Quintic (72 page)

When both
women were
cleaned up, bandaged and
settled, they rode in the same ambulance. Chris made the drive
sitting between the two, holding Patricia’s hand. Every minute or
so, the ambulance guy spoke to them, asked their names, checked
their eyes and reflexes.

Frankke
stayed behind to talk to
the locals. “I’ll catch up with you at the hospital.”

Chris was
sure MacCarmick would be there
too, even
before they arrived.

When they
arrived at the
Emergency, MacCarmick was
indeed waiting for them. As were Shapiro and Reid.

Chris
mumbled a curse. “Fuck, Shapiro. Call back the others, I don’t want
everyone to crowd here.” A fucking pack closing in to protect its
kin. “You guys have surveillance to do, so do it!”

Reid went
back while Shapiro s
tood guard over the
other girl. “Reid’s got the night. I’ll keep an eye on the crazy
waitress while you speak with Patricia’s doctor.”

The medical
team took P
atricia to the examination
room. After the longest time, the doctor came back.

“
We’re
transferring her to an observation room. Blunt head trauma, slight
concussion, five stitches. Her injury could have been worse; the
wound didn’t bleed much. She’s lucky the ambulance got to her so
fast. I’ve requested surveillance of the next twenty-four to
forty-eight hours.”

“Can I see her?”

“
You next of
kin?” The look on Chris’s face was enough for the good doctor.
“Only a few minutes, or I’ll have the head nurse kick you
out.”

A
white
face crowned by dark curls and a
white bandage. Her hand was cold when he clamped his hands on it.
She squeezed his hand lightly but didn’t open her eyes.

“
Hey, Angel
of mine. You’re going to be just fine. You rest now, Darling,” he
whispered against her cheek. “I’m going to take care of you; you’ll
see. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Too fast,
the doctor motioned him out. “We’ve given her a mild painkiller so
no interrogation until morning, maybe later.”

“
Fine by me.
N
obody’s going to talk to her but me.”
And that could wait until she was OK. “The other woman that was
brought in, how’s she?”

“
Blunt blow
to the face. A nasty bump on the back of the head.” The bump might
have come from her head hitting the wall after Frankke’s fist
landed on her face.

Frankke
arrived at the hospital shortly after, the locals
in tow. “Steve’s at the scene. The crime scene’s
his now; his captain says I’m not impartial, threatened to call
Internal. Fucking asshole. Steve’ll call if he finds anything. The
locals here,” Frankke jerked his chin at the two officers by his
side, “came for the women’s depositions.”

“
They can
hassle the waitress all they want, but nobody goes near
Patricia.”

“
I hear yah,
man. How’s she?”

“
Resting
under observation. Light concussion. Doc says she should be
fine.”

“Thank the fuck for that.”

“
How about
giving me a breakdown while the local dicks are busy pestering the
medical staff?”

“
After our
call, I waited in the staircase for a while, going to the door
every four minutes to listen. On the one pass, I didn’t hear
nothing. I figured the women were in the bathroom or something,
waited again. Next pass, again no voices or sounds. The silence
made me edgy but not enough to barge in yet. I know how your woman
gets when you have her tail.” A light chuckle from Frankke. Cop
face from Chris.

“Go on.”

“
I jogged
downstairs, rung the bell, ran back up. I wanted a visual on the
two. Patricia never stays put long, so I figured a quick peek she
had not fled through a window was a requisite. That woman sure
keeps us on our toes.”

“
Fuck,
Frankke.”

“
Sorry,
chief. I heard the buzzer from inside the apartment. Muffled
voices. The girl peered out. I went in.” Knowing Frankke, it meant
the guy had pushed the door open as the woman was closing it in his
face. Instinct. “Living room was empty. Waitress started screaming,
tried pushing me back.” An ironic smirk from the big black. Frankke
was at least twice the girl’s size. “That’s when I saw Patricia.
She was sitting at the kitchen table, her back to me, head on the
table as if she was sleeping. I took a step closer, saw blood, lost
it, fist shot out into the bitch’s face. Unnecessary strength. No
regrets, though. I’ll use the suspension to repaint my place; it’s
been awhile.”

“
Forget it,
you’re not getting a vacation.”

“
Bummer. The
girl fell backward into the wall, and then the floor. I checked
Patricia’s injuries. She was coming to by then. She didn’t say
anything, just looked at me as if she didn’t know me. That fucking
worried me, man. I put a towel on her head, called the paramedics,
handcuffed the bitch, applied pressure on Patricia’s head, called
you, called Steve. The rest you know.”

“I don’t know shit.”

“
To quote
Ham, ‘Roger shit.’”

For now,
t
he ex-waitress wasn’t talking. Whatever
happened next, she was looking at a minimum charge of assault, and
as Patricia had been sitting at the time of the fight, the crazy
girl couldn’t plead self-defence. A vicious attack. Whatever
Patricia had been doing in her apartment, she had triggered
something. A blow to the head similar to the one that had killed
the diner victims. Damn woman.

“
We’re going
to look that Beatrice woman over again,” Steve told Chris. “Maybe,
for once, instead of trying to find a killer that fits the clues,
we’ll see if the clues fit the woman.”

“I have a hunch they will.”

Chris spent
the night
at the hospital, on a chair
next to Patricia’s door. The emergency department’s observation
aisle was a busy place. Nurses came in and out of Patricia’s room
through the night without waking her. They didn’t wake Chris
either; he hadn’t even considered sleep. He waited, his eyes locked
on Patricia’s sleeping form through the observation window. Fuck,
she was pale.

He rose,
stretched and sat back down, long legs out in front of him, hands
entwined at his nape. He waited and brood over the cases. Allowing
her to stroll about the megalopolis was a mistake. The moment he
had realised she was up to something, he should have moved her to a
safe place.
No more, Love of
mine. As soon as you’re feeling better, I will lock you up.
In a detention cell again if needed, or at
Central if that was what it took. All would be well.

She opened her eyes early
Saturday morning.

On their
Mark

E
arly the next morning, her eyes
opened on a tired-looking, unshaved, cop-face Christopher standing
guard behind the window of her room. Damn if the man didn’t look
scrumptious. She smiled at him and went back to sleep. All was
going to be well.

She
woke
again around seven, feeling much
better. Whatever drugs she had in her, they were doing the trick.
The observation room was hush-hush with the medical staff walking
around briskly but quietly. Two nanoseconds after she woke, a
matronly nurse came to see her, Christopher on her heels. He looked
far worse than she felt yet still looked damn good. Had he been
pestering the medical team all night? Probably not since the nurse
didn’t seem annoyed by his presence.

“
Hi
, Angel.”

“
Hi
to you, Big guy.”

“How do you feel?”

“
I feel
fine. Don’t I look pretty?” She batted her eyes at him, a big smile
on her face.

Chris
grinned back. Her hair was a mess; the doctor
had shaved a strip of it to stitch up her wound. A gauzy bandage
now ribboned her head, plus her face was stark white, almost as
white as the fucking bandage, and she was wearing one of them sexy
greenish hospital gown. She looked exquisite and
alive
.
“You look perfect.”

“
Ah, hum,
big liar you are.” She probed the bandage with her fingers. “They
didn’t shave my hair or anything, did they?”

“No. Nope. For sure. I don’t
think so. Not too much of it.”

She
frowned
at him. “I thought you liked my
hair. I know you do, way more than I do. You’re supposed to watch
over it. I don’t want to be bald!”

He laughed.
“You’re not bald. And it’s just hair!” She gave him a look. “OK,
yes, I love your hair. But right now, I don’t give a damn about the
waves. I’m just glad you’re alive.” She was right. It was his job
to protect her. Job, honour, compulsion, pleasure.

“
Christopher, I’m sorry. This incident isn’t in any way your
fault. I shouldn’t have gone over there. I know I shouldn’t have.
I’m really sorry. But I had been to her apartment before, and
nothing had happened. I didn’t imagine she had anything to do with
the murders. Truly, I didn’t. She took me by surprise. One minute,
we were talking, and the next,
bam!
I guess there are questions
one shouldn’t ask.”

T
he damn woman had denial down to
a fine art. He grinned at her. He already knew some of it since the
ex-waitress had confessed to some late last night, “May I ask what
you two ladies talked about?”

Patricia
knew he knew. The Big
guy’s voice was smooth as silk; he wasn’t a yeller (not with her at
least). But right now, his fists were clenched and his knuckles
white. Plus, he was simultaneously smiling
and
frowning. Moreover, the
vein on his neck was throbbing; that was a sure sign. How she
wished she could nibble the pulsing skin! “Did she say anything?
Did she apologise?”

“
As if it
was a fucking accident? Hell no, she did not fucking
apologise
.
She did not act contrite for hitting you, didn’t express regret for
hitting the girls, for neither of them.”

Despite
Christopher’s vehemence,
she was relieved that they had caught a killer and happy that she
hadn’t been too off in her story. Relieved and happy. Cases closed.
All was well.

“So I was right?”

Damn
dest woman! “About what,
Princess?”

“
She’s
gay.
”

“
I’m not
sure what she is. We have no indications she ever had an affair
with the waitresses or any woman for that matter. But she was
obsessed about the waitress. She said the girl was her friend. She
seems very possessive; said the girl betrayed her. That they had a
connexion, but the victim rejected her.”

“So she killed her?”

“
She claims
she didn’t.
Perhaps she didn’t mean to.
She was angry and just swung her clutch at her, a fucking heavy
purse. She carried one of them calculating machines, an older one
with a paper roll.” He paused and studied her.

“
She used
the purse again with the other waitress?”

“
Yes.
She
started going to the other diner,
talked to the waitress. She says they became friends. She’s crazy;
experts will interview her.”

“So the purse is the murder
weapon for both?”

“
Yes,
the purse and the calculating machine make for
the weapon for both.”

“So she killed them both? The
rain, the alley triggered the other murder?”

“
I don’t
know about the rain and the alley, but yes, she killed them
both.”

“
So, hum,
basically, if it wasn’t for me, you might never have found the
murder weapon?”

Apparently,
she still didn’t understand how close a call her visit had
been
. “Yes, Princess, you found the
weapon.” He took a deep breath. When he spoke again, the anger was
audible in his voice. “Yes, you fucking found it. Congratulations!
It’s the same bag she hit you with.”

“
I’m not
sure how I fee
l about all of this. If I’m
honest, I think I’m both angry and happy.” She smirked and closed
her eyes. “I’m happy because you guys didn’t have a clue. I know
it’s bad, but it still makes me happy as it kind of proves my
point.”

“
Patricia,”
he w
arned in his voice although,
unfortunately, she was right. They never saw it coming.
Worse,
he
never saw it coming.

Her eyes
widened as she continued as if
she had
not heard him, “I’m angry because I never saw it coming. Not a
clue. Good thing you had me tailed,” she added, finally (somewhat)
acknowledging his tail’s usefulness. “If I had thought she was the
murderer, I would never have gone to her place.”

Wouldn’t
she
have? Somehow, Christopher wasn’t
entirely reassured. Not that it made a fucking difference now for
she had gone and had got hurt. Beatrice was sick; she might not
have meant to injure Patricia. Then again, Bea denied any criminal
intentions regarding the two dead waitresses.