1 Who Killed My Boss? (15 page)

That reminded me of Carolyn Burns. I was more convinced than ever that she killed Dr. Burns. Unfortunately, my “vibes” wouldn’t stand up in court, and I really didn’t want to talk about my instincts publicly. It was bad enough that some of my sibs knew. They’d stopped teasing me about it years ago, but most weren’t comfortable talking about my gift/curse. Now Michael knew and soon others would find out. This could prove to be embarrassing.

I just had to find some hard evidence.

As I went through the private door from my office to the kitchen, I noticed the closed door on the other side of that large room. It led to Burns’ office, which was still off limits to us. “The investigation is ongoing,” the press release stated. It was posted all over the office so I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know.

Since my office connected to the kitchen and the kitchen connected to the scene of the crime, I could slip into Burns’ office without anyone knowing. And I wouldn’t even feel guilty about it.

I tiptoed across the kitchen. Maybe I wasn’t going to feel guilty but I still needed to be discreet.

The door was closed. I crossed my fingers and gently turned the knob. That was impossible to do with my fingers crossed. I uncrossed my fingers and quietly opened the door a few inches and peeked inside. No one there. And the door leading from his office to the hallway was closed.

Before anyone could come into the kitchen and interrupt my sleuthing, I moved quickly into Burns’ office and closed the door. The room looked just as it had the last time I was in it, with two notable exceptions. First, there was no dead body on the floor. Second, standing in the corner, rifling through a file cabinet, was none other than Carolyn Burns.

Intent on her evil deeds, she didn’t notice me until I spoke.

“So, Carolyn. It’s curtains for you.”

“I beg your pardon.” Even though I caught her in the act, she did a great job of making me feel inept and in the wrong.

“It’s curtains for you. You’re up a creek without a paddle. You’re S.O.L. You know. You returned to the scene of the crime. I caught you.”

“Ms. Darling, even though you are speaking in clichés, I have no idea what you are talking about. I have every right to be in my husband’s office.”

“Not when there’s masking tape or scotch tape or something barring the door.”

“I wondered if you’d noticed that, Ms. Darling. So what are you doing here?”

Okay, she had me there. “That’s none of your concern. There was no tape over the door I used and besides, I just caught you snooping through those confidential files.”

This all fit. Burns had hired Michael because someone had been going through his files. I now knew who that someone was. Finally, I was getting the much-needed evidence and the noose was tightening around Carolyn’s neck. Well, maybe that was a little melodramatic, but it expressed my sentiments succinctly.

“I was looking for some insurance papers and I notified the new receptionist that I was doing so. Any other questions?” She looked so smug and self-righteous that I wanted to smack her. That would certainly wipe the grin off her face.

“You’re looking for insurance papers in the patient file drawer?” Aha, I had her now.

“Oh, no wonder I couldn’t find them. I thought this file cabinet was where my husband kept his personal files.” How she managed to look so innocent was beyond me.

“All right, Carolyn. I’ll check with Mrs. Schmitt in just a moment. In the meantime, I’ll notify Officer Darling that you are here.”

She merely raised an eyebrow. I guess my brother Rob wasn’t enough of a threat.

“And I will also notify Detective Lansing.”

“There’s no need to do that, Ms. Darling.” I found the lever that could move her. “I was just leaving and you can see that I have nothing in my hands.”

She had a big purse however. “I’m sorry, Carolyn, but I feel obligated to tell the authorities. I’m sure you understand.”

“Why must you do that?” Then she did what many heroines in her books did when they got upset. She sat down and cried. That was the only part of her characterizations I didn’t like. It was hard admitting that everything else about her books intrigued me. In fact, they seemed familiar to me and contained good descriptions of people’s neuroses and psychoses.

I continued the conversation while slowly advancing toward her. “I already told you when I was at your house. I know you killed your husband. And I also know you had help.”

“It’s not true.” She paused and looked up at me. “How do you know all that?”

It was time for me to sing the same song again. “I just know.” I didn’t want to tell her how I knew and I also didn’t want to tell her that I knew she was too prissy to actually stick the scalpel in his neck.

“Just like you know Gwen Schneider didn’t do it?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“You’re not the only one Michael talks to.” Her smile made me want to pass out. That was just a figure of speech. Oddly enough, this time I didn’t feel faint around her. Maybe my anger helped control my dizziness.

For good measure I threw in, “And you cut the gas line in my house and the brake line in my car.”

“We did not cut the brake line in your car. That’s ludicrous.”

I pounced. “You said ‘we.’”

She turned away. “I meant ‘I.’”

I took another step toward her. “So you admit you tampered with the gas line in my home.”

She sighed as she faced me again. “That is so patently ridiculous it doesn’t even deserve comment.”

“Well, you have fingerprint powder all over your nice black suit.” I guess I showed her. I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue and go “nyah-nyah-nyah.”

She wiped at the grayish-white powder. Her fingers beat a staccato tattoo on her thighs. She accompanied the beat with “ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh.” What a priss.

She was fastidious all right. I wondered if she was around when the blood started spurting from her husband’s neck like a full-speed-ahead garden hose. How did she handle that?

As I thought about that gory detail, the door from the hallway opened and a familiar voice announced his presence, “Hi ya, Sam. Mrs. Burns.”

“George, I was just about to call you. Carolyn is in here without permission.” Oh my God. I’d turned into the very person I despised—a tattletale. This was gross. “And she’s going through the file cabinets. Make her stop.” I was talking and I couldn’t shut up.

George looked quizzically at me, then shook his head as if to clear it of my face. “Mrs. Burns, I’ve been looking for you. Saw your car outside. Will you please accompany me to the station so we can talk?”

“Does she need a lawyer? Are you going to read her her rights?” I was as excited as a girl on her first date.

He didn’t spare a glance in my direction. He was good at this.

“Of course, Officer Lansing. I’ll be happy to oblige. Will I need to notify my attorney?”

“We just want to talk. You aren’t under arrest. Of course, if you want to have your attorney present, you may. By the way, I understood that O’Dear was providing security service for you. Where is he?”

“Waiting at my home, I presume. I needed some, um, private time, so I left by a side door. These insurance papers are very important to me and I felt I couldn’t wait until you declared this area open again. I’m certainly sorry if I broke any rules.”

I didn’t buy what she was selling. Like I thought she was really sorry. I understood her quite well and predicted that the next thing she would do was bat her eyes.

Gosh almighty, if she didn’t. She batted her eyes at George, and I could tell he liked it. The scum-sucking dog.

“Mrs. Burns, we’ll talk about what you’re doing here later. For now, let’s go to the station. I have some other questions for you.”

Carolyn gathered her belongings and wiggled out the door.

I couldn’t resist one last jab at her. “Look in her purse. Bet she’s got something in there that she shouldn’t have.”

“Bye, Sam. See ya tonight.”

Oh, yeah, tonight. I’d almost forgotten. A dinner with George. I hesitated to call it a dinner date, because it wasn’t a date, not a real one. He’d had his chance at a date with me back in the 70’s. And he blew it. Big time. One strike and you are out, George Lansing.

He poked his balding head back through the door. “And, Sam. Please leave this room. Now. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t return until we’ve cleared it. Got that?”

“I understand.” I understood, but that didn’t mean I was going to do what he said.

As he slithered out the hall door, I exited through the kitchen and snagged a cup of coffee on the way to my office.

I sat in my chair, plopped my feet on the desk, and wrapped both hands around the mug. There’s something comforting about the warmth of a mug of coffee. So why didn’t I feel comforted?

Why didn’t anyone believe me about Carolyn Burns? At least Michael claimed he wanted to believe me. That was a giant leap ahead of George, who just looked at me with that condescending grin of his and sloughed me off as if I were a child. I wondered if my brother Rob had any other information about the case. I also wondered if he would share it with me.

A quick call to the Quincy Police Department told me that Rob was out on patrol. I didn’t leave a message.

I took a big swig of the dark rich brew. My next step needed careful planning. Would there be any value in checking Burns’ files? Would I know if something were missing?

I wished I could figure out who was in on this with Carolyn. The only people I was sure were innocent were Gwen and Charlie Schneider. Everyone else was up for grabs.

And why did Burns tell Michael he wasn’t concerned about the patient files being out of order? Did he think it was the result of carelessness? Or was it something more sinister; was Burns himself involved?

There was something else niggling at my brain. Every time it tried to surface I pushed it back down. I didn’t want to think about it. But these few minutes alone were all it needed to rear its ugly head.

Michael. Dear, sweet, handsome, nice butt, Michael. Would I care to examine that I got dizzy almost every time I was around him? Would I care to compare faintness with the times that I was around Carolyn? Both felt the same. The loss of balance was certainly the same.

The first time I had seen Carolyn was at her house on the day after her husband was murdered. She and Michael were talking together. And I felt dizzy. They both touched me and I passed out. As I was getting up from the chaise lounge, they both touched me again. Dizziness again. That had to be a coincidence. Michael and Carolyn were not accomplices in murder. I was sure of that.

Devil Sam: “Just a coincidence. Michael had nothing to do with the murder.”

Angel Sam: “You’ve been dizzy more around Michael than you’ve ever been around Carolyn. At least look at the possibility that he’s involved.”

Devil Sam: “Don’t bother. He’s much too cute to have murdered anyone. Besides it’s been more years than you care to remember since you have…‌you know…‌had sex.”

I had to stop those schizophrenic meanderings. Anyway, Devil Sam must not be too good at what she does if she has such a hard time talking about sex. I didn’t think I was the type of morally bankrupt person who would let the possibility of getting laid get in the way of justice.

To distract myself, I decided to catch up on reading some of my professional journals and quit thinking about the case. A boring, but necessary, part of being a therapist is keeping up with the latest research. I couldn’t say how much time passed before I heard someone knock hesitantly on the door and open it just a crack.

I looked up to see two well-matched heads peeking around the doorframe. “Gwen. Charlie. Come on in. When did they spring you?” I couldn’t believe what I heard myself saying. I sounded like a cop.

“Hi Sam,” Gwen said. “They had a preliminary hearing this morning and the judge didn’t find enough evidence to bind me over for trial.”

She motioned her brother to come into the room so she could close the door. “Officer Lansing couldn’t hear everything from the other room — he only heard part of what I said to you. And since you’re a therapist, bound by confidentiality, my lawyer made a good case for them not pressing charges against me. He said I could still be picked up again, but I’m free for now.”

“Good for you. That serves Officer Lansing right. Eavesdropping is a nasty habit.” Surprisingly enough, I was able to say that with a straight face. I was sure glad I didn’t have to testify. It would have sounded nuts for me to say that Gwen was innocent because she didn’t “feel” guilty.

“I just came by to get my stuff. Under the circumstances, I figured that I shouldn’t be working here. Anyway, I thought I’d leave before they fired me.” The sniffling began again. Luckily Brother Charlie was quick with a handkerchief.

I thought this was an opportune time to get the skinny on Gwen’s relationship with Burns. “Charlie, would you mind sitting in the waiting room for a little while? I’d like to talk to your sister privately.”

He exited without objection. His hangdog expression left a pall in the room as he walked out.

“Why did you confess to me?” I wasn’t going to forget to ask this again.

She seemed surprised by my question. “I don’t know. I think I was in shock. It was really stupid to say it. Now you and Charlie are the only ones who believe I’m innocent.”

I decided to continue the direct approach. “Is it true you were having an affair with Dr. Burns?”

Niagara Falls began. “Yes,” snort, slobber, “but he broke it off with me about a month before he died.”

Gwen had a real talent for shutting those waterworks on and off. I held my suspicions at bay but knew that she wasn’t being entirely straight with me.

“Gwen, is there anything I can do to help you now?” I reached out and put my hand on her arm. No dizziness on my part.

“No, I’ve got to sort it out by myself. But…” she looked at the connecting door to the kitchen.

“Is something else bothering you?”

She said, “No,” but her eyes kept straying to the door.

I got up and checked, pulling the door toward me. The kitchen was empty. “Nobody there this time.”