Silver Lining - A Carpelli Adventure: Sequel To The Bestselling Thriller Fatal Mistake (17 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Quickly Betty made her way down the sublevel floors where the autopsy theaters were and found herself disoriented. She’d come in from the other side of the building earlier with Doctor Anne. Then she saw the sign that she remembered from earlier, it had a black background with white letters and a red arrow: Theaters 8-12. She followed the red arrow.

She went down the hall to the second intersecting hallway and was about to go around the corner when she heard voices and stopped. She got as close to the corner as she dared to try and hear what the people were talking about. Of three voices, a woman’s and two men, she only recognized Doctor Anne’s voice. She was talking to a couple of men who had their backs to the hallway and Betty. Doctor Anne seemed a bit flustered and kept blocking the doors to the theater and the men were getting more and more agitated. Finally, the big colored guy, reached out and grabbed her. He then shook her like a rag doll before he flung her aside against the nearest wall. He then charged through the door and flipped on the light.

Doctor Anne tried to follow him into the theater, but the other man grabbed her arm and pinned her against the wall. She struggled with him until he slapped her in the face and she gave in. She stood there, passively until the other man came out of the theater.

The large colored man through the door open. Slamming it against the wall and making a loud banging sound. He quickly stepped through the door stuffing a handful used bandages in Doctor Anne’s face and screamed,

“Where is he?”

“Where is who? I told you already I haven’t a clue where he is.” Doctor Anne shouted back at him. Her display of defiance was costly, as the big man, instantly delivered a back handed slap that drove Doctor Anne to her knees. Betty bit her lip and continued to watch and listen.

“We know you’re trying to frame us for something, Doc. You been using this guy to try and rattle us. Our friends at the FBI say your office here is wired and you’re claiming to have us on tape threatening you, if you don’t fake a few death certificates. Wow! Talk about a master stroke. Here you are the mastermind behind the organ swap deal. Who helped murder your own husband and son for their organs and you’re going to frame us? Not chance, Doc. Not a chance. Now, where is the tape?”

Seeing it was over, Doctor Anne’s tough demeanor caved. “What am I supposed to tell the FBI?” She asked. “They won’t let me change my mind.”

“Someone broke in and took everything. Now where is it?” Kelly demanded as Washington flexed his muscles.

“In the third drawer down, on the desk’s right hand side.” Doctor Anne stated.

“Go get it.” Kelly told Washington, who quickly went back into the theater and in short order reemerged carrying a small tape recorder. He played it to make sure what was on it but the tape was blank. He pulled the tape out and smashed the recorder against the wall.” Anything else we should know?” Kelly asked.

“I know I was stupid, but can we go back to being friends again? I promise I’ll behave.” Doctor Anne asked Kelly sweetly, almost as if begging for his forgiveness.

“It’ll take some time Doc. You’ve violated our trust. It was you who came to me asking if we could help you in your scheme to strip the bodies of their organs and to escalate the deal to actively get live donors from the druggies. You recruited that damn Korean and you then brought in this new asshole without telling us. Yeah, the money is good, Doc, but it ain’t that good. Not good enough to let you run around playing games behind our backs.” Kelly told her where she stood.

“I’ll take less of a cut.” Doctor Anne offered.

“You’ll get a whole lot less.” Washington snarled at her.

“So what else you got for us, Doc. Or are we to believe that you’re clean now, well sort of.” Kelly asked.

Doctor Anne hesitated for a moment, then looked Kelly in the eye and said, “The FBI has the city editor running tapes on you, too. They said they haven’t anything major yet, but they’re going to keep recording in hopes you’ll screw up somehow.”

“Oh, really. Now that is useful information. Tell you what Doc, why don’t we go get us some breakfast and talk over our future working relationship.”

“But my shift doesn’t end for another four hours and I have at least two autopsies to complete by then.” The Doc protested. Washington delivered a lightning quick punch to the side of her head, knocking her down. Kelly turned to walk away but gave the Doc some instructions over his shoulder. “Hurry along now, Doctor. Your work record will survive one bad day.”

Washington yanked her by one arm off the floor and pushed her forward towards Kelly and the group started up the hallway.

Betty jumped back and began checking doors to try and find an open one. The third door she tried, it opened, bingo! She ducked inside and closed the door just as the trio rounded the corner. Betty stood frozen in the dark space of the room she had entered, listening to the three of them walk past. The words she heard she assumed were from the large black man, who had appeared to be far more aggressive than the smaller white man had. As they passed, he growled at the Doc. “Shut the fuck up, Doc. If you don’t, I’m going to enjoy giving him something to really cry about. So, stop cryin’, bitch!”

When the elevator opened on the main floor, the trio was met by a handful of Diablo members who were looking hard for the driver of the classic Chevy, which was now just scrap metal in the parking structure.

“Have you seen them?” One of the Diablo’s asked, knowing full well who Smith and Jones were and that they wouldn’t tell them, even if they had. The rank and file had no idea, they and the Doctor they were with on the elevator, were working with their boss. As a group they snickered, but quickly stopped when Washington sneered at them. As the trio started off the elevator, the Diablo’s at first failed to move, but once Kelly reached his hand under his coat, they backed away from the doorway and let the two detectives pass along with the stunningly beautiful woman doctor. Just as they loaded on the elevator the cell phone of the guy who was supposed to be leading the search party chirped.

“Yeah, Boss!” he said into the phone. “Yeah, we’re just about to go down to the first basement.” He the listened for a moment and then he repeated his new instructions. “Yeah, we’re to go to the first level and search just half of it. The east half, then go and do the same on the second level. Yeah, we can handle that, no problem.” Then he closed his phone severing the connection. “To the dungeon, kiddies”, he yelled and the elevator doors closed.

Betty stood frozen in the darkness of the room she’d entered. She waited several minutes to be sure the trio had indeed got on the elevator before she turned on the light. She’d wandered into a utility room used to stock maintance supplies. She knew she needed to go and see what happened to John. They had acted as if they hadn’t found him, and she wasn’t sure how they could not have. She needed to know, if he was dead and if they had found her ID. She knew of course they had, it was only in movies that good people managed to evade the criminals. Oh, there was going to be hell to pay over this.

She waited several minutes more before she peeked her head out of the room. All she could hear was silence, so she quickly hid the two bags of money and went around the corner to the morgue. The doors were open and the light was on, but the gurney that she had left me on wasn’t in the room. Slowly she moved across the room to the set of doors on the back wall and pushed them open.

The room was dark, she couldn’t really see anything so her first instinct was to find the light switch. That took her a few seconds, but she found it on the wall next to doors and flipped the lights on. Even with the lights on, there wasn’t much to see. The room looked similar to the one she’d just stepped out of except there were no mechanical lighting arms hanging from the ceiling and the refrigerators built into the front wall, had no handles or locks. Obviously the room at one time was used to perform autopsies, but had been mothballed sometime in the past.

Betty continued across the room to the door on the back wall. She reached out to open it but just before she touched the door, I called out softly, “Tag, you’re it.”

Betty spun around expecting to see me but it was obvious that she still couldn’t when she called out, “John?”

I was in what I now referred to as my refrigerator, it was the one at the far end of the row, second from the top. At first, I could just get my hand out and started waving it, but it was more behind than above the door. So I shoved the door fully open, I stuck my face out and called her name. She saw me now and grinned at me. I gave her a weak smile and when she failed to move towards me, I, through a lot of effort spoke again. “It’s me alright, now get me out of here.”

“John!” Betty squealed and ran the short distance to me. “I am so glad to see you’re alive.”

“Well, that was sheer luck. After you had gone, I thought I heard someone in the hallway. I knew I just couldn’t lay there hiding under the sheet, so instead of waiting to see if someone was really there, I slid off the gurney and made my way in here. I’ve used that little cubby hole three times now to hide when Kelly and Washington have come looking for me. I really hate hiding in there.” I shared.

“Forget about that John. We have to get out of here. Not only are Kelly and Washington here hunting for you but so are the Diablo’s. I think Kelly and Washington are going to kill Doctor Anne.” Betty shared.

“What? Why?” I asked totally clueless.

“They said they had a friend with the FBI, who told them, the theater was wired in hopes of catching the two of them on tape harassing the Doc or in the act of forcing her, through black mail or threats, to alter death certificates on certain people because they had been murdered and they wanted to hide the fact.” Betty shared.

“Where are they now?” I asked as Betty helped me slide out of the refrigerator. She lost her footing and the two of us tumbled to the floor. I saw stars, the pain was excruciating. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” I asked, as I struggled to get to my feet and helped her up. As I did so, Betty noticed the blood trickling down his side again.

“John, we need to get you some more medical help,” Betty stated. “But first, we have to get out of here. Give me a minute and I’ll see what I can find besides a gurney to move you out of here.” Betty stated and hurried to the hallway door. There she stopped for a minute, pushed one side of the doors open slightly and listened. It was still quiet, she smiled at me and then stepped into the hallway and was gone. I decided I needed to be my own medical help. I slowly crossed the autopsy theater, using the gurney that was in the back room, as an oversized walker.  I went directly to the cabinets, where the Doc had found the first aid and bandages, for my hand which I hurt several days ago, but abandoned the wound care and bandages, when things started getting interesting. I found a large sterile surgical sponge and a roll of tape, which I used to stick the sponge to my side, over my bullet wound.                     

Betty was quickly becoming frustrated, because every door she tried was locked. Apparently it was a policy of the hospital to lock all doors after you used a room or for the overnight period. She’d gone about as far as she was willing to risk, when a door knob turned. Inside the room were several desks stacked on top of each other, a few dozen trash bins, stacked one inside the other, a few stacks of chairs and in the far corner was a wheel chair.

Returning to the room she found me laying across a gurney, his eyes closed. There was a big plastic bag on the floor next to me and roll of tape stuck to my right arm. When she called my name, I didn’t answer at first. It wasn’t until she had touched me that I reacted. I had either passed out or had fallen asleep, while waiting for her. She helped him into the wheel chair and started to push him out of the room, when it occurred to her, she had no idea where to go and no vehicle to get there, if she had an idea.

They were at least twenty miles from the diner and thirty-five or so from her place. All she knew for sure was that they couldn’t stay here. The Diablo’s were coming and if they remained here, they would be trapped, so they had to go. I had passed out again once I sat down and was no help to her.

“John, please wake up. I need some instructions. I don’t know how we’re going to get away with no car and nowhere to go. John come on, wake up.” Betty urged and to her surprise, I woke up.

“What’s happening?” I asked, while looking around, as if this place wasn’t familiar. Though within a few seconds, it all came rushing back to me. How pathic is it, when the morgue is the one place in town you’re most familiar with, and you don’t work there. There’s a little insight into my life for you.

“You passed out for a little bit there, when I helped you into the chair. We don’t have a car or a place to escape to. What are we going to do?” Betty asked.

“Got a cell phone?” I asked.

“In my purse.” Betty replied.

“Get it out. I’ll call us a taxi,” I stated.

“I can call a cab, but that isn’t going to help us, it’s after midnight and the cabs don’t run after midnight in Knoxville.” Betty informed me.

“That’s okay. This cab company is supposed run 24/7/365, no questions asked.” I shared.

“What the mob has its own private cab company?” Betty asked, finding it hard to believe. There was such thing here Knoxville.

“It’s something like that. Only it’s more of a guardian angel service.” I failed to explain it. I opened the phone and punched in the number, hoping like hell my new friend was good to his word.