Deadly Gratitude

by Lori Donnester

  After watching paramedics load the shooter into the ambulance, Don clutched the wallet he’d confiscated and jogged back to the station to check the damage. As he neared, he saw the blazing lights of two ambulances out on the street and the injured were being loaded into them. Zach Daskalis stood near the ambulances and Don jogged over to him. “Zach how is everyone doing?” Don held his breath.

  Zach beamed. “Everyone survived. The guy’s a lousy shot.”

  Don let the air out of his lungs and leaned over, holding himself up with his hands on his thighs. “That’s a big relief!”

  “Did you catch him?”

  “Yeah, I chased him and wound up shooting him.” Don straightened up. “He’s not in great shape. Not sure if he’ll make it. I’m going to run over to the hospital where he is to get an interview.”

  “Good idea.” Zach patted Don on the back. “Hey, thanks for nabbing him.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Don ran into the station and looked through the wallet for the shooter’s ID. The driver’s license showed one Avery Sanutchi, a twenty-year-old. He lived near Treavor. Don printed out Avery’s crime sheet and stuffed it in a pocket.

  Arriving at the hospital, Don identified himself and discovered Avery was in surgery. Don handed out his card and let the nurses know he wanted to talk to the patient as soon as possible. He headed back to the station.

  Sitting at his desk in the homicide unit, he perused the wallet, speaking out loud in a low voice to no one in particular.

  “Avery Sanutchi, what made you start worshipping the devil? You’re twenty-years-old. Don’t you have better things to do? And why would you walk into a police station and start shooting up my colleagues?” Don pulled Avery’s record out of his pocket and reviewed it. Then, eyes intent on the computer screen, he searched further into Avery’s record along with the records of anyone mentioned in the file.

  The next thing he knew, his phone was ringing. “Detective Layden? I’m calling to let you know the patient is out of surgery and is coming out of the anesthesia.”

  “Be right there.”

  As soon as Don walked into Avery’s room, an ominous feeling came over him. He found himself looking around almost as though he was investigating a crime in progress. By instinct, he put a hand on his gun, fighting the urge to pull it out of its holster. He laughed at himself and shook it off. He rubbed his hands together. Why was it so cold in here?

  Avery’s eyes flew open and he looked around jerking his head from side to side. “No! No!” he shouted.

  Don grabbed his arm and spoke to him. “Avery, it’s okay. You’re in the hospital. Your name is Avery, right?”

  Avery looked at Don, his eyes filled with terror. “Yes, I’m Avery, but don’t let them know! Don’t tell them! They’re out to get me!”

  Don put one hand on each of Avery’s shoulders and clasped them. “Avery, I’m a detective with the Denver Police. No one here is going to hurt you.”

  “Yes! Yes, they are! They’re right there!” Avery pointed over Don’s shoulder. Don spun around but saw nothing. He turned back to Avery, who was having some sort of a seizure. Avery shook wildly as he lay on the bed, and his head jerked at random from side to side. It was time to get some help in here.

  A tiny, elderly, gray-haired nurse responded to Don’s calls. As she walked in, she stopped for a moment and gazed at Avery as he convulsed.

  “He’s having a seizure, is there something you can do?” Don looked at the nurse. Amidst the turmoil, Don noticed the nurse’s nametag said ‘Mary’.

  Mary’s steady gaze calmed Don. “The only thing you can do is wait for it to pass and hold the patient so he doesn’t fall.” She pointed to the handcuffs on Avery’s wrists that were attached to the bedrails. “This patient is already restricted so he is as secure as we can make him.”

  “I see.” Don paused and rubbed his arms several times. “Why is it so cold in here? It can’t be healthy for a patient to be in a room this cold.”

  Mary checked the thermostat. “It’s set at 72 degrees.” She walked over to the heating unit and held her hand over the vent. “It’s churning out hot air.” She turned around and looked at Don with a wise gaze in her clear, blue eyes. “If I had to take a guess, I’d say this isn’t the first time our patient has been in trouble.”

  Don remembered some of what was on Avery’s sheet, the bombardment at the station, and the eerie ritual in front of the statue of Lucifer. “You’d be right.” Don regarded the nurse. “What made you say that?”

  “I’ve seen this happen before.” She checked his vitals and read the screens on the machines that were connected to Avery.

  Don opened his mouth with more questions when one of the machines screeched. A second later, several hospital personnel ran in and surrounded the patient with a variety of medical devices.

  Don stood against the wall, trying to comprehend the whole situation. What had Avery so frightened? Why was he seeing things?

  As the medical team worked, they exchanged clipped bits of information with each other. After a time, they backed up. One of them looked at his watch and gave the time of death. Then, one by one, everyone cleared out and before long the only two remaining were Don and Mary.

  “What the hell just happened?” Don demanded. His palms were sweating as he stood looking down at Avery’s body.

  Mary tilted her head. “I have my own little theory about the cold and the seizures. I don’t think he was having a medical seizure.” She paused. “I think he was being chased.” She glanced at Avery’s body. “Or at least he thought he was being chased.”

  Don spun around and faced the nurse. “What are you talking about? We were right here. He wasn’t being chased! What kind of drugs did you give him? Was he allergic?”

  A small smile played about the venerable woman’s lips. “Detective, if all of this happened because he was allergic to drugs then why is the room so cold?”

  Don stood there, blinking.

  “I think either he thought he was being chased by demons or…” her eyes pierced Don, “…maybe he really was.” She walked over to the body and pointed to his hair and his face. “I was here when he came in. When the surgeons started working on him, they were working on a twenty-year-old man. Now look at him. Doesn’t he look older than that to you?”

  Don frowned and looked at Avery’s face. “He was shot, he went through surgery…I’ve seen people’s appearance change while they’re sick. I don’t think that’s anything new.”

  Mary considered Don’s response for a few moments and then finally nodded her head. “Okay, you have a point.” She shrugged and pulled the sheet up over Avery. “Go ahead and think what you want, it’s a free country. But that still doesn’t explain why the room is so cold.”

  She smiled before she continued. “I guess we’ll never know, will we?” She stepped towards Don and took something out of her pocket and handed it to him. He held it in his open palm. It was a rosary. “I’ve carried this with me and used it faithfully ever since the first time that I encountered this ‘condition’ so many years ago.” She closed Don’s hand around the beads. “Now I’m giving it to you. Use it, young man.” She patted his hand and walked out of the room.

  Don felt the blood drain from his head. He steadied himself against the wall as he gazed after the retreating nurse.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  After Don tied things up at the hospital, he stepped outside to his vehicle. What just happened?

  He sat in the car and stared at the rosary in his hand, then let it slide through his fingers into a cup holder in the console, watching the brown beads take on the shape of their round container as they slowly descended from his hand. He pinched himself. Yes, that hurt. I’m awake.

  Don clapped his hands together a couple of times and warmed them with his brea
th. The cold night jolted the fogginess of his brain. He fumbled for his phone and called Zach.

  “Daskalis.”

  “Hi Zach, it’s Don Layden.”

  “Hi Don, what did you find out?”

  Don scratched his head. “He didn’t really wake up. He had hallucinations and a seizure. Then he died.”

  “Hallucinations? Was he on drugs? Maybe that’s why he shot up the station.”

  Don raised his eyebrows as he thought about the events he’d witnessed. “They had to know if he was on anything before they anesthetized him. Said those came up negative. But I asked for a thorough autopsy to be done after his family was contacted. We’ll see what comes of that. I also checked his shoe size. It’s no match for the murders Luke and I are working on. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I’ll be filing my report from home tonight. But first I have to stop by and drop off my gun while the shooting of the suspect is investigated.”

  Zach laughed. “I think the investigation will take about five minutes. The guy came in and shot at a lot of police officers. He signed his own death warrant.” He paused. “Thanks for the capture and making sure he’s not on the streets anymore.”

  Don ended the call and drove to the station to turn in his gun. Belinda stopped him as he was leaving. “What in the world were you thinking? A gun fight in the middle of downtown Denver?”

  “He came in here and shot a bunch of police officers and I chased him. He fired first.”

  Belinda folded her arms and lifted her chin. “Guess what? Your little shooting spree hit a van that was carrying a valuable painting to the art museum. The van and the painting were damaged. That costs us money.”

  “Those were his shots, not mine.”

  “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

  Don felt his face redden and his heart pounded so hard he thought it might pop out of his chest. “Yes, we will,” he said through clenched teeth. Spinning around, he stalked out.

  When he got back in his car, he let it run for a minute as he stared at the rosary Mary gave him. He picked it up and talked to it. “You gotta help me out here. Anything you can do to help me solve this case would be appreciated. I do not want another woman to meet her death at the hands of this lunatic.” He put the rosary back and continued “I don’t think I can take walking into a scene like that again.” The car moved along at a slow speed as thoughts about the case swirled in Don’s mind.

  A couple of blocks to his right, the bright red Marriott Hotel sign appeared in his peripheral vision and he found himself turning into the hotel’s parking garage. He sat in his car and stared at the steering wheel without really seeing it for a few minutes. Then he walked into the bar.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Upstairs in her room, Kate flipped through channels. She shut off the television and glanced around. “I’ve got to get out of this room,” she muttered to herself. She threw on her exercise clothes and walked through the lobby to get to the gym. When she passed by the bar, she did a double-take after spotting Don. He was at a table all by himself. She stood and watched him drain the brown liquid in his glass and signal for another. She wandered over to his table.

  “Detective Don Layden, welcome to the beautiful Marriott City Centre.” Kate gave him a puzzled smile. “What brings you here?”

  Don waved his hand around in a gesture to include the room. “I remembered seeing this bar when we moved you in. I liked the jazz I heard.” He shrugged. “I think I’m here because I just didn’t want to go home to all of the quiet there. Wanted to be around people.”

  Kate’s smile disappeared as she slid into a seat across from him. “What’s wrong?”

  Don swirled the ice around in his glass and listened to the music the cubes made as they clinked against the walls of their container. “Don’t know if you’re going to believe me if I tell you.”

  Kate settled herself and patted Don’s hand. “Try me, Detective.”

  Taking his time, Don explained his last few hours from the shootings at the station to Avery’s strange death. “Maybe I’m just weirded out by the whole scene from the shooting at the station, but man, I have a serious case of the creeps right now.”

  Kate sat back, eyes wide. “Wow!” She leaned forward and rested her chin in her hand. “He must have fed the evil wolf.”

  “Don’t speak in riddles,” Don sighed. “I’m tired. You’re supposed to be on my side, remember? What are you talking about? The last time I looked there weren’t a lot of wolves wandering around in downtown Denver.”

  “Of course I’m on your side.” Kate tilted her head and grinned at him. “I’m remembering a Cherokee Indian legend I heard Father Tim tell at church one time. It’s the story of an Indian Chief who walks in the woods with his two small grandsons as he explains human behavior to them. He says there are two wolves fighting inside of everyone. One is evil and mean and hates. The other is humble and kind and shows patience and forgiveness. As his grandsons listen to him, their eyes grow wide. ‘Grandfather, Grandfather! Tell us! Which wolf wins?’ Their grandfather stops walking and looks deep into their eyes and answers, ‘It’s the one you feed.’”

  Don sat back in his chair, folded his arms, and became quiet. The faintest hint of a smile played about the corners of his mouth as he gazed at the ceiling. After a few moments he considered Kate. “That makes a lot of sense.”

  Kate shrugged. “A lot of what Father Tim says makes sense.”

  “Sounds like he’s good at his job.” Don yawned. “Anyway, right now this case is in the hands of the medical professionals, Detective Daskalis, and his partner. Avery’s episode is their issue. I have a killer of my own to catch.” Don leaned forward as he retrieved his pen and small notebook out of his suit pocket. “I tried talking to Treavor about the list, but he won’t open his mouth without his lawyer. I want to learn more about Barry Witt. Tell me everything you know. The more I know about him the better. How long did you work for him?”

  “I made it a year. Luckily for me, he traveled a lot so I didn’t have to endure his advances on a daily basis. I wanted to have a somewhat solid level of experience on my resume for my first job.”

  “I see. What details can you tell me about his investments? How did he get clients?”

  Kate pursed her lips for a minute. “I think his dad was in real estate, so he started out in that arena. He traveled all over the state, and then he started traveling all over the country to find investment opportunities. I think he also networked at cocktail parties and at art shows and art performances too.”

  “Performances?”

  “Yeah, like the opera or the ballet. He would go to the endowment dinners and things like that. He rubbed shoulders with some real wealth that way. He always wanted me to come with him, but I never did.”

  “Do you have any idea why he closed his office?”

  “My guess would be the real estate bust during the Great Recession caused a problem for him that he couldn’t recover from.” Kate drummed her fingernails on the table. Then she sat up. “I know someone who might know more. Her name is Rosalyn Walker. She is an heiress who had been close to his family for years. She seemed about as close as Barry ever got to having a real mother. His own mother was just a social climber. The few times she came to the office, all she could talk about was what kind of car she drove or what ritzy event she attended.” Kate shook her head as if to dislodge some disturbing memories. “Barry’s parents traveled quite a bit and didn’t really pay that much attention to him. I think Rosalyn Walker had him over for dinner now and then and showed him some kindness. Barry talked about her all of the time.”

  “How would I get in touch with her?”

  “She’s hard to reach because she has a few layers of people you have to go through to get to her.” Kate raised her eyebrows. “But I know she is a big supporter of the Colorado Ballet, and as
I recall she usually goes to opening night.” Kate held up a finger. “Hang on a minute.” She hustled out to the lobby and came back with a brochure from the Denver Performing Arts Complex nearby. “We’re in luck. The opening performance for their Christmas show is Monday. They always do a dinner for their major contributors beforehand. Maybe I could get us in. I know someone I went to school with at BSU who works for the Colorado Ballet in their Finance Department.”

  “All right.” He paused. “But I want to make something clear. You’re going as my date.” Don put quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “You will not pull anything like you did the other night. Do you hear me? You’re not a trained law enforcement officer. Period.”

  Kate folded her hands together and bowed her head. “Of course. I promise to be good.” She looked at Don through her eyelashes. “I was cleared in the investigation of the devil worship scene shooting.”

  “I know,” Don frowned. “But no need for a next time. Got it?”

  Kate smiled and held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  Don got up and threw a couple of twenties on the table. “Okay, let me know if you can get us into the dinner. Thanks.” Then he strode out the door into the cold night air. Due to the three drinks, he called Lyft to get home. Keep life simple.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  On another continent, the turbulence surrounding the jet as it approached the airport in Brasilia, Brazil, was disconcerting. Rain pelted the windows as they landed on the wet runway. The killer knew it was a city of about two million people in the central plains of the country. He also knew December was the wettest month of the year. What was I thinking when I decided to come here? His hands were folded tightly in his lap, knuckles white.