Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 03 - The Recorder's Way (11 page)

“Befo
re you go,” Captain Tedler said, “Who are the other two doctors?”

“Show him the files, Max,” Helen said. “I’m going to
call Sister James Marine. She wants to help with Marilyn. Dad will drive us to the airport.”

Captain
Tedler was rummaging in his desk. Max told Helen to wait a moment. He watched as Captain Tedler presented her with a deputy’s badge.

“You’re right. I personally miss Sally.” Captain
Tedler shook her hand. “This badge will help you get clearance to question Marilyn. I know your father’s taught you enough about police procedures not to mess up any case against the girl.”

Max felt his chest expand with pride. This was his partner. Nice to know someone else appreciated her as a first-rate detective. But, he wasn’t going to kiss her goodbye in front of Captain
Tedler. Too risky, even in private, now.

“Helen interview
Sharon with me,” Max said. “Then we’ll make a threesome attack on Marilyn Helms in Cape May after we nail down a few more facts about the deaths.”

Helen held out her hand to Captain
Tedler. “Max needs a badge too.”

♦
♦
♦
♦
♦

Second Monday in May
, 2008

Ann Arbor Police Station

Captain Tedler ordered lunch, which arrived simultaneously with Sharon Daley from St. Anthony’s Hospital. Max offered to talk to the young woman. Captain Tedler sized him up. “Yep, girls go for you big guys.”

Helen played with her salad, not meeting Max’s glance.

“You just want your lunch.” Max slapped a bit of hot mustard on his roast beef on rye and took a bite, before walking into the interrogation room. Sharon was one of those hefty women who didn’t attract many men. Her perfume was innocent enough, lilac. Max got right to the point, so she wouldn’t miss too many work hours. “Do you know where Marilyn Helms might be staying in Cape May?”

“Yes. I visited her grandmother with her in
Cape May.” Sharon scratched the back of her head. “She lives in a purple Victorian bed-and-breakfast facing the ocean.”

“Address?”

“No. Sorry.”

Max nodded at the two-way mirror. He knew Captain
Tedler or Helen would be relaying Marilyn’s position to the Cape May police. “Were you aware that Marilyn was blackmailing three doctors?”

Sharon
clicked her tongue. “Will I get in trouble for not going to the police?”

“Not if you tell us everything you know.” Max wasn’t sure she couldn’t be prosecuted, but he needed information.

“Not directly through Marilyn, but a waitress at the City Club knows a woman who doesn’t like one of the doctors involved.”

“Which doctor is that?”

“Dr. Dorothy Whidbey.”

“Charley Klondike’s doctor.” Max remembered the file. “What is the woman’s name who’s not keen on Dr. Whidbey?”

“Mary Livingston. She knows about Charley’s death, too. Hepatic coma. Marilyn and I thought he was sleeping after the D.T.’s. He looked exhausted; his hands slumped down to his sides. I learned too late the hands were the clue. He was very near death. I doubt that Dr. Whidbey would have bothered to visit him anyway.”

“And the other doctors?”

“Larry Schneider’s.” Sharon clutched her purse to her chest. “That would be Dr. Handler. He’s a tricky one. I doubt you’ll be able to pin anything on him.”

“And one died?”

“Dr. Cornell. Jean Bacon’s doctor. I don’t know why he paid Marilyn. Diabetes is a tricky business. I wonder if her file still includes the notes I made about how the disease was slowly eating away her fat. She deflated while we watched. Jean probably couldn’t have been saved if Dr. Cornell had lived at her bedside.” Sharon brushed dandruff from her sweater.

“Three died in one night?” Max asked to make sure he had gleaned all the details from the nurse.

“Marilyn went a little mad, I think.” Sharon choked up. “Can I go home now?”

“Let me check.” Max stood. “You have been very helpful.”

“I can see why Helen Costello chose you for her partner.”

Max placed his hand on the doorknob
, grinned at the mirror, where he hoped Helen was smiling back.

“She’s a lucky girl.”
Sharon said.

“Thanks.” Max flashed his rehearsed smile before leaving. As Max walked down the hall from the witness room, he wondered if he should explain his relationship with Helen Costello to Captain
Tedler. What could the Captain say in response? Max barely understood his feelings for his partner, didn’t know if he could find the right words to express them to Captain Tedler. He wasn’t in love, was he?

“He rained flesh upon them as dust, and feathered fowls like the sand of the sea: And he let it fall in the midst of their camp, round about their habitation. So they did eat, and were well filled. For he gave them their own desire: They were not estranged from their lust…” Psalm 78:27-30

Second Tuesday in May
, 2008

Cape
May

Chatting with Sister James Marine
and Max made Helen’s trip from the Newark airport to Cape May almost enjoyable, even in the rain. She relaxed in the passenger’s seat as Max drove down the long, forested peninsula. The proud trees had watched more than one President of the United States pass by their shadows. Cape May was the Camp David for presidents for over a century. Towards the east were glimpses of the ocean’s whitecaps while the calm bay on the west side of the car could be seen through breaks in the tree line, where brave homeowners settled to enjoy and to weather the elements. Helen was seduced into a momentary state of denial.

In the back seat,
Sister read Helen’s mind. “Hard to believe we’re in this beautiful landscape to find out why someone killed Sally Bianco.”

As
they reached the beach highway, Helen said she preferred the Victorian, bed-and-breakfast houses to the more modern establishments. “The decorating colors probably help travelers find their accommodations.” Transported to an earlier time, Helen hit her automatic window button. May birds she couldn’t name were singing along with the seagulls. When Max opened the driver’s window, she could hear the waves on the black outcroppings of rock between the long stretches of beach.

Max
slowed the car. “Try imagining riding in a horse-drawn carriage.”

“I know
an old story about the father of a sick woman,” Sister said. “He carpeted the cobblestone street outside their home with bales of hay. The hay softened the sounds of buggy wheels.”

“My
father would have been such a man,” Helen said. “I still live at home.”

“They will
understand your need to prove yourself,” Max said, “when you move out.”

“Do you think we can trap
Marilyn Helms into confessing the murder?” Helen asked.

“I think
…,” Sister said. “We can convince Marilyn she would be doing herself more harm by
not
cooperating.”

Helen returned to the previous subject. “I do want to
live alone, for a while.”

“Before you marry?” Sister asked.

Max coughed.

Helen
had been tempted to add, ‘even if Max is in love with me.’ Instead, she chose a less emotional subject. “These Victorian houses remind me of my favorite doll houses.”

“How many do you own?
The sisters, who went upstairs at your mother’s after the funeral, mentioned seeing quite a few.”

“
Twenty-five,” Max said.

Helen didn’t hear any disapproval in Max’s voice
. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with all of them, when I finally move into my own place.”

Sister
tapped Helen’s shoulder. “I’d love to see them. We, the sisters, I mean are all a little childish.”

“I have enough to give each of them two.” Helen laughed.

“One a piece would be great. Good therapy for their homesickness. Actually just to decorate their rooms.”

“You do
live rather like Spartans.” Max laughed. “I can’t think of a better home for the collection.”

“Maybe some of the abuse shelters would like a few
,” Sister said. “The doll houses might relieve the sisters’ thwarted nesting instincts.”

“I’ll keep my favorite
Victorian one. It has those long windows and high ceilings. Modern homes have two-story ceilings in the entrance way.”

Max
said, “I need head room in every room.”

Sister laughed. “You
will require higher ceilings like the ones in these old-fashioned houses.”

“My studio ceilings are two-stories high.” Max smiled at Helen.

She recognized she was making premature statements. “I need to focus on the goals of our trip to the ocean.”

“Grim business, murder
,” Max said.

On the beach highway
near a curve in the highway, Helen pointed to a low sign, “Police.” Max turned the rental car at the street, leading them away from God’s beauty. As if in the thrall of their trip back in time, the station-house doorway sported twin antique glass globes lighting the black letters of the word, ‘Police’ atop each column.

Max
parked behind the building. The gray day and the old walls of the station finally worked their depressing enchantment on Helen’s spirits. “I half expect one of the shuttered windows to be opened with the bonneted old witch yelling, ’Peter Grimes, Peter Grimes.’”

Max
stepped out of the car. “In the opera, wasn’t the murderer hounded into killing an innocent boy?” Max held his umbrella over the two women.

Helen loved being close enough to smell his Irish Spring soap.
“I wonder,” she said, “if Mrs. Bianco inadvertently forced a dangerous person, a drug addict like Marilyn, to kill her.”

Sister nodded. “…
if only to gain her freedom.”

“I left the lights on
.” Max announced handing the umbrella to Helen and racing back to the car.

Watching him
run back to the car, another chilling thought crossed Helen’s mind: Huge Max Hunt and his impenetrable hide would never belong to her. She whispered to Sister, “Max will never be mine. I’m too immature.”

“He does seem
too wily to be caught easily.”

Helen
wanted to be loved above anyone else by him, to be admired by him, even to be esteemed. “It’s hopeless. What do I have to offer a man of his experience?

“Innocence,” Sister whispered back
and Helen believed her.

The back door of the station opened and a woman officer called to
them, “Helen Costello?” Helen didn’t respond quickly enough and the policewoman repeated, “Helen Costello?”

A little shocked at the similarity to her previous thoughts
about the Peter Grimes opera, Helen raised an arm in reply. “I’m here.”

“Come in before you drown. I’m
Orange Creeper. Officer Creeper to you all.”

“Officer,”
Max said.

Helen dared not ask the origin of her name, as
they were ushered into the station’s back door. She introduced her companions as the Mother Superior of the convent where Marilyn Helms was last seen and her partner and fellow deputy, Max Hunt.

However, as
Helen climbed the ancient steps to the officer’s second floor room, she prayed silently to herself about an entirely different matter. She asked God to find her a good man if Max was wrong for her. ‘Lord. One I can love with all my heart, with confidence and trust in your will.’

Officer Creeper wore a white military-looking uniform.
Helen hoped her own black suit and turtleneck appeared professional enough. Sister wrinkled her nose as if she noticed the smell of tobacco, too. Did it come from the entrance hall, or was Officer Creeper addicted to smoking?

♦
♦
♦
♦
♦

Max,
Helen and Sister searched for Marilyn’s grandmother’s house among the line of houses facing the Atlantic Ocean.

Max
pointed. “There is only one house painted purple.”

Hel
en called Officer Creeper on her cell phone. They waited patiently for the police to arrive and take Marilyn Helms into custody. Then, they followed the squad car back to the police station. After speaking to Captain Tedler in Ann Arbor, Officer Creeper allowed the newly sworn deputies to question Marilyn with some reservations. “I don’t know enough about the case to ask pertinent questions.”

Sister patted
Helen’s shoulder. “If you need me, pull your left ear lobe and I’ll knock on the door.”

In the
small interrogation room, Marilyn Helm’s belligerence surprised Max. The woman was a head taller and maybe three times Helen’s girth. Helen set her briefcase next to her chair and opened the clasp in case she needed swift access to her weapon. Max didn’t carry a gun.

“I don’t understand why you upset my poor grandmother.” Marilyn tapped her chubby fingers on the steel tabletop. “Has my lawyer arrived?”

Max unbuttoned his suit jacket in the warm Cape May questioning room. “Should we wait for your lawyer?” He tried to appear relaxed, able to wait until doomsday.

Marilyn squirmed.
Her stomach growled in the silent room. “Could I answer something and go home?”

Helen switched on the taping machine.
“Why are your fingerprints on Sally Bianco’s car?”

“They’re not.” Marilyn seemed too sure of that.

“Did you remember to wipe off the gear shift when you ditched Sally’s Honda in the ocean?” Max noted Marilyn’s eyes flicked from the incriminating oversight.

Marilyn
rubbed her wrists as if the handcuffs were just removed or awaiting her. “Could I have something to drink? I was in the middle of lunch, when the police
arrested
me. Are you at least going to tell me the charges?”

“
Murder.” Helen said and waited for the word to sink into the woman’s massive bulk.

“I haven’t killed anyone. I only blackmailed three criminals. I’m a nurse. We help people, not kill them. We’re not doctors.
Sally Bianco said they were culpable. Sharon Daley will tell you; we did everything we could for those patients.” Marilyn started to cry.

Max
wondered if he misjudged the tears. Were they contrite? The water jettisoned out of Marilyn’s besieged brain could be caused by anger and frustration at being discovered. “We found your dog,” Max said, asking God’s forgiveness for being cruel.

“
What makes you think he’s my dog?”

“He was with you at the convent.
” Helen said. “Mother Superior is waiting outside, if you want to talk to her about Rufus.”

Suddenly, Marilyn stood, knocking her chair to the floor as she lunged across the table at Helen.
Helen felt Marilyn’s fist graze her curls as she ducked to retrieve her gun. She stuck the gun between Marilyn’s eyes. “Sit back down or I’ll blow your head off.” Marilyn’s right fist slammed into Helen’s left ear. Helen fell sideways off her chair. She fired her gun away from Marilyn and Max’s general direction. “Stop!”

“Shoot me!” Marilyn shouted, looming over Helen’s sprawled body. “You chicken-shit!”

Blows rained down on Helen, who tucked her arms and her loaded gun over her face. Max grabbed Marilyn from behind, lifting her off the floor.

Marilyn kicked
a chair over on top of Helen. “Shoot me. Put me out of my misery!”

Through increasing consciousness of pain and real fear,
Helen heard the room’s door open. Officer Creeper struck Marilyn’s head with her nightstick. Max let go of the woman and Marilyn fell like a giant tree.

Sister James Marine assisted Helen to the chair she had righted. “Are you seriously hurt? Bleeding?”

“My ribs,” Helen couldn’t help but moan.

“
Call an ambulance!” Max shouted. Then he whispered as he stroked Helen’s forehead. “We’ll check you out at the hospital.”

“Let me put my gun away,” Helen said
, but fainted as she dropped the gun back into her briefcase.

♦
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♦
♦
♦

Second
Wednesday in May, 2008

Ann Arbor Police Station

Max turned toward Captain Tedler’s open office door a moment before Helen entered. He wondered if he had smelled her perfume, what alerted him to her presence. She stood at the threshold, hands on her hips.

“Say hello to Captain
Tedler.” Max couldn’t help teasing.

H
is mood lightened with the sight of her. Helen’s navy blue suit was trimmed with light blue piping along the lapels. Fluorescent rainbows danced off her blonde curls. She could have been wearing sackcloth as far as Max was concerned. He thanked God his partner, his friend, had
not
been seriously injured in Cape May.

Captain
Tedler offered Helen a paper cup of coffee. “We searched Dr. Cornell’s house. I read his diary. Dr. Cornell’s son is here to tell us what he knows of Marilyn’s blackmailing scheme.”

“Hi, Max.” Helen’s
genuine smile warmed Max’s heart, more than it should have. Max had noticed for the first time that Helen wrinkled her nose before smiling, as if she might sneeze.

“
Could we talk to him?” Her face turned serious. “Sister stayed in Cape May, in case we need more answers from Marilyn.”