Murder! Too Close To Home

by J. T. Lewis

  Stopping mid-stride, she took a step back into the room, closing the door behind her before leaning against it for support. Her emotions were heightened beyond belief, but her face revealed only the mask of a professional law enforcement officer.

  “Please sit, Allen, and tell me what the rest of my life looks like.”

  Chapter 78

  April 2, 1997

  Frank and I had spent a couple of nights staking out the post office from behind the dumpster at the local McDonald’s. From here we could remain fairly well hidden and still watch the parking lot with binoculars.

  But it had been to no avail. It had now been a week since we planted the bug in the PO Box, and our gamble had about run its course with no results.

  I sat at my desk and let out a long sigh, resigning myself to the failure of this plan, thinking what our next move should be in this game of chess called murder. I had not had a dream since just after the wreck, and was now thinking maybe I depended too much on the paranormal and should just try to use my brain a little more.

  The suspension of the sheriff a week ago had come as a shock to all of us, but less so when we realized it was more of a political ass-saving move by the commissioners than anything tangible. Nevertheless the action had sent tremors throughout our little universe. Confidence of and within the sheriff’s department was at an all-time low.

  At the commissioners request, Allen had contacted the State Police once again, asking for a ranking officer to be sent down to temporarily oversee the department. Not knowing who to trust, the powers-that-be felt it better not to take any chances. Lean had taken the slap in the face stoically, leaving without a word and heading to the house.

  He had remained barricaded there ever since, his only interaction with people seeming to be with the liquor store clerk.

  Barry Frey had been making clandestine deliveries nightly of the sheriff’s preferred Old Turkey whiskey. Poor guy didn’t deserve that, but at this point the only solution to it was solving this case, a job we seemed to be monumentally failing at once again.

  Tony Finney was recovering from his wounds, although a long stay in the hospital was his fate for the foreseeable future. He has been able to give us little information on his attacker, but it had been enough to confirm our suspicions.

  He remembered a shapely woman in black, skin tight black, standing in the middle of the road. He had been dead tired, and didn’t remember seeing a gun, only hearing the noise and feeling intense pain before passing out.

  Everyone so far that has seen this woman had seemed very enamored over her looks. You would think someone like that would be easier to find.

  Betty and Frank arrived for a little meeting we had planned to go over the initial State Police investigation. With the continued tie-in between the sheriff’s department and the murders, and considering the current investigation into the department, Allen had removed the deputies from the Task Force for now.

  Additionally, Harry had developed health problems, his heart exhibiting palpitations that his Dr. thought serious enough to remove him from active duty until they could figure it out.

  Our little group was all that was left, more of a task group than a force. Except for being spread out thinner than we liked, we would handle it ok, a better set of partners I couldn’t have asked for.

  Up to this point, we had found nothing that indicated anything but good solid police work by the troopers. As to the result of the initial investigation, all deputies and jail workers passed their interviews, background checks and polygraph tests with flying colors. It was starting to look like another dead-end.

  “I’ve found an anomaly in some data,” Betty stated matter-of-factly when she had settled into her seat. “The polygraph test actually, the operator’s chart is initially hand written during the exam, which he then converted to a formal chart on the computer later on. They keep a copy of both the handwritten chart and the computer generated one in the file, as well as the tape from the machine. Problem is, there were twenty eight charts, but only twenty seven tests done according to the machine’s tape.”

  “Who was the person without the tape?” I asked, intrigued.

  “I can’t tell. They assigned numbers to their subjects. We were not granted access to this information in the files, we only have a copy of the files they left for Allen. It would be in the original files at Indy.”

  “Probably just an oversight,” I said with some annoyance. Why is it that every step we take required going back two to find an answer?

  “We still need to look at it. Allen would need to make that request to the state. Betty, can you get with him on that?”

  She nodded and started to get up when Frank added a thought to the conversation.

  “I got a crazy feeling about this, maybe we should talk to the polygraph operator himself. Have him bring the files down with him. If nothing else, going straight to the horse’s mouth would eliminate a step later.”

  We all agreed that that would be a smart move, so Betty left to find Allen and deliver our request. I was still thinking it was probably just an oversight, but the continued targeting of the sheriff in the murders meant we really needed to turn over every stone.

  Lean McHenry deserved our best effort, and we were all committed to giving it to him.

  The intercom buzzed and I grabbed the handset. “The hospital just called,” Ellen relayed matter-of-factly, “Mr. Wesley is waking up. I thought you would want to know.”

  Thanking her, I quickly replaced the phone and grabbed my notebook. “Wesley’s awake,” I said to Frank, who jumped up like he was on springs.

  “Let’s go,” he said as he led the way out of the room. It looked like we might actually have a break, both of us jumping at the chance to bring something to a conclusion for a change.

  Here’s hoping for small miracles.

  Chapter 79

  April 2, 1997

  The now-familiar beep of the monitors was relaxing to the man handcuffed to the bed.

  Jacob John Wesley, the ‘Ghost’, had been groggily coming in and out of consciousness for a few hours, feeling agonizing pain throughout his body until the next injection of pain killers.

  He had been confused the first few times he had opened his eyes, not knowing where he was or how he gotten there. The chase and the resultant wreck had finally started working its way though the haze that was his memory at that moment. The realization that he was in a hospital and that he had been apprehended had finally sunk in with the glimpse of the deputy guarding him outside his room.

  Coming to grips with his current situation, an insight had occurred to him through the pain and the haze.

  Yes, he was caught, but he was still famous, people would want to know his thoughts. Books would be written, movies made. The ‘Ghost’ was still here, and he was the ‘Ghost’.

  A smile spread on his lips through the pain, true happiness seeming to be achieved in his life.

  A nurse entered the room carrying a tray. Through half opened eyes he saw a shapely blonde woman in a short, white nurse’s uniform and tortoise shell glasses. She was turned away, filling a syringe from a bottle. He noticed her tight ass in the white dress and wished he could say something snide as she turned around and gave him a big smile.

  “Time for your pain shot, Mr. Wesley” she said in a southern drawl. Her nametag revealed her name to be ‘Jasmine’.

  “This will fix you right up.”

  ‘Jasmine? It’s her!’ He thought to himself, ‘his mentor’.

  Thumping the needle to clear the air, she inserted it in the IV and slowly pushed the contents into the line, taking the empty hypodermic and laying it again on the tray across the room.

  Coming back to the side of the bed, she smiled down on him, informing him that “It shouldn’t be long now before the desired effects take hold.”

  Still smiling, she leaned down close to his face, suddenly talking close to his ear in the now familiar, raspy whisper.

  “You should
have listened to me, Mr. Wesley; you should have listened to me.”

  Standing up again and still smiling, she turned to leave the room.

  “You all have a nice day now.”

  Wesley was now confused.

  “What did she mean by that,” he wondered. The initial confusion was quickly replaced by a searing pain radiating from his arm, then traveling throughout his body. A scream formed in his throat as he tried to open his mouth to release it.

  Neither the scream nor the pain would exit his body.

  It felt like his veins were burning with acid as his eyes now opened wide. There was a darkness creeping into his vision that seemed alive as it quickly moved around the room.

  While he helplessly watched its progress, the darkness moved closer and started to envelop him, like tentacles attaching to his soul. Before the last breath escaped his lungs, he was staring into the face of his fate.

  Two red eye-like slits stared at him from inches away as the screams of a thousand souls entered his head.

  “Welcome,” the apparition said, the tentacles pulling the soul from his body as his screams joined the others in eternal pain.

  ***

  The blonde nurse left the elevator, removing her nametag as she appeared to walk nonchalantly to the locker room to change from her shift. Arriving at her locker, she pulled open the door, taking out her small bag and setting it on the bench. Looking quickly around, she removed her glasses and tossed those and the nametag into the bag.

  She then unzipped her Nurse’s uniform, actually another one of the naughty costumes from her extensive closet. Letting it drop to the ground, she then placed it with the rest of the contents of the bag.

  Looking up, she caught the reflection of her body in a mirror at the end of the isle, enjoying the look of the black panties on her lithe body that she choose especially for this occasion. Sighing loudly, she dismissed her need to admire her sculpted body further, reaching in the bag and pulling out a tee-shirt and sweats, donning these before pulling on the running shoes.

  Reaching into her bag one final time, she pulled out the sunglasses that would mark the finish of her look. Seeming to sense someone looking at her, she looked up and around the room before confirming that she was still alone.

  Pulling the hood over her head, she zipped the bag closed and left the locker room, exiting the building through the employee entrance.

  “The Devil is in the details,” she said happily to herself with a smile on her face.

  Chapter 80

  April 2, 1997

  We walked into the hospital with high hopes, the chance to start getting some answers foremost on our minds. Our hopes were again dashed however when, as the elevator doors opened, we caught sight of the mad rush of people in blue heading into our suspect’s room.

  Making our way quickly to the window, we looked in on the melee developing within, doctors and nurses with machines fighting to bring life back into the ‘Ghost’.

  My eyes involuntarily locked onto his which are wide open and slightly bulging. The lifeless eyes appeared to show surprise, even fear. Confused, I turned to the deputy and ask what happened.

  His face is white as he started to explain that he didn’t really know. The monitors had starting blaring suddenly about four minutes ago.

  Looking into the window when he had heard the noise, Wesley had already appeared dead. It had been like this since then, he continued, people running in and out and nobody saying anything. The doctors seemed very confused he added as an afterthought, like they couldn’t understand what had happened.

  Frank tapped my shoulder, pointing my attention back into the room. The activity had suddenly ceased, with the medical personnel either standing around in defeat or shutting down equipment and cleaning up. Jacob John Wesley was still staring hauntingly at me, almost pleading it seemed. I tried to shake off the eerie feeling with little success.

  Seeing a dejected looking doctor leave the room, we cornered him down the hall and asked him what had happened. He looked down at his shoes for several moments, seemingly deciding what to say before looking up at us with his answer.

  “I don’t know,” he said, nervously licking his lips. “I just checked on him an hour ago, he was coming out of his coma. I made sure the deputy called in his status personally as soon as I knew you could talk to him. I suppose we could have missed something though, he was wracked up pretty good when he came in.”

  Looking at Frank, I suddenly knew that we were both thinking the same thing. The timing and boldness of such an act was right up her alley.

  Turning back to the doctor, I asked him to do a tox screen on the body when they did the autopsy. A confused look crossed the doctor’s face for a moment before the realization of what we were asking hit him.

  “You think someone got in here, passed the guard, and gave him something, like poison or something?”

  “It’s a possibility,” I replied, “we think he was working with someone else on the murders. That person may have thought he was now a threat.”

  Handing him one of my cards, I asked him to have someone contact me when the results were in. Nodding absently while looking down at the card, he turned to continue on his way down the hallway, stopping after a few feet to turn toward us once more.

  “If there was anyone here that wasn’t supposed to be, you might catch them on the security cameras. Just had them installed three months ago, they don’t cover this hallway, but we have them on all of the exits.”

  Turning to go once again, Frank and I looked at each other before quickly taking off to catch up with the doctor.

  “Show us where your recorders are.”

  Chapter 81

  April 2, 1997

  Two hours later, we were still looking at tapes of the various exits throughout the building, with nothing to show for our efforts save frustration. Our final tape was the employee entrance, which we had saved for last, feeling this was the least likely option a killer would have used.

  A string of doctors, nurses, and other hospital staff came and went almost constantly in and out of the picture. We had been watching this tape for about ten minutes when Frank suddenly yelled, “STOP!”

  “Rewind it about a minute,” he said with excitement. The hospital security guy did as requested, starting it again when he reached the correct time stamp.

  “Get ready to stop it quickly when I say to,” he told the operator, “run it forward on slow.”

  After running for another twenty seconds, he said, “THERE!”

  The now familiar shape of a woman in sunglasses and hooded sweatshirt appeared fuzzily on our monitor.

  “That’s her, the woman from the store!” Frank exclaimed.

  It was indeed a familiar image, confirmation of our hunch showing blurrily on the screen.

  “Think we can go back and find her entering the building?” I asked the security guy.

  “No problem,” he said, starting to rewind the tape.

  “I wouldn’t go back more than twenty minutes,” Frank said to him. “I doubt she was here any longer then she needed to be.”

  Frank proved himself correct once again, as the image of her entering the building occurred only eighteen minutes before the time the tape showed her leaving.

  I had another thought, asking Frank to wait and get a copy of the tape before I left to make my way back to Wesley’s room. Exiting the elevator, I almost ran into the deputy that had been guarding Wesley’s room. Pulling him aside, I asked him one last question.

  “Who was the last person to enter the room before Wesley died?”

  The deputy thought back, and then exclaimed, “There was a nurse that entered the room before it happened. I didn’t see her leave, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds before all hell broke loose after she did.”

  “This is very important,” I said seriously, “what did she look like?”

  “Oh, she was a looker,” the deputy started, a small smile spreading across his lips as
he recalled her details.

  “Really sweet girl, blonde hair, glasses, tight nurse’s outfit. Come to think of it, you never see anyone in a nurse’s uniform anymore, mostly wear scrubs now. Anyway, I had to turn away when I realized I was staring at her, didn’t want her to get the wrong idea, sexual harassment and all that.”

  “Did she have a name tag or any other identification on her that you saw?” I asked, hoping for any other additional information for our case.

  “She certainly did, I memorized it, hoping to maybe make a connection later, you know, after this detail was over.” His face was red as he retold his reason for knowing her name, trying to hide his embarrassment by looking down at the floor.

  Finally looking up, he sighed dreamily before uttering, “Jasmine, her name was Jasmine.”

  Chapter 82

  April 2, 1997

  Jasmine! The mastermind was cleaning up her mess?

  I felt good only about the fact that we seemed to be on the right track. Jasmine was behind the murders, and was not only stepping up her activities, but she was also closing up any loopholes that she felt threatened by.

  Frank was elated by our discoveries at the hospital, and by elated I mean he had a degree of a smile on his face.

  We didn’t feel the same level of commitment for victim or family as we usually did in this particular case, but the brazen attack on the ‘Ghost’ in broad daylight and at a public place gave us another look into the psyche of the brazen woman.

  It was incentive enough to find her very quickly, as if we didn’t have enough of that already.

  Back at the office, we found Betty and updated her as to our findings. She was pleased that it was coming together so quickly now. For her part, she and Allen had made contact with the State Police, who had agreed to send their polygraph operator down with the pertinent records the next day.