by Judith Mehl
She began moving again, creeping through the underbrush slowly in an attempt to make no sound. All her senses were alert for danger, as long as she could quell the panic.
Kat picked up another tree branch, the other discarded in her haste to flee. She heard footsteps to the right, squishing in the rain. Was it Nick? Carlos? What should she do? Nick called out, further to her right than the footsteps. Carlos must have heard also. He paused, turned. She bashed him across the back; her legs sliding from under her on the wet leaves. Carlos attacked her before she could escape.
Nick rushed forward and pulled Carlos off. Carlos punched; Nick dodged, swung, knuckles connecting.
Kat crawled out of the way, inching her back up a nearby tree trunk till she was standing. She shivered, holding the branch, not able to get a good aim on Carlos. Nick knocked him out as G. L., Raub, and Burrows converged on the scene, voices shouting, flashlights blazing. She slipped back to the ground, her shaky legs unstable.
As the men took charge of Carlos, Nick glanced quickly around, looking for her. The darkness couldn’t hide his relief at seeing her safe. He settled next to her, oblivious of the mud churned up from the fight and the driving rain. He’d thought he’d lost her. He rubbed an unsteady hand across his face to replace his calm mask and turned to pull her into his arms. His warmth dispelled her errant fears.
A half-hour later they were huddled in Burrows’ office, listening to Carlos bare his soul. His confession was essential to closing the investigation. Burrows had no proof without it to charge him with Professor Abbott’s murder. Kat had asked that he be allowed to explain before she charged him with assault. When he began by confessing to the murder she knew she wouldn’t bother.
Hunched in defeat, his voice faltering, Carlos described the scene with Charlie where he lost his temper that fateful night. Everyone sat silently, barely breathing, as he vividly painted the scene.
“I entered the lab to talk to him. He was so engrossed in his project that he didn’t even hear me at first. Or he was just so arrogant that he didn’t bother to look up and acknowledge me. His attitude fueled my anger. I’d been seething all day at what he’d done to my Maria.
“I wanted him to explain why he wouldn’t support her program so I could understand, or maybe say something that I could report to Maria that would make her feel better. But he wouldn’t listen. All that glass, sparking in the fluorescent lights, the tubes, the bottles, the flasks. A glass rod nearby reminded me of a giant twizzle stick. I dropped my duffel bag and grabbed the rod. I broke the tip by rapping it on the counter, finally catching his attention. I shouted, ‘These test tubes and vials are everything to you but they hold no life. See they don’t bleed. But they cause it. My Maria’s life force is draining out of her, drip, drip, like the blood flowing. You did that to her!’
“But Charlie glanced at me vaguely like I wasn’t really there, talking about something so important. I saw red, I really did. Like he was coated in it. I slashed at him with the rod. Didn’t touch him, just slashed in front of him. That woke him up, yet he turned away as if I wasn’t important enough to listen to, and when I slashed again it went through his calf. This time, the red starting dripping. I’m not sure what happened after that. I remember he turned back to look at me and I held the bleeding rod up in surprise. Now he was paying attention but I didn’t recall what I wanted to say. I was finally seeing blood on the glass. Wondering if maybe it did bleed after all. Charlie’s crystal life. He lunged at me then and I just stood there with the rod in front of me and he went down on it. I pushed and he fell on his back, breaking the rod off in my hand.”
Carlos jerked, his eyes focusing back in the room and away from the lab. He shuffled his feet as he sat, and continued his story.
“I ran. I was coming to my senses and grabbed some paper towels near the sink and wiped off the rod, then broke it into the sink. I was panicking quickly, but I remember seeing the student. I know it’s Robin now, but at the time I just saw that he was a student. As I was breaking up the glass to make it look like vandalism, I saw him with a girl through the window, jumping into the antique Chevy and knew I’d be able to find him again if needed. I noticed Kat on the way out, but wasn’t sure she’d seen me. Right then I couldn’t think. I eventually went home to Maria. She didn’t recognize me that day. That hurt more than anything.”
His hollow-eyed look, his demeanor, tore at Kat. Burrows, who had stretched all the rules to allow her and Nick in to hear this confession, could see her concern and motioned her to keep quiet. She nodded. She knew Burrows had many questions yet to be answered.
Carlos continued, explaining how his childhood experiences fueled his rage against abusers like Charlie. Burrows nodded, not wanting to disturb the flow of his thoughts. Carlos was revealing more with his free association than the detective could have acquired with dozens of questions. Any missing details could be filled in later after some simple questions.
Carlos said he hadn’t thought about his childhood in years, not until Maria needed his protection from Charlie. “When she finally needed me, I didn’t do anything. So Charlie continued to hinder her efforts with his narrow mind and his power. I was as angry with myself as I was with him when I finally decided to question him.”
Burrows scratched his chin in the interlude and finally directed Carlos to finish. “So why were you threatening Kat; why did you confront her tonight?”
Carlos looked apologetically at Kat. “I was afraid at first that she knew and was taunting me for some reason. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t just tell you she’d seen me and get it over with.”
Kat sighed in frustration, knowing she had just made matters worse by her prying. One raised eyebrow from Nick and a nod from Burrows kept her quiet, however.
Carlos explained, “I feared dismissal from the only thing I loved other than Maria. I became afraid that someone would find out about my pitiable past. I was constantly on edge.” He fidgeted, looking around for sympathy. Finding little, he continued, “I kept getting signs from Kat, suggestive notes, visits to Maria that led me to believe Kat was toying with me, tormenting me and Maria. She became a threat to Maria’s and my existence.”
Kat shuddered at the memory of that evening and what could have happened with Carlos unhinged by recent and past events. “It wasn’t till I saw you on the portico in your raincoat that I realized I had seen you the night of the murder.”
Carlos nodded, “But tonight you did remember. I was already upset. Maria had a relapse today. I didn’t know if she’d ever get well. I shouldn’t have come tonight. But once there, seeing everyone having such a good time, and then, realizing Kat remembered me—I just wanted it all to end.”
Burrows questioned him further, trying to gain explanation for incidents that weren’t clear. “What was the car chase all about?”
“At first I just wanted to scare them. Then, after you all went to the police station, I followed. When you left and the police didn’t come after me I felt I might be clear. No one must have recognized me, in the woods, or earlier.”
Kat ventured a question that had tormented her since the incident. “Did you attack Suzanne? Why?”
“Again, it seemed like you were baiting me. That you knew that I’d killed Charlie, but wouldn’t tell the police, leaving me hanging. I wanted it over. I wanted you to stop. Suzanne looked like you in the dark, in the rain.”
Epilogue
Over three hundred years before the Christian Era, Aristotle observed: “Spoken words are the symbols of mental experience, and written words are symbols of spoken words. Just as all men have not the same speech sounds, so all men have not the same writing.”
“Handwriting: A Key to Personality” by Klara Roman
Nick and Kat left Burrows’ office and headed down the sidewalk. He put his arm around her, settled her head on his shoulder. Tie askew, coat slung over his shoulder, his appearance echoed his surface calm, not the maelstrom within.
“Can we drive by Herit
age Hall?”
Nick eyed her suspiciously, the request seeming a little strange considering the late hour. He hedged. “It’s late; you’re still slimed from the woods and must be tired. Don’t you just want to head home?”
“It’s almost on the way,” she pleaded, looking wistful and tired. He didn’t need her explanation to convince him he’d do whatever she asked, but he let her continue talking as they walked to the car.
“It’s a peaceful place for me and reminds me of why I work at the university. I always find strength in the steeple. Don’t you just love it? Especially at night?”
Nick admitted giving it little thought until now.
She explained the personal symbolism. “It’s a beacon to redirect my thinking at times. I need the solace of just sitting there for a few minutes tonight.”
He conceded, “Actually, it’s an excellent choice. It’s where it all began.” He unlocked the car doors and settled her inside. She didn’t question him on what he meant. When he started up the car and turned on the heater she was reminded she wanted to ask him about the car.
“What happened to your Austin Healy? I meant to ask earlier. You still have it don’t you?”
“Sure, we never part for long. This is a loaner from G. L.’s business. We have a loose partnership at the moment. We’ll finalize after Ludlow finds a replacement. I’ll ask him to step up the search now that this mess with Carlos is over.”
They parked in front of Heritage Hall as he finished dropping that bombshell so nonchalantly.
“You’re staying around here? Permanently?”
He nodded, wishing he could see her face in the darkened car. Was she happy about that, or merely surprised?
They wandered around the grassy area near Heritage Hall, the lighted steeple highlighted in stark contrast to the deep blue sky now that the rain had subsided. They discussed the murder, and the subsequent actions of Carlos.
Kat agonized over the inability to pin down the murderer through the handwriting analysis. He talked her through her concerns; reminding her of her own words, that analysis can show tendencies but evidence must be found to arrest someone for murder.
“I know. You’re right. And we did eliminate a lot of suspects and showed that Carlos was the one to watch. It was the evidence that was conflicting. Maybe I wouldn’t have pressed him so much if his writing had been different.”
She stood still, staring at the beacon, seeking confidence. “For now, it’s resolved. I guess I can accept that handwriting analysis brought us a long way to the right suspects. Maybe I need to try some graphotherapy myself, to change my thinking.”
“Nick smiled, thinking of assimilating her handwriting analysis in the future with his detective work. He walked with her, holding her hand and turning the conversation to insubstantial things—anything to help her wind down. They ended near the parking lot and turned for one last look at the steeple.
“It all began here when I leapt into your car that night.” She tightened her hold on his hand while she turned to face him, wanting to ask, “What began.” His wince at the firmer grip startled her and she studied his hands in the moonlight, finally seeing the scraped and bloody skin on his fingers from his struggle with Carl.
“Nick, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were injured. Let’s go home and I’ll bandage your hands.”
“Kiss me and make it better.”
“That’s not quite how it goes.”
“It works for me.” Nick tangled his fist in her hair gently, the scraped knuckles forgotten. She kissed him with all her pent up feelings.
“Did that help?”
“Not quite enough. Marry me and make it better.”
Startled, Kat tilted her head to look into his eyes, knowing what she wanted to say but fearful.
“You don’t know much about me.”
She looked down at her ruined shoes. “You don’t have a clue how many shoes I own. What if you couldn’t handle my style?”
Glancing down at her mucky shoes, gathered up at the end of the fight in the park, Nick said. “Someone like you needs a lot of shoes. And all of your styles fit me fine.”
“Oh, Nick!” Kat kissed him again, weaving her fingers through his luxuriant hair, holding tight. When Nick came up for air he murmured, “I guess that’s a yes. Works better than any herbal salve, too.”