by C.G. Banks
Chapter 39: Pieces and Parts
The last thing on James Arnold’s mind when he walked into the precinct that day was Carolyn Skate. His afternoon had been spent in the company of a convicted serial killer in Angola State Prison, a small, unassuming man who had picked up prostitutes and driven railroad spikes through their brains. So far they had eight; Arnold was sure there were more. Everything just depended on how much sanity you were willing to give up, listening to the twisted little fuck. He talked to Shelly in the crow’s nest, as they called it, told him the interview had been about as productive as a black politician at a Klan rally, and made his way back to his desk. Amid the usual scrabble of notes, papers, newspaper articles, napkins and Styrofoam coffee cups he saw the number. Skate’s. But the name beneath wasn’t hers, but somebody named Bills. He sat down and thumbed the note into better view. Beverly Bills. He looked off into the middle distance, thinking. Nope, the name didn’t ring a bell but it was definitely Skate’s number. He looked down at his watch. Almost 4:30. Odds were she’d still be in. He thought about the twisted little fuck again and nodded. Maybe she could give him an insight he’d so far overlooked. It was worth a try.
The phone was picked up on the fourth ring by an obviously harried voice on the other end. Arnold assumed, correctly, this was Beverly Bills and introduced himself. The relief in her voice was immediate and surprising, at least from Arnold’s point of view. “Oh, I’m so glad you called! I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to talk to you today, and I really don’t know what to do! The phone’s been ringing off the wall, and I’ve had to cancel patients right and left! You know, I’m really not—“ and Arnold cut her off with a well-directed cough.
“Slow down, Ms. Bills. I just got in and saw the message. What’s the problem?”
“Something’s happened to Doctor Skate!” The woman’s voice sounded like she was winded from running. Close to panic. Somewhere in the background Arnold heard another phone ring and distinctly heard the word “shit” issue from the ear piece.
He coughed again, louder this time, and went to his cop voice. “Ms. Bills, ma’am. Ms. Bills, listen. Forget the other lines. I want you to talk to me. Whatever else is coming in can wait. Trust me.”
His tone seemed to sooth her, or at least to help put her mind on track. “Yeah, okay,” she said. “Let me flip off the system. Oh, it’s been going all day and—“
“Ms. Bills,” he said again, putting some more sandpaper to his cop voice. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I told you! Something’s happened to Doctor Skate!”
Arnold settled back in his chair and put his thumb and middle finger to the crest of his nose. Closed his eyes and kneaded the flesh there. “Tell me what you know, Ms. Bills, not what you think. What you know. Slow down and take it nice and easy. First off, how did you get my number?”
“It was in her book, right on top. Your name, that you’re a detective.”
“Okay, great. You did good. If something has happened to Doctor Skate you’ve called the right guy. Now, what makes you think something’s happened to her?”
“Well, she’s not here! All day! She’s loaded down with appointments and she’s not here! I’ve called her home…I don’t know what else to do. Some people have been very angry.”
“Forget those people, Beverly,” (he decided to make this more personal by using her first name. It worked with some people.) “Listen to me. Has she failed to come in to work before, even with lesser work loads?”
“Not that I know of. I’ve worked here a little over six months and this is the first time as far as I know.”
“Okay, okay. Good. You called me. You did right. You say you called her house. How many times?”
“Five, ten, a lot.”
“Okay. It just rings? An answer phone? What?”
“An answer phone.”
“Now listen to me, Beverly. I know you probably had a bad day, trust me I know, but you need to think.” He glanced back at his watch. “Tell me when you saw her last.”
“About five yesterday afternoon. I told her I had to get a present…”
“Okay, five o’clock yesterday. What was she doing? Was she with a patient?”
“Ahh, no, I think one had just left. She was going over things on her desk.”
“What sort of things?”
“I don’t know. Papers, maybe, something in her computer.”
“Okay. What were you doing?”
“I, uh. Oh yeah, I had a message. A patient had called wanting to speak to her.”
“And you came to give her the message…okay. Was she close to closing up shop for the day?”
“Well, it looked like she might’ve been. I don’t know…”
“You usually deliver messages in person?” Arnold had been to the office (boy, had he) and knew the layout. It seemed a little odd.
“No…I don’t. But this person…I don’t know, there was something odd about her. She seemed confused, desperate. Then she hung up on me.”
“So you got an odd call.” He skin was beginning to prickle more and more. “Who was it?”
She didn’t even pause for breath, or to consult any note. “Patsy Standish,” she said. “Doctor Skate seemed interested.”
Arnold sat bolt upright in his chair. Until now he’d thought it all could be a false alarm. Now he had the sneaking suspicion it wasn’t. His voice betrayed nothing. “Beverly, you don’t mind if I call you Beverly, do you?” he began, his mind already racing on to other things.
“No, no, of course not.”
“Okay, great. Here’s the deal. Close up now. Leave a message on the answering machine if you haven’t yet, whatever you need to do. Finish out anything you may have pressing and go home. If she’s not there, she’s not there. Nothing you can do about it. Other than what you’ve just done which was exactly right. I’m gonna be taking it up at this end, don’t worry. She’s an old friend of mine so I’m not gonna worry about the 24 hour bit. If you say something’s wrong, I’m taking your word for it. We good?”
“Yeah, okay. I thought the right thing to do would be—“
“All right. One more thing. I want you to keep trying her home number. The second you get her, if you get her, call me. Got it?”
“Yeah I got it.”
“Fine, here’s my number. I’ve got my phone with me all the time. I’ll get right back to you. Promise.”
“Okay Mister, uh, I mean, Detective Arnold. I’ll do just that.”
“Great. If I need anything from you I’ll call the office tomorrow.”
“What if she’s still not here?”
“Let’s worry about those things when and if they come,” he said though he could hardly believe it himself.
