An Appointment With Murder (2 page)

“How are you, Sarah?”

“I’ve been better,” I replied.

“I was just going into the massage room when I heard a commotion in the reception area,” he began, pausing to ensure that what he was telling me was registering. “I called to you, and when you didn’t answer, came back out to see what was going on. I saw someone running out the front door and you on the floor. I grabbed the phone and called 911.”

The knot of questions forming in my brain aggravated the pain of the contusion. Nothing was making sense.

“I came out here to tell Beth something,” I interjected, and pointed to the chair in which I had seen her inert body what seemed only moments before. The questions came out in rapid succession. “Have they taken her to the hospital? Is she going to be all right?”

His look told me otherwise. He lowered and shook his head.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I said weakly, tears welling up in my eyes.

“Shouldn’t you call your family?” Jeff inquired gently, extending a hand to help me to my feet.

“I suppose I should,” I choked, wiping my eyes.

Jeff stood close and took my arm. “Are you steady?” he asked, as if afraid to let me go. I nodded and looked down at my legs, willing them to keep me up. The sour taste in my mouth giving way to waves of nausea, I took advantage of his steadying presence while I drew a few deep breaths.

“Jeff, you probably saved my life tonight,” I said, touching his arm. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you doesn’t seem to be enough.” I forced a weak smile.

“Actually, I feel like this might be partly my fault,” he replied, looking away.

“I don’t understand.”

“You were both here late because of me. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if . . . .” His voice trailed off. He lowered his head and shut his eyes.

“Not your fault, Jeff,” I reassured him. “You can’t take any blame for this, okay?” I patted his arm.

He nodded without looking up at me.

“I guess I better get my things together,” he said, and made his way down the hall.

Two crime scene investigators were doing what crime scene investigators do, dusting for prints and collecting whatever evidence there was to collect, I imagined.

A man with thinning, sandy brown hair walked towards me clutching a black kit in one hand. The other held up a badge for my inspection.

“Ma’am,” he said, nodding, and, judging I’d had enough time to validate his credentials, lowered the badge. “I’m Detective Flynn. Bridgeport Police Department. Do you feel well enough to talk about the events of this evening?” His tone was officious, but not without compassion.

“Yes,” I said numbly.

I accompanied him to the adjoining waiting room and we sat at a table. I held the ice pack against the back of my head and he placed his black bag on the table in front of him.

“I spoke with your client, Mr. Gardner, and have his statement,” he said, opening a notebook he’d retrieved from the bag. “Can you tell me everything you remember?”

I paused, struggling to stabilize my breathing. “Okay. I walked into the reception room to tell Beth something and saw her slumped in the chair over there.” I pointed to the chair. “It sounds silly, I know, but I thought she was joking around with me. I was about to take her pulse when someone must have come up behind me. I didn’t see who.” I closed my eyes and pressed my free palm to my forehead trying to remember . . . anything.

“It’s okay, Sarah, take your time.” The detective spoke evenly, his pen moving over a page in the notebook.

“I just don’t understand why anyone would want to hurt Beth.” I wiped my eyes again, felt anger building in my chest.

“What can you tell me about Beth?”

“She’s been working here for about six weeks. She was supposed to get married next month. To Jacob.” I tried to recall her fiancé’s last name. “Moore. Jacob Moore, I’m pretty sure.”

Detective Flynn duly recorded the name in the notebook. “What was Beth doing just before the incident?” he asked without looking up.

“Well, she was getting ready to leave. I think she was talking to Jacob on her cell phone, letting him know she was on her way home. I had gone down the hall to talk with Jeff.” The scene in the shower intruded on my thoughts. “I didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary,” I said, shaking my head.

“I’ll need a list of the clients you’ve seen over the past few days,” Detective Flynn advised me, then asked: “Does anyone else work here besides you and Beth?”

“Gabby Olson. Another massage therapist. She uses the room next to mine, but she didn’t work today.”

“Did Beth ever mention enemies? Anyone she had any sort of conflict with?”

“No. Nothing like that. Ever.”

“Did she have problems with gambling?”

“What? No. Not that I’m aware of.”

“Do you think one of your clients could have been stalking her?”

“One of my clients?” I repeated incredulously, my finger involuntarily curling around to point at my chest. “You think one of
my
clients killed her?”

“I have to explore all the angles. The more information we have, the better.” His tone was apologetic.

“Look, I really didn’t know Beth that well. She was my receptionist, not my best friend.”

“I understand,” he said, nodding. “I suppose we can wrap this up. You must be exhausted.”

“How . . . how was she killed?” I asked.

“It appears that she was strangled. We’ll be able to say definitively when we have the autopsy report.” He closed the notebook.

Strangled?

“Oh, one more thing, Sarah. We didn’t find a cell phone, among Beth’s belongings or anywhere in the office. Are you sure she made the call to her fiancé from her cell, or could she have made it from the office phone?”

“She showed me a picture of her wedding dress on the cell. I’m sure she had it. It was a cute little pink thing. Something a teenager might have. Beth loved pink. She was kind of a girly-girl,” I said, the fact that there would be no wedding suddenly a stark, lamentable reality.

“It wasn’t among her belongings. We checked her purse, the desk, the closet, and her coat. You didn’t move it by chance, did you?”

I looked for a clue to his thoughts, but his face was blank. “No, I didn’t touch it.”

“All right. Thank you, Sarah. I appreciate your help.” He absently clicked his pen a few times, smiled, and slowly rose.

“So the killer took her cell phone?” I asked, trying to rise too quickly and stumbling backwards. A look of mild concern crossed his face and his eyes narrowed.

“Sure your okay?” he asked, returning the notebook to the black bag and tucking it under his arm.

“I’m fine. I think I need some water.”

“We can get all her incoming and outgoing calls from the cell phone company. There may be something worth looking into there. I’ll call you if we have any further questions. Here’s my card if you happen to think of anything else that might be pertinent.”

As I looked around, I noticed that the room was beginning to empty. It was looking pretty much as it had before, minus Beth’s body, of course. I paused by her desk, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach.

“Do you need a ride home, Sarah?”

I turned and saw Jeff, a ring of keys dangling from his index finger. “Oh, I’m fine to drive,” I said. ”Thanks, though.” I raised a hand and waved weakly as he passed me and proceeded to the front door.

At the door, he turned back. “I’m sorry this happened, Sarah. I truly am.”

“Me, too.” I shrugged. It was all I could say.

Remembering that I needed to call my family, I walked back to the desk, picked up the phone and dialed. When no one answered, I left a message. Daniel, like me, was a workaholic, so was probably still at the office, Brian most likely at a friend’s house.

“Hey guys, it’s me. Um . . . .” My voice was breaking up. Not wanting to lose my composure on the answering machine, I said quickly, “Something’s happened here. I’ll tell you about it when I see you.”

There was one more call to make. I rang Gabby Olson and left a brief message on her voice mail.

My skull began to throb as I assembled the client information Detective Flynn had requested. Shutting off the lights, I took a final glance around. Through the window, I could see the detective still talking with several police officers.

“All set, Sarah?” he asked as I walked out into the chilly evening.

“All set,” I said, and handed him the list.

“Thank you. By the way, we’ll need you to keep the office closed for the weekend in case we need to come back.” He zipped his jacket against the cool, autumn air.

“Sure, no problem.” The only thing I wanted at that moment was to be in my bed. A wave of exhaustion swept over me as I climbed behind the wheel of the car. As I headed home in the dark, I tried to focus on the road, but the only thing I could see was Beth’s pale face.

When I woke the next morning, memories of the prior evenings’ events came flooding back. I opened my eyes. The light spilling in through the bedroom window reminded me I was in my bed safe and warm. I heard a soft knock at the door and my son’s voice. “Mom, can I come in?”

“Yes, of course, honey,” I said, clearing my throat.

The door opened slowly and Brian walked in and sat next to me on the bed.

“Dad told me what happened last night. Are you okay?” His eyes were still puffy from sleep, and his hair was sticking up in back. I smiled and reached out to touch his face.

“I’m okay. But did Dad tell you about Beth?”

“Yeah. That is so messed up! Do you think they’ll find the guy who did it?” He rubbed his eyes.

“I sure hope so, honey,” I said, pushing myself up and resting on my elbows.

“How’s your head?”

“Doesn’t hurt,” I said.

Brian gave me a strange look, but before he could say anything the door opened again and in came Daniel carrying a tray of coffee and muffins.

“How about a little breakfast in bed?” He smiled as he set down the tray and joined us on the bed. He was still wearing his blue, pinstripe pajamas.

“Now this is what the doctor ordered,” I said, wrapping my hands around a hot mug of coffee. As I breathed in the stimulating aroma, I realized they were both looking at me.

“We’re worried about you, Hun,” Daniel said, taking a bite of his muffin. “Don’t you think you should get checked out at the hospital or something?”

I shook my head. “This is all I need, the three of us together. It’s been so long since we’ve done this.” I knew as I said it that it sounded corny, but, truth was, my family rarely spent quality time together anymore.

“You’ve been through a traumatic experience. Maybe you should talk to your shrink, or a support group or something,” Daniel suggested.

“Maybe,” I said, taking a sip of the hot coffee and looking out the window at nothing in particular.

“So,” Daniel said, clearing his throat. “What are the police doing to find the killer?”

“I imagine they’ll question everyone she knew and hope to find someone with a motive.”

“Whoever it was must have had strong hands. Can you imagine strangling someone to death? It must have taken a few minutes, at least.”

Noticing Brian, sitting on the edge of the bed, totally engrossed in what his dad was saying, I tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. “True. But more importantly, why?”

Daniel shrugged. “You know what they always say. It’s usually love or money.”

“I’m pretty sure she didn’t have money,” I said. “And she was getting married.”

“Maybe an old boyfriend. Someone from her past. An old lover who went bonkers when he found out she was engaged. It happens.”

“I suppose. But why do it at the office? Why not wait ‘til she gets in her car, or at home. Why risk being seen in a public place?”

Daniel shrugged and stuffed another muffin in his mouth. I looked over at Brian, and slid the tray of pastries towards him.

“Go ahead, I’m not very hungry,” I said. “Maybe I’ll have something later.”

Daniel shot me a worried look.

“All this talk about Beth is upsetting my stomach,” I explained.

“Why don’t you stay in bed? You don’t need to go anywhere today, do you?”

“No. But lying in bed isn’t going to help find Beth’s killer.”

“And what, exactly, do you plan to do?”

The question percolated in my mind. What did I plan to do? I leaned back onto my pillow and sighed.

“That’s what I thought,” Daniel said. His condescending tone irritated me, but I decided not to rebut.

“Hey, Mom,” Brian asked, pushing off from the bed, “okay if I go to Nick’s today?”

“I guess so,” I said, trying to remain strong. My insides felt queasy. Maybe it was just the strong coffee.

“And I have a little work to do today,” Daniel said. “But I’ll be right down the hall in my office.”

“Thanks,” I said, not caring to make the effort to conceal my disappointment. It didn’t seem to matter. So much for family bonding.

I slid my legs over the edge of the bed and slowly rose, Brian and Daniel watching with some trepidation. Halfway across the room, I paused and looked over at them. “See,” I said, “I’m all good,” and proceeded to the bathroom.

After a shower, I began to feel normal again, whatever normal meant. I dressed and pulled my hair into a loose ponytail. The mirror was not kind to me, the bags beneath my eyes veritable suitcases.

Walking, still at a snail’s, albeit a sprightly snail’s, pace back into the bedroom, I glanced out the window at what was unmistakably another cold, rainy, New England day. Determined not to let the weather further dampen my spirits, I slipped into jeans and my most comfortable cashmere sweater and pulled on my knee-high, black leather boots. Then I rummaged through my make-up case and carefully applied under-eye cream, concealer, mascara, and a touch of blush.

Although it would have been easy to languish in bed all day and feel sorry for myself, something inside me was pushing me to act. But what did it want me to do?

I couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed that my family, once it was evident that I was fine physically, had scattered like leaves in the wind. Being a teenage boy, it was Brian’s job to be self-absorbed. But Daniel was a different story. Was it too much to expect my husband to indulge me for one day? Especially under the circumstances.