Fit To Curve (An Ellen and Geoffrey Fletcher Mystery Book 1)

by Bud Crawford

  Clean up. Go to sleep. Rise early. Solve this fucker before it either blows up or crawls under a rock..

  chapter forty-third — monday

  Geoff woke and sat up. and instantly regretted the sudden movement. It yanked on the IV in his right arm (why had he let them use his right arm?) and sent a spasm of agonizing pain shooting down from his neck. Other than that, surprisingly, he felt good. Very, very hungry. He started picking at the tape holding the IV needle.

  "Just a damn minute, mister!" Ellen had not moved, except to open one eye, curled up under a too-thin blanket in the too-short chair on the far side of the bed. "We have a deal with Doctor Ward."

  "I was in no fit state yesterday to consent to any deal," he continued to pick.

  Ellen stood, stretching her arms high overhead. She walked around the bed and took Geoff's right arm and pressed the tape down against his skin. "I could remind you what power-of-attorney means, or I could just press my finger on your neck, right about here."

  "Don't you have to pee?" Geoff asked. "I sure do, all these fluids all night, no relief."

  "I do, now you mention it. The minute I get a nurse in here to watch you, I will." She reached across the bed and pressed the call button. She stood beside him, arms crossed on her chest looking sternly down.

  "You are unusually beautiful, this morning, my lover lady. Unkempt becomes you."

  Ellen snorted. "Everything looks good to you this morning, because you're alive and you're not supposed to be."

  "I swear," Geoff said, "you'd look beautiful even if I was dead; mourning also would become you, too." He pressed the button to raise the bed and pushed himself higher. "You can't tell me I haven't earned a kiss yet." He raised his left hand and beckoned her closer.

  Ellen took a step towards the bed, then stopped and turned towards the door.

  "Top of the morning, dear hearts," said Honoria. Stephanie stood beside her in the doorway. "We'd best get out of the hall, we're a bit early for visiting, especially for a 'critical' patient."

  "It's good to see you both," Ellen said, "but how did you get past the guards."

  Honoria smiled at her. "My usual blend of harmlessness and authority. Geoffrey, I am very glad to see you looking alert and strong, though that bruise shows through the gown." She reached towards him, and lifted the gown a little off his neck.

  "I'm better than I look, thanks, Honoria." Geoff said. "Was there a policeman visible? Sprague was going to leave somebody. Dwight's room is just down the hall."

  "We waved to Jerry, Dwight seemed to be sleeping." Honoria said. "No, we didn't see a policeman."

  "Ah, but now you do, ma'am." Jenny Apple stood in the doorway. "A shift change, just this minute effected in the lobby. You should not be here, ladies. You should not have been able to get here."

  Honoria smiled at her. "Officer Apple, good morning. Geoffrey's first wife and his grandmother were understandably anxious to see him."

  "That would be more plausible after ten, during visiting hours. It's not quite eight. The hospital rules kind of reinforce my instructions." Apple was more amused than troubled. "How did you manage, if I may ask?"

  Honoria said, "Secret hand signs, Officer, that I may not reveal."

  "Excuse me, but who are all of you?" A nurse carrying a laptop was behind Apple in the doorway. I'm afraid you must all leave, right now."

  "Of course we shall, my dear," said Honoria. "We have found out what we needed. I shall record a three minutes forty-four second response to a call from a critically ill patient. I'm sure this will not be a problem. Come, Stephanie, help me down the hall."

  "Stef," Geoff said. "Can you go with us to Charlotte, in about an hour?"

  "Yeah, I guess I can. But are you crazy? I'm just asking." Stephanie held Honoria's right elbow.

  "Please, everybody, leave right now, I don't want to have to explain this to Dr. Ward or my supervisor. I'd have to understand it first, and I don't think I want to." The nurse set the laptop on the counter beside the sink and pulled at her apron.

  "Yes," said Jenny Apple, "I think that would be best, before we all get busted."

  "Busted?" asked Dr. Ward. "My patient, who yesterday could scarcely speak, this morning is entertaining a room full of women."

  "My god," Geoff said, "they are all women. What's going on here?"

  "I'm taking what I see so far," said Dr. Ward, "as positive indicators." He walked across to Geoff and performed a swift exam. "Nurse," he leaned towards her badge, "Nurse Brock. Please do what I just did, then enter the results into your computer, and begin the discharge paperwork. Here's the orders; I came prepared." He handed her a slip of paper.

  "Thanks, doc," Geoff said.

  "Who started peeling off your tape, Mr. Fletcher?" asked Dr. Ward. "Never mind, you're good. You kept our bargain. You and, I suspect, your good wife."

  "My excellent wife," Geoff agreed.

  "Okay," said the doctor, "the rest of your posse? Can they go now? The hospital would be grateful."

  "Certainly, Dr. Ward," said Honoria. "I'll tell Archie Stole that he has no occasion, in you, for the least measure of regret."

  "Madam," said Dr. Ward, "what connection do you have to Dr. Stole?"

  "Oh," said Honoria, "I'm one of his oldest friends. Or course, at this stage of my life, I'm the oldest friend of everybody I know. Come Stephanie, maybe I can make it under my own power. Don't be stupid, Geoffrey."

  Dr. Ward watched the two women walk through the door, followed closely by Patrolman Apple. "Who was that matchless octogenarian?" he asked.

  "Ninety-one, nonagenarian." Geoff said. "Her hat is all rabbits, inside. Don't cross her. She hasn't revealed the half of it. So, really, I'm good to go?"

  "Yeah, you are. Nurse Brock, please pull the IV before he does it without clipping off and it dribbles over the bedding. Do be careful, sir. You will hurt. Either use my scrip for pain meds, or swallow a few Aleve as needed."

  "Aleve's fine, I wouldn't take the other stuff," Geoff said.

  Dr. Ward said, "That was my guess. So go, don't get hit again. Like the old lady said."

  "Thank you, doctor," Ellen said. "Anything I need to do?"

  "Whatever he allows. You know he has value. I liked Long Bow."

  "Really," Geoff said. "You must write, yourself. That's the most consistent audience for poetry."

  "Well, a bit," the doctor said, "non-published; non-publishable, I'm sure."

  "If you want a second opinion, send me a specimen or two in a little plastic cup. Seriously, do. It's how I make my living, as distinguished from the writing, which I do to live."

  "I will, okay, thanks." The doctor nodded at the nurse, who was taping a gauze pad over the IV prick. "Thank you, Brock. Send in the orders, please. We'll get him ready."

  ~

  Sprague looked up at the knock. He could see Jenny Apple through the glass. He waved her in. "Sit down, Apple. How was hospital detail?"

  "Brief, sir. I relieved Martinez at eight o'clock, found Miss Staedtler and Mrs. Alden in the room with the Fletchers."

  "Non-family, two hours before visiting time, patient listed as critical?" Sprague leaned across the desk towards Apple. "How'd they do it?"

  "Old lady superpowers, apparently. Claimed to be grandmother and ex-wife, then just sort of walked through. I left them briefly to have a look at Vance. His buddy Hollier was with him, said they were also due to be released first thing. Went back to Fletcher's room, the doc had showed up and was just about pushing Fletcher out the door. I couldn't make out why the hurry, except the Fletchers seemed pleased. Guessing, I'd say Fletcher didn't want to spend the night, and the doc got him to by promising early release today. Anyway, I went back into the hall, between the rooms, and waited. Ten minutes later, quarter past, they wheeled Fletcher out to the elevator. I followed them down, saw them through the door, all four packed into Mrs. Alden's hot little Mercedes S-class. By the time I got back to the floor, they were getting Vance ready. I watched them roll down and get int
o Hollier's Honda van. They're envoyage to Raleigh, I believe." Apple leaned back, took off her cap and ran her hand over her hair. "Then having nobody left to watch, I came here. To report."

  Sprague drummed his fingers on the desk a full minute, staring directly at Apple. "Overnight. Did Martinez say anything happened overnight?"

  "Not clear, sir," Apple said. "He said he'd taken a few breaks, the bathroom by the elevator, same floor, but around a corner. One time down to vending on the first floor. Under five minutes, he said. He told the over-night nurse-in-chief, to keep an eye out. She told him she'd walk the perimeter. It's a square, rectangle I guess, with the nurse's station, like the elevator, on an adjacent orthogonal."

  "'Orthogonal', you say, 'adjacent'?" Sprague planted his chin in his cupped hands, elbows on the desk.

  "I did, sir." Apple's face was almost without expression, but the corners of her mouth twitched upwards. "Anyway, she told him she thought she might have seen somebody, ducking into the fire-stairs. Didn't get a clear look, just seemed to be somebody moving faster that usual, three AM on the ward, trying not to be seen. Martinez looked at the stair landing, stairs up, stairs down, nobody there, figured it was best to plant his butt back in the hall."

  "Orthogonal to the nurse." Sprague leaned back in his chair.

  "Yessir."

  "It's all academic now. I've just been told we're off the case, until we have a case. Huff wants us to get back into the stabbing at the bar, wrap it up, since it's an actual crime with an actual victim." He laced his fingers across his stomach.

  "But, sir, assault is a crime. We have a suspect to interview, that we haven't talked to yet, Harper."

  "Basically he said we were playing fantasy football. Yeah, maybe there was a botched robbery, or a random whack on the head, but the victim's recovered and we have no actionable clues. The fantasy part is connecting one minor crime with a couple accidental deaths. I've been tying up resources, that would be you and Harkin and Martinez, plus Feather and Stuart the other day, when we have non-fictional work to do. Besides annoying citizens unnecessarily."

  "Whose complaint?" Apple asked.

  "You guess," he said, tilting his head right.

  "Ickes, ten to one." Apple sounded more sure than the odds she gave.

  "Yup. Searching the belongings of, detaining and interrogating repeatedly, many innocent persons, at least one of whom is quite important."

  "Short of stature, but large in the world." Apple pushed her chair back and stood and walked to the window and back. "So, we just stop?"

  Sprague sat up and put his hands flat on the table. "Until some unmistakable evidence appears, delivering itself into our hands."

  "Would one more dead body be enough?" Apple dropped back into the chair, letting her arms fall past the chair arms, fingers almost touching the floor.

  "Who would you arrest, Apple? We're sure we're sure, but we're not sure exactly what we're sure of. Huff is completely justified. So, yeah, we're done, except we know we're not."

  "What about the boyfriend? We don't even find Seth Harper, talk to him, get an interview on the record?"

  "As of now, no. Fantastic work with Spence last night. You got us almost everything on the record that Fletcher elicited at the coffee shop. Clearly stuff that would become an immediate focus of an investigation, if there was one." Sprague stood and looked down across the desk at Apple. "Here's my plan. We can't do any full-time surveillance, we can't even process what we've collected, or follow up the wispy leads we have."

  "I'd be up for off-duty duty, sir, off the clock," Apple said.

  "I was telling you my plan. Okay, that was it. Drive by often, watch the wire, keep in touch with any of them we can. And hope, because it is possible, that we're wrong about it, and the whole thing goes away quietly. Meanwhile, before we pull the plug, two things I'd like you to look at. The calendar page came from Alden's room, the letter arrived this morning, addressed to me." He pushed two documents encased in vinyl sheet protectors across the desk. He waited while she read them.

  She looked up a few minutes later. "Okay," she said, "I get the letter. Herr Herter and family saw Ross climbing in and out, helpfully offering several exact times. A little like turning your neighbors in to the Stazi, but possibly helpful, if we were still investigating. Ross is on my short list, several things not right there. But I don't really understand the doodling on the calendar."

  Sprague looked closely at her. "You noticed the date?"

  "Yeah, I see the possibility. It's Thursday, the nineteenth. It's her handwriting, non-expert opinion, of course. And it's calculating percentages, which I'd guess were returns, from four point five million, between five and ten percent."

  "And?" Sprague asked.

  "Supposedly she didn't know about the size of the insurance policy until after Mr. Alden died, and Ickes showed up and told her, on Saturday, the twenty-first."

  "And?"

  "What can I say, sir? The house is white on this side. She could easily have scribbled on a blank sheet from a day or two earlier or later, the date on the page doesn't date the scribble. Of course, it's worth looking at. Speaks to motive. Trade the husband for the policy, possibly in league with Ickes, a couple of the obvious possibilities."

  "Whenever you're ready to put in for Detective, Apple, you'll get the best recommendation I've ever given. Look at this now." He slid another calendar page in its vinyl protector across the desk.

  Apple examined the page for the previous day, the eighteenth. "Okay, it adds weight, could be plans for that day, Wednesday, the day Alden died, matches what she told us. What was on the other pages?"

  Sprague sat back. "Nothing much prior, though what there is roughly contemporaneous with the page dates, all blanks after the nineteenth."

  "Too bad we're not investigating. Thank you, by the way sir, for what you said. I've been kind of planning to take the plunge. Captain Huff wasn't super encouraging."

  "Not his call. You've already got most of the hours and you'll ace the test. Just get in there and take a bite out of crime." Sprague reached into the file drawer behind him and pulled out a folder. He opened it and fanned the contents across the desk. "So, about those old boys in the bar?"

  chapter forty-fourth

  Ellen drove, Geoffrey unfolded a map. The dashboard clock said 9:16. Geoff wrote the time in his notebook. "Let's not get pulled over or wrapped around a tree, dear."

  "Speed test, sweetheart, 's'what you said." She turned right onto Broadway, went under the I-240 bridge, then cut left onto the ramp heading east. She accelerated to match speed halfway to the merge, took an opening between two semis. She switched off her turn signal just long enough to switch it back on and pulled into the center lane. She passed several cars, then signaled and cut back into the right lane.

  Geoff said, "Yeah, I did. Okay, stay on this as it cuts through the mountain. When you hit Interstate 40, exit onto Highway 74A, then …"

  "No, stop there," Ellen said. "I don't want you feeling like you have no purpose the whole rest of the trip."

  "One of us spent the night with an IV drip in his or her arm. Let us not forget that."

  "One of us spent the night in a bed, as I remember; and one did not." Ellen squeezed his leg with her right hand. "I would not enjoy doing this, this life thing, without you here."

  "Me, too." Geoff put his hand on hers.

  "Okay, so how's the recovering memory getting on?" Ellen asked.

  "Well, neither like gangbusters nor like a house on fire," Geoff said.

  "I never got how either of those could be a good thing."

  "But," Geoff said, "I think it's happening in a fuzzy incremental fashion. I hope, if I really did have something, that the bits will firm up as we need them to."

  "Call Sprague," Ellen said.

  "To ask for directions?" Geoff said. "Guys can't do that, besides we know it's south-east a while then due east."

  "Okay, let me reformulate. Find out what he knows using the pretext of tell
ing him where we're going."

  "I'm purely plastic in your hands, potter-of-my-soul." He pulled his phone from the pouch and scrolled down to 'Sprague.'

  A few minutes later Geoff shut the phone and pushed it back into the pouch. "You got some of that, and drew conclusions, I'm sure. But shall I give a quick go-over?" Ellen nodded, and Geoff went on. "He's off the case, because his boss doesn't think there is a case. Too much speculation, too little data. Said, keep him posted, especially with anything he could use to crack it back open. Also said, what we should really do is just go home. Then, be careful if we can't be good. Finally, remember him in our wills."