by LS Sygnet
"Because he's that fond of you, Helen. A lot of people are."
They needed to get over it. I chanted my new escape mantra in my head while Ned drove back to division. Johnny was waiting in the Expedition when we arrived.
"How did it go?"
"You'll hear about it with everyone else tonight at dinner." I shot Ned a warning glare and climbed into the front seat.
"Guess we'll talk at dinner, Johnny," Ned's voice floated through the open driver's door. "Apparently I've got an alibi to confirm."
Johnny drove in silence for several blocks. Finally, "Did you rest this morning while I was talking to Samantha Wine?"
"Define rest."
"Nap. Sleep. Let your body have a chance to heal."
I stared out the window in sullen silence. Johnny sighed. "I picked up the file on the Ireland murder while you and Ned were talking to Linder. If you're not exhausted, I thought you could take a look at it this afternoon. Linder was a dead end, wasn't he?"
"Yes."
"So we're turning our attention to the only obvious link."
"I have no say in the matter, apparently. Do whatever you want, Orion. It's obvious OSI is willing to stoop to any low to maintain control of everything in Darkwater Bay."
He signaled and turned into the parking lot of a drive-thru coffee house and parked at the speaker. "One tall dark roast, one tall decaf cinnamon latte with extra whipped cream."
"Decaf?" I groaned.
"You don't need a stimulant revving up your metabolism, Doc. And the extra calories are a no brainer. Relax. You might like the fat and sugar in your coffee."
"Hell, why not order a bucket of whipped cream to go? If it gets rid of you faster, I'm all for it."
Johnny stared ahead, the only telltale sign that my words hit a raw nerve were clenched fingers around the steering wheel. I imagined he'd have preferred them wrapped around my bony neck.
Chapter 14
Johnny deposited me on the leather chaise in the study with little more than a pointed stare when we got back to my house. He turned over custody of the Ireland murder book to me and left my super-fat, decaf, sugar-fest in a cup within reach and disappeared for parts unknown. The urgency of the day's events left me little choice. Rebellion against Johnny's wishes had to take a back seat to closing the investigation into the murder attempts on Journey Ireland.
Everything was inextricably linked to everything else. Journey, her father, Mitch Southerby, Danny Datello. Datello, Rick Hamilton, Sully Marcos, some compost heap in New York, and now possibly my home-brewed terrorists that tried to kill me two months ago. What a can of worms my foolish hero had opened.
I blocked out the deafening silence and started reading the case file. Other than Orion's relentless pursuit of Southerby, the investigation seemed pretty cut and dried. There was no overt link between Southerby and Datello. Southerby and Marcos on the other hand, were alleged associates. Good old Mitch was a suspect in several crimes back home, most relating to union disputes and the sudden disappearance of the squeaky wheels challenging the status quo.
Dad's wisdom flooded my thoughts. That rootless existence, the one time job, being your own boss – inevitably, ignoring it had led to the downfall of a lot of men in Dad's line of work. Southerby put down roots with Marcos, much like Franchetta had. Stupid mistake. Even though Dad was in prison, he wasn't dead like Southerby.
I flipped to the last notation in Johnny's file, the details on what happened after Southerby collapsed in the interrogation room.
At approximately 14:18, suspect requested water. Detective Briscoe left the room to retrieve it. Suspect then requested a new ink pen to sign his confession. Detective Orion stepped out of the interrogation for no more than one minute at approximately 14:20 hours. Upon returning, suspect was found lying on the floor, barely breathing. Resuscitation initiated by Detective Orion while Detective Briscoe summoned EMS to the scene with care transferred at 14:22 hours. Suspect Mitch Southerby pronounced dead by EMS en route to Metro State University Hospital and diverted to Bay County Medical Examiner's Office for autopsy.
I dropped the file to the floor and shot off the chaise. "Orion!"
Johnny flew through the door between the study and the sitting room outside the master bedroom. "What's wrong?"
"Since when do paramedics pronounce death?"
Johnny frowned. "All the time, Doc. They don't deliver dead bodies to the hospital for a doctor to certify death. They pronounce, and the ME's office takes over."
"How long did they work on him before they left Downey?"
"A few minutes. It felt like forever. Why all the questions about Southerby's death?"
"I'm not sure. Something doesn't sit right with me about it." I started pacing. "He wasn't old, correct?"
"Late thirties."
"Stupid Riley Storm. I wish we had his actual cause of death."
"You think somebody murdered him before he could spill his guts about Datello?"
"Don't tell me it never occurred to you. Christ, Johnny, even Shelly went nuts when another detainee died at division. It was shades of Southerby all over again. If you didn't think the cause of death was suspicious, why did you file a motion to force Dr. Storm to perform additional toxicology testing?"
"Because it was inconceivable to me that the little weasel died of natural causes."
"He was alone when he collapsed. Were you taping interviews at the time? Videotaping, I mean."
Johnny shook his head. "We had a battery operated tape recorder on the table. That was it. Chief McNamara had big plans for modernizing the division's equipment, but at that time, the only place he got upgraded was the new facility out on Hennessey Island. Big surprise, huh? Rich folks got the best building in the city and the divisions that needed the equipment the most were left out in the cold."
"How long ago did that change?"
"I don't know for sure. I think the lieutenants finally got together a few years ago and got some kid from Metro State to help write a grant application for the money. God knows Jerry Lowe had no interest in bringing law enforcement to a higher standard. I guess God and the rest of us know why now."
"It could've been suicide, but if Southerby had no qualms about confessing to murder... it doesn't make sense. Why kill himself? He could've gone to prison with a badge of honor and probably gotten parole after twenty-five years. You all don't use the needle out here do you?"
"Technically, the death penalty is still available, though no prosecutor in the state has sought it since the Supreme Court lifted the ban in the late 70s."
"Maybe he didn't want to be the test case for reviving it. The murder of a popular assistant district attorney would've warranted special circumstances." I tapped one finger to my lips and started pacing. "Was Billy Withers at the ME's office when all of this business happened?"
"I think so. Why?"
"I'd like to talk to him about what he remembers. I can't get past the fact that somebody disposed of Southerby's body and all the fluids and tissue samples that would've been collected as standard procedure during the autopsy. Maybe he remembers something. Seeing unusual activity. A link between Storm and Datello. Who knows?"
"I grilled everybody who worked out there after Storm smugly informed me that the court order was moot because the body had been misplaced, probably released and not properly documented."
"Was he in the habit of releasing the evidence along with the body? Maybe it's Riley Storm that I should talk to."
"You'd get farther with Datello, Helen."
"Speaking of the little troll, do we have any idea where he is or what he's been up to this week?"
"OSI is watching, as always. It's been business as usual, but Danny would never be so careless to drop his façade of law-abiding citizen for a second, especially not if he was involved in an attempted murder."
"Was Lowe the chief of detectives when you arrested Southerby?"
"Not quite, but he was lobbying hard at the time."
"And
Harry McNamara died before Southerby was in custody."
"Yeah. Heart attack."
"Riley's favorite," I muttered. "If Storm did someone a favor by disposing of Southerby's remains before anything could be proved beyond what he certified as the cause of death, I could sure use some leverage to persuade him to tell me the truth."
"Good luck with that. Riley is... different."
"Aren't you all."
Johnny steered me back to the chaise and nudged me down. He crouched in front of me. "I wish you would believe me when I say that I'm doing this for your own good, Doc. I'm not trying to punish you or cut you out of the case. In fact, this has nothing to do with the job. Why is that so hard for you to believe?"
I turned away from the probing eyes. "I get it that you'd feel guilty or bad or whatever if I died. It's the methods I find objectionable. I'm not a child. I'm not your girlfriend. I'm nobody, Orion. I'm not your problem."
His fingers tugged my chin into a head-on view. "Is that what you think? That somehow I see you as my problem?"
"You'd be better off if I did die. The secret would go with me to the grave. It would be justice for what I did, for the way my reluctance to tell the truth led you to do something very stupid. I am a problem, Orion, whether you choose to see it that way or not."
Johnny stared at my right knee. "I hoped it would give you some peace of mind, Helen. I never dreamed for a second that what I did would send you into a tailspin that resulted in this." His hand waved vaguely from my head to toe region.
"So I'm your problem."
"I'd be a monster if I didn't bear more than a little bit of responsibility for this."
"Fatten me up and ease your conscience."
He looked up quickly. "It's not like that. It's gonna be... well, let's just say that I won't be happy to see you leave Darkwater Bay in the near future. I can't let it happen until I know you're healed and not," he paused. "Shit."
"I'm not shit?"
"Skeletal remains."
"I concede that I lost sight of recovery. I'll even admit that it was easier to bide my time waiting for the immobilizer to come off by letting the oxycontin help me sleep through the past few weeks. I'm eating. I'll get better. You made your point."
Soft laughter chuffed from his throat. "Is it possible to trust someone completely on one hand but not at all on the other?"
"I don't know what that means."
"Doc, you might be completely sincere, but I don't trust you to tell me the truth. I think if I walk out on you before I'm sure you're at least eating halfway normally again, that you'll revert back to wine and pain killers before I hit the gate."
The argument would never end. Trust could never grow. Hell, it couldn't even be bandaged unless I came clean and told Johnny the truth. Doing that would give him no choice but to arrest me. It would ruin his life. A taste of house arrest for a little over twelve hours already proved to me that I'm not cut out for prison by any stretch of the imagination.
I cleared my throat. "I'd really like to talk to Billy Withers."
"Maya wants to see you."
"Shit is right," I muttered.
"You know how she'll react to this, don't you?"
Nod. Stare at the floor. "I get it. I fucked up."
"You should try to get some rest before dinner. Our meeting got pushed back to eight, because I wanted to make sure you didn't feel like people are watching how much you eat and counting the calories."
"Except for you."
"That's different, Doc. I'm the one person you can trust to never betray how bad this really is. Go try to get some rest. I picked up your apples and peanut butter. I'll bring something to you and you can catch a nap for an hour or so. Deal?"
I had two choices. Press the argument. Let it go. I chose the latter. "Fine, but the more you feed me now, the less hungry I'll be at dinnertime."
"Smooth or chunky? I wasn't sure which you liked, so I bought both."
Big eye roll. "Well heaven forbid I miss the calories I might get from chunky peanut butter."
He brought a cup normally used to hold cocktail sauce with a heaping scoop of the aforementioned paste and half a dozen peeled apple wedges. And a cup of hot cocoa.
"You never miss an opportunity, do you Orion?"
"You looked cold." Johnny opened one hand and extended two white tablets with red T's imprinted on the surface. "Dr. Malcolm was kind enough to call in a five day prescription for something called Toradol. He said it was helpful to you after surgery, and you could use it for a few days without any problems."
No more comfortably numb for me. I tossed them back and sipped the cocoa. Johnny sat near the bed while I worked on the apple snack. Annoying as hell. There was only one surefire way to make him go away. Cooperate.
"All done?"
I drained the cup of warm, sugary fat and handed it to him. "One hour. You wake me either way, got it?"
"You won't miss the meeting tonight. I'll call Billy and see if he can join us. You should be prepared for Maya to storm the gate if she finds out."
It was more than an hour, closer to three when I woke spontaneously. Unless my nose deceived me, dinner was almost ready. The familiar dull ache that habitually numbed my fingers on waking after any sleep at all was absent when I sat up. I flexed my fingers. Maybe the Toradol wasn't such a bad idea after all.
Johnny had a cookbook open on the kitchen counter and a variety of pots and pans on top of the stove. I sniffed appreciatively, despite deepening resentment.
"Smells good. What is it?"
"The only thing I can cook well. Veal parmigiana and linguini."
"You used a recipe."
"I suppose that cheesecake you made in October was from memory and scratch."
"Absolutely." I pulled out a stool at the breakfast bar and sat down. "Do I get a nice glass of wine to go with dinner?"
"As long as there's no oxycontin on the pharmaceutical menu tonight, that can be arranged. Provided I do the pouring."
"Every time I think you cannot insult me more, you come up with something new."
"You left a glass in the office, Doc. More like half a bottle dumped in a rather deep bowl shaped like a wine glass."
The clock chimed six. "Two hours before they show up. What if I'm too drowsy from dinner to stay awake that long?"
"I've seen how long it takes you to stop playing with your food and actually eat it. You'll be fine. It's not quite ready yet anyway. Why don't you go pick out the wine while you wait?"
I returned a few moments later with a bottle of Castello d'Abola chianti and passed it over for approval.
Johnny lifted one eyebrow. "I said we're having veal, not the census taker's liver with fava beans, darling."
I grinned. "You're sick, you know that? Chianti is great with veal. Gotta learn to trust me on at least one thing, Orion. Let it be something simple like wine."
He stared at the label. "I didn't mean that I don't trust you, Helen."
"You do but you don't. It's hard to argue with the truth. I haven't always been a shining example of honesty."
"I'd give anything if you'd open up to me, Doc."
Give a little, get a little, eh Orion? I cleared my throat. "I didn't realize how I was making all of this worse until Dev knocked me over and my shoulder started aching worse than ever. Dr. Chesney gave me a wakeup call that I needed."
"I'm glad for that. Speaking of the shoulder, how did the new medication work?"
"All right." I rolled the left shoulder without wincing. "Too bad he only gave me five days’ worth."
His eyes narrowed. "You aren't getting a little too reliant on pills are you?"
"I know. You'd rather I develop a food addiction."
Johnny wasn't about to take it lightly. "These medications are dangerous, Helen. I wish you would take what's happened to you seriously. Go sit down. The veal is ready."
"I am sitting down."
He jerked his head toward the table. "A real meal. Good food, conversation,
chianti. What more could you ask for?"
"Freedom," I said softly.
Chapter 15
For as small as Maya is, it was downright comical watching her claw her way past Billy and through Orion into my house. She skidded to a halt in the foyer for two seconds before closing the last three feet separating us and crushing me in an embrace.
"Jesus Christ and General Jackson. Why didn't you call me?"
"Maya, I'm fine."
"No," she whispered, "no you're not. I thought he was just being dramatic." Maya pulled away and looked at me with damp eyes. "I don't know if I should hug you or beat some sense into that thick skull of yours. What were you thinking?"
Orion, the obvious one of alleged dramatics, had the good sense to intervene. "She's doing a hundred percent better now, I promise. She was never so far gone to argue the fact that she's fine."
"And standing right here. You don't have to talk about me like I've faded away into nothing. What're you doing here, Maya? There's no victim for you in this case. Can you believe it? We snatched one back from the clutches of death."
"I heard all about it from Billy. After Johnny called this afternoon, we decided to dig through the archives of the Most Highly Incompetent and have a look at his work at the time. You're not gonna believe what we learned." Maya patted the thick attaché case slung over one shoulder.
"Don't keep me in suspense," I said. "Spill it."
"Hold that thought, Maya. You and Billy are the first to arrive. Eager as Doc is, there are some other ears with legs attached doing the hard work on this case. I think they'd be interested in what you discovered too. Can't you ladies find something else to discuss while we wait?"
I glared while she looked supremely pleased with his presence.
"You want me to discuss something else? How about the fact that you've cut me off from the world, taken my phones, my keys, locked me in my house, hid my guns –"
Maya's eyes widened. "Why on earth were you looking for guns, Helen?"
"Did you miss the rest of what he's doing? Have all of you lost your minds?"
She hooked her arm through mine and tugged me toward the family room. "I'm not sure you're thinking clearly, my friend. Thank God Johnny stepped in and did something about this before I lost all patience and busted in this place. If I'd found you in this condition you'd be in the hospital this instant, involuntarily if need be. Who is this moron doctor that allowed you to waste away to nothing?"
