Mr. Sandman: A Thrilling Novel

by Lyle Howard

  Julie did as he asked, and the dungeon-like shadows vaporized in a wash of resplendent fluorescent lighting. Lance’s eyes adjusted four times faster than everyone else’s, but that just made it that much quicker to see that Brandon was scrutinizing him with a venomous gaze. “What’s wrong, old buddy?” Lance asked.

  “Old buddy? … Old buddy?” Muller’s voice strained to climb two octaves. “Crystal’s barely dead twenty-four hours and you’re here questioning my parents already?”

  Lance never remembered feeling this self-conscious be­fore. He looked over at Muller’s mother, who stared at him with an expressionless face. “I’m sorry, Brandon. It’s my job.”

  “They don’t know anything!”

  Lance held up his hands in submission. “Okay … okay … just relax. We don’t want the nurses to come racing in here thinking I’m giving you a heart attack.”

  Muller’s hands clawed at the pale green sheets. His knuckles were drained of blood. “If you have anything to ask, you ask me,” he said through gritted teeth. “I was there, I saw it all.”

  Lance grasped the metal railing at the foot of the bed and leaned forward. “Fine … let’s talk.”

  Muller closed his eyes, but he managed to find his mother’s hand to hold it. “Not with them here.”

  Mr. Muller stood up and took his wife by the arm. “Come on, Miriam, we’ll go get some coffee down in the cafeteria.”

  Julie got up to leave as well. “I’ll keep you company, if that’s alright.”

  Brandon opened his eyes and looked at his co-worker. “I’d like you to stay, Jules.”

  Julie smiled. “Are you sure?”

  Brandon nodded. Brandon’s mother rubbed the back of her hand across her son’s cheek. “Are you going to be all right?”

  Brandon managed to flash her an optimistic wink. “I’ll be fine, Mom. Just give us a little time alone.”

  Brandon’s father took the cue and led his wife out of the room. “Can I bring anyone anything from the cafeteria?” he asked as he held open the door.

  Lance and Julie both thanked him but declined. It was a full five minutes before anyone in the room said anything. Brandon appeared deep in thought, and Lance wanted to give him all the time he needed to compose himself.

  “It was horrible,” Muller suddenly related, staring up at the ceiling and speaking to no one in particular.

  Julie stepped up to the bed, reached down, and took a hold of Muller’s right hand. “Take your time, Brandon. We’ll be here as long as it takes.”

  Lance looked up at the monitors mounted on the wall above Brandon’s head and noted a steady fluctuation in his pulse rate and blood pressure. “There’s no rush,” Lance cautiously insisted. “Just relax and tell us everything that you can remember.”

  “We were arguing,” Brandon admitted as his eyes began to fill with tears. “The last thing that I’ll ever remember about her, is that we were arguing.”

  Julie squeezed his arm. “Don’t persecute yourself like this, Brandon. You couldn’t have known.”

  Muller blinked back the emotion. “You’re wrong. I knew we were in trouble the minute I saw the pet carrier.”

  Lance leaned closer. “Crystal wasn’t surprised that Spunky suddenly reappeared in the condo?”

  Muller looked to the foot of the bed at Lance, and then to his right at Julie. “I think she believed that I had brought him back as a surprise … but we both knew that pets weren’t allowed in the building.”

  “So, she was as surprised as you were, to find the dog there?”

  Muller nodded. “The carrier was mixed in with all of the other boxes. We didn’t know he was in the condo until we heard him whimpering.”

  “Do you think that one of the movers could have brought the carrier into the apartment?”

  Muller took in a shallow breath. “I didn’t get there until the movers were just about done. There were so many people in and out of the place all day. It could have been anyone.”

  Lance rubbed his hands along the cool metal railing that encompassed the bed. “Was it you that was supposed to get rid of Spunky before you moved in?”

  Muller shook his head. “No. Spunky was Crystal’s dog. When her parents refused to keep him at their estate, she said she would take care of getting rid of him.”

  Lance didn’t want to come right out and ask the $64,000 question. “So, you mean, she put an ad in the paper to find a new owner? That kind of thing?”

  Muller frowned. “Crystal didn’t have the time or the patience for that. She just turned him in.”

  Lance bit his lower lip. “Turned him in where?”

  “Animal Control, I think.”

  Julie looked up at Lance at the mere mention of the place. “Dade County Animal Control?” she chimed in.

  Muller shrugged. “Dade County… Broward County … who cares? They all serve the same purpose.”

  Lance didn’t realize that his hands had tightened around the railing like a vise. “So it might have been Broward?”

  Muller’s puffy eyes looked perplexed. “Sure, it might have been.”

  “Tell us what happened next,” Julie prodded.

  “When I saw the carrier, I pleaded with her to leave the dog alone.”

  Julie caressed Muller’s hand gently. “But she wouldn’t?”

  Muller took an unsteady breath and shook his head sadly.

  “No, she wouldn’t.”

  “What then?” Lance asked.

  “I don’t remember much more.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “I remember falling backward over some boxes and then everything from then on is a blur.”

  Lance tapped his fingers nervously on the bed’s cold steel railing, since he presumed that he was about to step on shaky ground. “What I’ve got to ask you next is a bit delicate.”

  Muller managed a smile. “Well then, it’s a good thing I’m lying down, isn’t it?” Julie winked at Brandon. Humor was a good sign.

  “Would you know if anyone held a grudge against your fiancé?”

  Julie gulped audibly because she knew no one really cared for Crystal.

  Brandon looked up at the ceiling again as he labored to fight off the tears which once again seemed to be unstop­pable. “Take your pick.”

  The answer took Julie by surprise and her wide-eyed expression showed it.

  “I beg your pardon?” Lance asked.

  Muller’s bottom lip quivered as he spoke. “It was true. I have to be honest.. .Crystal was not … shall we say, easy to get along with.”

  Lance reached down and grabbed Muller’s foot and squeezed it for support. “Would anyone dislike her enough to want to physically harm her, though?”

  Brandon pouted. “She wasn’t like that, Cutter. Everyone who knew her knew that the only way you could really cause Crystal anguish would be to take away her credit cards.”

  Lance and Julie both struggled not to laugh.

  “I mean it,” Muller continued wearily. “Crystal was harmless. This had to have been a random act of violence, or just some freaky natural accident.”

  Lance shook his head defiantly. “I can almost promise you that it wasn’t some freaky natural accident.” Lance was about to grill Muller further when he noticed Julie signaling him to back off.

  “Are you getting tired?” Julie asked.

  Muller frowned. “More frustrated than tired.”

  “Is there anything we can do for you?” she asked compas­sionately.

  Muller embraced her hand in his. “I don’t think so, Jules.” He looked down the length of his body at Lance standing in front of him. “I’m sorry about the outburst before, Cutter. I know it’s your job to question anybody you think might know something. I was out of line.”

  Lance held up his hands in forgiveness. “Apology ac­cepted. We don’t have to dredge up anymore bad thoughts for now. Get yourself some rest. If you think of anything else, you know where you can reach me.”

  Muller paused for a long
second and then pointed at Lance. “Hey Cutter, do you really think that it’s possible?”

  Lance moved around the bed and stood next to Julie. “Do I think what’s possible?”

  “Spontaneous combustion.”

  Julie poked her elbow into Lance’s side and gestured that the conversation should end immediately. Muller needed his rest. “No, I don’t think so,” Lance conceded. “Once, perhaps. Twice, I don’t think so. Three times … impossible.”

  “Then why did it have to happen to my Crystal?”

  Lance reached over the railing and patted Muller’s leg. “That’s what I’m paid to find out.”

  Muller’s face turned somber. “Then why are you standing around here shooting the breeze with me? You should be out on the street doing your job.”

  Lance looked at Julie and then down at Muller. “Yeah, right.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Julie insisted. “Are you going to be okay, Brandon?”

  Muller removed his hand from Julie’s grasp. “I don’t need you hovering over me like a mother hen. I’ve got my parents for that.”

  “Okay then, we’ll be off.” Lance said, shaking Brandon’s hand.

  Muller lost sight of his associates as they walked out into the corridor, but he called out after them. “You’ll let me know if you come up with anything, right?”

  “Count on it,” Lance answered as he let the door gently close on its spring hinge.

  The minute they stepped out into the hallway, Julie punched Lance in the upper arm causing him to wince in pain.

  “What the heck was that for?” Julie waited until a nurse who was walking by passed out of hearing range. “Have you no compassion? Who the hell taught you diplomacy, the Three Stooges?

  “What are you talking about?”

  Julie began pacing with her hands on her hips, finding it hard to control her voice in the quiet confines of the hospital. “The man’s fiancé just died, for Pete’s sake! Did you have to make him acknowledge that she was an affliction to anyone who ever knew her?”

  Lance leaned against the wall. “Oh, those are real kind words, sweetheart. I’ll have to remember to volunteer you to deliver her eulogy!”

  “Lance Cutter! You know very well what I mean. It’s one thing to say it out here, and another to bring it up in there!” she scolded him, as she pointed at the door.

  Lance rubbed his eyes because his contact lenses were beginning to bother him. “It’s my job to ask those questions.”

  Julie crossed her arms over her chest. “I just don’t think that you picked an appropriate time, that’s all.”

  Lance blinked rapidly in an attempt to lubricate his eyes. “Your point is duly noted.”

  Julie turned her back on him. “Fine.”

  “Why are you letting this bother you again?” Lance asked, spinning her around to face him. “I thought we settled this last night?”

  “It started all over when I saw him lying there,” she said, unable to hide the gloom in her eyes. “Whether anyone liked her or not, she was still the center of his world.”

  Lance pulled her to him. As he hugged her hard, he stroked her hair. “It kind of puts you in touch with your own mortality, doesn’t it?”

  She pulled her head back and looked deep into his violet eyes. “Why do we risk our lives like this? Why aren’t we satisfied to sit behind a desk, or work retail?”

  Lance put his arm around her and began leading her to the visitor’s lounge down the hall. “Come on, we’ll sit down and

  talk.”

  Outside of the lounge, business in the hospital went on as usual. Babies were born, patients died, and people walked out cured. The smell of disinfectant wafted through the halls like the smell of grease in a fast-food restaurant. Julie and Lance walked leisurely down the corridor without speaking, both just enjoying the all-too-scarce sensation of holding someone close.

  The television mounted on the wall of the lounge was turned to some mindless afternoon soap opera and since they were alone, Lance muted the sound with the remote control. “How does anyone watch that crapola?” he asked.

  Julie sat herself down on a couch on the opposite side of the single coffee table in the room. On the table was a smattering of age-old magazines. Julie pushed a few of the tabloids aside and propped her feet up on the table. “There was a time that you used to watch them.”

  The sound clicked off. “That was a long time ago,” he said, setting the remote control down on the table.

  “Not so long ago.” Lance nodded.

  “It sure seems like it.” Julie patted the cushion next to her, motioning for him to take a seat there. “Don’t you ever miss the adrenaline rush of going out on the engine?”

  Lance drew in a deep contemplative breath. “Sometimes yes, sometimes no.”

  Julie chuckled. “There goes that Three Stooges diplo­macy again!”

  Lance gave a submissive nod. “It sure sounds that way, doesn’t it?”

  “So, do you miss it?” Lance sat down and placed his hand tenderly on her thigh.

  “Not when I’m working on cases like this.”

  “What did you find out this morning?” Julie asked as she flirted with the blond, almost transparent, hair on the back of his hand.

  “Hey, we came in here to talk about you,” Lance replied. “That can wait until dinner.”

  “Dinner?” Julie turned her head until her lips were hardly centimeters from his. Her voice turned so deep that Lance thought he might drown in it. “I owe you a dinner, so why not tonight?”

  Lance pulled her close, and they kissed as though they had both suddenly discovered some miraculous process that would dissolve the insecurities that each of them carried around like unwanted pounds.

  Lance drew back. “What time?”

  Julie’s eyes were closed and, in her mind, she was still in some faraway place with Lance by her side. “Time?”

  Lance cupped her face in his hands and rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs. “Dinner.”

  Her eyes flickered open. “Uh … whatever time you want.”

  Lance raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to cook?”

  Julie feigned outrage. “I know how to cook!” Lance took his eyebrow up another notch. “I do,” she protested.

  “Are you sure?” Lance teased as he playfully poked her in the ribs.

  Julie giggled riotously, and within seconds, it was an all-out tickling skirmish. They swatted at each other’s hands as they jockeyed for the optimum position in which to annoy each other.

  “Stop it!”

  “You stop it!”

  “You started it!”

  “Did not!”

  “Did too!” Julie’s long red hair was a mess. It covered Lance’s face, but not enough to totally obstruct his vision. A mountain of white cloth seemed to be filling the doorway to the lounge.

  “Excuse me!”

  Julie’s face was buried in one of the seat cushions. “Who is it?” she asked Lance in a muffled whisper.

  He spoke out of the corner of his mouth so that only Julie could hear him. “It’s either a nurse who’s into steroids, or the abominable snowman just blew into town.”

  Julie pressed her face into the cushion and made a snorting sound trying to stifle her laugh.

  “Excuse me,” bellowed the voice.

  Lance blew Julie’s hair out of his face. “Yes, ma’am?” Lance wasn’t far from the truth. Bertha Wasajowski was every inch of six feet and every ounce of 300 pounds. She wore her stringy gray hair lashed tightly in a bun that towered over her nurse’s cap. Her triceps poured out of the short sleeves of her uniform and were so corpulent, it seemed to be where all the cellulite in the world had decided to go for vacation. Standing in the doorway, she eclipsed nearly all the light coming in from the corridor. “This is a hospital,” she reprimanded them.

  Lance pushed Julie, who had somehow ended up strad­dling him, off to one side. “Yes, ma’am, we’re aware of that.”

  Wasajowski surveyed th
e lounge for damage. Satisfied that there was none, she withdrew from the doorway. “Then act accordingly!”

  Julie leaned her head back on the cushion and tried to catch her breath. “I thought she was going to kick us out!”

  “That would have been alright with me,” Lance con­fessed. “But for a minute there, I thought she was going to swallow us whole!”

  “I think she could have,” Julie admitted, holding her side.

  “Damned right!” A few seconds went by where they sat silently and tried to compose their thoughts. “So what time is dinner? You never said.”

  “Don’t expect anything special. Whenever you get there will be fine. I’ll stop off on the way home at the grocery store and pick something up we can throw on the barbecue.”

  Lance smacked his lips. “That sounds good to me.”

  Julie lifted her right leg and crossed it beneath her bottom. “So what did you find out at Animal Control?”

  Lance scratched the back of his neck. Up on the televi­sion, one of the actresses was in a heated argument with an actor and out of nowhere began slapping him silly. Lance was tempted to turn up the sound. “Well, I turned up one guy, Eddie Dolan, who seems a bit strange, but I usually have a feeling about people and he just doesn’t do it for me.”

  Julie looked at Lance suspiciously. “I don’t understand.”

  Lance shrugged. “I don’t expect you to; it’s a personal thing.”

  “Tell me about him anyway.”

  Lance thought back to his trip earlier in the day. “I get the impression that he’s very gung-ho when it comes to animal rights.”

  “You mean like an activist?”

  Lance grimaced at the description. “I wouldn’t call him an activist, really. I just think that the man has strong beliefs, that’s all.”

  “What would be his motivation?”

  Lance shrugged again. “That’s just it. I can’t find any. The only connection I have is that the Peters-Smythe woman and Crystal both returned animals there. I don’t think that would be enough to send anyone over the edge to commit homicide; he kills hundreds of animals a year. If that was the case, we wouldn’t need street lights at night; we could find our way home by following all of the burning bodies! It takes an unbalanced personality to go that last step to murder, and I just don’t feel that this Dolan character is capable of crossing that fine line.”