3 Can You Picture This? (4 page)

Then it happened.

George’s phone dinged, signifying a text message. He smiled as he said, “I’m not going to check it. I’m off tonight. I worked hard to get a sub for tonight. That’s why I’m working Sunday.”

Against my better judgment I said, “You probably should check it. It might be any kind of emergency.”

He shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and said, “Okay, if you think I should. I want Adam and Sarah to be witnesses that I’m only doing this because you suggested I check it.” Both Sarah and Adam smiled too as he said it.

As George looked at the text his brow furrowed. It seemed he took a very long time before his head came back up and he looked at me.

“Oh, no,” was what I said.

“Oh, yes,” was what he said.

He took in all three of us as he continued, “I’m really sorry, you guys. I have to go in. It’s urgent or I wouldn’t do it.” Then just to me, “This was an important night for me. I’m so sorry, Sam.” He leaned over and kissed me.

I just nodded. Then, not wanting him to think I was angry with him, I said, “I love you.”

George looked surprised. Probably because I said it in front of Adam and Sarah. “I love you too.” He kissed me again and started to walk away. Then, in what I’ve come to love as his Columbo imitation, he turned back and said, “I’ll take care of paying for your meal on the way out. Please enjoy it. And, Sam, if I get done early enough I’ll call you tonight. Otherwise, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” With that he was gone.

My sigh was big enough to fill the whole restaurant.

“You love him?” Sarah asked.

“You said you love him,” said Adam at the same time.

“Yep.” They hadn’t heard me say this to a man since the divorce from their dad a few years back. I tore myself away from looking at the door George used to make his exit, and looked at them instead.

“Yeah, I do. And it surprised the hell out of me too.”

The well-dressed server came and took our order on an electronic tablet. Impressive. After the initial disappointment of George being gone, I relaxed and enjoyed the rest of the meal with my kids, at a restaurant we hadn’t been to before as a family.

When we were finished I realized that George had driven us in his car. The hostess came up to us when she noticed we were finished and asked if there was anything else we needed. I said, “Maybe you could call us a cab.” She nodded.

A few minutes later she said, “Your ride is here.”

We exited the restaurant and saw the town’s one and only limo service with a car waiting for us. It wasn’t a stretch limo, but a limo nonetheless. Flabbergasted, I turned back to tell the hostess there’d been a mistake. She couldn’t stop her smile. “Officer Lansing took care of this as he left.”

I shook my head to clear it. George thought of everything.

“C’mon kids. Let’s see how the other half lives.”

The limo driver, dressed in a black suit, with black tie and white shirt, and complete with the requisite hat, opened the door for us. I sank into the leather seat and missed George.

Not for long, though. The ride home was full of giggles. Maybe the drinks Adam and I had might have caused a few of the laughs, but I was as relaxed as I’d been in a long time. The limo driver wouldn’t accept a tip, and said it had already been taken care of.

We walked into the unlocked carriage house and were greeted by Clancy, who was definitely ready to go out. Adam said, “Take it easy, Mom. I’ll take her out. C’mon, girl.” Clancy bounded toward him and off they went.

Sarah took the opportunity of being alone with me to say, “You seem really happy with George.”

I gave her hug, and then said, “I am, honey. And I’m continually amazed that I hated the man for almost 25 years. I was stupid. Just stupid. Well, stupid and stubborn. He’s a great guy, and I’m lucky that he cares for me.”

“But you did seem to be upset with him on the way to restaurant.”

“I was,” I said, “but decided to let it go. The thing is, he always tries to get me to butt out of investigations that I have every right to be involved in.”

“Mom, you’re a social worker—”

“Not a cop! I know, I know. I’ve sure heard that a gazillion times. But I can’t help being curious. And while you were away at school I solved several murders.”

“Yeah, but you ended up in the hospital last time, and someone tried to kill you while you were there. I worry about you. A lot.”

I just hugged her again and let it drop. How could I explain to her the compulsion I felt to help out? My vibes led me in the right direction, at least most of the time, and I had to help.

Adam brought in a panting Clancy. “We ran around in circles for a little bit.” He hugged her, then she sidled over to Sarah for the same thing. For her next move, Clancy went to my bedroom door and stood, waiting for me to join her.

I hugged and kissed my kids, then did just that, following Clancy’s lead. Sarah hadn’t gotten a decent nap before going to work, but she said she’d drink a little caffeine and be okay.

Ah, the young.

That was the last coherent thought I had before waking up the next morning. It was a Sunday, so I planned to go to Mass and hoped the kids would go with me. As a lifelong Catholic, I had been feeling conflicted about how sleeping with George fit in with my faith. I hoped that getting back to weekly Mass would help me.

My cell phone rang as I was getting out of bed.

After my hello, I heard, “Sam, I need to talk to you. Right away.”

“Okay. Come on over.”

George sounded serious. Too serious.

I jumped up and put on a pair of jeans and a lightweight sweater. Sarah was still at work, and Adam had fallen asleep on the couch instead of going up to his room. I roused him, said I was expecting company, and asked if he’d go upstairs.

He mumbled something that sounded affirmative, and slowly walked to the stairs.

I quickly took Clancy outside for a potty break, and as I was going back in the house, George pulled up. I waited for him to get out of the car, and ran to him with a kiss and hug.

“Thank you so, so much for my birthday present,” I said, accentuating each “so” with a kiss.

He responded, but seemed distracted. “I’m glad you liked it, Sam. Can we go inside to talk?”

The immature part of me thought,
Omigod, is he breaking up with me?
I knew better than that, but there are times when I revert back to an unsure teenager.

Instead, I said, “What’s wrong?”

He guided me toward the door, and waited until we were inside before speaking. “Let’s sit down,” indicating the couch.

“What’s wrong?” I repeated.

His face told me he wanted to soften the blow, but he just said it.

“Richie was stabbed last night.”

SEVEN

I
couldn’t speak.

George held me as we sat on the couch. He handed me his handkerchief because my tears were flowing and I couldn’t seem to stop them. Finally, I hiccuped and it broke the tension.

“I’ll wash this,” I said as I showed George his wet handkerchief.

He nodded.

“‘I’ll wash this.’ What a stupid thing to say.” I pulled away enough to turn toward him. “Is Richie okay? He isn’t—”

“He’s alive. They texted me when we were at the restaurant to tell me that an injured man was found in the bushes on the side of the John Wood mansion. It was Richie. Sitting in the same place the other guy was found. Richie was bloody and unconscious—but breathing.”

I felt more tears on my cheeks. I gestured for George to go on as I used his handkerchief to catch them.

“We knew right away that the crime might be related to the stabbing you and Richie saw in the photo.”

“Was it? Was it related?”

George shook his head and said, “Probably. It would be too much of a coincidence to have two guys stabbed in the same location several hours apart. Richie is at least alive, lucky for him.”

“Omigod, I can’t believe it.” I fell back against the back of the couch. “I feel like a close friend was attacked, and I hardly knew him. Do you think he was stabbed because he took the picture?”

George answered, “Well, the killer could have seen Richie ride by on his bicycle, and maybe he saw him take the picture. We don’t know anything yet, except…”

“Except what?”

“Except Richie was wearing a bright blue hoodie when we found him, with a white T-shirt. Of course there was blood all over him.”

“He wasn’t wearing either of those things when we saw him yesterday. Can I see the hoodie? I can tell you if it was the same color the killer was wearing.”

He nodded. “I had to leave it at the station, of course, but I was hoping you could come down and take a look at it.”

“Yes. I want to. Can we go now?”

“Sure, hon.” He pushed my tear-wet hair behind my ears. “Are you sure you feel like it right now?”

I said, “Yes. I want to go now. The sooner I see it, the more likely I am to remember the exact color.” Then I thought of something else, “Can we visit Richie? Is he at Bay General?”

“That’s where he is, but the last time I checked he was still in the ER. I’ll check again in a little while.”

I left a note for Sarah, let Clancy go upstairs with Adam, and walked out of the house with George’s arm around my shoulder. I felt so bad for poor Richie. The only thing he was guilty of was annoying me by taking my picture, and he had the unfortunate bad luck to take a picture of a murder in progress. And for that he got himself stabbed.

We rode to the station in silence. George parked near the police vehicles in the staff parking lot. I sat there stunned until George opened my door for me. Even though he was in his job arena he still put his arm around me to walk me through the employee entrance into the station.

He checked out the hoodie from the evidence locker and as soon as I saw it I knew. “It’s the one,” I said.

“Wait. Wait just a minute,” George said as he walked me to an interview room.

As soon as we got inside and he’d closed the door, I said, “That’s it. It’s the one.” I took it and held it to my cheek, thinking of Richie. “It’s crazy that the killer wore a blue hoodie in the first stabbing and the victim wore a blue hoodie in the second stabbing.”

I looked up at George and said, “I forgot to ask you about the details of the attack. You said he was stabbed?”

George nodded. “Stabbed above the stomach, near the heart on the left side, same place as where you said the other guy was being stabbed in the picture. And there’s more. There are more than one person’s prints on it. Richie’s were on top. He said the murderer took his hands and made him push in the knife, maybe to make it look like suicide. Then he tried to pull it out, but couldn’t quite do it.”

“I don’t get it. Why compound the first murder with an attempted murder? We couldn’t see what the murderer looked like in the picture. And why didn’t Richie die? What was different about this attack?”

“First, he—or she for that matter—couldn’t have known whether his face showed in the picture or not. He probably felt it was safer to get rid of the photographer. But Richie didn’t have the picture on him. Which means that the guy is probably still looking for it. Second, I don’t know why Richie is still alive. I’m just grateful he is because we can interview him about the attack. He is being guarded by police, so he’s protected.”

“What are you going to do?”

He sat on the table right in front of me, and said, “You’re not going to like this, Sam, but we have to keep you in protective custody.”

I stood up and walked away. “No, you can’t do that. I have a life. I have kids. I have a job.”

He followed me and took my arm, gently but firmly. “Sam, I love you. But even if you were a total stranger I’d put you in protective custody. We don’t know; the guy might have seen Richie with you later. We just don’t know.”

“What does it mean—protective custody? Do I have to stay here? Can I stay at home with you watching me?”

He sat me down again, and I saw both love and worry on his face. “I’ll probably hate myself for saying this, but I think we can have police at your house, watching you. But this means you can’t leave; you have to stay there. Can you promise me this?”

I nodded, but then thought this deserved words. “Yes, I can promise.”

And at the time I meant it.

EIGHT

I
rode home with George in his car, and he said that my brother Rob would be on duty with him to begin with, as part of the protective team, and that someone else would take over at night. I nodded dumbly, unsure of what to say or even how to behave.

We arrived at my house in a few minutes. When I saw it the first thing that came to me was, “My kids. What about Adam? Sarah? Clancy?” I didn’t think my children would mind my putting Clancy in the same category as them.

He walked around his car and met me in front of it, “Adam and Sarah will have to stay elsewhere. But I think it would be okay for Clancy to stay.”

I smiled. “I definitely want the kids to be safe, and they can go somewhere else. But Clancy has saved my butt more than once; I feel better when she’s with me.”

George smiled too, “Guess she’s not just a therapy dog for your patients.”

I nudged him as we walked through the unlocked door. Clancy greeted us enthusiastically, and I told her to listen while George and I explained the situation to my kids and to my brother, who had already arrived. Clancy pulled back from me, almost like she knew I was going to say things she didn’t like.

I phoned Father Brother, the nickname for my priest brother, Pete. He had a few extra rooms in his place, and I asked if Adam and Sarah could stay there for a few days.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned evident in his voice.

“Don’t get excited, but a pal of mine was attacked and we don’t know if his attacker saw me with him or not.”

He raised his voice, “You say don’t get excited and then tell me this!”

“Calm down. You’re a priest.”

“I’m also your brother, dammit.”

“Pete, stop it. Priests don’t cuss.”

“Don’t try to change the subject. Tell me what’s up,” he demanded.

“I did. I was talking with someone, gave him a ride somewhere, later he ended up in the ER. We’re not sure if the murderer thinks I know something or not, so basically I’m in protective custody in my own house.”