Silver Lining - A Carpelli Adventure: Sequel To The Bestselling Thriller Fatal Mistake

by Cliff Roberts

  “Isn’t nice you get to play God with people’s lives. And don’t try to tell me you can tell the good people from the bad people?” She was getting upset, but since I had no place else to go, I continued.

  “Yes, I can. It is actually pretty easy, most of the time, to tell the good people from the bad people. We all do it, every day when we walk down the street. For me it’s a little feeling that makes me uncomfortable. But like I said, I don’t kill people. I have killed people but only in self defense. The other day when I was here, I had been hired to find out who had killed an associate of this attorney, which brought me to see you. You were extremely helpful and I’m grateful for that help, because the first thing you need to find out when investigating a murder is whether the person was actually murdered.”

  “Not an hour and half ago, I was standing next to the man, who hired me to find out the details of Collins demise. You explained the preliminaries findings to me the other day. This man and I were standing outside a restaurant and I was explaining to him why I wasn’t going to work for him anymore. It was due to his less than forthcoming behavior. in regards to why I was looking for the murderer of his associate and friend.” Doctor Anne just stood looking at me so I continued.

  “Anyway, we were standing there talking, outside of the House of Ale in Turkey Creek, when a biker in Diablo colors, raced up to us and shot him in the chest. Then he threw the gun at me, which I stupidly caught. It was simply a reaction, but now the gun is covered with my finger prints.” I stopped talking for a moment and this time, Doctor Anne interjected.

  “The Diablo’s are rumored to work with Smith and Jones from time to time. The fact that this guy standing next to you was killed by a Diablo means you’re in worse trouble than you thought. I haven’t a clue as what you think I can do to help you out here. I can’t rig the autopsy; I can’t hide you out or give you money. I…” I interjected now.

  “What I need from you doc, are a couple of simple tests, the results of which I’m hoping you can hold on to until I need them. I’ll pay you a reasonable fee for your trouble as well.”

  “Tests? Which tests?” she asked.

  “A gunshot residue and run the finger prints on the shell casings in the ammo clip.” I looked at her hoping she’d agree.

  “I can’t help you. I… ah… I’m already compromised by Smith and Jones.” She blurted out. I must have looked stunned, because she went on the defensive right away.

  “I have a son, he’s in his late twenties but he’s still my son and well he’s got a drug problem. Smith and Jones came to me a few months ago and told me they would forgive the debt my son owed them at the moment, if I’d sign off on an autopsy stating a certain gentleman, was drunk at the time of his death. He‘d supposedly driven off the side of a mountain after drinking way too much.”

  “That would have been Jason Carmel?” I asked.

  “Why yes it would, but how did you know?” she asked.

  “A new friend told me there were suspicions about the validity of the drunken driving charge.” I shared some of what The Oracle had told me.

  “Oh well, I can’t help that. Anyway, they were persuasive, explaining that my sons debt was growing daily because of his habit and the interest owed on the credit he received. Because of his continuing problems with drugs he has no car to sell, no house, no expensive art work, nothing of any value not even the clothes on his back. That meant the next time they stopped into see him, Daniel’s his name, they’d be breaking bones. The next time after that and there is always a next time with a drugie, they’d be cutting things off, like fingers, toes and maybe even his penis. Then when they went back a third time, they’d be killing him and harvesting his eyes, kidneys, heart and lungs. They said he owed them twenty-five grand and my signature on a piece of paper, a forged autopsy report, was worth twenty-five grand. I signed it even though the body showed signs of having been tasered repeatedly.” She stated as she stared down at the floor, clearly ashamed of having compromised what was obviously a murder to save her son. I needed her help so I pressed her hot buttons.

  “Doc, if you don’t help me, the best I can hope for is life in prison. But more likely I’ll be killed by either the biker’s or Smith and Jones before I even reach a Sheriff’s Station.”

  She started to walk away and my heart dropped like a stone, but she only went as far as the door before stopping. She took a quick peek into the hallway and the pulled the doors closed and locked them. She then flicked the light switch to off and said I needed to follow her, if I wanted any favors done. We left the Autopsy Theater by way of the rear doors and were quickly swallowed up by the darkness of the next room and a short hallway.

  “Say, Doctor Anne, did I tell you, I look good in the dark?” I asked just to lighten the mood.

  “Oh yeah, I can see that. Too bad about when the lights on,” She retorted.

  “Ouch!” I shot back.

  “Oh shut up, cry baby, before someone hears us and a rumor gets started I’m having an affair with one of the students.”

  “I can see how that could be an issue, but I can’t wait until we play doctor.”

  “Friday,” she responded.

  “Friday,” I mimicked.

  She reached out and took my hand, while giving me a stern look, in order to lead me through the storage room and into a second smaller room. She had surprisingly strong hands yet they were soft and tender. She flicked on the light, let go of my hand and closed the door to the room behind us. It appeared to be a small lab room of some sort. The walls were lined with the white cabinets and counters just like everywhere else in this teaching hospital. She went to a drawer in the bottom cabinet in the far left corner of the room and pulled out what appeared to be an ink pad, roller and several pieces of paper. She set them down on the counter next to me and I could see they were the standard finger print supplies. She then went to a second drawer where she pulled out several small plastic vials that were filled with some sort of liquid and had a small chunk of sponge like material covering one end. She set this on the counter next to me as well and then pointed to two chairs a few feet away and said, “Bring them over here and sit down.” I did as I was told.

  Once we had sat down she grabbed my left hand and used a couple of the sponge stopper topped vials to swab my hand in several different places. She then did the same with my right hand, belt buckle, and on the front of my pants and shirt. She then shook the vials individually for several seconds making sure the liquid saturated the sponge. She then held each one up to the light and then to a color chart. There was no change in the color of the test solution, indicating that there was no gunshot residue on my hands or my clothes. I hadn’t fired a gun in at least three days according to the test and that was exactly what I need to exonerate myself from any charges.

  She then took the finger print pad and dipped each of my fingers into the ink and rolled them out individually on the test pad. Then she dusted and printed the bullets and ammo clip from the nine millimeter that had killed Edward Holston, which hopefully will provide us with the real killer’s name. While we were finishing up, her beeper went off and she glanced at the number and then quickly tucked it back into her pants pocket.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “You don’t want to know.” She stated firmly.

  “Smith and Jones?” She just looked at me strangely, which told me I had guessed right. Somehow I just know.

  “Don’t you need to call them back?” I asked.

  “Maybe they’ll forget about me and hassle some other ME.” She stated and looked at the clock on the wall. Not quite three o’clock. She had finished with the finger print packaging and the sealing of the envelope with the gunshot residue test inside when her beeper went off again. She checked it again and shoved it back into her pocket.

  “Okay, I‘ve got to go. I’ll call if your prints happen to match the ones on the bullets and /or the ammo clip. Take everything except the two packages with you. I know it’s not as
kosher as you’d like but it’s the best I can do. No one can find a gun around here. If they do, I’ll be canned for sure and my career with it.” Doctor Anne explained.

  “Is there another way out of here? Someway other than the one I came in?” I inquired.

  “No, not from in here, why? It’s not likely anyone noticed you when you came in and they won’t notice you going out, either.” she dismissed me and my concerns out of hand and I had to admit maybe I was being a bit paranoid.

  But no sooner than we had walked back to the Autopsy Theater, than my paranoia proved to be well founded. As we entered the last big room behind the Theater, we heard someone rattling around in the metal trays filled with her surgical instruments. The doc she pointed to the left front corner of the room where there was a gurney covered in a surgical drape.

  “Get behind it,” she whispered and stepped towards the door. I didn’t have any choice really, so I dutifully obeyed. Once I was set, she stepped through the door.

  As she entered the room I heard her say, “I believe that door was locked when I left this room. It’s a serious felony offense to desecrate a body.” She smiled at them with all the warmth of an Alberta clipper in January. “What do you two want now?” I heard her ask snidely.

  “When did you decide not to answer your pager, doc? Are you trying to hurt our feelings?” A man questioned her. At first, I didn’t recognize the voice, having only heard it once before.

  “Sometimes in these old buildings, they don’t get very good reception.” She explained casually. Maybe too casually, because the next thing the guy asked was,

  “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Doc?”

  “In a heartbeat and twice on Sunday.” She spat. I had snuck up to the door as soon as Doctor Anne had stepped through it and stole a peek through the small window in it. Kelly and Washington, the dirty detectives, were standing in front and behind Doctor Anne in an obvious move to intimidate her.

  Kelly glanced at the door I was hiding behind and nodded to Smith. He turned towards the door and I jumped back. Hastily, I searched for somewhere to disappear to. It only took Washington four or five seconds to step over to the door and look inside. He switched on the overhead light and glanced about, but nothing seemed out of place. There was nothing in here accept the gurney. Washington stepped over to it and checked behind it as well as under the drape. Nothing. He glanced about one last time before he stepped back into the other room, shutting off the light as he went. While Washington had been checking the other room, the Doc skipped up next to Kelly and whispered in his ear.

  “We got trouble in the other room. Some private eye who apparently was working with Holston. He’s here asking for my help in proving he didn’t kill Holston.” The Doc shared.

  “We just framed him. How the hell did he figure he could come to you for help?” Kelly asked.

  “I think, other than Holston, I’m the only one in town he knows.”

  “So what does he want you to do for him?”

  “I’ve already done it. A GSR test, Gun Shot Residue and finger prints to match against those on the cartridges and clip.” The Doc continued to share.

  “So isn’t helping him beat the frame, sort of working at cross purposes?” Kelly asked.

  “No, not at all. It’ll give him a false sense of hope and make it easier for you to corner him with an even bigger frame when the time comes to eliminate our competitors.” The Doc explained.

  “Like Nolan and Mrs, Carmel.” Kelly stated as he grinned wickedly.

  “So you and Washington, play up the intimidation game and threaten my son a lot.” The Doc told him.

  “Threaten your son? Doc, he died over a year ago.”

  “Yes, we know that but, he doesn’t, so we can use him to do some digging into Nolan’s connections just like we were looking out for Mrs. Carmel’s interests. I have it all worked out. No worries. Okay, here he comes.” The Doc stated. Kelly quickly walked across the room to meet his partner and whisper instructions as they continued to walk over to the Doc.

  Once I was sure Washington had gone back into the other room, I slipped out of the old cold chamber that I had taken refuse in. Luckily, they had removed all of the latches so I wasn’t trapped once I had slipped inside. That was as close to a casket, I ever wanted to get while alive. Being claustrophobic, it took all my will power to get in there and to remain there quiet. I quickly slipped up next to the door to listen, as Washington explained he’d found nothing. Kelly took that as his clue to start the intimidation game, while Washington drifted to the door to watch for intruders.

  “Doc, you shouldn’t play games with us. If you’re not nice to us, we can hurt your boy,” Kelly stated without even a hint of hesitancy.

  “You could save us all a lot of trouble and just refuse to sell him anything.” Doctor Anne suggested.

  “Where is the profit in that, Doc? Besides we like having a reason to come see you. I bet you keep that old husband just panting around the house.” Kelly tried to flirt with her but she ignored him.

  “What do you want?” She asked curtly. “I’m extremely busy.”

  “Well, I’m afraid you’ll be even busier in a few minutes. There’s a body coming in. A male around thirty, gunshot wound to the chest. You’ll need to find that the victim was shot at close range in fact you’ll find that he was shot by someone standing less than a foot away.” Kelly explained.

  “And what do I get if I do?” She asked straight up no euphuisms for her.

  “We keep young Daniel in drugs and living in LaLaLand instead of being slowly cut up or his becoming a live organ donor. How’s that for getting something good?” Washington snarled.

  “Gee such a bargain.” She snarled back. “You got a name on the stiff you want me to lie about?” She inquired.

  “Now Doc, we don’t think of it as lying. We think of it as the enhancing of an otherwise dull report.” Kelly snickered.

  “The name?” Doctor Anne snarled.

  “Yeah, it’s Edward Holston. Oh yeah, the shooter needs to be right handed, too. About six foot.” Kelly shared. “You can’t frame the man unless every detail matches him to a ‘T’.

  “I can’t keep doctoring these autopsies for you. I will get caught and when I do, I’ll be sure to mention you two, right away.” Doctor Anne threatened them in return.

  Washington raced across the room from his perch by the door, grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the floor by her neck. He held her face to face and snarled,” If you get caught, your son dies and you along with him. Do you understand?” he dropped her.

  I’d pulled my gun and was about to storm in when three students walked in the hallway door. Washington instantly changed his outward appearance and demeanor. He reached out and gently touched her cheek in a seemingly more than friendly caress and stated loudly, “I understand, Doctor. We’ll do our best to help your son.” Then he and Kelly turned and walked out, as if they were a couple of saints.

  “Sorry Doctor, we got the wrong room. One of the students stated and they turned and left just as quickly as they had arrived. When everyone was gone, I stepped into the theater and stood waiting for her to speak. She had turned away as I stepped in, I think to hide she was crying. When she’d gotten it under control again, she turned around and looked at me asking,

  “Was that the man you were talking to, Edward Holston?”

  “Yes, it was. They obviously watched the whole thing because they knew what side I was standing on and what hand I favor. But aside from that, we’ve got to get you some help. Real help to get these two off your back.”

  “Oh, how do you think that can be accomplished? You gonna take them out?” she sarcastically snarled more at the situation than at me. “You’re being framed for murder by them. I doubt you can help me at all.”

  “You’re wrong doc. I’m going to try two things to help you for helping me. One, I’ll go have a talk with the dealers who are selling to your son and help them to see the wisdom of not
selling anything to your son again. Then I’m going to go see the Feds about helping you make a case against those two assholes and if that doesn’t work. I will do whatever is needed to end them and their reign of terror.”

  “You really think you can do that?” she asked, hope in her eyes.

  “Been there, done that, a few times. I need you to just play it cool and give me a little time to get things organized. I’ll call when I’ve arranged a meeting with the Feds. You’ll need to be flexible and attend whenever they decide to meet. It’s a deal breaker with the Feds. You meet on their time table and do as they say if you want their help.”

  “I’m off Friday and I meant what I said about being up for going to the motel with you for the afternoon and early evening, just say the word.”

  “I am looking forward to it. How many autopsies have they forced you to forge?” I asked.

  “Four. It started last year.”

  “Four, okay. You’ll need to get all of the papers together for each case. You didn’t by any chance happen to keep records of the actual causes of death did you?” I asked.

  Doctor Anne looked around as if to be sure no one else was in the room. Then she went to the door, opened it and looked into the hallway. She hesitated a moment and then turned around and started walking towards the back room, nodding with her head for me to follow. Once in the back room, she pointed to an old file cabinet in the far back right corner of the room and whispered. “I’ve hidden the papers under the file cabinet. Just pull out the bottom drawer all the way and reach behind it. Don’t worry about rats, there aren’t any, this is the morgue. Surprisingly one of the cleanest places on the planet, plus we get sprayed weekly.”

  “Okay, the papers will go with me. I think I have a safe place to hide them. If we involved the feds, once they’ve made their move, you’ll need to hide out; I’ll find someplace safe for you to go.”

  “I can’t take a leave. I’ll lose my status. I’ll be low man on the totem pole when I get back. My son will be exposed and they will hurt him.” She protested but I knew better. It was the right thing to do. “Is it better to be dead, but be number one in seniority or to be alive and lowest man on the totem pole?” I asked her rhetorically. She just gave me a nasty look and a huge sigh.