Murder by Decay, Page 2

  “Yes. There’s a man … a dead man … in the chair. Police. Please … hurry.” The momentary respite passed and shock was setting in. Edna began to shake so badly she could hardly get the words out.

  “Is anyone else there with you?” the dispatcher asked.

  Edna hadn’t considered the murderer might still be in the office. Taking a steadying breath, she glanced around nervously, then rolled the chair to the side of the desk so the front door was to her right and the rest of the suite to her left. She didn’t want to sit with her back to the dark or the body.

  “Ma’am?” The prod reminded Edna that the dispatcher was waiting for an answer.

  “No,” Edna said, then hesitated, glancing right and left again before adding, “I don’t think so.”

  “Can you stay on the line?”

  “I was going to wait in my car.”

  “It will be best if you stay where you are until the officers arrive. Just stay on the line with me.” The dispatcher’s voice had softened to a friendlier tone.

  Edna imagined herself going out into the dimly lighted corridor and walking to the front of the building. Could someone be lurking in one of the other offices?

  “Are you okay?” The low, soothing voice brought Edna back to the reception desk where, on second thought, she decided to stay.

  “Yes,” Edna said. “I’m fine.” Her voice sounded stronger, even to her ears, and she realized that she did feel better talking to someone, even if that someone was on the other end of a phone line.

  “The patrol car should be arriving any minute now,” said the female.

  At that moment, Edna heard the wail of a siren and saw the flashing red and blue lights of the police vehicle penetrate windows and bounce off the walls. “Yes, they’re here.”

  “They know you’re in Doctor Jennings’ office. Just sit tight and the officers will be right with you.”

  Edna knew only a minute or two could have passed before a uniformed woman came cautiously into the reception room, but the wait seemed much longer. The woman looked awfully young. Her eyes focused on Edna as she extended her left hand along the wall. Seconds later, overhead fluorescent lights flickered on, and Edna blinked against the sudden brightness.

  “Miz Davies? I’m Rita Nicholas.” She took the handset from Edna’s grasp and spoke to the dispatcher before placing the receiver back onto its cradle. Her tone was crisp and clear. As she ended the call, a middle-aged male officer entered the office, nodded at Edna and introduced himself as Swen Reynolds. He was a large man, broad and dark, contrasting the woman’s slender frame and short blonde hair.

  “You reported a dead man?” He uttered the simple statement as a question.

  Hearing the words, Edna felt her stomach churn. For some reason, their police presence brought the possibility of danger closer to reality, and she shuddered. “Yes,” she said, adding, “He’s been killed.” Their skepticism was plain as the two officers exchanged a quick glance. She felt her cheeks and neck flush that they might think her the type of woman who enjoyed over-dramatizing situations, so she added as unemotionally as she could, “He’s taped to the chair and there’s a gas mask over his nose.”

  The look they swapped this time was decidedly more serious. “Don’t move and don’t say a word,” the patrolman warned.

  As if on an unspoken signal, the officers each drew a weapon and moved slowly toward the archway. As they did so, Edna heard a series of scuffing and skittering noises that caused her to remember the contents of her bag cluttering up the floor. She winced, wondering if any of her belongings might have broken or spilled, but didn’t care enough to leave her chair as she listened to the officers kicking objects out of their path on the way to the rear of the office.

  Once they were out of sight, Edna strained to hear the slightest sound. Minutes later, voices and the crackle of static from a radio came from the back, but she couldn’t make out words. She imagined the police reporting from beside the body and wished the man’s face hadn’t been so firmly implanted in her head.

  As she sat waiting for instructions, she wondered if Charlie Rogers were on duty and wished he would walk through the door. She and the young police detective first met when he was working on a case involving a burglary ring. Edna had found her friend Tuck on the floor of her house, the victim of the same men Charlie had been investigating. Not a day later, Edna herself became the prime suspect in the murder of her handyman and she’d gotten to know Charlie better than she’d wanted, at the time. Their association turned into a friendship, however, and Edna was delighted when he began dating Starling.

  Trying not to think about the corpse in the next room, Edna focused her mind on her daughter’s love affair with Boston. Starling was a photographer and half owner of an art gallery where she displayed the best of her pictures of the city and of historic sites around New England. Having heard nothing of wedding plans or even of an engagement, Edna was beginning to wonder if her daughter’s reluctance to leave Boston might be keeping the couple, both in their early thirties, from advancing their romance.

  When, at that moment, Charlie walked into the waiting room, Edna started. She stared blankly, puzzled and disoriented for a second or two, as if her thoughts had conjured up the shape of him with his brown curly hair and hazel eyes. Those very eyes now widened in surprise as he caught sight of her.

  “Edna? What are you doing here?” He reached her just as Officer Nicholas appeared in the archway.

  “Detective Rogers,” she began, but Charlie held up a hand, signaling for her to wait.

  “I was on my way home when dispatch sent out the code. Don’t tell me you’re the woman who found the body?” he said, bending over Edna with a frown of concern.

  She found she couldn’t speak over the lump that had formed in her throat, so she merely nodded. If Charlie gave her too much sympathy, she was going to burst into tears and embarrass them both.

  As if sensing her distress, Charlie said, “Okay. Stay here while I go see what’s what. Then, I’ll need you to tell me whatever you can.”

  He straightened, but had no time to step away before the office door opened again and Gordon Jennings walked in, followed by a young policeman who looked both harassed and frantic.

  “What’s happened here?” Gordon looked and sounded equally agitated as his gaze traveled anxiously around the room. An inch over six feet with an elderly man’s paunch and a mass of thick white hair, he was two inches taller and heavier than the young detective. “I was to meet a patient. Has she been hurt?” he said, a nanosecond before he caught sight of Edna.

  At the same instant, the young uniformed man was speaking to Charlie, “Sorry, sir, but …”

  “Never mind,” Charlie waved away the officer. “I’ll handle it. You can get back to your post.”

  “Are you alright?” Gordon rushed to Edna’s side, grabbing a straight-backed chair on his way. He sat beside her and reached for her hand. “Are you hurt?” The concern in his expression was almost enough to make her want to comfort him instead of the other way around as he continued to stammer. “I’m so sorry. I was held up. What happened to you?” When Edna didn’t answer immediately, Gordon turned and scowled at Officer Nicholas and then at Charlie, silently demanding an answer.

  “Doctor Jennings,” Charlie greeted, holding out a hand that Gordon seemed to take automatically. “Would you stay with Edna for a minute while I check in back. I’ll be with you shortly and tell you what I can.” He turned to Edna. “I’m going to have Officer Nicholas stay with you, too. Please don’t say anything about what you found.” At those words, Charlie turned and walked through the archway.

  As soon as he disappeared, Gordon turned back to Edna. Ignoring Charlie’s orders and the officer standing next to the desk, he said, “Edna, what’s going on? You haven’t been hurt, have you? What did he mean about you finding something?”

  She shook her head, sliding an apologetic look toward Officer Nicholas. “I’m fine, Gordon. Really. Thank y
ou for your concern, but I think it best if you let Charlie fill you in.”

  “This is my office. I have a right to know.” A note of irritation crept into his voice.

  As Edna drew breath to respond, the air hit her tooth. She groaned with the pain and raised a hand to her jaw. Immediately, the dentist became contrite and solicitous. “We’ve got to get you in the chair, so I can take care of that tooth.” He started to rise with a hand beneath Edna’s elbow while he explained to their guard. “She needs immediate attention.”

  The officer shook her head and was about to speak when Charlie reappeared. Before another word was spoken, he beckoned Gordon to follow him. Much to Edna’s relief, Charlie told her to stay where she was, and the feeling intensified when, seconds later, she heard an exclamation from Gordon. After that, she heard male voices with Gordon’s rising occasionally. Officer Nicholas stood sideways beneath the arch, apparently eavesdropping on the back-room conversation, but Edna herself couldn’t make out words.

  All at once, she felt she couldn’t remain in the room any longer. When she stood and moved toward the door, the policewoman spoke sharply. “Where are you going?”

  “Just outside this door. I won’t leave without speaking to Charlie, so you don’t need to babysit me.” Edna wasn’t about to stay put, and she didn’t want company. Feeling a little rebellious and flippant, she added, “He knows where I live.” That remark seemed to take the last of her reserve. Her breathing became labored, and she knew she had to get out of the office or collapse.

  Apparently, the woman saw Edna’s determination. “Okay. I’ll just let Detective Rogers know.” When the policewoman hurried toward the back room, Edna realized she had been anxious to be where the action was and, had the situation been less bleak, Edna probably would have smiled.

  As she stepped into the corridor, she spotted a man standing in front of the door to the periodontist’s office, down the hall. He was bent as if to open his door, but had half turned toward Gordon’s office. Obviously, the man was curious about all the activity. Through the glass-paneled front doors, the flashers atop the patrol cars cast the man’s face in pulsing blue and red hues. She noticed a key in his hand before the spinning lights made her head hurt. Backing against the wall, she shut her eyes.

  “Are you ill?” The man’s voice was a deep baritone, surprising for a man of his short stature and thin frame. He wasn’t much taller than Edna’s five feet, five inches. “Do you need help?”

  A thumping noise made Edna open her eyes. He was coming toward her, leaning heavily on a cane in his left hand. He looked to be in his early fifties with dark hair beginning to streak with gray, neatly combed, but needing a cut. His black overcoat was well-tailored and, in the dim light, looked to be cashmere.

  “I’m fine,” she said, realizing her shaky voice belied the words.

  He stopped three feet from her and inclined his head toward the door next to where she stood. “What’s with the police? Has Gordon been robbed?”

  Before she could answer, the door swung inward and Charlie burst out, stopping abruptly as he spotted her. “There you are. I thought you were going to wait in the office. I need to talk to you before you go home.”

  “I needed air,” she said, not bothering to explain further.

  He turned his gaze to the slightly stooped man. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

  Surprised at the question and wondering why she hadn’t thought of it herself, Edna looked back toward the double-wide doors where lights were still rotating red and blue in dizzying rapidity. The silhouette of a patrolman was visible through the glass. She hadn’t noticed him before. She assumed the man with the cane had just arrived, but maybe he’d been leaving and locking up when she came into the hall.

  The stranger glimpsed over his shoulder before turning back to Charlie. “Nobody was at the door when I got here.” He shrugged and the smile he gave made his gaunt features almost handsome.

  The all-too-innocent look on his face made Edna wonder if the man were being purposely vague about exactly when he’d entered the building, but she kept silent. Even if she’d been inclined to question the response, she was too weary to bother. What did it matter anyway? She tuned back in on the conversation.

  “I’m Pieter Resnik. Doctor Resnik. My office is there.” He motioned over his shoulder with the hand holding the key, but his eyes never left Charlie’s.

  The detective frowned, obviously annoyed. “Even if nobody was at the door, didn’t you see the police outside?”

  The doctor shrugged again as the smile disappeared. “Nobody stopped me.” When Charlie kept staring, Resnik added with a slight hint of annoyance, “I’m here to pick up some papers from my office. I hope you won’t arrest me for that.”

  Charlie glared for a few seconds longer before speaking. “We’re investigating a crime and I need you to leave the building. Please give your name to the officer at the door on your way out. We’ll want to know how to reach you.”

  Instead of complying, Resnik lifted his chin toward the office door. “What’s the crime? Has something happened to Gordon?”

  “He’s fine, Doctor Resnik,” Charlie replied in a more reasonable manner. Edna wondered if he had finally recognized the doctor’s presence as an innocent accident. “That’s all I can say at the moment, but I must insist you leave. We’re clearing the building. If you weren’t here earlier, we won’t detain you for questioning at this time, but we will need to speak to you later.”

  At that moment, the office door opened again and Gordon Jennings stepped out in the company of Officer Nicholas.

  “Pieter,” he greeted the small man with a touch of surprise. “Working late?”

  “Hello, Gordon. No. Just came by to get some papers. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing you need to be concerned with,” Charlie answered before Gordon could speak and extended an arm toward the front doors, palm up. “I must insist that you go now. You’ll hear all about it soon enough, I’m sure.”

  Glowering his displeasure, the small man turned and did as he was bid. Again leaning heavily on the cane, he limped away.

  Nobody spoke until Resnik left the building, surprising the patrolman on the front step who caught the door and held it open as the periodontist nodded and disappeared down the walk.

  “Friend of yours?” Charlie asked Gordon.

  The dentist shook his head. “More of a colleague than a friend, I’d say. Pieter’s a bit of a recluse.”

  Edna gasped as a sharp pain spiked across her jaw, drawing everyone’s attention.

  Gordon put out a hand to gently cup her cheek. “I forgot. We haven’t taken care of that tooth.”

  Charlie interrupted. “Can’t do it now, I’m afraid. Officer Reynolds will be in charge of the body until the forensic team arrives. Nobody will be allowed in the office until they’re finished.”

  Gordon looked apologetically at Edna. “I’ll phone Pieter and ask him to fit you in first thing in the morning. Think you can hang on ‘til then? Do you need a prescription for the pain?”

  “I’ll be okay,” Edna said, not certain if she would or not, but seeing no other alternative. “And, thanks, but no. Pain medications don’t seem to do anything more for me than plain old aspirin.” And even a couple of those probably won’t help much, she thought, feeling a lump of self-pity form in her throat. She was about to ask Gordon if he had any of the buffered kind, but Charlie spoke at that moment.

  “Sorry to hold you up, Rita. You can have him now,” he said, nodding at Officer Nicholas.

  Before escorting Gordon out of the building, the policewoman held Edna’s tote out with a sheepish expression. “I picked up your things. Thought you might need your keys and wallet, at least. I don’t think anything’s broken.”

  Edna thanked the woman for her kindness and waited until the two were out of earshot before turning on Charlie. “You’re not arresting Gordon, are you?” She felt her eyes widen with the surprise that chased away any thought
of asking for aspirin. “Surely you don’t think he had anything to do with this … this abomination,” she ended fiercely.

  The detective raised his eyebrows as if her question were absurd. “Don’t worry. He’s only going to the station to make a statement and give us his fingerprints. We’ll need a statement from you, too, but I think an interview can wait until after your next dental appointment.” He took her arm and gently turned her toward the building’s entrance. “Come. I’ll drive you home.”

  She pulled her arm from his grasp, resisting the urge to be coddled. “You’re needed here, Charlie. I’m quite able to drive myself.”

  Charlie accepted her decision, but insisted on escorting her out of the building. The young uniformed man at the front door obviously wanted to speak to the detective, so Edna said good night to them both and walked to her car. Thankfully, the flashing lights on the patrol cars had been turned off, she thought as she started her car. She backed out of the parking spot and was headed to the lot’s exit when she glanced briefly into her rear view mirror and saw that the green Honda was gone.

  Chapter 3

  The closer Edna got to her neighborhood, the slower she drove. With a slight subsiding of the ache in her mouth, her head filled with images of the evening that kept replaying like a never-ending film clip. Between the excruciating agony she knew would return to her jaw and the horrifying picture of a dead man, she was in for another restless night, if she got any sleep at all. With those thoughts weighing on her mind, she was relieved to see lights on in Mary Osbourne’s kitchen. Instead of heading for her own driveway, Edna pulled in and parked beside her neighbor’s Jeep.

  As had become the custom when finding the back door unlocked, she let herself in, calling “Hullo.” Immediately, she was greeted in turn by Mary’s black Labrador Hank and his feline companion Spot. The black cat’s official name was Ink Spot because of his coloring, but he went by his nickname which Starling, with tongue in cheek, insisted must be psychologically damaging. Not only was it a canine moniker, but the cat had neither dots nor a single white hair.