He exhaled, “Man, there is nothing like a decent cup of coffee.” Kellen said as he sipped his second cup.
“Guess you don’t have that when you’re forced to make your own.” Andy jested.
“Okay back to the drawing board, none of your notes are included in the file or in the paperwork?”
“Not unless they supported his version of the story. Look at this, here are copies of my notes included in the paperwork package, there are even numbered pages missing…”
“But there’s nothing other than good guesses that link him to Blue Richards or Ian Justyn or give any other reason why he’d be so anxious to close a case that he’d leave out details that would keep it open.”
“None.”
Kellen shifted through a few things. “Okay let’s go back to basics…next of kin?”
“Girlfriend, Ella Myerson, shared an apartment on Fifth and Greene.”
“Anyone speak with her?”
“Balouche and I. Seemed pretty shocked and afraid…I think she knows more than she let on.”
“Follow up?”
“None. Peyton didn’t see the need. I’ve slipped over twice myself. She’s gone… clothes…the whole thing. Didn’t even claim the body.”
“Lends itself to knows more than letting on, but still nothing concrete…wait a minute, how did you get the address and next of kin?”
Andy sat back in the chair, “I just assumed Balouche fished it out of the wallet…”
“And the wallet would be…?”
“No where to be found.” Andy sipped his coffee and thought a moment. “I guess that someone from the scene could have told him, didn’t the girlfriend work with Ian?”
Kellen nodded. “But I’m the only one who was conscious who knew that connection and I didn’t say anything. At that time I just assumed that Blue had a wallet on him or one close by. From the time Blue and Ella arrived, they pretty much went their separate ways. I never saw them together once.”
“And we never found any personal effects, although we assume that the socks and shoes he was wearing were his, everything else had been taken from Justyn’s closet. Sweats, shirt and ski mask all had Justyn’s name written with a laundry marker on the tag. Wasn’t wearing underwear.”
“It’s like he showed up naked…and he didn’t. I answered the door when he arrived. He was wearing khaki shorts and a blue button up. Of course the next time I saw him he was naked…in the Shores pool. That’s the last time I saw him…”
“What about her?”
“Sitting around with others while Ian had the power pow wow, haven’t seen her since then. How did you get to her apartment?”
“Balouche…said let’s go talk to next of kin, he drove, we arrived…”
“There’s your connection, Balouche had been there before…”
“But why?”
“Still a mystery…Richards worked as a bartender, but at a trendy night club, if Balouche had ever been there I’d have known about it.”
“I’ve never been there either, but I swear I’ve seen him somewhere before…just can’t put my finger on it though…”
“When you remember it may be nothing….”
Andy looked down at his feet. “I need to ask a personal question….”
“Shoot...”
“You and Balouche…from what you said at the station, you guys had a personal relationship that went sour?”
Kellen laughed. “Sorry, but that’s putting it mildly. Let’s say our wives had a very close relationship for a little over a year. Our wives are still a couple…”
“Is it possible that Balouche has been stalking you?”
“Very doubtful…”
“Why?”
“Because my dog hates his guts. Growls and tries to bite him anytime he’s near. I can pretty much guarantee you that if his car pulled up in the driveway, Ralphie would start foaming at the mouth…”
“Thought maybe he’d been caught by Blue watching you when he was watching Ian…”
“We still don’t even know that for sure. Were DNA tests done on the semen?”
“Never saw any reports, in fact, never saw the area, was just told about it and saw it written in the report…”
“Could be as bogus as the report then…”
“Could be…”
“I’ve got to get to the hospital. My turn to stand guard….”
“You’re with me on this then…”
“Absolutely. Let’s keep quietly digging on our own. We’ll meet up on the sly and exchange notes and theories. Maybe together we can figure this out quickly.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Vignette #158: Bloody Fingers
Ella dared not moan. She wasn’t sure Bruno was gone yet. He had to believe she was dead. She kept going in and out of consciousness, so death wouldn’t be hard to fake for too much longer. She kept as still as possible in the cold and listened and prayed a while longer.
She’d gotten her licks in. He wouldn’t be able to hide the damage for at least a few days. When she first saw his feet she prepared herself by reaching into her shoulder bag and finding the scissors she had in there. When he grabbed her the first time she got him good in the fat of his forearm.
It slowed him down some, but the evil in the man just pumped in more adrenaline. She ran but he still managed to jump her and wrestle her to the ground. She took a few blows, but managed to ditch her purse in the tussle.
Hopefully he wouldn’t find it, unfortunately only some homeless guy would and nothing in it would have any value. Better ending up in the dump, than in his hands. Soon her letters would arrive, and eventually get to someone who would now have all they needed to stop Bruno.
She listened closely. She was alone. She took a well deserved deep, painful breath. She crawled to the alley wall and tried to stand. She couldn’t. She needed help. Ella reached for her cell phone.
Damn…it was in her purse. Help wasn’t coming. She had to do this herself. She struggled to stand. She got almost up and fell back to the ground.
It was over. She hadn’t made it to safety. Ella slid her head to the cold bloody cement. Nothing she could do now. If only she had said something to someone sooner, but she always had to do things herself.
“My bad.” She whispered to the dark, crisp morning air.
Ella started to drift off. In her head she ticked off everything she’d stored, right there under everyone’s nose. She’d sent the letter pointing to where everything was, cryptically of course just in case the wrong person got to it.
But she’d made the call. She knew her partner would be on his way. She trusted him. He’d find away to put it all together. Ella had gathered enough to put it all into place, all but the why. They’d have to figure that one out themselves.
Ella’s eyes popped open. “Oh my God!”
A last bit of energy surged. She knew why. She had known what they were planning but not exactly why. Maybe it was a guess. Maybe it was her own impending death, but it all made sense. It was the only thing that made sense.
Why hadn’t anyone known this before? It was so simple. They had covered it up so long ago, but one of the players had lied. It made everyone scramble in the wrong direction.
Ella had gathered all the evidence but none of it would make sense until they knew why, and she was the only one who had figured it out. Even the players didn’t realize it. Bruno was just guessing, but it his guess had hit dead center of the bullseye, and that wasn’t even what he was after.
She had to tell them. But how? She wasn’t going to live out the hour unless she got help. No help was in sight. There had to be a way.
Ella tried to push herself up again. Her fingers were slick with blood, most of it hers, but some of it his. She smiled and eased herself back down on the cement.
She wasn’t seeing too well, but she did the best she could. Using her fingers as a pen and her own blood as ink she scrawled a message she hoped no one could ignore. When she finished she pulled herself up, covering it with her back.
Ella was happy. She could ease gently into that goodnight now.
“I had a feeling you were faking it…” Ella barely had time to open her eyes before the man’s boot came at her forehead and crushed her skull against the wall.
He examined his work closely this time. There’s no way she was faking it now. Bruno ripped the sleeve off Ella’s blouse and wiped her blood off the sole of his boot. He tossed it in the trash when he was satisfied he wouldn’t leave footprints and chuckled as he left her body.
When he turned the corner, disappearing into the maze that would lead him to anonymity, Ella’s body fell to the side with a thud on the ground. Fresh blood and brain matter trickled down the brick mingling with the message she left.
But it was there, shouting over her body like a cartoon bubble, one word still readable…”Hutton”.
She’d gotten her licks in. He wouldn’t be able to hide the damage for at least a few days. When she first saw his feet she prepared herself by reaching into her shoulder bag and finding the scissors she had in there. When he grabbed her the first time she got him good in the fat of his forearm.
It slowed him down some, but the evil in the man just pumped in more adrenaline. She ran but he still managed to jump her and wrestle her to the ground. She took a few blows, but managed to ditch her purse in the tussle.
Hopefully he wouldn’t find it, unfortunately only some homeless guy would and nothing in it would have any value. Better ending up in the dump, than in his hands. Soon her letters would arrive, and eventually get to someone who would now have all they needed to stop Bruno.
She listened closely. She was alone. She took a well deserved deep, painful breath. She crawled to the alley wall and tried to stand. She couldn’t. She needed help. Ella reached for her cell phone.
Damn…it was in her purse. Help wasn’t coming. She had to do this herself. She struggled to stand. She got almost up and fell back to the ground.
It was over. She hadn’t made it to safety. Ella slid her head to the cold bloody cement. Nothing she could do now. If only she had said something to someone sooner, but she always had to do things herself.
“My bad.” She whispered to the dark, crisp morning air.
Ella started to drift off. In her head she ticked off everything she’d stored, right there under everyone’s nose. She’d sent the letter pointing to where everything was, cryptically of course just in case the wrong person got to it.
But she’d made the call. She knew her partner would be on his way. She trusted him. He’d find away to put it all together. Ella had gathered enough to put it all into place, all but the why. They’d have to figure that one out themselves.
Ella’s eyes popped open. “Oh my God!”
A last bit of energy surged. She knew why. She had known what they were planning but not exactly why. Maybe it was a guess. Maybe it was her own impending death, but it all made sense. It was the only thing that made sense.
Why hadn’t anyone known this before? It was so simple. They had covered it up so long ago, but one of the players had lied. It made everyone scramble in the wrong direction.
Ella had gathered all the evidence but none of it would make sense until they knew why, and she was the only one who had figured it out. Even the players didn’t realize it. Bruno was just guessing, but it his guess had hit dead center of the bullseye, and that wasn’t even what he was after.
She had to tell them. But how? She wasn’t going to live out the hour unless she got help. No help was in sight. There had to be a way.
Ella tried to push herself up again. Her fingers were slick with blood, most of it hers, but some of it his. She smiled and eased herself back down on the cement.
She wasn’t seeing too well, but she did the best she could. Using her fingers as a pen and her own blood as ink she scrawled a message she hoped no one could ignore. When she finished she pulled herself up, covering it with her back.
Ella was happy. She could ease gently into that goodnight now.
“I had a feeling you were faking it…” Ella barely had time to open her eyes before the man’s boot came at her forehead and crushed her skull against the wall.
He examined his work closely this time. There’s no way she was faking it now. Bruno ripped the sleeve off Ella’s blouse and wiped her blood off the sole of his boot. He tossed it in the trash when he was satisfied he wouldn’t leave footprints and chuckled as he left her body.
When he turned the corner, disappearing into the maze that would lead him to anonymity, Ella’s body fell to the side with a thud on the ground. Fresh blood and brain matter trickled down the brick mingling with the message she left.
But it was there, shouting over her body like a cartoon bubble, one word still readable…”Hutton”.
Vignette #157: Guard Dogs
“That’s a good boy,” Kellen said squatting down and giving the dog a vigorous rub. “Did you take care of business?” He scratched Ralphie behind the ears and received a wet sloppy lick on the cheek in return before the dog bounded to his bed in the corner, made three circles and flopped down.
Kellen shut the doors tight, trying to not look at the mess that still made him shudder across the wall. He had pulled the curtains closed on the French doors so he couldn’t see. There would be time enough for that later, as he helped the cleaning crew and the neighbors try to piece it all back together.
He crawled back on his bed, on his back and waited for the sun to come up. He would take his turn guarding Ian at 8 a.m. Ripley had insisted on double shifts. The mountain of a man had taken such a shine to him.
He had told Kellen that Ian was the first big shot he’d ever met that treated him like a human and not a piece of furniture. The man even bawled when he first got a look at him in the hospital bed, all bloody and bruised and lifeless except for some ragged shallow breaths.
There were so many pieces that just didn’t fit. His gut told him that something just wasn’t right. Blue Richards had waited in that closet until the right time. He definitely intended to kill Ian, but why? And why did Peyton Balouche cover it up? What was the connection? Had HRT really pressured the police force into a more publicly acceptable outcome?
Blue Richards had waited in that closet for who knows how long. He could have grabbed whatever he wanted to steal and been long gone, but he had slipped in that closet well during the early evening, changed in to dark clothes so no one would recognize him and waited until he heard or saw Ian enter the bedroom alone. But why did he not want to be recognized if he hadn’t intended to kill him?
Semen on the ground, that’s what Peyton had told him they had found. It could have been from almost anyone at the party who decided to have a little tryst in the bushes. Kellen sat straight up in bed. The first pieces fit. Blue Richard had been watching Ian for days.
Of course, that would lend itself to the stalking aspect of the case. He would have to find out where Richards hiding place was. Kellen lay back down and his mind whirled. What if Ian was the target but not necessarily the intended victim? “That could be it,” He thought.
That still led back to the question of why and didn’t explain the connection with Balouche. Surely it wasn’t Balouche who set the whole thing up. Balouche would have known that Kellen would have come bounding over pistol drawn. Had he been the intended victim, Richards would have had to do some mighty fancy footwork to make it look like Ian had shot him in a jealous rage. Nope, that theory was out and there was still absolutely no connection between Balouche and Richards.
Kellen tried to put it all out of his head. He needed to get a little sleep. He rolled over on his belly and tried to relax. He put his head face down on the pillows and slid his arms under their coolness.
Wait! Was that his doorbell? Kellen snapped back from his thoughts and realized someone was at his front door. He looked outside.
It was still black. The sun hadn’t come up yet. He grabbed his underwear from the floor and quickly pulled them on. Ralphie got up from his bed and trotted downstairs as Kel reached for his robe and tied it around him.
He looked out the window. He didn’t recognize the car. Had something happened to Ian? He started to panic, and thought; no, Ripley would have called immediately. As he hit the first floor landing he looked through the peephole.
That guy from the police station—the partner—what was he doing here? At this time of the morning? Kellen flung open the front door. “Detective Mitchell? Is something wrong?”
“Officer Jackson, I am so sorry to bother you at this time of the night, but I wanted to make sure that no one knew I had come.”
“Well, you certainly picked a great hour.”
“Am I disturbing you, sir?’
“Actually, no. Having a little trouble getting to sleep…”
“I meant, are you alone?”
“Yes, of course.”
“May I come in? It’s important.”
Kellen motioned him in and the young man hesitantly stepped through to the foyer. He was dressed in jeans and a hooded tee, and had a backpack over his right shoulder.
“I didn’t know who else to go to, but something’s just not right, sir…”
“Listen, Detective Mitchell, if this is concerning a case, you should really be talking to your partner and not me…”
“Andy…”
“Excuse me?”
“My name is Andy, sir.”
“Alright Andy, and drop the sir stuff. You can call me Kellen or Kel”
“Thank you…uhm…may I sit down for a moment?”
“Come on in.” Andy followed Kellen through the foyer into his deceptively sparse living room. He motioned for Andy to have a seat, which he did on the very edge of the couch, very uncomfortably. He took is back pack off and let it drop between his feet.
“The Ian Justyn case…”
“I thought that was closed.” Kellen didn’t bother to hide his contempt for that fact from his voice.
“You’re right, it is…and you’re right, nothing is adding up. That’s why I’ve come to you…”
“Have you brought this up to Balouche?”
“Everytime I try, he shoots me down, has a too easy solution or changes the subject.”
“I’ve known Peyton for a long time, and I think we can both agree that he’s never wrong, even though most of the time he is…”
“I really didn’t think much about it until I went in to do the paperwork. He’d done it already.”
“Balouche? Did paperwork? That’s a red flag right there!”
“It was already typed, signed and filed by the time I had come in to get it done. I asked about it and he just said he thought I deserved a break and since he’d done most of the footwork himself…”
“Like that ever made him do paperwork before….” Kellen remembered all too well.
“Of course he left all the filing on our end to be done, which I went ahead and did, but I noticed he hadn’t made a copy for our files.”
“Probably didn’t even realize that that had to be done, the butt wipe.”
“That’s what I assumed, so I just went to Betty and asked her to make me a copy, which she did. Just for kicks while he was off bullshitting with someone about the stalker case he just solved, I read it over. It’s all pretty pat, and unquestionably supports his resolution.”
“So? Why are you coming to me? To rub it in my face?”
“Absolutely not. Kellen what’s in the report adds up, but it’s what’s left out that makes it add up…”
Kellen sat up. “Coffee, we need coffee and I need to put some pants on.”
“I can make the coffee while you dress.”
“Heard about my coffee, huh?”
“The facts just add up…”
Kellen sniggered. “Kitchen’s through there, I’ll be right back down…” Andy headed off toward the coffee maker and Kellen up the stairs to find pants and a shirt. He picked the jeans that he had wadded up off the floor and shucked them on. He sniffed his tee before pushing his arms through, but decided that a new shirt was in order. He pulled open the top drawer
Kellen shut the doors tight, trying to not look at the mess that still made him shudder across the wall. He had pulled the curtains closed on the French doors so he couldn’t see. There would be time enough for that later, as he helped the cleaning crew and the neighbors try to piece it all back together.
He crawled back on his bed, on his back and waited for the sun to come up. He would take his turn guarding Ian at 8 a.m. Ripley had insisted on double shifts. The mountain of a man had taken such a shine to him.
He had told Kellen that Ian was the first big shot he’d ever met that treated him like a human and not a piece of furniture. The man even bawled when he first got a look at him in the hospital bed, all bloody and bruised and lifeless except for some ragged shallow breaths.
There were so many pieces that just didn’t fit. His gut told him that something just wasn’t right. Blue Richards had waited in that closet until the right time. He definitely intended to kill Ian, but why? And why did Peyton Balouche cover it up? What was the connection? Had HRT really pressured the police force into a more publicly acceptable outcome?
Blue Richards had waited in that closet for who knows how long. He could have grabbed whatever he wanted to steal and been long gone, but he had slipped in that closet well during the early evening, changed in to dark clothes so no one would recognize him and waited until he heard or saw Ian enter the bedroom alone. But why did he not want to be recognized if he hadn’t intended to kill him?
Semen on the ground, that’s what Peyton had told him they had found. It could have been from almost anyone at the party who decided to have a little tryst in the bushes. Kellen sat straight up in bed. The first pieces fit. Blue Richard had been watching Ian for days.
Of course, that would lend itself to the stalking aspect of the case. He would have to find out where Richards hiding place was. Kellen lay back down and his mind whirled. What if Ian was the target but not necessarily the intended victim? “That could be it,” He thought.
That still led back to the question of why and didn’t explain the connection with Balouche. Surely it wasn’t Balouche who set the whole thing up. Balouche would have known that Kellen would have come bounding over pistol drawn. Had he been the intended victim, Richards would have had to do some mighty fancy footwork to make it look like Ian had shot him in a jealous rage. Nope, that theory was out and there was still absolutely no connection between Balouche and Richards.
Kellen tried to put it all out of his head. He needed to get a little sleep. He rolled over on his belly and tried to relax. He put his head face down on the pillows and slid his arms under their coolness.
Wait! Was that his doorbell? Kellen snapped back from his thoughts and realized someone was at his front door. He looked outside.
It was still black. The sun hadn’t come up yet. He grabbed his underwear from the floor and quickly pulled them on. Ralphie got up from his bed and trotted downstairs as Kel reached for his robe and tied it around him.
He looked out the window. He didn’t recognize the car. Had something happened to Ian? He started to panic, and thought; no, Ripley would have called immediately. As he hit the first floor landing he looked through the peephole.
That guy from the police station—the partner—what was he doing here? At this time of the morning? Kellen flung open the front door. “Detective Mitchell? Is something wrong?”
“Officer Jackson, I am so sorry to bother you at this time of the night, but I wanted to make sure that no one knew I had come.”
“Well, you certainly picked a great hour.”
“Am I disturbing you, sir?’
“Actually, no. Having a little trouble getting to sleep…”
“I meant, are you alone?”
“Yes, of course.”
“May I come in? It’s important.”
Kellen motioned him in and the young man hesitantly stepped through to the foyer. He was dressed in jeans and a hooded tee, and had a backpack over his right shoulder.
“I didn’t know who else to go to, but something’s just not right, sir…”
“Listen, Detective Mitchell, if this is concerning a case, you should really be talking to your partner and not me…”
“Andy…”
“Excuse me?”
“My name is Andy, sir.”
“Alright Andy, and drop the sir stuff. You can call me Kellen or Kel”
“Thank you…uhm…may I sit down for a moment?”
“Come on in.” Andy followed Kellen through the foyer into his deceptively sparse living room. He motioned for Andy to have a seat, which he did on the very edge of the couch, very uncomfortably. He took is back pack off and let it drop between his feet.
“The Ian Justyn case…”
“I thought that was closed.” Kellen didn’t bother to hide his contempt for that fact from his voice.
“You’re right, it is…and you’re right, nothing is adding up. That’s why I’ve come to you…”
“Have you brought this up to Balouche?”
“Everytime I try, he shoots me down, has a too easy solution or changes the subject.”
“I’ve known Peyton for a long time, and I think we can both agree that he’s never wrong, even though most of the time he is…”
“I really didn’t think much about it until I went in to do the paperwork. He’d done it already.”
“Balouche? Did paperwork? That’s a red flag right there!”
“It was already typed, signed and filed by the time I had come in to get it done. I asked about it and he just said he thought I deserved a break and since he’d done most of the footwork himself…”
“Like that ever made him do paperwork before….” Kellen remembered all too well.
“Of course he left all the filing on our end to be done, which I went ahead and did, but I noticed he hadn’t made a copy for our files.”
“Probably didn’t even realize that that had to be done, the butt wipe.”
“That’s what I assumed, so I just went to Betty and asked her to make me a copy, which she did. Just for kicks while he was off bullshitting with someone about the stalker case he just solved, I read it over. It’s all pretty pat, and unquestionably supports his resolution.”
“So? Why are you coming to me? To rub it in my face?”
“Absolutely not. Kellen what’s in the report adds up, but it’s what’s left out that makes it add up…”
Kellen sat up. “Coffee, we need coffee and I need to put some pants on.”
“I can make the coffee while you dress.”
“Heard about my coffee, huh?”
“The facts just add up…”
Kellen sniggered. “Kitchen’s through there, I’ll be right back down…” Andy headed off toward the coffee maker and Kellen up the stairs to find pants and a shirt. He picked the jeans that he had wadded up off the floor and shucked them on. He sniffed his tee before pushing his arms through, but decided that a new shirt was in order. He pulled open the top drawer
Vignette #156: Percodan Drips
By the time Ian was returned to his room, he was in serious need of that Percodan drip. He was surprised at the ease in which he was brought back. He had to admit he was half disappointed he wasn’t handcuffed or at least grilled by the cops under a swinging naked light bulb.
He was simply wheeled back to his room, and hooked back up to the machines. They did take his pants though. As the Percodan began to take effect he wondered if people snuck out of the hospital a lot.
“You should have seen him, Miss Tippy…” Ripley gushed from his post.
“Oh honey, we did! They broke into regular programming on most stations. It was big news…”
“Slow news day…” Ian mumbled.
“Baby Doll, they way they put things before it started…if I didn’t know you were on your way, I would have been bawling my eyes out. They made it seem like they were waiting to announce that you had passed…”
“Probably how Kent got everyone to pay attention so quickly…” Ripley growled.
“You could even hear most of the hospital cheering as soon as we could see you walking up to the podium…ooh it just sent chills up and down my spine!”
“The look on Kent’s face was unmistakable when he saw you standing there!” Jesse laughed. “Bet they’ll never get the stains out of his shorts!”
“I’m glad you think this incident was funny!” The doctor had arrived and he was taking no prisoners.
“That’s my cue for coffee…” Jesse slipped out.
“Chicken!” Tippy yelled after him.
“Young man, I should have you and your cohorts arrested for the mockery you made of this hospital. You’re lack of respect is most unforgivable.”
“Mmmm…sorry…dock…” Ian was trying hard not to enjoy the Percidan drip while being chastised, but it was just too good.
“You may have just set your recovery back quite some time!” The doctor demanded. “Are they’re anymore musketeers unaccounted for?”
“Just…” Ian started to add.
“Shut up.” Tippy interrupted. She looked at the doctor. “There was one other, but she didn’t make it…” she bit her lip and hung her head.
The doctor cleared his throat. Tippy, Jesse and Ripley all started speaking and explaining at once. Ian just started humming “You Light Up My Life.”
“Okay! Okay! Enough!” The doctor threw up his hands. “Fortunately for you, I saw the conference, too. I’m not sure what was going on or why but Mr. Justyn you did a very brave, however stupid, thing. I trust the antics are all over with?”
Everyone nodded, except for Ian who wanted to know what ever happened to Debby Boone.
“Everyone will be following hospital policies at all times?”
Everyone nodded except for Ian, who wanted to know if he was wearing undergarments. Tippy patted him on the good thigh and said, “No honey, but that’s the way we like it…Doctor we promise to be good, we don’t I guarantee him!” She pointed at Ian.
“He’s a troublemaker all right!” The doctor grinned. “Doctor Evans, the physical therapist will be in later today to start set up a little physical therapy for him.”
“Good.” Tippy smiled looking at Ian who was checking to see if he had on underwear.
“Doctor I think that drip may be a teensy bit too high…” Tippy added.
“I’ll have a nurse double check in a moment.” The doctor swept his eyes around everyone in the room. “Shenanigans are over, and I expect company to be limited to three per bed. Understand?”
“Company? I love that show!” Ian replied and launched into “Being Alive”.
“Honey…” Tippy looked down at Ian.
“Somebody sweeten my coffee…” Ian sang.
“Baby Doll!” she slapped his bruised thigh. “Concerts over…quiet time.”
“Oh, thank you.” Ian whispered.
Reese and Billy entered the room. “I see the Dalton gang has reformed.”
“Shhhh! Quiet time!” Ian scolded.
Billy chuckled.
Ian peeked down his hospital gown. “I’m not wearing underwear, wanna see?”
“Uh…” Billy looked little frightened. “I’ll just stay right here, thanks though…” he sat on the bed.
“I better have a look at that drip.” The doctor stepped back to the bag and looked closely at the label and the clip. “Oh shit…”
Tippy grew concerned. “Is there a problem…?”
“No, Ms. Shores. I’ve got it under control now.” The doctor disconnected the bag from the spout going into Ian’s arm and pressed the buzzer on the wall. “Nurse get in here. Now!”
“Doctor, you are scaring me…” Tippy put her hand to her throat.
“I assure you, everything is under control. Unfortunately the little nozzle here…” He pointed to the bag and carefully tried to explain in terms she would understand. “Seems to be malfunctioning. It’s giving twice the normal dose, hence our little singer….”
The nurse entered. “Take this and….” He launched into some heavily technical stuff very calmly which was the only thing keeping Tippy from ripping his balls off. The doctor turned back to Tippy as he held up a bottle, sticking it with a needle and pulling back the plunger drawing some fluid into it.
“I’m just going to give some of this to Mr. Justyn, it will counter act the build up. He’s going to be uncomfortable for awhile, just until we can make sure that any possible overdose has been flushed from his system.”
The doctor attached the needle to the plug stuck in Ian’s hand and evenly pushed the plunger forward. “He should be more coherent and back to normal very quickly.”
The doctor explained what might have happened and when Tippy inquired if it was something that they could have done he assured her that it was a manufacturer’s error and that the nurse would be checking the entire stock and alerting other hospitals to the possibility.
By the time everyone was soothed, Ian hung his head and moaned, "I am so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be silly, Baby Doll. You aren’t the one wearing baggy faded boxer shorts.” Tippy said.
“Apparently, you’re not wearing any under shorts at all…” Billy added with a smile.
“If I wasn’t all tied up here I’d hide under the covers.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Billy chuckled.
“Well, I will see you in the morning.” The doctor bid adieu and took Tippy’s hand. “We’ll be keeping a close eye on Mr. Justyn, just to make sure there is no further reaction.”
“Thanks. You have a good night.”
Before leaving the room he turned to the small group. “Don’t let him talk you into anything.”
Tippy walked over to a drawer and opened it, taking out a pair of blue flannel pants. She walked over to Reese handed them to him. “Here, honey, Colton brought these for Ian see if you can get these on him. That thigh is still swollen but he’ll be a little more comfortable if we can slip them on him.”
“Thank you, Tippy. I appreciate it.” Ian said as Reese and Jesse tried to maneuver him enough to get pants on him.
The conversations came and went. Although very uncomfortable, Ian enjoyed his family and friends. At various times through the rest of the afternoon and the early evening it seemed like everyone Ian had met came in to say hello, all gushing about the news conference and commenting on the constant barrage of network coverage. Jeremy had a get well card that the boys had made him, and Ian had it put on a cabinet at the foot of his bed where he could see it constantly.
Finally a nurse came in and ran everyone out. Ian smiled and joked, but it was easy to see that he was overwhelmed by the parade that had come and gone. It had begun to rain. While his disposition was cheerful, Ian felt as cold and streaked as the rain.
At least when Dr. Evans came by he told them all that he needed Ian to be a little more mobile. That he could start going to the bathroom by himself, as long as someone helped him walk there and back.
That perked Ian up somewhat. He hated the bedpan, but less than the catheter. He felt dirty and grimy, and realized that other than some quick sponging by people who spoke no English he hadn’t had a real bath since Saturday morning. It was now Wednesday night. He wondered if the whole world could smell him.
Now he finally had a minute to himself. It still all seemed like a dream. He had so little growing up; it seemed that everything was in his head. Now that things were different, it just couldn’t fathom that it was all real. One thing for sure, it was all so fragile.
So much had changed, and still so little. He finally had a home, one that was all his. He had a great job, one that paid him big bucks to be creative and encourage creativity in others. He even had friends and family. Even his little boy was finally truly his little boy.
One thing still hadn’t changed. He looked out the window. The sun was gone and the moon signified the end of the old day. That new day had come and gone, and Ian was still alone.
He was simply wheeled back to his room, and hooked back up to the machines. They did take his pants though. As the Percodan began to take effect he wondered if people snuck out of the hospital a lot.
“You should have seen him, Miss Tippy…” Ripley gushed from his post.
“Oh honey, we did! They broke into regular programming on most stations. It was big news…”
“Slow news day…” Ian mumbled.
“Baby Doll, they way they put things before it started…if I didn’t know you were on your way, I would have been bawling my eyes out. They made it seem like they were waiting to announce that you had passed…”
“Probably how Kent got everyone to pay attention so quickly…” Ripley growled.
“You could even hear most of the hospital cheering as soon as we could see you walking up to the podium…ooh it just sent chills up and down my spine!”
“The look on Kent’s face was unmistakable when he saw you standing there!” Jesse laughed. “Bet they’ll never get the stains out of his shorts!”
“I’m glad you think this incident was funny!” The doctor had arrived and he was taking no prisoners.
“That’s my cue for coffee…” Jesse slipped out.
“Chicken!” Tippy yelled after him.
“Young man, I should have you and your cohorts arrested for the mockery you made of this hospital. You’re lack of respect is most unforgivable.”
“Mmmm…sorry…dock…” Ian was trying hard not to enjoy the Percidan drip while being chastised, but it was just too good.
“You may have just set your recovery back quite some time!” The doctor demanded. “Are they’re anymore musketeers unaccounted for?”
“Just…” Ian started to add.
“Shut up.” Tippy interrupted. She looked at the doctor. “There was one other, but she didn’t make it…” she bit her lip and hung her head.
The doctor cleared his throat. Tippy, Jesse and Ripley all started speaking and explaining at once. Ian just started humming “You Light Up My Life.”
“Okay! Okay! Enough!” The doctor threw up his hands. “Fortunately for you, I saw the conference, too. I’m not sure what was going on or why but Mr. Justyn you did a very brave, however stupid, thing. I trust the antics are all over with?”
Everyone nodded, except for Ian who wanted to know what ever happened to Debby Boone.
“Everyone will be following hospital policies at all times?”
Everyone nodded except for Ian, who wanted to know if he was wearing undergarments. Tippy patted him on the good thigh and said, “No honey, but that’s the way we like it…Doctor we promise to be good, we don’t I guarantee him!” She pointed at Ian.
“He’s a troublemaker all right!” The doctor grinned. “Doctor Evans, the physical therapist will be in later today to start set up a little physical therapy for him.”
“Good.” Tippy smiled looking at Ian who was checking to see if he had on underwear.
“Doctor I think that drip may be a teensy bit too high…” Tippy added.
“I’ll have a nurse double check in a moment.” The doctor swept his eyes around everyone in the room. “Shenanigans are over, and I expect company to be limited to three per bed. Understand?”
“Company? I love that show!” Ian replied and launched into “Being Alive”.
“Honey…” Tippy looked down at Ian.
“Somebody sweeten my coffee…” Ian sang.
“Baby Doll!” she slapped his bruised thigh. “Concerts over…quiet time.”
“Oh, thank you.” Ian whispered.
Reese and Billy entered the room. “I see the Dalton gang has reformed.”
“Shhhh! Quiet time!” Ian scolded.
Billy chuckled.
Ian peeked down his hospital gown. “I’m not wearing underwear, wanna see?”
“Uh…” Billy looked little frightened. “I’ll just stay right here, thanks though…” he sat on the bed.
“I better have a look at that drip.” The doctor stepped back to the bag and looked closely at the label and the clip. “Oh shit…”
Tippy grew concerned. “Is there a problem…?”
“No, Ms. Shores. I’ve got it under control now.” The doctor disconnected the bag from the spout going into Ian’s arm and pressed the buzzer on the wall. “Nurse get in here. Now!”
“Doctor, you are scaring me…” Tippy put her hand to her throat.
“I assure you, everything is under control. Unfortunately the little nozzle here…” He pointed to the bag and carefully tried to explain in terms she would understand. “Seems to be malfunctioning. It’s giving twice the normal dose, hence our little singer….”
The nurse entered. “Take this and….” He launched into some heavily technical stuff very calmly which was the only thing keeping Tippy from ripping his balls off. The doctor turned back to Tippy as he held up a bottle, sticking it with a needle and pulling back the plunger drawing some fluid into it.
“I’m just going to give some of this to Mr. Justyn, it will counter act the build up. He’s going to be uncomfortable for awhile, just until we can make sure that any possible overdose has been flushed from his system.”
The doctor attached the needle to the plug stuck in Ian’s hand and evenly pushed the plunger forward. “He should be more coherent and back to normal very quickly.”
The doctor explained what might have happened and when Tippy inquired if it was something that they could have done he assured her that it was a manufacturer’s error and that the nurse would be checking the entire stock and alerting other hospitals to the possibility.
By the time everyone was soothed, Ian hung his head and moaned, "I am so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be silly, Baby Doll. You aren’t the one wearing baggy faded boxer shorts.” Tippy said.
“Apparently, you’re not wearing any under shorts at all…” Billy added with a smile.
“If I wasn’t all tied up here I’d hide under the covers.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Billy chuckled.
“Well, I will see you in the morning.” The doctor bid adieu and took Tippy’s hand. “We’ll be keeping a close eye on Mr. Justyn, just to make sure there is no further reaction.”
“Thanks. You have a good night.”
Before leaving the room he turned to the small group. “Don’t let him talk you into anything.”
Tippy walked over to a drawer and opened it, taking out a pair of blue flannel pants. She walked over to Reese handed them to him. “Here, honey, Colton brought these for Ian see if you can get these on him. That thigh is still swollen but he’ll be a little more comfortable if we can slip them on him.”
“Thank you, Tippy. I appreciate it.” Ian said as Reese and Jesse tried to maneuver him enough to get pants on him.
The conversations came and went. Although very uncomfortable, Ian enjoyed his family and friends. At various times through the rest of the afternoon and the early evening it seemed like everyone Ian had met came in to say hello, all gushing about the news conference and commenting on the constant barrage of network coverage. Jeremy had a get well card that the boys had made him, and Ian had it put on a cabinet at the foot of his bed where he could see it constantly.
Finally a nurse came in and ran everyone out. Ian smiled and joked, but it was easy to see that he was overwhelmed by the parade that had come and gone. It had begun to rain. While his disposition was cheerful, Ian felt as cold and streaked as the rain.
At least when Dr. Evans came by he told them all that he needed Ian to be a little more mobile. That he could start going to the bathroom by himself, as long as someone helped him walk there and back.
That perked Ian up somewhat. He hated the bedpan, but less than the catheter. He felt dirty and grimy, and realized that other than some quick sponging by people who spoke no English he hadn’t had a real bath since Saturday morning. It was now Wednesday night. He wondered if the whole world could smell him.
Now he finally had a minute to himself. It still all seemed like a dream. He had so little growing up; it seemed that everything was in his head. Now that things were different, it just couldn’t fathom that it was all real. One thing for sure, it was all so fragile.
So much had changed, and still so little. He finally had a home, one that was all his. He had a great job, one that paid him big bucks to be creative and encourage creativity in others. He even had friends and family. Even his little boy was finally truly his little boy.
One thing still hadn’t changed. He looked out the window. The sun was gone and the moon signified the end of the old day. That new day had come and gone, and Ian was still alone.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Chapter #32: Second Winds
By the time Ian was returned to his room, he was in serious need of that Percidan drip. He was surprised at the ease in which he was brought back. He had to admit he was half disappointed he wasn’t handcuffed or at least grilled by the cops under a swinging naked light bulb.
He was simply wheeled back to his room, and hooked back up to the machines. They did take his pants though. As the Percidan began to take effect he wondered if people snuck out of the hospital a lot.
“You should have seen him, Miss Tippy…” Ripley gushed from his post.
“Oh honey, we did! They broke into regular programming on most stations. It was big news…”
“Slow news day…” Ian mumbled.
“Baby Doll, they way they put things before it started…if I didn’t know you were on your way, I would have been bawling my eyes out. They made it seem like they were waiting to announce that you had passed…”
“Probably how Kent got everyone to pay attention so quickly…” Ripley growled.
“You could even hear most of the hospital cheering as soon as we could see you walking up to the podium…ooh it just sent chills up and down my spine!”
“The look on Kent’s face was unmistakable when he saw you standing there!” Jesse laughed. “Bet they’ll never get the stains out of his shorts!”
“I’m glad you think this incident was funny!” The doctor had arrived and he was taking no prisoners.
“That’s my cue for coffee…” Jesse slipped out.
“Chicken!” Tippy yelled after him.
“Young man, I should have you and your cohorts arrested for the mockery you made of this hospital. You’re lack of respect is most unforgivable.”
“Mmmm…sorry…dock…” Ian was trying hard not to enjoy the Percidan drip while being chastised, but it was just too good.
“You may have just set your recovery back quite some time!” The doctor demanded. “Are they’re anymore musketeers unaccounted for?”
“Just…” Ian started to add.
“Shut up.” Tippy interrupted. She looked at the doctor. “There was one other, but she didn’t make it…” she bit her lip and hung her head.
The doctor cleared his throat. Tippy, Jesse and Ripley all started speaking and explaining at once. Ian just started humming “You Light Up My Life.”
“Okay! Okay! Enough!” The doctor threw up his hands. “Fortunately for you, I saw the conference, too. I’m not sure what was going on or why but Mr. Justyn you did a very brave, however stupid, thing. I trust the antics are all over with?”
Everyone nodded, except for Ian who wanted to know what ever happened to Debby Boone.
“Everyone will be following hospital policies at all times?”
Everyone nodded except for Ian, who wanted to know if he was wearing undergarments. Tippy patted him on the good thigh and said, “No honey, but that’s the way we like it…Doctor we promise to be good, we don’t I guarantee him!” She pointed at Ian.
“He’s a troublemaker all right!” The doctor grinned. “Doctor Evans, the physical therapist will be in later today to start set up a little physical therapy for him.”
“Good.” Tippy smiled looking at Ian who was checking to see if he had on underwear.
“Doctor I think that drip may be a teensy bit too high…” Tippy added.
“I’ll have a nurse double check in a moment.” The doctor swept his eyes around everyone in the room. “Shenanigans are over, and I expect company to be limited to three per bed. Understand?”
“Company? I love that show!” Ian replied and launched into “Being Alive”.
“Honey…” Tippy looked down at Ian.
“Somebody sweeten my coffee…” Ian sang.
“Baby Doll!” she slapped his bruised thigh. “Concerts over…quiet time.”
“Oh, thank you.” Ian whispered.
Reese and Billy entered the room. “I see the Dalton gang has reformed.”
“Shhhh! Quiet time!” Ian scolded.
Billy chuckled.
Ian peeked down his hospital gown. “I’m not wearing underwear, wanna see?”
“Uh…” Billy looked little frightened. “I’ll just stay right here, thanks though…” he sat on the bed.
“I better have a look at that drip.” The doctor stepped back to the bag and looked closely at the label and the clip. “Oh shit…”
Tippy grew concerned. “Is there a problem…?”
“No, Ms. Shores. I’ve got it under control now.” The doctor disconnected the bag from the spout going into Ian’s arm and pressed the buzzer on the wall. “Nurse get in here. Now!”
“Doctor, you are scaring me…” Tippy put her hand to her throat.
“I assure you, everything is under control. Unfortunately the little nozzle here…” He pointed to the bag and carefully tried to explain in terms she would understand. “Seems to be malfunctioning. It’s giving twice the normal dose, hence our little singer….”
The nurse entered. “Take this and….” He launched into some heavily technical stuff very calmly which was the only thing keeping Tippy from ripping his balls off. The doctor turned back to Tippy as he held up a bottle, sticking it with a needle and pulling back the plunger drawing some fluid into it.
“I’m just going to give some of this to Mr. Justyn, it will counter act the build up. He’s going to be uncomfortable for awhile, just until we can make sure that any possible overdose has been flushed from his system.”
The doctor attached the needle to the plug stuck in Ian’s hand and evenly pushed the plunger forward. “He should be more coherent and back to normal very quickly.”
The doctor explained what might have happened and when Tippy inquired if it was something that they could have done he assured her that it was a manufacturer’s error and that the nurse would be checking the entire stock and alerting other hospitals to the possibility.
By the time everyone was soothed, Ian hung his head and moaned, "I am so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be silly, Baby Doll. You aren’t the one wearing baggy faded boxer shorts.” Tippy said.
“Apparently, you’re not wearing any under shorts at all…” Billy added with a smile.
“If I wasn’t all tied up here I’d hide under the covers.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Billy chuckled.
“Well, I will see you in the morning.” The doctor bid adieu and took Tippy’s hand. “We’ll be keeping a close eye on Mr. Justyn, just to make sure there is no further reaction.”
“Thanks. You have a good night.”
Before leaving the room he turned to the small group. “Don’t let him talk you into anything.”
Tippy walked over to a drawer and opened it, taking out a pair of blue flannel pants. She walked over to Reese handed them to him. “Here, honey, Colton brought these for Ian see if you can get these on him. That thigh is still swollen but he’ll be a little more comfortable if we can slip them on him.”
“Thank you, Tippy. I appreciate it.” Ian said as Reese and Jesse tried to maneuver him enough to get pants on him.
The conversations came and went. Although very uncomfortable, Ian enjoyed his family and friends. At various times through the rest of the afternoon and the early evening it seemed like everyone Ian had met came in to say hello, all gushing about the news conference and commenting on the constant barrage of network coverage. Jeremy had a get well card that the boys had made him, and Ian had it put on a cabinet at the foot of his bed where he could see it constantly.
Finally a nurse came in and ran everyone out. Ian smiled and joked, but it was easy to see that he was overwhelmed by the parade that had come and gone. It had begun to rain. While his disposition was cheerful, Ian felt as cold and streaked as the rain.
At least when Dr. Evans came by he told them all that he needed Ian to be a little more mobile. That he could start going to the bathroom by himself, as long as someone helped him walk there and back.
That perked Ian up somewhat. He hated the bedpan, but less than the catheter. He felt dirty and grimy, and realized that other than some quick sponging by people who spoke no English he hadn’t had a real bath since Saturday morning. It was now Wednesday night. He wondered if the whole world could smell him.
Now he finally had a minute to himself. It still all seemed like a dream. He had so little growing up; it seemed that everything was in his head. Now that things were different, it just couldn’t fathom that it was all real. One thing for sure, it was all so fragile.
So much had changed, and still so little. He finally had a home, one that was all his. He had a great job, one that paid him big bucks to be creative and encourage creativity in others. He even had friends and family. Even his little boy was finally truly his little boy.
One thing still hadn’t changed. He looked out the window. The sun was gone and the moon signified the end of the old day. That new day had come and gone, and Ian was still alone.
“That’s a good boy,” Kellen said squatting down and giving the dog a vigorous rub. “Did you take care of business?” He scratched Ralphie behind the ears and received a wet sloppy lick on the cheek in return before the dog bounded to his bed in the corner, made three circles and flopped down.
Kellen shut the doors tight, trying to not look at the mess that still made him shudder across the wall. He had pulled the curtains closed on the French doors so he couldn’t see. There would be time enough for that later, as he helped the cleaning crew and the neighbors try to piece it all back together.
He crawled back on his bed, on his back and waited for the sun to come up. He would take his turn guarding Ian at 8 a.m. Ripley had insisted on double shifts. The mountain of a man had taken such a shine to him.
He had told Kellen that Ian was the first big shot he’d ever met that treated him like a human and not a piece of furniture. The man even bawled when he first got a look at him in the hospital bed, all bloody and bruised and lifeless except for some ragged shallow breaths.
There were so many pieces that just didn’t fit. His gut told him that something just wasn’t right. Blue Richards had waited in that closet until the right time. He definitely intended to kill Ian, but why? And why did Peyton Balouche cover it up? What was the connection? Had HRT really pressured the police force into a more publicly acceptable outcome?
Blue Richards had waited in that closet for who knows how long. He could have grabbed whatever he wanted to steal and been long gone, but he had slipped in that closet well during the early evening, changed in to dark clothes so no one would recognize him and waited until he heard or saw Ian enter the bedroom alone. But why did he not want to be recognized if he hadn’t intended to kill him?
Semen on the ground, that’s what Peyton had told him they had found. It could have been from almost anyone at the party who decided to have a little tryst in the bushes. Kellen sat straight up in bed. The first pieces fit. Blue Richard had been watching Ian for days.
Of course, that would lend itself to the stalking aspect of the case. He would have to find out where Richards hiding place was. Kellen lay back down and his mind whirled. What if Ian was the target but not necessarily the intended victim? “That could be it,” He thought.
That still led back to the question of why and didn’t explain the connection with Balouche. Surely it wasn’t Balouche who set the whole thing up. Balouche would have known that Kellen would have come bounding over pistol drawn. Had he been the intended victim, Richards would have had to do some mighty fancy footwork to make it look like Ian had shot him in a jealous rage. Nope, that theory was out and there was still absolutely no connection between Balouche and Richards.
Kellen tried to put it all out of his head. He needed to get a little sleep. He rolled over on his belly and tried to relax. He put his head face down on the pillows and slid his arms under their coolness.
Wait! Was that his doorbell? Kellen snapped back from his thoughts and realized someone was at his front door. He looked outside.
It was still black. The sun hadn’t come up yet. He grabbed his underwear from the floor and quickly pulled them on. Ralphie got up from his bed and trotted downstairs as Kel reached for his robe and tied it around him.
He looked out the window. He didn’t recognize the car. Had something happened to Ian? He started to panic, and thought; no, Ripley would have called immediately. As he hit the first floor landing he looked through the peephole.
That guy from the police station—the partner—what was he doing here? At this time of the morning? Kellen flung open the front door. “Detective Mitchell? Is something wrong?”
“Officer Jackson, I am so sorry to bother you at this time of the night, but I wanted to make sure that no one knew I had come.”
“Well, you certainly picked a great hour.”
“Am I disturbing you, sir?’
“Actually, no. Having a little trouble getting to sleep…”
“I meant, are you alone?”
“Yes, of course.”
“May I come in? It’s important.”
Kellen motioned him in and the young man hesitantly stepped through to the foyer. He was dressed in jeans and a hooded tee, and had a backpack over his right shoulder.
“I didn’t know who else to go to, but something’s just not right, sir…”
“Listen, Detective Mitchell, if this is concerning a case, you should really be talking to your partner and not me…”
“Andy…”
“Excuse me?”
“My name is Andy, sir.”
“Alright Andy, and drop the sir stuff. You can call me Kellen or Kel”
“Thank you…uhm…may I sit down for a moment?”
“Come on in.” Andy followed Kellen through the foyer into his deceptively sparse living room. He motioned for Andy to have a seat, which he did on the very edge of the couch, very uncomfortably. He took is back pack off and let it drop between his feet.
“The Ian Justyn case…”
“I thought that was closed.” Kellen didn’t bother to hide his contempt for that fact from his voice.
“You’re right, it is…and you’re right, nothing is adding up. That’s why I’ve come to you…”
“Have you brought this up to Balouche?”
“Every time I try, he shoots me down, has a too easy solution or changes the subject.”
“I’ve known Peyton for a long time, and I think we can both agree that he’s never wrong, even though most of the time he is…”
“I really didn’t think much about it until I went in to do the paperwork. He’d done it already.”
“Balouche? Did paperwork? That’s a red flag right there!”
“It was already typed, signed and filed by the time I had come in to get it done. I asked about it and he just said he thought I deserved a break and since he’d done most of the footwork himself…”
“Like that ever made him do paperwork before….” Kellen remembered all too well.
“Of course he left all the filing on our end to be done, which I went ahead and did, but I noticed he hadn’t made a copy for our files.”
“Probably didn’t even realize that that had to be done, the butt wipe.”
“That’s what I assumed, so I just went to Betty and asked her to make me a copy, which she did. Just for kicks while he was off bullshitting with someone about the stalker case he just solved, I read it over. It’s all pretty pat, and unquestionably supports his resolution.”
“So? Why are you coming to me? To rub it in my face?”
“Absolutely not. Kellen what’s in the report adds up, but it’s what’s left out that makes it add up…”
Kellen sat up. “Coffee, we need coffee and I need to put some pants on.”
“I can make the coffee while you dress.”
“Heard about my coffee, huh?”
“The facts just add up…”
Kellen sniggered. “Kitchen’s through there, I’ll be right back down…” Andy headed off toward the coffee maker and Kellen up the stairs to find pants and a shirt. He picked the jeans that he had wadded up off the floor and shucked them on. He sniffed his tee before pushing his arms through, but decided that a new shirt was in order. He pulled open the top drawer.
Ella dared not moan. She wasn’t sure Bruno was gone yet. He had to believe she was dead. She kept going in and out of consciousness, so death wouldn’t be hard to fake for too much longer. She kept as still as possible in the cold and listened and prayed a while longer.
She’d gotten her licks in. He wouldn’t be able to hide the damage for at least a few days. When she first saw his feet she prepared herself by reaching into her shoulder bag and finding the scissors she had in there. When he grabbed her the first time she got him good in the fat of his forearm.
It slowed him down some, but the evil in the man just pumped in more adrenaline. She ran but he still managed to jump her and wrestle her to the ground. She took a few blows, but managed to ditch her purse in the tussle.
Hopefully he wouldn’t find it, unfortunately only some homeless guy would and nothing in it would have any value. Better ending up in the dump, than in his hands. Soon her letters would arrive, and eventually get to someone who would now have all they needed to stop Bruno.
She listened closely. She was alone. She took a well deserved deep, painful breath. She crawled to the alley wall and tried to stand. She couldn’t. She needed help. Ella reached for her cell phone.
Damn…it was in her purse. Help wasn’t coming. She had to do this herself. She struggled to stand. She got almost up and fell back to the ground.
It was over. She hadn’t made it to safety. Ella slid her head to the cold bloody cement. Nothing she could do now. If only she had said something to someone sooner, but she always had to do things herself.
“My bad.” She whispered to the dark, crisp morning air.
Ella started to drift off. In her head she ticked off everything she’d stored, right there under everyone’s nose. She’d sent the letter pointing to where everything was, cryptically of course just in case the wrong person got to it.
But she’d made the call. She knew her partner would be on his way. She trusted him. He’d find away to put it all together. Ella had gathered enough to put it all into place, all but the why. They’d have to figure that one out themselves.
Ella’s eyes popped open. “Oh my God!”
A last bit of energy surged. She knew why. She had known what they were planning but not exactly why. Maybe it was a guess. Maybe it was her own impending death, but it all made sense. It was the only thing that made sense.
Why hadn’t anyone known this before? It was so simple. They had covered it up so long ago, but one of the players had lied. It made everyone scramble in the wrong direction.
Ella had gathered all the evidence but none of it would make sense until they knew why, and she was the only one who had figured it out. Even the players didn’t realize it. Bruno was just guessing, but it his guess had hit dead center of the bullseye, and that wasn’t even what he was after.
She had to tell them. But how? She wasn’t going to live out the hour unless she got help. No help was in sight. There had to be a way.
Ella tried to push herself up again. Her fingers were slick with blood, most of it hers, but some of it his. She smiled and eased herself back down on the cement.
She wasn’t seeing too well, but she did the best she could. Using her fingers as a pen and her own blood as ink she scrawled a message she hoped no one could ignore. When she finished she pulled herself up, covering it with her back.
Ella was happy. She could ease gently into that goodnight now.
“I had a feeling you were faking it…” Ella barely had time to open her eyes before the man’s boot came at her forehead and crushed her skull against the wall.
He examined his work closely this time. There’s no way she was faking it now. Bruno ripped the sleeve off Ella’s blouse and wiped her blood off the sole of his boot. He tossed it in the trash when he was satisfied he wouldn’t leave footprints and chuckled as he left her body.
When he turned the corner, disappearing into the maze that would lead him to anonymity, Ella’s body fell to the side with a thud on the ground. Fresh blood and brain matter trickled down the brick mingling with the message she left.
But it was there, shouting over her body like a cartoon bubble, one word still readable…”Hutton”.
He exhaled, “Man, there is nothing like a decent cup of coffee.” Kellen said as he sipped his second cup.
“Guess you don’t have that when you’re forced to make your own.” Andy jested.
“Okay back to the drawing board, none of your notes are included in the file or in the paperwork?”
“Not unless they supported his version of the story. Look at this, here are copies of my notes included in the paperwork package, there are even numbered pages missing…”
“But there’s nothing other than good guesses that link him to Blue Richards or Ian Justyn or give any other reason why he’d be so anxious to close a case that he’d leave out details that would keep it open.”
“None.”
Kellen shifted through a few things. “Okay let’s go back to basics…next of kin?”
“Girlfriend, Ella Myerson, shared an apartment on Fifth and Greene.”
“Anyone speak with her?”
“Balouche and I. Seemed pretty shocked and afraid…I think she knows more than she let on.”
“Follow up?”
“None. Peyton didn’t see the need. I’ve slipped over twice myself. She’s gone… clothes…the whole thing. Didn’t even claim the body.”
“Lends itself to knows more than letting on, but still nothing concrete…wait a minute, how did you get the address and next of kin?”
Andy sat back in the chair, “I just assumed Balouche fished it out of the wallet…”
“And the wallet would be…?”
“No where to be found.” Andy sipped his coffee and thought a moment. “I guess that someone from the scene could have told him, didn’t the girlfriend work with Ian?”
Kellen nodded. “But I’m the only one who was conscious who knew that connection and I didn’t say anything. At that time I just assumed that Blue had a wallet on him or one close by. From the time Blue and Ella arrived, they pretty much went their separate ways. I never saw them together once.”
“And we never found any personal effects, although we assume that the socks and shoes he was wearing were his, everything else had been taken from Justyn’s closet. Sweats, shirt and ski mask all had Justyn’s name written with a laundry marker on the tag. Wasn’t wearing underwear.”
“It’s like he showed up naked…and he didn’t. I answered the door when he arrived. He was wearing khaki shorts and a blue button up. Of course the next time I saw him he was naked…in the Shores pool. That’s the last time I saw him…”
“What about her?”
“Sitting around with others while Ian had the power pow wow, haven’t seen her since then. How did you get to her apartment?”
“Balouche…said let’s go talk to next of kin, he drove, we arrived…”
“There’s your connection, Balouche had been there before…”
“But why?”
“Still a mystery…Richards worked as a bartender, but at a trendy night club, if Balouche had ever been there I’d have known about it.”
“I’ve never been there either, but I swear I’ve seen him somewhere before…just can’t put my finger on it though…”
“When you remember it may be nothing….”
Andy looked down at his feet. “I need to ask a personal question….”
“Shoot...”
“You and Balouche…from what you said at the station, you guys had a personal relationship that went sour?”
Kellen laughed. “Sorry, but that’s putting it mildly. Let’s say our wives had a very close relationship for a little over a year. Our wives are still a couple…”
“Is it possible that Balouche has been stalking you?”
“Very doubtful…”
“Why?”
“Because my dog hates his guts. Growls and tries to bite him anytime he’s near. I can pretty much guarantee you that if his car pulled up in the driveway, Ralphie would start foaming at the mouth…”
“Thought maybe he’d been caught by Blue watching you when he was watching Ian…”
“We still don’t even know that for sure. Were DNA tests done on the semen?”
“Never saw any reports, in fact, never saw the area, was just told about it and saw it written in the report…”
“Could be as bogus as the report then…”
“Could be…”
“I’ve got to get to the hospital. My turn to stand guard….”
“You’re with me on this then…”
“Absolutely. Let’s keep quietly digging on our own. We’ll meet up on the sly and exchange notes and theories. Maybe together we can figure this out quickly.
He was simply wheeled back to his room, and hooked back up to the machines. They did take his pants though. As the Percidan began to take effect he wondered if people snuck out of the hospital a lot.
“You should have seen him, Miss Tippy…” Ripley gushed from his post.
“Oh honey, we did! They broke into regular programming on most stations. It was big news…”
“Slow news day…” Ian mumbled.
“Baby Doll, they way they put things before it started…if I didn’t know you were on your way, I would have been bawling my eyes out. They made it seem like they were waiting to announce that you had passed…”
“Probably how Kent got everyone to pay attention so quickly…” Ripley growled.
“You could even hear most of the hospital cheering as soon as we could see you walking up to the podium…ooh it just sent chills up and down my spine!”
“The look on Kent’s face was unmistakable when he saw you standing there!” Jesse laughed. “Bet they’ll never get the stains out of his shorts!”
“I’m glad you think this incident was funny!” The doctor had arrived and he was taking no prisoners.
“That’s my cue for coffee…” Jesse slipped out.
“Chicken!” Tippy yelled after him.
“Young man, I should have you and your cohorts arrested for the mockery you made of this hospital. You’re lack of respect is most unforgivable.”
“Mmmm…sorry…dock…” Ian was trying hard not to enjoy the Percidan drip while being chastised, but it was just too good.
“You may have just set your recovery back quite some time!” The doctor demanded. “Are they’re anymore musketeers unaccounted for?”
“Just…” Ian started to add.
“Shut up.” Tippy interrupted. She looked at the doctor. “There was one other, but she didn’t make it…” she bit her lip and hung her head.
The doctor cleared his throat. Tippy, Jesse and Ripley all started speaking and explaining at once. Ian just started humming “You Light Up My Life.”
“Okay! Okay! Enough!” The doctor threw up his hands. “Fortunately for you, I saw the conference, too. I’m not sure what was going on or why but Mr. Justyn you did a very brave, however stupid, thing. I trust the antics are all over with?”
Everyone nodded, except for Ian who wanted to know what ever happened to Debby Boone.
“Everyone will be following hospital policies at all times?”
Everyone nodded except for Ian, who wanted to know if he was wearing undergarments. Tippy patted him on the good thigh and said, “No honey, but that’s the way we like it…Doctor we promise to be good, we don’t I guarantee him!” She pointed at Ian.
“He’s a troublemaker all right!” The doctor grinned. “Doctor Evans, the physical therapist will be in later today to start set up a little physical therapy for him.”
“Good.” Tippy smiled looking at Ian who was checking to see if he had on underwear.
“Doctor I think that drip may be a teensy bit too high…” Tippy added.
“I’ll have a nurse double check in a moment.” The doctor swept his eyes around everyone in the room. “Shenanigans are over, and I expect company to be limited to three per bed. Understand?”
“Company? I love that show!” Ian replied and launched into “Being Alive”.
“Honey…” Tippy looked down at Ian.
“Somebody sweeten my coffee…” Ian sang.
“Baby Doll!” she slapped his bruised thigh. “Concerts over…quiet time.”
“Oh, thank you.” Ian whispered.
Reese and Billy entered the room. “I see the Dalton gang has reformed.”
“Shhhh! Quiet time!” Ian scolded.
Billy chuckled.
Ian peeked down his hospital gown. “I’m not wearing underwear, wanna see?”
“Uh…” Billy looked little frightened. “I’ll just stay right here, thanks though…” he sat on the bed.
“I better have a look at that drip.” The doctor stepped back to the bag and looked closely at the label and the clip. “Oh shit…”
Tippy grew concerned. “Is there a problem…?”
“No, Ms. Shores. I’ve got it under control now.” The doctor disconnected the bag from the spout going into Ian’s arm and pressed the buzzer on the wall. “Nurse get in here. Now!”
“Doctor, you are scaring me…” Tippy put her hand to her throat.
“I assure you, everything is under control. Unfortunately the little nozzle here…” He pointed to the bag and carefully tried to explain in terms she would understand. “Seems to be malfunctioning. It’s giving twice the normal dose, hence our little singer….”
The nurse entered. “Take this and….” He launched into some heavily technical stuff very calmly which was the only thing keeping Tippy from ripping his balls off. The doctor turned back to Tippy as he held up a bottle, sticking it with a needle and pulling back the plunger drawing some fluid into it.
“I’m just going to give some of this to Mr. Justyn, it will counter act the build up. He’s going to be uncomfortable for awhile, just until we can make sure that any possible overdose has been flushed from his system.”
The doctor attached the needle to the plug stuck in Ian’s hand and evenly pushed the plunger forward. “He should be more coherent and back to normal very quickly.”
The doctor explained what might have happened and when Tippy inquired if it was something that they could have done he assured her that it was a manufacturer’s error and that the nurse would be checking the entire stock and alerting other hospitals to the possibility.
By the time everyone was soothed, Ian hung his head and moaned, "I am so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be silly, Baby Doll. You aren’t the one wearing baggy faded boxer shorts.” Tippy said.
“Apparently, you’re not wearing any under shorts at all…” Billy added with a smile.
“If I wasn’t all tied up here I’d hide under the covers.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Billy chuckled.
“Well, I will see you in the morning.” The doctor bid adieu and took Tippy’s hand. “We’ll be keeping a close eye on Mr. Justyn, just to make sure there is no further reaction.”
“Thanks. You have a good night.”
Before leaving the room he turned to the small group. “Don’t let him talk you into anything.”
Tippy walked over to a drawer and opened it, taking out a pair of blue flannel pants. She walked over to Reese handed them to him. “Here, honey, Colton brought these for Ian see if you can get these on him. That thigh is still swollen but he’ll be a little more comfortable if we can slip them on him.”
“Thank you, Tippy. I appreciate it.” Ian said as Reese and Jesse tried to maneuver him enough to get pants on him.
The conversations came and went. Although very uncomfortable, Ian enjoyed his family and friends. At various times through the rest of the afternoon and the early evening it seemed like everyone Ian had met came in to say hello, all gushing about the news conference and commenting on the constant barrage of network coverage. Jeremy had a get well card that the boys had made him, and Ian had it put on a cabinet at the foot of his bed where he could see it constantly.
Finally a nurse came in and ran everyone out. Ian smiled and joked, but it was easy to see that he was overwhelmed by the parade that had come and gone. It had begun to rain. While his disposition was cheerful, Ian felt as cold and streaked as the rain.
At least when Dr. Evans came by he told them all that he needed Ian to be a little more mobile. That he could start going to the bathroom by himself, as long as someone helped him walk there and back.
That perked Ian up somewhat. He hated the bedpan, but less than the catheter. He felt dirty and grimy, and realized that other than some quick sponging by people who spoke no English he hadn’t had a real bath since Saturday morning. It was now Wednesday night. He wondered if the whole world could smell him.
Now he finally had a minute to himself. It still all seemed like a dream. He had so little growing up; it seemed that everything was in his head. Now that things were different, it just couldn’t fathom that it was all real. One thing for sure, it was all so fragile.
So much had changed, and still so little. He finally had a home, one that was all his. He had a great job, one that paid him big bucks to be creative and encourage creativity in others. He even had friends and family. Even his little boy was finally truly his little boy.
One thing still hadn’t changed. He looked out the window. The sun was gone and the moon signified the end of the old day. That new day had come and gone, and Ian was still alone.
“That’s a good boy,” Kellen said squatting down and giving the dog a vigorous rub. “Did you take care of business?” He scratched Ralphie behind the ears and received a wet sloppy lick on the cheek in return before the dog bounded to his bed in the corner, made three circles and flopped down.
Kellen shut the doors tight, trying to not look at the mess that still made him shudder across the wall. He had pulled the curtains closed on the French doors so he couldn’t see. There would be time enough for that later, as he helped the cleaning crew and the neighbors try to piece it all back together.
He crawled back on his bed, on his back and waited for the sun to come up. He would take his turn guarding Ian at 8 a.m. Ripley had insisted on double shifts. The mountain of a man had taken such a shine to him.
He had told Kellen that Ian was the first big shot he’d ever met that treated him like a human and not a piece of furniture. The man even bawled when he first got a look at him in the hospital bed, all bloody and bruised and lifeless except for some ragged shallow breaths.
There were so many pieces that just didn’t fit. His gut told him that something just wasn’t right. Blue Richards had waited in that closet until the right time. He definitely intended to kill Ian, but why? And why did Peyton Balouche cover it up? What was the connection? Had HRT really pressured the police force into a more publicly acceptable outcome?
Blue Richards had waited in that closet for who knows how long. He could have grabbed whatever he wanted to steal and been long gone, but he had slipped in that closet well during the early evening, changed in to dark clothes so no one would recognize him and waited until he heard or saw Ian enter the bedroom alone. But why did he not want to be recognized if he hadn’t intended to kill him?
Semen on the ground, that’s what Peyton had told him they had found. It could have been from almost anyone at the party who decided to have a little tryst in the bushes. Kellen sat straight up in bed. The first pieces fit. Blue Richard had been watching Ian for days.
Of course, that would lend itself to the stalking aspect of the case. He would have to find out where Richards hiding place was. Kellen lay back down and his mind whirled. What if Ian was the target but not necessarily the intended victim? “That could be it,” He thought.
That still led back to the question of why and didn’t explain the connection with Balouche. Surely it wasn’t Balouche who set the whole thing up. Balouche would have known that Kellen would have come bounding over pistol drawn. Had he been the intended victim, Richards would have had to do some mighty fancy footwork to make it look like Ian had shot him in a jealous rage. Nope, that theory was out and there was still absolutely no connection between Balouche and Richards.
Kellen tried to put it all out of his head. He needed to get a little sleep. He rolled over on his belly and tried to relax. He put his head face down on the pillows and slid his arms under their coolness.
Wait! Was that his doorbell? Kellen snapped back from his thoughts and realized someone was at his front door. He looked outside.
It was still black. The sun hadn’t come up yet. He grabbed his underwear from the floor and quickly pulled them on. Ralphie got up from his bed and trotted downstairs as Kel reached for his robe and tied it around him.
He looked out the window. He didn’t recognize the car. Had something happened to Ian? He started to panic, and thought; no, Ripley would have called immediately. As he hit the first floor landing he looked through the peephole.
That guy from the police station—the partner—what was he doing here? At this time of the morning? Kellen flung open the front door. “Detective Mitchell? Is something wrong?”
“Officer Jackson, I am so sorry to bother you at this time of the night, but I wanted to make sure that no one knew I had come.”
“Well, you certainly picked a great hour.”
“Am I disturbing you, sir?’
“Actually, no. Having a little trouble getting to sleep…”
“I meant, are you alone?”
“Yes, of course.”
“May I come in? It’s important.”
Kellen motioned him in and the young man hesitantly stepped through to the foyer. He was dressed in jeans and a hooded tee, and had a backpack over his right shoulder.
“I didn’t know who else to go to, but something’s just not right, sir…”
“Listen, Detective Mitchell, if this is concerning a case, you should really be talking to your partner and not me…”
“Andy…”
“Excuse me?”
“My name is Andy, sir.”
“Alright Andy, and drop the sir stuff. You can call me Kellen or Kel”
“Thank you…uhm…may I sit down for a moment?”
“Come on in.” Andy followed Kellen through the foyer into his deceptively sparse living room. He motioned for Andy to have a seat, which he did on the very edge of the couch, very uncomfortably. He took is back pack off and let it drop between his feet.
“The Ian Justyn case…”
“I thought that was closed.” Kellen didn’t bother to hide his contempt for that fact from his voice.
“You’re right, it is…and you’re right, nothing is adding up. That’s why I’ve come to you…”
“Have you brought this up to Balouche?”
“Every time I try, he shoots me down, has a too easy solution or changes the subject.”
“I’ve known Peyton for a long time, and I think we can both agree that he’s never wrong, even though most of the time he is…”
“I really didn’t think much about it until I went in to do the paperwork. He’d done it already.”
“Balouche? Did paperwork? That’s a red flag right there!”
“It was already typed, signed and filed by the time I had come in to get it done. I asked about it and he just said he thought I deserved a break and since he’d done most of the footwork himself…”
“Like that ever made him do paperwork before….” Kellen remembered all too well.
“Of course he left all the filing on our end to be done, which I went ahead and did, but I noticed he hadn’t made a copy for our files.”
“Probably didn’t even realize that that had to be done, the butt wipe.”
“That’s what I assumed, so I just went to Betty and asked her to make me a copy, which she did. Just for kicks while he was off bullshitting with someone about the stalker case he just solved, I read it over. It’s all pretty pat, and unquestionably supports his resolution.”
“So? Why are you coming to me? To rub it in my face?”
“Absolutely not. Kellen what’s in the report adds up, but it’s what’s left out that makes it add up…”
Kellen sat up. “Coffee, we need coffee and I need to put some pants on.”
“I can make the coffee while you dress.”
“Heard about my coffee, huh?”
“The facts just add up…”
Kellen sniggered. “Kitchen’s through there, I’ll be right back down…” Andy headed off toward the coffee maker and Kellen up the stairs to find pants and a shirt. He picked the jeans that he had wadded up off the floor and shucked them on. He sniffed his tee before pushing his arms through, but decided that a new shirt was in order. He pulled open the top drawer.
Ella dared not moan. She wasn’t sure Bruno was gone yet. He had to believe she was dead. She kept going in and out of consciousness, so death wouldn’t be hard to fake for too much longer. She kept as still as possible in the cold and listened and prayed a while longer.
She’d gotten her licks in. He wouldn’t be able to hide the damage for at least a few days. When she first saw his feet she prepared herself by reaching into her shoulder bag and finding the scissors she had in there. When he grabbed her the first time she got him good in the fat of his forearm.
It slowed him down some, but the evil in the man just pumped in more adrenaline. She ran but he still managed to jump her and wrestle her to the ground. She took a few blows, but managed to ditch her purse in the tussle.
Hopefully he wouldn’t find it, unfortunately only some homeless guy would and nothing in it would have any value. Better ending up in the dump, than in his hands. Soon her letters would arrive, and eventually get to someone who would now have all they needed to stop Bruno.
She listened closely. She was alone. She took a well deserved deep, painful breath. She crawled to the alley wall and tried to stand. She couldn’t. She needed help. Ella reached for her cell phone.
Damn…it was in her purse. Help wasn’t coming. She had to do this herself. She struggled to stand. She got almost up and fell back to the ground.
It was over. She hadn’t made it to safety. Ella slid her head to the cold bloody cement. Nothing she could do now. If only she had said something to someone sooner, but she always had to do things herself.
“My bad.” She whispered to the dark, crisp morning air.
Ella started to drift off. In her head she ticked off everything she’d stored, right there under everyone’s nose. She’d sent the letter pointing to where everything was, cryptically of course just in case the wrong person got to it.
But she’d made the call. She knew her partner would be on his way. She trusted him. He’d find away to put it all together. Ella had gathered enough to put it all into place, all but the why. They’d have to figure that one out themselves.
Ella’s eyes popped open. “Oh my God!”
A last bit of energy surged. She knew why. She had known what they were planning but not exactly why. Maybe it was a guess. Maybe it was her own impending death, but it all made sense. It was the only thing that made sense.
Why hadn’t anyone known this before? It was so simple. They had covered it up so long ago, but one of the players had lied. It made everyone scramble in the wrong direction.
Ella had gathered all the evidence but none of it would make sense until they knew why, and she was the only one who had figured it out. Even the players didn’t realize it. Bruno was just guessing, but it his guess had hit dead center of the bullseye, and that wasn’t even what he was after.
She had to tell them. But how? She wasn’t going to live out the hour unless she got help. No help was in sight. There had to be a way.
Ella tried to push herself up again. Her fingers were slick with blood, most of it hers, but some of it his. She smiled and eased herself back down on the cement.
She wasn’t seeing too well, but she did the best she could. Using her fingers as a pen and her own blood as ink she scrawled a message she hoped no one could ignore. When she finished she pulled herself up, covering it with her back.
Ella was happy. She could ease gently into that goodnight now.
“I had a feeling you were faking it…” Ella barely had time to open her eyes before the man’s boot came at her forehead and crushed her skull against the wall.
He examined his work closely this time. There’s no way she was faking it now. Bruno ripped the sleeve off Ella’s blouse and wiped her blood off the sole of his boot. He tossed it in the trash when he was satisfied he wouldn’t leave footprints and chuckled as he left her body.
When he turned the corner, disappearing into the maze that would lead him to anonymity, Ella’s body fell to the side with a thud on the ground. Fresh blood and brain matter trickled down the brick mingling with the message she left.
But it was there, shouting over her body like a cartoon bubble, one word still readable…”Hutton”.
He exhaled, “Man, there is nothing like a decent cup of coffee.” Kellen said as he sipped his second cup.
“Guess you don’t have that when you’re forced to make your own.” Andy jested.
“Okay back to the drawing board, none of your notes are included in the file or in the paperwork?”
“Not unless they supported his version of the story. Look at this, here are copies of my notes included in the paperwork package, there are even numbered pages missing…”
“But there’s nothing other than good guesses that link him to Blue Richards or Ian Justyn or give any other reason why he’d be so anxious to close a case that he’d leave out details that would keep it open.”
“None.”
Kellen shifted through a few things. “Okay let’s go back to basics…next of kin?”
“Girlfriend, Ella Myerson, shared an apartment on Fifth and Greene.”
“Anyone speak with her?”
“Balouche and I. Seemed pretty shocked and afraid…I think she knows more than she let on.”
“Follow up?”
“None. Peyton didn’t see the need. I’ve slipped over twice myself. She’s gone… clothes…the whole thing. Didn’t even claim the body.”
“Lends itself to knows more than letting on, but still nothing concrete…wait a minute, how did you get the address and next of kin?”
Andy sat back in the chair, “I just assumed Balouche fished it out of the wallet…”
“And the wallet would be…?”
“No where to be found.” Andy sipped his coffee and thought a moment. “I guess that someone from the scene could have told him, didn’t the girlfriend work with Ian?”
Kellen nodded. “But I’m the only one who was conscious who knew that connection and I didn’t say anything. At that time I just assumed that Blue had a wallet on him or one close by. From the time Blue and Ella arrived, they pretty much went their separate ways. I never saw them together once.”
“And we never found any personal effects, although we assume that the socks and shoes he was wearing were his, everything else had been taken from Justyn’s closet. Sweats, shirt and ski mask all had Justyn’s name written with a laundry marker on the tag. Wasn’t wearing underwear.”
“It’s like he showed up naked…and he didn’t. I answered the door when he arrived. He was wearing khaki shorts and a blue button up. Of course the next time I saw him he was naked…in the Shores pool. That’s the last time I saw him…”
“What about her?”
“Sitting around with others while Ian had the power pow wow, haven’t seen her since then. How did you get to her apartment?”
“Balouche…said let’s go talk to next of kin, he drove, we arrived…”
“There’s your connection, Balouche had been there before…”
“But why?”
“Still a mystery…Richards worked as a bartender, but at a trendy night club, if Balouche had ever been there I’d have known about it.”
“I’ve never been there either, but I swear I’ve seen him somewhere before…just can’t put my finger on it though…”
“When you remember it may be nothing….”
Andy looked down at his feet. “I need to ask a personal question….”
“Shoot...”
“You and Balouche…from what you said at the station, you guys had a personal relationship that went sour?”
Kellen laughed. “Sorry, but that’s putting it mildly. Let’s say our wives had a very close relationship for a little over a year. Our wives are still a couple…”
“Is it possible that Balouche has been stalking you?”
“Very doubtful…”
“Why?”
“Because my dog hates his guts. Growls and tries to bite him anytime he’s near. I can pretty much guarantee you that if his car pulled up in the driveway, Ralphie would start foaming at the mouth…”
“Thought maybe he’d been caught by Blue watching you when he was watching Ian…”
“We still don’t even know that for sure. Were DNA tests done on the semen?”
“Never saw any reports, in fact, never saw the area, was just told about it and saw it written in the report…”
“Could be as bogus as the report then…”
“Could be…”
“I’ve got to get to the hospital. My turn to stand guard….”
“You’re with me on this then…”
“Absolutely. Let’s keep quietly digging on our own. We’ll meet up on the sly and exchange notes and theories. Maybe together we can figure this out quickly.
Vignette #155: Winning Stuff
David Turner was standing to the side of the stage, already assembled were most of the executive team and several members of the board. Simon Kent was beaming as he walked to the podium. Lights popped and a silence filled the hallway.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman of the press. Thank you for gathering on such short notice. I will make this brief and then open the floor to questions…”
Ripley placed Ian on his feet, “Want me to carry you up there sir?’
“No.” Ronnie said. “We’re Justyn men. We always land on our feet.”
“He’s right, Ripley. It has to be of my own accord, even if I have to crawl up there.”
The quick exchange drew Kent’s attention and he made the mistake of turning to look, making the crowd in the pressroom look as well. There was an immediate hubbub and the applause began. David Turner walked over to Ian’s good side and put his arm around his waist.
“Damn you have big old balls…”
“You have no idea, sir…”
“Let’s do this together, shall we?” Turner handed Ripley his cane. The two men, one young and black and blue, one old and slightly off balance, walked to the podium to a thunderous standing ovation.
Kent at first refused to budge and attempted to talk over the din. Finally someone in the front row yelled “Get off the stage, loser!” and Kent lost his determination enough to be shoved aside by the strength of the two men.
The applause and the cheers continued. Turner released Ian and stepped back, taking Kent with him. Ian grasped the podium and glanced at the agendas. As standard, taped to the left on blue paper was an itemized itinerary of topics to announce. To the right was a pink sheet with factoids needed to answer possible questions. When he looked up, silence over took the room.
He was moved, almost to tears. He took a deep breath and counted to three. On three he smiled and addressed the auditorium. “Never park in someone else’s space.”
The press roared and cheered. Someone quieted them, by yelling, “Why are you even here?”
Ian held tried to hold up one hand, but realized that he’d lose his balance and fall on his face. Ripley, Turner and Ronnie stepped up quickly behind him, Ripley and Ronnie on each side to support him, and Turner to encourage him.
“Go ahead son, just take your time. You win. Enjoy it.”
“Let me address that first and then we’ll get into the agenda set for today. I am here strictly to set the record straight. There have been a lot of misconceptions and untruths whirling around about what has happened, my condition and my future with HRT. First and foremost, HRT is about the truth, and that is all we care about. As you can see, I am neither hovering near death’s door nor hightailing it out of town. I am here to stay, and at HRT as long as they see fit to have me.”
The crowd cheered. “I’ll answer as many questions as I can later. First let me just say with pride that HRT has just signed award winning newsman Pearce Warner to an exclusive five year deal.” Mr. Turner took a black felt tip and crossed that off the list.
“Effective in thirty days he will be anchoring our morning news program, covering live events and in depths news stories.” Another line checked.
“In addition, we will be adding the alive part back into “America Alive!” with a new format and the help of Mr. Warner, by broadcasting at least two thirds of each of the three hour program from various locations around America, even the world should events so call for it.”
Ian smiled as lights flashed and furious notes were taken. “All of this will be covered in full detail at the conference you were originally scheduled for, but since these were my babies, I have stolen…”
Ian looked down at Ronnie who giggled and then back up, “…a little time to have the privilege of announcing it myself, along with the confirmation that HRT does in fact have the broadcasting rights to the best selling trilogy “Blood Kisses” that will debut this fall as HRT newest daytime drama.”
Only one check to go. Ian started to skip it, but he watched Turner circle it. Turner nodded his head. Ian started to read and noticed one name had been replaced with another. Ian smiled as he reported, “I will open the floor for questions in just a moment, ladies and gentlemen, but first I ask Mr. Simon Kent to join me here.”
Simon sheepishly took a step toward the podium. “Don’t be shy Simon, this is your time!” He finally stood beside Ian at the podium.
Ian cleared his throat. “I close this brief agenda by announcing with sad heart that this morning David Turner accepted the resignation of Mr. Simon Kent, after many years with HRT, effective immediately so he can spend more time with his family.
Simon’s face turned red. “I most certainly…”
Ripley leaned over and whispered in his ear, “I’ve been promised your head on a spit, don’t make me do it here…”
“…leave HRT with sad heart. But it’s time I step aside and spent some quality time with my lovely wife and grand children while I am still healthy enough to enjoy it.”
“Members of the community…Mr. Simon Kent!” Ian said and began to applaud as best he could. The room joined in and Simon smiled graciously and bowed, as he turned to step back, Turner took his arm.
“You leave the building the moment this press conference is over and I’ll let you walk to your car. You will never under any circumstance return and I’ll have your personal items
delivered by the end of the day.”
Simon shook his head and stepped back into a stunned board and executive klatch. Ian turned back to the press. “Okay, you’ve got about fifteen minutes before I am seriously in need of a Percidan, so let’s go with the questions….”
“Is it true that Blue Richards intended to steal Darla Hutton’s diary from your possession?”
Ian laughed, “Sir, the only thing I know about Darla Hutton is that she was one of the founders of this network and I happen to live in a house built on what once was her property. We will probably never know what poor Blue’s intentions were.”
“So you did know the man?”
“I had met him once before and he was the boyfriend of one of my staff, which is why he was at a Saturday casual work day I was having at my home. Many of the people behind me were there as well.”
“But what was he after?”
“Ladies and gentlemen, I will make you a deal. I will always give you every true fact I know about any question you ask. Count on that. All I know about that night was I was getting ready for bed, waved at a neighbor whom I could see from my bedroom window. The next thing I knew I was being used as a human trampoline. You will have to check with the police on any other details. May we please move on to the business at hand?”
“Will HRT be doing any in depth studies of the Darla Hutton legacy?”
Ian chuckled, “Well, that’s sort of moving along. Let me answer that this way. HRT is the Darla Hutton legacy. Let every one else speculate and examine the urban myths. We will only deal with the honesty and quality that her work stands for…and I hope when we reveal our fall line up, you and the public will see that in our work and come home to us, where you belong…”
David Turner smiled, and patted Ian on the back.
“Speaking of the line up, what about the rest of the daytime schedule. If you stand for quality surely that stinker of a soap is gone…”
“Decisions have yet to be made on that, but thanks for picking at a sore spot. We will announce the rest of the daytime lineup with the fall line up. We think that by promoting it with our fall campaign you’ll understand our renewed vision of quality and excellence will speak for itself, and that our daytime line up is a continuing equally important part of the Hutton Redfield Turner legacy…”
More applause… Ian was on a roll. Ian could have gone on forever, but the high was broken by the sound of a siren. “Well, I think my ride is here and I pretty sure I’m in trouble….”
The press laughed. “We love you Ian!”
“Yeah, yeah, you say that now, but what will you print about me in the morning? Okay honesty time...as they get ready to haul me off and tie me back to that damned bed. I take full responsibility for my escape; I just had to set the record straight.”
Ian didn’t resist as a stretcher was brought up to the podium and he was helped on to it. As two EMT’s pushed him off the stage he grabbed Kent’s tie and pulled him down to his face.
Ronnie put his hands on the tie and yanked Simon Kent until they were nose to nose. “You ever mess with my Papa again and you answer to me! Got it?”
Kent’s eyes got large as his face turned blue. Ronnie yanked the tie again. “I said, got it mister?”
Kent gurgled affirmatively and Ronnie let his grip go. Simon put his hands on his knees and gasped for air only to find he had put himself face to face with Ian, who grinned.
“Get ready cause this hayseed has just begun to dig. I’m getting to the bottom of this and I don’t care who hangs in the wake, as long as you’re fat ass gets burned.” Ian patted him on the cheek and he was hauled out to the ambulance to applause and cheers that could be heard as Ripley and Ronnie climbed in with him and the vehicle zoomed back to the hospital.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman of the press. Thank you for gathering on such short notice. I will make this brief and then open the floor to questions…”
Ripley placed Ian on his feet, “Want me to carry you up there sir?’
“No.” Ronnie said. “We’re Justyn men. We always land on our feet.”
“He’s right, Ripley. It has to be of my own accord, even if I have to crawl up there.”
The quick exchange drew Kent’s attention and he made the mistake of turning to look, making the crowd in the pressroom look as well. There was an immediate hubbub and the applause began. David Turner walked over to Ian’s good side and put his arm around his waist.
“Damn you have big old balls…”
“You have no idea, sir…”
“Let’s do this together, shall we?” Turner handed Ripley his cane. The two men, one young and black and blue, one old and slightly off balance, walked to the podium to a thunderous standing ovation.
Kent at first refused to budge and attempted to talk over the din. Finally someone in the front row yelled “Get off the stage, loser!” and Kent lost his determination enough to be shoved aside by the strength of the two men.
The applause and the cheers continued. Turner released Ian and stepped back, taking Kent with him. Ian grasped the podium and glanced at the agendas. As standard, taped to the left on blue paper was an itemized itinerary of topics to announce. To the right was a pink sheet with factoids needed to answer possible questions. When he looked up, silence over took the room.
He was moved, almost to tears. He took a deep breath and counted to three. On three he smiled and addressed the auditorium. “Never park in someone else’s space.”
The press roared and cheered. Someone quieted them, by yelling, “Why are you even here?”
Ian held tried to hold up one hand, but realized that he’d lose his balance and fall on his face. Ripley, Turner and Ronnie stepped up quickly behind him, Ripley and Ronnie on each side to support him, and Turner to encourage him.
“Go ahead son, just take your time. You win. Enjoy it.”
“Let me address that first and then we’ll get into the agenda set for today. I am here strictly to set the record straight. There have been a lot of misconceptions and untruths whirling around about what has happened, my condition and my future with HRT. First and foremost, HRT is about the truth, and that is all we care about. As you can see, I am neither hovering near death’s door nor hightailing it out of town. I am here to stay, and at HRT as long as they see fit to have me.”
The crowd cheered. “I’ll answer as many questions as I can later. First let me just say with pride that HRT has just signed award winning newsman Pearce Warner to an exclusive five year deal.” Mr. Turner took a black felt tip and crossed that off the list.
“Effective in thirty days he will be anchoring our morning news program, covering live events and in depths news stories.” Another line checked.
“In addition, we will be adding the alive part back into “America Alive!” with a new format and the help of Mr. Warner, by broadcasting at least two thirds of each of the three hour program from various locations around America, even the world should events so call for it.”
Ian smiled as lights flashed and furious notes were taken. “All of this will be covered in full detail at the conference you were originally scheduled for, but since these were my babies, I have stolen…”
Ian looked down at Ronnie who giggled and then back up, “…a little time to have the privilege of announcing it myself, along with the confirmation that HRT does in fact have the broadcasting rights to the best selling trilogy “Blood Kisses” that will debut this fall as HRT newest daytime drama.”
Only one check to go. Ian started to skip it, but he watched Turner circle it. Turner nodded his head. Ian started to read and noticed one name had been replaced with another. Ian smiled as he reported, “I will open the floor for questions in just a moment, ladies and gentlemen, but first I ask Mr. Simon Kent to join me here.”
Simon sheepishly took a step toward the podium. “Don’t be shy Simon, this is your time!” He finally stood beside Ian at the podium.
Ian cleared his throat. “I close this brief agenda by announcing with sad heart that this morning David Turner accepted the resignation of Mr. Simon Kent, after many years with HRT, effective immediately so he can spend more time with his family.
Simon’s face turned red. “I most certainly…”
Ripley leaned over and whispered in his ear, “I’ve been promised your head on a spit, don’t make me do it here…”
“…leave HRT with sad heart. But it’s time I step aside and spent some quality time with my lovely wife and grand children while I am still healthy enough to enjoy it.”
“Members of the community…Mr. Simon Kent!” Ian said and began to applaud as best he could. The room joined in and Simon smiled graciously and bowed, as he turned to step back, Turner took his arm.
“You leave the building the moment this press conference is over and I’ll let you walk to your car. You will never under any circumstance return and I’ll have your personal items
delivered by the end of the day.”
Simon shook his head and stepped back into a stunned board and executive klatch. Ian turned back to the press. “Okay, you’ve got about fifteen minutes before I am seriously in need of a Percidan, so let’s go with the questions….”
“Is it true that Blue Richards intended to steal Darla Hutton’s diary from your possession?”
Ian laughed, “Sir, the only thing I know about Darla Hutton is that she was one of the founders of this network and I happen to live in a house built on what once was her property. We will probably never know what poor Blue’s intentions were.”
“So you did know the man?”
“I had met him once before and he was the boyfriend of one of my staff, which is why he was at a Saturday casual work day I was having at my home. Many of the people behind me were there as well.”
“But what was he after?”
“Ladies and gentlemen, I will make you a deal. I will always give you every true fact I know about any question you ask. Count on that. All I know about that night was I was getting ready for bed, waved at a neighbor whom I could see from my bedroom window. The next thing I knew I was being used as a human trampoline. You will have to check with the police on any other details. May we please move on to the business at hand?”
“Will HRT be doing any in depth studies of the Darla Hutton legacy?”
Ian chuckled, “Well, that’s sort of moving along. Let me answer that this way. HRT is the Darla Hutton legacy. Let every one else speculate and examine the urban myths. We will only deal with the honesty and quality that her work stands for…and I hope when we reveal our fall line up, you and the public will see that in our work and come home to us, where you belong…”
David Turner smiled, and patted Ian on the back.
“Speaking of the line up, what about the rest of the daytime schedule. If you stand for quality surely that stinker of a soap is gone…”
“Decisions have yet to be made on that, but thanks for picking at a sore spot. We will announce the rest of the daytime lineup with the fall line up. We think that by promoting it with our fall campaign you’ll understand our renewed vision of quality and excellence will speak for itself, and that our daytime line up is a continuing equally important part of the Hutton Redfield Turner legacy…”
More applause… Ian was on a roll. Ian could have gone on forever, but the high was broken by the sound of a siren. “Well, I think my ride is here and I pretty sure I’m in trouble….”
The press laughed. “We love you Ian!”
“Yeah, yeah, you say that now, but what will you print about me in the morning? Okay honesty time...as they get ready to haul me off and tie me back to that damned bed. I take full responsibility for my escape; I just had to set the record straight.”
Ian didn’t resist as a stretcher was brought up to the podium and he was helped on to it. As two EMT’s pushed him off the stage he grabbed Kent’s tie and pulled him down to his face.
Ronnie put his hands on the tie and yanked Simon Kent until they were nose to nose. “You ever mess with my Papa again and you answer to me! Got it?”
Kent’s eyes got large as his face turned blue. Ronnie yanked the tie again. “I said, got it mister?”
Kent gurgled affirmatively and Ronnie let his grip go. Simon put his hands on his knees and gasped for air only to find he had put himself face to face with Ian, who grinned.
“Get ready cause this hayseed has just begun to dig. I’m getting to the bottom of this and I don’t care who hangs in the wake, as long as you’re fat ass gets burned.” Ian patted him on the cheek and he was hauled out to the ambulance to applause and cheers that could be heard as Ripley and Ronnie climbed in with him and the vehicle zoomed back to the hospital.
Vignette #154: Dirty Stuff
This time Wella’s purse began to jiggle. “I forgot to turn this thing off…” She found the jangling casing and started to turn it off. “Trish? What would she be calling me for…” she flipped open the phone. “Trish…actually I’m standing by his…okay, hold on…” she held the phone out to Ian, “she needs to talk to you, says it’s an emergency.”
Ian took the phone, and heard a joyous, “Is that you asshole?”
Ian responded with an equally loving, “Alive and well, bitch…”
“Yeah, yeah, love you too. Look trouble is no longer brewing, the witch has cast the spell…”
“Okay, Trish, too many drugs in my system to interpret…”
“Simon Kent has quietly alerted the press that he has a special announcement to make as soon as the press gets assembled.”
“What for?”
“You owe me BIG for this one. He waited until he was sure that Turner, the board and everyone else was busy putting last minute touches on the fall schedule conference. The press conference is to announce the cancellation of “Sebastian Manor”, the addition of one hour to “America Alive” sans Pierce Warner and the sad announcement that HRT is respectfully honoring your wishes and releasing you from your duties effective immediately.”
“That son of a bitch!”
“He is no child of mine!”
“Alright, I am on my way. Tell Blake to call David Turner…”
“David Turner…”
“Just have Blake call him and you explain what’s going on, hopefully he’ll arrive in time to stop this…now make that call!” He handed the phone back to Wella. “You got a car?”
She nodded her head. “Go fire it up, pull it out front and wait for me to figure out how to get to it…”
“Oh no, I’m not helping you escape not for any reason!’
“Wella, as we speak the employee of the month, Simon Kent, has called a press conference behind Davis Turner’s back to announce among other things my termination, at my request no less, effective immediately!”
“I’ll get the car.” She started to head toward the door. She fished in her purse and tossed Ian a second cell phone. “Here I found one you left office. I figured someone found the other by now and confiscated it.”
“Ripley! I need you!” Was all Ian had to say and the man was at his bedside like Dudley Do right of the Mounties.
“Yes, Mister Ian, sir.”
“No time to explain, just disconnect me and get me down to the car waiting out front.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Look I’ll give you a million dollars, just get me out of here. I’m coming back…I promise!’
Ripley put his mountainous arms on each side of Ian, pushed right into his face and growled, “You will not mess with me!”
“I am not messing with you…look…” Ian explained the situation as quickly as he could. He knew when he was half way through it and Ripley growled “I will break his neck” he was home free…then the cavalry arrived in the form of Tippy Shores.
“Where in the hell do you two think you are going, Baby Doll?” She demanded.
Ian started to explain, but Ripley put up his hand, “They are about to go behind Ian’s back and announce to the press that he’s being released from his contract immediately as per his own request. We have to get him to that press room.”
“No way!” Tippy said.
“Tippy, it’s a matter…”
“Save your breath, you’ll need cover. They are not just gonna let him carry you out of here and say come back as soon as you can. The moment that monitor slips off your finger all hell’s gonna break loose.”
She walked over to the far side of the bed. Okay hold still, Baby Doll, this is gonna hurt.” She pulled the needle out of the back of his hand that was attached to the drip bag.
“Shit!”
“Sorry. Okay….okay” She paced a bit. “We need another body, somehow.”
Just then Jesse walked in the door with Ronnie, who held a Styrofoam container that was steaming. “Jesse, Ian needs you. Get over here!”
“Huh?”
“Just do it!”
Tippy grabbed Jesse arm and drug him over to the far side of the bed. “Okay honey…this is so much fun, just like an episode of ‘Mission: Impossible’ I did. I still don’t now why they hired that Lesley Ann Warren as a regular and not me...oh well…hold your hand right like this Jesse.”
He did. “Okay, Baby Doll, on three you are almost home free…one...”
“What is going on?” Jesse demanded.
“Two…shut up sweetly I’ll explain later…three!” In less than a beat Tippy had switched the monitor clip from Ian’s finger to Jesse’s. “Okay, there is just that sweet man at the desk. Thank God m’gaydar didn’t go off on him. Give me two minutes; I’ll open the door when the coast is clear….Ronnie you run out and push the elevator button. When it opens hop inside and press the lobby button, but hold the door open until Mr. Ripley gets in there with your Papa.”
“Are we breakin’ Papa out?”
“Something like that, now scoot.”
Ronnie giggled and was off in a flash. Tippy stood at the door.
“Okay, Ronnie’s at the elevator. Ripley be ready on my signal. She headed for the door. “Wait!” She reached down the front of her dress and yanked out her bra. “There” she unhooked two top buttons and was gone.
“You ready, sir? I’ll be as gentle as I can.” Ripley hoisted Ian up off the bed effortlessly and headed toward the door.
It was less than a minute when the door was thrown open and Tippy whispered…”the elevator is open….run!”
Ripley ran almost effortlessly to the waiting elevator.
Ian looked down at Ronnie. “Okay, Puppy, when the door is open, run ahead and hold all the doors open for us.”
“You got it.” Ronnie agreed.
It wasn’t until Ripley was slipping Ian into the back seat of the car that people started yelling and running toward them. Ripley jumped in the front seat and Wella slammed on the gas before he even got the door shut. Ripley turned around and spoke to Ian. “You okay, boss?”
“Not bad.”
“You’re not gonna feel too fine, once your body starts to realize it doesn’t have a steady Percidan drip.”
“Let’s just concentrate on the neck your gonna break.”
Ripley turned around and slammed his fist into his palm.
Red lights were run and collisions barely avoided but somehow they all made it alive to the press room. Ripley gently picked up a shaken Ian and followed by Ronnie and Wella who pushed buttons ordered people to look out and finally guided them to two heavy double doors. She threw them open with all her might and like a twisted version of “Officer and a Gentleman”, Ripley carried Ian toward the already bright lights.
Ian took the phone, and heard a joyous, “Is that you asshole?”
Ian responded with an equally loving, “Alive and well, bitch…”
“Yeah, yeah, love you too. Look trouble is no longer brewing, the witch has cast the spell…”
“Okay, Trish, too many drugs in my system to interpret…”
“Simon Kent has quietly alerted the press that he has a special announcement to make as soon as the press gets assembled.”
“What for?”
“You owe me BIG for this one. He waited until he was sure that Turner, the board and everyone else was busy putting last minute touches on the fall schedule conference. The press conference is to announce the cancellation of “Sebastian Manor”, the addition of one hour to “America Alive” sans Pierce Warner and the sad announcement that HRT is respectfully honoring your wishes and releasing you from your duties effective immediately.”
“That son of a bitch!”
“He is no child of mine!”
“Alright, I am on my way. Tell Blake to call David Turner…”
“David Turner…”
“Just have Blake call him and you explain what’s going on, hopefully he’ll arrive in time to stop this…now make that call!” He handed the phone back to Wella. “You got a car?”
She nodded her head. “Go fire it up, pull it out front and wait for me to figure out how to get to it…”
“Oh no, I’m not helping you escape not for any reason!’
“Wella, as we speak the employee of the month, Simon Kent, has called a press conference behind Davis Turner’s back to announce among other things my termination, at my request no less, effective immediately!”
“I’ll get the car.” She started to head toward the door. She fished in her purse and tossed Ian a second cell phone. “Here I found one you left office. I figured someone found the other by now and confiscated it.”
“Ripley! I need you!” Was all Ian had to say and the man was at his bedside like Dudley Do right of the Mounties.
“Yes, Mister Ian, sir.”
“No time to explain, just disconnect me and get me down to the car waiting out front.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Look I’ll give you a million dollars, just get me out of here. I’m coming back…I promise!’
Ripley put his mountainous arms on each side of Ian, pushed right into his face and growled, “You will not mess with me!”
“I am not messing with you…look…” Ian explained the situation as quickly as he could. He knew when he was half way through it and Ripley growled “I will break his neck” he was home free…then the cavalry arrived in the form of Tippy Shores.
“Where in the hell do you two think you are going, Baby Doll?” She demanded.
Ian started to explain, but Ripley put up his hand, “They are about to go behind Ian’s back and announce to the press that he’s being released from his contract immediately as per his own request. We have to get him to that press room.”
“No way!” Tippy said.
“Tippy, it’s a matter…”
“Save your breath, you’ll need cover. They are not just gonna let him carry you out of here and say come back as soon as you can. The moment that monitor slips off your finger all hell’s gonna break loose.”
She walked over to the far side of the bed. Okay hold still, Baby Doll, this is gonna hurt.” She pulled the needle out of the back of his hand that was attached to the drip bag.
“Shit!”
“Sorry. Okay….okay” She paced a bit. “We need another body, somehow.”
Just then Jesse walked in the door with Ronnie, who held a Styrofoam container that was steaming. “Jesse, Ian needs you. Get over here!”
“Huh?”
“Just do it!”
Tippy grabbed Jesse arm and drug him over to the far side of the bed. “Okay honey…this is so much fun, just like an episode of ‘Mission: Impossible’ I did. I still don’t now why they hired that Lesley Ann Warren as a regular and not me...oh well…hold your hand right like this Jesse.”
He did. “Okay, Baby Doll, on three you are almost home free…one...”
“What is going on?” Jesse demanded.
“Two…shut up sweetly I’ll explain later…three!” In less than a beat Tippy had switched the monitor clip from Ian’s finger to Jesse’s. “Okay, there is just that sweet man at the desk. Thank God m’gaydar didn’t go off on him. Give me two minutes; I’ll open the door when the coast is clear….Ronnie you run out and push the elevator button. When it opens hop inside and press the lobby button, but hold the door open until Mr. Ripley gets in there with your Papa.”
“Are we breakin’ Papa out?”
“Something like that, now scoot.”
Ronnie giggled and was off in a flash. Tippy stood at the door.
“Okay, Ronnie’s at the elevator. Ripley be ready on my signal. She headed for the door. “Wait!” She reached down the front of her dress and yanked out her bra. “There” she unhooked two top buttons and was gone.
“You ready, sir? I’ll be as gentle as I can.” Ripley hoisted Ian up off the bed effortlessly and headed toward the door.
It was less than a minute when the door was thrown open and Tippy whispered…”the elevator is open….run!”
Ripley ran almost effortlessly to the waiting elevator.
Ian looked down at Ronnie. “Okay, Puppy, when the door is open, run ahead and hold all the doors open for us.”
“You got it.” Ronnie agreed.
It wasn’t until Ripley was slipping Ian into the back seat of the car that people started yelling and running toward them. Ripley jumped in the front seat and Wella slammed on the gas before he even got the door shut. Ripley turned around and spoke to Ian. “You okay, boss?”
“Not bad.”
“You’re not gonna feel too fine, once your body starts to realize it doesn’t have a steady Percidan drip.”
“Let’s just concentrate on the neck your gonna break.”
Ripley turned around and slammed his fist into his palm.
Red lights were run and collisions barely avoided but somehow they all made it alive to the press room. Ripley gently picked up a shaken Ian and followed by Ronnie and Wella who pushed buttons ordered people to look out and finally guided them to two heavy double doors. She threw them open with all her might and like a twisted version of “Officer and a Gentleman”, Ripley carried Ian toward the already bright lights.
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