Chapter Four
Another twenty four hours passed and still no sign of Trent and Diane. Neither Andrea nor Brian knew what to do about it.
“Andrea, the police haven’t got any leads.” Brian’s exasperation traveled through the phone lines like mustard from a squeeze bottle. “I’m going nuts just sitting here and I’m not getting anything accomplished at work.”
“I know. I feel the same and my work today left a lot to be desired. Mr. Forester, my boss, tried to tell me they went on a vacation. Can you imagine? Brian, we have to do something.” Andrea fiddled with the microwave as she heated some macaroni & cheese for dinner.
“What? What can we do?” Brian snapped, impatience lacing his words with anger.
“Don’t bark at me. I just know I can’t sit here day after day waiting for the police to get off their duffs and find them. We’ve got to think of something…anything.”
Brian quickly apologized. “I feel so helpless.”
“Brian, I have to go. Someone’s at the door. Call me if you think of anything.” Andrea replaced the receiver and walked toward her front door. The doorbell pealed again, more insistently this time. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
The dogs raced toward the front door just ahead of her. Reaching for the doorknob with one hand, Andrea held onto Patches’ collar with the other. The dog acted as protector whether Andrea needed one or not. She opened the door to see her next-door neighbor standing in front of her. He looked troubled. He pushed the glasses sitting on his nose further up his face with his index finger.
“Hi Max, what can I do for you? Need some sugar? Where’s your bowl?”
“Hi, Andrea. No, I just wanted to say, I’m so sorry. If I’d known this would happen—”
“Sorry about what, Max? Come in, why don’t you?”
Max backed away from the door. “No, I just came to give you this.” He handed her a small piece of paper. Puzzled, she began to read the note.
THWACK. Max slumped forward, and fell face down on the carpet in her entryway. The note fluttered to the floor as her fingers and then her whole body went numb with shock. A pool of dark red seeped from the side of his neck to form a river that congealed as it ran toward the hallway table. Andrea shrank from the sight but then moved to try to roll Max onto his side. Her efforts were in vain.
The bullet had made hardly any sound but the ragged hole it left convinced Andrea Max was hurt…bad. She felt the rise of panic like a thick mass growing in her esophagus cutting off her ability to breathe. Impossible to think. The pit of her stomach filled with bile. She sat down hard. She shook her head to clear the fog. “Max. Max, answer me.” She heard her voice shouting from a long distance away as if she were in a room padded to stifle echoes. She strained to wrap her arms around his shoulders, only managing to lift his head. He’s too heavy. Sticky blood soaked her pants and ran warm over her legs. She couldn’t make him hear her. Large sobs rumbled up from her chest. Tears streaked in rivulets down her face. She spotted Max’s note laying beside him. She picked it up with bloody fingers and then, without a thought, put it in her pocket.
Andrea scooted back, away from the front door and Max’s still, lifeless body. . She had to get away from the blood. Her back rocked the table near her. The phone dropped. The receiver hit her shoulder and she stared at it, wondering where it came from. She picked it up, inspected it as if it could tell her what to do next. She tried to replace it. Her sticky, blood-soaked hands would not release it. Red oozed over the once white instrument just as it did everything in the hallway. Help. Need to get help. Her senses began to clear. She shook her head again and then again, blinking her eyes, trying to focus. She dialed “9-1-1”.
“Operator. . . help me—er us or—
“Slow down, Ma’am. What’s seems to be the problem. “Andrea heard the operator as she used her best calming voice. “Tell me where you are, please.”
“I’m at 1020 Topeka Bay, right off Euphoria in Simpson Heights. My neighbor has been shot. Right on my doorstep. “
“Is the shooter still there? Can you see anyone?” The operator’s voice rose a little and squeaked with apprehension.
“It came from somewhere outside, I think. No, I can’t see anyone. I’m sitting on the floor.”
“Stay out of sight of your door, ma’am. The police and ambulance are on their way. In fact you should hear the sirens at any moment.”
Andrea heard the distant sound of a siren coming closer and closer. “I hear them. I’ll hang up now. Thank you.”
•
Cars roared to a stop outside the address given them by dispatch. Officers looked around before exiting their cars. With one man in the lead, several policemen, their guns drawn, inched toward the house, keeping a low profile. The front door lay wide open. They moved with caution, pointing directions at one another. Inside they saw a woman on her knees beside a man in a pool of blood. She had a steady stream of tears running down her cheeks.
“Help him, please?” she said, looking at them with large eyes full of sorrow. They glanced at the fallen man but moved furtively past to inspect the rest of the house. “There’s no one in here. The shot came from outside.” Her voice fell on deaf ears as they continued their survey of the house.
“Clear.” One officer shouldered his way into the kitchen while another took cautious steps up the stairs to inspect the second floor. “Secure.” They holstered their guns and returned to the woman’s side. One police officer reached out the door and motioned the ambulance attendants, who had just arrived, to hurry.
•
The EMTs approached the victim and extricated the hands of the distraught woman from around the fallen man’s neck. One technician moved her to an adjacent room while, the first technician, the one who seemed to be in charge, took a good look at the injured party. He felt for a pulse and then used his stethoscope to check for a heartbeat. Nothing. He shook his head. He snapped his medical bag shut while another man reversed his steps, and took the equipment back to the ambulance. It wouldn’t be needed this time.
•
A grizzled looking EMT, hauling a plastic tarp, led Andrea toward the sofa in her living room. He placed the blue sheet of plastic on the sofa and then ushered her down to the soft cushions. Treating her as if she were fragile, he put a cushion behind her back and told her to take a few deep breaths while he felt for her pulse. His gentleness seemed so uncharacteristic and yet the term Teddy Bear came to Andrea’s mind as she watched his hands on her arm.
“Are you hurt, miss?”
“No.” She hiccupped. “This blood is from Max.” She seemed dazed. “He’s been shot.” Andrea looked down at her blood covered hands. She turned them this way and that as if to figure out why they felt sticky. Red stains soaked through her pants and caused them to stick to her legs. Her shirt had pulled loose from her pants and was torn with more red stains soaking through the fabric. She couldn’t control the tremor in her hands and legs.
“Here’s some water.” The kind face of her Teddy Bear looked on with compassion.
“I-I’m okay.” Tears slid down her face. “I’m s-sorry. I’ve never s-s-seen someone shot be-before. Poor M-Max. You know, he-he’s my c-closest neighbor. Who c-could’ve wanted to t-take his life?” She reached for a tissue from the table beside the sofa. Her hands shook so badly she could hardly blow her nose. Her body trembled with the jerky movements of a Parkinson’s patient.
“Is there someone we can call to come stay with you?” asked the worried paramedic. “You shouldn’t be alone at a time like this. Besides until the police find out who killed your friend, you could be in danger.”
“Oh, you’re a big help!” A burly detective, who towered over the scene, blustered from behind the paramedic. “Why don’t you wait outside until the medical examiner has finished with the body. We’ll look after this lady since she appears to be okay.” Andrea reached out to the man as if to a lifeline but she watched as he cleared away his equipment and m
oved toward the front door. The police officer watched as well, shaking his head, and then opened his pad.
“My name is Lieutenant Maxwell. While we wait for the county attorney to arrive and the criminal investigation team, let’s get some of the preliminary questions out of the way, if that’s okay with you. Would you like someone to get you some coffee before we start?”
“N-no, I don’t n-need anything right n-now. Um…maybe a glass of water.” The lieutenant motioned the request to an officer. The quiver in Andrea’s voice quieted a little but he kept his eye on her as he asked his first question. Once Lieutenant Maxwell determined Andrea’s relationship with the victim, he gathered background information on her. A uniformed man brought her some water. Andrea wrapped her hands around the cool clear glass. His next question reminded Andrea why he was there in the first place.
“Do you know any reason why someone, anyone, would want to kill this man?”
“No I don’t. I really don’t…err…didn’t know Max all that well. He came over a few t-t-t-times.” She pronounced one word at a time to keep a tight control on her emotions. “You know, for coffee. Sometimes he would stop by for s-s-some baking ingredient that he needed for a recipe. He’s always running out of sugar or something. Anyway, he seemed to bake a lot for a man living alone. Other than that, I never saw him. We didn’t socialize in the same circles.”
“Why did he walk over here today?”
“He came…um…I’m not sure exactly why he came over today. He’d just arrived when s-someone s-shot him.” Tears started again as Andrea thought about what she had just said. “Could someone w-w-w-ant to kill me as well? Maybe t-they m-missed.”
“What would make you think that?”
“Well, my closest friend disappeared two days ago and now this. I guess I . . I. . Things are not as quiet as they usually are around here. I’m just a little on edge.”
“Do you know of anyone who would want to harm you?”
“N-n-no? I mean NO. I get along with everyone. I’ve only lived here for a little over a year. I live a pretty quiet life…work…church…that kind of thing.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No…no one special. Jason Dwyer from work asked me out a couple of times but I’ve never gone out with him…yet.”
“Could he be the jealous type? I mean, could he think you preferred Max…”
“Never. I don’t have a relationship that is that close to anyone…except Diane Michner.”
“And that’s the lady who’s gone missing?”
“That’s right. Brian and I reported them missing just yesterday.”
“Who’s Brian?”
“Brian Strait. He’s Trent’s best friend. Trent is Diane’s husband and he’s missing too along with their three year old son. So Brian and I went together to the police station.”
“Who did you talk to there?”
“Lieutenant Kurshner at first but Lieutenant Smithen took over from him, I think.”
“I’ll talk to him when I get back to the precinct then. To answer your question about whether or not you are in danger, at this point it’s hard to say what’s going on. I really don’t know what to tell you about anything and won’t know until we are further along in the investigation. A murder is always so full of holes in the beginning. Later those questions get answered, but until then, there are too many to even speculate. What more can you tell me about Max?”
“Max. Shuster is his last name. All I really know about him is he’s thirty-five, single, and a good neighbor. Whenever I needed a man’s help, Max was willing to try to fix it. He’s not always good with mechanical things but he tries. He travels a lot, too.”
“Did you know any of his friends or business associates?”
“No, I’ve never met any of Max’s friends.”
•
The detective looked toward the body laying in the entryway. The man appeared to be about 5’10”, had a bushy mustache that gave him a mysterious appearance, but dressed with a conservative flair. His thick hair was beginning to gray at the temples. He could not see any other distinguishing marks from that distance. The coroner would have to fill in the details. He glanced back at Andrea.
•
“Max always seemed to me to be a man with things to do and places to see. He traveled a lot and he knew about stuff.” Andrea screwed up her nose in an attempt to concentrate on the detective’s questions. “You know. He’s someone who always has a ready answer for any question.”
“What kind of questions?” The detective peered at her over the rims of thick eyeglasses. He sucked on the end of his pencil as he waited for her to sip from the glass of water she held in her hand.
“Oh, you know, about stuff like you would read in the newspaper. Current events, EPA, things like that. Just conversation between friends.”
The police officer stood and held out his hand to Andrea. “Maybe you should stay with someone else for a few days until we can get some answers to our questions.”
“There is no one to stay with. Diane’s my only close friend.” Andrea hung her head and felt the tears flow freely again.
“It’ll take us most of the night to clear this crime scene before you can begin cleaning up all that blood. I’d get a professional service in, if I were you. Why not check into a motel tonight.”
“Fine, I guess I could do that.”
“Do you want us to take you to one?”
“No, that’s okay. I need my car with me, but do you think one of your officers could follow me—just in case. Could someone check on me occasionally through the night as well?”
“We can have someone follow you, but we’re too short handed to post a guard or anything else. I wish we could. The regular patrol car in that area could check though, but they only pass by about once or twice in the evening.”
“That’s okay. At least that will make me feel a little safer,” said Andrea. She walked toward her bedroom to gather some things for an overnight stay. Throwing nightclothes, a fresh outfit for the next day, and her toiletries into a suitcase, she trembled, and tears that had not really subsided, flowed once again. Her heart ached for Max. She missed him already.
A glance in the mirror almost frightened her. She looked like someone from a horror movie. She reefed off her blouse, and walked into her bathroom. She knew she would never wear these clothes again so she opened the vanity door and threw it into the waste basket under the sink. She emptied the pockets of her pants on the counter. Her shoes and underclothing followed her blouse into the garbage before she stepped under the hot spray of her shower.
Heart wrenching sobs filled the shower stall as quickly as the hot spray washed away the last signs of Max Schuster’s blood. Her body trembled and bile from too much stomach acid burned its way up her esophagus. She retched and then gagged again. Nothing. Swallowing repeatedly, she soaped every inch of her body, breathing in the clean scent of her favorite bath soap and then soaped herself again. Finally, she felt in control and stepped out to complete the task of packing for the night. She replaced everything into the pockets of her clean pants for the journey to a safe motel nearby.
* * * * *