Inspired by Murder

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Inspired by Murder Page 16

by Audrey J. Cole


  The ferry docked right as the song ended. His blood was pumping when he started the Buick's engine. He was more than ready to get Daisy the justice she deserved.

  Eric parallel parked across the street from the cafe on Bainbridge Island where he'd told Dwayne to meet him. He was sure he hadn't been followed but was certain the police had round-the-clock surveillance on Dwayne. Eric looked around for an unmarked cop car along the street but didn't spot any. They were here, somewhere. And they would be watching.

  He walked a block to the nearest crosswalk and waited for his turn to cross the street. A minute later, he moved through the parking lot of the business next door to the cafe and approached the cafe from the rear. He’d seen some of its workers taking a smoke break out back on one of his previous visits and knew there was a door marked Employees Only.

  He covered his hand with the end of his jacket before twisting the handle. He slipped inside the door and found himself in the cafe's back kitchen. A red-haired guy making sandwiches looked up from what he was doing.

  “Excuse me, sir. This is employees only,” he said sternly.

  “Oh, I'm sorry.” Eric looked around the kitchen. “I was looking for the bathroom. I must've gotten turned around.”

  “From outside?”

  He looked back at the door he'd come through. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure they told me it was outside and through a side door. This was the only door I could find.”

  He looked unconvinced by Eric’s story. Nevertheless, he set down the sandwich and pointed to a door on the other side of the kitchen. “Well, they told you wrong. Go out the door and make a left.”

  “Thanks.”

  The man shook his head and went back to making the sandwich.

  With the sleeve of his jacket still covering his hand, Eric let himself out of the kitchen and stood in a small, empty hallway at the back of the cafe. He turned to the left and was glad to find the door to the men's room unlocked. He went inside and closed the door behind him. The loo consisted of a single toilet and sink with a door that could lock from the inside. The small, rectangular window above the toilet was exactly as he had remembered. Just big enough for him to escape through. He checked the latch to make sure it opened. It did.

  He pulled out the burner phone and texted Dwayne. You're being watched. Meet me in the men's room. He left the door unlocked while he waited for Dwayne to join him. The door swung open less than a minute later.

  He recognized Dwayne immediately from his picture in the news. He was bigger than Eric had anticipated, however. Dwayne was only an inch or two taller than Eric, but he had the build of an out-of-shape rugby player. This was not going to be his easiest kill.

  “Lock the door behind you.”

  Dwayne did as he was told.

  “You have the phone?”

  “I need to hear you say it first.”

  “Say what?”

  “That you killed her.” You son of a bitch, Eric wanted to add. But he needed to maintain the upper hand if he was going to kill him. He couldn't afford for Dwayne to lose his temper.

  Eric realized it was already too late.

  Dwayne’s face reddened as he took a step toward him. “You're the psychologist she worked for.”

  Eric refrained from correcting him and explaining how lowly a psychologist was compared to a psychiatrist. He took a step back.

  “You're the reason she didn't come home that night, aren't you?”

  He didn't answer.

  “What makes you think you could sleep with my woman? You think because you're a doctor you can do whatever the hell you want?” Dwayne poked the middle of his chest with his pointer finger.

  Eric yearned to laugh out loud at the idea of a psychologist being referred to as a doctor. Maybe we should award that title to chiropractors while we're at it. But, once again, he refrained.

  “Maybe I should kill you. After you hand over that bitch's phone.” Dwayne held out his palm for Eric to give him Daisy's cell.

  He'd had about enough. Time for Dwayney boy to die. “I don't have it with me.”

  “What? You're lying!” He put a hand below each of Eric’s shoulders and shoved him backward. He fell against the sink.

  “If anything happens to me, I've made sure the phone will get to the police.”

  Dwayne’s jaw clenched and both of his hands balled into fists at his side. His eyes looked intently into Eric’s as he decided whether or not Eric was telling the truth. Dwayne’s eyes narrowed. He’d apparently concluded Eric was lying.

  Dwayne grinned through yellow teeth. Eric couldn't imagine what Daisy had seen in him.

  “Yeah right. Empty your pockets.”

  Eric regained his posture and smoothed the front of his jacket. “No.”

  Dwayne’s grin disappeared. He rushed forward and pushed Eric’s arm against the sink while he used his other hand to try and open Eric’s jacket pocket. The only thing in that pocket was his necktie, and Eric couldn't let him take it. Eric made a fist with his free hand and threw a punch into the side of Dwayne’s face.

  Pain resonated through his knuckles. Dwayne opened his mouth wide and stretched out his jaw. His hand fell away from Eric’s pocket as he raised it to his cheek. He snarled and brought both of his hands to Eric’s neck. He clamped his grip tightly around Eric’s throat. Just like he'd done to Daisy.

  Dwayne’s hands were crushing Eric’s trachea, and his entire throat felt as though it were about to shoot out through his mouth. But the thought of Daisy brought him back to focus. She deserved more than justice. She deserved revenge.

  Using every ounce of strength he had, Eric brought his hands to Dwayne's face and jarred his thumbs into each of his eye sockets. Dwayne let out a pathetic cry and flung his head back. His grip loosened around Eric’s neck and Eric threw another punch into his Adam's apple. Dwayne gagged as his hands fell away.

  This was his moment. Eric pulled the tie out of his pocket and wrapped each end around his hands. Dwayne had rebounded from the blow to his windpipe. He saw the tie just before Eric looped it around the back of his neck. He crossed it in front of his throat and pulled it taunt. Dwayne reached up and grabbed the ends of the tie, but it was no use. Eric pulled tighter. They were face-to-face, but, unlike Patricia, this time it didn't bother him.

  Dwayne ripped off his hat and hurled his forehead into his. Stunned from the hit, Eric’s feet wavered. He fell back onto the bathroom floor, pulling Dwayne's massive weight on top of him. The air escaped his lungs when Dwayne’s body landed on him. His grip on the tie had loosened during the fall.

  Eric scrambled to retain his hold and managed to pull it tight again across Dwayne's throat. Dwayne’s face was only an inch from his and he watched his veins protrude out of his skin from the pressure of the noose. Eric struggled to fill his lungs with air against the crushing force on his chest. For a second, he worried he might suffocate before Dwayne did. But he told himself that was ridiculous. He just needed to concentrate.

  Dwayne pushed himself up from the floor and slammed his fist into Eric’s left temple. Eric lost his grip on the tie when Dwayne delivered another punch. His knuckles felt like a sledgehammer when they struck his cheekbone. Eric’s hands fell to the floor as he lay stunned from the blow.

  He felt Dwayne's enormous weight lift off him and knew he had to act fast if he was going to be the one who walked away from this fight. Dwayne got to his knees and raised his fist in the air. Using all his strength and then some, Eric drew back his knee and kicked Dwayne in the gut before his arm came forward for another hit.

  He fell backward, and Eric grabbed the tie off the floor. Dwayne turned toward him on his hands and knees as Eric flung the tie around his throat and climbed onto his back. Dwayne brought a hand up to the tie as Eric crossed it behind his neck and pulled with all his might. Dwayne moved onto his knees. He swayed from side to side in a wild motion, trying to loosen the noose around his neck. Eric strained to pull the ends of the tie against his chest.

  Hi
s arms trembled as Dwayne’s movements gradually slowed. The next minute felt more like sixty. Dwayne’s body went slack and Eric moved with him, landing atop his back as Dwayne hit the floor. Eric kept the noose tight for another minute longer before he rolled off him and let his arms collapse at his sides. He lay next to him on the bathroom floor, finally able to take in a deep breath.

  A sharp knock sounded at the door and Eric lifted his head. It could be the cops who were watching Dwayne. Crikey. Maybe they were suspicious of what was taking him so long. Or maybe they heard something from outside. Were they loud? He had no idea.

  He needed to get out of there. He pulled the tie from Dwayne's discolored, swollen neck and tucked it inside his jacket pocket. He rushed to the window and opened the latch when he remembered Dwayne had knocked off his hat. There was another loud knock at the door. He turned and swiped his hat off the ground.

  Eric hoisted himself through the window but only managed to make it out halfway. His legs dangled inside the bathroom as he tried unsuccessfully to pull himself through the small opening. There were three sharp bangs on the bathroom door.

  “Dwayne! It's Seattle Police. We know you're in there,” called a male voice. “You've got five seconds to open this door or we're coming in!”

  His pulse quickened. He pressed his palms against the building's exterior but his lower half didn't budge. The bathroom door shook against its frame as a sharp thud resounded from the other side. The cops must've been trying to kick the door in.

  Eric grunted as he sucked in his stomach and pushed against the outer wall one last time. Astoundingly, his lower body slid through the window frame and he fell to the ground. He’d no sooner landed on the pavement when he heard the door to the bathroom bust open. He crawled past the edge of the window before he got to his feet.

  “Call an ambulance!” He heard the male voice yell from inside.

  It's much too late for that, Eric thought with a smile before he broke into a run.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Richards told him during their walk to CenturyLink Field that they'd have pretty good seats. When Stephenson saw where they were sitting, he realized she'd lied. Their seats were incredible, only ten rows up from the fifty-yard line. You could hardly do any better.

  They were nearly an hour early, but the stadium was already filling with fans sporting blue and green from head to toe. Many had their faces painted.

  “Not bad, huh?” she said as they sat down.

  Stephenson grinned. “Yeah, not bad. I think you might've downplayed how good these seats are. Just a little.”

  “Well, I'm glad I could impress you. All the players get a few tickets for family and friends, but the seats are way up the top. My dad has had season tickets for years, so we have a close-up view when my brother plays.”

  “I'm definitely impressed. You said your dad was out of town this weekend?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, on business. He'll still be watching, but he was pretty bummed he couldn't be here.”

  “I bet. I'm gonna grab a beer before the game, you want one?”

  “Sure.” She rubbed her gloved hands together to warm them.

  “I'll be right back.”

  Twenty minutes later, he walked down the steps back to their seats with a beer in each hand and marveled at how he'd gotten so lucky.

  Richards turned when he got to their row and reached out for her beer. “Thanks.” She took a sip from the nearly overflowing cup.

  He'd been taken aback by how stunning she looked when they met at the station. Her makeup accentuated her high cheekbones and full lips. Her hair was always pulled back when he'd seen her at work, but today it framed her face and fell almost to her waist.

  They chatted comfortably as the stadium continued to fill. The noise from the fans grew louder the closer it came for the game to start, and they eventually had to yell to hear one another.

  They stood and cheered as the Seahawks ran onto the field. The energy from the crowd was electric.

  “Which one's your brother?”

  “The one in the pink shoes.” She pointed to him on the field. “Most of the players only wear them in October for breast cancer awareness month, but because we lost my mom to breast cancer, he wears them every game.”

  “I'm so sorry,” he said.

  “Thanks. She's been gone nearly five years now, but I still think about her every day.” She took a sip from her beer. “Anyway, it's his first year on the team, so he hasn't had a lot of playing time. Hopefully we'll get to see him out there today.”

  The scores were tight from the beginning and the two teams were tied at halftime. Richards' brother came out and played for most of the third quarter, and they were both too intent on watching to engage in much small talk. At one point, he felt her hand brush against his. She smiled when he looked over at her.

  The score was just as close in the second half as it had been in the first. At the end of the fourth quarter, they went into overtime. They watched, frozen in anticipation, as a coin was flipped to see which team got the ball first. The opposing team won the toss and the Seahawks kicked off again.

  In the first play, the other team's quarterback threw a long pass to their receiver. Stephenson held his breath while he watched to see if the pass would be complete. The Seahawks' star defensive back read the pass the whole way and intercepted the ball deep in their own territory. He and Richards screamed with joy as they watched him run it all the way back for a touchdown. The roar of the Seattle crowd was deafening as Richards threw her arms around his neck and he returned her embrace. It was an exhilarating end to one of the most intense games he had ever watched. Their embrace lasted a little longer than it needed to, but neither one was ready to let go right away.

  Celebratory fans began to leave their seats, and they followed the slow-moving crowd toward the exit. Their arms touched as they climbed the stairs amid the mass of people leaving the stadium. Stephenson couldn't deny he liked the feel of her close to him.

  “My brother invited us to an after-party for family and friends here at the stadium. The players won't be there for a little bit, but we can head down there now. Would you mind if we stopped by before we go?”

  “Are you kidding me? Of course I wouldn't mind. That'd be awesome. I'll try not to embarrass you by acting starstruck in front of some of the greatest NFL players in the world.”

  She laughed. “You better not. Especially not in front of my brother. He already thinks he's hot stuff as it is.”

  It took them awhile to move through the crowded stadium. Stephenson's phone rang as they reached the entrance to the party. It was Adams. He probably wanted to talk about the game and give him a hard time for going with Richards.

  “Sorry,” Stephenson said. “It's Adams. I'll tell him I'll call him later.”

  “No problem.” She stopped in front of the door and waited for him to take the call.

  “Hey. I hate to rub it in, but we're about to go say hi to Richards' brother at the team's after-party, so I'll give you a call back in a bit.”

  “We have a problem.” Adams' tone was serious. It sounded like he was driving. “Dwayne's dead.”

  “What?”

  The door in front of them opened, and Stephenson recognized the team’s star tight end, who emerged into the hall. He said hello to Richards while Stephenson turned away to talk to Adams.

  “How did that happen?”

  “He was at a cafe on Bainbridge Island. He got up to use the bathroom and the two officers assigned on his surveillance got distracted by the end of the Seahawks game that was playing on TV at the cafe. He'd been gone for about ten minutes before one of them went to check on him and found him on the floor of the bathroom. Strangled. They did CPR but it was too late.

  “The bathroom's window was open. They said it was big enough for someone Dr. Leroy's size to squeeze through. They never saw him, but one of the cooks said a man fitting his description came into the kitchen from the back alley saying he was lo
oking for the bathroom right before the time Dwayne was killed. They're canvasing the area for him now.”

  Stephenson rubbed his head. This was bad. He couldn't believe Dwayne was killed by Dr. Leroy while he'd been under police surveillance. McKinnon was going to be pissed. The sergeant did him a favor by allowing him to release Dwayne in the hope of being able to arrest Dr. Leroy. And he'd trusted him to carry out his plan. Dwayne shouldn't have been in any danger of the doctor getting to him without the surveillance team knowing.

  “Did they show the cook a photo of Dr. Leroy?”

  “They did, but he wasn't able to give a positive ID. Said he was wearing a hat and he didn't get a good enough look at his face.”

  “Do they have any surveillance video?”

  “None. It's a small, locally-owned cafe.”

  “How could Leroy have possibly killed Dwayne and escaped unnoticed when he was under our surveillance?”

  Richards walked over to where he stood and raised her eyebrows. He realized he was yelling.

  “Those officers will have to answer for that,” said Adams.

  And so will I, thought Stephenson.

  “The cafe is within walking distance to the downtown Seattle ferry. It's just left for the city. It's possible Dr. Leroy is on it. I'm on my way to the ferry dock now. Can you meet me?” Adams asked.

  The stadium was only a short walk from the ferry. “I'm on my way. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “I've already requested to have a couple patrol officers to assist with the search. We'll start by searching the vehicles as they get off the ferry, and I'll have them hold the walk-on passengers for you to check when you get there.”

  “Okay, see you there.”

  “What was that about?” Richards asked as Stephenson zipped his phone back into his coat pocket.

 

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