals plastered all over the back bumper. At the side of the house was an empty bike rack. A couple of minutes later Jim met Fred on the front steps of the sprawling pale-yellow ranch house. When they knocked on the door, they were greeted by an elderly man who possessed a heavy waxed white mustache curled down and around his lips. He looked to be the perfect candidate for an old time beer ad, Fred thought. Fred showed the man his badge and explained that he wanted to see Rudy to obtain his help with their investigation.

  “It’s nothing serious you, understand.” Jim added. As Jim was speaking the man glanced at him with a peculiar expression. As they entered the living room, Fred felt he was suddenly thrown back into an earlier era. None of the furnishings were contemporary, and most displayed years of heavy wear. In a few cases there was an unsuccessful effort to repair some of the more dilapidated furniture pieces.

  The man said, “Rudy is overdue with his monthly rent and he hasn’t contacted me for the past few days. In fact, I was just getting ready to put his stuff out on the street.”

  That’s good, Fred thought. Since the room has reverted to the homeowner’s control, he and Jim didn’t have to get a warrant to search the place; they just needed the homeowner’s permission.

  Rudy’s quarters consisted of a large one room efficiency apartment. There was a small kitchen area squeezed in one end of the room. It consisted of a tiny stove and a camper-sized refrigerator. A trailer-sized sink was wedged in between the two. Above were two cabinets containing an assortment of dishes from different sets. There was no bathroom; Fred assumed that Rudy used the nearby one in the hall.

  The owners had obviously built the rental unit for extra income. This was a residential zoned area and Fred suspected that the owners did not get permission from the county to rent part of their house out. He also suspected the income had never been reported to the feds. He was not concerned about that small a violation; he only hoped that Jim would not pursue it either, since more important issues prevailed.

  Fred opened Rudy’s clothes closet. Rudy’s wardrobe was the standard outfit for a college student; jeans and colored tee shirts dominated the hangers. On the shelf above was a stack of neatly piled college textbooks. The bed was neatly made up. A light gray-lined maroon jacket rested on the black spread.

  Fred went through the dresser drawers. Underneath Rudy’s socks and underwear was a bank book. A deposit of four thousand dollars had been made in late November. An annotation was made: “from Dad for college tuition.” Small deposits of varying amounts had been
made at other times during the year; Fred assumed they were from Rudy’s pizza delivery income. But a deposit of ten thousand dollars had been made five days ago. There was no annotation.

  Jim said, “Well, Mr. Detective, what do you make out of all this?”

  “Well,” said Fred, “First I assume that Rudy disappeared during daylight hours; my best guess is between ten in the morning and mid afternoon. Most likely he disappeared at or around his college. He never returned home for his pizza delivery job. His college is nearby. And by the way, he’s the man who attempted to poison me and perhaps Maureen as well.”

  “How did you possibly come up with all of that based on what little evidence is in this room?”

  “During this time of the year, the evenings and early morning are light jacket weather. His jacket was on the bed. By 10 a.m. the mornings warm up considerably, so I’m assuming he has late morning or early afternoon classes. His car is parked directly outside; no way would the homeowners own that car with the category of messages that appear on its back bumper stickers. His bike rack is empty, so he obviously took his bike to class. Had he returned from classes and left for his job, he would have taken his jacket with him to cope with the cooler evening weather. And, of course, the bike rack wouldn’t have been empty.”

  “OK, but how do you know that he tried to murder you and Maureen?”

  “I’m not sure that he attempted to murder us both or just me—not enough evidence yet for that determination. But his father paid for his spring tuition about a month or so ago. It was clearly annotated that the large sum came from his father. About five days ago he had deposited a large amount of money with no annotation. It’s an educated guess, but I’m sure that was his payoff money. Jim, lets talk to the pizza owner and see if we can find out more about Rudy.”