Chapter 70

word count 1444

Mick Johnson approached the ailing Mrs. Dunn with care. He wouldn't want to startle the elderly woman. She looked up as he entered the room. Her splendid sapphire eyes shot him a questioning glance. The good news was she was alert, good for questioning. The bad news was she looked frail and weak propped up in the bed. Maybe her age make her that way. Dry gray hair lay flattened against her head, and her complexion was pale at best, white skin with plenty of wrinkles indicating her age. But her vibrant eyes at least hinted at the life and vigor within.

"Mrs. Dunn, I'm Detective Johnson," he said, flashing his badge. "I was hoping I could ask you a few questions."

"Whatever for? I had an upset stomach. That's all!"

"Well, your client, Mr. Miller, collapsed from a similar illness. We feel inclined to think it might be more than a mere coincidence. I'd like to question you to see if there are any similarities."

"Oh, okay."

"First of all, did you notice anything strange in the house before your collapse? Anything out of place, anything unusual?" He pushed thick, horn-rimmed glasses up on his nose.

"Of course, not! I was there alone. And Mr. Miller was already in the hospital at the time."

"I know that, Mrs. Dunn. But maybe whatever has afflicted you two may have been in the house a while and may be still there now. Now, you've already said you were alone that day, but do you remember anyone strange in the house in the last week or so? A meter reader? A repairman? A solicitor?"

"Well, I mean. There were visitors! One night Mr. Miller's cop friends came. There must have been a dozen of them, all drinking like a bunch of beer bums. And I believe Adam's little friend, Elliot...his dad may have dropped off Adam after he stayed at Elliot's house to play. He may have come in."

"They all sound okay. Are you sure there were no strangers?" He accidentally dropped his pen and reached down to pick it up.

"No."

"Okay, well, what do you remember about the day of your attack?" His notebook dropped from his lap as lifted the pen off the floor.

Observing the clumsy detective, Mrs. Dunn continued. "Well, I had settled up my employment plans with the agency on the phone and then checked over the house before I shut it down for a time."

"What all did you do? Did you see anything unusual?"

"The typical things. I adjusted the thermostat for minimal usage, unplugged the TV, turned off a few things, locked the windows, and cleaned out the refrigerator."

"Did you notice any evidence of forced entry while you worked?" He flipped through the pages of his notebook as he spoke.

"Heavens no!"

"Mrs. Dunn, I'm presuming from your symptoms you may have eaten or drunk something harmful. Did you eat or drink anything while you were in the house? Did you have anything with honey in it?" Mick checked his note that said poisoning can happen if you eat honey made by bees that used the oleander plant for nectar.

Mrs. Dunn looked to the ceiling and thought. "Well, I made myself a lunch from leftovers. A turkey sandwich. But I threw away most of the perishables before I left. I turned the fridge way down. There was nothing left in there but ketchup and mayonnaise. I did have tea, but no honey in it."

"Did you use condiments on the sandwich?"

"I used mayonnaise. Doesn't everyone use mayo on turkey?"

"Actually, no. I prefer mustard." Mick shook his head and refocused. "Was the mayo home-made?"

"It was jarred, a commercial product."

"Hmmph. Okay." Mick scribbled frantically. "Oh, one other question, are there any decorative plants in the yard, like oleander?"

"Heavens no! If I had seen such a thing, I would have insisted Mr. Miller get rid of it. Those plants are poisonous, you know."

"Yes, yes they are." Mick replied.

***

Detective Dillon Decker was pacing up and down the hallway when Gil arrived. When Gil showed his badge and introduced himself, Dillon went off on him.

"Do you realize I've been waiting all fucking morning for you to get here? And it looks like you don't even have back up! Are you planning to take Leichtenstein back with no back up?" His normally pale face flushed red, while he ran a hand through his blond, spiked hair.

"Well, he is sedated, isn't he? It's just a short trip."

"That's not protocol! I'm not gonna let you have him. Not when you're traveling alone."

Gil was ready to punch out his lights. The guy obviously didn't understand how much he wanted to take that piece of shit Leichtenstein in, or how long he'd been chasing him. And why all this playing by the rules? In New Albany they were a lot more relaxed on so-called 'protocol'. He had to admit though, if it were any other criminal, and if the guy wasn't sedated, Gil would have brought backup. It's just that he flew off to get here in a rush, and it didn't seem such a big deal at the time to come alone. He fought for self-control while he hoped to be able to negotiate an agreement.

"Well, look! Can you lend me an officer to come along? Our department is all booked up right now."

Decker paused to consider. He certainly didn't intend to hurry to respond, not after being kept waiting all morning. It felt good to get even; he rather liked being in charge. He watched Gil through the corner of his eye and relished what he saw, the desperation, the pleading. Finally, he spoke.

"Simone! Accompany Detective Bettencourt and the prisoner to New Albany."

A leggy, dark-haired female detective approached from standing in front of Leichtenstein's room.

"Gil Bettencourt, this is Detective Beverly Simone."

Gil's jaw dropped. She was gorgeous! Dark, almond-shaped eyes peered at him curiously, just as inquisitively as he examined her and her remarkable figure. The sleek black clothes only enhanced her sexual allure.

I think I won the lottery, Gil mused. Next he wondered, this guy hates me. Why would he set me up with this babe? There was no time to think about it. They had to get Lichtenstein back to New Albany.

***

When he came face to face with Jake Lichtenstein, their eyes met, captor versus prey. Jake's were fiery. He was sedated, but his maniacal nature couldn't be retrained by any medication. Even if the body was numbed, that blackened soul still fought to get out. Gil knew he was looking into the countenance of a killer, an abuser, a tormentor of innocent children. The sickest of the sick. It was all he could do not to grab the guy and strangle him right there. As if he read Gil's mind, the fellow chuckled, amused at his impunity from the cop's wrath. Gil stormed from the room.

You can't get emotional. Check your emotions at the door, he reasoned with himself. A cop is always objective, always detached.

When he'd calmed down, he and Detective Simone loaded Jake into the back of a squad car and took their places up front. Metal grating separated them from the pervert. Gil chose to drive. He revved the engine and let the exhilaration flow. It felt like Christmas, bringing this bastard in. This was a day for the books, he was victorious at last.

"So how long have you been in New Albany?" Detective Simone asked.

"For my whole career. I grew up over there."

"The same for me. I'm a Weston girl." She smiled sweetly.

Gil shot her a glance. "So what do you want me to call you, Detective...Beverly or Detective Simone?"

"Just call me Simone. That's what everyone does. What about you?"

"Call me Gil."

"If you two lovebirds are finished with your introductions, what does a guy have to do to get a drink of water around here?" It was Lichtenstein. He was strapped in the back with the seat belt, in addition to hand cuffs and ankle cuffs, but it didn't stop the guy from making his presence known.

"SHUT YER PIEHOLE! It's only a short ride. You can wait for water!" Gil slammed his fist on the dash when he let loose with the barrage of words. The sound of Jake's voice grated on him. It was the same voice that lured little boys, intent on doing them harm. He didn't want to hear another peep from that sonofabitch.

Alas, it was not to be.