“What in God’s name can it be?” Leonard grabbed the radio handset. “Moldofsky.” He leaned over and said to Kevin, “Keep your eyes peeled, will ya?”
Kevin nodded, peeking back at the building’s entrance. All was quiet.
It was the station calling. Fran to be precise--the afternoon station dispatch. Her trembling voice filtered through Leonard’s ears and his heart dropped at the message she relayed; he couldn’t believe what he was hearing on the other end of the radio. It didn’t make any sense! Or did it? When the reality of the matter set in, and rather quickly too, he yelled out, “Jesus Christ!”
The timing was uncanny. All of a sudden, as if his boisterous words had set off an alarm, people started running from the building. Arms waving. Screams. Mouths and eyes warped in a sweep of panic. One woman fell down on the sidewalk as others darted past.
“Len! Something’s going on!”
Leonard slammed the handset down, unholstered his gun and bolted from the car. Kevin immediately followed suit, grabbing his gun with one hand, relaying his location with the other.
“What is it, Len!? Is it Sparke!?” The fear Leonard saw on Kevin’s face as he rounded the car was evident, a man whose heart started performing calisthenics, sucking the blood from his features, drawing them taut. The reason why he’s scared, Leonard realized, is because his apprehension is built though uncertainty, of unknown causes. My own, conversely, is clear-cut, and precise. I know what’s awaiting us, something much more frightening, given the circumstances. As a man of experience, Leonard did his best to hide the dire concerns mounting inside. Like what’s gonna happen when I see the body? The dead body. Haven’t seen one of those in Fairview in what, fifteen years? Not since I was younger, and braver.
Guns pulled, they hurried along the sidewalk, sidestepping curiosity seekers and those skipping the curb in pursuit of safe distance on the other side of the street. Traffic came to a halt, horns blazing. Instantly, chaos thrived on a quiet sunny afternoon in Fairview.
They entered the stone building, stood their ground. Two terror-stricken nurses fled the scene past them. Leonard finally said to Kevin, “Someone just murdered Delaney.”
Kevin’s jaw dropped. “Sparke. That son of a bitch.”
“Come.” They scurried down the hall to the fire stairwell. A small rectangular window allowed Leonard a limited view on the other side of the door. He peeked through, saw no one, then went inside. Bloody shoeprints blotted the floor, coming down the steps from the second floor, leading outside. “Check it out,” he told Kevin.
Kevin ran out the rear door, gun drawn. Leonard waited until the door was shut, then charged up the stairs, careful not to step on the shoeprints. Settling beside the second-floor fire door, he peeked through the tiny window and saw a woman sitting against the wall in the hallway. He took a deep breath, trying to quell his anticipation, then pulled the door open, pointing his gun into the hallway. The woman--a nurse or doctor’s assistant it appeared judging by the white shirt she wore--had her hands over her face and was crying hysterically. Small blotches of blood soiled the front of her shirt, but she appeared mostly uninjured. Leonard, careful not to run to her for fear of a setup, yelled out to draw attention to himself should the killer still be close by. “Police!“
The woman, trembling, managed, “He-he’s gone.”
“Are you sure?”
Weakly, she nodded.
He went to her, hesitant, gun still drawn. The murderer could very well be out of his line of sight, just beyond the walls of one of the offices and waiting for him to step into view. “Are you injured?”
She shook her head, pulling her hands away from her face but still keeping her eyes closed. She had smears of blood on her cheeks and forehead. “I fell. He pushed me against the w-wall.”
Gun forward, Leonard peered into the office from where the bloody footprints emerged. He saw no murderer.
Only the victim.
Just to the right he saw a couch, a coffee table, and a leather chair. Alongside the chair the legs of the victim jutted out, one straight and stiff, the toes pointed up, the other twisted awkwardly at the knee. A circle of blood pooled around the legs like an oil slick, its origin of flow hidden behind the furniture. A thick metallic-like odor hung in the air.
Trembling, he pulled back and faced the nurse. Her eyes were open now, revealing bloodshot whites and huge tear-laden pupils. She’s tempting shock, Leonard thought. And I’m not too far behind. Fearing a display of his own intensifying discomfort, he hoped she didn’t see the sweat forming on his face. Or his hands shaking. Or his body trembling. When was the last time I saw a dead body? Years ago? “Did you see who pushed you?” he asked.
She shook her head slightly, cries now reduced to sobs. “N-no. Just as I was entering Doctor Delaney’s office, he came barging out. He shoved his hands in my face and pushed me, and I fell back against the wall.”
“Where did he go?” he asked, testing her and wondering at the same time how Kevin was making out, pursuing the footprints.
“Through the stairwell door. See the footprints?”
Good, Leonard thought. She had her wits about her. He grinned, nodded, and in his hesitation tried to envision the rather wishy-washy Richard Sparke committing the aggressive deed she spoke of--much less execute someone in such a horribly savage way. For reasons unexplainable, Leonard had a good deal of trouble doing so, just like he did two years ago with the beating Samantha; and just as he and Kevin did this morning when they tried to unravel the cause of the blood on Sparke’s kitchen floor. “Do you think you can stand up? If not, I’ll call paramedics for a stretcher. I’m sure they’re downstairs right now, helping others.”
“No, I’m all right,” she said, moving to stand. Carefully, Leonard helped her to rise, then ushered her away from the crime scene to the front desk: her station, she explained, at the time of the murder.
He pulled out a hanky and handed it to her. She did her best to wipe the blood from her face. Leonard smiled weakly, trying to disguise the fact that he could feel his heart painfully clobbering his ribs; it made it difficult to press on without sounding anxious.
“Was anyone else hurt?” she asked.
“I don’t believe so.” He wondered why no one had stayed behind to help her. Perhaps they saw her down, saw the perp, the blood, ran for their lives. Simple theory, makes sense. Damn, she’s lucky to be alive. “Did you hear any loud noises coming from the doctor’s office?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Nothing? No screams?”
“Nothing at all.” She sipped at a water bottle sitting on the desk, nearly dropping it because of her shaking hands. Suddenly the elevator beeped, giving them both a start, and the water bottle finally fell from her hand. The doors slid opened and four police officers emerged: nearly a third of Fairview’s remaining force. Leonard gave them a quick update--Kevin was in the rear lot looking for the perp, the crime scene was still preserved, and a forensics team would be needed ASAP. He also told them to usher in a few paramedics. They nodded and complied, leaving Leonard to continue with his witness.
“I’m sorry...I never got your name.”
“C-Carol. Carol Davis.” She was shaking violently.
“Carol,” he said, grabbing her by the hands. “My name is Leonard Moldofsky. I’ve been with the Fairview Police Department for many years. I’ve also been resident here my entire adult life. I want you to know that I understand exactly how you feel right now--you’ve witnessed a very shocking event. I also want to assure you that you’re quite safe now, in good hands. No one’s going to harm you. Okay?”
She nodded. Leonard pulled a tissue from the box on the desk and handed it to her, which she used to dab her tears.
“Now Carol, if it’s all right with you, I’d like for you to tell me what happened, exactly as you remember it.
Again, she nodded. “It’s going to sound very strange.”
At this point, Leonard thought, nothing is going
to sound strange.
Carjack
Richard grabbed the old woman by the coat collar, held the sharp edge of the screwdriver to her neck.
She twisted in his grasp, eyes bulging, mouth falling open. Her leather-like skin quivered and paled as if giving Richard a sneak preview of how she might look should he decide to utilize the screwdriver to its fullest capacity.
When Richard jostled her a bit, she went silent and frozen, instantly paralyzed by fear, yet somehow accepting that she’d lived a long and prosperous life and that her time had finally come to wallow in the pleasures of heaven. Richard thought of his mother Julia, how she had visited him in his dreams and spoke of the ‘place of wonder’ she resided, how he could visit her if he tried hard enough to embrace her. The terrible thought of this poor innocent woman losing her life, especially in such a painful fashion, brought tears to his eyes, not only for the empathy of the grandmotherly figure, but for the offspring she might be responsible for, children, grandchildren, all enduring the tragic loss of their matriarch.
Who could do such a thing?
Not Richard.
He pulled the screwdriver away.
Gently, he took the keys from her hand. “My name is...” he started, then thought better of it and said, “I am an innocent man. I’ve just been dealt a very bad hand.”
She looked at him oddly, as if she might’ve recognized him from somewhere, but was most likely frightened by the blood still on his face--that in combination with his odd choice of words. “Please don’t kill me,” she pleaded through broken words.
Richard shook his head, then quickly peered around. He saw a young cop back by the building, looking in and around the parked cars. He looked back at the woman. “I wouldn’t hurt anyone. But this is something I have to do. I’m sorry.”
Without thinking, he slid into the passenger seat, started the car and backed out of the stall. In the rearview mirror he saw the woman doing her damnedest to run away and flag down the young cop, who upon noting her came running at top speed, hand-held radio to his mouth. Richard floored the accelerator, fishtailing the Altima out of the lot onto New Street. He raced to the red light on the corner of New and High, made a right turn, all the while saying to himself with utter disbelief, I just committed a carjacking, and for some odd reason, it felt very natural.
For five minutes he weaved in and out of Fairview’s neighborhood streets, then parked the car near the wooded area along the south side of Hemmingway Park, away from town. It was only after he got out of the car did he realize that not only was he still holding the screwdriver, but that for the first time in his life--as much as he could remember of it--he knew how to drive.
Shaking off the mounting confusion and leaving a very big question unanswered, he pocketed the screwdriver and raced off into the woods, someplace he knew they’d come looking for him very soon.
Scene
“Why don’t you start from the time Mr Sparke went in to see Doctor Delaney.”
Carol Davis shifted uncomfortably in her seat, using tissue after tissue to soak up the sudden onslaught of tears. There were people everywhere, cops, emergency medical volunteers, fire department officials, making the usually serene environment a strange, intimidating place. George Washburn, Fairview’s forensics expert, had arrived minutes earlier and was performing a sweep of Dr Delaney’s office with the help of his assistant, Laura Kern. Captain Dale Reese, seeing Leonard already hard at work, gave his best officer a nod, authorizing him to continue in the questioning, then moved on to supervise the activity in the hallway. He should only know how nervous this is making me, Leonard thought.
“I-I was doing some data entry,” Carol started, “when Mr Sparke came in. He was wearing blue jeans and a blue and white plaid shirt--”
Same clothes we saw him wearing on Main Street, when he got off the bus. Why is she mentioning his clothes?
“--and I’m mentioning his clothes because that’s what has me a bit confused.”
She’s not making any sense, he thought. Yet. “Try not to get ahead of yourself, Carol. I need to hear the whole story, exactly as you remember it. Okay?”
“Yes, I’m sorry...” She hesitated, eyes aimed sideways, in search of thoughts. She wiped her nose with a tissue, then continued, “I told Dr Delaney that he’d arrived, and he went right in. The doctor had just finished up with his last patient about five minutes earlier.”
“And that patient left?”
“Yes. Gloria Moreland. Nice lady.”
Leonard scribbled down Gloria Moreland’s name, even though he felt certain it would play no significant role. “About what time was this?”
“A little after one. Mr Sparke was late, which was strange because he’s usually fifteen or twenty minutes early.”
“So Sparke went into the doctor’s office at, say, one-fifteen?”
“Yes, about that.”
He wrote the time down, which was consistent with the time he and Kevin saw Richard entering the building. “Okay, what happened next?”
“That’s all.” Carol pursed her lips, as if disappointed for not having much else to divulge. “Until he left, that is...”
Leonard did a double take. “Until who left?”
“Mr Sparke.”
“You mean...until he pushed you against the wall.”
Carol swallowed, a probable lump in her throat, glassy eyes weighing Leonard’s confusion. Her forehead was glistening. “No, Mr Sparke left the office. He walked right past me while I was taking an appointment. He took the elevator down.”
Leonard couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Wait...are you trying to say that Richard Sparke left the office before you were pushed?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“So then...who pushed you?”
“As I said before, I really didn’t see him.”
“Carol, are you certain it was Richard Sparke that walked passed you?”
“Yes, I’m absolutely positive.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“Actually, no, which I also thought was weird because he’s usually cordial. He’s been a regular around here for a long time. We’re on a first-name basis. I just figured that he’d had a poor session, or was preoccupied, or something. I really didn’t think much of it.”
“So it appears then...” Leonard hesitated, goosebumps rippling across his shoulders, “that there were two people in with Delaney.”
Carol nodded in agreement, but didn’t look altogether convinced.
“Hmm...this is weird.”
“Officer...it gets weirder.”
A headache was beginning to toy with various parts of Leonard’s brain, making the situation much harder to make sense of. It felt as if a prodding octopus were inside his head, spraying black ink across the faculties of his mind. He took some more notes, detailed them with hopes of looking at them later and having an obvious answer jump out at him. He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Kevin earlier, about there being a conceivable third party involved in Richard and Pam’s secret strategy. It had seemed remote at the time; now, it appeared a likelihood, given the alarming developments. Leonard gave himself a mental pat on the back for coming up with the idea, then brought his attention back to Carol.
“Try me,” he said, squinting in an effort to ward off the looming headache. Kevin walked over and when Leonard looked up the young cop gave him a real serious look, as if to say, I’ve found something. Big. Leonard held up a finger, returning in sign language, just a minute, then said, “Kevin, I’d like for you to hear this.” He nodded to Carol. “Go ahead, Carol.”
“Well, two things,” she said, dividing her attention between Leonard and Kevin. “First of all, when Mr. Sparke passed me to leave, he was wearing different clothes than when he first arrived. That’s why I mentioned his outfit earlier, the jeans and plaid shirt. But when he left, he was wearing tight black pants and a black shirt. I’d assumed he’d changed his clothes while in with Doctor Delaney, whic
h I might add is very out of the ordinary. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do that before. And secondly, I didn’t see or hear anyone else going into the office. No one passed by me to go in, and I didn’t hear the stairwell door open. I might have missed hearing someone come in through the stairs, especially if they were trying to be quiet, but without question I know that if someone else tried to enter the doctor’s office while he was in session, especially with Mr Sparke, he would have had a fit. I definitely would have heard about it. Immediately.”
“Why do you say ‘especially with Mr Sparke’?” Leonard asked.
“Doctor Delaney didn’t like being interrupted unless it was important, and has made it clear in the past that he didn’t want to be disturbed at all during Mr Sparke’s sessions. Come to think of it, someone from the Fairview Police Department called while he was in session. I had to put them off. Is it possible they were on to something?”
“Probably unrelated.” Leonard grinned inwardly, realizing now that it was Carol he spoke to earlier when trying to find out when Richard would be getting out. He asked, “Why do you suppose Sparke was getting the preferential treatment from the doctor?”
“Can’t say for sure. But Dr Delaney has definitely taken a considerable interest in Mr Sparke over the past couple of months.”
“How so?”
“Well for one, Mr Sparke is the only patient that sees the doctor for two hours at a time. And sometimes the sessions go even longer than that. I’ve had to cancel some of his other patients because of this. Then, after Mr Sparke leaves, Doctor Delaney might spend an hour or more by himself, during which time he asks not to be disturbed. And another thing...all the patient files are kept here at my desk, except for Mr Sparke’s. His file is confidential.”
“Where is his file kept?”
“In the doctor’s office.”
Leonard eyeballed Kevin, who looked as if he might burst at the seams. “Carol, thank you very much for your time. I’d like for you to be examined by the paramedics before you leave. Also, if you can, leave your uniform behind, we want forensics to take a look at it.” He took down her phone number, then stepped aside to talk with Kevin.
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