Fugue Macabre: Ghost Dance (Fugue Macabre Trilogy Book 1)

by C. J. Parker

  Lieutenant Mason leaned over the bed. “You look like shit, Detective.”

  Derek smiled. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Mason walked to the door and glanced out, then returned to Tabatha’s side. “We need to talk about what happened. Internal Affairs will be here in the morning as well. We need to get our stories straight.”

  Derek pulled himself up in the bed, winced and sucked in a hissing breath as his leg dragged upward. Every muscle in Tabatha’s body tensed at his discomfort.

  “Let me see.” Tabatha turned the sheet down to Derek’s knees and removed the bandage from his leg. The redness had lessened and the wound looked a lot less angry than the last time she’d seen it. When he and Mason looked at her questioningly, she shrugged. “Just checking the doctor’s work. If you didn’t notice, he’s a bit young.”

  Mason cocked an eyebrow. “No younger than you, I’d guess.”

  She smiled. “Yes, but I don’t cut people up. I just mess with their heads.”

  Mason laughed. “Point taken.”

  “Okay.” Derek ran his hands over his face his eyes lowered to half-mast. “What’s our story?”

  Tabatha replaced the bandage and covered Derek with the sheet again. “Make it as close to the truth as possible. I’m not a good liar.”

  Mason sat in the only chair in the room. “Actually you won’t have to lie. You ran into the house. That’s the truth. You saw Dana Tally aim her gun at Detective Bainbridge and shoot him. Again, that’s the truth. The closest thing to a lie is when you entered the house. You came running when you heard a shot. Detective Karney was already on the floor when you got there.”

  “Why was Tabatha with us on a raid in the first place?” Derek closed his eyes and yawned.

  “I overheard you talking.” Tabatha fluffed Derek’s pillows and drew the blanket up from the foot of the bed, tucking him in. “Knew you were going after my friends and followed you. You didn’t know I was there at all.”

  Mason didn’t say anything for a long moment. “That might work.” He looked to Derek. “What do you think?”

  Derek opened one bloodshot eye to look at Mason. “After Tabatha heard the shot, it would take her longer to get from her car to the back door than it would take Dana to shoot Karney and turn to shoot me.”

  “Okay. I waited until you disappeared around the house then got out of the car.” Tabatha sat on the edge of the bed and ran her fingertips over Derek’s forehead. “That’s when I heard the shot.”

  “Why didn’t we have our guns drawn?” Derek’s voice was laden with fatigue.

  Mason stood. “Look. Internal Affairs won’t be here until first thing in the morning. Get some rest, and I’ll meet you at the house. Let’s sleep on this. Give me time to think this thing out.” He patted Tabatha on the back. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

  Tabatha smiled her gratitude. “Thanks, Lieutenant. I’ll be right out.”

  She waited until the door closed then gently slid into bed next to Derek. Leaning on her elbow she gazed down into his face. “You scared the hell out of me, Derek. I thought I’d lost you.”

  “I’m tougher than that.” He pulled her close to his chest and breathed deep. “You smell like spent gunpowder.”

  She laughed lightly. “Turns you on, does it?”

  “Oh, yeah. Better than fancy toilet water.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m fading fast, kid.”

  Tabatha glanced up at his face as he closed his eyes. “Get some sleep, baby.”

  When she moved to get out of bed, his arms tightened around her.

  “Stay.”

  “I can’t.” Though God knows she wished she could. “They frown on girlfriends staying the night. I’ll be here early in the morning. I promise.”

  Mason rushed into the room. “Internal Affairs is here.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Tabatha repeated her story for what felt like the hundredth time, rolled her shoulders and sighed with fatigue.

  “And where was Lieutenant Mason while this was going down?” Larsen came across as the lead investigator of the two men sent from Internal Affairs.

  She ran her gaze over him. He was a balding, short, stocky man, with small, close-set, jade-green eyes. His nose had apparently been broken more than a few times and slanted to one side. His attitude was just as bent and beaten. He wouldn’t take an answer on the first try, but would repeat it with a different slant, then become annoyed when she gave the same answer.

  “The Lieutenant was out front. Detective Karney, Detective Bainbridge, and two police officers went to the back of the house. I had parked my car two houses down from Phelps’ place. When I saw them running toward the back, I jumped out of my car and made my way to the back. They were rushing in when I arrived. There were shots.” Larsen leaned forward looking her dead in the eyes. Tabatha leaned in and returned his stare. I learned this game when I was a kid, Mr. Policeman. “I overheard Detective Bainbridge tell the woman to put her gun down. She tossed it down. The detective told her to lay face down on the floor. She bent over and reached under her pant leg and drew another gun and aimed it at Bainbridge. I shot her, Mr. Larsen.”

  Kenyon, the second Internal Affairs officer, leaned back in his chair, stretched his feet out in front of him, shook his head and sighed. “It’s Detective, Miss Gray. You do understand you are not allowed to carry a concealed weapon in Louisiana, don’t you?”

  Damn. She’d hoped they would pass over this little detail. “I have a permit to carry in New York, which is where I’ve lived for the past nineteen years. I just moved here. And it’s Dr. Gray.” If he wanted to play the name game, she could play as well. Tabatha met his stony stare without flinching. “Let me see if I understand. You have a dead woman who kidnapped my friends Bobbie, Rhonda and her son, Shane. This woman, Dana Tally, shot one officer dead and another in the leg, but I’m the one having to explain why I shot the bitch?”

  Kenyon leaned forward, clenching the arms of the chair in a white- knuckle grip. “Now, Miss Gray-”

  Gritting her teeth, Tabatha pushed forward so quickly Kenyon jumped out of his chair, sending it skidding backward. “It’s Dr. Gray. Get it straight.”

  He stiffened his spine and stood, towering over her. Bull, from the old TV show Night Court came to mind. Kenyon could pass for his double.

  “Ma’am...” Kenyon drew a deep breath releasing it slowly and righted his chair. “Doctor, we’re only trying to get to the bottom of this. There’s no need to get testy with us.”

  “Fly that by me again. Who is the one sitting here giving you a blow-by- blow breakdown of what happened? Who has been here for hours telling the same story over and over?” Tabatha stood from her chair, standing so close to Kenyon he took a quick step back. She poked her finger toward his face. “Arrest me or let me go. I’m tired. It’s nearly time to take Detective Bainbridge home, and I’ve had no rest.”

  “Not until we speak to him.” Kenyon smiled as if he’d won a debate. “Alone.”

  Tabatha had no worries that Derek couldn’t handle these twits, but she didn’t like the idea of them browbeating him in the condition he was in. Had he even woken yet? “Well, bully for you, Kenyon. But I’ll not stand for you taking as much time with him as you did me. He’s been wounded, and the last thing he needs is for the likes of you wearing his strength down.”

  “What is Detective Bainbridge to you, Miss…” Tabatha glared at him and he held up his hand. “Sorry. Doctor.”

  “I’m going to marry him.” Take that and smoke it, bubba.

  Larsen laughed. “Know what you want and go after it, huh?”

  Tabatha’s returned laughter rang heavy with sarcasm. “I’m a strong woman, Larsen, and an honest one. You can check my references. Talk to anyone who’s worked with me.” Tabatha’s head began to spin. She needed sleep. Some food would be good. “I started carrying a gun after some gang kids kidnapped me at gunpoint to treat a friend of theirs who’d been shot during a botched robbe
ry attempt. I was able to fight my way out of that one, but didn’t want to take a chance on the next time.”

  “You fought off a bunch of gang-bangers? Bullshit.” Kenyon snorted.

  She smiled. The idea of kicking this over-inflated egotistical cop on his flat ass appealed more and more. “I can take care of myself. If I’d been there when that bitch took my friends, this whole thing would never have happened. She wouldn’t have gotten past me.”

  “Think a lot of yourself, don’t you?” Kenyon ran a critical gaze over her.

  “Am I free to go?” She glanced at her watch. “It’s a quarter of seven, and I told the doctor I’d be there to pick Derek up on the hour.” Larsen nodded. “Don’t leave town. We may want to talk to you again, after we speak with Detective Bainbridge.”

  Leave? Not going to happen. She’d been sent away the first time. It’d take an army to move her away from here again. “I’m not going anywhere. I have a home here. I’m starting a private practice in a few months.”

  Kenyon held up his hand. “Hold on. I thought you said you were from New York.”

  She sighed. Her knees shook. Her head hurt. Her stomach growled from hunger. When had she eaten last? “My mother sent me to a private school when I was ten. I went to college and med school after that. Had my internship and residency in New York. I’ve lived there for years, but New Orleans is home.”

  Kenyon mumbled under his breath. “One of those rich bi...,” then caught himself.

  “No.” She winced then lowered her gaze away from his, not wanting him to see the hurt he caused. “An unwanted bitch. After my father and grandfather died, my mother had no time or need for me. Anything else about my private life you’d like to know?”

  Kenyon’s face flushed. “Didn’t want to know that much.”

  Larsen jerked his head toward the door. “You’re free to go. Give us a few minutes to talk to Detective Bainbridge, and you can take him home. If his story jives with yours, I doubt we’ll need to talk again.”

  Dana’s voice drifted into her consciousness. Hey, bitch, you listening to me? Tell them it's all a mistake. Tell them I'm not dead.

  Tabatha grabbed the back of the chair and sunk to her knees. Larsen rushed to her side and helped her back into the chair. “Dr. Gray, are you all right?”

  The realization of what she’d done hit her like a dump truck of garbage. A sob escaped her throat before she could block it. “I killed her.”

  Kenyon jerked the door open and shouted for help. Dr. Vissman rushed in, took one look at Tabatha and groaned. “I knew it would hit her sooner or later. Shock and exhaustion.” He frowned at Kenyon and shook his head. “You men should be ashamed of yourselves. You don’t give a damn who you hurt as long as you get your facts.”

  Orderlies rushed in with a gurney, and Larsen laid Tabatha on it. “You’re going to keep her for a while?”

  “Twenty-four hours.”

  Tabatha looked up at Dr. Vissman. “No, I’ve got to take Derek home.” Vissman shook his head. “Neither one of you are going home today, Dr. Gray.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Tabatha opened her eyes to an overly bright, white room. She moaned and drew the covers over her face to block out the sunlight. She wanted to go back to sleep.

  “Tabatha. You awake?”

  Derek’s voice made her forget her headache, replacing it with memories of the night before. She jerked the blankets away and sat up. Her head spun. Her stomach twisted painfully. Derek sat in a wheelchair beside the bed, he reached out to touch her hand.

  “Are you all right?”

  Tabatha looked at him from head to toe. Why is he in a wheelchair? “Are you in any pain? What time is it?”

  Derek glanced at his watch. “I’m fine. A little pain but nothing serious. A little after ten.”

  That last word landed on her like a sixteen-ton brick. “I’ve been asleep for three hours? Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “Dr. Vissman said to let you sleep. And you slept a bit longer than three hours.”

  She retraced the hours back to when she was talking to the detectives.

  “No. I distinctly remember it was seven o’clock when I went down for the count.”

  Derek nodded and grinned. “Seven o’clock yesterday morning.”

  It took a few moments for what he’d said to sink in and make sense. She knew she’d been tired. But not that tired. She mentally counted off the days since Missy’s death and hot tears gathered in her eyes. “Missy has been dead four days. I won’t be able to talk to her. I failed her.” What good was having this damned curse if she couldn’t figure out how to make it work? Poor Missy, she was so frightened.

  Derek drew her hand to his lips and kissed each finger. “She was dead already, Tabatha. You couldn’t have saved her.”

  She was about to reply when Dr. Vissman entered.

  “Well, I see the patient finally decided to join us. How are you feeling?”

  Like a failure. “Fine. Can I go home?”

  Dr. Vissman took the stethoscope from around his neck and placed it against her chest, listened for a few moments, then shoved the stethoscope into his pocket. How many times had she gone through this same routine? His mind was ticking off reasons to keep her there or let her go, what he’d tell her, the directions for her care. Just like she’d done so many times before. He next checked her blood pressure and pulse. He patted her on the head.

  She slapped his hand away. “I’m not a two year old, Dr. Vissman.”

  His eyebrows arched. “Yes. I noticed. Now, get dressed, Dr. Gray. You can go home.”

  Tabatha’s whole body relaxed then tensed again. “What about Detective Bainbridge? I’m not leaving without him.”

  Vissman laughed. “The detective was released at eight this morning. He’s been hanging around waiting for you. You gave him quite a scare.”

  She grinned and gave Derek a wink. “We’re even.”

  Dr. Vissman’s face turned serious. “The Lieutenant told me you’re looking for the child killer, but I have to insist that Detective Bainbridge not overdo. We don’t want infection.”

  “I know what to watch out for, Dr. Vissman.” She tossed back the blanket and sat on the edge of the bed. “I may be a psychiatrist, but I’ve had the same medical training as you. I’ll make sure he behaves himself. If there is any sign of trouble, you’ll hear from me immediately.”

  He nodded. “Good enough.” He stared at Tabatha as if formulating a thought. “Where do you work, Dr. Gray? What hospital are you affiliated with?”

  She gave his question thought. Why he wanted to know was top on her list of questions. “I’ve not had time to take care of the legalities locally. When I do, I plan to set up a private practice.”

  “Let me know.” He handed her a business card. “Maybe I can send some work your way.”

  Guilt rushed heat to her cheeks. He wanted to help her get started. “That would be great. Thanks.”

  He glanced from her to Derek and offered him his hand. “Take care of her, Detective.”

  Derek grasped his hand. “I’ll do my best, Doc. Thanks for everything.” Turning to look at Tabatha one more time, Dr. Vissman nodded and left the room.

  Derek snorted. “I think our friendly doctor has a crush on you, Tabatha.”

  Laughter bubbled up from her chest, but she held it down. “Jealous?”

  He frowned, saying nothing for what seemed like an eternity. “Hell, yes. It’s hard for an over-the-hill cop to compete with a young, handsome doctor.”

  Her heart swelled. God she loved this man so much it hurt. She slid from the bed, walked behind him and hugged him close. “First, you’re not over-the-hill. Second, you’re much better looking than Dr. Vissman. Third and most important, I love you, Derek.”

  He placed his hands on her arms and leaned against her body. “I love you, too, kid.”

  Tabatha wanted to cheer, but she simply kissed his cheek. “Let’s go home. Bertha must be pacing the floors by now.” />
  ~

  Tabatha shook her head as Bertha ran from the back door and threw the passenger car door open. Bertha was back into her mother hen mode. Derek would be tucked into bed and fed to bursting so fast his head would swim.

  “Mr. Derek, I swear, I ought to give you a whippin’. Goin’ off and getting’ y’self shot. You come on, now, and let me get you to bed. You listen to what I say, and you’ll be up and around in a couple of days.”

  Derek’s laugh boomed inside the car’s small interior. “You might be biting off a bit more than you can chew, thinking you can spank me, woman. I’m not ready to go to bed, and I’m up and around now.”

  Oh, he’d done it now. “You shouldn’t argue with her, Derek. She’ll just baby you all the more.”

  Bertha made a noise between a grunt and growl. “I ain’t seen you movin’ yet. You’re still sittin’ your butt in that car.” She shook her head and clicked her tongue against the top of her mouth. “Put your arm around my shoulders, and I’ll help you get up.”

  “I can get up just fine, Bertha.” He turned in the seat, placed one hand on the roof of the car and the other on the door. He got so far as his butt off the seat a few inches before his knees buckled and he landed hard.

  Tabatha’s heart jumped from her chest to the middle of her esophagus. She reached out to steady him so he didn’t fall back against the gearshift. “Stay where you are. I’m coming around.”

  When he tried again, Bertha reached under his arm and around his back. With one movement he had been lifted to his feet and was being led toward the door. “Young man, you best learn not to argue with me. Didn’t your momma tell you to respect your elders?”

  He smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Tabatha’s relief of seeing Rhonda, Shane and Bobbie standing at the door was palpable. Her whole body relaxed. Everyone was safe. She wouldn’t let them out of her sight until this Guardian problem was ended once and for all.

  Shane ran to Derek’s side and wrapped his arm as high up on Derek’s body as he could reach. “I’ll help you, Mr. Derek.”

  “Thank you, Shane.” Derek laid his shaking hand on the boy’s shoulder. “That’s downright manly of you. Did you take care of our women while I was gone?”