by Tim McGregor
“There was very real risk that you might have slipped into a coma. But here you are, awake and lucid. Good.”
It wasn’t a joke. The room felt colder. “The nurse said I drowned.”
“The first attempt to revive you wasn’t succesful. You weren’t breathing. It wasn’t until the paramedics arrived that you were resuscitated. You were brought here. Stable condition but unconscious.”
“Resuscitated? You mean, like not breathing or anything?”
“Yes. I don’t like to tell people this but you were officially dead for almost two minutes.”
For a second time Billie thought her leg was being pulled but the grim look on the doctor’s face negated that notion. The flesh on the back of her arms goosed into pimples at the idea of being dead. It was hard enough comprehending that she’d been unconscious for three days but dead too? That seemed ludicrous.
“Can I go home?” The moment she asked the question she thought of the patient who was just here. Bleeding and wanting to go home.
The doctor patted her arm. “We’re going to hang on to you for one more night. Just for observation. With head injuries like this, you can never be too sure.”
She sank further into the bed at the thought of being kept another night. She turned her eyes to the bedside table. “Is there a phone I can use?”
“Sure. You have some visitors here. Out in the waiting room. I think one of them said she was your aunt.”
~
“So you’ve been at the apartment this whole time?”
“I certainly wasn’t going to stay in a hotel,” aunt Maggie harrumphed. “The prices they charge? I remembered where your spare key is hidden.”
Settled into a chair alongside the bed, Maggie fiddled with the crumpled tissue used to dab away her tears. They had streamed steadily the moment she learnt Billie was awake and poured forth stronger when she laid eyes on the girl in the hospital bed.
Billie shifted upright, sitting cross-legged in the narrow bed. A touch of dizziness lingered and details kept slipping away the second she’d heard them. “Wait. So, Tammy called you?”
“Jen. Tammy didn’t have my number but she knew Jen would. I came straight away.” The tissue was balled into a tight orb in Maggie’s hand. She tossed it at the wastebasket but missed. “I’ve never made the trip into the city so fast. I’m surprised I wasn’t pulled over.”
“Must have been a shock, getting a phone call like that. I’m sorry.”
“I’m just glad you’re all right.” Maggie plucked another tissue from the box. “So, between the girls and myself, we’ve managed to keep vigil here. We didn’t want you to wake up alone.”
“They’ve been here too? Jen and Tammy?”
“Kaitlin too. We took turns so one of us was here at all times.”
Billie fell silent. The thought of her friends and aunt sitting here in the room made her want to cry. “Wow,” was all she could say.
“You seemed surprised,” Maggie said. “People care about you, sweetheart.”
“Pass that over, would you?” Taking the tissue from her aunt, she shook off the tears. They made the dizziness worse.
“There was a man here too. He asked that I call him the minute you woke up.”
Gantry was her first thought. “Tall guy? English?”
“No,” Maggie said. “He said he was a police officer.”
Timing can be everything. A knock on the door turned their heads. A man stood politely in the doorway. “Miss Culpepper?”
It took a moment for Billie to realize that the man was addressing her and not her aunt. “Yes?”
Maggie got to her feet and smiled at the visitor. “You got my message?”
“Yes,” he said. “Thank you.”
“I’m going down to that awful cafeteria.” Her aunt turned to Billie. “Do you want anything, honey?”
“Iced tea?”
“You got it. Nice to see you again,” Maggie said to the man as she quit the room.
The air went still. The man lingered in the doorway. Finally, he said “I’m glad to see you up. Your aunt was quite worried about you.”
“You can come in,” she said as he stood there. “Do I know you?”
“No. We sort of met three days ago.”
She got a better look at him as he stepped inside the room. Thick boned and powerful looking but not overly-muscular. Rough looking in a way but not bad. His nose looked crooked, like it had been broken a long time ago. “My memory’s a little spotty right now,” she said.
His head dipped down a notch. “I knocked you into the water. Accidentally, of course. I’m the reason you’re in here.”
“Oh.” It was all she could think of to say. She tried to remember exactly what had happened but her memory was a confused jumble of images, none of which made sense. He didn’t look familiar to her at all.
“I’m sorry.” His eyes finally lifted from the floor to find hers. They were green. “Did the doctors tell you anything? Will you be all right?”
“They think so. Except for this lump on my skull.” Billie clutched at the sheet bunched in her lap. She felt suddenly vulnerable on this narrow bed, clad in a thin hospital smock. “So? You are?”
“Ray Mockler.” He strode in and offered his hand. “Hamilton P.D.”
She felt her back stiffen up as she shook his hand. An old habit kicking in. “You’re with the police?”
“Yeah. Detective, actually.” He caught her reaction, the alert wariness triggering her. A reaction he saw on a daily basis. “I was starting to worry about you.”
“You were?”
“Yeah. Second day and you still hadn’t woken up? I tend to flip to the worst case scenario. Coma, or worse.” He looked away again, as if avoiding her eyes. “Again, I’m really sorry I put you in here.”
“I’m fine. Really.” Billie forced her hands to be still. “So what happened? Why did you knock me into the drink?”
“I was trying to apprehend the man you were talking to. Is he a friend of yours?”
“Gantry?” Something clicked. Her initial wariness of the police officer paid off. “So that’s why you’re here. Because of him?”
“I needed to know if you were okay,” he said. “If there was anything I could do.”
She took a second look at him. He seemed sincere but she found herself focusing on that bent nose again. He must have had it broken. “Why are you after Gantry?”
“He’s a suspect. Dangerous one too. How do you know him?”
“I don’t,” she shrugged. “He came into the bar where I work, started talking to me. Then he showed up at the party down at the harbour.”
Detective Mockler scratched his chin, listening. “Was he trying to pick you up?”
“That’s what I thought at first but no. I don’t think so.” She tried to remember her conversation with the weirdo but everything seemed scrambled up. “I don’t know what he wants.”
“What did you talk about at the party?”
Billie shook her head. “It’s all foggy. He said he had something to tell me.”
“Which was?”
“I think that’s when you barged in.” She rubbed her eyes, the earlier dizziness rushing back in. “I need to lie down.”
“Sure.” His demeanour flipped. The cop mask dropped away. He came forward to settle her pillow back into place. “Get some rest. Listen, I’m gonna leave my card here on the table. If you think of anything else, will you call me? No matter what it is. No detail’s too small.”
“Okay.” Her head hit the pillow and fatigue dragged her down like an anchor.
The detective lingered for a moment, as if there was something more to be done or said. He finally turned to leave. “Get well,” he said.
“Hey,” Billie said.
“Yeah?”
“What’s Gantry wanted for? I mean, what did he do?”
“Murder,” Detective Mockler said. “He killed two women.”
He stepped into the hall and Billie
listened to his footfalls drift away, unsure that she had heard him correctly.
7
“GUYS, THIS ISN’T necessary.”
“Shush,” Jen scolded as she unlocked Billie’s apartment door. “This is no time to play the martyr.”
Billie relented. She thought it was overkill for Jen, Tammy and aunt Maggie to see her home. She absolutely hated to be fussed over, loathed to be anyone’s object of sympathy. She’d had a lifetime’s worth of that when her mother had disappeared and she wanted no more. Still, when her vertigo crested on the stairs she was grateful someone was there to catch her fall.
Stepping into the small one bedroom she called home, Billie felt her stomach drop. The place was immaculate. In the three years she had lived here, she had never seen it so clean. There were flowers too. A simple clutch of bluebells dropped into the only vase she owned. “Maggie, you didn’t have to clean up.”
“I was here for three days,” Maggie said. “What else was I going to do?”
Tammy dropped Billie’s bag inside the door. “All this time I thought this was a dump, turns out it just needed a good scrub. Hey Mags, wanna come live with me for three days?”
“You get knocked cold, I’ll see what I can do.” Maggie moved on into the kitchen. “Are you girls hungry?”
Billie winced. “We can order in. I got nothing here.”
“You have plenty,” Maggie insisted. “I can whip up that nacho platter you girls like. Billie you must be starved.”
“Maggie, tell me you didn’t.” Billie limped forward and swung the refrigerator door open. Rather than the bare racks of condiments and crusty takeout cartons Billie normally kept cold, her fridge was stocked with food. “You didn’t have to buy me groceries too.”
“What was I supposed to live on; ketchup packets and Corona?” Maggie bent at the waist to inspect the contents of the refrigerator. The interior bulb flickered on and off. “What can I make you before I head home?”
Billie tugged her aunt away from the fridge. “You’ve done more than enough. You’re not going home now, are you?”
“If I leave now, I can make it home before sunset.” Maggie hated the drive between her house and her niece’s squalid flat. Even more so in the dark.
“Stay one more night,” Billie pleaded. “We can watch a movie.”
“I’ve been away long enough.” Maggie cast her eye to the other two women in the room. “One of you is staying here tonight?”
Jen put her hand up, like the good student she’d always been. “I am. Tammy’s gotta work.”
“Okay. Give me a call in the morning.” Maggie squeezed her niece one more time before collecting her bag and heading back out the door. “You gave me a real scare, honey. I’m glad to see you back among the living.”
Billie watched her aunt hustle out to the stairwell, wondering what she would ever do without her.
~
“I bumped into Ryan yesterday,” Jen said as she settled into the small table in the kitchen. “I told him you were in the hospital.”
“Oh?” Billie stood at the counter, chopping black olives. “Why did you tell him?”
Jen folded her hands on the table. “I thought he should know.”
“What did he say?”
“He pretended to care,” Jen said. “Said he’d drop by to see you. Then took off without asking which hospital you were at.”
Billie nodded glumly. “That would have required effort on his part.”
“What an asshole,” Tammy concluded.
Since they had broken up three months ago, Billie’s ex-beau had become a convenient topic of conversation. “Oh, don’t be too hard on him. It’s hard for him to think about anyone but himself.”
Tammy stood and came alongside Billie at the cramped counter. “Bee, why are you doing that? Go sit. We’ll make the grub.”
“You?”
“I can cook.” Tammy mocked being offended. “A few things anyway. Go sit.”
Billie shooed her away. “I’ve been on my back for three days. Need to move my limbs.” The mention of her aunt’s nachos put her in the mood for it. A staple of their getaway stays at Maggie’s house, it was comfort food and comfort was what she wanted right now. Plus it was dead easy to make. “So where did you run into Ryan?”
“He came by to see the shop.”
Sliding the tray into the oven, Billie aimed for nonchalance. “Oh. Is he seeing anyone?”
“He was with someone but I didn’t ask.”
“Who cares?” interrupted Tammy. “Good riddance to bad rubbish. Move on, Billie.”
“Just curious is all.”
Jen snapped her fingers. “That reminds me. I know someone you should meet.”
Tammy groaned. “Don’t even go there, Jen.”
“What? He’s a really nice guy.” Jen dismissed her friend’s negativity and appealed to Billie. “A graphic designer. Remember Ted from the Meridian? He works with him. I think you’d like him.”
Despite herself, Billie asked “What’s he like?”
Tammy rolled her eyes. “Billie, don’t fall for it.”
“He’s nice,” Jen said, trumping her friend’s protest. “Sweet too. Big into volunteering.”
Tammy’s hands shot up. “I rest my case.”
Billie raised an eyebrow on her photographer friend. “Do you know him?”
“Being set up is a waste of time. It never works. It has to happen on its own.” Tammy swung the fridge door opened and peered inside. “And don’t even get me started on ‘nice guys’. Puke.”
Jen sneered at that. “You have to be practical about it. Set parameters, have a goal. Otherwise you’re just wasting time with loser after loser.”
“Jennifer,” Tammy laughed. “Only you could make romance as boring as looking for a job.”
“And if you wait for it to happen, it never will. That’s all I’m saying.”
The debaters settled into the dust of a deadlock and both looked up at Billie for the tie breaker. As usual, Billie floundered at dropping the gavel on a decision. “I think you’re both off your collective rockers.”
“Typical Billie.” Tammy scrounged into the fridge. “Why don’t you have anything to drink in here?”
Jen bobbed her head up. “Who was that guy hanging around the hospital? The one asking about you?”
“He’s the guy who knocked me into the drink,” Billie shrugged. “He’s a cop.”
Tammy interjected. “He’s also the guy who fished you out of the drink. He saved your life.”
Billie straightened up. “I thought you pulled me out?”
“He beat me to it. Dove in like a shot after you. He musta been a lifeguard at one time.”
“Oh.” Billie pulled the window open to get some air but the old sash only went up half a foot before sticking. Tammy’s news didn’t sit right with her, about detective Mockler saving her life. He’d said he had felt responsible for putting her in the hospital but now she owed him her life. Who wanted a debt like that?
“Charming,” said Jen. Then, with a skein of sarcasm levelled in Tammy’s direction she said, “Maybe he’s single.”
“She can do better than that,” Tammy gave back.
“You know I’m standing right here,” Billie said, annoyed that these two geniuses at romance were going to fix her love life for her.
“Hey, chief.” Tammy nodded at the oven. “Put out the fire, would ya?”
Smoke billowed from the faulty door of the old oven. Billie shrieked and yanked it open, spilling more foul smoke into the kitchen. Using a dishtowel to lift out the hot tray, Billie flung the smoking mess of nachos into the sink and ran the water. The stink of wet ash added to the noxious smoke, all three women waving their hands about to clear the air.
Billie regarded the blackened, soggy mash in the sink. “Jesus. I can’t even do this right!”
“Don’t sweat it.” Jen opened the fridge, ready to make lemonade from the situation. “We’ll fix up something else.”
Billie thought back to Gantry and what the detective had told her about the slippery Brit. A reticence to answer her friend was inexplicable but sudden. “He didn’t say.”
“You should sue,” Tammy huffed. “Make off with a big settlement. Maybe next time the big galoot will look where he’s going.”
After Tammy left, they cleaned up the mess in the kitchen then withdrew to the couch to gab for a while. An hour later, Jen had drifted off under a blanket while Billie flicked through channel after channel of unwatchable dreck before settling on the local news. The news anchor droned on in a monotone but nothing of what he said filtered through. Billie tried to gather up the broken fragments of memory to piece back together. Little of it made no sense.
What had Gantry been going on about? It felt important but the memory of his words slipped away like shy ponies every time she closed in on them. She retrieved her laptop and settled back onto the sofa without waking Jen. Typing Gantry’s name into a Google screen came back with nothing useful. A few hits on Facebook but these John Gantry’s were in the States. One in France too.
She added the terms British citizen and murder and wanted suspect to his name but the results were nonsensical and without meaning. Adding the term Interpol made no difference. The man was a ghost.
Closing the laptop, she contemplated going to bed but didn’t want to be alone. The blanket Jen was huddled under was big enough for both of them. She burrowed under it and closed her eyes.
8
TASK ROOM THREE had sat unused in the Division One building for weeks now and Mockler didn’t foresee it being needed anytime soon. His superior, Staff Sergeant Gibson wasn’t due back in the office until tomorrow. That gave him enough time to plant roots and gear up. By the time Gibson returned, he’d have the cold file warmed up and she might let him keep the task room. If he was really lucky, she might even be swayed enough to grant some extra manpower.
He shook his watch loose from the sweaty cling to his wrist and checked the time. It was after shift change, when the day team moved out and the graveyard shift settled in. Hustling down to the evidence room, he signed out the boxes he needed and lugged the stash back up to the unused task room in a hurry. No one paid him any mind.