She quickly got dressed, skipped breakfast, and then left the apartment. Jenny flagged a cab to take her to Cindy's place. It was not far. Under normal circumstances she would have walked but too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours. All she wanted was to be rid of the white uniform and the memory of what happened.
As the taxi pulled up to Sal's Shoe Shop on West 12th Street, the flashing lights from squad cars closing off the area made the muscles in her stomach tighten as she stared at the crowd and saw the ambulance back up closer to the black bag laying on the gurney.
"This it?" the driver asked turning to face Jenny.
"Yes." She glanced down at the address on the slip of paper, and then up at the building. "Pull over to the corner and let me out."
"You sure, lady?"
The driver put the car in gear and pulled forward. Once he stopped he turned again to Jenny with doubtful eyes. Jenny quickly handed him a handful of ones and then got out of the cab with the nurse’s uniform still wrapped in plastic and the brown paper bag with Cindy's shoes clutched tightly in her hand. She remembered Delaney in the hospital bed being held down by the man with the white hair. The key that unlocked a secret she had not figured out yet. Suddenly fear crept through her as she watched the officers standing around talking to the elderly man near the shop entrance.
"Did you see anyone loitering around?" The officer asked the old man.
"Who would do this?" Sal kept asking, not hearing the request the officer made.
"Just answer the question."
"I just got here a half hour ago, I heard the scream. I called right away."
"Who screamed?"
"I don't know."
Jenny walked up to the group of people who had gathered. She did not notice the man with snowy-white hair standing off to the side or see him trying to get closer to her.
Jenny turned to the elderly lady standing next to her. "What happened?"
The lady shrugged. "I don't know, just got here myself. The man over there said a young woman was found at the bottom of the steps."
"Did she live here?" Jenny asked. She had to know. A part of her wanted to think it was random violence in a big city, but deep down she feared something more.
"The shop owner seems to know the woman. I saw a white uniform."
Jenny's heart sank to the pit of her stomach at hearing the words. "Are you sure?" she asked staring at the old woman and then stepped back for a moment.
"Yeah," she replied and then turned to face Jenny. "You don't look so good, dear."
The old woman reached for her, but Jenny panicked: too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours for her to grasp it all. She started walking away slowly at first, still clutching the hanger and paper bag. Once she was clear of the scene, she stepped into an alley, and then tossed everything into a dumpster. Quickly she left the alley, looking again at the gathering of people in front of the little shop. It was then she caught a glimpse of the back of a man—the snowy-white hair startled her but she could not see the face.
Jenny ran down the street, turned the corner, and ran some more. She did not know whom she was running from, but feared maybe it was not a random act of violence after all. If she had not been in that hospital room yesterday, none of this would have mattered. She would still be married, and the man in the hospital room and Cindy, the nurse, would only be names in the morning paper, nothing more.
Jenny ran two more blocks before she was out of breath and could not run anymore. Quickly she clutched a lamppost for support while her eyes filled with tears. All she saw were specks of color passing by. She did not know where to go or who to turn to. Cindy was doing a favor for a patient and it cost her her life. Jenny wondered what it would cost her in the end.
CHAPTER 12
Gideon could see the flashing lights from two blocks away. They quickly drove up to the four story brick building with the large yellow sign that shot out at them like a neon billboard with large black letters, "Sal's Shoes." People were gathering, wanting to catch a glimpse of the gruesome crime scene. In a city like New York, it was the only time anyone took a break from their busy lives. Officers were busy questioning people in the crowd. Gideon pulled up behind a squad car, turned the engine off, and glanced at Jake.
"Doesn't look good." Gideon mumbled.
"You don't think..." Jake didn't finish, just stared at Gideon.
Gideon turned to Jake, and then shook his head. "If it is our girl, we have a real mess on our hands."
"But how?"
Gideon did not want to answer. All he could think about was the woman he saw yesterday and the picture in his wallet. If they were one and the same, it would be over for him. There was an ache in the pit of his stomach he had never felt before, not even after the divorce. He did not know why he should feel this way about someone he had never known, but for some reason she had been his whole reason for living. The idea that some day he would find her was the only thing that kept him going, and now he was faced with a torturous truth. In a few moments he would have that answer, but was he ready to deal with it? He was not sure.
Slowly they got out of the car, both men flashing their badges. Jake walked up and started talking to the officer in charge. Gideon watched the men in white slowly zip the black body bag. All he saw was the white uniform. He knew it was Cindy Malone. His gut told him he was too late. Gideon walked past Jake and the officers. He walked through the crowd of onlookers who had gathered. He could focus on nothing but what was before him. Then, slowly, he walked up to the black body bag on the gurney. He stood there for what seemed an eternity.
"Step back, out of the way," the young rookie cop said, as he shoved Gideon aside.
Gideon reached in his pocket as the officer stepped back reaching for his revolver. But Gideon had his badge out, extending it in front of him. And both stopped what they were doing.
"Do you have an ID on the girl?" Gideon asked.
"Yes, the shop owner said it was one of his tenants. A Cindy Malone."
Gideon turned away for a brief moment and took a few quick breaths until he got control of himself.
"You okay?" Jake asked. He was behind Gideon by then.
"Yeah," Gideon replied, rubbing his temple to ease the pain.
It was Jake who took charge. "What happened?" he asked the young officer taking notes.
"She was dead before she was pushed down the stairs," he said without any feeling for the victim laying on the gurney. The officer quickly added. "No one claims to have seen a thing."
"New York, so what else is new," Gideon said under his breath.
Jake glanced at Gideon, touched him on the arm. "They have a positive ID, she's our girl all right."
"I know," Gideon said, trying to control his voice.
The men in white picked up the gurney and started wheeling it to the ambulance.
"Wait," Gideon ordered making a move toward the gurney.
"What are you going to do?" Jake asked stepping in front of Gideon.
"I have to see her," Gideon said.
Jake tried to stop him, but Gideon shoved him aside as he grabbed the black plastic and pulled at the zipper slowly. Gideon really did not want to look at her like this, but had to. He had to be sure it was the woman he saw yesterday, the one whose picture he carried. Gideon unzipped the plastic. The white uniform was marred with dirt from the fall, the matted blonde hair, the fair complexion, the nametag that said Cindy Malone was a blur. Gideon turned with a sigh of relief. If there was a God above, he must have heard his prayers in the past three minutes. Gideon saw the slip of paper sticking out of the young woman's pocket. Quickly he reached in, pulled it out. He stared at the name, and then put the piece of paper in his pocket without anyone noticing.
"It's not the woman," was all Gideon could say as he walked away.
"She's been positively identified, this is Cindy Malone."
"Yeah, but that's not the woman I saw yesterday at the hospital."
"Are you sure?
" Jake asked.
Gideon reached in his pocket. He took out his wallet before turning to Jake. He handed Jake the picture. "This is the woman I saw."
"You said the nametag was Cindy Malone though."
"I know, but this isn't the woman."
"Why would she wear her nametag?"
"If I knew that, maybe I'd be able to tell you who killed Delaney."
"How did they know to look for her? We're the only ones who knew about the woman at the hospital."
"Shit," Gideon said under his breath.
"What is it?"
"Last night, I wrote her name down on a sheet of paper. It was a reminder to have it all checked out. I might have even noted seeing her at the hospital at one, I'm not sure."
"So?" Jake asked.
"I tossed the note in the wastebasket."
Jake shook his head. "Maybe if you'd remember who the broad was, none of this would have happened."
"Up until a few moments ago, I thought her name was Cindy Malone."
"You really make sense, Gideon. You carry a woman's picture around for how long?" Jake turned to Gideon, waited for his answer.
"Five years," Gideon shrugged his shoulders, but did not say more.
"And you don't know who she is. No wonder your wife divorced you. At least when I mess up with women, I remember their names."
"It's a long story and I don't think you would understand."
"Someday you'll have to try me," Jake snapped. "That is when we don't have bodies dropping out of the sky."
Gideon turned to the detective in charge who was standing near the shopkeeper. He waved him over.
"Have the area checked for anything that may belong to the young woman."
"What you looking for?" the detective asked.
"Purse, watch, anything else you can think of. Someone did say her purse was missing?"
"Yeah, but it's a big block."
Gideon shook his head. "She's dead just the same, but maybe if you find her purse, you'll find fingerprints. Did you ever stop to think about that?"
The detective quickly turned to the uniformed officers keeping the bystanders at bay. He yelled out instructions, and within minutes there were four officers going off in different directions.
Gideon turned to Jake. "I can't believe the man had to be told to do his job."
"Not everyone is as efficient as you," Jake snapped sarcastically.
"Don't give me that crap." Gideon turned to Jake suddenly.
"Well, you have to admit we all make mistakes."
"It's standard police procedure to comb the area. Just because she was not the mayor's daughter doesn't mean it isn't important to find out who did this."
"I’m not arguing that," Jake snapped.
"You better believe it." Gideon slowly walked away. "We should be getting back to the hospital. There are still more employees to interview."
"I'm getting tired of this whole mess," Jake said as he rubbed his head, but nothing helped the pain he felt.
Gideon tossed Jake the note he took out of Cindy's pocket. "Found this in the girl’s pocket."
"Isn't that the name Delaney was using?"
"Yeah. Makes you wonder why Cindy had it."
Jake shook his head, nothing was adding up anymore. They had five dead bodies and the number was growing. Every turn they took, lead to more. Jake followed Gideon to the car and climbed into the passenger seat while Gideon slid behind the wheel. Jake picked up the file on the dash, and then started looking through the sheets.
"What does it say about Louis Mendez?" Gideon asked as he put the car in gear and sped off down the street.
The two men had been too busy going over the information on Cindy to even worry about Louis. But now that she was dead they had to look at all angles, no matter how insignificant they appeared.
Gideon sped through traffic, running the car through its gears. He missed his old car and the feeling of freedom it offered.
"Let's see," Jake said, thumbing through the thick stack of pages. He had a hard time shuffling the sheets while Gideon maneuvered between cars. "He worked in maintenance. That kind of eliminates him."
"Does it say what floors at the hospital he worked on?" Gideon stepped on the brakes for a red light, and then waited for Jake's answer. Gideon thumped his finger on the wheel while watching Jake before the light turned green. "Well, what does it say?" Gideon asked impatiently.
"You'll never believe this." Jake said, but didn't wait for Gideon to say anything, just continued. "He cleans the seventh floor."
"What?" Gideon glanced at Jake before grabbing the file. He looked down at the information while running the car through its gear and trying to drive at the same time. "Why doesn't this surprise me?" Gideon said, shaking his head.
"Watch out!" Jake yelled. The yellow taxi missed the front fender by inches.
Gideon slammed on the brakes and stared at Jake as traffic whizzed by. Horns blared and people yelled as Gideon just sat and read the file.
"One of his duties was to clean conference rooms," Gideon said and then, without allowing Jake to say anything or point an accusing finger at him, he continued, "I really blew it this time."
The horns honking muffled the words Gideon said, but Jake knew it was not good. Quickly Gideon stepped on the gas, narrowly missing the car that was edging around him.
* * *
The adrenaline flowed, her heart raced and her skin felt clammy. Jenny did not know if it was all connected but for some reason it had to be. She was four blocks from Cindy's apartment when she finally managed to flag down a taxi, giving the driver the address for the University, not knowing where else to go or turn.
Jenny leaned back on the seat. The foul stench of stale cigarette smoke hung heavy on cushions that had the grime from the city imbedded in them. She opened the window but all that hit her was the smell of exhaust. There was no escaping the pain and misery she felt. For a fleeting moment, Jenny thought about home. She was always able to think clearly there. She reached for the driver.
"I've changed my mind," she said.
The driver glanced back at Jenny while she stared ahead at Washington Square Park just up the block. It brought back memories of peaceful times for her, but for some reason she was not ready to go there yet.
"Okay, where to?"
"West 9th Street."
Jenny was not sure Benjamin would be there. If he was, maybe he would understand the information she had. But for some reason Jenny hoped he was not. Two people were already dead, and she did not know how they were connected, but knew one thing was sure, it would not end anytime soon.
"Stop here," she said and then paid the driver before getting out.
Jenny quickly walked into the converted warehouse, waiting patiently for the elevator to take her to the top floor. She knocked first, and then listened. Her heart leaped at the sound of someone on the other side. Jenny paced, waiting for the door to open.
"Well isn’t this a surprise," Benjamin said, a broad smile crossing his face. The smock that was splattered with paint hung loose on his shoulders. He brushed his long black hair out of his eyes and then bit the tip of the brush he held while waiting for her to answer.
"I was here yesterday and dropped off an envelope," Jenny said as she glanced around the room. She was relieved he was alone.
"I didn't see it."
"I put it in the storeroom for safekeeping."
"Why did you do that?" he asked.
"I didn't want you to discover it," Jenny said sheepishly, thinking now how dumb it all sounded.
"Then why are you telling me?"
"I want to have another look at it. You don't mind, do you?" she asked.
"I told you if you wanted to store anything feel free to use the studio."
"Yes. I know, but I probably should have mentioned it first."
"No problem. Would you like a cup of coffee? I was just taking a break."
"Okay," Jenny replied. "I'll go in and get the envelope." She
quickly disappeared into the storage room where the envelope was tucked away.
Benjamin was already pouring the coffee when she walked back into the open studio area. She glanced at one of the pieces of Trish that was uncovered. It was abstract in design, but Jenny caught the glimmer in the eyes. She marveled at how closely Benjamin captured Trish's smile. Although it was not anything like the sketches that hung in her apartment, she was mesmerized by the color. One part led to another, until she stepped back and saw its entirety. She caught her breath.
"These are good," Jenny finally said.
"I don't know." Benjamin replied. He glanced at the painting that still had touches of wet paint on it. "A lot is riding on this show."
"Will you be ready?"
"Yeah, no problem, but I don't think Trish plans to show up for the opening."
"She'll change her mind, I'm sure. Just give her time," Jenny said, looking down at the wedding band on her finger.
Benjamin glanced at Jenny. "There's something else, isn't there?"
"Why would you say that?" Jenny quickly glanced up, tried to smile, but the pain was too great.
"I can read you like a book. Now tell me."
"I found out yesterday John had been dead all these years."
"Did they find his body?"
"No," she said, trying to hold back the tears.
"Then how do you know for sure?"
"It's a long story and I'd rather not talk about it. Not now at least."
"When you do, I'm here." Benjamin said. He had a solemn expression on his face. Jenny knew she could count on him.
They sat there for almost an hour talking about the man they had both loved, each in their own way. The envelope on the counter was a constant reminder of why she was there. But Jenny avoided opening it for obvious reasons.
Benjamin nervously ran his fingers through his thick black hair, and then finally turned to Jenny. "Why do you think Trish accepted the modeling assignment out of town?"
"She really didn't say," Jenny replied.
"I think she's avoiding me. We've been arguing a lot about her being at the show."
Jenny glanced over at Benjamin and then at the work he had done using Trish as the model. "You have to admit, there really isn't a resemblance. So why the big issue about your models being there?"
The Twelfth Of Never: A suspense mystery romantic thriller Page 12
