by Diane Weiner
“Then they wouldn’t have joined the registry.”
The nurse called Susan back.
“Good luck,” she said to her new acquaintance. She scribbled down her e-mail address. “Take this and maybe we can stay in contact. Maybe we’ll even find out that you and I are sisters. Wouldn’t that be funny?”
Susan just wasn’t in the mood for funny. She sat down on one of those chairs they use to draw blood, thankful she was just having a painless cheek swab. Still, her knees were shaking. Mike put his hand on her shoulder. The whole procedure took less than five minutes.
“We’ll have the results soon and will enter your information into our database. If we get a match, we’ll contact you.”
“How long will you keep me registered?”
“We’ll keep all our participants in our database indefinably. It may take years, but if a match comes forward we’ll let you know.”
“Come on,” said Mike. “Let’s go to the hotel and relax for a bit. Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m relieved that it’s done. The dye is cast, as they say.”
“I know you. You would have kicked yourself forever if you hadn’t taken this opportunity.”
“You know me better than I know myself sometimes.” She squeezed his hand.
“We’ll try that restaurant Carmine’s that Scott recommended. Italian food always cheers you up,” said Mike.
At the restaurant later that evening, Susan and Mike were seated near the window, where they could watch the hustle and bustle of the city while they ate. The table was covered in white linen, and a candle encased in frosted glass created a relaxing ambiance. Susan looked into Mike’s eyes and was overcome with gratitude that he was her life partner. He was a flying buttress, forever supporting her.
“This eggplant parmigiana is out of this world,” said Susan.
“So is my lasagna. I’m stuffed.” He patted his stomach.
“Me too, but I saw the waitress go by with the dessert tray. It would be a shame to miss out on the tiramisu.”
As they ate their desserts and sipped expresso, the man at the next table got up and staggered toward the restroom. His companion jumped up and grabbed his arm but couldn’t prevent him from falling onto the floor.
“I’ll call 911,” said Susan. She reached for her cell phone while Mike jumped up to help. His experience as a volunteer fireman had proven valuable on more than one occasion. He bent over the body. Susan knew he was listening for a breath. The waitress and manager came over immediately.
“Is he choking?” asked the waitress.
“No, no. He’ll be okay. Give him a few minutes. This has happened before. I’m his wife. He just started a new medication for his high blood pressure and sometimes he gets dizzy if he stands up too quickly.” She helped her husband up into his chair. “He’ll be fine. Thanks for your quick action though.”
Another waitress came over and handed the man a damp towel for his forehead.
“She handled that like a pro,” said Susan. She couldn’t help thinking that she wouldn’t have handled it so gracefully had it been Mike keeling over on the floor. Even if this wasn’t the first time it happened. The thought of it made her shudder.
Chapter 31
A few days later, Susan was reminiscing about that double-sized tub at the hotel as she fought with the broken handle of her own tub. It had been on the verge of breaking for a while, but Susan hadn’t gotten around to getting it repaired. Now she had no choice––at least not if she wanted to shower or take a bath. She figured she could fix it if she had a new part, so she headed over to the plumbing business owned by Rusty’s family.
When she pulled into the parking lot, Susan saw Lindsay, Caleb’s crazy ex-girlfriend. For a moment Susan wondered if she was simply here because she too had a plumbing issue. No, that would be too much of a coincidence. Something’s fishy here. Heeding her intuition, she decided to watch. Lindsay went into the shop, then came out minutes later with Rusty’s arm around her. Rusty pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Lindsay. I didn’t realize they knew each other, thought Susan. They finished their smoke, then froze right there in front of Lindsay’s car and started kissing. This has to mean something. It can’t be a coincidence that Sophie’s high school boyfriend and her brother-in-law’s crazy ex-girlfriend are involved with each other.
After Lindsay left, Susan entered the overheated shop. The dry heat gave her a headache.
“May I help you,” said Rusty.
“I hope so.” She explained her plumbing issue and Rusty quickly found the correct replacement part.
“I should have taken care of this earlier,” said Susan.
“This will be an easy fix. Remember, lefty loosey, righty tighty and it’ll be a snap to fix. You just saved yourself the cost of a service call.”
“That’s good news. Lots of good news lately. For example, isn’t it wonderful that the kidnapped bookkeeper, Sophie Bartolo, has returned safe and sound?” Susan knew that was an awkward segue, but hoped Rusty didn’t notice.
“Yeah, you bet. That creep Caleb Bartolo sure got what was coming to him though.”
“No one deserves to be murdered in his own home,” said Susan. “I’ll bet it was someone he dated––an ex-girlfriend maybe. Most murders are committed by someone the victim knows.” Susan stared into Rusty’s eyes, but didn’t detect a reaction to her statement.
“If he’d gotten a place in town rather than on that desolate farm, maybe things would have turned out differently for him.” So, he and Lindsay both knew where Caleb was living.
Rusty’s father came in from the back carrying a laptop. He slammed it down on the counter. The sound made Susan jump.
“Rusty, something’s wrong with this thing. Can you fix it for me? This is no good for my blood pressure. I don’t care how many pills I take, this computer is gonna do me in.”
“Sure, Dad. Give me a few minutes.”
“So you’re good with computers?” said Susan. “My son too. Your generation is so much more comfortable with technology than us old timers.”
“You can say that again,” said Rusty’s father. “If it weren’t for Rusty, I’d have thrown that thing against the wall and broken it by now. He can do just about anything with computers.”
Rusty just shook his head. “Good luck with that tub of yours. Like I said, easy fix. Call the shop if you have any problems.”
She got into her car, and saw Lynette and Jackson pull up. What are they doing here? Surely the police didn’t need them to hunt down a piece for the station toilet. Luckily, she was parked in the side lot and they hadn’t noticed her. Getting out of the car, she decided to perch herself under a partially opened window and see what they were up to.
“May I help you?” said Rusty.
“Hope so,” said Jackson. He flashed his badge, and Lynette did the same. “We got an anonymous tip that your plumbing van was parked on Orchard Road, outside Caleb Bartolo’s place the night he was murdered.”
“No, sir. I wasn’t nowhere near Orchard Road that night.”
“Can you tell us where you were?”
“Bowling at Westbrook Lanes with some buddies.” Sure, I bet you were, thought Susan. More likely hanging out with Caleb’s crazy ex-girlfriend. Maybe they both killed him.
“What time did you arrive at the bowling alley and when did you leave?” asked Lynette.
“Got there around 8:00, left around midnight.”
“Can anyone verify your alibi?” asked Jackson.
“Sure.” He scribbled something on a notepad and shoved it in Jackson’s face. Jackson took a step back. “These are the guys I was with. You can check it out.”
“We will,” said Lynette.
Yes, we will, thought Susan. She wanted to be sure that Jackson and Lynette had a head start, so she stayed crouched under the window for a few more minutes. She wondered if she’d be able to unkink her legs when she tried to stand up. Had she inherited her weak knees from her birth mother? Ru
sty’s voice floated through the window.
“Hey, I need a huge favor,” said Rusty. “If two cops come by and ask you if I was bowling with you the night that Caleb guy was murdered, just say yes. Tell your brother to say the same. Thanks man. I owe you one.”
Chapter 32
“Too bad your honeymoon was so short,” said Lynette. “Looks like you haven’t been getting a whole lot of sleep. Hey, turn left here.”
“And it’s been worth every minute.” Jackson grinned. “Theresa can’t take a lot of time off from school right now. We’re planning a nice long cruise as soon as summer vacation starts.”
“Nice. Lucky you. Here we are. It looks like the farmer is home. Let’s hope Caleb’s landlord saw something that night. He didn’t mention seeing anyone when we interviewed him, but you never know.”
“Maybe we can jog his memory,” said Jackson.
The farmer came to the door dressed in faded jeans and a flannel shirt. He was caressing a mug of coffee with his bony hands.
“Good afternoon. We’re sorry to bother you again, but we need to ask you a few more questions,” said Lynette.
“Anything I can do to help Westbrook’s finest.”
“We received an anonymous tip that someone spotted a plumbing van parked outside Caleb Bartolo’s the night he was murdered.”
“I don’t remember seeing a van, but I was in here watching TV all night.”
“You didn’t hear anything unusual?” said Jackson.
“No. But come to think of it, I saw a plumbing van parked outside a few days before the murder. Funny thing. I figured if Caleb was having a plumbing problem, he woulda called me first.”
“Can you remember anything else that you might have forgotten about?” asked Lynette.
“I don’t know if this is important, but Caleb had mentioned a few days before he died that he thought someone had tried to break in. I went over and looked at the place with him. There were no broken windows or anything, so I told him everything looked fine to me. Seemed to satisfy him.”
“Anything else?” asked Jackson.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Give us a call if you think of something,” said Lynette. She handed him a card.
Jackson and Lynette got back into the cruiser.
“It’s awfully suspicious how a plumbing van happened to be parked at Caleb’s just days before Caleb was killed,” said Lynette. “I’m anxious to check out Rusty’s alibi for the night of the murder.”
“The farmer didn’t see the van the night of the murder, though.”
“He was inside watching TV. Probably fell asleep in his recliner.”
“Or something else was going on between them that had nothing to do with the murder. I still think the ex-girlfriend is guilty,” said Jackson.
“Seems a bit too flighty to have carried off a murder, but she was pretty pissed off. You know what they say. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I’m not ruling her out.”
Chapter 33
Susan had a monster of a headache from the overheated plumbing shop, so on her way home, she pulled into the Rite Aid where Caleb had worked. She always kept Aspirin in her purse, but when she opened the bottle, she discovered it was empty. She saw her old pharmacist/neighbor behind the back counter and decided to pay for it there rather than at the front of the store.
“Susan, how’s it going? What can I do for you?”
“I just want to pay for these.” Susan rubbed her temples and passed the box over the counter. As she stood there, her eyes wandered over to Caleb’s work area. It seemed like his area had been left untouched. A cork board hung over his desk and displayed a photo of some men in uniform, an outdated calendar, and a Christmas card. She stared at the cork board. Something was off. One side was flush with the wall as expected, but the other was pushed slightly forward. She brought it to the pharmacist’s attention.
“I’d never noticed that before. I left everything as is.” Josie ran her hands over the edge of the board.
Susan reached over and unlocked the counter opening. Once she could reach his desk, she stuck her fingers between the board and the wall, chipping her nail polish in the process. She tugged at the cork board until one of the nails popped out. Huh? A manila envelope was tucked in the hiding place.
“What’s that?” asked the pharmacist. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before.”
“Strange place for an envelope. Unless, of course, you’re trying to hide it.” Susan opened the envelope and read over the contents. “This looks like a report from some private investigator. Look at the letterhead.”
“Why was he hiding that?” said the pharmacist.
Susan flipped the pages and read through it. “This looks like it’s about Adam Bartolo’s fall at Lake Minnewaska. See the diagram? It shows the trajectory of Adam’s fall.”
Josie read over her shoulder. “It says based on the position of the body and the distance from the edge, Adam couldn’t have been pushed. The conclusion says it was an accident.”
“It sure does,” said Susan. She pulled a sheet of legal paper out of the envelope. “This is odd.” She turned the paper over.
“What? What does it say?”
“It’s pretty cryptic. It says no push/off, and there’s a handwritten diagram showing the waterfall with arrows and a body at the foot of the cliff.”
“I’ll call the police,” said the pharmacist.
“No, better yet, I’ll drop it by the police station and make sure it gets into Lynette’s hands. Let’s look more closely at his desk.” Susan picked up a small notepad which was next to the phone. “This looks like maybe Caleb wrote something and then tore it off. Hand me a pencil.” Susan sketched over the paper with the side of the pencil. “Look at this,” she said. Her heart was pumping faster.
“It’s a name. Dr. Witherspoon.”
“Do you know who that is?” asked Susan.
“No. It’s not anyone I’ve ever heard of. Not a doctor that signs any prescriptions I’ve seen around here.”
“It looks like there’s a phone number too but I can’t make it out,” said Susan. “I’ll Google him.”
“Better yet, I have a directory of all the licensed doctors in the state. Here. Let me look.” The pharmacist flipped through the pages and found four different Dr. Witherspoons listed.
“Too bad we don’t have a first name.” said Susan. “We’ll just have to go down the list and try to find out which one Caleb was calling.”
“The first one’s a pediatrician. The next is a general practitioner. Can’t see why he’d want to talk to either of them.”
“Hmm, this one is a forensic pathologist.” Susan pushed her bifocals up. “That could be it. Maybe Caleb had a question about Adam’s murder, even after reading the report.”
“I’m sure your daughter will be able to find him.”
“Yes, she’s a great detective. I’ll give her this information also.”
Chapter 34
Susan intended to bring this new information right to Lynette, but in the words of the great poet Robert Burns, ‘plans oft times go astray.’ The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Was she being followed? It’s just your imagination. Her arms shook on the steering wheel as she noticed a tan Toyota two cars behind her. It turned left when she did, and kept a safe distance behind. She could feel her pulse pounding like a jackhammer on the side of her neck. This isn’t good. Rusty drove the plumbing van, so she doubted it was him. What kind of car does Lindsay drive? Then she made a sharp right and the car did the same. In her rear view mirror, she couldn’t clearly see the driver, but he or she was wearing a hat and scarf. Susan raced through a yellow light. The Toyota passed the car in front of it and ran the red. Bet he isn’t expecting to go where I’m heading. Flooring the gas pedal, Susan pulled up in front of the police station. When her hands stopped shaking, she let go of the steering wheel. The Toyota had zoomed off. She wished she could remember the plate number. She took a slow, dee
p breath. Her knees were still quivering. When she finally felt her body was back in equilibrium, she got out of the car.
Inside the station, she discovered that Jackson and Lynette were both out on a call. Now what? She really needed to talk to her. Susan decided to help Lynette out and drive over to Dr. Witherspoon’s office. He was located in the basement of the hospital––next to the morgue. Knowing all about privacy laws, she devised a plan on the way.
“Hello, Dr. Witherspoon. My name is Susan Wiles. I’m taking a college course in forensics and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions for an assignment I’m doing.”
“A college course?”
“It’s one of those courses they offer for retirement learning. Great idea, don’t you think? We seniors get to register for all kinds of interesting classes. Never stop learning is my motto. Guess that comes from being a teacher all those years.”
“I’m really busy, but I was about to take a lunch break.” He looked at his watch. “I guess I can spare a few minutes.”
Susan pulled a notepad out of her purse and pushed her bifocals into place. “What sorts of things do you do as a forensic pathologist?”
“I’m a consultant for several neighboring police departments. Sometimes I’m hired by private investigators. Mostly I’m asked to determine cause of death.”
“You mean you help solve murders?”
“There aren’t a whole lot of actual murders in this area. Sometimes a person dies from no obvious cause––like a heart defect or a metabolic disease. I try to figure out why. Helps the families with closure.”
“I just read about a murder in the paper the other day. Man’s name was Caleb Bartolo. Did you work on him?”
“That’s not something I’m free to discuss,”
“Do you ever find cases of poisoning? Blunt force trauma? Accidental falls?”
“Most of the time, they don’t need me for that. Poisons show up pretty readily upon autopsy, and blows that are hard enough to cause death can usually be seen with the naked eye.” The doctor glanced at his watch. “I need to be going. Hope I’ve helped some.”
