Too Dark To Sleep

by Dianne Gallagher

  Dublowski dropped her two blocks from Marcus Galen’s home and kept the car out of sight. This time Maggie pounded on the door. Galen had to be there. She needed to see him. Needed to look in his eyes again.

  No answer. She pounded again.

  Nothing.

  She was about to hit the carved door with her fist one more time, when it opened. Instead of Galen or his wife, Morris Pavlak stood smiling. Not a friendly smile. A fox-eating-shit-through-a-wire-brush kind of smile.

  “Maggie. How lovely to see you. I ran into Richard the other day.”

  “Where is he, Morris?”

  “I would suggest you leave.”

  “And I would suggest you get your head out of your ass. Your client is guilty and you know it.”

  “You should be careful, slandering his name,” he said. “That could get you in big trouble. Very big. You could go to jail.”

  “You should know better than to threaten a cop.”

  “An ex-cop,” he smiled.

  “An ex-cop,” Maggie nodded, “who used to be married to a lawyer. Don’t forget, Morris, I know all the tricks.”

  “You better leave, Maggie,” he smiled. “You have no case. I’m sure Detective Dublowski told you about the missing inventory sheets we found. The owners of the jewelry store apologized for the oversight. Apparently, a sales girl filed them in the wrong place.”

  “Yeah, Angela Murphy,” Maggie countered. “The woman lying on a slab right now. The woman who’s been screwing your client for the last three years.”

  Morris Pavlak blinked more than he should.

  “Or didn’t you know that?”

  Pavlak swallowed quietly. “You have no proof.”

  “Talk to his wife and you’ll have proof,” Maggie said. “Talk to her now that her husband’s girlfriend is dead. Your client is a liar and you know it.”

  “More slander.”

  “Let’s see, the sudden, almost magical appearance of evidence, conveniently fabricated alibis. And you’ve got at least one judge in your pocket. Winnick,” Maggie said. “You’re in over your head, Morris, and your client is using you.”

  “I think your imagination is running away.”

  “And I think you’ll be the one going to jail. Even if your client doesn’t. You know politics. It’s an election year, Morris. It won’t just be a slap on the wrist, not for fabricating evidence in a murder trial. And your client will find a way to pin it on you. You know him. He’ll get a new trial and you’ll have your license pulled.” Maggie shook her head. “Winnick? Shit, Morris, everyone knows the guy can’t keep his mouth shut. I thought you’d be smarter.”

  A small tick near the eye. Too small for most people to see. “This conversation is over.” The lawyer slammed the door.

  “His lawyer? Fuck me,” was all Dublowski said. He looked like he was ready to fall apart.

  “Relax. It’s not a problem. Pavlak knows he’s in deeper shit than we are. He’s accepted fabricated evidence without question. He hasn’t thoroughly researched the alibis his client is providing. And he’s a got a judge in his back pocket.”

  “We have Phillipotte.”

  “Phillipotte’s issuing search warrants for cops, not cutting deals with lawyers. There’s a difference. Besides, Phillipotte knows how to keep his mouth shut and George Winnick doesn’t.” Maggie snapped her gum. “That’s got Pavlak scared. That and the fact that he knows his client is guilty.”

  The two sat silently in the car. Dublowski was older than he was when they met, Maggie thought. Maybe it was the circles under his eyes, the sunken cheeks. Maybe it was because he stopped relying on that smile to carry him through. Maybe it was something else.

  “How’s your wife?”

  Nick shifted in his seat.

  “A fight?”

  “A big one,” he swallowed. “A really big one.”

  “It happens.”

  “She said her uncle got me the job, okay?” The words flew out of his mouth. “Got me my fucking detective job.”

  “So?” Maggie answered casually.

  “So? So, my wife’s uncle gives Walker suits so I can keep my job. I don’t deserve to be here. Big surprise.”

  “That is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve heard. Do you think you’re the only one who got some help making detective? Shit, Dublowski, everyone has help. You think Halverson got here by himself? He’s married to the mayor’s cousin. How about Art? Gillette? There isn’t one person in that office who didn’t have someone do something to help him get that gold shield. Shit, my dad works for the Outfit. What do you suppose everyone said when I made detective?”

  She didn’t deserve it. That’s what they all said. Behind her back and to her face. Until Maggie proved them wrong.

  “It doesn’t matter how you get the job,” she said honestly. “All that matters is how you do the job.”

  The young man’s shoulders sagged.

  “You’re a good detective, Nick.”

  He just looked at her. “What?”

  “You heard it the first time,” Maggie answered. “You’re good and you’re getting better. With every case. And that has nothing to do with your uncle or the superintendent or anyone. That’s you.”

  Dublowski smiled. A real smile and it beat the hell out of the old stock grin.

  “Your wife’s just angry and hurt. Do something nice,” Maggie added. “Take her to dinner. Get her some flowers.”

  “Is that how your marriage lasted?”

  “Wise ass,” Maggie chuckled. “Drop me here.”

  “What?”

  “Go to the autopsy. Act like you haven’t seen me. You picked me up, told me about Galen, I got pissed so you dropped me back at my house. Rayney’s out shopping so I’m the only one who can confirm it. Pavlak didn’t see you, just me.” Maggie snapped her gum as she thought. “I’ll give you an hour.”

  “Look, why don’t you just skip all that crap and come in with me.”

  “CYA,” Maggie smiled. “Didn’t they teach you that in detective school. I’m the nut, so use it.”

  Dublowski let her out near Washington Park, then headed to Angela Murphy’s autopsy. Maggie took her shoes off, let her toes grab the green beneath them and got down to work. Marcus Galen was guilty. She knew it. So how did he pull this one off? Angela Murphy was cut at another location. Where? He was in surgery all day? Sixteen fucking hours.

  Maggie stopped.

  Would Galen take that kind of risk? Pieces slid into place. Yes, he would. The risk was huge, but so was the payoff. Galen got nervous, so he took a risk, brought Angela Murphy to the hospital, cut her there, then dumped her later. It sounded crazy, but that’s exactly why he’d do it. No one would believe it. No one would believe her. Maggie needed to talk to people at the hospital. Dublowski and Harley could handle the autopsy on their own.

  Maggie thought about calling Rayney, but he would be in the middle of groceries. She had her credit cards, so she’d take a cab.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  “I was wondering if you had a few minutes.”

  Harley looked up from the computer. He wanted to get the Murphy report done fast, but he closed the file when he saw Marcus Galen standing in the doorway.

  “Marcus,” Harley said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here.”

  “I don’t know where else to go,” the doctor said quietly. “I was on my way to the hospital and I… well, I really need to talk to someone.”

  “Not me,” Harley said. “You’re a suspect, Marcus. You should not be talking to me.”

  “You’re friends with Maggie Quinn. You can do something. She is ruining me, Ed. My marriage, my work. Everything. There must be some way to call her off.”

  “Maggie stops when the case is
closed. Not before.” Harley turned back to the computer. “You got an alibi, right? If you aren’t guilty, you have nothing to worry about.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you can say?” Marcus shook his head. “This woman won’t stop. She’s bent on destroying me and she doesn’t have one piece of evidence. Not one. You could at least talk to her.”

  The ME shook his head.

  “I can’t believe you won’t help me. I’m your friend.”

  “I have work to do and you’re keeping me from doing it.”

  “You believe her, don’t you?” Marcus stared at Ed Harley. “I saw how you looked at her at the restaurant. Do the two of you have something going? Is that it? Do you talk about me when you’re together? Work out the details so you can frame me? Is that how you amuse yourselves?”

  When he saw the look on the ME’s face, Marcus knew he stepped over the line. Pulling his ego back, he forced himself to stare at the floor. Marcus already accomplished what he needed. Now he was simply letting his emotions take over. Unacceptable.

  “I’m sorry, Ed. That was uncalled for. It’s just… I’m under a lot of pressure because of your friend.” Marcus paused to pull up the proper expression. “I am not guilty. I had nothing to do with these murders. Nothing. You have to believe me.”

  “And why is that, Marcus?” said Harley. “I saw what happened to that girl. Clean cuts, first-rate stitching. A professional killed her. A cardiac man.”

  Marcus shook his head. “Is there any way I can convince you?”

  “If you are innocent, Marcus, you’re safe.”

  “My God, Harley. How could I be guilty? I was in surgery all day. There are witnesses. Students, doctors.”

  “Then you have nothing to worry about.” Harley paused. “But if you did it, Maggie will find out how and she’ll prove it. That I guarantee.”

  “Where have you been? You missed the autopsy.” Dublowski tried to appear casual.

  “I know how he did it,” Maggie answered, leaning against the detective’s car in the parking lot at Wentworth.

  “What?”

  “Galen. I know how he killed Angela Murphy.”

  “Jesus, Maggie. He was in surgery all day. Everyone saw him. He couldn’t have killed her.”

  Maggie felt the skin on the back of her neck rise. What time was it? She lost track at the hospital. Funny thing was, it didn’t really bother her. Until now. “Are you leaving?”

  “Yeah, I’m going home on time. I got nothing to follow on Murphy. Nothing.” He paused, embarrassed. “I talked to my wife. We’re going out to dinner. Got a room at the Hilton.”

  “Nice,” Maggie smiled. “Do you think you have time to drop me off?”

  “Yeah, but we gotta go now.”

  “He was out of surgery by eight the previous night,” Maggie said as they pulled out of Wentworth. “He took cash out of an ATM near the hospital. One of the orderlies saw him. We can prove that. Angela was seen at Transit. One of her friends at the jewelry store gave me a list of the clubs she likes to go to.”

  “Weston’s going to want more.”

  “There’s people at the hospital who will talk. Everyone thinks Galen’s an arrogant son of a bitch… even for a cardiac man.”

  “You went over to the hospital? The chief is gonna have your ass.”

  “No, he won’t because we’re going to nail Marcus Galen this time.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Listen, he nabs Murphy the night before. She knows him. She’s going to be cooperative. An easy mark. He could drug, restrain her. I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t have to do anything. Just come up with a good story. She trusts him that much.”

  “There’s no way…”

  “He got her into the hospital, Nick. I’m sure of it. Whether he walked in with her or dragged her through the door, Galen got Angela Murphy into that hospital and she was still alive. If he killed her the night before, the TOD would point to him.”

  “He’d never do it. It’s way too risky.”

  “That’s exactly why he’d do it. Who is our man, Detective? One bold son of a bitch. Think about it. It’s perfect. Pull off this one move and he’s off the hook for everything. A women he knows, killed by a cardiac surgeon. Shit, if he didn’t commit the one crime that points right at him, how the hell could he have killed the others? That’s the first thing that went through your mind after you heard the alibi. Airtight, right?”

  “Yeah and it is because what you’re saying is impossible. Maybe he got her in. I’ll give you that. But how the hell could he slice her open without anyone noticing? And then get her back out.”

  “Galen came in early. A janitor saw him. No one was expecting him in at seven. No surgeries were scheduled until nine-thirty. Galen never comes in early according to the OR nurses. He’s usually there with enough time to change, scrub, and get down to business. It’s his habit. That’s why he came in early. No one’s looking for him. He figures he can get in and out clean. He stashes Murphy. I don’t know where, but somewhere close. Maybe the morgue. Then he leaves, comes back when he’s expected. With just enough time to get into the OR.”

  Dublowski opened his mouth.

  “Listen, he had almost 45 minutes right in the middle of the day that’s unaccounted for. That fits right into Murphy’s TOD. No one saw him leave, but no one saw him for those 45 minutes. He never eats lunch at the hospital. Everyone knows that, so no one thinks twice about not seeing him. That’s what he’s banking on. So he goes to where he stashed Angela, cuts…”

  “With blood everywhere.”

  “Not if she’s strangled first and not if she’s in a body bag when he cuts. No heart beat. He can control the blood. He cuts, closes up the bag, and stows her. He gets her out after work.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, but he does. Then he dumps her.”

  “And Galen does all this in the hospital?”

  “Yes.”

  “In less than hour?”

  “The cutting. Yes. The man’s got some of the fastest hands in the business. That’s what his surgery team says.”

  “No fucking way, Maggie.”

  “Listen, it fits. It makes sense.”

  “Look, I’m not arguing. Even if Galen did do it, we have shit for evidence once again. Harley said the body’s clean. The site’s clean. We’re screwed.”

  “But we know what we’re looking for now. The blood work will show anything in her system. There might be signs of oxygen deprivation if she was sealed up for a lot of hours. We pull in anyone who saw Galen that day and plot out every fucking minute of those sixteen hours. We can do this. We can still get him.”

  The car pulled up to the greystone.

  “Wait,” Maggie muttered. A chill trickled down her spine.

  “What?”

  No lights on inside or outside the house and the sun was almost gone. She checked her phone. It was on. No messages and she was hours late.

  “No,” Maggie whispered as she ran toward the greystone.

  Dublowski was on her heels. The door was unlocked. Maggie reached an arm in and switched on the lights in one fluid motion. Then Maggie Quinn froze. Antoine Rayney was carefully laid out in the middle of the entryway. To greet her.

  “No, no, no.” Maggie fell to her knees. “No, no, no.” The word kept tumbling out as her chest was crushed by the weight of what she saw.

  Air.

  Maggie couldn’t pull enough air into her lungs. She tried to focus, tried to look somewhere else, but her eyes were pulled back to the body.

  To Rayney.

  Air.

  Fingers clawing the floor.

  Air.

  “Jesus,” Dublowski whispered. In a moment, he was on his cell phone. “Yeah, it’s Dublowsk
i. I need the chief. We’ve got a body at Quinn’s house. The guy she lived with. Yeah, the nurse. We need a team over right away.”

  Outside.

  Out the front door.

  The wave of dark slammed down on Maggie, crushing her, drowning her. What had been dusk before was now midnight. She stumbled down the steps, fighting to stay in the circle of yellow the security light formed. The dark reached out, grabbed a pinch of fabric, and pulled.

  Slipping.

  Falling.

  Down.

  Down and into black. The dark was on her. On every side. Pulling her further down. Into the pit. Squeezing her stomach until its contents were thrown to the ground. Squeezing her chest until there was no room for air. Squeezing her brain, driving the image further in, like a splinter, so she could never forget. Maggie tried to scream, but there was nothing. Nothing but the dark around her. On her. In her. Nothing but dark. The last thing she heard was a satisfied laugh welcoming her home as she kept falling.

  “You okay?”

  Air.

  “Are you okay?” Nick’s voice was muffled.

  Air.

  “Maggie! Talk to me!”

  Maggie barely heard his voice. Something against her face. She fought to open her eyes, but the dark held them tightly shut. She needed to breathe. She couldn’t feel her body, but she knew she was falling. Falling deep into the ground.

  “Come on, Maggie!”

  She gasped, tried to breathe. Tried to break the fall. She couldn’t go down there. Not again. Not now.

  “Jesus.”

  Air. Warm. Pushing in. Filling the emptiness. The dark clawed at it. She gasped again.

  “Fucking shit. Breathe!”

  The dark pushed the warmth back out and slammed the door.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  Nick looked around. Maggie fell, but she didn’t hit anything. No marks anywhere. No bleeding, no bruising. Nothing. It looked like a straight dive to the grass. Straight shot from the top to the ground three steps below. She shouldn’t be unconscious. There was nothing to hit her head on. She threw up, then stopped breathing. Was her airway blocked? He pried her jaw open and searched with a finger. It was clear. He quickly examined her neck and head for any signs of trauma. There were none. Nick lowered his mouth again and pushed air into her lungs. It went in easily. Her airway was open, so what the fuck was wrong?