[Sign Behind the Crime 01.0] Gemini

by Ronnie Allen

  ***

  At the nurse’s station, the three nurses, one of them Karen, were inconsolable. John had no patience and he made that more than clear. “Stop the tears now. We need your help.”

  Two of the three glanced up at him. Karen avoided eye contact.

  “And you are?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Hey.”

  She looked up meekly and he read her tag.

  “Karen, what did you see? You’re being recorded.”

  “Okay. I already told Phil. A woman stepped into a room and told me she was there to see a former patient. And I got suspicious ’cause I didn’t have it in the files. I read everythin’ before my shift, Dr. Trenton. I saw what you wrote describing her. And I didn’t think it was this woman. I got a new admit just before, a real seriously ill one, and their family stressed me out. I wasn’t thinkin’. Oh, my God. I was so wrong. I’m so sorry. If she’s the killer, how would I have stopped her, anyway?”

  “Okay. Calm down. What was her name?”

  “Dr. Pauline Jones.”

  “Can you describe her?”

  “Red business suit, black hair, looked like she had a good figure. Long bangs covered her eyes and she was wearin’ tinted glasses. They looked designer, but I sure as hell couldn’t tell which one. I don’t know the color of her eyes but she was wearin’ sneakers.”

  “What color were they? The sneakers.”

  “White and pink.”

  “Let the record show, those are the sneakers I gave to Barbara Montgomery from her Brooklyn apartment this morning at eleven a.m. when I moved her from observation to her room on this floor. What else did her name tag say?”

  “Chief psychologist of some center.”

  “Gemini Clinic?”

  “No, no. That I’d remember. I saw it in the file. This was a name that no one would recall. And doctors come and go here.”

  “Who was the patient?”

  “Lois Carrolls.”

  “Did you talk to her?”

  “Just what I said. I told her to wait by the room and not move, then I went to check the file at the station.”

  “How long did it take you?”

  “Look at me. I can barely walk, yet alone run. She took off as soon as I turned my back. But I did notice she didn’t have a coat and she wasn’t wearin’ stockings. Bare legs in February? But I didn’t say anythin’. I figured maybe she had left her coat in her car.”

  “Tonight was your lucky night, Karen. That saved your life. Thanks. We’ll be asking you more questions.”

  John led Sergeant McDonald to a private area. “Dig up the records on Lois Carrolls. Find out when she was admitted and if a Kellie Wilson was here at the same time. It’s probably archived and on microfiche. I doubt if they computerized patient files from years ago. You’re going back--if I did the math correctly-- twenty-two years and more, 1980s. If yes, I want everything on Kellie, every transcript, every treatment plan, every time she was disciplined, sedated, and restrained, what led up to her admission here, and how long she stayed. I want every note of what happened here. She knew those cabinets came out and they connected to another room. I want to know what triggered the memory and how far back it was.”

  “You’re asking a lot, Dr. Trenton. Could be thousands of screens. That’s gonna take a long time.”

  “Sergeant McDonald, I don’t care if you have to go through ten thousand pages. Think about it as if your job depends upon it. It was your responsibility to make sure these guards are on top of things. You let a murderer go free. I didn’t have concrete proof before that she was, but now unfortunately, I do. And her murdering spree in New York is just beginning.”

  ***

  “Park here to your right,” Barbara told the cabbie.

  The cabbie pulled into a spot in front of semi-attached homes.

  “Wait here for me. I’m going around the corner. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

  She got out the driver’s side with the thirty-degree winter air hitting her. She was so preoccupied she ignored the frost coming out of her nose and mouth. She casually strolled to the corner of Avenue R. After rounding the corner, she sprinted the two blocks to Mrs. Bennett’s house. She glanced at her watch, eleven-oh-five.

  Perfect, she’s watching the News now before bed.

  She surveyed the neighboring houses. All was dark in the Tudor-style homes on either side. No TVs on. No lights in the dens. There was no one to hear the bell that was about to be rung. Barbara tiptoed up the steps to the house and rang the sing-song bell. Looking through the window, Barbara saw Mrs. Bennett rise cautiously from the couch. “Who’s there?”

  “Sarah, it’s me, Barbara,” she said very softly.

  “Oh my God!” Mrs. Bennett raced to the door and opened it, wearing a full-length jacquard velvet robe, and embraced Barbara as she entered. “Oh my, sweetheart. How are you?” She inspected Barbara, shocked at the wig.

  “They released me if I promised to wear this. They’re close to catching the guy and I’ll stay at my Manhattan apartment. Don’t think the creep knows about this one.”

  “Oh my. Can I get you something? You must be starving. Come sit down, sweetheart.”

  They convened on the couch in the den overlooking the front porch. “I’m so sorry to come over so late, Sarah, but I knew you’d be up and so worried about me. I was just now released, so I figured I stop by on the way home.”

  “I am so glad you did. I’m so relieved. You know you’re like a daughter to me. How did you get here? I don’t see a cab’s light outside?”

  “He’s waiting around the corner. Didn’t want to implicate you if anyone followed me, but I checked. No one did. And you know what that guy looks like, Sarah. So promise me, you’ll call Detective Mandella the moment, and I mean the moment, you see him again.”

  “You can be sure of that, sweetheart. We have the week off so he won’t find me at school. I’ll be fine. I’m so worried about you. The thought of anyone wanting to hurt you.” Mrs. Bennett shook her head and cringed. “I can’t bear the thought. You know that Dr. Trenton, he’s such a nice man, but he didn’t speak to you much, did he?”

  “You spoke to Dr. Trenton?” Barbara seethed.

  “Yes, he came by this afternoon. He wanted to know about you. He’s so concerned. We spent an hour, chatting.”

  “Chatting? About me?”

  “Yes, my sweetheart.”

  “Really? Oh, Sarah. What did you tell him?”

  “Well, he wanted to know how long we’d known each other. I told him about your parents’ accident. You know, background stuff. How I love you so much and I requested you. Our history. Before and after you got your doctorate. What I know about your life after school. How you like, well, uh, the club scene. I told him as much as I could. He wants to find out who did this to you. He really had a sense of urgency. Didn’t want any small talk.”

  And neither do I, Sarah, sweetheart.

  Barbara wedged her hand into her bag and slid the gun to the top of it. “I really must be going, Sarah. I’m exhausted.”

  “Sure, sweetheart, I understand.” A pillow was braced between them as Mrs. Bennett gave Barbara a final embrace.

  Three shots were fired, silenced by the pillow, and pierced Mrs. Bennett’s chest. She collapsed back onto the couch with wide-open eyes, killed instantly.

  “You talk too much, Sarah, sweetheart.”

  Never did like you much, anyway. You’re way too maternal for my blood.

  CHAPTER 36

  Three Years Earlier:

  “Dr. Trenton, I don’t care how prominent you are in New York City,” the social worker said. “I don’t care that you’re chief of forensic psychiatry. I know all about you, Dr. Trenton. You’re not taking the child out of Florida.”

  John wanted to throw the phone against the wall. He leaned back on the earth-toned contemporary couch in Vicki’s great room, overlooking the lanai, trying to remain rational and calm. “Mrs. Williamson, I’ll be ab
le to give Ricky a very good life and take care of all the problems he’s having. And you can rest assured he has problems.”

  “That doesn’t matter, Dr. Trenton. It’s the law. His parents were just brought into custody two days ago--”

  “I know. I was there. I facilitated that.”

  “Whatever. There has to be a full investigation and the child is the key witness.”

  “Ricky, his name is Ricky.”

  “I know what his name is, Dr. Trenton. Ricky’s great aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Morris will be coming up from Miami this afternoon to get him.”

  “What do you know about them?”

  “They’re the maternal grandmother’s sister and brother-in-law and they have three grown children.”

  “That’s it? Ricky told me that much.”

  “Their children are not in jail. No signs of alcohol or substance abuse.”

  “Their kids are not in jail? That’s a low benchmark criteria. Don’t you think?”

  “It’s better than being in the system. Look, I’ve been doing this over thirty years and I follow the book. It’s less complicated and more efficient that way. And better for the child in the long run.”

  “How about if I adopt him?”

  “Now?”

  “Right now!”

  “That’s impossible. His parents have to go through the process and give up parental rights.”

  “I can convince them to do that. From what I already know, they don’t want him.”

  “Not possible. It takes a few years and many court appearances. And you’re going back to New York on Monday?”

  How does she know so much? Ah, yes. The sheriff. Sheriff Marin doesn’t want me hanging around either.

  “How about if I get an attorney?”

  “They’ll tell you the same thing. It’s Florida law. The child, uh Ricky, cannot be taken out of the state. Even if you were to move in with Miss Marin and get married, you still can’t be the guardians. There is a blood relative willing to have him. And the court won’t let Miss Marin have him either, a single woman.” She made it sound like it was a crime for Vicki not to be married at thirty-seven. “They would only assign a foster child to a couple, an intact married couple, even if they are in a lower socio-economic bracket than you or Miss Marin.”

  “Come on, single men and women become foster parents.”

  “We’re very conservative down here. Forget it. Won’t happen. Not without a lot of effort.”

  “If things don’t work out with the aunt and uncle, then can I have him?”

  “As a guardian, if you’re married and live in Florida as your primary residence, maybe. You’re not even licensed to practice medicine in Florida, are you?”

  Again, he ignored the question. “What about adoption?”

  “I told you that it takes years.”

  He blew out a deep breath in frustration. “All right then, will I be able to talk to the aunt and uncle, to tell them what they need to do?”

  “Absolutely not. This has nothing to do with you. A social worker, Miss Angeletti, will be picking him up at noon at Miss Marin’s home and he’ll wait at our offices for the Morrises to arrive. So have him ready, Dr. Trenton.”

  “Mrs. Williamson, he needs so much medical and psychological attention. From his behavior I can see he’s so deficient in many areas, including his health.”

  “Dr. Trenton, I appreciate your concern but, in a nutshell, it’s not your business. It’s between Ricky’s family and the courts here in Sun County. Have you prepared him that he’s not staying with you? Or did you give him false hope?”

  It was I who had the false hope.

  “Yes, we told him his aunt and uncle are coming from Miami to get him. He knows them and says he likes them. At first, he thought he was staying with us. And that’s what he said he wanted. But he accepted it, too easily in my professional opinion. Who’s the judge handling the case?”

  “Good day, Dr. Trenton. Have him ready at noon.” The phone disconnected.

  Noon? That’s in fifteen minutes! Crap! What the hell am I going to do? We love that little kid. We could give him more love than anyone else can. We could make up for the five years of hell he went through.

  Vicki opened the door and Ricky ran to John.

  “John, here. Vicki took this when we were sleeping. One is for you an’ one is for me.”

  They were the pictures Vicki took of him sleeping on John’s bare chest. Their arms were around each other as if crazy glue pasted them together. John tried to conceal his pain, looking at the photo. “Wow, that’s great, champ. Really great! Thanks!” He ruffled Ricky’s curls affectionately.

  “I am going to carry it in my pocket all the time.” Ricky slipped the photo into his shorts pocket.

  “Me too.”

  “Why do you look so sad, John?”

  John embraced him. Vicki noticed his eyes well up with tears and she began to flow too, so much that she had to leave the room. “I’ll miss you, and so will Vicki.”

  “I will miss you, too, but I like Miami.”

  “You’ve been there?”

  “Yes. Mommy an’ me lived there when I was three. Then we came back here. I dunno why but I liked Miami better.”

  Before John had a chance to question him, the doorbell rang. Vicki answered, blowing her nose and sniffling. Miss Angeletti spent a moment to scan the home.

  John knew she could tell they were both distraught, but it didn’t faze her in the least. She barely made direct eye contact with either of them. Even at the young age of thirty, she appeared hardened by the system. Mrs. Williamson had trained her well.

  “Ricky. It’s time to go.”

  Vicki handed the woman his bag.

  John released him. “Go ahead, champ.”

  Ricky skipped to the door, not looking back at either of them, showing no emotional attachment. “Bye.” He waved haphazardly and left, holding Miss Angeletti’s hand.

  John grabbed Vicki in his arms and they let the tears flow freely, holding each other tightly. He kissed her neck as he whispered, “We’ll get him back, Vick. He’s coming back, to us.”

  Vicki looked up into his eyes wiping the tears away with her gentle touch.

  “I need some time alone, babe.” He released her and walked slowly with his head down into the bedroom where he threw himself down on her bed with his face buried in the pillow, just like he did when he was a little kid.

  She stood in the great room, staring after him.

  ***

  Vicki arrived at the pool and forgot how empty she felt when she saw Amanda and her two brothers Mark, age eleven, and Evan, age eight, laughing and splashing, as their dad played the Marco Polo game with them in the pool. The kids took turns screaming Marco or Polo. Then the one who was Marco had to tag someone who yelled Polo. The goal was to move away so you didn’t get tagged. To Vicki, it was boisterous, aggressive, and quite annoying to seniors craving tranquility around the pool. When parents played, especially such a big and strong guy like Mark, any observer would just want to scream. Obviously, her brother didn’t care about the noise. She knew this was his first day off in weeks. Jaimie constantly complained to her about it. After this last case, he needed it.

  Mark jumped out of the pool. “Watch your sister,” he told the boys.

  Vicki tried to relax on a lounge, but she was restless. “Hi. It’s been a rough morning. John’s taking it hard.”

  Mark adjusted his lounge to face the sun. “What did he expect? A fairy tale ending?”

  “He really expected to be able to keep him.”

  “And you and Ricky move to New York? Just like that? You better watch it. This guy doesn’t live in the same reality as we do.”

  “And listen to this, Mark. He said and I quote, ‘We’ll get him back. He’s coming back to us.’”

  “What is he, a fortune teller?”

  Vicki shrugged.

  “Ya never know, Vick. Maybe he’s got some political connections you don’
t know about.”

  John appeared from behind them, carrying a knapsack over his shoulder, wearing a white tank top and shorts. “Actually I do, Mark.”

  Mark looked up at him and laughed.

  “I’m directly connected to a higher authority.”

  Mark laughed harder.

  John’s cell rang. “Dr. Trenton.”

  “It’s Sal. Near your laptop?”

  “Actually, I have it with me. Wanted to check in.”

  “Go somewhere private. It’s major.”

  “What happened?”

  “Log in with your NYPD access code.”

  “Give me a minute.” John walked over to a round table and opened the umbrella for shade. He opened the laptop, got it up and running, put in his code, and saw Sal through Skype. “What’s going on?”

  “What happened to you? You look like shit. Don’t look like you’ve been on vacation.” Sal sounded alarmed.

  John knew that even his Versace sunglasses wouldn’t hide the expression on his face. “It’s been a rough couple of days.”

  “Your folks okay?”

  “My father had a fender bender as soon as I got down here and it’s been downhill ever since.”

  “What else is goin’ on?”

  “I’ll tell you about it when I get back. What have ya got?”

  “Remember a teen patient of yours, Hal Martin?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “He slaughtered his family five hours ago. A neighbor called in a disturbance. We got here when he was still at the scene. He was plungin’ and extractin’ a twelve-inch serrated butcher knife numerous times into his mother. She was the last kill, but don’t know order of rest. ME says it looks like over twenty times as far as a visual count. Same weapon for each kill.”

  John rubbed his face in despair. “Oh, man.”

  “We have him in custody, but what can you tell us?” Sal panned the camera.