Frayed Edges

by Terri Reid

  She hurried across the lab and entered the rat room again.

  “I think we should pick Chandler up for questioning,” Alex said.

  “But we really don’t have anything to go on,” Mary said. “Other than his weird obsession with rats.”

  “And the fact he has date rape drugs in his desk,” Alex said.

  “Ruth wasn’t raped or drugged,” she said. “She was shot.”

  “But Chandler was the one who told her about the field next to Gund Cemetery,” Bradley added.

  “What?” Alex asked.

  “Chandler was the one who suggested Ruth get samples from the field near the cemetery,” Mary confirmed. “And this morning, I think I saw him leaving the cemetery.”

  Bradley nodded. “And my deputies dug up the bodies of dozens of rats.”

  “Okay, that’s creepy,” Alex said. “I think we need to, at the very least, talk to him.”

  Mary nodded. “Yeah, he’s been on the top of my suspect list,” she agreed. “I guess talking to him can’t hurt.”

  “I’ll have one of my guys pick him up and bring him into the station for questioning,” Bradley said, and then he turned to Mary. “Do you want to come to the station or do you need me to drop you off at home?”

  She looked at her watch. It was already past nine o’clock. “Actually, I’d really like to be there when you question him,” she said.

  “Okay,” Bradley said. “Ready to go?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry, just let me run to the bathroom first.”

  The third floor bathroom was now becoming familiar to Mary. She slipped inside the door and started to walk to a stall when Ruth appeared next to the counter.

  “What are you doing here so late?” Ruth asked.

  “Give me one minute,” Mary said. “Then I can talk.”

  True to her word, a minute later Mary was at the counter, washing her hands. “We followed some clues that led us back here,” Mary said.

  “Were they good clues?” Ruth asked excitedly.

  Mary nodded. “Well, I think we’re getting closer,” she said. “We’re going to be picking up Chandler for questioning.”

  “Chandler?” Ruth asked, looking confused. “It can’t be Chandler.”

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chandler slipped the backpack off his shoulder and placed it on his kitchen counter. He hurried back to his door to make sure the deadbolt was in place. “Can’t let anyone see what what’s going on,” he whispered to himself, “can I?”

  Walking back to the kitchen counter, he pulled out the gallon-sized, plastic bags that contained the remains of the rats that had been used for experiments that day and placed them side by side on the counter.

  “I’ll take care of you guys tomorrow,” he said. Then he looked down and noticed that one of the bags hadn’t been sealed, and the rat inside was still twitching. “You really shouldn’t be alive.”

  Sighing, he looked around the kitchen. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked, holding up the plastic bag and shaking his head. He put the rat down on the counter, unzipped another section of his backpack and pulled out a small vial with clear liquid. Then he pulled out a small syringe. “This will take care of you.”

  Sticking the needle into the top of the vial, he filled the syringe with a small amount of fluid. He turned back to the rat, still moving slightly in the plastic bag. “In one more minute,” he said, sticking the needle through the plastic and into the body of the rat. “You will be asleep forever.”

  He emptied the drug into the rat’s body, watching as its movements stilled and the rat stopped breathing. He smiled and nodded. “Okay then,” he said.

  He opened his refrigerator, which had an upper shelf with milk, some cheese and a couple cartons of yogurt, and slipped the plastic encased rats into the empty middle shelf. “It’s just like a morgue,” he said, as he placed them on the metal rungs. “You’ll stay nice and fresh.”

  Once they were all inside, he closed the door and opened the freezer. He reached in and pulled out another container, a frozen pizza, and put it on the kitchen counter.

  “Yes, pepperoni,” he said to himself.

  Walking across the kitchen, he turned on the small oven to preheat it and then went over to the sink to wash his hands. He pulled a knife out of the silverware drawer to slit the plastic covering the pizza and walked back over to the counter. He’d just inserted the tip of the blade into the plastic when the doorbell rang.

  He glanced up at the clock and shook his head. It was about 8:30. Who could be dropping by?

  Opening the door, he was more than a little surprised to see Charlie standing in the hallway. “Hey, Charlie,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” Charlie said. “But I’m pretty upset about Ruth’s death, and I was just wondering, you know, if we could just talk for a little while.”

  Chandler smiled sympathetically and nodded. “Yeah, dude, sure,” he said, opening the door to his apartment. “Come on in. I was just going to make a pepperoni pizza, you want some?”

  Charlie nodded. “Yeah, that would be nice,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “Hey, no problem,” Chandler replied as he walked back to the counter. He looked over at the oven that was still preheating and turned back to Charlie. “You want something to drink? I got cola and root beer, nothing harder.”

  “A cola would be great,” Charlie said after slipping off his coat and joining Chandler in the kitchen. “You know, as long as you’re having something, too.”

  “Oh, sure,” Chandler said, barely opening the refrigerator door to grab two cans of cola. “I’m ready for a caffeine boost. It’s been a crazy day.”

  He put both cans on the counter, slid one over to Charlie and popped the opening on his own. But before he could drink, Charlie put his hand out and stopped him. “You know, I was thinking that maybe we could do something special,” he said.

  Chandler put his soda on the counter. “Like what?”

  “You know, like make a toast to Ruth and then chug our drinks,” he said. “I think Ruth would like that. She used to like our chugging contests.”

  Smiling, Chandler nodded. “Hey, that’s a great idea,” he said. “Let’s…”

  The alarm went off on the oven to signal it was preheated.

  “Oh, hey, go on and put the pizza in,” Charlie said. “Then we can toast.”

  Nodding, Chandler cut the rest of the plastic covering, slipped the pizza and cardboard backing off the counter and walked over and placed the pizza in the oven. He set the timer for twelve minutes and went back to join Charlie.

  “I didn’t know you could cook, man,” Charlie said.

  Chandler grinned and shrugged. “Well, yeah, my mom kind of taught me,” he said.

  Charlie laughed and nodded. Then he held up his can. “To Ruth,” he said. “Gone from our lives way too soon.”

  Chandler wiped a tear from his eye and sniffed loudly. Then he held up his can and touched it to Charlie’s. “To Ruth,” he said. “One of the nicest people I’ve ever known.”

  They clinked their cans one more time and then chugged down the contents without taking a break. Chandler slammed his can down on the counter and crushed it. “To Ruth!” he yelled.

  Charlie followed suit. “To Ruth,” he said, smashing his can, too, but only crumpling it slightly.

  Chandler picked up the can and lobbed it across the room into the trash can. Charlie followed suit, bouncing his against the wall and then into the can.

  “Score,” Chandler cried, smiling at Charlie. Then Chandler grabbed the counter with both hands.

  “What’s wrong?” Charlie asked calmly.

  “I don’t feel good,” Chandler stammered. “I don’t feel good at all.”

  Charlie walked over to Chandler, put his arm around his waist and helped him to a chair. “Okay, just let me clean things up, and we can go for a ride,” Charlie said.

  “A ride?” Chandler groaned confused.


  “Uh, huh,” Charlie said as he walked over to the oven, pulled the pizza out and threw it in the garbage can. He walked back and then turned off the oven.

  “Where do you keep your paper and pens?” Charlie asked.

  “In my backpack,” Chandler groaned and then clutched his stomach. “Dude, I feel really sick.”

  “Don’t you know that you’re never supposed to leave an open drink alone?” Charlie said casually as he pulled out a pen and paper and began to write. “Someone might put something into it.”

  “Charlie what are you doing?” Chandler asked, his eyesight becoming blurred.

  “Oh. Well, we’re going to go to the cemetery,” Charlie said looking up from the paper.

  “Not tonight,” Chandler replied, his speech becoming more slurred. “I don’t have to go until the morning.”

  Charlie shook his head, propped the note up on the edge of Chandler’s backpack and shook his head. “No, Chandler,” he said. “By tomorrow morning you will be dead. Just like Ruth.”

  Charlie walked over and pulled an incoherent Chandler to his feet. “Here we go,” he said. “All you have to do is place one foot in front of the other.”

  “Charlie, I don’t…” Chandler couldn’t form any more words.

  “See, Chandler, this is just how your rats feel,” Charlie said. “Isn’t it fitting that you’re going to die in the same field as your rats?”

  Chapter Forty-six

  “Why can’t it be Chandler?” Mary asked Ruth as they stood next to the counter in the bathroom.

  “Because Chandler couldn’t hurt a fly,” Ruth said. “Much less point a gun at someone and shoot.”

  Mary shook her head. “Wait, didn’t both you and Sonja joke about how Chandler was obsessed with killing the rats?” she asked.

  Ruth closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. She opened her eyes and looked at Mary. “No, he didn’t hurt them,” she said. “He was obsessed about them being hurt. He hated when we had to use them for experiments, and he refused to let them be treated like garbage. He said they were warm-blooded creatures and they deserved a decent burial just like anyone else.”

  “Which is why he was at the cemetery so often,” Mary replied.

  Ruth nodded. “It is the closest cemetery to Granum,” she said. “And he never buried them in the cemetery itself, only on the other side of the fence.”

  “Why did he have the ketamine at his workstation?” Mary asked.

  “Because sometimes we couldn’t use any anesthesia when we were testing the rats because it would jeopardize the results, so they were often in pain,” she said. “Some of the interns would just leave them in their cage, suffering until they died. Chandler would go in and give them a shot of ketamine, which would stop the pain. Chandler said they would just go to sleep and that was a better way to die. He really cared about those little creatures.”

  No wonder the ghost rats stayed around Chandler. He was the one that saved them from suffering, Mary thought. But then why did they come to her house? And why did they lead her here?

  “Which of the interns were cruel to the rats?” Mary asked, a sneaking suspicion in the corner of her mind.

  “Charlie seemed to really enjoy making them suffer,” Ruth said with a shrug. “But Charlie was kind of mean to people, too. He just didn’t seem to like anyone.”

  “But, he said he would bring food to you when you were working at the lab,” Mary replied.

  Ruth shook her head. “He never did that,” she said. “And if he did, I would worry that it was poisoned or something.”

  “I need to get back to Bradley,” Mary said. “Can you come back with me?”

  “Sure,” she said. “I’ll come with you.”

  Mary hurried back to the lab and found Alex and Bradley having a discussion with Angela.

  “I don’t think Chandler is our guy,” Mary said plainly.

  “Why not?” Alex asked.

  Mary turned to Angela. “Angela, can you tell us what Chandler did to the rats?” Mary asked.

  Angela shrugged. “He gave them the ketamine to make sure they didn’t suffer when we put them down,” she said. “But we have no liability here. We didn’t buy the ketamine. Chandler pays for it by himself.”

  “He bought anesthesia for the rats, so they won’t suffer?” Bradley asked.

  Mary nodded. “And then, because he felt that any warm-blooded animal deserved a proper burial and not just a toss in the garbage can, he buried them outside the property limits of Gund Cemetery because that’s the closest one to Granum.”

  Alex shook his head. “Okay, so he’s sounding less and less weird,” he admitted.

  “But perhaps Angela would like to share what Charlie did with the rats,” Mary said.

  Angela shook her head. “I’m not down here most of the time,” she replied easily. “I have no idea what the interns do.”

  “Except for the time she walked in on him abusing the rat,” Ruth said.

  “Except for the time you walked in on Charlie abusing one of the rats,” Mary repeated.

  Angela turned and stared at Mary. “How did you…” she paused and nodded. “Yes, there was one time when I entered the rat room and saw Charlie behaving in an overtly cruel manner to one of the lab rats.”

  “She interviewed us, and we told her he did it all the time,” Ruth added.

  “What did the other interns say when you interviewed them about Charlie’s actions?” Mary asked.

  Angela just stared at Mary for a long moment, and then she finally answered. “They told me it was common for Charlie to act like that,” she said.

  “Why didn’t you fire him?” Mary asked.

  “Because he threatened that he would go to PETA and let them know about the abuses we allowed the rats to suffer,” she said. “He had recorded his abuses on his phone, without his face or voice, but with enough identifying material to implicate Granum. We had no choice.”

  “You had no choice, but to allow him to torture animals because Granum might have received some bad publicity?” Mary asked.

  “That’s the way it is in the real world,” Angela said. “You have to make choices.”

  Bradley’s phone rang, and he picked it up immediately. “What?” he asked. “Okay, stay put, and I’ll call you right back.” He looked up and met Mary’s eyes. “Chandler isn’t home. And my deputies said they found a suicide note.”

  “A suicide note?” Mary repeated. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would Chandler want to commit suicide?”

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Charlie drove straight to the field next to Gund Cemetery, looking for a place to park that wouldn’t leave tire tracks. He glanced over at the Visitor’s Center, still busy with holiday travelers, and shook his head. Too many people.

  He pulled his car around and headed back towards Highway 20. He turned left on the highway and drove to the first left turn, then pulled across the westbound lane and into the driveway of the farmer whose land abutted the cemetery. The house was several yards away from the drive, so after turning off his headlights, Charlie slowly drove down the gravel drive behind the house and outbuildings towards the harvested field.

  A light turned on in the back of the house, so Charlie quickly turned off his car and waited. He was parked behind an older silo, beyond a large concrete pad that ran between a cluster of older, faded farm buildings. The house was north of the outbuildings, but smaller buildings created sight barriers between the back porch and the silo.

  Charlie watched as the back door opened and a man armed with a flashlight came out onto his back porch. He slowly scanned the outbuildings, paying particular attention to the chicken coop. The flashlight missed the old silo, and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, the man closed the door and the porch light was turned off.

  His heart beating, Charlie took several deep breaths, calming himself and waiting for a little while before daring to turn his car back on again. He waited until several semitrailers rumbled
down Highway 20 in front of the house before he started his car again. Once the engine was running, he held his breath and watched the door. Nothing.

  Putting the car into gear, he turned down a dirt-packed, tractor lane that ran down the edge of the field. At the edge of the field, he flipped on his headlights and slowly drove down the land, the car being tossed back and forth as it traversed the uneven ground. Finally, he could see the cemetery fence in the distance. He stopped his car and turned to Chandler, who was unconscious in the seat next to him.

  “We are really close to where Ruth was standing when I shot her,” he said to Chandler, and then he shook his head. “You know, if she just hadn’t been so smart. If she had just been more careless with her data. If her passwords had just been easier. I really didn’t want to kill Ruth. I just needed her paper.” He sighed. “When you look at it that way, it was really Ruth’s own fault that she died.”

  He stepped out of the car, walked around to the trunk and opened it. Withdrawing a rifle case, he slipped it over his shoulder and then walked to the passenger door and opened it. “So, this is what we’re going to do,” he explained, slapping Chandler’s face to wake him up.

  Chandler started and then groaned softly.

  “Good,” Charlie said. “I’ve got your attention. So, we are going to take a little walk into the field, okay?”

  Chandler nodded, rubbing his sore face. “Okay,” he slurred.

  “Then you’re going to sit down and cross your legs,” Charlie said, “so I can prop the gun between your legs and your mouth. Then I’ll put your hand on the trigger, and all you have to do is pull the trigger. Okay?”

  “Charlie, I don’t feel good,” Chandler moaned.

  Charlie grinned. “Don’t worry big guy,” he said. “Soon you won’t be feeling anything at all.”

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Mary turned to Angela. “We need to get access to Charlie’s workstation,” she said.

  “What?” Angela scoffed. “Why? If Chandler kills himself, the case is solved.”