Much Needed Rain

by R. G. Oram

  Making notes of the few final pages on his pad, intending to read them again when he got home, Lewelyn put the case file inside Thomas Forsythe’s desk drawer, hoping it was the correct one.

  Earlier on Lewelyn had been given a taster as to what kind of person he would be working with tomorrow. As he began familiarising himself with the murder book, Lieutenant Walters approached the desk area and asked Forsythe if he wanted to attend the press conference.

  Forsythe had replied to his commanding officer: ‘Like all the times before – no thanks, Joe. There’s no point. When the department’s done something wrong we’re all considered useless. When we do something right it only lasts a second. When there’s no new development they think we’re not working hard enough.’

  The detective’s candid response had caused Lewelyn’s focus on the paper documents to shift onto the two men behind him. Walters seemed not to be bothered by Forsythe’s refusal – he just nodded and moved away, without any apparent emotional reaction to what some might consider insubordination.

  Lewelyn, still alone at the desk he currently occupied, pulled his jacket off the chair, threw it over his shoulders and buttoned the two buttonholes. He checked the slip of paper he had written on and declared himself satisfied.

  Just one more thing to do, he reminded himself.

  Lewelyn grabbed the ID card on the desk he had just finished working on. The lieutenant had given him a visitor’s ID card so he would not be stopped every time he entered the headquarters of the LAPD, although there were some areas he would still be restricted from.

  Nearing the end of the day he had an intense feeling of fatigue. Head felt like there was something in between the right and left hemispheres demanding more room. But now he dreaded his next task. Outside he asked the driver to take him to Commonwealth Avenue.

  The cab stopped by an imposing mansion styled building. A combination of domestic home and private institution, with its metal railed wall, and terracotta roof tiles emphasising it being a home for caring. Lewelyn grabbed an Andrew Jackson from his wallet and handed the twenty to the driver to wait there for him.

  Louise Miller, Hannah Miller’s mother, resided here. A home that specialised in dementia care. A sign posted on the main gate named it ‘Gracemount Retirement Home’. Ironically it was more of a home for required care than optional retirement. He knew the place because he used to ask Hannah every once and a while how her mom was doing, knowing the answer would rarely have any positive attributes, still he had thought it nice to ask her how her mom was doing.

  Finding himself in the main entrance, he was met by a middle aged woman in a nurse’s uniform and a thick set of flamingo pink glasses. She typed furiously on the keyboard and the computer’s screen reflected in the glass lenses.

  ‘Hi,’ Lewelyn attempted.

  The pounding on the keyboard stopped, ‘Oh sorry, I didn’t see you there.’

  ‘No offence taken, I can see you’re busy,’ Lewelyn nodded towards the computer screen.

  ‘Yeah, my boss gave me a load of work to do. Trying to get it done before I finish,’ she looked out through the glass door Lewelyn had just come through. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Getting close to 10. Amazing how time just flies by,’ Lewelyn replied, speaking from past office experience. ‘Anyway, I understand how late it is, but I was wondering if I could see one of your residents? Her name’s Louise Miller – just for a few minutes. Is that possible?’

  ‘Sure no problem. Are you with the police?’

  ‘Yes I am. I’m here as a friend though. My name’s David Lewelyn.’

  The woman returned to her computer, not pressing the keyboard this time, only moving the mouse.

  ‘She’s on this floor, Room 11. Down there. The door will be on the left side,’ she used her arm to show him the correct way.

  ‘Thanks.’

  He was surprised she hadn’t asked him why he was visiting so late in the evening, but then again she was a little pre-occupied and he’d told her he was ‘with’ the police.

  At the start of his journey he passed a main hall that seemed to be the central point of Gracemount. It gave the traveller options, there was a recreation room, eating area and four corridors leading to the residential rooms. There were names and numbers printed on top of each corridor entrance, telling you which rooms residents inhabited.

  Going down the one which coincided with the number he had been given he began to hear voices emanating from inside the rooms. Most were unintelligible, wordless noises on a high pitched level. The more coherent sounds were barked orders to whoever could obey.

  The door to Room 11, like all the others, was closed but not locked. Lewelyn gripped the doorknob, not yet turning it. He stood in front and contemplated what to do.

  Should he have come? Was there much point? She wouldn’t be able to understand that her daughter was dead. She couldn’t even remember her daughter’s name. And the police had most likely already told her. But were all these points valid? Why had he come here in the first place? To tell a mother that her daughter has died. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t understand. What matters is that you’ve at least taken the time to tell them.

  The room itself, with drawn curtains, barely afforded a light source. The little it did have for the non-nocturnal, originated from a working TV screen. The screen’s mild illumination revealed an elderly woman with long white and grey hair, in bed, watching the night’s entertainment. Louise Miller turned her head to Lewelyn and then back again to the screen.

  Lewelyn positioned himself by the bed, close enough for her to hear him and the TV speaking box.

  ‘Mrs Miller,’ hoping this would pull her away from the screen, it didn’t.

  ‘Excuse me Mrs Miller. My name’s David. I’m a friend of Hannah’s. How are you today?’

  This time she did make contact with him and produced a smile. However no words proceeded. Lewelyn decided she couldn’t be more than fifty, about twenty years older than Hannah.

  ‘Umm, how’s your day been?’

  The smile stayed, ‘Who are you?’ she finally asked.

  ‘I’m David.’

  ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘I thought I’d pay you a visit.’

  ‘Why would you want to do that?’

  ‘Thought you might want some company.’

  Once, Hannah had told Lewelyn the frail delicacy of a conversation with her mother. First, you had to pull her away from the TV, without physical force. Then you somehow had to get her attention and the best way was to make a good and easy conversation. You needed to choose your words carefully while making sure it made sense and was somehow entertaining.

  ‘I don’t need any company. My friends are just next door. We’re all going to a party. It’s a surprise for John.’

  John was her husband, Hannah’s dad. He died when his daughter was in high school. Lewelyn didn’t know what he died from but thought it had something to do with his heart.

  ‘When’s the party?’ Lewelyn asked to keep the flow.

  ‘Any minute now. Just waiting for them to call me.’

  ‘Sounds like fun,’ he regretfully admitted, unable to see anything in the room that had the shape of a telephone.

  ‘Mrs Miller, there’s something I need to talk to you about.’

  ‘Do I know you?’ repeating the same question she asked Lewelyn earlier on.

  ‘No,’ Lewelyn paused, not sure how to structure this next sentence.

  Just say it, psychologically forcing himself.

  ‘Your daughter, Hannah, was killed last Friday.’

  Waiting for a sign to show some kind of understanding to what he had just said, all Lewelyn could see was a blank expression on Louise’s face – the smile had evaporated. Expressionless, she angled her head back to the television. She had lost her concentration.

  N
othing else could be done, he’d delivered the message. Lewelyn wishfully waiting for more, thinking surely more could be done. Quietly watching the back of her head, seeing the artificial light flow past her, wondering if something would ignite her memory.

  Nothing.

  Reaching into the bed, Lewelyn pulled the pillow from behind Louise Miller’s head. He brought the pillow down again, doing it slowly to ensure it landed in the right place. The use of his other hand to hold the back of her head, he planted the pillow under it – making it comfortable for her.

  Mrs Miller was still gazing wide eyed at the TV, Lewelyn decided it was best for him to leave. He waved at the back of her head.

  His walking pace quickened over the hallway’s red carpeted floor. The dark red symbolised a need for him to move faster. Wanting to escape the unceasing chorus of voices, Lewelyn emerged in the large expanse of the main hall with a now empty reception desk and populated fleetingly by an orderly pushing a vacant wheelchair. He didn’t give a polite acknowledging ‘hello’ to the man. Lewelyn walked out of the doors, relieved at the sight of the red and yellow painted cab.

  Chapter 10

  Countless sleepless hours passed, eventually affording a fleeting respite, but not enough to counteract the withdrawal effects from the day’s events. His eyes were open but only for the owner’s convenience; they looked at the hidden ceiling covered by the night and beyond it, the memories and thoughts swam in circles.

  Victim being found by the landlord. The landlord had tried to contact the victim earlier in the day, the day being Saturday. Received no answer. All curtains were drawn. Stated he found it very strange for them to be drawn after noon. He decides to inspect the apartment. The door is unlocked so he does not have to use the master key. Upon entering the landlord immediately finds the body on the floor; it is in front of the doorway. States it is ‘freezing’, the air conditioning had been left on.

  The body is positioned on its back. An article of underwear covers the victim’s face. The victim is bounded with rope on both the wrists and ankles. There is bruising across the body. The pattern of this kind of bruising suggests the assailant used a thin cane of some kind to whip the victim. The hyoid bone inside the victim’s throat is broken which suggests the killer excessively choked her ante-mortem.

  Cause of death was extreme rotation of the neck – a cervical fracture. The time of death was calculated to be late Friday night or early Saturday morning. The victim was not found until late Saturday afternoon.

  The apartment itself seems untouched. No sign of a struggle. All furniture and other household items appeared to be in their correct place. No sign of burglary, suggesting the assailant only had one motive. The victim’s bed had been disturbed due to the bed cover’s being ruffled. However, Crime Scene Technicians did not find any foreign DNA in the bed, only the victim’s. The victim must have slept in it before being killed. It is unknown how the killer lured her out of her room.

  The only physical evidence of a murder committed is the body itself. How it’s positioned, altered and bruised, are the only signs to show that murder had been committed.

  To access the area a six digit code is required to unlock the gate which prohibits unauthorised access to each apartment. The gate is fitted in a narrow alcove, there being no practical entry without inputting the code to get access to the ground floor or steps to the first floor. A close inspection was made on the steel access gate, and its condition was concluded as being in perfect order. The hinges and lock appeared to be suffering from no rust or physical damage. As stated before, access for trespassers is impossible, the gate was specially designed to fit into the tight alcove, refusing entry to any small animals. Everyone agrees that the killer must have known the code.

  When asked if there is any security surveillance footage of the area the landlord states he does not own any recording equipment on the premises.

  On inspecting the lock of the victim’s apartment’s door, it did not show any signs of damage. The possibility of robbery had been considered, however nothing appeared to have been taken. Murder is currently the prime, agreed consensus with all law enforcement personnel at the scene.

  The only foreign DNA found at the scene was a drop of saliva found on the victim’s body. It has been compared to all known registered DNA in the national database and the results are inconclusive. The offender is not in the national database which suggests this is their first offence.

  All this information Lewelyn had had to learn before leaving RHD last night. He knew he couldn’t remember all of it, so he’d made notes when he was sure no one was watching him. Didn’t bother to memorise the pathologist’s report, found he spent more time going online to try and learn the medical terms than memorising relevant facts.

  The amount of facts he had to learn, like trying to remember every birthday of every person he knew all at once. Though, it did give him a chance to gloss Hannah’s resume and revisit his decision to give her the job. It wasn’t so much her education that got her the job, it did help, but it was more to do with her starting work at a young age at a grocery store which was owned by her parents. She’d help her folks out after school and on weekends.

  While she was in high school her dad had died, leaving the store to be run by Hannah and her mother. Hannah loved the business, could visualise the various places it had in the future. She had been reluctant to enrol at university, worried her mom would struggle at the store, but her mom told her she could manage.

  To pay off some of her student loans Hannah had gotten a job waiting tables, studying in the day, working nights, and somehow submitting essays and preparing for exams in between. During her third and final year of university her mom had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Hannah had managed to finish the program and acquire her degree. She’d moved back home to care for her mom. Hannah had sold the family business so she could put her mom in a nice care home.

  But what really had Lewelyn sold on her resume was the personal statement at the end of it – he remembered when he mentioned her personal statement in the interview she had cringed, almost putting herself in stasis mode. The colour had returned to her face when he gave her his opinion of it.

  Hannah Miller Personal Statement

  I’d like to think I am conscientious, hard-working and calm under deadlines. From my resume you can see I started working at my mom and dad’s grocery store when I was little.

  I’ve never had a management position, but I’ve been fortunate enough to have the experience of working closely with managers. What I think distinguishes good leaders from bad ones is how they manage people. Because people are what drive a business, that’s what I firmly believe.

  You can spend all the money you want, but unless you continuously invest in your employees then your business will fail. You have to understand your staff and always make time to listen to them. This is the key ingredient for what makes a business grow.

  I like to see a business flourish. I don’t believe in preserving the status quo. I think a business should always be looking to move forward and adapt. But first, in order for that to happen you have to make sure the people who work with you are happy where they are.

  The day beginning, he wore the same light grey suit from yesterday. Losing all sense of time when he had memorised the case file throughout the night. Getting all the facts and putting them in order. Repeatedly returning to the start, testing the density of each individual fact, seeing how they levelled with the established foundational case theory – not leaving his consciousness until all were in firm coherence.

  Lying fully clothed in his bed. Eyes only open to keep the tipsy slumbering at bay. Lewelyn hoped the people in RHD wouldn’t notice the two day suit. He did change the shirt though. Had time only to shower, breakfast not included. David used the spare house key to lock his front door, as he seemed to have lost the original.

  His nondescript attire properly equa
lled the county’s current season, for a white sky blockaded the sun’s egocentricity. The ocean of clouds in June advertised the prolonged stubbornness of spring. Lewelyn guessed they would disperse around noon.

  RHD was empty except for Thomas Forsythe who sat at a desk. The lights seemed brighter today; the slowly evaporating morning darkness outside gave them a temporary surplus, near blinding. Lewelyn then heard laughing further down, in the kitchen. The other detectives enclosed in a circle around the coffee machine.

  Discussing politics, Lewelyn thoughtfully joked.

  His presence did not seem to be noticed by Detective Forsythe. Lewelyn sat down at Mark Baker’s desk. He could see Forsythe ponder over a personal computer/tablet, repeatedly touching its screen. Lewelyn thought it best to wait. He knew that his being here didn’t sit too well with everybody; he was an outsider and people were uncomfortable with them, putting it mildly. No kind of foothold kept him here and anyone in the department could easily file a complaint about him and that would be him gone. Everybody had authority over him. Lewelyn needed to be careful what he said and did. He had to listen and follow. He was like an intern and the rest of the LAPD personnel were in executive positions. He had little if no say in anything that is said or happens, just have to accept it and move on – keep his heels on the ground and avoid stepping on any toes.

  Seeing the screen of the portable tablet not change for the last five minutes and Forsythe’s finger pointing becoming finger stabbing, Lewelyn decided to reveal himself.

  ‘Need some help?’ Lewelyn offered.

  Forsythe pushed himself and his chair away from the desk, ‘You good with computers? This thing’s driving me nuts,’ pointing at the rectangular device.

  ‘What are you trying to do?’

  ‘I’m trying to read the news but every time I press it nothing happens. All I can see is all those buttons that won’t stop shaking.’

  Forsythe passed the tablet to Lewelyn. He could see straight away what the problem was. The ‘buttons’ as Forsythe called them were apps and he had pressed too long on one of them, initiating the application manipulation option; which caused them all to shake.