CHAPTER FOUR
Ben’s eyes shot open and he blinked a few times until his
focus returned. The haze from his painkillers was lifting
and his head was no longer suffering at the hands of his
brain bleeder. He had barely made it home from the
Station House earlier, when the full effect of the drugs
kicked in. It had taken all the strength he had left to make
it from his car to he lounge, before passing out. Although
he felt refreshed, he did feel somewhat more energised.
Or at least he felt more capable of getting on with the day
and more importantly, his job.
In one swift movement, he threw his legs over the edge of
the lounge and planted them firmly on the floor. With
both arms raised above his head, he stretched, rose to
his feet and stumbled into the kitchen. After setting the
kettle to boil, he searched for his notebook to review his
notes once more. Ben pulled his notebook from his coat
pocket and headed into his office. He flipped through his
book and studied the copies of the business cards found
near Tessa’s body. Her murder was a giant puzzle and Ben
was no wiser now than he was three weeks ago when
Tessa was discovered.
The kettle whistled away, boiling water spitting from the
mouth of its spout. Ben left his notes and walked back
into the kitchen. He carefully apportioned just the right
amount of coffee and sugar into his favourite coffee mug
before adding the milk and finally the water. For most
people, a cuppa was just a cuppa, but not for Ben. His
coffee was a simple pleasure and if it wasn’t made
according to his fastidious directions, it no longer held
any enjoyment for him. The fact that he was about to enter
the worst coffee house in Showsdale, only made Ben even
more determined to enjoy the brew he was now
preparing. He stirred the mixture briskly and inhaled the
aroma of the double roasted blend, before indulging in
the first swallow.
"Aaahh," he sighed aloud.
With his coffee still firmly in one hand, he strode into his
office and collected his notebook and pen before heading
to his bedroom to change his clothes. He sipped his
coffee slowly and then opened his robe doors. Ben chose
a suede jacket, a smart button up polo shirt and pair of
neatly pressed, box pleated slacks. Comfortable that his
dress was both official and reasonably casual all in one,
he gulped down the last of his coffee. He sat the empty
mug on top of his chest of drawers and made his way to
the bathroom. Ben splashed some water on his face,
brushed his teeth and freshened his breath. He combed
his hair and then slapped on a dash of cologne. The
coolness of the cologne stung his skin, causing him to
wince. Confidant that he was ready to tackle the job ahead
of him, he walked back into his bedroom and began
dressing for his impromptu meeting with the Wellness
Clinic.
Ben glanced at the red neon digits of his bedside clock,
4.45pm. He pulled on his suede jacket, tucked his
notebook and pen into the front inside pocket. From the
dressing table, he stuffed a couple of sealed painkillers
into his other pocket. Snatching his empty mug from the
top of the chest of drawers, he then headed back to the
kitchen.
After carefully rinsing out his coffee cup, Ben then grabbed
his keys from the key holder on the kitchen wall, set his
alarm and left the apartment. As he walked out the front
door, he secured the deadbolt and headed to the garage.
Security was of great importance to Ben, he could never
be certain that some former crim he helped put away
wouldn’t come after him for revenge or any number of
other reasons.
Once behind the wheel of his baby blue 57 Chevy, Ben
drew in a deep breath and allowed the scent of the leather
upholstery to fill his senses.
"Aaahh," he gushed as he exhaled slowly.
He surveyed the immaculate interior of his pride and joy
with vanity and gratification before turning the key in the
ignition. The Chevy’s motor sprung to life and purred like
a satisfied kitten. Content that he had indulged in his
Chevy’s pleasures long enough, he backed down the
driveway. He scanned for traffic, and then indicated his
intent to pull out, before setting off down the road in the
direction of Shelby’s Coffee House.
He made a left on Bligh Street and accelerated a little
before settling into an easy cruising mode for the next
twenty minutes. A river of dazzling neon signs soon
shone on either side of him. Among them, Ben spied the
rather mundane advertisement for Shelby’s Coffee House.
He found the first available car park, got out of his car and
headed for Shelby’s. Ben pushed open the single glass
door and stepped inside. Instantly, his senses were
tantalised with the aroma of fresh coffee beans and a less
familiar scent he figured could be cinnamon.
Shelby’s looked like a lower class coffee shop. Its tables
were covered with cheap plastic backed cloths instead of
the usual cotton blend found in most places he had
visited down town. Instead of fresh carnations in china
vases in the centre of each table, there were tacky fake
roses in fog stained, mock crystal flutes.
Browsing around further, he found the atmosphere to be
pleasant enough and the chubby, young bru-nette behind
the coffee grinder shot him a broad, welcoming smile.
Ben approached the counter and took a seat directly in
front of her.
"Can I get you something, love?" she asked, her smile
broadening.
Ben looked up and down the counter, his eyes falling on a
fully stocked cake platter.
"Is that apple and rhubarb?" he asked, pointing to the
platter.
"Sure is, darl. Best in town too," she answered.
"I’ll have a slice of that and a white coffee with one and a
half sugars thanks," Ben in-structed her. His taste buds
were screaming at him for having ordered coffee. They
could still taste the chunks from the last cup of Shelby’s
coffee Ben had subjected them to, a year ago.
"Comin’ right up," she replied.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet and
I.D. He then turned his attentions back to the brunette
and asked, "The Manager about?"
"I certainly am, what can I help you with?" she asked still
busy gathering his pie and coffee. When she placed his
order in front of him, he opened his wallet and flashed his
credentials at her.
"I’m Detective Ben Payne," he said. "I just have a couple
of routine questions for you. It won’t take long."
"Bout what?" the brunette asked, looking rather confused.
"First off, what’s your name? Shelby?"
With a girlish giggle she replied, "Oh no honey, I’m
Joanna Kent. Shelby was the previous owner." She paused
for a moment then contin-ued, "I o
nly took over a month
ago and I figure, why go to all the expense of changin’ the
name here? Things are fine as they are."
"I understand," confirmed Ben. "Do you still accept these
buy one get one free cards?" he asked pulling the copy of
the redemption card from his notebook.
"Sure do," she said. "You wanna redeem it now?"
"Oh no, no, no." Ben pulled the card back from her reach.
"I was just curious, is there any way of knowing who owns
this card or when they acquired it?"
Joanna eyed him suspiciously, still uncertain if he was
aiming for a freebie or if he had a legitimate reason for
asking what she considered to be an unanswerable
question.
"Well, all I can tell you is that we don’t ask for personal
details when we hand them out," she said as she studied
the card carefully. "Though I can tell you this much…"
Ben’s eyes lit up, hoping his break was coming through.
"That card you have there only came in the Friday after I
took over."
"How can you be sure of that?" Ben asked.
"Well I had new ones printed up with a blue border, see.
They used to be black." Joanna handed him an old
redemption card. "The delivery guy only dropped them to
me on the afternoon of the seventeenth, I’d been fresh
out of cards for a week before then. Come to think of it, I
was fresh out of everything when I took over this place."
She rolled her eyes back in her head and placed her hands
on her hips.
"So you’re saying that this card would only have been
given out on Friday the seven-teenth at the earliest?" he
asked her.
"You got it," she answered.
"Were you working that Friday?" he asked.
"Honey, I’m always working… I can’t afford to hire anyone
else."
Ben shifted on his seat anxiously, his hopes beginning to
build a little. Pulling a photo of Tessa Hunt from his
notebook he showed it to Joanna.
"Do you recognise or recall serving this woman on that
particular Friday or Friday night?"
After perusing the picture carefully, Joanna smiled softly
and said, "Sure, she was a sweetheart… such lovely
manners and she left me a generous tip too."
"Was she with anyone? What time did she leave?" Ben
fired off another round of questions.
"What is this about, exactly?" Joanna asked, looking Ben
directly in the eye. Her nerves beginning to show.
"Unfortunately, Joanna, this woman was found murdered.
Your redemption card was found in her purse," he
informed her rather abruptly. "Right now, I’m just
following every lead available, no matter how insignificant
it may seem."
Joanna’s hands flew up to her face and her eyes closed
momentarily. Ben allowed her to gather her thoughts
before he resumed his questioning.
"Is there anything you can tell me that may be relevant,
Joanna?"
"I didn’t see her with anyone, she got up once or twice to
use the payphone…" Joanna reached for a fresh cup to
make herself a coffee.
"She seemed like she was waiting for whomever it was
she rang, but after half an hour or so she left… alone."
"What time was this?"
"About 7.30, I close at 8 and she was the only customer I
had left."
Ben pulled his business card out of his wallet and handed
it to Joanna, "If you remem-ber anything, no matter how
trivial you think it may be, give me a call."
"I certainly will," replied Joanna, taking his card from him.
Placing ten dollars plus a tip on the counter, Ben took a
bite of his pie before stand-ing up. "Delicious," he cooed
to Joanna as he stuffed his wallet and notebook back into
his pockets and left Shelby’s.
Ben’s Chevy sailed along Link Avenue and then made a
quick right into Fort Street. He circled the round a bout
before entering a parking bay directly in front of the
Wellness Clinic. He shut down the engine, got out of his
car and stood motionless in front of the building for a few
minutes. The sheer optical brilliance of it struck him first;
there were two marble columns either side of the four
extra-large, glass doors. 'Your Right To Choose Wellness
Clinic' was deeply etched into a brass plaque bolted
tightly onto the face of one of the marble columns. It
shone brazenly as his eyes fell upon it. Ben hadn’t been
sure what to expect, but
somehow the grandiose nature of the building alone, was
not it.
Unable to see anyone through the glass doors, Ben
turned to his right. On the wall, he noticed a digital
intercom system, he ap-proached it confidently and
pushed a large, black button marked 'Page'.
"Hello," a voice crackled through the intercom.
"This is Detective Ben Payne, I’d like to speak to whoever
is in charge of your clinic please," he replied in the most
officially domi-nating tone he could muster.
"I’m sorry Detective, the clinic is closed for the day. Would
you like to make an ap-pointment for during the week?"
she asked, sounding very much like he was inconvenienc-
ing her in some way.
"Who am I speaking with?" grumbled Ben, more than a
little annoyed that she was fobbing him off.
"My name is Marla Andrews, I’m sorry Detective but Dr.
Sugars has finished for the day. I’d be happy to…"
Ben cut her short and spat firmly at her, "Listen, Marla, I
am investigating a very serious police matter and it is
important that I speak with this Dr. Sugars immediately. If
you wish to have Detectives parading all over your waiting
room tomorrow, scaring your patients…"
"Just one moment please, eerr, what did you say your
name was again?" she asked.
Ben was certain the woman was trying to make life difficult
for him. "Detective Ben Payne!"
The intercom fell silent, Ben waited to see what was going
to happen next.
"The Dr will see you, Detective." Her voice crackled over the
line.
"Thank you, Marla," he sighed and stepped back from the
intercom, then waited in front of the closest set of glass
doors. A few minutes later a tall, thin woman with
shoulder length, jet-black hair appeared. She thumbed
through a large set of keys and unlocked the door. With a
wave of her hand, she beckoned him to come through.
Once inside, Ben was again struck with the stature of the
building. Its marble floors, the leather lounge chairs in
the exquisitely decorated waiting room, beautifully framed
oil paintings, even the magazine table, all looked
expensive.
"This wellness thing must pay well, eh?" asked Ben.
"Must it?" replied Marla, her piercing green eyes burning
into him. Ben glanced at her briefly, wondering if his
innocent comment had somehow offended her or
whether she was simply difficult with every person she
came in contact with.
&nbs
p; "It was meant as a compliment, nothing more," Ben made
an attempt to smooth over their rough beginning. "My
Doctor’s office isn’t anywhere near this impressive."
"Well," Marla started, as she looked him over, "we deal
with a slightly different clientele here."
Unsure if she was degrading him on purpose, Ben sucked
air back through his teeth and decided it was best to
ignore her remark. "Is Dr. Sugars ready for me now?" he
asked, as he tried to regain control of the situation. "I’d
like to make this as brief and painless as possible so we
can all get on with our evening."
Marla led him silently down a corridor and opened a door
at the end. She motioned to Ben to take a seat in the
extra large easy chair in front of a beautifully crafted oak
desk.
"Wait here, please. I’ll let Dr. Sugars know you’re ready,"
said Marla as she turned and left the room.
Ben simply couldn’t under-stand her. She seemed to have
a set on him and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out
why. Maybe his frayed lack of patience had shown more
than he had realised when they spoke over the intercom.
Perhaps he had offended her and now she was returning
the favour. Whatever the case, Ben made a mental note to
find out more about the woman. There was something
about her he didn’t quite feel at ease with.
He made himself comfortable in the royal blue, suede
easy chair and reached into his pocket, retrieving his
notebook and pen. Ben’s eyes surveyed the room and
narrowed as he began to focus on Dr. Sugars’ PHD and
numer-ous awards hanging on the pale blue walls of her
office. On her desk sat two small, silver framed photos. A
rather handsome, distinguished man smiled up from the
first frame and in the other was a teenage girl who looked
familiar to Ben. Unable to put his finger on where he had
seen the girl, he leaned closer for a better look when the
office door opened.
"Detective Payne?" an attractive middle-aged woman
who Ben presumed was Dr. Sugars, entered the room.
"In the flesh," he lightly replied.
"Rose-Marie Sugars… please call me Rose," she
introduced herself warmly. "I understand you need to
speak to me regarding a Police matter. How can I help
you, Detective?"
Impressed with her courteous manner and pleasant
disposition, Ben flashed her a comforting smile. She was
the complete opposite to her secretary and he
appreciated the respect she showed him.
"Please call me Ben," he said.
Nodding in agreement, Rose spoke again, "How is it you
believe I can be of assistance, Ben?"
He produced the small photo of Tessa Hunt, handed it to
her and said, "Do you recall this woman. Is she or was she
a client of yours?"
She studied the picture carefully before replying, "Why yes,
as a matter of fact I con-sulted with her just last month."
"Consulted with her? What exactly do you specialise in
here, Rose?"
"I can’t give you the specifics of Tessa’s consultation, but I
can tell you what we practice here… if you think it would be
of benefit?"
"I’d appreciate that," Ben encouraged her.
"We are a licensed termination clinic," she began. "We
discuss unwanted or unplanned pregnancies and offer
not only termination, but other alternatives to women in
such predica-ments." She stared at him. "No judgment,
Ben?" she asked awkwardly. "It’s been my experience that
most people show signs of disapproval and disgust when
they first realise that my wellness clinic is not the health
resort or beauty spa they had mistaken it to be." Rose sat
back and looked at him a little longer.
"Not at all Rose, this world is full of personal choices and
termination is just that, personal choice."
"I’m relieved you are so open minded. Not many are when
it comes to my line of work." She fell silent for a moment
before continuing, "I have learned to live with the criticism,
the derogatory remarks, abusive letters and calls, though.
I understood that all came with the job when I entered
this field."
Ben’s eyebrows rose, "You get much hate mail?
"Oh yes, and plenty of calls to follow it up. But tell me Ben,
why are you interested in Tessa?"
Ben stared at her for a moment before it dawned on him
that she had absolutely no idea Tessa was dead. With all
the publicity surround-ing her murder over the last couple
of weeks, he thought it a bit odd.
"So you haven’t heard?" he asked.
"Heard what? Has Tessa had an accident, is that what this
is all about?" she replied, her concern beginning to
present itself.
Ben lowered his voice to a soft whisper, "I am sorry to tell
you that she was murdered sometime around the
evening of Friday the seventeenth. Your card was found in
her purse," he told her empathetically. "I’m just following
leads right now, however with what you have just told me,
there are elements of her murder that may indicate her
pregnancy could have been a factor in her death."
"Dear God, no," cried Rose. She slumped back in her chair,
rubbed her eyes and sighed deeply. Ben gave her a
minute to digest the news.
"Was she scheduled for a termination?" he pressed her
gently.
"Yes, but she phoned me the Friday, a couple of days after
her initial consultation and said that she wanted to
postpone." She dabbed her eyes with a tissue and carried
on, "She said that she wanted to reconsider her options
and come back in the following week, before she followed
through with her termination."
"Do you remember what time she called you?"
Rose checked her date book. "I remember I left late the
night of the seventeenth, I guess she called around
seven-ish." She continued brows-ing her book. "Yes, here
it is… Friday the seventeenth. I left at roughly seven thirty
that evening." She held out her book for Ben to view,
before placing it back down on her desk.
Ben nodded and jotted the entry down in his notebook.
"Her pregnancy… Did she tell you why she was
considering termination? Was it just bad timing or did
she simply not want a baby right now? What about the
Father, did she say who he was?"
Rose pulled a manila folder from the tall filing cabinet
behind her chair and perused her notes. "All she told me
was that keeping the baby would be disastrous because
the Father was a married man. There was no mention of
his name though."
"Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything at all?"
He asked. "It may be impor-tant, Rose."
"Not that I can think of Detective, but I will call you if any
other information comes to light. Do you have a card?"
Ben handed her a card. He couldn’t shake the feeling that
Rose was trying to end their conversation prematurely.
; Ben was unsure whether she had been dodging his
bullets on purpose or if the sheer weight of their
discussion had been too much for her and she simply
needed time to absorb all that had been said. Either way,
he knew he would be revisiting Rose… and sooner rather
than later.
As he walked toward the door, he turned back to her.
"Your receptionist?"
"Marla? Yes, what about her?" she replied.
"Has she been here long?"
"She’s been with me from the start," she stated flatly. "Is
there something wrong?"
"Oh no, just one of those questions I ask, more for my
own curiosity. Nothing to do with the case." He assured
her. "She does seem a little icy and tightly wound
though…"
"Yes," Rose cut him off. "Marla has had some rather
difficult news to digest of late. I’ll be sure to have a word
with her about being more courteous Detective."
Ben couldn’t be sure, but he felt that Rose acted quite
defensive in regards to Marla. "Thank you for your time,
Rose, I appreciate it."
"You are more than welcome, Ben. Don’t hesitate to call
me again should you need to."
Smiling kindly at her, he opened the door, "I’ll see myself
out."
Rose flashed him an uncomfortable smile and nodded.
Passing by Marla’s desk on the way out, he shot her the
most dazzling smile he could muster and said, "Night,
Marla."
She glared at him and replied, "Good-night, Detective."
Ben crawled into his car and stared at the wellness clinic
for a while before pulling his phone out and dialling Jay.
"Jayy, it’s me… we still on for 9?"
"Surely are," answered Jay. "I got lots to tell ya Ben."
Ben glanced at the clinic again and saw Marla and Rose
leaving. He followed them with his eyes. They both exited
the building and walked over to a silver volkswagon
convertible. To Ben’s surprise the two of them got in and
drove off together, Rose behind the wheel.
"Strange," he said, forgetting he was on the phone to
Jay.
"What’s strange?" Jay asked.
"Oh, nothing," stated Ben, suddenly aware of Jay again.
"I’ll see you at Bluey’s."
He disconnected the call.