Chapter 22
An hour later Chad was knocking once more on Julie’s door. It opened on the third knock.
“What happened to you? Did I scare you off? I was just teasing you. I wanted to see if this elderly lady still has it.” Julie winked. Chad recognized the levity as her way of putting off some of the pain and the dread she had of their next hour.
“You still got it, lady.” He looked her up and down this time. Blue jeans, white knit top, small blue teardrop earrings, a slim white gold necklace. It was all simple, practical, and complemented her blue eyes. “Top to bottom. Bottom to top, Julie.”
“Let’s go,” she said grabbing her short brown leather jacket.
As they left the elevator, Chad surveyed the lobby. “He’s not here yet.”
Chad saw only one person. A woman. Her back was turned to him. She was tall, shapely, and her copper red hair was styled in a loose wrap bun. She turned, saw them, and started forward.
Soft gray pants, a cream colored blouse, matching gray blazer, black laced half boots, and no jewelry. She didn’t need any bling, Chad thought. She should be walking down a runway. Her sparkling emerald eyes were bling enough. As she came closer, her tiny freckles mesmerized him. The sexy model magically transformed into the girl next door.
“Hi, Julie Stuart?” the woman asked, looking at Julie.
“Yes.”
“Detective Sergeant Moffat. I’m sorry for your loss ma’am.”
“Thank you. Please call me Julie.”
“Dr. Archer?” she turned toward Chad.
“Yes.” He hesitated, then he quickly said, “Call me Chad, detective.”
“Fine. Call me Sergeant. This way please.” She led the way to the front doors.
Julie jabbed Chad playfully with her elbow. “Put your eyes back in their sockets.”
Julie rode up front and was quiet, probably thinking about her father. The detective matched her silence, probably not wanting to be too light-hearted nor too somber. That was Chad’s analysis. He felt he had to carry on a conversation.
“Are you from this area, Sergeant?”
“Yes sir.”
The silence stretched out.
Chad asked, “Born and raised in York. Does that make you a Yorkman or Yorkian?”
“No,” the detective responded.
“No? Oh, of course, probably, Yorker, as in New Yorker.”
“No, as in, I was born in Gretna. I don’t know any Yorkers.”
Chad decided he’d be better off if he stopped now. They rode the rest of the way in silence.
----------
At the station, in a more comfortable conference room this time, Chad listened to a repeat of the information from yesterday. Detective Sergeant Moffat was gentle, empathetic, and factual with Julie. She didn’t volunteer how much Henry had to drink. Julie was sharp enough to know that there may have been some alcohol impairment.
“Julie,” Moffat said, “You don’t have to view the body. Dr. Archer did that.”
“I want to see him. One last time.”
“I understand,” the detective told her.
Julie asked tentatively, “Was there an autopsy? I mean has he been cut on?” Whatever image was in her mind brought tears.
“No. In accidental deaths we don’t do an autopsy. The family can of course ask for one at their expense. As I mentioned, your father struck his head on a parked car. There was some blood and dirt in that area of his head. He’s been cleaned up.”
“Thank you for being direct. I’d like to see him now.”
Chad remained quiet as he accompanied them to the morgue. Today, he studied Henry’s face. He memorized the lines, the wrinkles, and the aging spots. His head had been cleaned up. Perhaps his first look yesterday was marred by the blood, dirt, and disheveled appearance. Perhaps today he knew what to expect. It was different.
Julie held on to Chad as she looked.
“Peaceful,” she said. “He seems at peace.”
Returning to the conference room, Julie asked, “Sergeant. When will the body be released? I’d like to arrange a cremation.”
“When the coroner has made his conclusions and ruled it an accident, then the body can be released. Do you have a funeral home or service picked out?”
“No, not yet.”
“I can get you a list of the ones most often used. We can arrange to have your father moved there when he is released. I’ll get a form for you to sign. And that list.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. And his personal effects?”
“They will be available when the coroner is finished with his report. The inquest is scheduled for nine tomorrow. Will you be attending?”
“We will,” Julie spoke for both of them. “Perhaps you could just send his personal effects to me. Except the clothes. Can you destroy them?”
“Certainly.”
Julie gave the detective her address. The detective gave her a card. “Call me if I can be of help.”
While they waited for the detective to return with forms, Julie said to Chad, “He did look peaceful, didn’t he.”
“He did, Julie.”
“He’s really gone, Chad.”
He squeezed her hand. No words were needed.
Moffat returned and gave Julie the forms. “I will have a constable drive you back to the hotel. I will see you at the inquest.” Julie and the detective said their goodbyes.
As Julie looked over the list and filled out the form, the detective asked, “Dr. Archer, can I see you for a moment?”
She stepped outside of the conference room, closing the door behind Chad.
“Dr. Archer, my DCI says that you had several questions yesterday. He asked me to inquire if you have any more.”
Chad didn’t feel he wanted to share what he learned at the Crossed Arms last night. Not yet.
“I have one. CCTV. The Closed Circuit Television system. The Inspector said there was no recording of that area. Is it not usually covered, or just not recorded Monday night? Or was something wrong with the recording? I thought the UK was covered thoroughly?” He realized the tone sounded accusing. He didn’t mean to and it was not his usual style.
“Dr. Archer, we have extensive coverage of most larger cities in the UK, York included. The UK has 1% of the world’s population and 20% of its cameras. I read that there is one camera for every eleven to fourteen people. However, as with all electronics, they are prone to occasional failures and need for repair. There were cameras in that area, they just failed to record anything that night. I don’t know that they would show anything that the evidence and witnesses didn’t tell us.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
“Right,” she answered in proper British response. After a moment of hesitation, she said, “Call me Sandy, Chad.” Then she added, smiling, “Anytime.”
He was stunned at the change. He remained dumfounded and speechless as she wrote a phone number on the back of her card and handed it to Chad. She turned and walked away.
Chapter 23
The whine of the yellow ladder as it extended drowned out the sound of traffic. This trip it lifted two workers in its basket. Across the street from the York city workers, Chad Archer paced back and forth cooling down from his ten-mile run. Today’s run was close to the same route he took yesterday. At least, it felt that way as he passed some of the same sites and shops. He ended up in the same place – across from the Crossed Arms Pub. He watched the bright safety-yellow truck with the crane ladder. It was difficult to miss it, especially surrounded with fluorescent orange cones.
First, one man went up and removed a panel on the underside of the light. The worker fiddled with something and then lowered himself back to the truck bed. Chad assumed they had to disconnect the power to change the light bulb. However, it did not appear there had been a light bulb in the fixture. Nor a shield or protector. He walked a half block and looked at another street light. There definitely should be a glass protector.
Chad crossed the
street and watched with a couple other passersby, with nothing better to do. The workers located a bulb and protective cover in their truck.
They replaced the bulb, the protector, and turned on the power.
“You had to replace the bulb and shield? Is that unusual?” Chad asked the workers as they cleaned up, both now back on the ground.
“We did,” the first said.
“Damn teenagers,” the second added. “I blame their lazy parents.”
“What happened?” Chad asked.
“BB gun, most likely.” The second man had an opinion and wanted to share it. “I don’t see the bloody need to allow them to begin with. If they are for target practice, the guns should be kept at a target site. If you keep them at home, it’s just an invitation to teenagers to be vandals. Streetlights, signs, even sometimes dogs and cats.”
“Are you American?” the first one asked.
“Yes. Visiting.” Chad thought that was enough to share.
“You’ll have to excuse, Bob. This is the third one we repaired today.”
The first worker continued to rant. “Costs the city money, it does. My money. My taxes. We need more coppers on the street. You’d think someone would have seen them.”
“It was a rainy night, Bob. Not many people out and about.”
“Still,” Bob h-m-m-phd.
“All on the same night? What night was it?” Chad asked.
“All on Monday.”
-----
Chad hurried to answer the room phone, still dripping from the shower.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” Julie said. “Did you run?”
“I did. Did you get a nap?”
“No, I couldn’t sleep. Now I’m hungry. You?”
“Sure. Breakfast wasn’t much and that was five hours ago,” Chad said.
“More than five hours,” she responded.
Her words were meant to be funny, but the weariness and sadness shone through.
“You’re right. And, its noon your time at home. Do we do a lunch or early dinner?”
“Whatever. And we should clear out Dad’s room.”
“Sure, give me ten minutes.”
------
“Chad, I don’t want any of these, except his field jacket. He wore it on all his digs. It’s in all of the pictures he sent as I grew up and he was away. It was such a part of him. Take whatever you want. I will donate the rest.”
“I can take care of that for you, Julie. I’m sure the hotel manager knows a local charity. What about the suitcase?”
She looked at the old brown roller board, as beat up as his jacket.
Laughing, she said, “I wonder how old it is. It looks like it could have been his first piece of luggage, except I don’t think they had designed roller boards, yet.”
Chad joined in her laugh.
“Chad, pack it all in the suitcase and donate it all.”
“Okay. I’ll do it,” he responded. “I want to go through everything and check for any scraps of paper, notes. Why don’t I give you a knock in thirty?”
There wasn’t anything to be found in the pockets. The manager agreed to take care of the donation and was grateful to get the room back. He even declined payment for the room.
-----
It was teatime, not dinnertime, for most of the downtown restaurants, but the front desk had a recommendation that was open - an upscale Chinese restaurant, the Red Chilli.
They ordered a series of dim sum, soups, and half portion entrees over the next hour and a half. Their topics of conversation changed as often as the dishes placed in front of them.
They started with a glass of wine, but quickly moved to a bottle to accommodate all of the toasts to Dad, to Henry, to Doc. Chad only sipped on his toasts, Julie consuming most of the bottle.
A small bowl of ice cream with thin cookie wafers was delivered, unordered.
“What will you do this summer, Chad?” Julie asked realizing he had worked with her father for the last ten years.
“We hadn’t made any plans. I didn’t know if he would still be tied up with this project. I have been thinking of taking the summer off. Maybe backpack across Europe. I never did that after college. Did you?”
“Not really. Jason and I travelled the NASCAR tour. His father got him a job on the pit crew, so for two months we followed gas and oil and fumes.”
“I remember Doc telling me about that. Speaking of his current research project, I don’t know anything about it. Do you? Have you contacted them?”
“I don’t know anything, either. Or is it pronounced eye-ther, over here?” she giggled. The wine was working. “I expect it’s in his journals or there is a record at his home.”
“I think the police have the journals. They should be in his personal effects. Hey, what’s this running for office that you mentioned that required your hair change?” he asked. “Is the school board in Georgia against blondes?”
“Things have changed for me a lot in this last year. You probably know Jason and I separated last summer. Then in September, the State Representative for our area, not the one in the US Congress, had a stroke and resigned. I was asked by the governor to fill in. I was nervous, but I agreed. I didn’t realize how much my experience in the Congressman’s office had prepared me. Do you know there are only forty women out of one hundred eight representatives in the State House? We’d like to see fifty-four. On top of that, the divorce was finalized in December. This last New Year’s was like a new start to life.”
“So you fit in better as a brunette?”
“Yes, my people say I will be taken more seriously. But I just changed it a month ago.”
“Your people?”
“Campaign manager and a posse of helpers. The US Congressman, the one I worked for, is retiring. The Republican Party asked me to run in the primary. I have competition, someone they are not crazy about. There are fourteen Congressmen from Georgia, and that’s what they are - all men.”
“That’s great, Julie. All of it. If you win the primary what are your chances in the general election?”
“Real good. We have been a republican district for twenty years.”
“Will your northern heritage hurt?”
“It’s one of the points my opponent is making. A northern blonde and a woman, though he doesn’t make much of an issue out of the last point. He could lose half the voters.”
“What’s your opponent’s experience?”
“State Senator, three terms, six years. He’s more experienced, but he has pissed off some of the party people. The challenge is money. I’m spending most of my time meeting, greeting, and asking for donations to my campaign. My previous job as magistrate and running the district school board has given me great contacts.”
“Awesome, where do I sign up?”
She took his hand. “That’s sweet. Let me call you to complain and cry on your shoulder. How’s that?”
“Deal.” Chad was happy for her. His next thought was that she deserved to have Doc see her win. Doc deserved that moment, too.
Julie sighed. “Ooh. That wine. Now I’m really ready to sleep. I know it’s only six, but I need to make up for last night. Besides, this gives you enough time to call Detective Sergeant S. Moffat.”
“What are you talking about?” He knew he was blushing.
“Oh. It was so obvious. How she was looking at you. And what was that ‘can I see you outside Dr. Archer?’ I wonder what the S is for.” Julie was enjoying the inquisition.
Chad didn’t say anything. Julie raised her eyebrows and moved her face a little closer. She held that questioning gaze.
“Well?” she asked.
Finally, Chad broke. He quietly answered, “Sandy.”
Chapter 24
“Hello.” Sandy answered.
“Sandy, this is Chad Archer. Is this a good time to call you?”
“It is. I was hoping that you would.”
“Would you like to get a drink or cup of coffee or someth
ing?” he asked.
“I was about to eat. Have you eaten?”
“We did. I did. Earlier. But I can wait until later, after you eat.”
“How about this? I meet you in your lobby in about twenty minutes. I’ll give you a walking tour through my city. Along the way, we’ll stop for fish and chips. How would that be? Walking, fish, and chips.”
“Sounds great. I’ll be there with my walking shoes on.”
-------
Chad was early. He looked at every picture and piece of artwork in the lobby. Twice. He could tell you all the brochures on the rack of Things To Do in York. Sandy walked through the front doors and time stopped for him. Her red hair cascaded down her back, clasped by a frilly avocado-green band. Blue jeans, black walkers, and a light green sweater top over a deep green top, were all accented by a reddish-orange and green colored scarf tied once around her neck. From head to toe she alternated from red to green. She carried a light jacket – green of course.
“You look great,” Chad told her, his boyish smile revealing an inner honesty of appreciation. No false compliment.
“Aw-w-w,” Sandy answered twisting back and forth, her long hair flying over one shoulder then the other. “Bet you say that to all the coppers.”
“I can truthfully say that I’ve never said that to any copper.”
“You clean up nice yourself.” Sandy gave Chad a once over, stopping at his running shoes. “Those look serious, Chad. I said we’d walk, not run.”
“They seemed the best choice.”
“Right. Off we go.”
She looped her left arm around his right arm, grasping his upper arm with her left hand, leaning into his side to do so.
“Here’s York, then,” she said, waving her right arm in an encompassing sweep of the city as they emerged from the hotel.
She walked fast, her long legs and five-ten height taking long steps. “I may have to give you a hug or two, maybe even a kiss, as we walk. I want everyone to know you’re not my brother.”
“Your brother?”
“You’re tall. I’m tall. We both have red hair. Comments were made today at the station.”
Moffat's Secret Page 8