Ray Elkins mystery - 04 - Shelf Ice

by Aaron Stander

  “How are you feeling?” Saul asked.

  “I’m really tired, but feeling much better. And other than a sigmoidoscopic exam, I think I’ve had every test this place offers.”

  “We’ll scope you after you’ve had dinner,” laughed Saul. “We saved the best for last. Hey, times are tough. When someone comes in with a valid Blue Cross card, we’ve got to make the most of it.”

  “What have you found?” asked Ray.

  “I haven’t had an opportunity to talk to Dr. Jeffers since they finished with you. I’ve just looked through the early test results and things look pretty good. Although, there were several comments that you present a pretty battered body, lots of contusions, bruises. I only got bits and pieces of what happened before you were admitted. Would you like to elaborate?”

  Ray explained the encounter with the snowplow and told about being rammed and flipped.

  “During that time, did you hit any part of the interior?”

  “I don’t think so, at least not initially. Between the seatbelt and the airbags, I was held fairly securely.”

  “They do the job,” observed Saul, “but you can bang into them hard enough to sustain injuries. So you were hanging upside down before you got out of the car?”

  “Yes,” said Ray.

  “Let me look at your chest,” said Saul, pulling off the sheet and, with Ray’s help, getting the gown out of the way. As he palpated Ray’s chest wall he commented, “Radiology didn’t see any broken ribs. But you do have a lot of bruising here. How does this feel?”

  “Things are sore, especially on the left side,” he answered, showing obvious discomfort as pressure was put on different parts of his rib cage. “How about the fainting?”

  “I don’t know what to tell you yet. It might be a medical problem that we have yet to diagnose. Or it could be something else, something quite simple. You have been under stress for many hours, I doubt if you had anything to eat or drink. Right?”

  “True,” said Ray.

  “So you were dehydrated, had low blood sugar, and you had been on an adrenaline high. Add to that you probably had very little sleep and you’re still recovering from a major trauma. Our bodies can only take so much.”

  “So, if I’m okay, why do I have to stay the night?”

  “I didn’t say you were okay, and I want to keep you under observation. We’ll talk about getting you out tomorrow if there are no suspicious findings. I’ll stop by and see you later this evening. Get some rest. That’s an order.”

  Ray’s dinner had arrived and he was picking at some overcooked green beans when Sue Lawrence arrived. He had been carefully avoiding the gelatinous yellow gravy that covered the chicken breast and mashed potatoes.

  “What’s the big smile for?” he asked.

  “It’s the look on your face.”

  “What kind of look?”

  “Hard to describe. It’s sort of like ‘Could they serve this at Guantanamo without the International Red Cross coming in to investigate?’” Sue said playfully. “Wouldn’t you rather have some wild caught salmon with a champagne glaze, wild rice with morel mushrooms, and some gently steamed baby vegetables?”

  “You’re only making it worse,” said Ray.

  Sue pulled the tray off the table and carried it out of the room. In its place she set a Styrofoam box. She removed the cover to reveal the salmon, rice, and vegetables. She opened a second, smaller container next to the first. “And here’s the salad, extra virgin olive oil and a very good balsamic vinegar on the side.”

  “This is just wonderful. Where did it come from?” Ray asked, disbelief in his voice.

  “You think I don’t have friends in the food industry?”

  Before Ray started on the rice, he said to Sue, “Bring me up to date.”

  “I suspect you know about Ben’s condition?”

  Ray nodded affirmatively.

  “I stopped to see him for a few minutes on my way in. He’s awake and alert and looking forward to going home. His wife is with him.”

  “And the victim?” asked Ray.

  “Once she was stabilized, she was sent to Grand Rapids by helicopter. The last time I checked she was in surgery. Her condition was listed as grave,” Sue reported.

  “How about the crime scene?” Ray asked. “What did you find?”

  “I’ve got lots of pictures and a good idea of what happened. Other than that, I don’t have a lot of evidence, some fingerprints and castings of footprints from the exterior that might be those of the assailant. And no sign of the weapon.”

  “How about the snowplow?”

  “That’s something you’ll be interested in. When I got back to the office after working the scene, an esteemed member of the county commission was waiting for me.”

  “Which one?”

  “Richard Kinver.”

  “What’s his problem now?”

  “Seems someone stole a big truck from the yard of his excavation business during the night. I asked him to describe the truck. He said he bought it used a couple of years ago from the state highway commission, spent a fortune fixing it up. He needed something of that size occasionally to keep some of his winter customers plowed out.”

  “Any chance that he?…”

  “You’ve got it. One of the reasons he bought the truck was to plow out Brenda Manton. Then he made some joke about her living off the grid back in the woods and how much diesel he had to burn so she could live her green life.”

  “Did you tell him what happened?” asked Ray.

  “No, I didn’t want to get into it. The guy is a troglodyte. How does he get elected year after year?”

  “So the truck is still missing?” Ray pressed.

  “No, it’s been found deep in the woods at the end of a seasonal road down in Benzie County. Someone poured gas in the cab and set it ablaze. I checked it out late this afternoon. It’s just a burned-out hulk.”

  “Damn,” said Ray. “It looks like we’ve got someone who’s focused on not leaving any evidence.”

  “How’s the salmon?” Sue asked.

  “Terrific. Thank you.”

  “I should’ve left you to enjoy your meal and then come back to talk business.”

  “No,” said Ray. “We do this all the time. It’s the norm.”

  “And there’s one more thing,” said Sue. “You had a date tonight.”

  “Damn, I completely forgot. How did you know?” he probed.

  “I guess Sarah left a couple of messages on your voicemail today. When you didn’t return her calls, she called your office and asked for your secretary. We women know how to get information. I got the impression from Jan that Sarah will probably be visiting you this evening.”

  Ray turned his attention to the salad, carefully pouring on the olive oil, then adding part of the small container of vinegar. He looked over at Sue. “How about the dog? Did you turn it over to animal control?”

  “No,” said Sue. “She’s really sweet and very upset. I’ve been feeding her and walking her. She’s in the car. I’d like to look after her until this all gets settled. She has been completely traumatized.”

  Ray thought about it for a moment. “It’s okay with me. We’ll just deputize her. Does she have a name?”

  “Simone,” said Sue. “Molly says the dog is named after Simone de Beauvoir.”

  “A literary dog,” Ray observed. “Thank you for this,” he said, gesturing toward the now empty food containers, “I didn’t know I was so hungry.” He paused, then asked, “Will you pick me up tomorrow morning?”

  “Sure, give me a call when you know you’re getting out.” Sue came back to the side of the bed and patted the back of his hand affectionately. Then she was gone.

  6.

  Ray was still sleeping soundly when Sarah James arrived. He woke with a start and pulled her into focus as she stood at the side of his bed. Ray had met Sarah in the early fall when he was investigating the murder of a faculty member at Leiston School, a small private prep sc
hool. Over the ensuing months they had started to become a couple.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “Okay, I just need a little rest. Sorry about tonight, sorry I didn’t….”

  “Like you had the opportunity to,” she said, smiling and reaching out to touch his arm, moving against the side of the bed. She bent forward and kissed him gently.

  “You’re a hard man to love, Ray Elkins. I’ve only known you a few months and twice now I have stood at your bedside and looked at your battered body.”

  “How was your trip to Chicago?” Ray asked, changing the subject.

  “Why are you shifting the subject to me. I was talking about”…

  “Sarah, this is anomalous. I’ve never had anything happen like this before.”

  “How many times do….”

  “It was a random event.”

  “And when Denton Freeler shot you, that was random. The bullet just fell out of the sky and struck you while you were out kayaking in Lake Michigan?”

  Ray remained quiet, letting her question hang, knowing the tone of her voice and her body language reflected her anxiety. “It’s been an unusual time,” he finally commented.

  “It’s hard for me to see you hurting,” said Sarah, brushing away a tear. A long silence followed. She moved closer to the bed and took his hand.

  “Chicago,” she finally said, “that’s something I need to talk to you about. I had hoped we’d be doing that this evening, over a good dinner and a glass of wine or two. I guess that it can wait.”

  “Now I’m curious, tell me.”

  “I don’t think this is a good time.”

  “Please.”

  “Well, as you know, I flew down for the meeting of the school’s board of governors’ midyear meeting. My assumption was that things would go on as usual for the second semester as the board searched for a new headmaster. But things have suddenly changed.”

  “How so?”

  “There was concern about not having a strong educational leader, someone with a name and track record, in place as soon as possible. The board is worried about recruitment and retaining students for the next school year. In this economy, all the private schools are battling to hold their enrollments,” Sarah paused.

  “And?…” Ray prodded.

  “Well,” she started slowly, “one of the board members, Bob Houghton, had heard about a retired headmaster from a prestigious east coast prep school who had decided to come back into the job market. He had retired a few years ago at fifty-five, only to have his 401(k)s tank. The man has an outstanding record as an education leader and fundraiser. He’s been offered a three-year contract, and he’s starting now.”

  “That’s probably a good thing, isn’t it? It will take some pressure off you.”

  Sarah squeezed his hand tighter. “Well, he’s bringing a couple of people with him, his own management team. That’s part of the deal. The board looks on this as a way to strengthen the school and make it more competitive.”

  “So what does that mean in terms of your position? You’ve got a contract, don’t you?”

  “I’m an at will employee.”

  “So you’re losing your job?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “So am I. This is the hard part. My job at Leiston is going away. I’m being replaced by a member of the new management team. But I’ve been offered a new position by the board’s chair. She is a senior partner in a Chicago law firm, and they’re in need of an office manager. And it’s one of those offers that’s, well, hard not to consider. It’s more than three times my salary at Leiston, excellent medical and retirement benefits, and they’ve offered to rent me an apartment close to the office. And as you know, my Eric is starting law school in the fall. This will give me a way to help support him so he doesn’t have a huge debt when he graduates. And they’ve sweetened the pot by saying that they’ll give Eric a summer job while he’s in law school.”

  Ray lay there and absorbed the information. Before he could say anything a young woman came into the room, introduced herself as the night nurse, and wrote her first name, Kate, on the white board on the wall facing his bed.

  Sarah went to the foot of the bed as the nurse checked his temperature and blood pressure and reminded him to hit the call button if he needed anything. Then she left them alone again.

  “What does this mean in terms of us?” Ray asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Sarah, coming to the side of the bed and taking his hand again. “This is all happening so quickly. I didn’t want to tell you this way. I was hoping for a quiet evening where I could…well, it will be hard. I’m struggling with this decision.” She was silent for several minutes. “I’m sorry I had to break this to you under these conditions. It’s just that I have to fly back to Chicago tomorrow, so I needed to explain to you what was going on and why I won’t be around for a few days.”

  “So you’ve settled on this. You’re moving?” Ray asked.

  “I can see no other way. You know what the job market is like. What’s the possibility that I could find something up here with a decent salary and benefits?”

  Ray considered the question, but didn’t respond. He knew she was right.

  “I should go and let you rest,” said Sarah. She bent forward, kissed him gently on the lips, squeezed his hand a final time and pulled away. She moved toward the door, looked back briefly, and rushed out just as Dr. Hannah Jeffers was coming in. They almost collided.

  Dr. Jeffers stood at the foot of the bed and motioned toward the door. “Affaires de coeur?”

  Ray nodded.

  “I’ve been going over all the tests,” she said in a very business-like tone. “I can’t find anything that might have caused the chest pain. There are no blockages or narrowing.” She paused briefly. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t a cardiac-related problem, but there’s nothing we can put our finger on. All of the tests and scans were unremarkable. Saul Feldman suggested other possibilities that might explain your symptoms. He says there’s significant tenderness in the chest area, perhaps a cracked rib or soft tissue injury.”

  “Yes,” said Ray.

  “Let me check your chest,” she said. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

  She helped him pull his gown off and started palpating his chest, moving from his shoulders to the bottom of his rib cage, one hand on each side during the first pass, then carefully running her hands over the left side of his chest, then moving to the right side. She took her time, pushing and prodding, then turned her attention to his abdomen before returning to the left side of his chest.

  “You’re very tender here,” she said.

  “How can you tell?”

  “I can see it in your face and feel it in the way you stiffen to my touch. And as others have observed, there’s bruising, probably some soft-tissue injury, and perhaps some cracked ribs. That said, there are no obvious breaks. I know you’re uncomfortable, but everything is exactly where it should be and feeling fairly secure.”

  “So what’s the treatment? Do you tape me or what?”

  “We don’t tape for cracked ribs anymore. There’s a possibility of restricting your breathing and causing pneumonia. I’ll check with Dr. Feldman, see what painkiller he would like to start you on.”

  “Non-narcotic please, I can’t tolerate…”

  “I’ve seen that on your history. No problem. An NSAID should provide you with enough relief.”

  “Can I have my pills and go home?” Ray asked.

  “Not a chance,” she replied firmly. “The fact that we haven’t found a specific cause for your symptoms doesn’t mean there isn’t a problem. Medicine is an inexact science, you know. We don’t have all the answers. I want you here tonight so if something happens, we can get you the needed care immediately.”

  She helped Ray get back into his gown. “Try to get some sleep, I know that’s hard to do in a hospital. I’ll check on you in the morning.”

  Dr.
Jeffers started out, stopped, and returned to the side of the bed. “Saul Feldman says you’re a kayaker, that you spend lots of time on Lake Michigan.”

  “Yes,” said Ray.

  “I need someone to kayak with. I can’t find anyone who wants to go out in winter.”

  “Got a drysuit and a boat?” asked Ray.

  “Yes, a custom-made drysuit. I’m too small for the normal women’s size. And I have a fiberglass boat with a skeg. Kayaking was a major passion before I went to Iraq. I want to get back into it.”

  “I haven’t been out much lately,” said Ray. “I miss it.”

  “I’ll be by in the morning to see how you’re doing,” she said, heading toward the door.

  7.

  Ray stood in front of a tall oval mirror in his bathroom shaving. He was only a few hours out of the hospital, released mid-morning after a conference with his internist, Saul Feldman. Sue Lawrence had picked him up from the hospital and dropped him at his home so he could bathe and change into fresh clothing. Ray brushed on some warm lather and carefully scraped it off with a razor, one cheek, then the other, under his nose, his chin, and finally long careful strokes from his neck to his chin.

  As he wiped away the remaining soap he looked at his upper body. He noted the large bruise on his right shoulder, probably from the seatbelt. There was also a discoloration on his upper arm; he wondered again what he had hit. Maybe he had slammed into the door, perhaps it was just the force of his body against the seatbelt.

  Ray rotated to the left and looked at the other side of his upper torso. He could see a large contusion that started at the sternum and extended to the side of his rib cage. Everything was sore: his back, his arms, and his neck. Instead of going into the office, Ray thought about how nice it would be to take a long, hot bath and then climb into bed with the stack of recent New Yorkers he hadn’t opened yet and spend the day reading.

  As he dressed, he reflected on his encounter with Sarah the evening before. He wanted to write about this, to go to his journal and get his feelings on paper. Although he’d only known her a few months, they had quickly developed a comfortable intimacy and rapport. Sarah had become a close friend during a time of pain and recovery. And now she will be gone, he thought, feeling suddenly sad and alone. But before he could ponder that much longer, he heard Sue Lawrence announcing her presence with a shout from the entrance. He walked into the kitchen to greet her in slippers, carrying his socks.