Chasing the Ghost

by Bob Mayer

  “What do you mean?”

  Porter glanced at him. “Don’t act stupid. First the shooting of that deputy with the call originating from here. Then the murder of Mrs. Stevens. Then last night. I don’t see any connection at all between the three. But something fucking weird is going on. Maybe it’s the weather. Maybe it’s just the town. Maybe it’s just a bad spirit.”

  Chase was startled by the last one as it echoed the feeling he’d had in Wyoming and at Rachel’s crime scene.

  Porter came to a halt on the bridge, looking down at the torrent of water from the spring thaw. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” Chase said. “I don’t see any connection either.” Except a slight one between the Barnes and the Patriots with the type of round, but that was very slight and he saw no reason to mention that to Porter. “I’m not really a cop, Ben. You know that. I’m doing the best I can. Hell, I’m going back to Doctor Stevens because Sylvie suggested it.”

  Porter nodded. “It takes a woman to know a woman. I’ve got no problem with it, Chase. I was a little worried when they assigned me to partner with you. But you’re doing all right. I’m worried now about you as a person.”

  “I’m all right.”

  “You like being a cop?”

  Chase blinked. “What?”

  “You like being a cop?” Porter repeated.

  “I like helping people.”

  Porter nodded. “Yeah. Me too. But you have—“ he paused, searching for words—“a wicked edge to you. I don’t know how else to say it. What you did last night. I couldn’t do that. No one else in this department could do it.”

  “Someone has to do it.”

  “Yeah,” Porter agreed. “But do you want to do it?”

  “It’s the job,” Chase said.

  “But you choose the job.” Porter seemed to be searching for words. “Being a cop isn’t being a soldier. In the army you followed orders. Here you follow the law.”

  “Same thing.”

  “No.” Porter shook his head. “Donnelly might be an asshole, but he doesn’t decide what right or wrong is or what the law is. Same with the chief and the DA. They decide policy, but not law.”

  Chase was trying to follow where Porter was going. “My commanders in the army didn’t decide who we went to war against.”

  Porter sighed. “I don’t know what exactly I’m trying to say, Chase. But there’s a line and I feel like it’s getting blurry. I believe in the law. It only fails when the people who are responsible for enforcing it fail.” He slapped Chase on the back. “Let’s figure out who killed Mrs. Stevens. All right?”

  Chase nodded. He felt a chasm opening between his partner and himself and he didn’t have the energy to bridge it and he wasn’t even sure what the chasm was. “That’s the idea.”

  * * * * *

  Lisa Plunkett gave Chase a tentative smile when he came in the door. She was nicely dressed in an outfit that definitely showed off her figure. She ushered Chase straight into Doctor Stevens’ office. He was looking better. Rachel had been buried yesterday and maybe that had helped. Chase caught the look Lisa gave him as she closed the door and Chase had little doubt that when the doctor came out of his bereavement, he'd find someone waiting in the wings. According to Porter she was already on stage with him.

  Chase didn't know why he was being so suspicious of every little look, but the doctor, despite an airtight alibi, was high on Porter’s list of possibilities and he trusted his partner. A person could hire some bozo from Denver to whack someone for a couple of hundred bucks. Stevens had more than a couple of hundred. Maybe he really had known that his wife was up to some funny stuff every third Wednesday and he had known what it was.

  Chase questioned the doctor hard, much harder than Porter had before. Chase was pushing not only for background on Rachel, but to see if he squirmed any. Chase rode out the doctor’s irritation with the questioning. He probed the doctor first about himself, checking out his alibi and his marriage with Rachel. He knew he wasn’t being tactful, but he figured that was why Porter had let him come here alone. Porter envisioned himself the velvet glove of questioning while Chase was the blunt object.

  Chase hadn't caught Stevens on anything after fifteen minutes of questioning so he switched over to Rachel. As far as Stevens could recollect she hadn't been gone on any sort of schedule, third Wednesday or not, prior to going to school.

  "Why'd she go to school then?"

  Stevens must have been doing some remembering on his own because he could dredge up more now. "About two and a half, maybe three years ago, she started acting restless. She never really talked about it, but I could tell she wasn't happy. Rachel was a very intelligent, complex woman. I tried to understand, but as you can see my work takes most of the hours in my day."

  He was looking over Chase’s head as if what he was saying was written up there on the wall. "It's funny, but now I think she was the happiest when we were first married and times were hard. I was still a resident and we didn't have a dime. She was working as a receptionist for an optician, keeping us afloat. Then, when my practice was new and she was helping out here in the office, it took all her time just to keep everything running here and at home."

  His eyes slid down and met Chase’s. "I've been thinking about this a lot, detective, and I believe that Rachel had a hard time coping with her life once things got easier for her on the outside and she didn’t have to work here or even at home."

  It didn't sound like such an exciting life to Chase either, waiting around a house that had a full-time maid, for some husband who had such a good-looking secretary to come home. Stevens was starting to stare off into lala land again, and Chase was afraid he was losing him. His next words confirmed that.

  "Did I tell you how Rachel and I met?"

  Chase assured him he hadn't and checked his watch, hoping he wasn't missing something. Porter had probably tripped over the killers somewhere and was in the middle of a raging gun battle while Chase was here getting Stevens’ version of love story.

  "I was in the residency program at the university medical school and Rachel was a junior in the psych program. I was working in the clinic the day she came in. She was beautiful, I mean really beautiful." Looking at the picture over his shoulder Chase couldn't argue with that.

  "But that wasn't the thing that struck me most. She was so strong and determined, as if she had this plan worked out to the smallest detail. She was the first coed who came in there and treated me like just another human being. Another equal. That was so refreshing after all my previous experiences with women looking at me as a prospective meal ticket. I think I fell in love with her that day."

  Chase stared at Stevens without comment. The doctor went on without being prompted.

  "She had come to the clinic for a diaphragm. Pretty funny right? My future wife coming to see me for birth control? The weird thing was that when I examined her, she was still a virgin. I asked her about that because it's difficult to fit a diaphragm for a woman who isn't sexually active. She gave me a matter-of-fact look and said of course she was a virgin, she didn't have any contraception yet. I was pretty impressed with that. You know, I saw so many pregnant students lamenting their fate that it really struck me how bright and efficient Rachel was."

  Chase asked how soon had they gotten married. Stevens looked a little surprised that Chase had broken into his memories.

  "It took me two months just to get a date with her," he said. "I pursued her for that entire time. It was hard with my schedule and hers. She was taking a heavy load and doing very well. She was less inclined than I to marry, but I guess I was persistent. Who wouldn't have been? She was smart, pretty, everything I was looking for. On top of that she was the most sexually responsive woman I had ever been with."

  This last remark caught Chase off guard, and if Stevens felt it was out of place he didn't show it.

  "Detective, you don't know how much thought I've put into this. What makes it so damn frustrating i
s the fact that if Rachel and I had ever talked about this, maybe she would be alive. But I was selfish; my time was valuable and we always spoke of Rachel's needs in the vaguest of terms."

  What the hell was he talking about? Chase wondered. What needs? He hated to interrupt, but this was not in his area of expertise. And what had the doctor meant by her still being alive if they had talked and her being so sexual? "Do you think she was having an affair?"

  The doctor’s eyes narrowed and he gave Chase a look usually reserved for something smeared on the bottom of a shoe. Not a good question apparently from his perspective, but it seemed logical from Chase’s.

  "I know this is difficult for you, Detective Chase, but not every unhappy woman is looking for sex."

  Chase tried to remember what Linda Watkins had said when he asked her the same question. She had said something about Rachel not being centered on a man, but rather being centered on herself. But Chase would have to think about it later because the good doctor had more to say.

  "Rachel was different. She had a very strong idea of what she wanted. Her image of herself was constantly at odds with what society intended. For the most part she could handle that pressure. The only time she let another human being influence her actions was when she married me. Her youth, combined with my insistence, caused her to conform."

  He shook his head. "Hell, it scares me now to think why I wanted her so much. I have the horrible notion that I did her an injustice. Her virginity meant a lot to me, and I suppose at that time I was such an egoist that I believed she felt the same."

  For a moment there, Chase thought that if he just let Stevens talk long enough he would confess. In a way, Chase realized, Stevens was confessing. Even if Jeffrey Stevens hadn't slit Rachel's throat, he was smart enough to realize that she wouldn't have been in that parking lot at CU last Wednesday night if he hadn't wanted her so badly so many years ago.

  Suddenly Chase realized that he was experiencing that most dreadful of human conditions: understanding another human being when it was too damn late to do anything about it. If Rachel had just run off, Stevens could have gone to her with his new awareness and maybe hashed it out, but he had screwed himself with the silent sort of indifference that pervades most relationships and there was no going back, or forward. Chase felt a little sorry for Lisa Plunkett. She would be playing second fiddle to a dead woman for a long time.

  Chase checked his watch. He still had to see Gavin and this discussion was depressing him. Stevens finally broke the silence. "I gave her the only thing I could: freedom. That was the reason she married me. I never tried to tame her; to make her fit a mold that wasn't hers. Didn’t even push her about children. But ultimately I let her down, because I left her to fend for herself. She just seemed so strong and capable, never threatened by anyone. It never occurred to me to worry about her."

  Chase noticed that tears were streaming down Stevens face.

  "What hurts the worst is knowing that the freedom wasn't something I gave her out of love and respect. I just didn't have time to mess with who she was as a person. A nice epithet isn't it?"

  There wasn't a thing Chase could say. He still didn't have a clue where Rachel spent her last hours, but he was beginning to see her a little better.

  Chase’s time was getting short. Stevens didn't pay too much attention as Chase arranged to leave. Chase didn't even think he heard. Little Lisa was surprised with Chase’s fast exit, but seemed glad to be rid of him all the same. She slid in the office as Chase let himself out.

  Chase sat in the Jeep for a few minutes and made notes about the conversation. He had an idea that he had heard something important. He just didn't know what it was.

  Chase leaned back against the headrest. Who the hell were you Rachel Stevens? Chase’s next question was more personal. Why do I care so much? The answer came just as quickly-- because it was all he could do now. Chase didn’t know how much longer he was going to last in Boulder or with the FLI program. But he wanted to close this case out before the hammer came down.

  If Chase hadn't had an appointment with Gavin, he probably would have skipped going back to CU. It didn't seem important to check the attendance sheets now. Chase was pretty convinced that whatever Rachel was up to it wasn't an affair.

  Thankfully it was late enough in the afternoon to find a decent parking space on the campus. Chase retraced his steps and made it just in time to the psychologist's cramped office. He was hunched over his computer keyboard and he didn't pay much attention at first. Chase looked at the professor’s screen trying to see what he was typing, but only spotted a bunch of big words. Chase was surprised to see an open beer sitting on the desk.

  Gavin turned. "You look the worse for wear detective. The case is proving to be most complicated, I presume."

  No shit, Chase thought. The doctor didn’t know about the previous night-- it had been in the news, but Chase’s name had been kept out of it. "It’s a difficult case. It seems nobody knew Rachel Stevens, so you shouldn't worry that she fooled you too."

  Gavin gave Chase a slight grin. "I never said she fooled me. As a matter of fact, I think the woman who was my student was the real Rachel Stevens, and that person I knew quite well. Obviously her other life was the ruse."

  What a self-centered asshole, Chase thought. "How about we skip the linguistic technicalities and cut straight to the chase? Tell me about the woman you had in class." And make it fast, Chase thought. He wasn't in the mood for a lot of psychobabble.

  Gavin picked up the beer and took a sip. “Would you like one, detective?” He nodded toward a small fridge underneath a bookcase.

  “I’m on duty.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll take one.” Chase realized that the professor seemed a little drunk. Porter had said always treat potential witnesses like your best friend, not the enemy, a concept Chase had had a hard time swallowing.

  Gavin opened the fridge and took out a can. He tossed it to Chase. "You finally answered the question I asked during your previous visit."

  "What question was that?" Chase popped the top and waited.

  Gavin seemed a little hurt that his question wasn't sitting in Chase’s frontal lobe, anxiously awaiting this conversation. "I wanted to know which was more important in a case, the facts or the personalities."

  "Oh yeah, I remember. So what's the answer?"

  Gavin put down his beer and crossed his arms. Chase had had Psych 101 at West Point: Gavin’s body language said he was closing himself off. "It’s perfectly obvious. You're interested foremost in the facts, right?"

  This guy wanted Chase to coax it out of him, and Chase just didn't have the patience for that. "Tell me about her." Chase was surprised at the coldness in his voice and evidently so was Gavin. So much for Porter’s advice, Chase thought.

  Gavin’s tone let Chase know he'd pushed him too far. But Chase didn't care. Who did these people think they were? Chase thought. So far everyone he’d talked to about Rachel had given him a whole bunch of goobly-gook. No wonder she had some secret life; she spent too much time around egocentric assholes.

  Gavin slid something across the desk. "Here, detective. I found these a couple of days ago. I've also included the copies of the attendance roster for that class as you requested.”

  Chase looked at the folder. "What is this?"

  "Some assignments Rachel turned in while she was in my class. You seem to have reached the point where her personality has become important to your case. I think these papers will tell you more than I could."

  Now Chase knew why the good doctor was acting more confident about supposedly knowing Rachel when he hadn't even known she was married on the last visit.

  “I’ve been reading the newspapers,” Gavin said.

  “Good for you.”

  Gavin tilted the beer can up and drained it. He tossed it in a trashcan and rolled his chair over to the small fridge and pulled out another beer. He looked and Chase questionably.

  Chase shook his head. H
e’d barely sipped the one he had.

  “Tragic about that couple and the baby dying last night.”

  Chase stared at the shrink.

  “I would assume you were involved in that?”

  Chase didn’t react.

  Gavin nodded, as if he’d confirmed something. “You can detach, can’t you?”

  “’Detach’?”

  “Emotionally,” Gavin said. He took a drink of his beer. “I can feel it coming off you. Dissociative behavior. It’s a form of protection from psychological trauma. Repressed memories and—“

  “I remember everything I do,” Chase said, cutting off the on-the-fly diagnosis. He put the almost full beer down on Gavin’s desk. “Thank you for your time.” Chase took the papers and left.

  Chase’s nasty side hoped he found something that pointed to Gavin as a suspect, but a person could look at him and tell he wasn't strong enough to strangle his dick. Besides, the student had backed up his story when Porter had questioned her. Gavin had been tied up until 10:15 that night at the University and then home right off campus by 10:35 according to his wife. Not even enough time if he was very fast. And there was still the question of the other three guys who'd been in on the gang-bang.

  In the Jeep, Chase did a quick check of the attendance roster. There was no other student in Gavin's class who had missed all the same days Rachel had, never mind four of them. Of course there were numerous other classes at CU on Wednesday's at the same time and she might have been seeing someone from one of them, but right now Chase didn't have the time or resources to go off on that tangent. If Rachel had a lover it was just as likely he worked a day job and didn't have any commitments at night.

  * * * * *

  Porter was at his desk when Chase entered the major cases squad room, which was unusual. Chase collapsed into his chair, throwing the files onto the desk. "What's new?"

  Porter ran a hand through his sparse hair, finishing with a reassuring pat of his ponytail. "Got some more info on Doc Stevens."

  "What?"

  "I talked to enough people over there at the doctor's building to confirm that the Doc and his secretary were having an affair. Seems like several of the doctors have that sort of thing going with their secretaries or nurses. Big old Peyton Place."