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Leaning out the window, she whispered, “Can I play too?”
Nick drew up and stopped. “Peeping Tom?” he asked, picking up a towel and wiping the sweat from his face.
“You look good. Your teacher must be proud.”
“Hmmm,” answered Nick, not allowing himself to be drawn.
“Are you two nuts?” Bert’s shoved her door open and marched to the window. “Do you want the neighbors to see you?”
“We aren’t finished this discussion,” said Amanda as Nick put up his sword and moved towards the kitchen door.
“We are as far as I’m concerned,” replied Nick.
“Children. I have to watch you all the time,” muttered Bert, passing the incredulous Amanda and going back to bed.
Amanda stared at the closed door. “It’s not over, Nick. Trust me. I always get what I want…eventually.”
After a morning of visiting pharmaceutical companies, Bert arrived home with a list of twenty area vets and doctors who had purchased the named drugs in the past month.
“What story did you tell them?” asked Amanda, sipping coffee, still in her robe.
“Up at the crack of noon, I see,” answered Bert, giving the list to Nick, hunched over his computer. “I didn’t have to tell them a story. I told them the truth that I want to clear my dead friend’s name. They were quite cooperative when they heard about the drugs.”
“Any luck there, Nick?” asked Amanda.
“Yeah. Edward Reynolds,” repeated Nick. “Wait a minute. I was reading that name earlier.” He put down his coffee mug and entered the name into his search function. Reading his notes, he nodded. “Yeah. That was a case I covered with Claudia.”
*****
1995
“Got it.” Claudia Hoffman’s voice was crisp on the microphone. Nick pulled the SUV into U-turn on the dark street. Turning to her partner she worried aloud, “Sounds bad doesn’t it? Old guy reported crying and screaming, thuds and then nothing. He waited for an hour, mulling it over, and finally decided to call it in. We’re closer than any uniforms.” She sighed. “This is one of the reasons I hate night shifts.”
“You’d rather be at home listening to the sounds of your kids’ breathing. Why don’t you take a leave of absence, spend some time being a mom?” Claudia was a great detective, but Nick noticed that lately, she seemed bitter about the time spent away from her two small children. Domestic problems acerbated this feeling.
“I wish I could, but this city is so damned expensive to live in. Between the mortgage and car payments, Eric’s salary just isn’t enough.” She reached for a cigarette, but Nick took it away from her.
“You quit, remember.”
Around the apartment door stood a small crowd of people in various stages of dress. Nick and Claudia pushed their way through. Nick shouted, “Police. Open up,” while pounding on the door.
“We tried that already,” offered an elderly man in a striped, terrycloth robe over flannel pajamas. “Several times.”
Nick glanced his way and asked, “You the one that called the cops?” When the man nodded, he continued,” Why’d you wait?”
The man reddened as he chewed on his thumbnail. “I know they wouldn’t want no bother, you know in case they were…you know.”
Nick wanted to say more, but just asked, “Did they fight a lot?”
The man shook his head. “That’s just it, nicest couple you could ever meet. Always smiling, laughing at each other. Holding hands, kissing in the stairwell.” He looked distressed.
“Do you know their names?” asked Claudia.
“Ted and Laura Reynolds,” replied the old man.
“Any kids?”
“Nope.”
“Thank goodness for that. Back up please.” Rearing back, Nick lifted his foot and kicked the door in. “Stay out here,” he told the crowd. “I mean it.” He entered first, gun cradled in two hands up near his nose. Claudia followed, also with her gun drawn.
In the living room, they found a petite woman of around thirty, face down in a pool of her own blood. Claudia turned her carefully and they could see that her face had been badly beaten. Blood bubbled out of her mouth and from a deep wound on the back of her head. A heavy glass coffee table was broken, with blood on one corner. A chair was overturned, knickknacks were scattered on the blood-spattered rug. Nick grabbed his phone and barked, “Ambulance. Now. And backup.” He then ordered Claudia, “Stay with her, and I’ll check the rest of the place.”
Nick went through the apartment carefully. All the other rooms were neat and tidy with no sign of any people or signs of the battleground that was the living room. In the single bedroom, he found a blood trail leading to the queen-sized bed. On the bed was a man, clad only in boxers, sprawled out on his back, not moving. There was so much blood, Nick thought he must be dead too. With his gun aimed at the man, he called and kicked the bed with his foot. The sleeper was a big man… obviously fit… with broad shoulders and rippling abs. He woke with a start to see the gun and Nick. “What?” he mumbled sleepily and turned, “Laura? What have you done with my wife?” He started wailing, “Laura, Laura? What have you done with her, you bastard?”
Nick flashed his badge. “We’re here to help. What happened?” He sat down on the bed watching the man’s emotions escalate.
“Nothing happened.” The man struggled to get past Nick. Lifting his hands to push Nick out of the way, he saw the blood. His eyes widened as he looked at his blood-smeared chest. He fell back on the bed and backed up as if he wanted to crawl up the headboard. “I need to clean up,” he finally said, trembling.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Nick reached down and took a firm hold on the man’s arm. Sirens wailed as officers and emergency personnel rushed into the apartment. The sounds of resuscitation attempts could be heard coming from the living room. Not until the ambulance could be heard retreating down the street would Nick allow the man into the living room. He read the man his rights and charged him with assault.
“But someone hurt Laura,” cried the man, frantically. “I have to help her.”
Nick questioned him further, but his story never changed. He and his wife had gone to bed. They had gone to sleep. He had only awakened when Nick arrived.
“No sign of forced entry anywhere. The front door was locked. Any number of neighbors can attest to that,” said Claudia. “All windows were closed and locked. Yet the neighbors still heard crying and screaming.”
“Is she gonna make it?” asked Nick quietly. The man on the couch moaned and cried, watched by a policeman who was tying bags on his hands to preserve the evidence. Others were getting samples of the blood throughout the otherwise neat apartment and taking pictures of the scene.
“Don’t know,” said Claudia, shaking her head. “He’s a good liar,” she said, inclining her head to the man. “You charge him yet?”
“Yeah. Who else could it be?”
Laura Reynolds died on her way to the hospital. The physical evidence showed that the only blood in the apartment was hers. The man had no explanation for what transpired that night, but insisted he would never do such a thing. He loved his wife of five years and there had never been any problems. The man’s lawyer had a dozen experts in sleep behaviour claim that it was entirely possible for someone to do this in their sleep and never remember. His neighbors and family had nothing but good to say about him, his wife and their relationship. The man never changed his story despite the overwhelming evidence of his wife’s blood on his hands and body. Ted Reynolds was convicted of second degree murder and sentenced to ten years in prison.
*****
“Think it was him?” asked Amanda.
“It could be,” admitted Nick. “The defense staked its case on the sleep behaviour. I didn’t know he was a doctor.”
“Vet actually,” answered Bert. “According to the drug company it was the first order he had placed in quite a while. When did he get out of jail?”
Nick took another swig of coffee without thinking and shook his head to clear the bitter taste. “Four years ago and he still lives in the area. Shall we go?”
“You’re dead, remember? Let me go and talk to him. If he did this, I could turn this evidence over to the police and let them deal with it. It would clear your name, Nick.” Bert looked over Nick’s shoulder at the image on the screen. “Hey, that’s the guy who hit me!”
“Then he’s really dangerous. Bert, you can’t go alone, I have to go with you.” Nick’s voice was adamant.
“Me too,” All of the joking had disappeared from Amanda’s tone. “If he’s the one who killed Lucy, I want a piece of him and it won’t matter if he sees us.”
“Weren’t you listening? Let the police deal with him. If he turns up dead, how can I clear your name?”
“He knows whether or not I killed Lucy.” Nick spoke through clenched teeth. “I have to know that Bert.”
“I’ll find out for you. I promise.” Bert stared at Nick, who stared back. Finally he said, “Fine, come along. You can listen from the van. From the van! Do you hear me?”
Raising his hands in mock surrender, Nick replied, “The van. Yes Sir.”
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