Angel of Mercy

by Andrew Neiderman

  “Anyone can make love in his bedroom.” He started to lower her to the floor. “Frankie, stop. Wait.”

  “Don’t move,” he said. “We’ve never made love in this entryway, and I’ve always wanted to.”

  “What?” She laughed, but he rushed into the living room, got some cushions off the sofa, and hurried back. “Frankie, you’re not serious?”

  “Hell, I’m not,” he said. Moments later, they were both naked, embracing and making love as fervently as ever they had. Midway through, Jennie paused. He saw the concern in her eyes.

  “The doctor didn’t say anything about strenuous lovemaking,” he told her. His heart was pounding, but he wasn’t going to stop now. “Besides, what better way to go?”

  She closed her eyes again, her facial expression a mixture of pleasure and prayer. Even so, they continued the best lovemaking they had experienced in a long time. Afterward, they lay there on the entryway floor, neither wanting to end the moment too soon. Finally, Jennie burst out in laughter.

  “I can’t believe where I am and what I’ve done here,” she said.

  “What if the Mortons came to the door with a senior citizen discount?”

  “Stop,” she said giggling uncontrollably.

  “Don’t all married couples make love in their entryways occasionally?”

  “No. Most normal people don’t.” She started to gather her clothes. He followed her into the bedroom. A little while later they were snuggled together.

  “Now this makes more sense,” she said.

  “Ready for an encore?”

  “Frankie!”

  “Just testing,” he said. “I had a great time tonight.”

  “See? It’s not so hard to live like everyone else. You don’t have to be afraid of retirement.”

  “Are you kidding? This is more strenuous than police work,” he said.

  They kissed and held each other until they both grew too tired to keep their eyes open. Sleep came quickly and deeply, so deeply, in fact, that Frankie didn’t hear the phone ring early the next morning until it had rung for the third time; and it was on his side of the bed, too.

  “I really debated whether or not to call you this early, Frankie,” Rosina said. “Nolan insisted I do. Now that I know I woke you, I wish I hadn’t. It could have waited until you came in, but you know our relentless chief of detectives. He always gets his man or … woman.”

  “It’s all right,” he said in a loud whisper. Jennie, remarkably, had not woken. “What’s up?”

  “Nolan filled me in on your investigation earlier. He was quite excited and even said some nice things about you.”

  “He’s getting religion.”

  “Anyway, we’ve got a homicide. Been working on it most of the night. There are some aspects of this that might interest you, considering your case, that is.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Frankie said. “I’m going to another phone.” He slipped out of bed as quietly as he could. Jennie moaned, but she didn’t turn over or open her eyes. He tiptoed out and into the kitchen where he picked up the receiver.

  “Okay, what do you have?”

  “Last night the receptionist at the Sunny Dunes Motel noticed the door of one of the occupied rooms was open and, on closer inspection, saw a hand sticking out. She went over, gazed in, and found one Arnold Ratner, naked and dead on the floor. Derek and I attended the scene. No signs of any struggle, no bruises, except I noticed a small trauma on the back of his neck.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Just got a report from pathology and thought immediately of you.”

  “Come again?”

  She laughed.

  “I don’t mean you personally. Seems someone stuck a hypodermic into Mr. Ratner and injected him with … something called Tubarine. It’s a nueromuscular blocking agent, normally used to promote muscle relaxation during surgical anesthesia and occasionally used to control convulsions. Highly lethal in an overdose, with rapid results when injected. That’s word for word on the report,” she said.

  “Another medical murder,” Frankie muttered. “Who was this guy? Any recently deceased relatives?”

  “No, he doesn’t fit that part of your MO, Frankie, but who he was and where he came from will be of great interest to you.”

  “You’ve got my full attention, even at this early hour,” Frankie said, noticing it was not quite six-fifteen.

  “He was from Phoenix, a hospital technician in the pathology department at the hospital in which your suspect, Faye Sullivan, did some private-duty nursing.”

  “That is very interesting. How old was this guy?”

  “Thirty-two. Lived with his mother. Don’t know much more about him at this point, but we’ve been in touch with Phoenix and they’re digging up what they can. I’m expecting a phone call from them at any time.”

  “I’ll get dressed and come down now. Didn’t Nolan have you on some car wash, car parts scam all day yesterday?”

  “That he did. We had just made the arrests and finished all that paperwork when this call came in. Derek and I are both beat.”

  “You’re working too hard, Flores.”

  “Just getting used to filling your shoes,” she replied. He thought a moment.

  “Yeah, well maybe that ain’t such a big deal. Look at where hard work got me.”

  “Retired on a pension,” she said. “Quit complaining. How are things at home? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

  “Actually, we’re experiencing a delightful period of calm.”

  “Eye of the hurricane, Frankie.”

  “Thanks. See you at oh seven hundred or so,” he said. She laughed.

  After he hung up, he stood there thinking. He was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to wrap this thing up neatly before he had to go in for his pacemaker, even after he had interviewed the twin who was a maid. But if she or her sister or both of them were involved in this new murder, it might wrap it all up very quickly.

  Christ, he thought, shaking his head, what a way to go about killing people … using medicines that were designed to ease pain, cure illnesses, and defeat death. How could he ever look at a nurse or a doctor again and not think about this? We place such trust in the medical world, let them poke and prod, cut and snip our bodies with relative impunity. We trust them more than we trust our own mothers. We take their word for it that the medicine that’s supposed to be in that hypodermic or in that IV bag is the right medicine in the correct and safe amounts.

  What a betrayal, he thought. What a cruel, sick betrayal, especially of older people who are far more dependent?

  I’m going to end it all today, he vowed, and then he returned to the bedroom and moved as quietly as he could in the bathroom. Jennie didn’t wake up until he had most of his clothes on and was just pulling on his socks.

  “How did you get out of this bed and dressed so quietly?” she asked.

  He shrugged.

  “I wasn’t especially quiet. You were just dead to the world. Face it, you can’t take the fast life.”

  “Never mind. What time is it?” She gazed at the clock. “Why are you leaving so early? Did you have any breakfast?”

  “I’ll get something on the way.”

  “No you won’t,” she said, sitting up. “What’s going on, Frankie?” She ground the sleep out of her eyes quickly.

  “I have a chance to finish this thing off today,” he replied. “There was a homicide yesterday that looks like a tie-in.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got to report to the command bunker.”

  “Frankie, you’re not going to do anything alone, anything … dangerous, are you?”

  “I once told you, statistically it’s more dangerous to smoke a cigarette.”

  “Neither of us smokes, Frankie. Answer my question,” she insisted.

  “These people don’t kill in your usual violent manner with guns and knives. They poison their victims with medicine. I ain’t about to accept a Coke from my suspect,” he replied. “Anyway, Nolans putting a few of us on thi
s now. I’ll probably just be riding shotgun. You know Nolan—he’ll want to claim full credit for breaking the case.”

  “Let him. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

  “But myself,” he corrected.

  “I want you to call me if you’re not meeting me for lunch,” she said.

  “Yes, dear.” He stood up and then leaned over to kiss her. “I’ll call you.” He started out.

  “Frankie!” She got out of bed and rushed to him as he turned. She kissed him again. “Be careful. You’re almost home.”

  “Okay,” he said softly, and he walked out. Before he got to the front door, the phone rang again. He picked it up in the living room.

  “Samuels.”

  “Frankie, Rosina. We just got the call from Phoenix. They interviewed the mother and she told them her son was going to Palm Springs to find the woman he loved.”

  “Woman he loved?”

  “Yes. He told her the woman’s name … Susie Sullivan.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “Forensics has lifted loads of prints from the motel room, so if she touched anything, we should be able to tie her to the scene.”

  “Right.”

  “Looks like you hit the jackpot with your urban cynicism and good old policeman’s instinct, Frankie. I never saw Nolan this impressed.”

  “Leave out that old part,” he said.

  “Nolan wants you to come down to talk strategy. He’s pacing back and forth in his office like a tank commander.”

  “I was almost out the door when you called, but what strategy? The thing to do now is simply pick up the sisters.”

  “Nolan says …”

  “I can swing by their place on the way. You want me to do it by myself or you gonna meet me there?”

  “Frankie …”

  “Most probably they killed that man last night, Rosina. They might already be gone.”

  “I’ll tell Nolan I didn’t reach you. You had already left,” she said. “I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes. Wait for me and Derek.”

  “Gotcha,” he said and cradled the phone. Then he hurried out of the house and into his car. When he pulled away, he gazed up at his rearview mirror and saw Jennie. She had come to the front door to watch him drive off.

  The image of her standing there lingered in his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad omen, but he knew he had better not dote on it. Those who were too careful usually made fatal errors, he thought as he drove on.

  Tillie sat at the kitchen table like someone who had been lobotomized. She chewed mechanically and swallowed with great effort. Susie sat across from her, observing, her heart aching with sympathy. Faye was still sleeping and didn’t know she had left the apartment to visit Tillie. But she had to move quickly, didn’t she? Faye was determined to move on and might very well pack their things in the car today and just leave. She had done that before.

  “How about some tea, Tillie?” Susie asked. “Those Danish Mrs. Solomon brought you last night look good.”

  “I don’t taste anything,” Tillie said, but she eyed the Danish with some interest. “Maybe a little tea would help.”

  Susie nodded and got up to prepare the cup. She cracked in four tablets of Dilantin.

  “Just lemon, right, Tillie?”

  “Please.”

  She brought her the cup and cut a piece of Danish, placing it on a small plate and setting it beside the tea. Tillie fed herself with a teaspoon for a few moments and then nibbled on the Danish.

  “How long were you two married, Tillie?” Susie asked. Questions about Morris and her were the only questions that rekindled the light in Tillie Kaufman’s eyes.

  “Forty-five years this November sixth. We got married twice, though.”

  “Twice? Why twice?”

  “First,” Tillie said smiling, “we ran off and got married in Atlantic City. We spent a week together as man and wife before we told our parents. Then they insisted on a big Jewish wedding. My father spent what was a fortune in those days. Morris was so handsome in his tuxedo. You saw the picture?”

  Of course Susie had. The picture was at the center of a dozen or so photographs arranged neatly on a sofa table. Tillie laughed.

  “We returned to Atlantic City for our second honeymoon.”

  “When did you come to California?”

  “About ten years after our marriage. Morris’s uncle Leo had started a plumbing supply business in Ventura and needed a good manager. Morris did the books, too. It was a good business, but Leo was a terrible businessman, always investing in some crazy real estate deal. A dreamer. Eventually, he lost it all, but Morris was conservative with our money and we had enough to retire on when the time came.”

  “You still have the house in Ventura?”

  “No, we sold it when we moved back East.”

  “And then you started to spend your winters here in Palm Springs and decided this was where you wanted to retire?”

  Tillie nodded. She drank some more tea and bit more eagerly into the Danish.

  “Most people back East go to Florida when they retire,” Susie said.

  “Morris said he didn’t want to winter in Florida with all the other senior citizens. He said he agreed with Buddy Hackett, Florida was God’s waiting room.” She started to laugh but then looked around the empty apartment. “So this turned out to be God’s waiting room instead.”

  Tears emerged. She took a deep breath and sat back in a daze. Susie stared at her a moment and then smiled.

  “You mustn’t think of him as too far away. Think of him as standing in the distance by a doorway, waiting for you,” she said.

  Tillie nodded. She finished her tea.

  “He waits, he waits,” she said, placing the empty cup neatly on the saucer. “Morris was good at waiting. A more patient man you couldn’t find.”

  “But he doesn’t want to be alone either, does he?”

  “I always said it would be better for me to die first. Morris was stronger. Now look.”

  “He can’t be that strong,” Susie insisted. “He’s lonely without you.”

  Tillie shifted her eyes toward Susie curiously.

  “What lonely? He’s probably with his gin rummy buddies who were all dead before him. When he and they were all alive, the world could blow up and they’d still be playing cards.”

  Susie rose and began to clear the dishes off the table.

  “I should help,” Tillie said. She started to rise.

  “I don’t need you to help. It’s nothing.”

  “I always take a bath in the morning,” Tillie said. “But this morning I barely put water on my face.”

  “So take your bath now. I’ll draw you a bath. I know you like to soak in the tub.”

  “Such a good girl. I’ll miss you,” Tillie said.

  “Miss me?” Susie smiled. Did Tillie understand? Did she know she was soon to join Morris in Paradise?

  “I’m going back East. I called my sister Sophie and she wants me to come stay with her.”

  “When?” Susie demanded.

  “A couple of weeks, maybe.”

  “But Morris …”

  “What about Morris?” Tillie asked. Susie stared at her. How could two people be married so long and not think about being together forever? She’s just confused now, Susie concluded. She doesn’t know what to do. She smiled.

  “Morris would want you to be happy. He doesn’t want you to be lonely,” she said.

  Tillie shrugged.

  “I’ll live. Why, I don’t know, but I’ll live.”

  “I’ll run your bath,” Susie said. “A good soak will make you feel better.”

  The Dilantin had begun to take effect. Tillie moved in a daze and let Susie lead her to the bathroom.

  “Maybe I should just rest on the sofa,” she said gazing down at the water rushing into the tub.

  “After a quick bath. You need to relax your body. You said yourself, you didn’t get much sleep.”

  �
��My body feels asleep already,” she said. It made Susie laugh, but she pushed on, helping Tillie off with her clothes and then guiding her carefully into the tub.

  “I’ll wash your back for you.”

  Tillie nodded.

  “Everyone’s jealous who comes here and sees how much you and Faye have helped me.”

  “They have no reason to be. We’d help them, too, if we had to,” Susie said. Tillie nodded and leaned forward as Susie scrubbed her back in small circles.

  “That feels good.”

  “I’m glad. What was Morris’s and your favorite song?” Susie asked.

  “Song?”

  “Didn’t they play a song at your wedding?”

  “Oh yes. You wouldn’t remember it.”

  “I know a lot of old songs. Try me.”

  “It was ‘I Can’t Help but Say I Love You.’”

  “‘Won’t you say you love me, too?’” Susie continued.

  “You know it?” Tillie asked, surprised. But of course Susie knew it. She had heard Tillie singing it before, and Morris had told her it was their wedding song. Susie started to hum the melody. Tillie’s body shuddered with her small sobs. Then she sighed deeply.

  “He was so handsome,” she said. “So handsome.”

  “Close your eyes, Tillie. Lean back and relax for a while. Just soak,” Susie said. She guided the elderly woman back in her tub until she was comfortable, and then she put the washcloth over her forehead and stood up. Tillie’s eyes fluttered. She took a deep breath and relaxed. Her eyes closed slowly, opened, and then closed and remained closed.

  Susie continued to hum Morris and Tillie Kaufman’s song as she returned to the kitchen and went to her pocketbook. She plucked out her surgical gloves and put them on, still humming away. Faye had said the detective was interested in her because she had used the same … What was it? MO? Well, she would change the MO this time. She had thought it out carefully, however, and had decided something of Morris’s should be used. It would join Tillie with Morris in the afterlife more quickly.

  Back in the bathroom, Tillie Kaufman’s breathing had become slow and regular. The sleeping pills had kicked in. Susie smiled and then looked up at the ceiling.

  “Are you listening in, Morris? Do you have your ear to the ceiling just the way you used to have it against my sister’s wall? She’s coming. Be patient.