Too Dark To Sleep

by Dianne Gallagher

  “So why are you here, Ms. Quinn?”

  “I’m concerned.” Maggie said sincerely. People like Rebecca and Marcus always protected what was nearest and dearest. Themselves.

  “Oh, really.”

  “Please, just listen. I know we really mishandled this whole situation.”

  “It’s a witch hunt, pure and simple. You need to solve a crime and my husband is a convenient target.”

  Maggie wouldn’t call him convenient. Walking in and turning himself in, now that would be convenient. “I understand why you’re angry and I apologize. I mean it. I’m very sorry, Ms. Harding.”

  Rebecca paused. Harding. Well, at least the woman got the name right. Funny, she expected Quinn to come on strong, angry, bully her. Instead, something very different was opening up. Maybe Marcus was wrong. Not possible. Marcus was never wrong. Maybe she was wrong. “Is that why you came? To apologize?”

  “Ms. Harding, there is genuine concern for you and Marcus,” Maggie paused. “Especially for you. And your safety.”

  “I couldn’t be safer than here in my own house with my husband. Now if you will please leave.”

  “I understand.” Maggie hung her head feigning defeat. “Look, can I just leave something with you. Please. You can look at it when you want. If you want… I just…” Maggie kept her eyes down.

  “What is it?”

  Maggie just needed to stay meek. Meek and well-meaning and she would have Rebecca Harding. She let out a long sigh. “I don’t want to cause problems. Really, I just… I… it’s just that there’s some concern.”

  “For heaven’s sake, give it to me.”

  Maggie handed over a sheet of paper. Rumpled, not clean. So it didn’t look like it was printed for the occasion, but retrieved in desperation. “It’s the dates of the various deaths being investigated. I just want you to look them over and try to remember when your husband gave you the gifts he did. That’s all. Just that one thing.”

  Rebecca’s face changed quickly. “Get out.”

  “Look,” Maggie shook her head, “I knew how you were going to take this, that’s why I waited… but I can’t wait anymore. I’m not saying your husband is guilty…”

  “The hell you aren’t.”

  For a moment, Maggie wondered if Rebecca swore when Marcus was around. “Just listen. For your own protection and for your husband’s. The receipts your lawyer provided indicate Dr. Galen bought all the jewelry he gave to you from the same store. From the same sales woman. Angela Murphy.”

  Maggie hoped the message was received. Rebecca wouldn’t open up if Maggie accused her husband of murder. However, she could use his infidelity. That had to be a sore point.

  “The same woman every single time,” Maggie repeated.

  “That’s not unusual. Marcus likes to stick with the people who know their business.”

  Maggie flashed a sympathetic smile. “I don’t think jewelry is her business.”

  Rebecca’s face tightened.

  “Angela Murphy may very well be connected to the real killer. My concern is she’s using your husband to unload incriminating evidence.” Maggie paused. “She might have something against Marcus. A grudge. Some kind of vendetta.”

  Maybe your husband slept with her a few times, she wanted more and he wouldn’t give it to her. Maggie hoped Rebecca was thinking the same thing. By the look on her face, she was.

  “If this woman knows someone involved in the killings, she might just be using your husband to get rid of the victims’ jewelry. To frame him.”

  “Because she’s jealous,” Rebecca said, nodding to herself. It made sense. Women were always attracted to her husband. “I think you should leave now. Before I call the police.” It was not so much a threat as a requirement. An instruction given to her by her husband.

  “Of course.”

  Rebecca Harding wouldn’t call the police. Or her husband. Maggie knew that much. But she would go to the jewelry store. Rayney was out of the car and trotting up to Maggie. The rush of adrenaline mistaken for fear.

  “You okay?”

  “Yep.” She grinned. “Piece of cake.”

  When they got home, Maggie finished an entire bowl of chili without any argument. Three more days and she would fulfill her promise. Rayney originally pushed for two weeks, but Maggie countered. The final deal included a week of ten hours of sleep each day. Maggie would have to live with it. She made a deal.

  “Want to play something?” Rayney asked as he cleared the bowls.

  “I should work,” she said.

  Angela tried not to make noise as she pulled the file cabinets out. The inventories were around someplace. She knew it. The Mazettis were old world. They favored handwritten receipts and typed inventories.

  “Sure, I’ll just check in the back.” It was her manager. The door opened ever so slightly. “Hold it, just wait. I think I put them over here.”

  The door closed again and Angela let out a long breath, then kept flipping through folders. There. There it was. The inventory file. At least part of it. The older records should be farther back in the cabinet. She found them and jammed the papers into her bag.

  The entire drive home, Angela worried that something would go wrong. Someone would discover her. The papers would be lost. Something would go wrong and she would lose her job. It was a great place to meet men. The right kind of men. Like Antoine. Looks, brains, obviously a kind heart. And money. The complete package.

  When Angela arrived home, she pulled out her mother’s old typewriter and started making new lists. Marcus had told her how to add the items so no one would suspect. In a few hours she would have new inventory lists which she would misfile tomorrow so they could be accidentally found by her manager. She felt a little uncomfortable about changing the inventory, but it was for Marcus and she would do just about anything for him. He looked out for her. Even gave her a story to use in case the police got suspicious. She was to tell them about a woman named Maggie Quinn and a visit she made to the jewelry store when everyone else was on their lunch break. Angela always took a late lunch. Even though she had never actually met this Quinn person, Marcus was sure the police would believe the story. The woman wasn’t stable and had a history of spreading lies. No one, Marcus promised, would believe Maggie Quinn.

  “Quinn came by today,” Rebecca Harding said as her husband mixed his evening drink.

  “To the house?” Marcus Galen took a quick sip of scotch, then added another finger to the glass. “I hope you didn’t speak to her.”

  “I did.”

  “That was a mistake, Rebecca. You should have no contact with that woman. She’s just baiting us,” Galen said calmly. “They do that. They want us to make some sort of mistake so they can point at it and stretch it into something more. That’s how the police work.”

  “Yes, Marcus.” Rebecca nodded. She picked up a book and pretended to read for a few moments. “So I went to Mazetti’s today.”

  “Really? Did you see anything you liked?”

  “No, not really.” Rebecca flipped a page. “But I saw something you might like.”

  Rebecca glanced over at her husband. Marcus thought he hid his roaming eye, but he didn’t. Rebecca picked up on every single look. The waitresses, the shop girls. Wives of friends. She lived with it because that was the kind of man Marcus was. His energy drew people in, especially woman. When they met shortly after his second divorce, Rebecca was swept off her feet. Marcus walked into a party dressed like a fashion plate and talking like a Nobel Prize winner and that was that.

  Their first year together was spectacular. But as time went on and Rebecca traveled more, there were more late nights. More “emergency surgeries.” Marcus could’ve left her, like he had his other two wives, but he didn’t. He stayed with Rebecca. He wanted their marriage to las
t and so did she. He made promises and she made it work. Until now.

  “Her name is Angela Murphy. Very attractive,” Rebecca leveled a stare at her husband.

  “Did Quinn give you her name? You realize she’s just trying to upset you. Make you doubt. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “New cologne. More late nights. Encouraging me to travel.” Rebecca flipped a page. “So how long have you been fucking her?”

  “Rebecca!”

  “Don’t play stupid with me, Marcus.”

  “I don’t know what this woman said…”

  “Angela didn’t say anything. Not a fucking thing.” Rebecca’s eyes were wild as her voice became louder, more disturbing. “She didn’t have to. I just had to look at the fucking girl. I just had to look at her and I knew. You’re fucking her.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that,” Galen said quietly. He wife’s rages didn’t bother him much because Rebecca was so pliable once they passed. However, he didn’t like the language she used during them. It was coarse and she was not a coarse woman. Not his wife. “Please, just calm down.”

  “She didn’t have to say a goddamn, motherfucking thing. Jesus, Marcus.” Rebecca threw the book at him. “Not one goddamn, fucking word. You asshole. You fucking asshole.” Her hand was out and anything within reach was thrown to the floor.

  “Stop it,” Marcus said calmly.

  “Fuck you, Marcus. I do everything for you. I live for you and what do I get? Angela. Some stupid, fucking salesgirl.”

  “Stop it!” The doctor’s voice was loud as he reached for his wife’s shoulders.

  “No, you stop it, Marcus. You stop it.” Rebecca pulled away and ran into the bedroom.

  He heard the lock flip and the first sounds of breaking glass. Marcus Galen slowly walked upstairs to his study and closed the door so he wouldn’t hear Rebecca ripping their room apart. He picked up the phone and dialed a number etched in his brain. One he took special care to find. It was answered faster than he expected.

  “Stay away from my wife.”

  “So she found out about Angela, huh?” He could feel Maggie Quinn smiling through the phone line. “Rebecca should be a detective.”

  “Stay away from my wife.”

  “You must be in pretty hot water.”

  “Stay away. Stay away from me. Stay away from my wife.”

  “Or what?” Maggie said.

  “You have nothing to connect me to these murders. Nothing.”

  “So which came first, Marcus? Being a doctor or being a killer?” She waited for a reply, but there was none. “I’m just curious.”

  “Why don’t you leave me alone?”

  “I think maybe you liked the killing first. See, after I talked to your old biology teacher. You know, Mr. Bales from seventh grade.”

  “You talked to…”

  “He said you were always bringing in things. Animals you found killed on the road. He thought it was odd that they were already cut open, dissections already started. Only, I’ll lay money they weren’t dead when you found them. Kind of like those two little dogs.”

  “You…”

  “Yeah, Bales is getting up there, but he remembered you, Marcus. Right away, he remembered you. Everyone remembers you. That’s what makes my job so fucking easy. I’ll be talking to some of your fellow medical students later.”

  “You need to stop. You’ve got no right to… ”

  “Just doing some research. There’s nothing you can’t find if you know the right people,” Maggie said. She could hear Galen’s breath through the phone receiver.

  “I’m calling my lawyer.”

  “Go ahead. Call him. He’ll check out your wife’s story, then Angela’s story. The girl may be loyal Marcus, but she won’t hold up. She’s not that clever. That’s why it’s so easy to use her, right? Pavlak will have to throw the receipts out and you’ll have a record as a liar. No more honest, reliable, upstanding surgeon. And that’s when it all falls apart.”

  “You have no right…”

  “And you’ll probably even have to explain this phone call. Can’t erase that from the records, you know. How is it you had my number, they’ll ask? It’s not listed. I never gave it to you. Why would I? What would I have to gain?”

  Marcus Galen slammed the phone down. He needed to get out. A good scotch. Rebecca wouldn’t care. She was still rearranging their bedroom. Marcus headed for the Duke of Perth. He asked the waiter to seat him in the back, out of the way. The first scotch went down fast and easy. Not too quickly, Marcus told himself. It never looked good for a doctor to get sloppy in public. A little food should offset the effects. Galen ordered a bloody burger, something he only ate when he was alone, and another scotch. He sat back and listened to the sounds of the restaurant as he nursed his second Macallan, then something caught his ear.

  Wally Anderson. No one else laughed like that.

  Galen followed the sound to a table near the bar. Pembry, Winston, and McNeal, along with a handful of others. The table was full of empty glasses and plates of half-eaten appetizers.

  “Gentlemen,” Galen said with a smile. “I seem to have missed the call about this evening.”

  The table was silent.

  “You didn’t miss the call,” Wally finally said.

  “I see gossip travels quickly,” Marcus said.

  “So does the truth.” Wally Anderson glared at the surgeon. It was obvious he was one of Quinn’s people. The ME would believe her before he would believe Marcus Galen… which made the cardiac surgeon pause.

  “Wally, you didn’t…” Pembry tried to mount a reprimand, but was cut short.

  “No, it’s quite all right, Noah.” Marcus smiled a smooth, sweet smile. “I’m sorry you believe the rumors. I expected more from my friends.”

  “So did we,” Wally said coldly.

  Galen returned to his table. This couldn’t happen, Marcus told himself as he cut the dripping, red burger in half. He couldn’t be thrown out of the group. Not by Wally Anderson. Worthless waste of human flesh. He couldn’t be subjected to such embarrassment. This could not be allowed to happen. He had to do something.

  Chapter Forty

  Angela Murphy twirled on the bar stool. She definitely had too much to drink. Some fresh air might be nice. She was feeling light-headed and a little nauseous. Too much to drink, too fast. Marcus, the bastard. How the hell did she let him get her in this kind of trouble? Police, missing jewelry, dead women. And his wife. The woman didn’t say much when she came by the store. She didn’t have to. Angela took a final drink. What was she thinking?

  The air was crisp and cool. She walked, staring at her feet, and her new Christian Louboutin shoes. $695 retail and Marcus had given them to her. That’s what she was thinking. And she was wrong to be angry with him. Marcus was good to her. He took care of her. Protected her. And he would continue making sure nothing bad happened.

  “You shouldn’t be out alone.”

  Angela looked up. She must’ve walked a half dozen blocks. Nothing looked familiar. She was ready to run, but didn’t. Instead, she smiled.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?”

  Chapter Forty-One

  A ComEd worker found the young woman. He pulled into the lot and grabbed his tools so he could hook up the power for the new tenants. Dublowski pulled in just as Rayney and Maggie arrived.

  The body was out in the open. There was little blood. No signs of activity in the area around the body.

  “He dumped her,” Dublowski said. “Shit. A fucking dump.”

  “Get Harley.” Maggie’s eyes panned the scene. “Your perimeter. Move fast and keep it clean. And get the canvass started.

  Dublowski was in motion.

  “Get that perimeter set up. I want this block sealed off. G
ot it. Get the command station over here. I want everyone to sign in and out. No exceptions.” The young detective was talking to an officer at the edge of the parking lot. “No one gets within 500 yards of this spot. Got it. No one. You get as many uniforms as you need to keep the scene clear. The rest you send out canvassing. Get them talking to people fast.”

  “Don’t forget…” Maggie began.

  The young detective was already on the phone. “I need Harley.”

  “Jesus.” Rayney’s lips barely moved as he spoke. He had to turn away from the body or he would be sick. “That’s Angela Murphy.”

  “You’re sure?” Maggie asked softly.

  Rayney nodded.

  “Wait. Do you smell that?” She moved close to the body. Creed. Faint, but there. “Do you smell it?”

  “Smell what?” Dublowski asked, walking up.

  “Cologne. Do you smell it? By the body.”

  Dublowski moved close, but Rayney held his ground.

  “No, nothing,” Dublowski said.

  Rayney shook his head, turning away again.

  She inhaled deeply.

  Blood and the smell of Creed.

  Galen had been there, but the scent was fading and the sun was dropping fast.

  “We can’t stay long,” Rayney whispered.

  “I know.” Maggie fought the urge to reach for her flashlight. This was their freshest scene. It would also be the toughest to work.

  “You have no evidence,” Galen’s words rang in her ears. He was showing her, showing what he could do and how well he could do it.

  “Why don’t you go to the car?” Maggie’s voice was gentle.

  “I’ll stay,” Rayney swallowed.

  Maggie snapped her gum as she turned to the scene, hands behind her back. She stared at what Rayney could barely bring himself to glance at. Clothes stripped away. She touched the skin with the back of her hand. The slightest amount of warmth. Bruises rose from her neck, blue and angry. As she focused on the woman’s sternum, the small hairs on the back of her neck jumped to attention. Cut from just below her sternum to the tip of her last rib. Maggie recognized what she was looking at. She saw it every night in her dreams.