He looked down at her, an uncertain smile playing along his lips. “You mean it?”
“Of course. As far as my problem goes, it’s just going to take a little longer than I thought to work through it.” She looked up at him. “I’ve been thinking about getting professional help. What do you think?”
“I think it’s great.” He put his arms around her and drew her close. “Blaze,” he continued, his face turning somber, “have you ever known love in your whole life?”
“I’m not even sure I know what it is,” she said sadly, laying her head on his chest. After a while, she looked up into his incredible blue-green eyes. “But I know that it has something to do with the way I feel about you.”
His gaze met hers. “We’re going to start from square one, and I’m going to teach you everything I know about how to love and be loved.”
She smiled. “I’m not very smart. It may take about fifty years.”
“Got a little dummy on my hands, have I?” He smiled. “It seems I’ve had some experience along those lines myself.” When he pulled her to him, she went into his arms willingly.
Funny how things turned out, she thought, remembering the day she found the calendar and was looking forward to teaching him.
Chapter 12
A young woman rolled a baby carriage along East Bay Street in front of Emmet Park when something sticking out from beneath a bush caught her eye. She stopped in front of the group of large hedges and stared, but couldn’t quite make it out. She finally decided it looked something like a foot. Thinking someone must have lost their shoe, she edged up a little closer and slowly pulled back a few branches and looked in. The branches were thick, hard to move, and the area was deeply shadowed, so what she saw didn’t register right away. Finally, the sun-dappled scene began to take shape, her mouth dropped open, and a look of terror etched her face. She abruptly released the branches, allowing them to slap back into place, and her piercing scream filled the air.
Heads jerked around, and panic-filled eyes stared at the screaming woman. Within seconds, a crowd had gathered around her.
“T-There’s somebody in there!” she cried, stepping back from the bushes and pointing.
Several men ran over to the large mass of shrubs, and then looked back at the woman. “In here?”
“Yes!”
They pulled the branches back and saw a man dressed in a dirty gray uniform. His skull had been crushed and his head was covered with dried blood.
“Somebody call the police,” a man yelled. “There’s a dead body in here.”
Slowly, the crowd became thicker, the people murmuring among themselves while stretching their necks to see the body that was lying in the bushes. The distant sound of a siren began screaming, gradually gaining intensity the closer it came. Finally, it rolled up to the curb and stopped with a screech.
With a banging of doors, the officers got out and yelled, “All right, everyone, you need to step back, so we can see what we’ve got here.”
“We’ve got a murder, that’s wut, gov’nor!” a British accent spoke up, coming from a scrawny, little man who joined the officer and ran alongside him as he approached the scene.
While making his way through the crowd, the first officer looked back at his partner and pointed at the old Brit who refused to leave his side. “Jim, get rid of these people, okay?”
While his partner went to look at the crime scene, the second officer grabbed the old man’s arm and pushed him into the crowd while herding them away from the scene. “All right, everybody, you need to break it up, now. Just go on about your business.” He looked around. “Where’s the lady that discovered the body?”
The woman stepped out of the crowd that was being herded away, her white, blood-drained face testifying to the fact she’d seen something horrible. “That would be me, sir,” she said with a slight tremble in her voice.
The officer pulled her aside while taking out a pad and pencil. “Your name?”
As if trying to catch her breath, her hand fluttered to her throat. “Mrs. Elvira Leary.”
“Now, Mrs. Leary, tell me exactly what happened.”
“Well,” she began, her voice still trembling. “I was just pushing my baby along the street when I noticed something in the bushes. It looked like someone’s foot, or a shoe, I couldn’t be sure. That’s why I went over to take a closer look.” She paused, trying to keep her composure.
“What did you do then?”
“Well, I pulled back the branches, and just, well, stared at it for a while. I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was shock. All I know is my mind seemed to shut down. You know, like it didn’t want to accept what it saw. When I finally realized what it was I,” she began crying, “I don’t know, I just went all to pieces…screaming, you know?” Her voice cracked, and her hand went over her mouth. “Oh, God, I’ll never forget—”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Leary. Just take it slow and easy.”
“That’s all, I guess.” She looked down at the balled up tissue in her hand. “Some people started gathering, and the next thing I knew you were here.”
“Mrs. Leary,” the officer began, looking at her with concern, “I’m going to have to ask you to describe exactly what you saw.”
“Why?” She pointed toward the bushes where the other policeman crouched. “You can see—”
“To make sure the scene wasn’t tampered with. You were the first one on the scene, so I need you to describe everything exactly as you saw it.” He indicated to the others standing around. “I understand this group of men saw the body, as well.”
“Yes, they—”
“Then I’ll be asking them the same questions. It’s just police procedure.”
She frowned at him as if she didn’t understand.
“You see, you might have seen something that they didn’t, and vice versa. When my partner and I examine the scene, we may see something more. That way, we can get everything. Positioning his pencil on the paper, he looked at her. “Are you ready?”
She looked down at the tissue, thoughtfully. “Well, he was just lying there. There was blood everywhere. He had on a gray outfit, kind of like a uniform.” She paused as if trying to remember. “It looked like the kind of thing someone might wear in jail. You know, plain, course material.”
“Did you touch it?”
“Heavens, no.” She looked up at the officer. “But it had to be government issued. Nobody would pay good money to look like that.”
“Describe the wound.”
“His h-head…” She began crying.
“Take your time.”
“It l-looked like it h-had been c-crushed.” She forced out the words. “I’ve…I’ve nev…never seen anything like it be…before in my l-life!”
The officer let her cry for a while, and then spoke gently. “Mrs. Leary, I want you to wait here. I’ll be questioning the others, and I’ll let you know when you can leave.”
She nodded while dabbing at her eyes. “Please hurry. The baby’s getting restless.”
After questioning everyone, the second officer walked up to the crime scene and looked down. “My God!”
His partner looked up. “Do you know who I think this is?”
“Who?”
“Barry Schorr.” He saw doubt on the other officer’s face as he knelt down beside him. “Look at the face. The skull has been crushed in the front, but it’s the same coloring, size, everything.” When he didn’t get a comment, he looked at the other officer, and then went on, “The garb he’s wearin’ shows he was a prisoner.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“What do you mean? A gray uniform? It’s jail garb.”
“Yeah, but look at the shoes.”
The first officer looked down at the shoes and saw an expensive pair of signature running shoes. “That don’t mean nothin’. He just changed shoes.”
“Raf, why would he change shoes, and not change clothes? It would make more sense that he changed clothes, and forgot
the shoes.”
“You mean you think this is just some John Doe that was in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
“That’s what I think, but I guess we won’t know for sure until they run some tests.”
“There ain’t no use in runnin’ a lot of expensive tests. I know it’s Schorr.”
“Look, you’re the OIC here. If you say it’s Schorr, then it’s Schorr. I just hope to hell you’re right. Did you search the body?”
“Are you kiddin’? With this garb on, he won’t have nothin’ on him.”
“Well,” the second officer said, getting up. “I guess I’d better get on the radio, so we can do this by the book.”
The officer made the necessary calls, and then walked over to Mrs. Leary to dismiss her.
“Officer,” the lady’s voice trembled, “do you know who he is…what happened?”
“We don’t know the whole story at this point, but even if we did, neither of us would be able to discuss it.” He looked down at the fussy baby and smiled. “If I were you, I’d get that baby out of the sun.”
* * * *
Blaze was frantically thrashing around in her bed. She felt a heavy weight on top of her, and had the feeling she was trapped and smothering. She opened her mouth to cry out, but nothing would come. Suddenly, something nasty pushed into her and she turned her head to try and get away from the smell of cigars, and someone’s sour, putrid breath blowing into her face. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open and she saw her uncle Ralph’s leering grin above her.
“Hey, sweetcakes, got something good for your old Uncle Ralphie tonight?”
She struggled to get away until at last she lunged forward, causing the dream to break into a million pieces. Her chest heaved, at last sucking in clean, pure air.
She leaned over and put her head in her hands.
The dreams were getting worse and she knew she would have to get help. She lifted her head and looked at Erik’s pinup that she had framed and hung upon her wall. She remembered their argument the night before when she couldn’t give in to him. He ended up taking another cold shower and rigidly staying on his own side of the bed. She looked at the clock and knew he must be out looking for a job. He had been looking ever since he moved in, and even though she tried to tell him that she made enough for both of them, he refused to live on her salary.
Funny, Blaze thought. It seemed to be kind of a sore spot with him…living off a woman.
Having to admire his sense of responsibility, she slowly got up, and went to the kitchen to make some coffee. While it was brewing, she took a shower, sat down with her steaming mug, and began leafing through the Yellow Pages. Just as she found a number and moved to pick up the receiver, it rang.
“Yeah, Blaze Alexander here.”
“I’m baaaaaaaaaack.”
She banged the phone down, fear chilling her spine. “Oh, God, not again!” she muttered, and then snatched up the phone to call the police department.
“Chief Parnell, please.”
“Ms. Alexander, good to hear from you. I was meaning to call. I’ve got some good news for you.”
Ignoring his jolly mood, she continued, “Yeah? Well, I’ve got some news too, only mine’s not so good. I just got a call from Barry Schorr.”
“Ms. Alexander, I’m afraid that’s impossible. Barry Schorr is dead. He escaped from jail, and was found in Emmet Park with his head bashed in. He’s been identified and everything.”
“Chief, there must be some mistake. I tell you, he just called me.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. Just…I’m baaaaaaaaack.”
“Obviously, someone’s playing a sick joke on you, Ms. Alexander. Just trying to scare you.”
“Who would do something like that?”
“Well, I don’t know. One of your fans maybe? You know, a woman in your business is bound to meet up with a few loonies once in a while.”
“How do you know Barry Schorr is dead? Who identified him?”
“He was identified at the scene by one of our officers.”
“I’d like to see for myself.”
The chief frowned. “You mean you’d like to go to the morgue and view Mr. Schorr’s body?”
“Yes.”
“Ms. Alexander, that’s completely unnecessary since he’s already been identified.”
“Chief, that’s the only way I’ll know for sure. May I have your permission?”
“Of course, but you should do it as soon as possible. They’re going to ship him off to L.A. tomorrow.”
“Is today too soon?”
“Not at all,” he looked at his watch. “Can you be here around three?”
“I suppose, but why?”
“I’ll be going with you.”
“I’m a big girl, Chief. I can do it myself.”
“Well, call me soft-hearted, soft-headed, or whatever, I just don’t think a woman should have to do those things alone.”
“That’s really very kind of you.”
“Fine. I’ll see you then.”
* * * *
“What’s wrong?” came a voice from the doorway. “You look puzzled.”
The Chief looked up at Rafael Higgins, the officer who identified Barry Schorr. “I don’t know, looks like I might have a panicky woman on my hands.”
Raf smiled. “Oh, one of those.” He turned to leave without saying anything else.
The chief called the officer back. “Say, Raf, when you identified Barry Schorr, were you sure that’s who it was? I mean there was no identification on him or anything.”
“Well, Schorr had escaped, and he fit the description. The only thing that didn’t gel were the shoes he was wearin’.”
“Yeah? What about ‘em? The usual prison garb, weren’t they?”
Raf looked at the chief. “No sir, they were Michael Jordan running shoes.”
The chief closed his eyes and lowered his head, his good spirits draining away. Barry Schorr had killed a man, taken his identity, and was walking the streets of Savannah when everyone thought he was dead.
The chief slowly lifted his head and looked at Raf with a frown on his face. “Raf, kiss your badge.”
Raf looked down at his badge and fondled it. “Why, Chief?”
“With the kind of police work you’ve been doin’ here lately, you might not have it much longer.”
* * * *
Chief Parnell met Blaze out in front of the police station a few minutes after three.
She walked up to him, smiling. “I appreciate you doing this for me.”
“Just police courtesy.” He smiled. “Besides, I wanted to meet you.”
“Sounds like you might be a fan.”
“I am when my wife lets me. Trouble is, she has headaches a lot.”
Blaze gave him a knowing smile as they got into the car.
As the car merged with the traffic, the chief looked over and noticed Blaze wringing her hands. “Have you ever viewed a body before?”
“No,” Blaze said nervously, and then memories of her aunt and uncle’s dead bodies swam before her.
“I remember the first time I ever viewed a body. You’d think it’d get easier, but it doesn’t. Especially when it’s kids. Know what I mean?”
“Where is he?”
“Not far from here. Sunny Acres Funeral Home.”
Blaze tried to light a cigarette with trembling hands.
“Ms. Alexander, you need to try and relax. I mean it’s not like he’s gonna get up off the table and…well, you know.”
“Sorry,” Blaze said, as the cigarette broke and crumpled in her hands. “My nerves are so tight, I feel like I’m about to fly apart.”
When they arrived, the chief flashed his badge, and gave orders to roll Barry Schorr’s body out for viewing.
“Brrr, it’s cold in here.” Blaze looked around at the odd little room. Just knowing what kind of room it was gave her as many chills as the temperature.
The chief noticed her rounding h
er shoulders and rubbing her arms, so he laid his big arm across her shoulders and covered her hands with his to keep them warm.
Finally, a body covered with a white cloth was rolled out. When Blaze saw it, she couldn’t say anything. She just stared down at the white lump.
“You ready?” the chief whispered, looking down into a face that was almost as white as the sheet.
She nodded hesitantly. “Let…let’s just get it over with.”
The chief pulled his worried gaze away from her and nodded to the attendant.
Blaze noticed that the greasy blond head and rawboned face of the attendant seemed to fit. For one crazy moment, he reminded her of the walking dead, and the stress she was feeling made her shake visibly. The room was white and chrome, everything metal. Carts, instruments, everything but the dead bodies. And it reeked of formaldehyde—the perfume of death!
Her gaze darted back and anchored on him as he moved toward the edge of the sheet and slowly pulled it back. When she saw the face being slowly uncovered, she turned away.
She couldn’t look.
Instead, she began remembering the years she had spent at KCBS, right on up to the day she walked out. She remembered all the hands up her skirts, the insulting, sliding, nasally seductive voice he used when he talked to her. And then came the day he went too far. She had bucked so wildly that he landed on the floor of his office.
Blaze was suddenly brought out of her memories when the official sounding voice of the chief asked her, “Ms. Alexander, can you definitely identify this body as that of Barry Schorr?”
Slowly, she turned and looked down at the man on the slab. Expecting to see the face she had come to hate, her eyes widened, and she gasped. Looking up at the attendant, she frowned. “Who the hell is that? You’ve brought out the wrong body. This isn’t Barry Schorr.”
The chief frowned down at her. “Are you sure?”
“Am I sure? I worked with that psycho for years. I’d know him in the dark!”
“Then there’s no chance that you’re mistaken?”
“No way, Chief. I don’t know who this clown is, but it sure as hell isn’t Barry Schorr.”
The chief frowned as he looked at the body, and nodded toward the toe tag. “You might as well take this off, Terry, and make one out that says John Doe. You’d better put the brakes on the shipment, too. No Barry Schorr, no shipment, no case closed.” The chief continued looking at the body, and said, “I wonder who in hell this joker is.”
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