“We think we do. Karen, I don’t know what Fairchild has on you to turn you into a murderer. But if I were you, I’d be worried.”
Scanlon tried to make sense of this. “Look, I just offered my design expertise to Peter Fairchild. His father recommended my services.”
“Why would this Sturdivant guy implicate you in Peter’s murder?” Charlie asked.
“I have no idea. I have no connection to this Caesar Sturdivant.”
Scanlon was still trying to be calm, but Charlie noticed the tic in her left eye and the tint of red on her cheeks. It could be the screwdriver, but she had also reached into her purse and pulled out a cigarette before remembering they were in a nonsmoking bar.
“Did you know Sturdivant was attacked in his cell two days ago? It’s a funny coincidence. It was right after Pamela Fairchild told her father Don was in Toronto to talk to the guy.”
“After I visited Sturdivant, two guys shot up my car,” Don added. “That was probably just a coincidence too, Charlie.”
“Maybe. But then there are the guys who tried to kill Franklin, and now he’s in protective custody.”
“Oh, I forgot about that. That’s too many attacks to be coincidence, isn’t it?” Don teased.
“Yeah. I’m thinking maybe Fairchild is not the kind of man to leave loose ends,” Charlie said. “And as soon as he hears the police are interested in Karen, he’ll get nervous.”
They both stared directly at Scanlon.
“Look, I need to leave,” she said, pulling a ten-dollar bill from her purse and dropping it on the table.
“Karen,” Charlie said. “Why should you take the fall for something Fairchild orchestrated? We’ve checked. You’ve committed a few minor crimes, but never anything like murder. If the prosecutors prove you killed Peter, you’ll go to prison for the rest of your life.”
“That would be premeditated murder,” Don added.
“No. No. You can’t pin this on me.”
“Fairchild will be the one pinning it on you. You’re no dummy. Look at the facts. This witness is implicating both you and Fairchild, but if it comes down to you versus him, how do you think this will turn out?” Charlie asked.
“With his high-priced attorneys, and his political connections, will a jury believe Stanford Fairchild, or Carrie Anne Sketcher?” Don enjoyed adding this bit of fuel to Charlie’s fire.
# # #
They remained in the bar while outside, officers took a frightened Scanlon into custody when she exited. She would be questioned as a person of interest in the Peter Fairchild murder. It wouldn’t take long for her lawyer to arrange her release, but even less time before inside information—from the prosecutor’s office, the police department, Wayne County Sheriff’s office, or some other source—leaked to Fairchild.
Charlie ordered a ginger ale, chicken wings, and a coffee for Don.
“I don’t need coffee.”
“You just had a large scotch, and we’re going on overnight patrol.”
“In that case, get me another coffee to go. I have my thermos in the car. Oh, and I’m eating some of your chicken wings.”
“Get your own.”
“Won’t this meal be expensed?”
“I guess so.”
“Then what’s yours is mine.” Don’s phone beeped a message. “They have Scanlon at police headquarters.”
“You think we shook her?”
“I know we did. If DPD hadn’t picked her up tonight, she’d be home packing up a few things and hitting I-75 south.”
“What’s to keep her from doing that after she’s released?”
“Wallace is putting a patrol car at her house.”
“You think she’ll roll on Fairchild?”
“Absolutely,” Don said.
“I think so, too,” Charlie said. “Scanlon may be a liar, a cheat, and a scam artist, but she’s nobody’s fool. Maybe she conspired with Fairchild because he gave her a boatload of money, or because he has something on her that’s worse than anything she’s ever been charged with. She’s always had to scrap for a living. It takes nerve, tenacity, and brains to reinvent yourself. She’s used every tool she has to get where she is, and she’s not going down for some man. Any man.”
“Wow. It sounds as if you like her, Mack.”
“No. But I understand women who want to make a name for themselves and have their own independence. There is a not-so-thick line between what I do and what Scanlon does.”
“I’m not going to agree with that, Mack. I know you. You have a conscience. Scanlon doesn’t. The only feelings she has are printed by the U.S. Mint.”
# # #
“Hi, hon, hope I’m not calling too late. I’m on my way to my security shift at the hospital.”
“Hamm and I are still up. Is Don with you?”
“I’m following his car. We met with Karen Scanlon, then had a quick bite.”
“Hamm’s been walking back and forth to the front door looking for you, but I’m about to lock up for the night. Once we go upstairs and he sees his bed he’ll be out like a light.”
“I hope he isn’t the only one missing me.”
“He’s not. You’re being careful, right?”
“Yes.”
“Have you heard anything from Pamela or Fairchild?”
“No.”
“Or Franklin?”
“Franklin is a prisoner. He doesn’t have access to a phone.”
“Will you be home in the morning?”
“We get off at eight. I want to check with Wallace to see what time they plan to transport Franklin to a facility. If they’re moving him early, Don and I will probably stay around.”
“Okay. Be safe,” Mandy said, yawning. “Love you.”
“Love you, too. I’ll call in the morning. Sleep well.”
# # #
Detective Wallace was waiting in the parking lot when Don and Charlie arrived, and they gathered in front of his unmarked car. He gave Charlie a radio unit and advised them they would move Franklin early tomorrow. He’d ordered a patrol car to the hospital’s service entrance and had stationed a second officer on the fourth floor. Wallace also reported that Karen Scanlon had been released from custody.
“We didn’t have enough to hold her, but we questioned her long enough to put a tracking device on her vehicle and dispatch a car to watch the front of her house. Now we’ll wait and see,” Wallace said.
“Any directive from your brass?” Charlie asked.
“There’s been a meeting in the chief’s office for the last three hours. I wasn’t invited, but Travers is there. I’m headed back to headquarters now.”
# # #
“You’re relieved, Denton,” Don said, leaning into the car window.
Relieved is how Denton looked as he turned in his walkie-talkie. He’d spent more than nine hours sitting, standing, walking, and hovering around the hospital parking lot. He’d had only a half-hour bathroom and food break. It was the most tedious detail he’d had since becoming a freelance investigator. Still, he wanted to impress the owners of the Mack Agency so he could get work with them again.
“Thanks, uh, Mr. Rutkowski. Say, there’s one thing that occurred to me. It might make sense to put a man on the rear service entrance. I doubt there are many deliveries at night, but at least three trucks and a service van took that access road to the rear. When I checked with the parking booth guard, he said vehicles can go back there only if they have a delivery order, and he can watch them on his security monitor.”
“That’s good thinking, Denton. The police are already dispatching a patrol car for the rear. But we’ll be sure to check with the parking guy.”
# # #
Charlie and Don parked on opposite sides of the lot. Charlie had a close view of the emergency room and the hospital’s main entry, and Don was parked in the farthest corner near the access road. His driver-side back window was still splintered, secured inside and out with duct tape. He got out, punched the door lock on his Buick
fob, and walked over to where Charlie sat in the Corvette. After rapping lightly on Charlie’s window, he stuffed himself into the passenger seat.
“Damn, this is like sitting in a coffin.”
“You’re here without an invite you know. Did you already talk to Rita?”
“I called her before I got to the bar. She wasn’t happy about me spending another night away from home.”
Charlie nodded. “You’ll make it up to her. What do you think of Denton? Would you work with him again?”
“I think so. This wasn’t the most exciting assignment, but he managed to keep his eyes open, and he made a good suggestion.”
“What was that?”
“To check in with the parking attendant. Apparently, he has a monitor for the service entry camera. Denton said there were a half-dozen deliveries during the day, and he took the time to check them out. I’m about to walk over there now. You want to come?”
# # #
Charlie caught a whiff of alcohol as soon as the attendant slid the window open. “Can I help you?” the man said.
“I’m Charlie Mack, and this is my partner. We’re doing guard duty in the lot tonight and thought we’d just introduce ourselves.”
“I’m Rivers. The note from my supervisor said we’d have some private security around. Y’all are protecting that killer upstairs on four. Right?”
“Uh. Yeah, we are,” Charlie said, deciding not to argue the point. “I assume it’s usually pretty quiet at night. Do you get any deliveries?”
“A few. But most of the action at night comes from the drop-offs or pickups at emergency. I been doin’ this twenty-two years. Got a year to go before retirement.”
“Is that the service entry?” Don asked, pointing to a couple of monitors mounted on the wall.
“Yep. Service dock and waste management area. The trash guys come around four. We sometimes get a laundry pickup and delivery, but that’s about the size of it.”
Charlie heard the drone of the local news/sports channel, and spotted a small radio perched on the inside ledge. Next to it was an old-fashioned metal lunch box and thermos. As they talked, a patrol car eased up to the booth.
“I’m headed to the back,” the female officer said, leaning over from the driver’s seat.
“Go on through,” Rivers replied, waving.
“Well Mr. Rivers, I’m parked over there,” Charlie said, pointing toward the emergency building. “My partner is at the back of the lot. We’ll see you later.”
# # #
There was constant traffic at the emergency room entrance. Not unusual for the start of the weekend. Charlie noted that this was her fourth visit to this hospital in as many days. The past ten days of stress, surprise, and suspense around her ex seemed like a month. Don and Judy were feeling it, too. This case had disrupted their work and home lives.
Charlie didn’t have a thermos of coffee, so she headed to the lobby for a vending machine purchase. She exchanged a nod with the guard as she entered. The waiting room had a few people sitting in various corners, and the lady behind the desk was busy on her computer. Charlie slid a few bills into the cash slot for a Snickers bar and a bottled water, then returned to the parking lot. It was a cold night, but clear. It hadn’t snowed much all week.
Charlie looked toward Don’s car, and he flashed his lights. She responded with a raised hand. She strolled to the parking booth and found Mr. Rivers sleeping, his head resting on his chest, so she didn’t bother him. When she returned to the car, she turned over the engine to get some heat pumping through the vehicle. It was going to be a long night.
At two a van marked “Allied Laundry and Linens” pulled into the hospital access lane and drove up to the parking booth. The van driver honked once, and Rivers stepped outside and around to the driver’s side. Within a minute Rivers returned to his booth and the van continued along the road. Twenty minutes later the laundry van left the same way it came. The emergency room traffic quieted around 3 a.m., and Charlie was having a hard time staying awake. She called Don.
“What is it, Mack?”
“Single surveillance is boring as hell!”
“Staying awake is just mind over matter.”
“Is that what they teach you in the Marines?”
“No. They tell you if you fall asleep, you’ll probably die. So you’re more prone to insomnia. Plus you’re not alone out there. There’s always some guy who keeps you awake by chattering all night.”
“I’m listening to a news talk station.”
“Is that helping?”
“Not really. They keep reminding me how cold it is.”
“I’m using a portable heater that plugs into my lighter unit, so I don’t have to keep the engine running.”
Charlie responded with silent envy.
Don laughed. “I have a nice large trunk for my work tools. It’s one of the advantages of having a car that isn’t built like a sardine can.”
“Maybe I should sit with you. The ER is quiet.”
“Okay. Come on over now. I have a good view of the whole place.”
# # #
It was roomier and warmer in Don’s car even with the cracked back window letting in a bit of air. Although he was parked farther from the lobby, his vantage included the parking booth, the access road, and both the front and emergency entrances.
“So Rivers was sound asleep?” Don asked.
“I didn’t see any point in waking him.”
“He might be more alert if he didn’t have a thermos full of booze,” Don said.
“Yeah. I smelled it too.”
“Look, it’s after four, and the trash guys should be here any minute, but Mother Nature is calling now.”
“Okay. Bring me back a coffee.”
“I’ll be back in five minutes,” Don said, grabbing the walkie-talkie.
Charlie watched him walk up the row of cars toward the main entrance. He stopped when he heard the trash truck and turned to watch it rumble up the access road. He lifted a thumbs up. The lobby doors swooshed open and then closed behind Don.
The trash vehicle had the logo “Dooley Brothers” on the side. It stopped at the parking booth, and Rivers walked around to the driver’s side holding a clipboard. After a few moments, the truck continued up the west side of the building. Charlie looked at Don’s thermos, thinking of unscrewing the top for a quick sip. But a brown sedan pulled quickly into the lot, and Charlie sat up with alarm. She watched as the car pulled into a space at the front of the lot, and a man jumped down from the driver’s seat. He ran to the open passenger door and reached in to take a small child from a woman. The three hurried to the emergency room.
Charlie sighed and leaned back into the seat. A red SUV and a white four-door sedan drove into the lot and parked, but Charlie was concentrating on the source of the tinny sound she heard coming through Don’s cracked window. Finally, she made it out as the radio in the parking booth. The window to the booth must be open. Don had left the keys in his ignition, so she pulled them out as she exited and tucked the two-way radio in her jacket pocket. As she approached the booth, she saw the open door. She looked inside at the service bay monitor and saw the trash truck with its doors open. Two steps more and she spotted Mr. Rivers lying lifeless on the access road.
Shots fired! Shots fired! came the shout through the two-way in her pocket. We have a fourth-floor breach, the voice sounded again. Charlie started at a run toward the front entrance, then changed directions. “Don, I’m headed to the rear. Rivers has been shot!” Charlie shouted into the radio.
At a trot Charlie shoved the walkie-talkie into her jacket and drew her revolver. Officer down, Officer down the radio sounded again. When she reached the corner of the building, she paused to look. The garbage truck, doors open, was stopped behind the patrol car. There was no movement at the police car, and its driver-side door and trunk stood open. Charlie held her gun in a firing position and walked quickly toward the two vehicles. She circled the garbage truck. It was e
mpty. She came up slowly behind the police car.
“Officer?” Charlie shouted. “I’m private security.”
There was no response, and Charlie peeked into the trunk as she moved up to the driver side of the empty patrol car. She looked ahead at the building’s rear door, then moved up toward it and yanked on the handle. It opened easily. She carefully stepped inside. The hallway was awash in fluorescent light. And empty. At the end of the hallway was a set of double doors. Charlie approached the doors cautiously, turned the knob slowly, and opened the door a crack. As she stepped through, her radio blared again. We have gunfire at the front of the building. I need assistance. It was Don.
“I’m coming, Don,” Charlie shouted into the radio.
She was backing out the double doors when she heard moaning. In an alcove, ten yards ahead, the female officer lay on top of a pile of boxes. With gun extended, Charlie moved fast up the hall. The officer’s face and head were bleeding, and her eyes were swollen shut. The cop’s lips were a reddish-blue.
“I’m here as private security. What happened?” Charlie asked, kneeling next to the woman.
“Attacked.”
Charlie could barely hear the whispered response. She leaned over the cop, putting her ear to her mouth.
“He’s got my gun,” she said through a thick tongue.
“Did he shoot you? I didn’t hear any shots.”
“No. Not shot. He sprayed my face, then hit me with something. Hard. I followed him.”
The officer’s face contorted in pain. With some effort, she lifted herself to a seated position.
“Stay still. You might have a concussion.”
“I can’t see,” the officer replied.
“I’ll get you some help.”
Charlie used the cop’s vest radio to speak directly to the police dispatcher. “Officer down in the rear service hallway of Henry Ford Hospital. We need an ambulance immediately.”
“Who is this?” the dispatcher asked.
“Private security detail authorized by Detective Wallace. This is Charlie Mack.”
Find Me When I'm Lost Page 18
