The night air may have been cool, but Carrie was sweating inside her clothing as she ran.
What to do now? Think!
She demanded of her brain. She checked once more over her shoulder. The men must have split up. One man was directly behind her, but where was the other man?
Good grief
, she thought,
is this art imitating life? I seem to be reliving a chapter from my book.
She decided to try to head back toward the
Admiral’s Saloon,
where there would be people. The minute she made the turn from the walkway, she got the answer to her earlier question. The other man was at the far end of the street, blocking her path back to the saloon.
Then she remembered what Officer Reynolds said about police cars patrolling the main avenues. She headed straight for Harbor Avenue. Behind her she could hear the sound of both men running after her. She reached Harbor Avenue and looked for a patrol car. No such luck.
Carrie turned onto Harbor Avenue at Olympic speed. She cut across the road to the other side, hoping it would buy her a few extra seconds, while the men’s eyes focused on their side of the street. However, she couldn’t silence the sound of her leather shoes on a quiet neighborhood sidewalk. She turned the corner and cut across to the opposite side of Water Street, heading toward Fleet Street, the other major thoroughfare. On Fleet she stopped for a minute, leaning against the edge of a building to catch her breath. She instinctively placed her hands in her pants pocket and felt the smooth leather of her card case.
She heard a sound and carefully peeked around the edge of the building. They were coming. She thought of knocking on a door and trying to rouse one of the residents, but then another idea began to take shape.
The answer was right next to her: a Citibank branch with an inside ATM. Carrie took out her ATM card and swiped it through the card reader to unlock the door. There was a buzz as the door released. She hoped the men hadn’t heard the door buzz as she entered the branch and pulled the door shut behind her.
Carrie hit the floor and slid under the check-writing desk located below the window of the branch. The cool floor felt good as she wedged herself tight against the brick wall. The view from the only window gave the outsider limited sight into the branch. Carrie heard someone approach
and decided this time she was going to get a look at these guys. She edged out from her hiding place to see the back of a man who was small and very thin. As she watched, she heard the second man approaching from the opposite direction. When the second man stood next to his friend, he was huge, over six feet and more than two hundred pounds. Carrie could just make out what they were saying.
The bigger man spoke with a slight accent. “Bill, where she
go? She should be here, between us, no.”
Carrie realized that had she stayed on the street, she would have been trapped between the two of them. By thinking about being trapped, she almost missed the motion of the men turning. She barely had time to scoot back against the wall. Their jewelry clanked on the glass as they cupped their hands to look through the window. She wondered if either man carried a bank card.
“Now what we do?” asked the larger man.
“I don’t know. It’s possible she ran into one of those small alleys between the townhouses. What do you think?”
said Bill.
“Maybe she hid behind that row of trash
bins on other side of street,” he offered
“
I’m pretty sure she didn’t get beyond this street. Let’s head back toward her car,” Bill suggested.
Carrie heard the sounds of the men moving away from the window. “I don’t want to admit we missed her again. This time you call Mr.…”
Carrie strained, but the men were out of her hearing range. She missed the name of the person they were going to call.
She waited. Then she relaxed a little and looked at her watch. She forced herself to wait another five minutes. They wouldn’t be traveling that fast if they were checking trash cans and alleys. Should she venture out onto the street or use the customer service phone next to the ATM? She chose the phone.
She was relieved when a person answered her call. It took only a few seconds to give her name and convince the bank representative she needed help and to send the police. Then she slid back into her hiding place. As she sat waiting for the police, she suddenly realized she also had a solution for the problem she had created in that alley for her character Ascot. She would have him hide out in the ATM lobby to escape the men chasing him, just as she had escaped her assailants. How strange that her book paralleled something in real life. Oh, well, she was sure she wasn’t the first writer who had this happen.
It was only a few minutes before she saw the flashing red and blue police lights reflecting in the window. She opened the door of the bank and looked both ways before she fully emerged onto the sidewalk.
“I can’t thank you enough for coming so quickly,” she said to the officer holding open the back door of the squad car. She climbed into the back seat, and the officer behind the wheel turned off the flashing lights. The first officer got in next to his partner and turned to look at Carrie through the metal frame of the wire cage.
Carrie didn’t wait for the officer to ask her any questions. “I guess you gentlemen would like an explanation,”
she volunteered.
“We don’t, but our captain would like to speak with you.”
“Are we going to the police station?” she asked as the car pulled away from the curb.
“No, our captain is waiting a couple of blocks from here.” They drove two blocks and pulled alongside a dark blue unmarked car. The officer once more held the door for Carrie as she left the one vehicle and entered the passenger side of the captain’s car. Then the officers pulled away.
“Hello, Captain…” She hesitated, not knowing his name.
“I’m Captain Becker,” he
said, giving her his name. He was a man in his late thirties who displayed a nice smile as he turned to face Carrie. Becker wasn’t wearing a uniform, but a dark-blue turtleneck sweater. His head was closely shaved. She could tell, because very little hair showed out from under the dark-blue cap he was wearing. Carrie found herself staring at Captain Becker. She knew she had seen him before. Then she remembered. He was the man standing on the incline at Jamie’s funeral.
“Well, Captain Becker, I’m sorry for all this trouble, but I certainly appreciate your officers helping me.”
“Can you tell me exactly what happened tonight?” he asked.
“It seems kind of silly now. I was bothered by a couple of men who just wouldn’t leave me alone. When I tried to go to my car, they began to chase me.”
“So it was just a couple of guys who wouldn’t leave you alone,” he repeated.
“That’s all it was. Now, if you or one of your men could give m
e a ride to my car at Pier Eight, I’d be most grateful,” she said, sounding totally innocent.
“
I’ll be more than happy to give you a ride,” answered Becker. The captain pulled out of the parking spot and headed toward Pier Eight. As they turned the corner onto Harbor Avenue, Carrie was sure she saw a couple of dark figures dart into an alley between two houses.
Becker pulled onto Pier Eight
, and Carrie directed him to her car. She thanked the captain again for the courtesy ride and was about to get out when he touched her arm.
“All right, Ms. Kingsford, how about the real story?
I’ve no time for games or your amateur interference in the Jamie Faraday murder case.”
“How did you know who I was?” Carrie asked, and then she answered her own question. “Ah, I gave my name to the bank representative, and of course there’s Officer Reynolds.”
“I asked Officer Reynolds to keep his eyes open for any activity or interest in the Faraday case. Reynolds gave me your name and said you were a friend of the family who was looking around the scene. I called Charles Faraday to find out
about you.”
Carrie could feel her face getting hot. “And what did Mr. Faraday say?”
“He said you and his brother were college friends. The family wasn’t sure why his brother contacted you, but he verified that his brother left you a letter requesting you investigate his death. But back to my original question: what were you doing tonight?” Becker was very well spoken which Carrie didn’t expect.
“I’m also sorting Jamie’s papers and
I’m checking to see if he was writing a story.” Carrie worked hard to keep her voice calm and even. “So tonight I was doing research to get more of a complete picture of what he was doing the night he died.”
“In order to complete my picture of what happened, as you phrase it,
I want this letter that Mr. Faraday left you. If James Faraday knew he was in danger and his death should be investigated, then that letter is police evidence,” He emphasized the word evidence.
“Unfortunately, Captain,
since the letter seemed to be causing problems, after I read it I got rid of it. However, I can assure you his letter left no clues or indicated any danger he might be in. It simply asked me to investigate his death if it wasn’t by natural causes.”
Carrie hoped her phrasing would lead Captain Becker to believe she destroyed the letter.
Carrie’s phrasing worked, as Becker snapped back, “You did what? Didn’t you realize the letter was evidence in a death that may not be accidental? See, this is what happens when amateurs decide to play detective. Vital evidence is lost.” Becker had lost control. His face was flush and a small vein on the side of his neck was protruding. Carrie thought he was about to continue his rant but instead he refilled his cup of coffee from a thermos he had next to him. He took a big gulp, which seemed to help him regain his composure.
“I have an extra cup
. You want some coffee,” he offered. Carrie shook her head no. Then the captain asked, “What do you mean the letter was causing problems?”
Carrie sat quietly, trying to decide how much information to tell Becker. She didn’t care for his outburst, and the police investigation under his direction was stalled. However, he did admit Jamie’s death m
ight not be accidental.
“If you don’t want to cooperate, I could run you in for interfering in a police investigation.”
Now Carrie was annoyed. “I’m more than happy to share information. I was just gathering my thoughts. How about a little background before I tell you why I think the letter was creating problems. First, I wasn’t aware of Jamie’s death until I received a call from a mutual friend. He also informed me about the letter.”
“Would this mutual friend be Joel Wheeler?”
“Yes, but how did…?”
“Mr. Wheeler has contacted us several times about our progress on the case as an interested friend of Mr. Faraday. So Wheeler called you
about the death, not the family?”
Carrie didn’t like the inference, but she carefully
answered, “I think the family felt that it would be easier for me to hear the news from Joel. You have to understand that while Jamie and I were close friends in college, I was never particularly close with his family.”
“I see
…the family also thinks you’re intruding. Anyway, back to this letter you received.”
Carrie
gritted her teeth and responded, “I received the letter at the funeral luncheon from Simpson, Faraday’s lawyer. That’s when I realized there was a great deal of interest in the letter.” Carrie told Becker how she asked Simpson to hold the letter and then later changed her mind and asked Simpson to give her back the letter. “Later that night Simpson was mugged.”
“You honestly think Simpson was attacked to get the letter?”
“Simpson told me that while his assailants thought he was unconscious, he heard them say they were looking for the letter.”
“Interesting.
I’ll take a look at that report when I get back to the office. Now tell me about these two men who were chasing you.”
“All right, I’ll level with you, Captain Becker. After talking to Officer Reynolds, I was heading back to the
parking lot. Two men were standing by my car. I didn’t like their looks, and I decided to head back to the Admiral’s Saloon for safety. They spotted me. The next thing I knew, they were chasing me.”
“Can you give me a description of the men?” He placed his coffee cup on the dashboard and took out a small notebook.
“The one man’s name is Bill.”
“How do you know that?”
“When I was stretched out on the bank floor, they both came up and looked in the window. I heard the one man call the other man Bill. Both men wore jeans with dark jackets. One man is about six-foot-three and stocky, like a weightlifter. The second man is small, about five-foot-six with a slight build. Together they looked like Mutt…” Carrie stopped mid-sentence. She was using the same phrase that Reynolds used to describe two of the three men on the pier the night Jamie was killed.
“You were about to say Jeff? They looked like Mutt and Jeff.”
“Yes, exactly,” Carrie confirmed.
“And you’ve never seen these men before? Maybe you saw them at the funeral or earlier tonight at the
Admiral’s Saloon?”
“No, I never saw them before tonight.” Carrie decided not to tell Becker about the garage incident. Although she had no doubt in her mind they were the same two men, she didn’t want to
tell him they appeared after a lunch with Joel. She still wasn’t willing to admit Bill and his friend might have a relationship with Joel.
Becker broke the silence,
“I guess that’s about it, Ms. Kingsford. I’ll follow-up with Simpson about his mugging, and I’ll add your adventure tonight to the Faraday file.”
“I thought the file on Jamie Faraday’s death was closed,” said Carrie.
“No, it’s not closed because I haven’t closed the file. I don’t like it when little events like a mugging or your incident tonight occur on what is suppose to be an accidental death. It tells me there might be more to this case. It also tells me that there’s still danger associated with this case.”
“You mean danger associated with these men?”
“No, I mean you, Ms. Kingsford. You are a danger to this case. You feel you’ve been given…shall we say a ‘mission’ from a dead man, and you feel obligated to overturn every stone. Without knowing who or what you’re disturbing, you’re plowing ahead. Real clues are lost, like the letter. Not to mention you’re putting yourself in danger and causing problems for my department. Let’s assume James Faraday’s death wasn’t an accident. What do you think those two men were going to do to you tonight? Ask you some questions, mug you, or murder you?”
Carrie until that moment really hadn’t given any thought to the possibility that those men were out to murder her. Her heart started to beat faster.
“Ms.
Kingsford, as of tonight I want you to stop your independent investigation! You can continue sorting Faraday’s writings, but no more excursions. If the sorting turns up something of interest, you call me.”
With that
, Becker reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card. He then wrote something on the back. “Here is my card with my office and cell phone number. If you discover something, you can call me at any time.” He reached across her and opened the door of the car.
Carrie got out of the car, turned back to Becker, and said, “I appreciate your help tonight.”
“Right, I’ll follow you onto the expressway to make sure those two guys aren’t around. But remember what I said: let the police do the investigating. I don’t want to be solving two murders.”