Sullivan's Law

by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

  “Make yourself comfortable in Lucy’s room, Rebecca. That’s where the DVD player is anyway. If you have trouble working anything, call me on the intercom.” He turned and peered into Carolyn’s weary eyes. “When you finish whatever you need to do, take some of your own advice. You know, get some sleep. Your daughter will be safe here. Don’t come back until six. And bring John with you. Isobel will make us all a nice meal. We can postpone our dinner out until next weekend. By then, perhaps all this will be behind you.”

  Carolyn watched as Rebecca hobbled down the hallway to Lucy’s bedroom on her crutches. Paul was standing next to her now and she could smell his aftershave, something musky and masculine. There was also a unique calmness about him, a comforting contrast to the frenzied pace of the last few days. As the light struck his face, she noticed how beautiful his eyes were—a pale shade of blue. Today he was wearing his reading glasses. Instead of detracting from his appearance, they made his eyes more noticeable and gave him a distinguished look. No, she corrected herself, this was a man who didn’t need to look distinguished. He was distinguished.

  Then another thought passed through Carolyn’s mind. John was one of the few teenage boys who actually prayed. They didn’t talk about it much, but he’d mounted his rosary on a hook over his desk. Had he been praying for his mother to fall in love with their new neighbor? Of course, John’s aspirations to become a physicist may have led him to seek any help available.

  More important reasons could also exist. Her son might want his mother to establish a relationship with the professor beyond obtaining a recommendation to MIT. Her former husband had virtually abandoned his children. In many ways, Frank’s absence in John and Rebecca’s life was a blessing. To think that her son longed for male companionship and guidance, however, was troubling. On the other hand, the solution might be standing right in front of her.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” Carolyn said, a slight flutter in her voice.

  “I’m beginning to feel like we’re family,” Paul said, smiling. “It’s kind of nice. When I’m teaching, there’re more people around. Writing a book is a solitary task.” He stopped speaking, then added, “About this man’s design for an exoskeleton…”

  “I guess I’ll see you at dinner then,” Carolyn said, smiling pleasantly. “I can take the papers back if you’re too busy to look at them.”

  “No,” he said, scowling. “I’d like to know whose work I’m evaluating.”

  “I’ll call and check on Rebecca in a few hours.”

  “Sleep,” Paul said, his tone more of a command than a suggestion. “You look dead on your feet.”

  “I promise I’ll use the time wisely.”

  Carolyn glanced over her shoulder at him as she walked out the door. A physicist of Paul Leighton’s caliber might be intriguing, but she sensed he could also be controlling. She’d rather have a clandestine affair with Brad than end up as a constant in one of the professor’s social equations.

  Chapter 17

  “I guess I’ll have to reassign the Sandoval shooting,” Brad Preston said, leaning back in the black leather chair behind his desk. “This thing last night doesn’t make sense, Carolyn. Your parolee was in the hospital, so why would someone try to run you off the road? Are you sure this wasn’t a couple of crazy teenagers? Maybe they wanted to race you.”

  “In a rented Camry?”

  Brad flashed a smile. “Never know.”

  “This isn’t a game, asshole.”

  Brad’s assistant, Rachel, had taken the day off, so they knew they wouldn’t be interrupted. They were killing time, waiting for Hank Sawyer to call. He sat upright. “Yesterday, you said I was a fantastic lover. Today I’m back to being an asshole. Why don’t we compromise and consider ourselves friends? If that doesn’t work, try remembering every now and then that I’m your supervisor.”

  “I get mad when you don’t take me seriously.” Reclining on the small sofa in his office, Carolyn was wearing black slacks and a blue cotton top. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. Before taking Rebecca to the professor’s, she’d darted into her house and changed clothes, then grabbed a clean shirt and pants for her daughter. “I figured out why you pulled me into the men’s rest room the other day.”

  “Oh you did, huh?” Brad said, a mischievous look in his eyes.

  “I’d look like an idiot if I tried to report you for sexual harassment,” Carolyn told him, extending one of her legs in the air. “You could claim you were going about your business when I barged into the men’s room and tried to entice you to have sex with me. We didn’t have intercourse, so you didn’t do anything out of order.”

  “Forget about the other day, okay?” Brad said, eager to change the subject. “About last night—”

  “Think about it,” Carolyn said. “Daniel Metroix was in jail when they smashed my car and left the threatening note. And these weren’t kids trying to run me off the road last night. I’m almost certain they intended to shoot me like they did Metroix.”

  “Did you see a gun?”

  “I’m not really sure,” Carolyn answered. “Only seconds before I managed to turn off the road, the passenger in the Corvette rolled down the window. I remember seeing something protruding. It was dark, though. When you’re traveling almost a hundred miles an hour in a residential neighborhood, you don’t have a lot of time to do anything other than drive.”

  “That’s too bad about Rebecca’s ankle,” Brad said. “She’s a sweet kid.”

  “Yeah,” Carolyn said, sitting up. “You don’t have to reassign the Sandoval case. I dictated the report yesterday. All that’s left is to proofread it and submit. Don’t give me anything new, though.”

  Brad rubbed the side of his neck. “We’re up to our eyeballs right now. The stress is killing me. I think I’ve got another herniated disk. This thing with Eddie Downly has the whole city in an uproar.”

  “I’d die if something happened to my children,” Carolyn told him. “This is too close to home. I’m scared, Brad.”

  The call they’d been waiting for finally came through. Brad punched the button for the speaker phone, tossing his feet on top of the desk.

  “Charles Harrison is dead,” Hank told them. “I just left Arden Brothers Funeral Home. They claim he was cremated early this morning.”

  “When did he die?” Carolyn asked, moving closer in order to hear better.

  “Last night,” Hank said in his gravel voice.

  “Great,” Brad said. “Now it’s too late to do an autopsy.”

  “Don’t you know how it works?” the detective asked, his tone bordering on sarcasm. “Because Harrison was under a doctor’s care, all his housekeeper did was call the funeral home to pick up the body. I guess you guys in probation don’t handle deaths.”

  “Only murders,” Brad said, placing his palms on the desk.

  “By law,” the detective continued, “no one outside of the funeral home is required to even see the body. The death certificate hasn’t been signed yet. The mortuary is sending one of their people over to Harrison’s doctor’s office sometime this morning.”

  Carolyn and Brad exchanged tense looks. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It placed her speculations about the former police chief in a new light. “Charles Harrison is really dead?”

  “That’s what they say,” Hank replied. “Sounds a tad too convenient, if you ask me. Metroix is shot around two yesterday. Then, last night, someone comes after his parole officer. Metroix survives…Carolyn escapes. And don’t forget the explosion at the Seagull. These people are batting zero.”

  Carolyn placed a hand over her chest. “Are you implying that Harrison could have faked his own death?”

  “I might fake my death too if I’d hired some goons and they botched things up this bad, leaving me wide open to take the heat.” He stopped to take a breath. “I’m certain Harrison was a sick man, okay. In reality, his health problems would give him even more of a reason to stage his own demise. Who wants to
spend their last days in a cell?”

  “Let’s backtrack a minute,” Carolyn said, trying to get all the facts straight. “Even when they cremate someone, isn’t there a way to identify them? We need a positive ID, Hank.”

  “Arden Brothers is a first-rate joint,” he said. “Mrs. Harrison is in a mental hospital. She probably wouldn’t have been able to attend her husband’s funeral even if he’d planned on having one. Do you think the hospital wants Arden Brothers to mail the poor woman her husband’s ashes?”

  “What’s the point, Hank?”

  “They got rid of them,” he said. “Most people don’t want the ashes, or at least that’s what Anthony Arden told me. They used to dump them in a bin out back. Now they have an arrangement with Ivy Lawn cemetery. They send whatever remains they have on hand to the cemetery and they bury them in a common grave. This morning happened to be their regular day to clean house. Morticians even have their own vocabulary. They refer to what’s left as cremains.”

  Carolyn recalled reading something in the newspaper. “Wasn’t there a lawsuit several years ago about this type of thing?”

  “You guys still don’t understand,” Hank told them, becoming even more agitated. “The case you’re talking about was a company that promised to scatter the remains at sea. I don’t think they owned a boat or even a crematorium. They had bodies stashed all over the place. Arden Brothers didn’t do anything wrong. When no one claims the cremains, and no specific arrangements have been made for some type of vault, urn, or any kind of service, the funeral home burns them and buries them in the common grave.”

  “Seems like a good way to get away with murder,” Carolyn tossed out. “What about his teeth?”

  “If you want to fish through that stuff and see if you can find a bridge or something that didn’t disintegrate, be my guest. Our best bet is to try to track Harrison through doctors and hospitals. He’ll need medical treatment if he’s alive.”

  “Why would he give his real name?” Carolyn asked, walking around the room. “Harrison was a deputy chief. He wouldn’t be that stupid. He’s either left the state or he’s holed up somewhere in L.A. under an assumed name. You can certainly have your department check various doctors and hospitals. Personally, I think it’s a waste of time.”

  “Let’s say Harrison did die.” Brad’s expression hinted that he thought the situation might be as it appeared. “For all we know, he had nothing to do with the recent events. That means we have to consider other suspects. Did you come up with anything on either the Corvette or the SUV?”

  “Not yet,” Hank said. “We’re running the partial plate the woman witness gave us every way possible. Knowing the make of the car would have helped, know what I mean?”

  “Both of the cars were probably stolen,” Carolyn told him, flicking the ends of her fingernails. “My bet is they’ve already dumped them. Are your people checking abandoned vehicles?”

  “Sure,” the detective said. “You know how many vehicles are abandoned every year in this city? And what makes you think they ditched the cars in Ventura? Not only that, people who kill for money know the ropes. They leave cars in supermarket parking lots where weeks or even months can pass before anyone notices them. Either that, or they sell them to salvage yards. Those guys don’t report half of the vehicles they strip. There’s too much profit in stolen auto parts.”

  “We may never catch these guys,” Brad said. “Isn’t that what you’re trying to tell us, Hank?”

  “More or less.”

  “What about Daniel?” Carolyn asked. “Has anyone spoken to him?”

  “No,” Hank said. “White said he’s been out cold all morning. I plan to go over there myself this afternoon.”

  “Well,” Brad said, standing and stretching, “our agency has done all we can.”

  Carolyn sat down on the sofa. “Why was I a target to begin with? I understand about Daniel.” Her voice elevated with excitement. “There’re two men whose lives could be destroyed if the truth ever comes out about Tim Harrison. And since I’m the only one who’s been trying to get the case reopened, getting rid of me would put an end to their problems.” She raised her arm in the direction of her supervisor. “Look how you’re acting, Brad,” she said. “You think Daniel and I are no longer in danger, that we should forget about everything that’s happened. Even if you remove Daniel and Harrison from the picture, it doesn’t change the fact that someone may have tried to kill me on two separate occasions.”

  “Calm down,” Brad said. “Anyway, you’ve lost me as to the two other men.”

  “You haven’t lost me,” Hank’s voice boomed over the speaker phone. “Guess it’s time we paid a visit to Liam Armstrong and Nolan Houston. Can we even prosecute these men, though? The statute of limitations on perjury expired years ago.”

  “Perjury was the least of their crimes,” Carolyn told him. “I wouldn’t worry about the statute of limitations. We’re talking murder, Hank.”

  “How do you get to murder?” the detective asked. “From what I know about the original crime, the Harrison boy’s death may have been an accident.”

  “Daniel Metroix went to prison for second degree murder,” Carolyn said, feeling certain they were on the right track. “If either Houston or Armstrong shoved Tim Harrison in front of that car, then they can be prosecuted for the same crime. There’s no statute of limitations on murder. Don’t you see? We’ve been coming at this from the wrong direction.”

  The line fell silent, then, a few moments later, Hank began speaking again. “You might be right, Carolyn. You know what happens when you start looking under rocks.”

  “I’ve already tracked down Houston and Armstrong,” she said, speaking rapidly. “Just their businesses, though. Their home numbers are unlisted, and I didn’t have time to trace them. I want to be with you when you see them. It’s harder to kill someone once you look them in the eye.”

  “I don’t want to interview them at their homes,” Hank told her. “It’s doubtful if they’ll tell us anything worthwhile with their wives and children around. Let’s call it for today, and plan to pay Armstrong and Houston a visit Monday. Meet me at the PD around eight o’clock.”

  Carolyn left Brad’s office to get the information she’d compiled on the two men so she could go directly from her home.

  “Smart lady,” Hank told her supervisor. “We could use a few like her at the PD. You’re going to miss her when she gets her law degree.”

  “Let’s hope she lives long enough,” Brad Preston said, punching a button on the speaker phone to end the call.

  Chapter 18

  Arriving at her house at two-fifteen Friday afternoon, Carolyn staggered down the hall and fell face first on her bed. Knowing her children were safe, she could relax. Paul Leighton had been right. If she didn’t get some sleep, she was going to end up hospitalized for exhaustion.

  She awoke when she heard her son’s voice.

  “Where’s Rebecca?” John asked, standing over his mother’s bed. “I tried to call you about thirty minutes ago. No one answered the phone.”

  “I guess I didn’t hear it,” Carolyn said, feeling as if her eyes were glued together. She reached over and grabbed the clock on the end table, seeing that it was almost five o’clock. “Rebecca’s at Paul’s house. I had some important things to take care of at the office.”

  John placed his hands on his hips. “What’s more important than your kid? She breaks her ankle. She gets the crap scared out of her, and you run off and leave her with Paul. The man’s trying to write a book. He’s not running a babysitting service.”

  Carolyn sat up on the edge of the bed, a sharp tone to her voice. “Are you criticizing me again?”

  “All these terrible things have been happening,” the boy explained, punching the air for emphasis. “You make demands on me. Why can’t I say anything when you—”

  “Stop right there,” Carolyn told him. “I don’t want to get into another argument. We’re having dinner at the pro
fessor’s house tonight. I thought you’d be pleased.”

  Her son’s frustrations seemed to vanish. “Really?” he asked. “How did that come about?”

  Carolyn felt disgusting. She scratched her head. She hadn’t washed her hair in several days, and she even caught a whiff of body odor. In her rush to get out of the house that morning, she’d forgotten to put on deodorant.

  “Like most things,” she told him. “He asked and I accepted. I need to get cleaned up. I suggest you do the same.” She paused and then added, “Play your cards right and you might get a recommendation to MIT. Your judgment is pretty good when it comes to men. I like this one.”

  “Wow,” John said, turning around in a small circle, his eyes bright with excitement. He started to dash out of the room, then stopped. “What should I wear? What are you wearing?”

  “I can’t believe you’re concerned about your clothes,” his mother said, although she was wondering the same thing. “I’m sure as long as we’re clean, we’ll be acceptable. Wear jeans and something other than a tank top.”

  “This is so great,” John said, placing his hand on his head. “I have so many things I want to ask him.”

  “So do I,” Carolyn said, hoping the professor could give her some answers regarding Daniel’s work. “We’re supposed to be there at six. I suggest we get moving. The first shower is mine. I’ll try not to use up all the hot water.”

  “I already showered at Turner’s this morning,” John said, grinning sheepishly. “Take as much time as you need. You want to look pretty, don’t you?”

  Carolyn walked over and threw her arms around his neck. “Don’t get too carried away about me and this man. Because I find him interesting doesn’t mean he feels the same. Nothing may come of it.” She didn’t want to take away John’s happiness by telling him that Paul might be too demanding for her. His friendly demeanor could mask a number of unpleasant traits. “Your professor friend may not be in the market for a girlfriend, anyway.”