Maria screamed.
He charged again, but I picked him up as he got close. He looked surprised.
I used his momentum to hoist him up over my head. Then using his weight, I slammed him down into the floor. I stood up.
He lay there with his eyes wide. Maria had gone quiet.
"Want some more?" I asked quietly.
"Stop, please," Maria said in a shaky voice. "This will make it worse."
I looked up at her. "You should leave," I said.
She shook her head no.
"Really, you should leave. This guy doesn't deserve you."
That seemed to give him strength. He started getting up. "I will teach you respect," he said as he got to his feet.
"Whatever," I said.
I looked back at Maria. "Please. Answer a question for me. This is what I've wanted to ask you. What did you see or what do you know about the night Kelly Brandt died at the motel?"
I never got an answer. Glass smashed behind me. I spun around. Next thing I knew, I had the jagged edges of a broken beer bottle thrust into my stomach.
The glass bit into my flesh, and he kept driving it in. I toppled over, and still he drove it into me. I could feel the wetness of my own blood start to seep over me.
He'd got me right in the abdominal muscles and I couldn't fight against it without the jagged edges digging deeper into me.
Suddenly, he jumped up and ran out. I groaned and was unable to get up. My own blood was pooling on the kitchen floor. I felt sick and burning in my stomach area. The blood was pouring out of me.
Maria called for an ambulance. "I am sorry," she whispered. "He is a bad man."
Weakly, I nodded.
The ambulance came and got me. What I remember faded in and out. I think I had some emergency surgery to stitch me up.
Much later that day, when I was clear-headed, I lay in the hospital bed and thought about how this was the first job I'd taken that had gotten me in the hospital twice.
Was it worth it?
Of course, this time was purely my own fault. I should have left Maria. It wasn't really my business, and I'd probably made the situation worse for her.
Then again, if I ran across that punk again, it would be brass knuckle time. I'd crack his face open and let the goo run out.
It was then that I remembered Gracie. I called a nurse into my room and asked for my cell phone. It was given to me.
I accessed my voicemail. There were two messages. The first was from Gracie.
"Hey, it's your bud Gracie. I looked and there was an autopsy done. Again for that to happen they had to suspect foul play, but it's still officially listed as suicide, and there's no open investigation on it. So you know. No gas tanks were reported on the site, but you must be a genius dude, because you nailed it. Helium was in her blood stream. I looked online. It's what you called it. Inert. Hope that helps."
The next message was from my wife. It was short. "Call me."
I called Gracie at the police station. I caught him moments before he left for the day.
"I feel bad," I said. "But I can't take you out for those wings tonight."
"Dude, don't sweat it," he said. "I'm sure we can hook up later."
"Yeah," I said. "And I'm not blowing you off. I ended up in the hospital with a fight that went badly."
"Oh, dude," he said. "Get well soon, okay?"
We hung up. I would have to go drink beer and eat wings with him sometime. I owed him.
Next I called my wife, but she didn't answer. I left a brief message.
Back to what Gracie had told me, Kelly Brandt had helium in her bloodstream. That would indicate suicide, but the problem with that were the missing tanks of gas.
Helium didn't come from nowhere. No wonder the cops were suspicious of the whole thing. Parts of this didn't add up.
For the first time, I believed Macy. Up till now, I didn't really. I figured that I'd find out that Kelly had committed suicide.
The kicker for me was the lack of gas tanks. Helium wasn't something you breathed in the air, and helium gas tanks don't have legs. Someone had used an exit bag on her. Someone had wanted her dead.
Macy poked her head into my room. "Ray?"
"Macy? What are you doing hear?" I asked.
She came in and she looked even bigger to me than last time I saw her, if that were possible. If she got any wider, she'd have trouble making it through doorways.
"I got a friend who is a nurse. She called and told me about you," she said.
"I think that's illegal," I said. "Patient privacy and all that."
"Shh," she said. "If I hadn't known, I wouldn't have brought you these balloons."
Indeed, she had brought a bouquet of brightly colored balloons.
"Thanks," I said.
"I was hoping this didn't happen while you were looking into my mother."
"Well, kind of," I said.
"Oh, Ray," she said. "That makes me feel awful."
"Don't worry," I said. "I'll be fine. And it was nice of you to stop by and bring balloons."
"You know," she said. "I had no idea how much balloons cost. Far more than I would have guessed."
"Really?" I asked.
"Twenty bucks for this," she said pointing at the balloons she brought in.
After some more mindless chitchat and well wishing, she left. I looked up at the balloons. Balloons were expensive?
It certainly wasn't the rubber or latex or whatever they were made out of. It had to be the gas they were filled with. Helium.
Chapter 23
It was the helium. Now that I was thinking about it, I remembered something from way back about helium being a hard gas to isolate. That made it expensive.
Not only that, but there were probably only a limited number of places you could buy helium from in town. It wasn't like dish soap or trash bags.
I'd guess there would only be a handful of places that would sell it. With that thought, I rang for the nurse again.
I requested a yellow pages book, and she got one for me. I looked up helium, and there was a heading but it said to look up party supplies.
So I thumbed over to party supplies. There were three of them.
With my cell I called them. One of them didn't sell helium, but the other two did.
I asked if they had any thefts of helium. Both thought the question weird, but the answer was no.
So, two places in town sold helium. I'd visit each. I was closing in. I could feel it.
The next morning I was released. I didn't go home. I was on a mission, and I headed straight for the first party place. They were a total bust. They hadn't sold any helium in the past month.
The second store was in the vicinity of where Carlie Smith lived. I took that as a good sign as I entered.
There was an older gentleman who looked up as I came in.
"Good morning, sir? Can I assist you finding some items?"
"Actually I have a question for you," I said. "I understand you sell helium for filling balloons."
"We can supply you with helium," he said.
"Have you sold helium to anyone in the last several weeks?"
He looked confused. "Yes, we have."
"Would you know if a Carlie Smith bought some?"
"Uh, I don't know. What is this in regards to?"
I took out a business card and handed it to him. He took it and walked around the sales counter. "So you're a private investigator? Has this person been bouncing checks or similar?"
"I can't discuss it," I said. "But would you be able to tell me if Carlie Smith made a purchase here?"
"I can tell you," he said. "We keep a record of all the sales of helium because we need to get the tanks back. They are merely rented. We sell the gas inside and rent the tanks."
"I follow," I said.
"Let me look up in my records." He flipped through a book full of pencil markings. After a bit he looked up. "Are you sure you have the first name right?"
"Why?" I aske
d.
"I have someone here by the name of Smith, but it's not Carlie."
"Does it start with a 'C'?" I asked.
"No," he said. "It's listed here as Adrienne."
"Adrienne?"
"And she hasn't returned the tank yet either."
"Adrienne?" I repeated. "Do you remember her?"
"Hmm," he said and seemed to be in thought. Then his face showed recognition. "Yes, she was the child."
The kid sister of Carlie. Yep, it was her.
"What do you remember about her?" I asked.
"I remember her now. I sold her a tank of helium and balloons. She said she was getting them for a party her older sister was having."
"Carlie sent her," I said. "Clever of her."
"I didn't catch that," he said.
"Nothing," I said. "Thanks. You've been helpful." I left. It was time to get a confession, and wrap this one up.
I drove to the apartment of Carlie Smith. I parked outside and walked up the steps, and I pounded on the door.
Carlie answered, and there was an immediate coldness in her eyes when she saw me.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"Either you come out here, or I'm going to go inside your place," I said.
"What is this about?"
"Guess," I said.
"I'm going to get a restraining order on you. You really bother me." She tried to shut the door.
I jammed my foot into the opening before it could close. She leaned on it. It was an old wooden door, and I could hear it cracking a little bit under her weight. My foot was starting to hurt too.
"Let's talk about Kelly Brandt," I said.
She shoved harder on the door.
"This isn't going to stop me, you know," I said.
"I'm calling the cops," she said. Her voice was shaky, as if she'd started to cry.
I slammed my shoulder into the door. The impact took her off her feet and she fell to the dirty, linoleum floor inside. I entered and closed the door behind me.
Once inside, I did the chain bolt to better secure the door.
She'd gotten part way off the floor and now she crawled backwards from me in a motion resembling a crab.
"What is it you want?" she demanded. Indeed, it did seem she'd started to cry.
"What happened that night with Kelly Brandt?" I asked.
"It's really none of your Goddamn business," she said trying to sound tough.
"I've made it my business. What happened that night? Did you get into a fight with her?"
She looked shocked. "No!"
"Tell me what happened," I said.
She crawled back past the stove and fridge in the kitchen. Their outside door opened up into the kitchen. She was now near the entry way to the rest of the apartment. Using the entryway for support, she got to her feet.
"I don't want to talk about it with you." She disappeared through the entryway.
I followed. Now we were in a dirty living room. The furniture and carpeting were old, torn, and dirty. Laundry was randomly strewn about on the floor and furniture.
The walls were the darkest wood paneling I'd ever seen. It made the whole room feel very dark and small.
"Carlie!" I said. "You must tell me what happened that night."
She sank down into an overstuffed chair that had a yellow T-shirt draped across the arm. She put her face into her hands.
"What do you want to know?" She was sounding rather emotional now.
"You met Kelly. Then what?"
She looked up. She looked resolved. "I don't have to talk to you."
I didn't answer.
"You shouldn't even be in here. This is trespassing."
"Carlie," I said. "You will talk to me before I leave," I said.
"We had sex," she said. "Okay? I had sex with a woman! Are you happy now? I said it. Are you happy?"
"I already knew you had sex with her," I said. "What happened after that?"
"I left," she said in a quieter voice.
"Immediately after?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"And Kelly?"
"She was going to leave too," she said.
"You are lying to me," I said.
"How would you know?" she asked with a bit of irritation in her voice.
"You killed Kelly," I said.
Her face went white. Even her lips were drained of color for a moment. "I killed Kelly?" she whispered.
"Didn't you?"
For a bit she didn't answer. She merely stared at me with glassy eyes. "No," she said in a faraway voice. "No, I didn't kill her. I really liked her."
"Did you pay to spend the time with her?" I asked.
She snapped back to reality and the hardness was in her eyes again. "Yes, I did," she said. "What difference does it make to you?"
"You suffocated her," I said. "You put a bag over her head."
"I did not!" she said.
"But you did."
"What possible evidence could you have?" she asked. Now there was a bit of panic in her voice. Her eyes were open wider now. She was starting to look a bit like a trapped animal.
"Helium," I said. "Kelly Brandt was suffocated with helium."
"Sounds stupid," she said under her breath.
"You got helium for a supposed party not long before this," I said.
She didn't answer, but the look on her face said everything.
"And you haven't returned the tank yet," I said.
"How could you know that?"
"Know what?" I asked.
"That I had a party with helium-filled balloons? How could you know that?"
"I'm a detective," I said patronizingly. "It's my job to figure things out."
She stood a little unsteadily and put a hand to her forehead. "You're going to tell the cops, aren't you?"
"Tell them what?" I asked.
"That I killed Kelly." She walked to the center of the room still like she was in a daze.
"Well, did you?"
She whirled around. "No! But you're going to tell them. And you're going to give them all your 'detective evidence'. I'm going to get arrested."
"If you admit to it, it will be better for you," I said. "Perhaps they will even cut a deal with you."
"Look . . . guy, whatever your name is. I didn't do it. Okay? I was told Kelly committed suicide. That's all I know. I didn't do anything to her."
"Bondage? Rough sex?"
"Ha!" she said. "With Kelly? No, she wouldn't do that stuff."
"You're putting on a good act," I said. "The police might even buy it."
"I'm not acting," she said frantically. "I didn't kill her! I didn't do it. Why would I? She was the one woman I really loved to be with. She was amazing." She started crying again.
"But she didn't love you back. So you killed her?"
She screamed an ear-piercing scream. "No!"
For a moment, I let it be. I gave her a moment to collect herself.
"Okay," I said. "Tell me what happened that night. Give me the details."
She calmed down a bit. "Okay. I got there at about 9pm. Kelly had already arrived. I met her up in the room. I left the money on the dresser and then we were together in bed for about half-an-hour. After that, I left."
"You left before Kelly?"
"Yes," she said.
"And she was alive when you left?"
"Yes!"
It was the oddest thing. I came over here convinced that I had this one nailed. It was Carlie. It had to be Carlie, but now I wasn't sure.
Carlie didn't have any alibi, but she was convincing. I decided to try another route.
"What's an exit bag?"
"A what?"
"An exit bag," I said. "What is it?"
She looked confused. "I don't know," she said.
That hadn't trapped her. She seemed as if she honestly didn't know what it was.
The front door tried to open, but the chain stopped it.
"That's my little sister," Carlie said. She got up. I
followed. She let Adrienne in. The girl didn't say hello or anything. She walked right by.
The two of us were left standing in the kitchen.
Abruptly I said, "I got to go."
At my car, I felt confused. Was Carlie that good of an actor? Did she do it or not?
I got in and drove away, but I wasn't heading anywhere. I knew it had to be Carlie. She had the helium. It was all about the helium. I drove out to the main highway.
There I aimlessly drifted down it, not really going anywhere. Driving and trying to make sense of this.
I looked to my left and I drove past the recreation plaza. It was filled with a bowling alley, a miniature golf course, and an indoor rock climbing wall.
I hit the brakes. The car behind me almost hit me.
I got to the side of the road, and I got the finger and an angry honk. At the side of the road, I called information from my cell phone.
"Carlie Smith," I said.
A few moments later the automated computer repeated back a phone number. I called it.
"Hello?"
"Carlie? It's Ray, the guy that was just over there," I said.
"What now?" she said.
"I need you to meet me. Something important has come up."
"What?" she asked suspiciously.
"You'll agree to meet me or I'll have the cops at your place in five minutes," I said.
"Fine," she said. "Where?"
"The indoor rock wall, at the recreation plaza," I said.
"Why there?"
"Be here in ten minutes or there will be issues," I said.
She hung up.
When the traffic allowed me to, I made a u-turn and took side roads back to Carlie's apartment.
Back up the wooden steps I went. I knocked. No answer.
I knocked again. Finally the younger sister answered.
"Adrienne," I said. "Hello."
"Hi," she said to me.
"I want to come in," I said.
"My sister isn't here," she said.
"I know," I said.
"You were just here," she said.
"I know," I said.
"I can't let strangers in," she said.
"You're a teenager, right? I think you're big enough to decide who you'll let in," I said.
"Whatever," she said, but she opened the door.
I went in. "Let's go to the living room," I said.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"Can you show me your computer?" I asked.
Death of an Escort Page 18
