Forgotten Place

by LS Sygnet

  "For God's sake, Maya. I'm not proposing a trip to Uncle Nooky's Bar and Grill again."

  Dawning replaced suspicion in her eyes. "You plan on talking to Jerry Lowe."

  "I have to do it, Maya. You know it. I know it. Even Detective Mackenzie here probably realizes why somebody has to talk to him. Who do you trust to do it and get the answers we need? Orion? Lowe hates his guts. Crevan? Lowe thinks he's some coddled pansy. The only person he fancies his equal is me. It's why he wanted me here in the first place."

  "Swear to me that you're not gonna pull some stunt. You won't give Mackenzie the slip so you can dissect Lowe's brain by yourself. You're not going to take whatever you learn and go off to arrest Riley Storm alone. You won't –"

  "I'll talk to him and go straight home, where I will promptly share everything Devlin and I learn with everybody else involved in this investigation. I'll eat a big lunch and take my pain pills and have a nap with a teddy bear if it makes you feel better. I need to talk to Jerry Lowe."

  "But if Lowe's really in with Datello for all of this, aren't you worried that this conversation will tip Datello off to what you're doing?" Maya continued to argue against what we all knew had to happen.

  "There is no evidentiary link between what happened to Harry McNamara and Danny Datello. It's not even linked to David Ireland's murder. Believe me. If Jerry Lowe leaves that conversation believing anything, it'll be that we're after Riley Storm. Or better yet, Billy."

  "Helen, that would kill him!"

  "Lowe? We could be so lucky," I muttered.

  "Billy!"

  "I leave it to your gentle hands to deliver the news of Storm's ultimate betrayal. Billy's not a suspect, but we can't pretend letting Lowe or Storm believe he might be isn't a gift. They set this game into motion. I intend to use it to my advantage."

  Chapter 23

  On the drive to Fielding where Lowe was currently being held, I reflected on a number of seemingly random events. I had heard the name Dunhaven uttered often enough, ironically first by Datello when I notified him of Gwen Foster's murder. I wondered if his mention of the mental hospital was ironic or foreshadowing what he feared I would learn if I stayed in town long enough.

  Thoughts of Agent Ritter bounced around my head. Could Sully Marcos have been connected to Nick and Kim Jackson? Was my attempted murder truly unrelated to Rick and Sully and Danny? I glanced at my wrist watch. Almost eleven.

  "Let me use your cell phone."

  While the phones on the walls and tables in the house were returned, Johnny hadn't restored custody of my iPhone to me. Yet.

  I dialed the familiar number and pressed Devlin's Blackberry to my ear.

  "David Levine."

  "Hi," I said. "It's Helen."

  "Yes."

  "I need a favor, David."

  "That's very interesting news, but I'm afraid this isn't a good time to discuss personal business, Mr. Carlyle. Perhaps you could –"

  "David what's wrong?" I sat up straight in the front seat of Devlin's Crown Vic. "It's me, Helen."

  "I understand," he said. "Perhaps you could meet me for dinner or drinks tomorrow night and we could discuss this in person."

  "Seriously? You want me to come to Washington?"

  "That would work best. Can you free up the time in your schedule on such short notice?"

  Not really. Not with Orion watching me like a hawk. Then again... he had been starkly absent for the past day. "I'll see what I can do, David. I'll call if I can't make it."

  "Very good, Mr. Carlyle. I look forward to seeing the portfolio recommendations."

  He disconnected the call before I could fish for more information in code. I stared at the screen. "What the hell…?"

  "Bad news?"

  "Confusing," I said. "My mentor at the bureau, we've remained close even though I quit abruptly last spring."

  "And that's who you called?"

  "Hmm," I nodded.

  "Sounds like he wants to see you in Washington. That could pose a problem given Orion's restrictions."

  "Yeah. He wants me there tomorrow night, Devlin. I could swing it, but not without a lot of help."

  "And I suppose you see me as the coconspirator in this scheme."

  "He called me Mr. Carlyle. Do you know what that means?"

  "Either he had a very bad connection, or he didn't want the people around him to know he was talking to you."

  "Bingo."

  "On which?"

  "Smart ass," I grinned only briefly. "There are things happening in the FBI, things that relate to my ex-husband's death, the man he laundered money for, it's complicated. If David wants to see me in person, it must be serious enough that he's not comfortable discussing it over the telephone."

  "He could come here."

  "No," I said. "If he can't talk to me on the phone openly, he can't suddenly pack up and come out for a visit. I've got to get to him."

  "What about this case?"

  "There was a reason I called to ask for a favor," I said. "Nobody has absolutely linked Mitch Southerby to the Marcos crime family. I'm pretty sure I saw his name in connection to Marcos, but it's been a long time since I had free access to that information, Devlin."

  "Right. He was the guy your ex laundered money for, right?"

  "Yes, so as a matter of course, I was kept far away from the investigation for more than two years. That's what I need from David, evidence that Southerby was one of Marcos' men."

  "There's got to be a better way of going about this, Helen. If you sneak off tomorrow and fly to D.C., Orion will have a fit, and you know it."

  "Not if I don't go alone."

  "You're going to ask him to go with you?"

  I summoned every ounce of sincerity I possessed and gazed at detective Mackenzie. "Johnny and I had a relationship that ended badly a couple of months ago, Dev. He blames himself for me getting so..."

  "Malnourished?"

  "Weak. His reaction was to get bossy, which was one of the reasons things ended between us. I've been on my own for a very long time, and I don't take well to being told what to do or asking for permission. I caved in to his demands this time because it was easier to go along than to fight him, and I honestly didn't realize how weak I had become."

  "All right."

  "If Johnny decides to show up and take control of my household again tonight, and I ask him to come with me to Washington, I'm afraid it sends a message that isn't exactly accurate."

  "Like you're willing to reconcile with him?"

  "I won't lie." A lie in itself. "Part of me will always care for Johnny very much. There's a chemistry that we share, I think it's obvious to everyone. It doesn't make us a perfect match, and I can't lose sight of that, not now. Not when he's ready to move forward with someone else."

  "So who would take this quick trip with you, Helen, if not Orion?"

  I stared hard at the hands folded in my lap. "You could come with me."

  "Ah, I don't know about that. I'm the new guy around here, Helen, and on top of that, we're supposed to be working this case that has a whole lot of people on tenterhooks, hoping we can finally get some hard evidence against Danny Datello."

  "But it is related to our case. David will still tell me what I need to know about Mitch Southerby. It's just that he has something else he needs to say in the meantime."

  "I don't want to lose my job."

  "Devlin, I'll take full responsibility for this trip. I'll even lie and say that I told you Shelly approved it, so nobody will blame you for getting the wool pulled over your eyes. Hell, you're the new guy. How could you possibly be familiar with my modus operandi?"

  "You're not gonna try to give me the slip while we're gone, are you?"

  "Now why would I do that, when I asked you to come with me in the first place? I learned my lesson in October. I'm not going anywhere without someone to watch my back."

  "Our flirting this morning aside, I get the feeling that you wouldn't care who that person is, as long as it's not Joh
nny Orion."

  "I wouldn't go that far," I said. "But it is my preference to keep some distance between Johnny and me. Apparently he's come to his senses too, which is why he disappeared yesterday afternoon on his so-called personal business. You're not going to upset him by doing this with me, Dev. On the contrary, he'll probably give you a medal."

  "I'd feel better about this trip if you really did talk to Lou about it, Helen."

  "I like Finkelstein, don't get me wrong, but people are a little too eager to do as Orion says around here. If he doesn't like it that my friend wants to see me, and I promise you, he does not like David Levine, he'll put the kibosh on this trip so fast it'll make your head spin. The problem I see with all of this, is our need to have evidence that links Southerby to Datello. That link lies in the information that the bureau has on Sully Marcos."

  "Agreed. All right. I'll do it, but you have one shot with me, Helen. You lie to me once, and I call Orion. Clear?"

  "As crystal."

  Devlin pointed to a four story building situated on a marshy flat southwest of Darkwater proper. "Is that the place?"

  "I've never seen Dunhaven before, though I've heard it mentioned." The name itself suggested a dark place of refuge, dun referring to a dark brown color, and haven being the refuge. Either someone had a sick sense of humor when they named the hospital, or they had a poor grasp of the etymology of the English language.

  The construction was old, at least seventy years. The stone walls were indeed dark brown, no doubt weathered into their current state by the damp air and propensity for brown moss when the weather turned cold. As we grew closer to the building, I noticed the peeling white paint from the windowpanes, the lack of modernization that was all too common in hospitals used to house the mentally ill for treatment.

  There were no trees around the building, simply a field fenced in by chain link with a single loop of barbed wire at the top. "They don't hide the notion of incarceration in this facility, do they?"

  Devlin snorted. "Maybe during another era the place was properly secured." He pointed to the white crushed rock spread thickly over boggy soil. A gate stood wide open. Anyone with the fortitude to escape wouldn't need to worry about scaling a fence topped with rusty barbed wire.

  A long concrete sidewalk connected the parking lot with the front of the hospital. It bore evidence to the poorly chosen construction site. Deep cracks were visible where the earth had swelled and shrunken over the years. Sharp mountains of concrete peppered the walkway in irregular intervals. Between the cracks, more moss and dried grass covered the soil.

  "Almost pretty in a depressing, desolate way," Devlin said. "You ready for this?"

  "I'm not sure. We might catch some flak for trying to talk to Lowe without counsel present."

  "Like you told Dr. Winslow. We're not here about his crimes. This is about what Billy Withers may or may not have done."

  It sounded good in theory. If Lowe had been a model patient, we might run into roadblocks thrown up by those convinced of his innocence. "Let's see how far we can get before we have to resort to calling Zack Carpenter. I'd really rather not tip our hand in this."

  We stepped through the front door, the most modern thing I'd seen so far, steel fire doors with wired glass windows, and into the lobby. The sterility of the room told me two things. Dunhaven had no money for things like comfortable reception seating or paint that wasn't depressing and putrid, and whoever was running the hospital placed cleanliness on par with godliness. There wasn't a speck of dust in the cavernous lobby. The two-tone paint, forest green on the bottom third of the walls and an anemic sea green opposite on the upper two-thirds of the walls might've been old, but was pristine. A few banks of chairs were pressed against the walls, mostly burgundy upholstery that had been patched with a kit whose color was not an exact match.

  I stepped up to the window that encased a receptionist of some sort behind more wired glass. Devlin tapped his badge against it to draw the attention of the middle-aged woman sitting behind the counter.

  She pushed a pair of glasses up her nose and depressed a button. "May I help you?" crackled through the speaker of the ancient intercom system.

  "Detectives Mackenzie and Eriksson here to speak with someone about access to a patient," he said.

  "Name of the patient, please."

  "Jerry Lowe," I said.

  The hand about to smooth away an errant wisp of salt-and-pepper from her cheek froze midair. "Excuse me, did you just say Jerry Lowe?"

  "Yes, ma'am," I gave my most sober expression in a little staring challenge. "Right away, if you don't mind."

  "I'll have to get Administrator Sykes to see you," she said.

  "See what I mean?"

  Devlin stuffed his badge into the lapel of his coat. "I'd like to arrest every last person that so much as hints at obstructing police work, but I guess that wouldn't fly with the general public would it?"

  "You could always keep shoving them out of your way," a tiny smirk crept over my lips. "As I recall, that's one way of handling the situation."

  "I didn't know who you were."

  "Just another pesky civilian in the way, eh, Dev?"

  The heavy metal doors behind us buzzed loudly before the lock could be heard clicking. A silver haired man in a three piece suit appeared. "Detectives?"

  Devlin stepped forward. "Mackenzie and Eriksson, sir, Downey Division."

  "I'm Monte Sykes, hospital administrator. How can I help you?"

  "I would like very much to speak to Jerry Lowe," I said.

  "Dr. Eriksson, I promise you, the last person Mr. Lowe will ever consent to see is you. In fact, he has made numerous threats against your life since his commitment to this facility."

  "I'm sure he has," I said, "but the matter I'm here to discuss has nothing to do with the pending litigation against him."

  Sykes perched one hand on his hip. "Truly?"

  "Completely unrelated to his alleged crimes," Devlin backed my play and took it a step further. "As a matter of fact, Mr. Lowe's extensive knowledge of the history in Darkwater Bay puts him in a very unique position, Mr. Sykes. He could prove helpful, which I'm certain no one in law enforcement would forget."

  "I can ask if he's willing to meet with you," Sykes said. "Please come inside and wait in my office."

  When we were alone, I arched one eyebrow. "No one in law enforcement would ever forget this?"

  "Hey, it got us through the door. If what you said about Lowe was true, I suspect he'd see you no matter what, Helen. Sykes was dragging his feet about this. Haven't you stopped to ask yourself why?"

  "No need. He doesn't want an angry lawyer crawling up his ass because he escorted two cops in to meet his client without legal representation. We live in a litigious society. I'm sure Lowe would love nothing more than a civil suit to prolong his fifteen minutes of fame."

  "True enough."

  Five minutes later, Sykes was escorting us through more nausea green hallways until we reached a locked unit. "Mr. Lowe has agreed to meet with you, Dr. Eriksson. Alone. Against my better judgment and in the presence of staff who witnessed his request, he has also refused to allow me to contact his attorney."

  "Helen, you're not going in there alone."

  "It's all right, Devlin. Mr. Sykes, is there a place where Detective Mackenzie can observe the interview?"

  He nodded. "He won't be able to hear anything, but he can watch. Mr. Lowe will be restrained during your visit. Given the threats he's made against you, we felt it would be a prudent measure when he insisted on seeing you."

  "I'd like to see him now," I said.

  Hesitation was written all over Devlin's face. I stroked his arm with one hand. "I'll be fine, Devlin. This has to be done."

  Chapter 24

  Jerry Lowe was strapped to a chair with a leather restraint at the waist and two at the ankles. His hands rested loosely on the tabletop. "Forgive me for not rising. They've taken my words of anger and frustration completely out of context."r />
  I sat across the table from him. "Did Mr. Sykes tell you why I'm here?"

  "It wouldn't have mattered. I would've insisted on seeing you. How are you recovering from that horrible incident, Helen? You look a bit wan."

  "Your concern is touching, Jerry. I'm recovering nicely, thank you."

  "So what urgent business brings you to my own version of hell?"

  I pretended to stare at the table and drummed my fingers while peeking at Lowe's reaction. "It's the oddest thing," I said. "I'm here about your predecessor."

  "My who?" Lowe didn't fidget and looked genuinely confused.

  "Harry McNamara of course."

  "Oh. Oh yes. Harry. Gosh, that's been so long ago, I'd almost forgotten about him."

  "I understand that you made a rather heroic effort trying to save his life."

  "Anyone would've done the same, truly. Harry might've been a doddering old man, but he was a likable sort. The men respected him." Lowe tilted his head to one side. "As I recall, Harry died of a massive heart attack or some such. Surely you've got better things to do with your time than investigate death by natural causes, Helen."

  "You'd think, wouldn't you, Jerry? Unfortunately, it has come to our attention that there were cases of gross mishandling of the dead after they reached the morgue. Since you were around in those days and probably aren't feeling too kindly disposed toward cloaking the sins of others in Darkwater Bay, I thought hey... maybe Jerry Lowe could give me a history lesson on the medical examiner's office in this county."

  He stared for a moment before breaking into a grin and wagging an index finger at me. "Ah, you are every bit as good as they said you were. You almost got me, Helen."

  "Are you telling me that you bear some sort of culpability for malpractice at the morgue, Jerry?"

  "Not at all, but I figured it would only be a matter of time before the bitches in this city set out to smear every man that held the job before them. I hear Don Weber is replacing me with some broad from the east coast. First Winslow, then you, now another one from your territory. Folks are going to start feeling that our homegrown talent isn't good enough for the politicians in this state."