Chapter Three - The Fallen Gumshoe

The next day I woke up on Sam’s couch to the sound of my cell phone ringing.  It was Sam. 

         “Yeah?”  I answered.

         “You awake?” 

         “Uh…yeah, what’s up?”  I said, still trying to get my bearings.  For a moment, I was still in my old world where Jeni existed and she was waiting for me to come home.  The events of the night before flashed in my mind and left me feeling empty and full of loss. 

         “Raines is up my ass about this, Marty.  He doesn’t like it when people step on his investigation.” 

         “Well, he’s just going to have to deal.” 

         “I knew you’d say that, so here’s what I got.  James Darren, 41.  No marital status.  Did some time in ‘96 on a rape and attempted murder charge.  Case was thrown out, not enough evidence to convict.  Couple of traffic violations, but nothing else major.”

         “That’s strange.  Raines didn’t say anything about that last night.”

         I was bothered that Mitchell kept that information to himself. 

         “What about the phone?”  I asked.

         “We ran the numbers on it, what little there were.  All of them were dead ends except that Darren placed a call to your house last night.”

         “Probably to make sure Jeni was there.”

         “Well, that’s what I thought, but I checked further into it anyway.  I pulled up your phone record from last night.  As it turns out, he did in fact call the house, and he talked to someone there for five minutes.  That’s a lengthy amount of time to find out if someone’s home.”

         “Jeni was the only one there until I got home.  She talked to him?”

         “It’s possible she knew him.  But it gets better.  Your father also called your house from his home phone before Darren’s call was placed.”

         “That’s odd.”

         “That’s what I thought.”

         “How long was the record on the call my father made?”

         “The record only shows one minute.  It’s possible that he didn’t actually make contact with Jeni.  Or, if he did, the conversation was really short.”

         “When was the call placed?”

         “9:58 pm.” 

         “That was right before I got there.  At that point, Jeni was still trying to fight off Darren.”

         “Maybe he was calling to warn her?”

         “I don’t know.  According to Raines, he showed up at the house after I left.  Somehow, he’s connected to this.  I’ve gotta talk to him.”

         “You should check out the bank before you do that.  Maybe there’s evidence there that’ll give you leverage.”

         “I’m on it.  Keep digging.  I’ll call you as soon as I have something.

         “Marty, we’ll find the truth behind this, I promise.”

         “I know.”

         I remember that morning being bitter cold.  It began to snow on my way to the bank.  I pulled the key from my pocket and examined it once more.  I thought of Jeniveve’s handwriting:  “Key – 8685.”  How long had she had a safety deposit box?  And for what purpose?  Why hide it from me?  She was a legal advisor who worked out of the house all day.  She used to tell me it kept her busy so she wouldn’t go crazy.  It wasn’t about the money either.  It was about the people.  So many times I can remember arguing with her about taking on cases for free, and that her time was more valuable than that.  It didn’t matter what I said though.  She felt that she needed to help in any way possible.  Regardless of her clientele’s financial shortcomings. 

         Lloyd’s Commerce Bank was on the corner of Wells and Foster.  It was a relatively small outfit.  The parking lot wasn’t much bigger than my front yard.  I walked in through the front door, gazing around for a staff member.  Inside, it was quiet and there was almost no movement.  No other customers were in line for either of the two tellers.  A female voice came from my right.

         “Hi, can I help you?”  She said. 

         She was an older woman, much shorter than I was, bearing glasses and a purple suit. 

         “Hi, yes, I’m interesting in accessing my safety deposit box.”  I said.

         “Right this way.” 

         She led me down the hallway past the tellers to an empty room guarded with steel doors.  Inside the room were a thousand small, square doors.  All of them had numbers and key locks on them.  I told her which number was mine.  We inserted both of our keys simultaneously and opened the door.

         “Just let us know when you’re finished.”  She said, and walked out.

         The space inside was dark and small.  The light from the room barely illuminated a black folder inside.  I grabbed the folder and peered inside further for anything left behind.  I put the folder under arm, closed the door and started my walk back out.  The lady in purple was walking toward me.

         “All set?”  She asked.

         “Almost.  Could you do me a small favor?”  I asked.

         “Sure.”

         “Can you tell me if anyone else comes in for this same box?”  I handed her my business card, revealing to her that I was on the force.

         “Certainly, detective.”

“Thank you.” 

         Upon exiting the bank, I gave a quick glance around and got back into my car.  I sat for a moment with the folder on my lap.  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know its contents, but pushed that feeling away and opened it. 

         There were photographs and documents inside.  The first photo was older, and in black and white.  There were two men in the picture.  Both of them were laughing in what appeared to be a happy moment, captured or frozen in time.  One of the men I recognized as a younger version of my father.  The other man I did not recognize.  I flipped through a few more pages of documents to another photograph.  This photo appeared to have been taken at an academy graduation.  The same two men were in the photo standing side by side in patrol uniforms.  Like before, the one man was definitively my father, while the other I didn’t recognize.  Who was the mystery man?  I kept flipping through the pages.  Then I came to a police report that included a familiar face.  Milo Turnovsky.  It was his complete police personnel file.  He had been a cop working on the force around the same time as my father!  His arrest record, disciplinary actions and awards were all in this file.  I gazed at the photo on his personnel file for a moment.  I then pulled the original photo back out of my father and the mystery man.  He was the man in the photo next to my father.  Milo Turnovsky.  Murderer.  And now, my father’s ex-partner.  It all points to Turnovsky, she said.

         There was one more document that caught my eye.  It was another police report on the crime scene at Turnovsky’s residence.  My wife had a copy in the envelope I found last night, but this one was different.  It stated that Turnovsky fired upon his wife in self defense, and that her weapon, a handgun was found next to her body not loaded.  This complicated things.  Which report was accurate?  Why were there two in the first place?  I decided to call Sam and tell him what I had found.  Sam and I met a few hours later at a restaurant.

         “Okay Sammy, I’m going out of my mind here.  I found this in the safety deposit box.”  I handed him the folder.  Sam poured over the documents and photos with his eyes for a few moments before commenting.

         “So, this proves Turnovsky and your father knew each other.”  He said.

         “Yes!”

         “Not only that…but they were partners Sam.”  I continued.

         Sam sees the second police report on Turnovsky’s wife’s crime scene.

         “The hell?  What’s this?”  He said, leaning forward.

         “That’s what I said.  It’s a second account of what happened that night.”

         “It says here that Milo fired in self-defense.  And that your father wrote this report.” 

         “I know!” 

         “Marty do you remember anything about that night you arrested Milo?”

         “No, not really.  Just coming to the crime scene.  It was one of my first big ones as detective.  Everyone thought he was guilty.  I mean, c’mon…A guy shoots his wife in cold blood like that?  I remember my father being there.  But I never knew he was partnered with Turnovsky at any point in time.  He treated Turnovsky like any other perp.” 

         “So, either your father lied on this report and it was never filed, or the one you wrote at the station is false.”  Sam said.

         “But your father resigned from the force the same year Turnovsky got the death penalty.”  He continued.

“Okay.  We know that I arrested Turnovsky for his wife’s murder back in ’92.  I wrote the report that was on file.  My father writes a different report from the scene that night saying that Turnovsky fired in self-defense.  And somehow that report ends up in the deposit box.  Turnovsky was sentenced later that year and put to death in ’93.  My father resigned from the force that same year.  Now, this file proves that Turnovsky and my father were partners at some point during their years in the department.  This is starting to make sense.  What if this report was what really happened that night?  And my father resigned because he disagreed with the court’s decision on Turnovsky’s sentence?”  I said.

         “Could be Marty.  But, it still hasn’t gotten us any closer to figuring out why Jeni was killed.”  Sam said.

         My stomach sank.  I had almost forgotten.  Almost.  I had been so wrapped up in trying to put the pieces together between my father and Turnovsky that I’d been out of focus with my goal.  Who killed my wife and why?

         “Raines was on me about my mother down at the station.”  I said.

         “Your mother?  What’s she got to do with this?  You haven’t talked with her in-“

         “Wait a second…Marty, when did your parent’s divorce?”  Sam asked.

         “Um…in ’92 I believe.”  I said.

         “The same year you arrested Turnovsky.”  Sam said.

         “You think there’s something there?”  I said.

         “I don’t know.  It doesn’t fit.  Your mother barely knew Jeni.  There’s no connection there.” 

         “But my father and Jeni were close over the years.  He used to give her a lot of static about giving legal advice to people.  It was all in good fun though.”

         “Tell you what, I’m gonna head over to the library and see what I can’t find on microfilm from what happened the day of the Turnovsky murder.”  Sam said. 

         “Sounds good.  I’m gonna head home for a while and see if I can’t find anything more in that study.”  I said.

         The yellow police line tape still fluttered in the winds around my house.  I went through the front door as I did the night before.  I could still hear Jeniveve screaming in my head.  I couldn’t bring myself to go upstairs.  The weight of my sorrow was pulling me down.  My stomach seemed to sink even further at the sight of anything in the house.  The memories were everywhere.  I could see her in her study, talking on the phone and writing notes.  I could see her trudging around the house barefoot.  She hated shoes.  I could see her in front of the stove, at the fridge, in front of the sink and at the table next to me eating.  I turned toward the family room and looked at the patio door that I’d kicked in.  The door had been replaced by a piece of plywood.  A mere casualty toward innocence.  The air didn’t smell like home any more.  It made me lightheaded.  I decided to lie down on the couch for a moment.  I closed my eyes and the flashes started again.

“Martin help!”  I could still hear her screaming.  “It’s about your father.  You need to know the truth.” Then I heard Darren’s voice.  “You…”  The events kept re-playing in mind over and over.  The voices wouldn’t stop.  My temples ached, and I felt sick to my stomach.  I began to cry again, before I nodded off to sleep.

        

         When I woke up it was dark outside.  I must have slept for hours.  My body felt heavy and it was difficult to move.  My eyes felt crusted over from the drying tears.  Then my phone rang.  I walked over and picked up the handset.

         “Yeah?”

         “Marty!  Were you sleeping?”  Sam said.

         “Yeah, I must have dozed off.”

         “Why don’t you come down to my house.  I found some information at the library that you need to hear.”  He said.

         “I’m on my way.”  I said.

     I began my journey down the usual back-roads to Sam’s house.  As I made it to the top of a hill, I noticed the clear night sky.  The moon was shining brightly and the stars glittered in the dark sky with life.  Their numbers seemed infinite and flowed all the way to the tree-lines.  I glanced back down at the road in front of me and noticed there was a deer directly in my path!  My car was doing almost 60 miles per hour by the time I reacted.  I swerved to miss the animal, lost control of the vehicle and slammed head on into a tree about 10 yards off the road.  I heard the metal on the car buckle under the impact.  My forehead was wet and it hurt immensely.  My windshield was shattered.  I remember hearing the hiss of the radiator hoses before I passed out.  Then I heard a voice from far away.

         “Can you speak?”  It asked.  The voice was clearly female, but I didn’t move.  My door opened and suddenly I felt a rise of pain go through my left arm.  I felt pressure on my shoulders, as if I was being pushed back against my seat.  I was becoming more awake.  My face was wet and warm.  And the pain in my left arm was going stronger.  I let out a slight moan.

         “Mister, I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but try not to move.  You’ve been in a bad accident.  I’m calling for help.”  The female voice was much louder now, as if she was standing right next to me.  I opened my eyes and saw a woman, squatting next to me dialing her phone. 

         “Help me.”  I said.  Knowing she was trying to already.  I heard her talking to someone on the phone telling them about my whereabouts and condition.

         “Don’t worry, I’m going to get you out of here.”  She said.

         My attention shifted from her to the front of my car.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flickering light coming from beneath my mangled hood.  I suddenly knew that I needed to get out of there and fast.  The engine bay had caught fire.

         “I’m sorry, I have to do this.  You’re not safe in this car.”  The woman said.

She bent down to me, put her arms around my back and side and began to lift with all her might.  My legs were stiff, but I could still control them.  I stumbled out of the car with her still holding the majority of my weight.  We walked side by side for many feet.  It felt like each of us had a leg in a burlap bag and we were trying to commence forward in a race. 

         “How…is…my car?”  I asked, not really knowing the extent of the damage.

         “Your car is totaled.  You hit that tree pretty square.”  She said, grunting.

         “It was a…damn deer…stupid thing was right in the middle-“  I was cut off.

         “It’s okay, you missed her.  The deer is gone…but you’re-“ 

Her voice was silenced by a deafening boom from behind us.  I remember feeling the heat and shockwave that forced us to the ground.  My car had exploded.  

The shockwave had sent us both to the ground face first.  My chest started to hurt.  I tried to turn over onto my back, but the pain in my chest spiked.

“Take it easy.”  The female voice said.

She gently laid me on my back.  I lifted my head up slightly to get a look at my car and it was completely engulfed in flames. 

         Laying there on the ground, I began to feel colder.  As if the very blood in my veins was beginning to freeze.  The woman sat up next to me and brushed my hair back.

         “I appreciate…you doing this.”  I said. 

         “Don’t worry about it.  Just try to stay awake.  You’ve lost a lot of blood.”  She said. 

         I knew my arm was broken.  I sat up slightly to look at it.  I noticed my shirt was covered in blood.  I felt a rush of pain come echoing from my head.  As if my brain was a burning throb inside my skull.  I put my head back down on the snowy grass.  My chest ached.  I remember getting very tired.  The energy in my body was leaving me and I just wanted to sleep.  Then the world outside went black.

I woke up again.  Only this time, the woman’s lips were pressed against mine and she was screaming at me in between the pains in my chest. 

         “Mister!  C’mon!  Stay with me!”  She yelled.

         I felt my nose being pinched and the softness of her moist, warm lips on mine.  She was on top of me, straddling me, trying to bring me back to life.  My chest continued to hurt even more from her compressions.  I realized all this in what felt like a nanosecond.

“Come on!”  She yelled again.

I felt her return once again to my mouth.  Suddenly, I had the energy to open my eyes, and take a deep breath.

“Thank God!”  She said.

My eyes met hers.  She had part of my blood on her cheeks.  I looked around and found that I was still in the snow-covered grass, lying on the cold ground.  Was I dying?  Did she bring me back?  Did she save me?  I glanced back at her.

“You’re gonna be okay.  You hear me?  You’re gonna be okay!”  She said.

She didn’t sound very reassuring.  Afterall, I’d said those very same words to dying victims before.  But it was her efforts that mattered.

“How long…have I been here?”  I asked.

“Just a few minutes.”  She said.

“I’m so cold.”  I said, starting to shiver.

She took off her coat, placed it over my chest and tucked it underneath my body at the sides.  I looked up at her and our eyes met once again.  I could feel that she had a genuine concern for me.  The look in her eyes was captivating.  She was an earthly angel who had come to rescue me.

“What’s…your name?”  I asked her.

         “Lara.”

         “My name is…Martin.  My friends call me…Marty.”  I said in between chills.

         Lara.  Interesting name, I thought.  She smiled at me.

         “Well Marty.  Don’t worry.  You’re not going to die unless I let you.”

         I tried to smile.  Somehow, her words were warming.  It gave me the strength I needed.  But I started to cough.  My chest still hurt.  I wanted to sleep again, so I started to close my eyes.

         “Stay with me!  You can do this.  Just keep talking to me.”  She said.

         I opened my eyes and I could hear the faint sound of a siren in the distance.  She climbed off of me and sat in the snow next to me.

         “Just…let me…go.  No one would blame you.”  I said.

         “Don’t talk like that, you’re going to be fine.”  She said, frowning, then looking away.

         “No, I’m not.  I’m a…cop.  I see these things…all the time.  Listen…my wife’s dead…just let me…go.”  I said.

         “I told you once already.  Don’t make me tell you again.”  She said, smiling.

“She’s…gone.  Please…just-”  I said. 

         Lara looked down at me with sympathetic eyes.  I was making her question her morality.  I felt guilty for that.  But at the same time, I didn’t care.  I was broken.  Destroyed.  I didn’t want to live. 

         “Martin, just hang on for a few more minutes.”

         She grabbed my hand and held it tightly.  Suddenly I realized what Jeni felt like laying under me before she died. 

         I could hear the crackling of the fire that was eating away at my car.  Lara glanced over at the inferno. 

         “Yep.  It’s totaled.”  She said, with a mild chuckle.

         “Man, this has been…a shitty week.”  I said.

         We both laughed lightly.  She was beautiful, especially when she smiled.  Her long, brown hair dangled above me and glistened in the firelight.  My strength was returning slowly.  I could feel the heat from the car, and it was giving me comfort on the cold ground.

        

Minutes passed by that seemed like hours when the ambulance finally pulled up.  Two paramedics jumped out.  They brought over a gurney and gently placed me on it.  I could hear Lara telling one of them what had happened when they were loading me in the ambulance.  I remember hearing the doors close, and the world went black, again.  

Coming up next:  Chapter Four - Death Before Guilt