Death on the Sound

by Wayne Saunders

  “That’s okay Mandy. We agreed to take our time. You know we don’t have to have sex on every date. I enjoy being with you for you. The sex thing started because I’m just weak, and you looked so cute that night.”

  Mandy looked around before she spoke.

  “Abby it wasn’t anyone’s fault. We both were into each other that night and I loved making love to you, that’s the problem. I hadn’t ever done that before, and it scared me a bit. I didn’t think I was wired that way. Maybe a movie date this Friday, are you available?”

  “That would be great Mandy. I’ll pick you up at six, and we’ll get some dinner beforehand.”

  Mandy gave a quick glance around and then commented.

  “I’d like that Abby, Friday it is.”

  Tom came ambling up and slid into the booth.

  “Okay, enough yakking ladies, I need to see a menu.”

  I sat down across from Tom and Mandy set our menus down and walked away. I caught myself watching one of her better parts as she moved away from me, down the aisle.

  We finished out the day with no more calls. Tom and I looked through city records to try and find out when construction was last done on that sight. We found out that the last construction took place twelve years ago, and that the office building never panned out, and it was sold at a loss.

  Tom and I went through missing persons records for twelve years back. We were halfway through by five. We’d finish up tomorrow. Tom had called his doctor true to his word and the doctor’s nurse had set him up for a fasting blood test. He’d have to do it in the early morning and not eat for at least twelve hours before the test. I gave him a pep talk, and told him he had to do it. It wasn’t an option. He made up his mind he’d do it the next morning. He’d stop at the clinic on his way to work and get it over with. I wished him well as we separated on our way home.

  Chapter 3

  I was at my desk continuing our search, when Tom walked in at eight forty he had a bandage on his forehead.

  “Tom, what happened, didn’t you get your blood test this morning?”

  “I need coffee, back in a sec.”

  I watched him shuffle in and shuffle out with his cup in hand and sit across from me.

  “Okay, you’ve got your coffee what the hell happened to your head.”

  Tom scanned the room for any spies or whoever --- I had no idea. You’d think he was trading national secrets. He finally leaned closer and spoke.

  “I hit my head.”

  “What? You went to give blood.”

  “I gave blood and hit my head.”

  “Tom, the two don’t go together. You give blood and leave the room. Quit being so cryptic, what the hell happened, in plain English please.”

  He started to get red around the jowls, and it slowly moved up his face. His eyes were darting from side to side. I was about to reach across and slap him, when he finally spoke again.

  “I fucking passed out when they stuck the needle into me. I fell out of my chair and hit my head on the coat rack. There that’s what happened, satisfied?”

  I had to hold back my chuckle. I quickly slapped my hand to my mouth to restrain my urge to laugh out loud. I had no idea Tom was one of those people that were afraid of needles. I removed my hand, and put on my most serious look.

  “I’m sorry you had such a rough time, but it’s over now, and your secret’s safe with me.”

  Tom looked up with a scowl, which after I sat grinning at him, turned into a begrudgingly given grin.

  “It’s just embarrassing as hell Abby. I’m a damn detective for Christ’s sake. I’ve seen dismembered bodies and brains on the sidewalk, and not even flinched.”

  His fingers went up to the bandage on his head. He softly rubbed it like Aladdin had given him a wish.

  “Okay, sympathy given and received, let’s get to work on the rest of these names.”

  We worked until nine when we got a call down in Pioneer Square. A seventy nine year old lady had been attacked. Tom was on his way to the last doughnut in the coffee room, and I gave him the evil eye, and he held up his hands in surrender as he turned and followed me to the elevator. I let Tom drive again, he’d had such a shitty morning he needed some slack. We arrived at the corner of Yesler Way and Second Avenue where we spotted the black and white, and pulled in behind him. Pioneer Square is a six block area of the city that used to be Seattle downtown in the old days during the early nineteen hundreds. The buildings had been restored, and were full of high end shops and restaurants. It was a stone’s throw from the Safeco Field, which brought in business when the Mariner’s were in town.

  I walked up to the officer nearest to us and got a nod.

  “Hi detectives, we’ve got an older woman who had her purse snatched or to be more accurate they tried to snatch it. The victim is Agnes Mosley, that’s her in the brown dress with my partner, and the snatcher is Terry Dawson, that’s him on the ground by the USA Today paper box. We’ve called a medical unit.”

  “It doesn’t look like too much was snatched” I commented.

  “No, Ms. Mosley seemed to have it well in hand. If it's okay, I’ll turn it over to you, and we’ll get back on patrol.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  I walked up to the other officer, and he nodded as I approached. The diesel exhaust from the busses was hanging in the air between the old buildings. We were between weather fronts, and the wind had decided to leave town for awhile. My eyes were starting to burn.

  “Ms. Mosley I’m Abby Masters, and this is my partner Tom Culhane we’re detectives. I know you’ve told your story to this officer, but I need to hear it too.”

  Ms. Mosley epitomized the word feisty. She had the look that said “don’t mess with me”. She was about five feet nothing with well coiffed hair. You could tell she was not one to skimp on her appearance. Her brown two-piece was direct from Nordstrom.

  The ambulance arrived, and Tom walked over to stand guard over our mean purse snatcher while I talked to Ms. Mosley. I moved her away from the bus stop, and we stood near an alley that luckily had a slight breeze for the sound pushing through it. I could breathe again and my eyes stopped stinging.

  “Now that we’re out of those bus fumes, could you please tell me what happened?”

  “I was walking to the Sound Art gallery up the street. I’d just gotten off the bus on Yesler and was walking along when I felt a sharp tug on my purse. I turned to find that young man trying to remove it from my arm. My arm was through the strap, so I pulled back away from him, and grabbed a hold with my other hand as we both pulled at my purse. I pulled with all my might and it broke free from his grasp. I spun around and hit him with my purse, and he hasn’t moved since then.”

  I looked at the purse and the young college kid lying on the sidewalk.

  “What do you have in the purse Ms. Mosley? I ask that only because normally a purse won’t put a snatcher down like that.”

  “I have my wallet and my brick.”

  “Your brick?”

  “Yes, my brick. Actually, it’s only half a brick. A full sized brick is too much to carry.”

  I could tell Ms. Mosley thought it was normal, but I didn’t. I had to ask.

  “Why are you carrying a brick in your purse?”

  “For the very reason you see before you. I was attacked, and I responded. If I hadn’t had my brick, I’d be on the ground, and my purse would be gone. We older people are getting accosted all the time downtown, and we need some kind of protection. If you police can’t handle it, then it’s up to us to take care of ourselves.”

  Ms. Mosley’s eyes were glistening with fire as she spoke. She was on her soapbox now.

  “I understand Ms. Mosley. I’m sorry you had to haul out your weapon, but I’m glad you had it along.”

  I took her information, and after she said she didn’t need any more help, I let her walk on to her art gallery while I checked on Tom.

  “What’s up over here? Will he survive?”

  “Ye
ah, they’ve got him awake now. He really got his bell rung, so they’re taking him to Harborview for a test or two. I’ll send for a black and white to meet the ambulance there.”

  Tom walked back to the car to radio in while I watched the two hundred pound idiot get his head bandaged. At times, its frustrating being a detective, and seeing the people you arrest out on the street in a matter of hours after you’ve had them in handcuffs. And there are the times when the bad guys get their just due, like our purse snatcher. I was sorry the old lady was attacked, but also glad she was prepared. I hoped I was that prepared when I was seventy nine.

  Tom and I cleared the call and headed back to the station. By the end of the day we had a list of sixty four names that it could be, at least, that had been reported missing. Transients go missing all the time, but no one reports them missing. Their world is different than ours. I called

  Maya to see if she had any information that could get us started on our list of names.

  “Hey, Maya, Abby, I was just checking in to see if you had any information yet. Tom and I have a list of names of missing persons. If you could tell me whether they were man or woman and maybe a height, we could narrow it down.”

  “Hold on a sec Abby, let me get the file.”

  I heard Maya moving files around her desk. She was a detail oriented technician. She wasn’t disorganized she just had a lot of dead bodies, and the associated paperwork to manage every day.

  “Okay, Abby here’s what I have so far. It’s a female in her twenties. She was shot in the back of the head with what looks like maybe a twenty two. The skull was crushed a bit around the bullet hole, so I’m guessing on the caliber. She was maybe five four. That’s it for now. The other tests aren’t back yet. I hope that gets your list narrowed down some.”

  “That helps a bunch.”

  There was as they say, a pregnant pause, I thought Maya was going to say something, but she didn’t.

  “Well, thanks for the quick turnaround Maya; I know you’re busy over there.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow when the rest of the test results come back. Goodnight Abby.”

  “Goodnight Maya.”

  I’d always sensed a bit of interest from Maya, but she never pursued it, and I didn’t want to make the first step right now. I was seeing Mandy and one man along with one woman which was enough to handle.

  I almost asked Abby about dinner but chickened out. I knew she was busy, and I wasn’t sure what she’d say. If I was going to pursue anything with Abby, I needed to get a backbone or at least be able to tell her what I wanted.

  Chapter 4

  Tom and I worked on pairing down our list the next morning. In the middle of it all, he got a call from his doctor to come in that afternoon at four thirty. It’s hard enough to get into doctors' offices nowadays, and when they fit you in this quick after a test, something’s going on. Tom covered the mouthpiece and spoke in a whisper across the desk.

  “Are you available this afternoon at four thirty to go to the doctor with me?”

  I gave him a thumbs-up, and started to prepare myself for a bad news afternoon at the doctor’s office.

  I got my call from Maya at eleven.

  “Hi Abby, sorry but no new earth shattering evidence but if you could send me the names of the women on your list I can get going on the dental search.”

  “They’ll be on your email in less than a minute.”

  I quickly typed in the names of Janice Conrad, Teri Jorgensen, Jenny Talbert, and Sharon Keller and hit send. I hoped we’d get a match from one of these if we didn’t the continuing search was going to be a bitch.

  At three thirty, Tom and I marked us out of service, and he drove me to his doctor’s office on Queen Anne Hill. He was quiet as we drove. We both knew it wasn’t going to be a fun afternoon. At four fifty, Tom and I sat in a bar four doors down from his doctor’s office. The light was practically nonexistent, and the waitresses were amply endowed with swaying breasts held in by skimpy tank tops. It was pretty repulsive, but then young women weren’t there clientele.

  The doctor said Tom had Type II diabetes and that he needed to get with the program quickly, or his health could change rapidly for the worst. Tom had a folder about diet changes and exercise plans, plus a prescription to help maintain insulin levels. He sat looking down into his drink as he stirred it with his finger, a habit I gave him crap about every time. Today, I let it go.

  “Tom, give me some feedback. You took in a lot of information this afternoon. Are you ready to change your lifestyle around?” I asked.

  He pulled his finger out of his drink, and sucked the scotch off the tip of his finger and then took a large gulp.

  “Abby, I don’t know if I can do this? I’m almost sixty fucking years old. I’ve been living like this for most of those years. How do I flip the switch, and turn most of it off?”

  “You need to look through the information, make a plan, and then stick to it. You’re not going to change everything overnight, but Tom if you don’t start you’re going to die a very painful death. Do you get that?”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  He was looking down at his glass as he twirled it on top of the table.

  “You should start now after your drink, and stop alcohol too. I don’t know what the reasonable quantity is but it’s, for sure, not one a day.”

  Tom looked like he’d really lost his best friend. I felt sorry for him, but he had to keep himself alive.

  “Well, now see what you’ve done, I have to go to the bathroom; back in a minute.”

  As I watched him walk away, I thought of the father I never knew. He’d decided to leave my mother and me when I was seven. All I have is a small picture tucked away somewhere in a faded photo album. The last time I think I saw it was when I moved to Lake Union.

  Tom returned, and he pushed the rest of his drink toward the wall and away from him.

  “I’m ready to go home Abby. I think I’ve had enough for one day. Do you want me to drop you at home?”

  “Actually, could you drop me by Harborview; I’d like to go see if Maya has any hits yet.”

  We drove pretty much in silence for the few miles to Harborview. I let him think about his next steps. It had to be him making up his mind, not me.

  I waved to Tom as he drove away, and told myself I’d call him later tonight to see how he was doing. I walked through the hospital to the back elevator and pressed the down button. The brightly lit lobby with its modern art pleasing to the eye was good camouflage for the floor below that handled almost all of the dead in King County.

  The elevator doors opened, and I walked down the well lit hallway to the very end and turned through the double doors into the morgue. There were six individual large rooms and one main operating room at the far end that had three tables equally spaced apart. They all were spotlessly clean and ready for the next visitor. I turned down the hall to my left, heading for Maya’s office. I walked into the doorway to her office, and she was heads down on her computer. I stood and looked at her for several seconds. I noticed the wisp of hair hanging down next to her eye and her delicate fingers gliding across the keyboard; just a few more seconds and then I softly knocked on her door jamb. She looked up and smiled.

  “Hi Abby, I think I may have some good news for you. Have a seat I shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”

  I sat across the desk from her taking in the exotic dark skin and sat watching her eyes. I loved her eyes. We’d known each other for two years, and had conversations on several occasions at crime scenes, with our lunches and dinners scattered in the middle. She never mentioned a boyfriend, and as I scanned her desk there were no pictures. In fact, there were almost no personal items on her desk or on her office walls. As my eyes scanned the nearly blank walls of her office, I heard the triumphant thwack of her finger hitting the enter key. I looked over at her as she was standing.

  “Back in a minute, I need to retrieve some printouts.”

  She was wearing sla
cks, a white silk blouse that was open wide at the neck showing a canvas of dark soft skin with a hint of cleavage at the bottom and a gorgeous piece of gold jewelry dangling at the center. I listened to her clacking heels as she moved to the work area down the hall to get her printout. As the clacking sound was returning, I was debating with myself about asking her out. The mystery of her was overriding my already full dance card. I never finished the debate she walked into the room, and sat down next to me.

  “Okay Abby, here’s what I’ve got. Using the names you sent over to me, which, by the way, saved a lot of time on this, I found a match for Sharon Keller. The report on her is that she was a homeless girl of twenty five. She worked in clubs when she could, but lived in flop houses around the core area. Her mother reported her missing eleven years ago, along with another person whose name is in another part of the file, that’s what got her on your list. That’s it Abby, you have all there is to get from this one,” she said, her sultry eyes locked onto mine.

  Maya slid the output over to me as I stared at it. It was something but not very much. But then that’s why I like what I do, figuring out the puzzles.

  Maya’s perfume was entering my space, and it was activating more than just my sense of smell. I glanced over at her to see the radiant smile, and those gorgeous eyes boring into me.

  “Thanks for all your work on this Maya. It really helps to have a starting point and a name.”

  I smiled back with my best smile, and decided to take a shot. I had to pursue the mystery of her.

  “Okay, change of topic. I haven’t eaten yet. Would you like to get a bite downtown?”

  Maya’s eyes stayed on me as her smile went from bright to half bright. I was preparing myself for the rejection. Her eyes continued to look at me as I stood my optical ground, and looked back into hers. Half bright in her sultry eyes changed back to bright, and her soft voice responded.

  “I’d like that Abby, let me clear up my desk, and we can go.”

  After a short discussion, we decided on Italian, which surprised me but I didn’t say anything to Maya. I thought she’d opt for oriental food. I hailed a cab in front, and we were off to Al Boccalino on Yesler. The dinner was great, and so was my dinner companion. We exchanged family history, and I found out that she’d had so much oriental food growing up that although she liked it, she really loved Italian. We laughed and naturally talked about work; the one thing that linked us for now. I did find out that she lived up the hill from me in a condo overlooking Lake Union, and when I told her I lived on a houseboat the topics of conversation opened up even more. As I grabbed the bill and gave Maya’s hand a soft slap as she tried to hijack it, I commented.