With my eyes closed, the room’s spinning decreased to the speed of a slow carousel. I waited, breathing deeply, trying to calm my racing heart, but it wouldn’t settle down. So I tried to get to the bedroom and lie down, but that didn’t work. As soon as I stood and walked five steps, I passed out and fell to the floor.
I must have been out cold for half an hour, but it could have been a minute or two. I had no idea. I was able to crawl slowly, and then stagger, and then crawl again to the bed and slowly lift myself enough to lie down sideways on the mattress. The room was spinning out of control as I closed my eyes again and tried to calm myself. Instead, I threw up in the bed and passed out once more.
The ringing of the phone scared me as if someone had stabbed me awake. I looked around the revolving room and saw that my cell phone was on the nightstand. I hit the button and tried to speak, but only gibberish came forth, and I blacked out again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The killer’s face was indistinguishable as I watched him stabbing the screaming girl. There was blood all over the girl’s face, glasses, hair, and neck, and her clothes were torn. The man was viciously and repeatedly slashing at the girl without any hesitation like a robot programmed to slice a side of beef. The girl slumped to the ground, apparently dead. She had glasses and long hair that I couldn’t tell the color.
Even as I slept, somehow I knew it was a dream; still, I tried to notice the man’s features. All I could see was a big man of stocky build wearing an overcoat or raincoat, and he was stabbing the girl with a long butcher-style knife. I could make out nothing further amid the dark of night.
It was apparent that the dream was a reenactment of one of the murders from 1923. I knew this, and remarkably, I was very calm, as if I were watching an old movie. I knew I could do nothing to change the outcome. Still, I needed to see more, to study every detail I was being shown.
Off in the distance was another young woman, someone who, like me, was just a distant observer. She was attractive, in her twenties, with long curly hair, and she just stood there staring at the scene. I knew this had to be Lolita when she looked in my direction. The scene was frozen in time. The man held the knife straight up in the air, completely still. The girl sprawled unevenly on the ground. Lolita looked as if she were staring at something special, like she was trying to tell me something.
I studied it all over again, looking for any telltale signs, anything unusual: shoes, hat, overcoat, hair—nothing, though Lolita’s eyes didn’t move. Finally, I saw it. I saw what Lolita was trying to get me to look at. It was a ring on the middle finger of the man’s right hand—not a normal ring, but rather a very large ring. But what was strange was that that large ring was in the shape of a lion’s head. As soon as I noticed the ring, its size, and its shape, Lolita looked my way as if to say, “It’s about time!” And at that precise moment, the movie-like dream came screeching to a halt.
The light entered my eyes ever so slowly as I blinked a few times. I felt stoned, like I had been on an all-night binge, and my head was tapping out a very loud drumbeat. When I realized where I was, I recognized the doctor. It was Dr. Samuel Frederickson, and, somehow, I was once again occupying a bed at the Washington County Hospital.
“There you are,” the doctor said.
“Is this a dream?” I asked, dumbfounded. I kind of realized it wasn’t, but still didn’t quite know for sure.
“No. This is live and in color, my friend. How do you feel?” He studied my face.
“Like a train ran me over,” I said weakly.
“You’ll feel better shortly. Do you know what happened to you?” the doctor asked patiently.
“I’m not sure, but I think I fainted, maybe from exhaustion.”
“You were helped tremendously with a dose of poison,” the doctor said, and his eyes focused long and hard on mine.
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
“Yes, Lou,” the doctor said with a wry smile. “It was some strong stuff!”
Just then, I saw Captain Joel Krolm out of the corner of my eye as he walked through the door. His face was stern as he stared at the doctor, who just nodded in response.
“You cheated death again, Mr. Gerhani,” Krolm said, staring long and hard at me. He was clearly pissed.
“I . . . uh. . . .”
“It’s official. The poison used was thallium, an odorless, tasteless poison that is usually very deadly.”
“But how? Who?”
“It was Billy Blaine, at the hotel,” said the captain. “We have him on hotel surveillance. He planted the water bottles, the poisoned ice, and the poison-rimmed glasses. It appears that you didn’t touch the ice, but you did drink a little from the poisoned glass. But he was counting on you using the ice. If you had, you would have died for sure. What saved you was a young woman, Felicia, who called 911 and informed us that something was terribly wrong.”
The captain was clearly pissed, though I didn’t know exactly why. Nor did I care. It could be because they had a shooter and would-be murderer still on the loose, which was a disgrace for his department. He also could have been pissed at me, as if everything was my fault. I was too groggy to care.
“Louis,” the doctor said, “you are going to be fine. Once you were picked up by the ambulance, they administered intravenous drugs right away, and we suspected some kind of drugging. We quickly tested the blood and found thallium, a very powerful compound that, as the captain touched on, usually kills its victims. You consumed too little to kill you quickly, which gave us time to administer the proper drugs needed. We also sedated you heavily for several hours, giving your body a chance to clear out the poison. You are very fortunate. It seems you are like a cat with nine lives. Thank God you’re young.
“And yes, the captain was correct in the fact that the lady friend was sharp enough to realize that you were not yourself, and called 911 for assistance. If perhaps a few more hours had elapsed, your organs would have shut down one after the other, and you would not have been able to survive.”
“That poison is that potent?”
“Louis, it is indistinguishable to someone ingesting it, so you have no clue that you have been poisoned until it is too late. It also takes such a minute amount to do someone in. Your only saving grace is that you didn’t take any ice,” the doctor said.
“Right. I have a sensitivity problem with ice.”
“Again, your ass was spared,” the captain said.
“I guess I have friends in high places.” I managed to produce a weak smile.
“Well, not in Hagerstown, my friend. Someone wants you dead in a fierce way, and a quick and painful death at that. You are just too gullible or stupid to get the message.”
“Captain, I’m sorry, but I’ve got a job to do here. My ass is on the line.”
“Yeah?” he snapped with a fierce glare. “Your ass will be going for a one-way trip in a hearse if you hang around!”
“I’m not leaving,” I said, and I looked the captain square in the eyes. “I’ll leave when my story is complete. I do believe that Billy Blaine, or someone with him, is spooked by my investigation into the murders. And also, my interviewing Lolita is rubbing someone all wrong. I’m convinced there is some tie-in to the 1923 murders and Lolita.”
“Are you implying that Lolita has some knowledge about the murders or the killer responsible?”
“Captain, with all due respect, I have had more action in a couple of days than your department has had in decades.”
“Listen, you little . . .”
“Okay, gentlemen, I think Louis needs some rest right now,” the doctor said, and he put his hand on the captain’s back and steered him toward the doorway.
“One second, Dr. Frederickson,” Captain Krolm snapped. “Louis, since you won’t heed my warnings, I am assigning my best officer to watch your every move. From now on, consider Sergeant Thomas Pawler your permanent shadow. He will report to me on your every move. So, have a nice stay in our fair town of Hagerstown
.!” he said as he headed out the door.
“Great! That hammerhead!” I snapped.
“I heard that!” the captain said, leaning around the doorframe. “Still not going to change anything.” His voice trailed off.
Dr. Frederickson smiled nervously at me. It was clear that he was uncomfortable with the exchanges between the captain and me, but was mostly concerned about my overall health.
“Doctor, when can I blow this joint?” I asked.
“Well, you can blow this fine establishment in a few hours if all your new blood work comes back negative for toxins and infections.”
“Infections?”
“Yes, you see, that poison wreaked havoc on your immune system, and we have to monitor the blood carefully. I’m betting that all is back to normal, but your liver functions were through the roof on the results of the first blood work. So just relax, enjoy our gourmet breakfast, and we’ll try to get you out of this joint by around ten thirty.” He laughed good-naturedly.
“Thanks for everything, Doc. But that breakfast you serve may be more potent than the thallium!”
“Funny! I have to remember that one. Oh, by the way, there is a young lady who is patiently waiting to see you. She’s been waiting for a couple of hours. I’ll let her in now. See you in a little bit, Louis.”
Within two minutes, Felicia entered the room, and I swear the entire room got brighter. She was absolutely beautiful in her nursing uniform. I used to fantasize about a gorgeous woman dressed in a nurse’s costume, but, of course, she would always slowly strip. But that’s another story for another time. Maybe it’s the white pants or the pure white shoes they wear, but I find something sexy about nurses in general.
As she came closer, I had no problem this time looking deep into her sparkly gray eyes. Felicia was smiling as she said, “What, are you trying out for the next Superman movie? First the gas station shooting, then the police precinct shooting, then the wrestling match with an oncoming car, and now poison?”
“Someone up there likes me, I guess. Not too many friends here in Hagerstown, though!”
“You have one right here,” she said, and she walked closer to my bed.
I stared long and eagerly at her ruby-red lips as she bent slowly toward me, looking tenderly into my eyes. She moved closer to me, and then closer still.
A fabulous tingling feeling came over me as we almost touched lips. Suddenly, I was startled when I heard, “Son of a bitch! I can’t believe you are still breathing!”
I turned quickly to see Sergeant Thomas Pawler glaring at me.
Great! What timing. I’m about to make the move of my life with Felicia, and this lug-head macho-man has to ruin it all.
“Get used to it, Professor, I’m your new shadow. I got orders to keep you alive, although I don’t know why. You keep barking up trees that hold grizzly bears.”
“Nice to see you, too,” I said. “Felicia, this is Sergeant Pawler. Sergeant, this is Felicia, from the nursing home.”
“I heard. She saved your sorry ass, huh, buddy?”
“Would you believe?”
“He is very lucky, isn’t he?” Felicia asked.
The sergeant looked Felicia up and down then said, “Lucky is the operative word, my dear!”
Taking a hint from the way I was glaring at him, Pawler slowly withdrew from the room. “I’ll be right outside the door, bud. Your prison food is here,” he said with a sinister laugh.
It was too late. The look on his face and the sound of his voice had destroyed the moment between Felicia and me. It was replaced with cold scrambled eggs, wheat toast, and piss-tasting coffee.
I could eat nothing but a few bites as my appetite hadn’t returned and the food turned my stomach. I wanted nothing more than to leave the hospital and get back to the work at hand.
Felicia had to get to work, so we said our goodbyes as two nurses’ aides were futzing around my hospital room. I was still set to see Lolita at one that afternoon. Felicia said she would be there along with Lolita and Mr. Roberts. I reminded her that I was going to run to the farm to pick up that fresh-made ice cream for Lolita.
Dr. Frederickson returned and asked why I hadn’t touched my breakfast. I asked him, “Did you ever taste this slop?”
“No, can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”
“I’ve seen dog food more appetizing than this food!” I laughed.
By ten o’clock, I had received my release and was hugging my newfound friend, Dr. Frederickson.
Sergeant Pawler, my sarcastic, arrogant, and reluctant chaperone, wheeled me out of the hospital to his police cruiser. He was working his shift with me alone. We sat in the car and spoke for a while.
“I had a conversation with your boss, Harold Glavin,” Pawler said. “He didn’t sound upset that you got poisoned.” He laughed. “Sounds to me like he wishes he had beaten Billy Blaine to the punch. What the hell did you do to that man?” He smirked.
“Glavin’s just pissed at the whole world. I’m just a punching bag for him. I think if I was knocked off, he would actually cry.”
“Sounds like he’d cry for joy, bud,” Pawler snapped.
“You could be right. His assistant is a real bitch.”
We spoke about my schedule for the day—going to the farm for ice cream and returning to the nursing home to talk with Miss Lolita again.
“Your car is at the hotel?”
“I’m in the back parking lot.”
“Well, I will be following you to the farm.”
“Come on, now . . . .”
“Don’t even try that crap! I’ll be following you everywhere. Don’t you understand that someone wants you out of the way? They think you know something valuable, though I don’t think you know anything useful. Someone will stop at nothing to eliminate you. We know Billy Blaine is involved, but we are sure someone else is involved. And so far we have no leads as to Blaine’s whereabouts.”
“Sergeant, who is this Billy Blaine character?” I asked.
“Blaine is a young career criminal. All small stuff—assault and battery, larceny, harassment, stalking—but never any killing. No ties between him and Hagerstown at all. He’s been in and out of prison since the age of seventeen, never holds down a job, but he never shot up a gas station and a police officer before. So, he’s now graduated to a new level of threat and is armed and extremely dangerous.
“Why me?”
“Well, he clearly thinks you have leads on the murders of 1923, and he is either protecting someone connected to the murders, or someone hired him to take you out. Keep in mind that he isn’t just trying to spook you; he wants you six feet under. And remember, Felicia may also be a target, and anyone else you chum up with until you come to your senses and leave us all alone in our normally boring little town. Either you are very stupid or you want to be a front-page martyr in your own newspaper. But stop risking other people’s lives in Hagerstown.”
“I’ll be gone soon, Sarge.”
“Maybe in a body bag.” He laughed coldly.
“Well, right now I want to get on the road to the farm if it’s all right with you.”
“Not so fast, bubba. We have to look that car of yours over real well before you take off in it.”
“What?”
“You heard me right. To a killer, that car could be an extended weapon, a way for them to murder you without touching you directly.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I didn’t think so. I’ll explain on the way.”
The sergeant told me that killers can rig a car to blow up when the ignition switch is activated.
“Okay, my car is right in back of the hotel, in the parking lot. It’s the red Malibu late model with some damage on the bumper.”
“Oh, you’re a drunk driver, too?”
“Not exactly, though I do drink a little too much. No, I got rear-ended by a Lincoln Navigator the other day.”
“So you’re one of those heavy-footed brake drivers?”
“You think I stopped short and caused my own accident? What, are you crazy?” I yelled, now frustrated.
The sergeant made his way over to my car and got under it to look around. He walked all around the car, noticing the damage from the accident, then looked me up and down, sizing me up.
“Okay, it was my fault, the accident.” I laughed.
He squinted at me then moved on. For a solid five minutes, he inspected my car, opening the doors, looking inside and under the seats. He popped the hood and looked at everything inside.
“See, I told you everything is fine, Sergeant,” I said. “Who wants to screw around with a Chevy Malibu?”
The sergeant promptly radioed in a request for a tow truck to pick up the car.
“Hold on there, Sergeant Pawler. You can’t do that!”
“Oh, please excuse me, Mr. Gerhani,” he said sarcastically. “Listen here, Gerhani, I am ordered by Captain Krolm to keep your ass safe. It’s not something I want to do, but I must. So, until you take your sorry ass out of my town and go back to the most corrupt city in the world, you’re stuck with me. Get it?” he snarled.
“Oh, I got it, all right.”
In five minutes, the tow truck pulled up. It was Wally from the station that I was at the other day when Billy Blaine went on his shooting spree.
“Are you in trouble again?” Wally joked. “What, are you stuck?”
Pawler took control of the conversation, and Wally quickly attached my car to the lift on the tow truck.
“Sergeant, I’ll give it a good going-over back at the shop. We’ll see if anything is out of whack,” Wally said.
We drove behind Wally back to the station, where he had my car up on the lift within a few minutes. The station was relatively empty except for the occasional gas customer passing through. It was nice to see that Brian Fawlta, the gas station attendant, had returned to work. He told me that he was back to normal except for a large bump on the back of his head that was taking its time to go away.
Defying Death in Hagerstown Page 11