AN ANGEL ON HIS SHOULDER
I've never been so mad in my life. Rage pours through me, how dare that son of a bitch do this to me? I watch him; he keeps pushing, keeps tightening, even after I'm gone. Tears are streaming down his face when he finally lets go of my neck, and I slump to the ground. He pulls me up, pressing me against his chest, stroking my hair, telling me how sorry he is. Sorry? You're sorry? Well, I feel much better now, you son of a bitch. As long as you're sorry, then it's ok that you killed me.
Something moves, and I catch it out of the corner of my eye. Two girls are standing there; one has her hand out to me. I've never seen them before, but I realize I somehow know them. Angie and Marie. They had been Henry's girlfriends too, and he killed them before me. Drowned them. I can't think of which way is worse, being drowned, or being strangled. I guess anyway you get murdered is worse than any other way. Angie is holding her hand out to me; I'm supposed to leave with them. But I can't. I won't. I'm going to stay here, and watch Henry pay for what he's done. I shake my head, Angie and Marie look at each other, and then they're gone.
And so is Henry. When I turn my attention back to the waterfront, all that's there is my body. I go up, feeling a little afraid, I don't know of what. It's my own body, and I'm already dead, what's there to be afraid of? I stand at my feet, Henry's left me crumpled, and it's almost a provocative pose. Huh. Guess I really didn't need to lose those 5 pounds after all. But I did need a haircut. Oh, that reminds me. I hope someone calls Maurice and tells him I won't make my appointment next week. And I was going somewhere after that.where was I going? Oh. Lunch with dad. I guess..Dad. Oh my God, what he's going to go through. You wouldn't think your heart could ache once you're dead, but it does. My chest tightens up as I think about my dad being told I'm dead. Henry is really going to pay for this. I don't care if I have to hang around here until he dies, so I can watch him to go straight into hell, I'm not leaving this planet until I have justice.
I've been found. Another morning jogger just passed me. He doubled back, and started to ask if I was all right. Guess he could tell by the unnatural angle of my head that I'm not. He turns his back on me and pulls a cell phone out of his sock. I can hear the 911 operator. It's not like I can hear her from his phone, it's more like I can hear her as if she was standing here with us. With him. He hangs up his phone, but doesn't turn back around. I don't blame him, really. I'm kind of gross to look at right now. It's only another moment until we hear the sirens. The man sees the police car, and runs up to it, pointing back at my body. The fire department pulls up. Paramedics rush over to me, and one kneels beside me feeling for a pulse. He looks up at the cop, shaking his head. The cop gets on his walkie-talkie microphone thing and tells whoever is on the other end to send a "meat wagon." Lovely.
I can see the cop pause for a moment, thinking to himself. He then gets back on the thing as says they'd better call Major Case's, that I look like "one of them girls." I figure he must mean Angie and Marie. Well. At least they've got us connected, that's something. Everyone kind of mills around, waiting for, I guess waiting for this Major Case's or whatever he called them. Someone covers me with a sheet. There's a cop taking pictures. Yeah, this is a Kodak moment.
A black SUV pulls up. A small blondish woman gets out of the drivers seat, and out of the passenger side comes what is probably the biggest man I have ever seen. Much bigger than Henry. Godamighty. Why couldn't I have met him when I was alive?
The first cop walks over to the SUV. I can hear him call them both "Detective" Ok; this must be the major case cops. The man detective, I hear someone call him Goren, he kneels down next to my body. I stand over him, wondering what he's looking at.
My feet. He's looking at my feet. My left ankle did start to swell, and this guy, Goren, he's already noticed it. He's a fast one.
"Abrasions on her hands and knees from the fall, she was probably attacked from behind, on the path." The lady detective says, she's crouched by my head.
Goren lifts the sheet that covers my body. Oh. That's embarrassing. "There are no drag marks, so she, probably hopped over here under her own steam, or with his help. Then he went to work on her." I'm amazed. Utterly amazed. How'd he do that? That is exactly what happened. We were jogging; Henry tripped me, helped me over here, and strangled me.
For the next half hour, they're doing their cop thing. Taking more pictures. Measuring. Stuff like that. It's all kind of interesting, really. Goren calls the lady detective by name, Eames. The ME's van pulls up. Two men in jumpsuits get out and pull a gurney and a black plastic bag out of the back. I don't know what's going to happen. I hope I don't have to stay with my body. I should have thought of that before I choose to stay here. Damn. I watch with apprehension as they put my body into the bag, and then put the bag on the gurney. Goren walks over to watch them. When the two jumpsuit guys raise the gurney to it's full height, so they can push it to the van (the meat wagon as that cop would say) Goren raises a hand to stop them and walks over. They hadn't zipped the bag up yet, and Goren reaches in and touches my cheek, lightly, and with, . with respect. "Sorry" he says quietly. He might have just thought it, I can't be sure. He lets go of me, reaches down and pulls the zipper up. I can't see my body anymore, and, it actually feels better this way. They push the gurney over to the van, load it and shut the doors. The two men get in and the engine starts. This is the moment of truth. Do I have to stay with my body? Will I automatically be pulled into Heaven, (hopefully Heaven)? I hold my breath. Well. I would be holding my breath if I had any. The van pulls out and drives away. Nothing happened. I'm still here. You know how, when something amazing, or horrible happens, you look to the people around you to see if they saw what you saw? Well I did that. I was so amazed I didn't have to go with my body, that I wanted to share the good news with someone. This is going to take some getting used to.
Goren and Eames head toward the SUV. I climb in. Right on top of Goren, as a matter of fact. Oh, I do whish I'd met him when I was alive. I fling myself into the backseat, and, resisting the urge to buckle my seat belt, settle in for the ride.
"The ME will run her prints, be nice to know who she is." Eames said. Goren made a grunting noise in response. Eames just shook her head and pulled out of the parking lot. Goren pulls down a leather case that's been resting on the dashboard. He unzips it and pulls out some photos. I can't resist. I sit up and lean over in between them. The photos are of Marie and Angie. Henry strangled them. He left Angie floating in her own bathtub. And Marie, Marie he left naked, lying on the beach. Goren moves the photos and starts to look for something else in his book. His NYPD id is strapped in on the inside cover. I can't resist, I lean over further to have a look. At this point my butt is nearly touching the roof of the vehicle. Detective Robert Goren. I say it out loud as I read it. And something strange happens. He looks at me. Well. He doesn't look at me, since he can't see me, but he does look my way. Like he heard me. Eames see's him looking, 'cause it looks like he's looking at her. "What?" She says, glancing over at him.
"Uh. Nothing, I guess. I don't know." And he goes back to looking at the pictures. Whoa. That was weird. Before I know it, we're at what must be their station, because we've parked, and they're getting out. If I were alive, I would probably been nearly running to keep up with Daddy Long Legs. I don't know how Eames does it. That's probably how she stays so thin. She wouldn't have to go jogging. No jogging, no Henry. No Henry, no being dead. Ugh. I'm getting pissed off again. They get on the elevator, so I follow. We ride up to the eleventh floor. Goren goes and sits down at his desk, Eames heads for the fax machine. Another man walks up as Goren is sitting down, he's a cop, you can tell, but there's a different air about him. I can't figure out what it is. Goren looks up, and sees the man. "None of the witness' saw her this morning, but they say she jogs most days, always alone." Ah. Ok. The new guy is their boss.
Eames comes back, "We got a pop on the joggers prints." I stand behind her, looking over her shoulder, reading the fax. "Deirdre Carnahan, 33." Yep, that's me.
"She has priors?" The boss man asks. I guess that means if I've been arrested.
"Her prints are in the system because she's a city employee. Court clerks office."
"Civil court." Goren says. It's not really a question. How does he do that?
Eames looks down at the papers, then back up at Goren. Her face looks as amazed as I feel. "Yes."
Goren looks up to their boss. "We have a woman who worked in civil court, where personal injury law suits are filed. We have a Jane Doe with a broken wrist and glass cuts on her back, probably from an accident. And we have Angie Suarez." He pauses, taking the papers Eames is handing him. "who was calling the law firm of Henry Talbot." he keeps talking but I'm to excited to listen. Yes, Yes, Yes. I pump my fist in the air. That's him. Now go arrest him.
"Well, go talk to this Talbot, see what he has to say." The boss man says, and walks away. See what he has to say? No, no, no! Arrest him and take him directly to the electric chair! No need for talking! Goren and Eames gather up some papers and head back to the elevator. Ugh. Well, at least I'll get to see the son of a bitch. Maybe I can mess with him, like ghosts do in the movies. Jeeze. I'm a ghost. I wonder what ghost like things I can do.
When we get back out to the parking lot, I hurry up, to get in front of them. I want to see if I can "pass through" the SUV. I don't really know how to go about this, so I try my hand first. Ouch. Nope, can't pass through things. Goren and Eames reach the car as I'm rubbing my hand. I'm on the passenger side, so when he politely opens the door, I sneak in. Yeah. I know. There wasn't really anything polite about it, but still.. As we're driving, they start talking about Angie and Marie. And me. Let me tell you, if you haven't heard two cops discussing your murder, well, I guess you haven't, it's an experience. As they're talking, I'm looking out the window. God I love New York. I'm going to miss it. We pull up to Henrys office. Again, I'm surprised at how quickly we got here. We walk in, and Goren tells the receptionist who they are, and why they're here. She smiles at him. I never did like her. She rings someone in the back, and we're escorted to Anna's office. Never liked her much either. Turns out that both Angie and Marie had filed lawsuits. Eames holds up Marie's picture, to them she's still Jane Doe. Anna tells them her name, and says that Marie was suing the strip club she worked at. A mirror fell on her while she was doing a lap dance. Anna almost crinkles her nose in distaste when she says lap dance. Wouldn't hurt her to do a couple of them, the cold bit. Henry. Right in front of me. Aaaauuuggghhh. All my anger comes flooding back. It's not fair. I shouldn't have to die. Come on, you son of a bitch; realize that I'm here, that I'm haunting your ass. "Anything I can help here with, Anna?" He asks. As if he doesn't already know. Anna tells introduces him to the detectives, and tells him they're here to ask about Angie and Marie.
"And why's that?" Henry asks. Jerk.
"They were found murdered, are you Henry Talbot?" Goren answered the question, and asks one right back. I really like this guy.
"Yeah. Jeeze. Uh. What happened?" He's doing a pretty good imitation of surprise.
Goren looks over at Anna, and tells Henry they should talk about it in his office. Oh good. Henry never let me see his office. In fact, the one time I came here, he got mad and wouldn't let me past reception. Jerk.
We go into Henrys office, and he starts saying how it's a freak thing, losing two clients like that. Then he starts to blame it on the kind of work the girls did. Yeah? Well what about me, ya jackass? Goren walks around Henrys office, looking at everything. Eames asks Henry a bunch of questions, Henry gives her b.s. answers. Goren sees the newspaper on Henrys desk. It's open to the sports page, and Henry has circled a bunch of the games. Smooth, Henry, real smooth. It's obvious that he's placing bets, but Henry doesn't admit it until after Goren assures him they're not vice. The phone rings. Henry's private line. 439-1429. I dialed that number so many times, I can't tell you. "It's my wife" Henry says. Well, of course it is, all your damn girlfriends are dead! Goren tells him not to mind them, but Henry says he does mind. So, Goren and Eames leave, but I have got to hear this phone call. "Yeah?" And just like with the 911 operator, I can hear the other person like she's right here. It's not his wife. His wife doesn't have a Russian accent. The Russian starts whining at him. Good God. There's one thing I can say, and that's that I never whined at Henry.
"You comink tonight?" she asks. "Yes, yes, I told you, I'll be there." Son of a bitch. Kills me in the morning, and goes out on a date that night. How many damn girlfriends to you have, Henry? I can't take any more of this. I'm out of here. Damn it. They shut the door. How the hell am I going to catch up with them now? Damn it. Ok. If my hand doesn't pass through the car, then I should be able to.I grab the knob. I turn it. The door opens. I look behind me, Henry can't figure out why the door just opened by itself, but screw him. I've got to run if I'm gonna catch Daddy Long Legs. I barley make it, but I slip into the car just before he shuts the door. Goren gets on his phone, calling law firms until he finds the lawyer who had been handling Angie's and Marie's law suites. The receptionist at that firm tells Goren (remember, I can hear her) that Rand Bauer's already left for the day, and then she offers to make an appointment for the morning. An appointment? The police don't make appointments! Goren doesn't answer her, just says he'll call again in the morning. Eames could tell by his side of the conversation that they weren't going to the other law office. "Well?" She asks. Goren looks at his watch.
"There's not much else we can do until we talk to Bauer. It's almost seven, let's call it a day." He doesn't like it, I can tell, but he says it. We ride in silence for a while. I start looking at New York again.
"Bobby," Eames' voice breaks the silence. Bobby? Oh. Robert. Yeah, he looks like a Bobby. Wonder what her first name is. "Did Talbot seem slimy to you?"
"Yeah. There's something wrong there, I just can't figure out what it is yet."
Silence again. That's ok with me. I'm beginning to worry about what's going to happen to me. What if you only get one chance to move on? And I passed it up. What if I'm doomed to stay here forever? All those people I love, who were waiting for me in Heaven. What if I never get to see them again? Oh God. What have I done? I'm about to find out if ghosts cry real tears when Eames steers the SUV next to a curb and puts it in park. Where are we? Do these two live together too? No. The engine is still running, and she's not moving. Bobby opens his door. "See you in the morning, 'round seven?"
"Yeah. Goodnight." He gets out of the car. Damn, I hadn't even thought about where I was going to spend the night. I watch as Bobby leans back in the car to retrieve his notebook case. What the hell, he's going to be a lot more fun than she will be. I slip out and follow him up the stairs.
Oh God. There's a wall, I kid you not, an entire wall that is nothing but bookshelves. Ceiling to floor, side to side, books. I can't help myself, I have to go look. Chemistry, history, Shakespeare, insects. Everything. Anything you could think of, he owns at least one book about it. I'd hate to have to help him move. They don't seem to be in any order, and all of them have broken in bindings. He's read them all. The shower comes on in the back of the apartment. Ohhh. It's so tempting, but no. I can't do that. I wonder down the hall, looking for his bedroom. This I have no shame about. There's steam billowing out of the bathroom. He left the door open. I stop, standing there in the hallway. It really is so tempting to just peek, I mean one little peak wouldn't hurt, would it? No. I'm not going to do that. I turn to my right, and go snoop through his bedroom instead. He doesn't make his bed. I never did either. I don't see the point, frankly. It's a rather plain bedroom, actually. No, I wasn't expecting a disco ball and mirrored ceiling, but there's only the bed, a nightstand with a lamp on it and a dresser. No photos, or personal little things. More books, of course. There are three of them piled at the base of the nightstand. Hey, the closet. Nothing special in here, just suites, ties, etc. No women's clothes, he must live alone. There are some cardboard boxes, up on the shelf. Probably just more books. I wonder if I can float. I squeeze my eyes shut really tight and think 'up'. Nothing. Ok, this is boring, and I want to go look at the books in the living room a little more closely. Oh sweet Jesus. I was so caught up in trying to float, I didn't hear the shower turn off. Or him walking into the room. I've got to much class to say anything more. Well. Let me just say this one thing. I now thoroughly, completely, astronomically wish that I had met him while I was alive. I leave the room, to let him get dressed, and go back out into the living room. Books, books, books. A guitar propped up in a corner. Art on the walls. I don't have a clue who the artists are, but they're not a bad couple of paintings. Oh. Here are some family photos. Could that little boy be him? It looks like it might be. He's so cute! Bobby walks into the living room. Dressed, thank God. He smells good. Clean. And he shaved. He flips on the stero, hey, Gershwin, one of my favorites! Then he goes into the kitchen, so I follow. Mama always said a good man will know how to feed himself. Good God. Cooking must be one of his hobbies. This man has more gadgets and appliances than Julia Child. He pulls some things out of the fridge, and starts cutting, chopping, dicing, whatever. Mama said that a good man would be able to feed himself, because she knew I wouldn't be able to feed him. I just can't cook. I sit down at the small table Bobby's got in his kitchen, watching him. I'm beginning to realize how much time I wasted dealing with the obscure and trivial. None of it really matters, I can see that now. I start to think about all the things I wish I'd done -Besides meeting Bobby. I should have told my dad I loved him more often. I should have danced and sung more often. There are just so many things. And yes, I should have not gotten involved with Henry. And not just because he ended up killing me, but because I just wasted so much time. Waiting for him to call, crying when he didn't. Such a waste of such precious time. Bobby puts a plate down in front of me, ought oh, he's going to sit on me. He steps away, pours a glass of wine, comes back to the table, and sits opposite me. His plate is over here, but he sits down over there. If I didn't know better, I'd say he knew I was here. He looks confused with himself too, and pulls his plate across the table so it's in front of him. He picks up a book that was lying face down on the table, that must be where he left it after last nights dinner, and reads as he eats. I watch him for a few moments, whishing I could talk to him. That's another thing I'm just beginning to realize I miss. Conversation. Human contact. I really hope I'm not stuck here forever, with no one to talk to. Henry just isn't worth that. Bobby's going to get him, I know he will. Ugh. Enough feeling sorry for myself. I get up and go back out into the living room, and look for a way to take advantage of my situation. I look at the books again. I can't believe one person's brain can hold all this stuff. He must use more than the average ten percent. A photo essay of the Swiss Alps, a biography of Aaron Burr, motorcycle repair. Motorcycle repair? Bobby? Yeah. That fits. Schizophrenia, there's a few books on that, and mental illness in general. Huh. Wonder if he had a suspect that was schizophrenic, and he was doing his homework. I hear him moving in the kitchen. The water running in the sink. Good Lord, he cooks and washes dishes. I keep wondering around the living room, trying to figure out what his hobbies are besides reading and cooking. Well, there is the guitar, but it looks like it hasn't been picked up in a while. There's an open spiral notebook on the coffee table. I bend down to look at the words. Poetry. He writes poetry. Pretty good at it too. I like the one I can see. There's a knock on the door. Bobby comes out of the kitchen drying his hands. He looks out the peep hole, unlocks and opens the door. "Hey Hewlett" he says to the man at the door. The guy isn't wearing a uniform, but he stands like he's a cop.
"Hi Detective. Cap asked me to bring these to you on my way home." He hands him a large manila envelope. "Thanks" Bobby says taking it. "You want to come in?"
"No. Thanks, I've got a date I'm already late for. See you tomorrow."
Bobby shuts the door, and leans up against it, opening the envelope. Pictures. Someone sent him pictures? I move so I'm standing next to him, against the door. It's me. It's the ME's photos of me. Just like the pictures of Angie and Marie he's been carrying with him. I wonder if that's what I used to look like when I was asleep. You know, Bobby has been staring at this picture way to long. I look up at him. I can't read anything on his face. He's just, looking. Another moment or two, and he's pulls the ME's report out from behind the photo. It lists my vital stuff, height, that stuff. It says how I died. It doesn't simply say strangled, it uses the doctor words and describes exactly what happened. We don't need to go into that. It's got other medical things as well. Pregnancy, no. VD, no - which is surprising, Henry was screwing, (at last count) four of us, plus his wife, but I'm not so sure about his wife. It goes on and on, but Bobby doesn't seem to be interested. He pulls the photo back out. I don't get it. What is it that he's looking at? Seen one dead body, seen 'em all. He heads over to his leather notebook case, and slips the photo and report inside with the others. He goes to the kitchen doorway, tossing the dishtowel inside, then walks to his wall of books. He looks them over, like he's trying to decide what he's in the mood for. He picks, get this, he picks Huckleberry Fin. Guess he needs to escape reality. He sits on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him, settling in with the book. I sit down too. On a chair that looks out the window. I watch the street outside. I watch the sun set, the moon rise and the stars come out one by one. When I look over at Bobby again, he's fallen asleep, the book laying open on his chest. I think about being able to open the door at Henrys office. I have to try. I walk over to him. I'm really nervous, as stupid as that is. I reach out, and brush a lock of hair from his forehead. He stirs at my touch. I go back to the seat by the window and watch the sky.
The night passes rather quickly. Bobby wakes up at 3 in the morning, and goes and climbs in bed. At 5:30, I hear his alarm, and Bobby starts cussing. Not a morning person. He gets up and I hear the shower running again. It's a shorter shower this time, and he comes walking down the hall, his hair dripping wet, a towel around his waist. Out of habit, I say Good Morning. I think I was kind of hoping he'd hear me. Like he seemed to hear me when I said his name in the car. No. I'm not wishing for a spiritual connection that's so strong is defies death itself. All I really want is for someone to hear me. He doesn't. He walks into the kitchen, yawning and from the sounds I hear, he's making coffee. I don't follow him around; the street coming to life is too interesting. I'm amazed at how many people are up at this time of morning. Garbage collectors. A woman in a sequined dress, her heels in her hand totters down the sidewalk. I hope she's going home. Joggers. Seeing them reminds me of Henry. Jogging with Henry. I was so surprised when he called yesterday morning, saying he was coming over to go running with me. We were having such a good time. Not going to fast, talking, laughing. Then he trips me, and the next thing I know I'm dead. I'm getting mad again. Come on Bobby, get dressed, let's go kick some ass. Just as I say that, he comes out of the hallway, into the living room. Nice suite Bobby, you've got good taste. As he's slipping into his holster, a horn honks from the street. He looks out the window, and holds up a hand. Eames must be here. He picks up his note book, pats his pockets to make sure he has his keys. I'm right beside him as he opens the door. "Lets go get Henry." he says.
Eames reaches over and opens his door from the inside. Bobby climbs in, and I scatter over him into the back seat. "Morning." she says, and hands him a plastic cup of coffee. She, obviously is a morning person.
"Thanks, Alex." Alex. Her name is Alex. Well, it's nice to meet you Alex. Bobby gives her the address of the law firm Rand Bauer works at now. He then tells her about the ME's report he got last night.
"Hewlett had a date?" Alex asks when he's finished.
"S'what he said."
We pull up to the curb in front of the new law firm. We go in, and Bobby tells the receptionist who they are, and she too, smiles at him, just like the one yesterday. Damn, this guy must do really well in a bar. The lawyer, Rand Bauer, comes out and we follow him back to his office. This place is a lot nicer than Henrys office is. Bobby and Alex sit down across the desk from Bauer. They ask him questions about the lawsuits. Bauer denies knowing anything until Bobby tells him that Angie and Marie are dead.
"Oh my God. Oh, that crazy son of a bitch!" Bauer exclaims. Got that right.
"Talbot." Bobby says. He already knows Henry did it, I can tell.
Bauer tells us, well, them, that both lawsuits were settled, but Henry kept the money, and that Henry was having affairs with them. Then he keeps going, telling them about Henry's gambling and coke problems. I'm thinking that pretty soon he's gonna give up the guy in the grassy knoll as well. Bobby doesn't seem to need to hear more. He stands up, thanking Bauer, and we leave. As we pass the receptionist, she wriggles her fingers at Bobby, waving goodbye. He doesn't seem to notice. Alex has a small smile on her face, guess that happens a lot. They stop on the sidewalk, next to the SUV. "What now?" She asks.
"Talbot did it." Bobby answers her. "I know he did. We need a search warrant." He pulls out his phone and presses one of the speed dial buttons. "Ron Carver, please." he pauses for a moment, listening "Detective Goren" another pause. "Ron. We need a search warrant." Bobby goes on to tell Ron (whoever that is) all about me, Angie, Marie, and Henry. We're getting in the SUV as he's talking. Alex starts the engine, waiting. "Ok. Thanks." Bobby hangs up his phone. "Let's head over there. Carver said it's enough for a judge to sign the warrant." Alex pulls out into traffic. I have no idea where we're going, but, I am just along for the ride. I wish they'd turn on the radio. A little Gershwin would be good right now. We pull up to the DA's office. So, this is where search warrants are born. There's a good-looking man, in a very good-looking suit, waiting on the sidewalk. Alex pulls the SUV up to the curb, Bobby rolls down his window as the man, it has to be Carver, walks up. He hands Bobby what I guess is a search warrant, it looks like the ones on TV anyway. "Thanks." Bobby says.
"Let me know." Carver tells him. Alex gives him a small wave, either a hello, or a thanks, and pulls out in to traffic. It's about an hour or so to Scarsdale, where Henry lives. I'm hoping up and down in the back seat. They're gonna arrest him, they're gonna arrest him! I hope that creep goes to jail, and I hope he becomes somebody's bitch. See how he likes it, ha! Either because I'm deliriously happy, or it's that weird time thing happening again, but we get to the house a lot sooner that I though we would. Or maybe Alex has a led foot. Either way, we're here, and Henry's days as a free man are numbered! The local police that Bobby had called are there and waiting for us. We get out of the car, and walk up to the front door. This isn't like TV at all. I expected, I don't know, I guess the SWAT team or something. A bunch of men dressed in all black scurrying around hunched over, surrounding the house. But, it's just us, and two uniformed cops behind us. Wait, a van. Maybe that's the SWAT team. No. Crime Scene Unit. I guess they're the ones who dust for fingerprints and such. Bobby knocks. After a moment or two, Henry's wife opens the door. I've never seen her before, but he had told me about her. He was lying then, too. She's not anything like he said. Expect maybe her clothes. She's wearing a light blue sweater set, and the outside sweater is buttoned all the way up. To me that's just a little severe.
"Mrs. Talbot? Is your husband home?" Alex says that. Bobby's is sizing her up.
"No, he's away working." She very cautiously, I guess I would be to if I were her.
"He's already left for his office?"
"No, I meant he's in Pittsburgh on business." Pittsburgh? Pittsburgh?! Oh, come on! What the hell could Henry have to do in Pittsburgh? Oh no. The Russian girl. Oh God, I bet she's dead.
"Arrest for what?" I hear Denise say. Denise that's his wife.
"Three murders." Bobby tells her, handing her the search warrant. Better make that four Bobby.
It's a beautiful house. Really. Denise has good taste, expect for men. (Yeah, I know, me too) I look around, as they're talking. They have kids. Henry never told me they had kids. God, now I feel like a total.bimbo. I gravitate back to the kitchen, where they've gone. Alex is telling Denise that they've checked the airlines, Henry didn't go to Pittsburgh.
"No." Denise tells her "He went to Pittsburgh."
Bobby must see that he's going to have to slap her in the face with the truth because he's pulling out our pictures. Angie's first. Bobby tells Denise that Angie was Henry's client, and his mistress. And that Henry stole $60,000.00 from her. Denise won't believe them; it's all over her face. Then he shows her Marie's picture. Alex tells her that Marie was also a client, and mistress, and that Henry stole her money. Out comes my picture. He tells her that I was another one of his mistress's. I never thought of myself as a mistress. Aren't mistress's supposed to wear long flowing black nightgowns, and heeled slippers with feathers on them? Bobby's telling Denise that Henry killed all of us. He might be getting through, but she's staring at the floor. Why the hell is she staring at the floor? Bobby's wondering the same thing, because he starts staring at it too. Trying to figure out what she's looking at. Denise tells him she's just thinking, and walks off to call her lawyer. Bobby's still looking at the floor. As he glances up at one of the crime scene techs, I'm thinking they should tap the phone. Henry always calls home. He calls home and he calls his.his bookie. They need to find his bookie. I turn to Bobby, like I'm gonna tell him my idea, and hear him saying ".that Talbot would stay in touch with, his bookie." He beat me by half a second. So back out to the car, and back to the city we go. All the way back, Alex is, almost raving, about Denise. She doesn't understand how some women can be so stupid. I take that a little personally. I tune her out, and try to enjoy the scenery.
They find the bookie. Police magic, I guess. He owns a diner. He tries to tell them that he doesn't know anything about bookmaking, he just owns a diner. It's not until Bobby tells him that Henry is a suspect in three murders that the bookie fesses up, and tells them Henry has already called in. He says the caller id had a Connecticut area code, and he heard some girl in the background. Some girl with a Russian accent. Oh no. Bobby's thinking the same thing I am, 'cause he whips out his cell phone to call the Connecticut state troopers.
After Bobby finishes the call, we get back into the SUV and head back to their office. There's a fax waiting when we get there. The Connecticut state troopers found a dead girl at a rest stop. Irena.something. She had one of those Russian names that only have a vowel or two. I bet Angie and Marie met her, like they did me. I should have been there too. I follow Bobby and their captain, (that has to be who he is) into some kind of conference room. Turns out that when we were at Henry's house, there was another search warrant being served at his office. They took his private phone. Alex is telling Bobby that five speed dial numbers have been erased. Five? I count quickly, I was number three, Irena was four.there's a girl still alive. Technicians also find a voice mail message; this girls voice is telling Henry that she can't make it. She calls him baby. I used to too, but now? Ick! Something she says on her message makes Bobby think she's a nurse. He's in deep thought. I bet he's making a connection between all those bottles of pills Denise has, (anti-depressants, sleeping pills, sedatives. They found them at the house) and the nurse. He doesn't say anything; he just walks away, back to his desk. I stay in the room with Alex and the techs. The captain watches Bobby leave, looks at Alex and shakes his head. He looks like a father who doesn't understand his kid. And, maybe he is, sort of. I don't think Alex understands how Bobby thinks, but she does accept it with out question. Bobby comes back in, and he's excited. He has found out which hospital the prescription bottles came from. Alex jumps to her feet; she and Bobby take off for the elevator, almost running. I'm right behind them. We get on the elevator, and Bobby pushes the button for the first floor and turns to Alex. "Do we have a picture of Talbot we can show them?"
"Yeah. I've got one that we obtained from his house."
Bobby nods his head, like he's approving. The doors open, and again, they're nearly running to the parking lot. Alex knows the side streets really well, and it's only a few minutes to the hospital. They find the head nurse, and she looks up the lot numbers for the prescription bottles, and confirms those are her bottles. She can't believe one of her nurses would give out drugs like that. Alex shows her Henry's picture. She knows him. She says he shows up handing out business cards. The man has no class. He bugs sick and hurt people. That ambulance chaser. Alex heads off to talk to all the nurses who are there on duty, and Bobby gets a list of those who are off, and starts calling them at home. There's nothing much for me to do, so I prop myself up against the wall, and wait. Bobby makes phone call after phone call. How many nurses are there? He finishes talking to the last one on the list, hanging up as Alex walks up. She looks defeated. They both do. Some chick down the hall is telling someone she's going home to put her feet up. Bobby and Alex look at each other, and take off after her. It's her. It has to be the fifth girlfriend. At least she's still alive. When I catch up to them, Alex has Henry's picture out, and they're both trying desperately to convince this woman that Henry is a murder. If she doesn't believe them, I hope they follow her home. I'd hate for her to find out the hard way that they were telling her the truth. It takes a bit of pushing, but she finally does believe them, and tells them Henry is at her apartment waiting for her. Alex writes down her address, and Bobby pulls out his cell phone, calling for back up to meet them there. And then were really running now. To the car. Alex starts the engine, as Bobby pulls out one of those detachable red lights that cops have. In the back seat, I'm hopping again. Damn near climbing the walls. It's kind of cool, watching the traffic get out of the way so we can speed past them. We get to the apartment, and run up the stairs. They pull out their guns. Bobby knocks on the door. A minute passes. Oh, hell, he's got to be here. The sound of a lock being undone comes from the other side of the door. Bobby and Alex raise their guns to the level where Henry's head will be. The door opens. Henry is standing there, in a robe, and wearing household plastic gloves. "Hey Don Juan," Bobby says raising his gun a little higher. "You're under arrest." YES YES YES! HA you son of a bitch, you're gonna fry! YEE-HA! I dance around the hall as Bobby shoves Henry up against the wall and slaps on the handcuffs. That's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. The back-up officers prod Henry down the stairs. Bobby and Alex walk into the apartment, and head straight for the bathroom. Sure enough, the tub's full. He was going to kill her. There's also coke that Henry must have been snorting right before we knocked on the door. We go downstairs. Henry has been loaded up into the back seat of the police cruiser. Alex and Bobby head toward the SUV. No. This time, I can't go with them. I'm gonna stay with Henry. I get in the car over the officer and scramble into the backseat. He looks like hell. I sit there and stare at him. Willing him to feel me there. He won't. He's to self centered. Egotistical jerk. I lean over, closer to him and lightly brush my finger against the tip of his nose. He can't scratch it; his hands are cuffed behind his back. He wiggles his nose. I tickle it again. He wiggles, I tickle. I do this all the way back to the police station.
When we get there, I watch the officers put him behind bars. That's what I've been waiting to see, and gratification sweeps over me. I look around, trying to figure out what happens to me now. Nothing. There's no sign or bright light. Maybe I am stuck here. I look at Henry one more time. Pathetic. I go off to find Bobby. He's not at his desk, so I try the captain's office. The doors ajar, so I'm able to squeeze through, but the door does move a little. Alex seems to be the only one who notices, but she doesn't give it a second thought. The good-looking man from earlier this morning, the one who's probably Carver, he's pacing back and forth, telling them that there is no evidence against Henry in any of the murders, all he can charge him with is possession. Bobby looks over at Alex, and tells her that Henry needs to be caught in the act. He tells her that she needs to let Henry come on to her in the interagation room. Denise is already on her way down, and Bobby will take her in, on the other side of the mirror, so she'll see Henry flirting with her. Bobby thinks that once she actually sees him "cheating" on her, then she'll tell them what she knows. Bobby's convinced she knows something that will implicate him. So, when Denise arrives a few minutes later, Bobby takes her into the room where she'll be able to see everything, and Alex goes to Henry's cell. When Henry starts flirting with her, she doesn't discourage him. I walk up to the bars, I'm face to face with him, and he doesn't even know it. I watch his eyes. He's excited about the possibility of a new girlfriend. I can understand that, seeing as how he's so recently lost all his others. Creep. Bobby comes in, acting like a jerk to Alex. Henry tells him to leave her alone. Yeah, right. Tough guy when there are bars between you and him. Bobby leaves, and goes back to Denise. Alex takes Henry out of his cell, and brings him into the interrogation room. She knows Bobby and Denise are on the other side of the glass, but Henry doesn't. You're about to get caught Henry. He starts in again, flirting. Only coming on stronger this time. He's tells Alex that he listens to women and then gives them what they want. He said that to me! Oh, gag me; I can't believe I fell for it. After a few minutes of listening to him, I feel like I'm about to puke. Denise must have told Bobby what he wanted to hear, because he comes in the room.
"Looks like you started with out me." Henry makes a face, shaking his head at Alex, like he's sharing some private joke with her. Every question Bobby asks, Henry answers, but he's looking at Alex the whole time.
"Why are you looking at her, when I'm the one talking to you?" Bobby asks him after a few questions. "I'm being polite." Henry says. Yeah, right.
"You were coming on to her, weren't you?" Henry just laughs, again, looking at Alex like they're sharing a joke. Bobby looks at Alex "You had enough of this guy?"
"Plenty" she says and stands up. "I need to go wash off the slime." HA! You go girl!
Bobby chuckles as Alex leaves the room. He looks at Henry. "She's." it's almost like he's about to share some male bonding, but then Bobby continues like he's just thought of something. "She's your type." Then he makes a couple of motions with his hands, which I guess is supposed to describe how small Alex is. I am too. We all were. Henry likes petite women. "Like your girlfriends, Angie, Marie, Irena." Why didn't he mention me? What the hell? I'm the one that stuck around. "You know," Bobby begins, "I have a theory about why certain men are attracted to petite women, you wanna hear it?" Henry says no, but Bobby doesn't pay any attention. "Petite women are a snug fit for small men." And then he gestures toward Henry's crotch. OH MY GOD. Oh, that's hitting below the belt. HA! Bobby keeps talking, but I just can't listen, I'm laughing to hard. I can't help it. He's right! I take a couple deep breaths, to calm down enough so I can listen. "Well, come on man, you're a small guy." Bobby says, and brings his leg up, plunking his foot down on the table. "What size shoe do you wear? I wear a 13." He sure as hell does. "You look like a 9, or more like an 8?" That's it. I can't hold it in anymore, I double up with laughter. All I hear is Bobby telling Henry that he must have always felt inadequate, that's why he was always screwing around. "You couldn't hack it with the big law firms, you couldn't.measure up, whops.to your peers." Now Bobby's even laughing, but I'm pretty sure it's not genuine.
Henry is up out of his chair, pacing back and forth. Hollering that he didn't kill us, he was at home "just ask my wife."
"We did." Bobby says, suddenly serious. "She told us about Marie's red blouse, the white jacket, in the trunk of your car. She knows your game, Henry. She's been watching you" Bobby points to the mirror "since you came in here with Detective Eames." Henry panics. He rushes up to the mirror, cupping his hands around his eyes.
"Denise. Denise. It's not true Denise. It's only been you, it's only been you, I swear to God."
"She's through being your lifeboat, Henry, this time she's letting you drown." That's an appropriate metaphor, now, isn't it?
Henry pounds his fist against the glass. "You bitch. Why do you think I did this, huh? I did it for you! Do you hear me? I did it for you!"
Bobby's not done yet. "Know what she told me? She takes drugs because you couldn't satisfy her, you never could get her over the hump." Well, glad to hear it wasn't just me.
Henry looses it, smashing his fists against the glass, shattering the mirror. Denise and Alex are right on the other side, backing up, covering their eyes. Bobby grabs Henry from behind, and heaves him down onto the table. Didn't I tell you he could kick his ass? Henry's still screaming, calling Denise a bitch as the cops drag him down the hall. Alex walks in, looking at the broken glass all over the floor. She looks at Bobby. "Now she gets to go home and tell her kids." Shaking her head, she leaves the room. Bobby sits down, more like collapses, and rubs his eyes.
Angie, Marie, and Irena are here. I guess I do get to move on after all. They're smiling at me. Ok. I can go now. I walk toward them, but stop when I reach Bobby. He's leaned his head back, his eyes closed. I lean down and kiss him on the forehead. Thanks Bobby. I look over at the other girls, From all of us. Angie holds out her hand to me, and this time, I take it.
Alex walks back in with a broom in her hands and sees Bobby staring at the corner. "What?" she asks. He looks up at her, with something like surprise and confusion. "I.I don't know. Nothing I guess." He says, and rubs his forehead.
I've never been so mad in my life. Rage pours through me, how dare that son of a bitch do this to me? I watch him; he keeps pushing, keeps tightening, even after I'm gone. Tears are streaming down his face when he finally lets go of my neck, and I slump to the ground. He pulls me up, pressing me against his chest, stroking my hair, telling me how sorry he is. Sorry? You're sorry? Well, I feel much better now, you son of a bitch. As long as you're sorry, then it's ok that you killed me.
Something moves, and I catch it out of the corner of my eye. Two girls are standing there; one has her hand out to me. I've never seen them before, but I realize I somehow know them. Angie and Marie. They had been Henry's girlfriends too, and he killed them before me. Drowned them. I can't think of which way is worse, being drowned, or being strangled. I guess anyway you get murdered is worse than any other way. Angie is holding her hand out to me; I'm supposed to leave with them. But I can't. I won't. I'm going to stay here, and watch Henry pay for what he's done. I shake my head, Angie and Marie look at each other, and then they're gone.
And so is Henry. When I turn my attention back to the waterfront, all that's there is my body. I go up, feeling a little afraid, I don't know of what. It's my own body, and I'm already dead, what's there to be afraid of? I stand at my feet, Henry's left me crumpled, and it's almost a provocative pose. Huh. Guess I really didn't need to lose those 5 pounds after all. But I did need a haircut. Oh, that reminds me. I hope someone calls Maurice and tells him I won't make my appointment next week. And I was going somewhere after that.where was I going? Oh. Lunch with dad. I guess..Dad. Oh my God, what he's going to go through. You wouldn't think your heart could ache once you're dead, but it does. My chest tightens up as I think about my dad being told I'm dead. Henry is really going to pay for this. I don't care if I have to hang around here until he dies, so I can watch him to go straight into hell, I'm not leaving this planet until I have justice.
I've been found. Another morning jogger just passed me. He doubled back, and started to ask if I was all right. Guess he could tell by the unnatural angle of my head that I'm not. He turns his back on me and pulls a cell phone out of his sock. I can hear the 911 operator. It's not like I can hear her from his phone, it's more like I can hear her as if she was standing here with us. With him. He hangs up his phone, but doesn't turn back around. I don't blame him, really. I'm kind of gross to look at right now. It's only another moment until we hear the sirens. The man sees the police car, and runs up to it, pointing back at my body. The fire department pulls up. Paramedics rush over to me, and one kneels beside me feeling for a pulse. He looks up at the cop, shaking his head. The cop gets on his walkie-talkie microphone thing and tells whoever is on the other end to send a "meat wagon." Lovely.
I can see the cop pause for a moment, thinking to himself. He then gets back on the thing as says they'd better call Major Case's, that I look like "one of them girls." I figure he must mean Angie and Marie. Well. At least they've got us connected, that's something. Everyone kind of mills around, waiting for, I guess waiting for this Major Case's or whatever he called them. Someone covers me with a sheet. There's a cop taking pictures. Yeah, this is a Kodak moment.
A black SUV pulls up. A small blondish woman gets out of the drivers seat, and out of the passenger side comes what is probably the biggest man I have ever seen. Much bigger than Henry. Godamighty. Why couldn't I have met him when I was alive?
The first cop walks over to the SUV. I can hear him call them both "Detective" Ok; this must be the major case cops. The man detective, I hear someone call him Goren, he kneels down next to my body. I stand over him, wondering what he's looking at.
My feet. He's looking at my feet. My left ankle did start to swell, and this guy, Goren, he's already noticed it. He's a fast one.
"Abrasions on her hands and knees from the fall, she was probably attacked from behind, on the path." The lady detective says, she's crouched by my head.
Goren lifts the sheet that covers my body. Oh. That's embarrassing. "There are no drag marks, so she, probably hopped over here under her own steam, or with his help. Then he went to work on her." I'm amazed. Utterly amazed. How'd he do that? That is exactly what happened. We were jogging; Henry tripped me, helped me over here, and strangled me.
For the next half hour, they're doing their cop thing. Taking more pictures. Measuring. Stuff like that. It's all kind of interesting, really. Goren calls the lady detective by name, Eames. The ME's van pulls up. Two men in jumpsuits get out and pull a gurney and a black plastic bag out of the back. I don't know what's going to happen. I hope I don't have to stay with my body. I should have thought of that before I choose to stay here. Damn. I watch with apprehension as they put my body into the bag, and then put the bag on the gurney. Goren walks over to watch them. When the two jumpsuit guys raise the gurney to it's full height, so they can push it to the van (the meat wagon as that cop would say) Goren raises a hand to stop them and walks over. They hadn't zipped the bag up yet, and Goren reaches in and touches my cheek, lightly, and with, . with respect. "Sorry" he says quietly. He might have just thought it, I can't be sure. He lets go of me, reaches down and pulls the zipper up. I can't see my body anymore, and, it actually feels better this way. They push the gurney over to the van, load it and shut the doors. The two men get in and the engine starts. This is the moment of truth. Do I have to stay with my body? Will I automatically be pulled into Heaven, (hopefully Heaven)? I hold my breath. Well. I would be holding my breath if I had any. The van pulls out and drives away. Nothing happened. I'm still here. You know how, when something amazing, or horrible happens, you look to the people around you to see if they saw what you saw? Well I did that. I was so amazed I didn't have to go with my body, that I wanted to share the good news with someone. This is going to take some getting used to.
Goren and Eames head toward the SUV. I climb in. Right on top of Goren, as a matter of fact. Oh, I do whish I'd met him when I was alive. I fling myself into the backseat, and, resisting the urge to buckle my seat belt, settle in for the ride.
"The ME will run her prints, be nice to know who she is." Eames said. Goren made a grunting noise in response. Eames just shook her head and pulled out of the parking lot. Goren pulls down a leather case that's been resting on the dashboard. He unzips it and pulls out some photos. I can't resist. I sit up and lean over in between them. The photos are of Marie and Angie. Henry strangled them. He left Angie floating in her own bathtub. And Marie, Marie he left naked, lying on the beach. Goren moves the photos and starts to look for something else in his book. His NYPD id is strapped in on the inside cover. I can't resist, I lean over further to have a look. At this point my butt is nearly touching the roof of the vehicle. Detective Robert Goren. I say it out loud as I read it. And something strange happens. He looks at me. Well. He doesn't look at me, since he can't see me, but he does look my way. Like he heard me. Eames see's him looking, 'cause it looks like he's looking at her. "What?" She says, glancing over at him.
"Uh. Nothing, I guess. I don't know." And he goes back to looking at the pictures. Whoa. That was weird. Before I know it, we're at what must be their station, because we've parked, and they're getting out. If I were alive, I would probably been nearly running to keep up with Daddy Long Legs. I don't know how Eames does it. That's probably how she stays so thin. She wouldn't have to go jogging. No jogging, no Henry. No Henry, no being dead. Ugh. I'm getting pissed off again. They get on the elevator, so I follow. We ride up to the eleventh floor. Goren goes and sits down at his desk, Eames heads for the fax machine. Another man walks up as Goren is sitting down, he's a cop, you can tell, but there's a different air about him. I can't figure out what it is. Goren looks up, and sees the man. "None of the witness' saw her this morning, but they say she jogs most days, always alone." Ah. Ok. The new guy is their boss.
Eames comes back, "We got a pop on the joggers prints." I stand behind her, looking over her shoulder, reading the fax. "Deirdre Carnahan, 33." Yep, that's me.
"She has priors?" The boss man asks. I guess that means if I've been arrested.
"Her prints are in the system because she's a city employee. Court clerks office."
"Civil court." Goren says. It's not really a question. How does he do that?
Eames looks down at the papers, then back up at Goren. Her face looks as amazed as I feel. "Yes."
Goren looks up to their boss. "We have a woman who worked in civil court, where personal injury law suits are filed. We have a Jane Doe with a broken wrist and glass cuts on her back, probably from an accident. And we have Angie Suarez." He pauses, taking the papers Eames is handing him. "who was calling the law firm of Henry Talbot." he keeps talking but I'm to excited to listen. Yes, Yes, Yes. I pump my fist in the air. That's him. Now go arrest him.
"Well, go talk to this Talbot, see what he has to say." The boss man says, and walks away. See what he has to say? No, no, no! Arrest him and take him directly to the electric chair! No need for talking! Goren and Eames gather up some papers and head back to the elevator. Ugh. Well, at least I'll get to see the son of a bitch. Maybe I can mess with him, like ghosts do in the movies. Jeeze. I'm a ghost. I wonder what ghost like things I can do.
When we get back out to the parking lot, I hurry up, to get in front of them. I want to see if I can "pass through" the SUV. I don't really know how to go about this, so I try my hand first. Ouch. Nope, can't pass through things. Goren and Eames reach the car as I'm rubbing my hand. I'm on the passenger side, so when he politely opens the door, I sneak in. Yeah. I know. There wasn't really anything polite about it, but still.. As we're driving, they start talking about Angie and Marie. And me. Let me tell you, if you haven't heard two cops discussing your murder, well, I guess you haven't, it's an experience. As they're talking, I'm looking out the window. God I love New York. I'm going to miss it. We pull up to Henrys office. Again, I'm surprised at how quickly we got here. We walk in, and Goren tells the receptionist who they are, and why they're here. She smiles at him. I never did like her. She rings someone in the back, and we're escorted to Anna's office. Never liked her much either. Turns out that both Angie and Marie had filed lawsuits. Eames holds up Marie's picture, to them she's still Jane Doe. Anna tells them her name, and says that Marie was suing the strip club she worked at. A mirror fell on her while she was doing a lap dance. Anna almost crinkles her nose in distaste when she says lap dance. Wouldn't hurt her to do a couple of them, the cold bit. Henry. Right in front of me. Aaaauuuggghhh. All my anger comes flooding back. It's not fair. I shouldn't have to die. Come on, you son of a bitch; realize that I'm here, that I'm haunting your ass. "Anything I can help here with, Anna?" He asks. As if he doesn't already know. Anna tells introduces him to the detectives, and tells him they're here to ask about Angie and Marie.
"And why's that?" Henry asks. Jerk.
"They were found murdered, are you Henry Talbot?" Goren answered the question, and asks one right back. I really like this guy.
"Yeah. Jeeze. Uh. What happened?" He's doing a pretty good imitation of surprise.
Goren looks over at Anna, and tells Henry they should talk about it in his office. Oh good. Henry never let me see his office. In fact, the one time I came here, he got mad and wouldn't let me past reception. Jerk.
We go into Henrys office, and he starts saying how it's a freak thing, losing two clients like that. Then he starts to blame it on the kind of work the girls did. Yeah? Well what about me, ya jackass? Goren walks around Henrys office, looking at everything. Eames asks Henry a bunch of questions, Henry gives her b.s. answers. Goren sees the newspaper on Henrys desk. It's open to the sports page, and Henry has circled a bunch of the games. Smooth, Henry, real smooth. It's obvious that he's placing bets, but Henry doesn't admit it until after Goren assures him they're not vice. The phone rings. Henry's private line. 439-1429. I dialed that number so many times, I can't tell you. "It's my wife" Henry says. Well, of course it is, all your damn girlfriends are dead! Goren tells him not to mind them, but Henry says he does mind. So, Goren and Eames leave, but I have got to hear this phone call. "Yeah?" And just like with the 911 operator, I can hear the other person like she's right here. It's not his wife. His wife doesn't have a Russian accent. The Russian starts whining at him. Good God. There's one thing I can say, and that's that I never whined at Henry.
"You comink tonight?" she asks. "Yes, yes, I told you, I'll be there." Son of a bitch. Kills me in the morning, and goes out on a date that night. How many damn girlfriends to you have, Henry? I can't take any more of this. I'm out of here. Damn it. They shut the door. How the hell am I going to catch up with them now? Damn it. Ok. If my hand doesn't pass through the car, then I should be able to.I grab the knob. I turn it. The door opens. I look behind me, Henry can't figure out why the door just opened by itself, but screw him. I've got to run if I'm gonna catch Daddy Long Legs. I barley make it, but I slip into the car just before he shuts the door. Goren gets on his phone, calling law firms until he finds the lawyer who had been handling Angie's and Marie's law suites. The receptionist at that firm tells Goren (remember, I can hear her) that Rand Bauer's already left for the day, and then she offers to make an appointment for the morning. An appointment? The police don't make appointments! Goren doesn't answer her, just says he'll call again in the morning. Eames could tell by his side of the conversation that they weren't going to the other law office. "Well?" She asks. Goren looks at his watch.
"There's not much else we can do until we talk to Bauer. It's almost seven, let's call it a day." He doesn't like it, I can tell, but he says it. We ride in silence for a while. I start looking at New York again.
"Bobby," Eames' voice breaks the silence. Bobby? Oh. Robert. Yeah, he looks like a Bobby. Wonder what her first name is. "Did Talbot seem slimy to you?"
"Yeah. There's something wrong there, I just can't figure out what it is yet."
Silence again. That's ok with me. I'm beginning to worry about what's going to happen to me. What if you only get one chance to move on? And I passed it up. What if I'm doomed to stay here forever? All those people I love, who were waiting for me in Heaven. What if I never get to see them again? Oh God. What have I done? I'm about to find out if ghosts cry real tears when Eames steers the SUV next to a curb and puts it in park. Where are we? Do these two live together too? No. The engine is still running, and she's not moving. Bobby opens his door. "See you in the morning, 'round seven?"
"Yeah. Goodnight." He gets out of the car. Damn, I hadn't even thought about where I was going to spend the night. I watch as Bobby leans back in the car to retrieve his notebook case. What the hell, he's going to be a lot more fun than she will be. I slip out and follow him up the stairs.
Oh God. There's a wall, I kid you not, an entire wall that is nothing but bookshelves. Ceiling to floor, side to side, books. I can't help myself, I have to go look. Chemistry, history, Shakespeare, insects. Everything. Anything you could think of, he owns at least one book about it. I'd hate to have to help him move. They don't seem to be in any order, and all of them have broken in bindings. He's read them all. The shower comes on in the back of the apartment. Ohhh. It's so tempting, but no. I can't do that. I wonder down the hall, looking for his bedroom. This I have no shame about. There's steam billowing out of the bathroom. He left the door open. I stop, standing there in the hallway. It really is so tempting to just peek, I mean one little peak wouldn't hurt, would it? No. I'm not going to do that. I turn to my right, and go snoop through his bedroom instead. He doesn't make his bed. I never did either. I don't see the point, frankly. It's a rather plain bedroom, actually. No, I wasn't expecting a disco ball and mirrored ceiling, but there's only the bed, a nightstand with a lamp on it and a dresser. No photos, or personal little things. More books, of course. There are three of them piled at the base of the nightstand. Hey, the closet. Nothing special in here, just suites, ties, etc. No women's clothes, he must live alone. There are some cardboard boxes, up on the shelf. Probably just more books. I wonder if I can float. I squeeze my eyes shut really tight and think 'up'. Nothing. Ok, this is boring, and I want to go look at the books in the living room a little more closely. Oh sweet Jesus. I was so caught up in trying to float, I didn't hear the shower turn off. Or him walking into the room. I've got to much class to say anything more. Well. Let me just say this one thing. I now thoroughly, completely, astronomically wish that I had met him while I was alive. I leave the room, to let him get dressed, and go back out into the living room. Books, books, books. A guitar propped up in a corner. Art on the walls. I don't have a clue who the artists are, but they're not a bad couple of paintings. Oh. Here are some family photos. Could that little boy be him? It looks like it might be. He's so cute! Bobby walks into the living room. Dressed, thank God. He smells good. Clean. And he shaved. He flips on the stero, hey, Gershwin, one of my favorites! Then he goes into the kitchen, so I follow. Mama always said a good man will know how to feed himself. Good God. Cooking must be one of his hobbies. This man has more gadgets and appliances than Julia Child. He pulls some things out of the fridge, and starts cutting, chopping, dicing, whatever. Mama said that a good man would be able to feed himself, because she knew I wouldn't be able to feed him. I just can't cook. I sit down at the small table Bobby's got in his kitchen, watching him. I'm beginning to realize how much time I wasted dealing with the obscure and trivial. None of it really matters, I can see that now. I start to think about all the things I wish I'd done -Besides meeting Bobby. I should have told my dad I loved him more often. I should have danced and sung more often. There are just so many things. And yes, I should have not gotten involved with Henry. And not just because he ended up killing me, but because I just wasted so much time. Waiting for him to call, crying when he didn't. Such a waste of such precious time. Bobby puts a plate down in front of me, ought oh, he's going to sit on me. He steps away, pours a glass of wine, comes back to the table, and sits opposite me. His plate is over here, but he sits down over there. If I didn't know better, I'd say he knew I was here. He looks confused with himself too, and pulls his plate across the table so it's in front of him. He picks up a book that was lying face down on the table, that must be where he left it after last nights dinner, and reads as he eats. I watch him for a few moments, whishing I could talk to him. That's another thing I'm just beginning to realize I miss. Conversation. Human contact. I really hope I'm not stuck here forever, with no one to talk to. Henry just isn't worth that. Bobby's going to get him, I know he will. Ugh. Enough feeling sorry for myself. I get up and go back out into the living room, and look for a way to take advantage of my situation. I look at the books again. I can't believe one person's brain can hold all this stuff. He must use more than the average ten percent. A photo essay of the Swiss Alps, a biography of Aaron Burr, motorcycle repair. Motorcycle repair? Bobby? Yeah. That fits. Schizophrenia, there's a few books on that, and mental illness in general. Huh. Wonder if he had a suspect that was schizophrenic, and he was doing his homework. I hear him moving in the kitchen. The water running in the sink. Good Lord, he cooks and washes dishes. I keep wondering around the living room, trying to figure out what his hobbies are besides reading and cooking. Well, there is the guitar, but it looks like it hasn't been picked up in a while. There's an open spiral notebook on the coffee table. I bend down to look at the words. Poetry. He writes poetry. Pretty good at it too. I like the one I can see. There's a knock on the door. Bobby comes out of the kitchen drying his hands. He looks out the peep hole, unlocks and opens the door. "Hey Hewlett" he says to the man at the door. The guy isn't wearing a uniform, but he stands like he's a cop.
"Hi Detective. Cap asked me to bring these to you on my way home." He hands him a large manila envelope. "Thanks" Bobby says taking it. "You want to come in?"
"No. Thanks, I've got a date I'm already late for. See you tomorrow."
Bobby shuts the door, and leans up against it, opening the envelope. Pictures. Someone sent him pictures? I move so I'm standing next to him, against the door. It's me. It's the ME's photos of me. Just like the pictures of Angie and Marie he's been carrying with him. I wonder if that's what I used to look like when I was asleep. You know, Bobby has been staring at this picture way to long. I look up at him. I can't read anything on his face. He's just, looking. Another moment or two, and he's pulls the ME's report out from behind the photo. It lists my vital stuff, height, that stuff. It says how I died. It doesn't simply say strangled, it uses the doctor words and describes exactly what happened. We don't need to go into that. It's got other medical things as well. Pregnancy, no. VD, no - which is surprising, Henry was screwing, (at last count) four of us, plus his wife, but I'm not so sure about his wife. It goes on and on, but Bobby doesn't seem to be interested. He pulls the photo back out. I don't get it. What is it that he's looking at? Seen one dead body, seen 'em all. He heads over to his leather notebook case, and slips the photo and report inside with the others. He goes to the kitchen doorway, tossing the dishtowel inside, then walks to his wall of books. He looks them over, like he's trying to decide what he's in the mood for. He picks, get this, he picks Huckleberry Fin. Guess he needs to escape reality. He sits on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him, settling in with the book. I sit down too. On a chair that looks out the window. I watch the street outside. I watch the sun set, the moon rise and the stars come out one by one. When I look over at Bobby again, he's fallen asleep, the book laying open on his chest. I think about being able to open the door at Henrys office. I have to try. I walk over to him. I'm really nervous, as stupid as that is. I reach out, and brush a lock of hair from his forehead. He stirs at my touch. I go back to the seat by the window and watch the sky.
The night passes rather quickly. Bobby wakes up at 3 in the morning, and goes and climbs in bed. At 5:30, I hear his alarm, and Bobby starts cussing. Not a morning person. He gets up and I hear the shower running again. It's a shorter shower this time, and he comes walking down the hall, his hair dripping wet, a towel around his waist. Out of habit, I say Good Morning. I think I was kind of hoping he'd hear me. Like he seemed to hear me when I said his name in the car. No. I'm not wishing for a spiritual connection that's so strong is defies death itself. All I really want is for someone to hear me. He doesn't. He walks into the kitchen, yawning and from the sounds I hear, he's making coffee. I don't follow him around; the street coming to life is too interesting. I'm amazed at how many people are up at this time of morning. Garbage collectors. A woman in a sequined dress, her heels in her hand totters down the sidewalk. I hope she's going home. Joggers. Seeing them reminds me of Henry. Jogging with Henry. I was so surprised when he called yesterday morning, saying he was coming over to go running with me. We were having such a good time. Not going to fast, talking, laughing. Then he trips me, and the next thing I know I'm dead. I'm getting mad again. Come on Bobby, get dressed, let's go kick some ass. Just as I say that, he comes out of the hallway, into the living room. Nice suite Bobby, you've got good taste. As he's slipping into his holster, a horn honks from the street. He looks out the window, and holds up a hand. Eames must be here. He picks up his note book, pats his pockets to make sure he has his keys. I'm right beside him as he opens the door. "Lets go get Henry." he says.
Eames reaches over and opens his door from the inside. Bobby climbs in, and I scatter over him into the back seat. "Morning." she says, and hands him a plastic cup of coffee. She, obviously is a morning person.
"Thanks, Alex." Alex. Her name is Alex. Well, it's nice to meet you Alex. Bobby gives her the address of the law firm Rand Bauer works at now. He then tells her about the ME's report he got last night.
"Hewlett had a date?" Alex asks when he's finished.
"S'what he said."
We pull up to the curb in front of the new law firm. We go in, and Bobby tells the receptionist who they are, and she too, smiles at him, just like the one yesterday. Damn, this guy must do really well in a bar. The lawyer, Rand Bauer, comes out and we follow him back to his office. This place is a lot nicer than Henrys office is. Bobby and Alex sit down across the desk from Bauer. They ask him questions about the lawsuits. Bauer denies knowing anything until Bobby tells him that Angie and Marie are dead.
"Oh my God. Oh, that crazy son of a bitch!" Bauer exclaims. Got that right.
"Talbot." Bobby says. He already knows Henry did it, I can tell.
Bauer tells us, well, them, that both lawsuits were settled, but Henry kept the money, and that Henry was having affairs with them. Then he keeps going, telling them about Henry's gambling and coke problems. I'm thinking that pretty soon he's gonna give up the guy in the grassy knoll as well. Bobby doesn't seem to need to hear more. He stands up, thanking Bauer, and we leave. As we pass the receptionist, she wriggles her fingers at Bobby, waving goodbye. He doesn't seem to notice. Alex has a small smile on her face, guess that happens a lot. They stop on the sidewalk, next to the SUV. "What now?" She asks.
"Talbot did it." Bobby answers her. "I know he did. We need a search warrant." He pulls out his phone and presses one of the speed dial buttons. "Ron Carver, please." he pauses for a moment, listening "Detective Goren" another pause. "Ron. We need a search warrant." Bobby goes on to tell Ron (whoever that is) all about me, Angie, Marie, and Henry. We're getting in the SUV as he's talking. Alex starts the engine, waiting. "Ok. Thanks." Bobby hangs up his phone. "Let's head over there. Carver said it's enough for a judge to sign the warrant." Alex pulls out into traffic. I have no idea where we're going, but, I am just along for the ride. I wish they'd turn on the radio. A little Gershwin would be good right now. We pull up to the DA's office. So, this is where search warrants are born. There's a good-looking man, in a very good-looking suit, waiting on the sidewalk. Alex pulls the SUV up to the curb, Bobby rolls down his window as the man, it has to be Carver, walks up. He hands Bobby what I guess is a search warrant, it looks like the ones on TV anyway. "Thanks." Bobby says.
"Let me know." Carver tells him. Alex gives him a small wave, either a hello, or a thanks, and pulls out in to traffic. It's about an hour or so to Scarsdale, where Henry lives. I'm hoping up and down in the back seat. They're gonna arrest him, they're gonna arrest him! I hope that creep goes to jail, and I hope he becomes somebody's bitch. See how he likes it, ha! Either because I'm deliriously happy, or it's that weird time thing happening again, but we get to the house a lot sooner that I though we would. Or maybe Alex has a led foot. Either way, we're here, and Henry's days as a free man are numbered! The local police that Bobby had called are there and waiting for us. We get out of the car, and walk up to the front door. This isn't like TV at all. I expected, I don't know, I guess the SWAT team or something. A bunch of men dressed in all black scurrying around hunched over, surrounding the house. But, it's just us, and two uniformed cops behind us. Wait, a van. Maybe that's the SWAT team. No. Crime Scene Unit. I guess they're the ones who dust for fingerprints and such. Bobby knocks. After a moment or two, Henry's wife opens the door. I've never seen her before, but he had told me about her. He was lying then, too. She's not anything like he said. Expect maybe her clothes. She's wearing a light blue sweater set, and the outside sweater is buttoned all the way up. To me that's just a little severe.
"Mrs. Talbot? Is your husband home?" Alex says that. Bobby's is sizing her up.
"No, he's away working." She very cautiously, I guess I would be to if I were her.
"He's already left for his office?"
"No, I meant he's in Pittsburgh on business." Pittsburgh? Pittsburgh?! Oh, come on! What the hell could Henry have to do in Pittsburgh? Oh no. The Russian girl. Oh God, I bet she's dead.
"Arrest for what?" I hear Denise say. Denise that's his wife.
"Three murders." Bobby tells her, handing her the search warrant. Better make that four Bobby.
It's a beautiful house. Really. Denise has good taste, expect for men. (Yeah, I know, me too) I look around, as they're talking. They have kids. Henry never told me they had kids. God, now I feel like a total.bimbo. I gravitate back to the kitchen, where they've gone. Alex is telling Denise that they've checked the airlines, Henry didn't go to Pittsburgh.
"No." Denise tells her "He went to Pittsburgh."
Bobby must see that he's going to have to slap her in the face with the truth because he's pulling out our pictures. Angie's first. Bobby tells Denise that Angie was Henry's client, and his mistress. And that Henry stole $60,000.00 from her. Denise won't believe them; it's all over her face. Then he shows her Marie's picture. Alex tells her that Marie was also a client, and mistress, and that Henry stole her money. Out comes my picture. He tells her that I was another one of his mistress's. I never thought of myself as a mistress. Aren't mistress's supposed to wear long flowing black nightgowns, and heeled slippers with feathers on them? Bobby's telling Denise that Henry killed all of us. He might be getting through, but she's staring at the floor. Why the hell is she staring at the floor? Bobby's wondering the same thing, because he starts staring at it too. Trying to figure out what she's looking at. Denise tells him she's just thinking, and walks off to call her lawyer. Bobby's still looking at the floor. As he glances up at one of the crime scene techs, I'm thinking they should tap the phone. Henry always calls home. He calls home and he calls his.his bookie. They need to find his bookie. I turn to Bobby, like I'm gonna tell him my idea, and hear him saying ".that Talbot would stay in touch with, his bookie." He beat me by half a second. So back out to the car, and back to the city we go. All the way back, Alex is, almost raving, about Denise. She doesn't understand how some women can be so stupid. I take that a little personally. I tune her out, and try to enjoy the scenery.
They find the bookie. Police magic, I guess. He owns a diner. He tries to tell them that he doesn't know anything about bookmaking, he just owns a diner. It's not until Bobby tells him that Henry is a suspect in three murders that the bookie fesses up, and tells them Henry has already called in. He says the caller id had a Connecticut area code, and he heard some girl in the background. Some girl with a Russian accent. Oh no. Bobby's thinking the same thing I am, 'cause he whips out his cell phone to call the Connecticut state troopers.
After Bobby finishes the call, we get back into the SUV and head back to their office. There's a fax waiting when we get there. The Connecticut state troopers found a dead girl at a rest stop. Irena.something. She had one of those Russian names that only have a vowel or two. I bet Angie and Marie met her, like they did me. I should have been there too. I follow Bobby and their captain, (that has to be who he is) into some kind of conference room. Turns out that when we were at Henry's house, there was another search warrant being served at his office. They took his private phone. Alex is telling Bobby that five speed dial numbers have been erased. Five? I count quickly, I was number three, Irena was four.there's a girl still alive. Technicians also find a voice mail message; this girls voice is telling Henry that she can't make it. She calls him baby. I used to too, but now? Ick! Something she says on her message makes Bobby think she's a nurse. He's in deep thought. I bet he's making a connection between all those bottles of pills Denise has, (anti-depressants, sleeping pills, sedatives. They found them at the house) and the nurse. He doesn't say anything; he just walks away, back to his desk. I stay in the room with Alex and the techs. The captain watches Bobby leave, looks at Alex and shakes his head. He looks like a father who doesn't understand his kid. And, maybe he is, sort of. I don't think Alex understands how Bobby thinks, but she does accept it with out question. Bobby comes back in, and he's excited. He has found out which hospital the prescription bottles came from. Alex jumps to her feet; she and Bobby take off for the elevator, almost running. I'm right behind them. We get on the elevator, and Bobby pushes the button for the first floor and turns to Alex. "Do we have a picture of Talbot we can show them?"
"Yeah. I've got one that we obtained from his house."
Bobby nods his head, like he's approving. The doors open, and again, they're nearly running to the parking lot. Alex knows the side streets really well, and it's only a few minutes to the hospital. They find the head nurse, and she looks up the lot numbers for the prescription bottles, and confirms those are her bottles. She can't believe one of her nurses would give out drugs like that. Alex shows her Henry's picture. She knows him. She says he shows up handing out business cards. The man has no class. He bugs sick and hurt people. That ambulance chaser. Alex heads off to talk to all the nurses who are there on duty, and Bobby gets a list of those who are off, and starts calling them at home. There's nothing much for me to do, so I prop myself up against the wall, and wait. Bobby makes phone call after phone call. How many nurses are there? He finishes talking to the last one on the list, hanging up as Alex walks up. She looks defeated. They both do. Some chick down the hall is telling someone she's going home to put her feet up. Bobby and Alex look at each other, and take off after her. It's her. It has to be the fifth girlfriend. At least she's still alive. When I catch up to them, Alex has Henry's picture out, and they're both trying desperately to convince this woman that Henry is a murder. If she doesn't believe them, I hope they follow her home. I'd hate for her to find out the hard way that they were telling her the truth. It takes a bit of pushing, but she finally does believe them, and tells them Henry is at her apartment waiting for her. Alex writes down her address, and Bobby pulls out his cell phone, calling for back up to meet them there. And then were really running now. To the car. Alex starts the engine, as Bobby pulls out one of those detachable red lights that cops have. In the back seat, I'm hopping again. Damn near climbing the walls. It's kind of cool, watching the traffic get out of the way so we can speed past them. We get to the apartment, and run up the stairs. They pull out their guns. Bobby knocks on the door. A minute passes. Oh, hell, he's got to be here. The sound of a lock being undone comes from the other side of the door. Bobby and Alex raise their guns to the level where Henry's head will be. The door opens. Henry is standing there, in a robe, and wearing household plastic gloves. "Hey Don Juan," Bobby says raising his gun a little higher. "You're under arrest." YES YES YES! HA you son of a bitch, you're gonna fry! YEE-HA! I dance around the hall as Bobby shoves Henry up against the wall and slaps on the handcuffs. That's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. The back-up officers prod Henry down the stairs. Bobby and Alex walk into the apartment, and head straight for the bathroom. Sure enough, the tub's full. He was going to kill her. There's also coke that Henry must have been snorting right before we knocked on the door. We go downstairs. Henry has been loaded up into the back seat of the police cruiser. Alex and Bobby head toward the SUV. No. This time, I can't go with them. I'm gonna stay with Henry. I get in the car over the officer and scramble into the backseat. He looks like hell. I sit there and stare at him. Willing him to feel me there. He won't. He's to self centered. Egotistical jerk. I lean over, closer to him and lightly brush my finger against the tip of his nose. He can't scratch it; his hands are cuffed behind his back. He wiggles his nose. I tickle it again. He wiggles, I tickle. I do this all the way back to the police station.
When we get there, I watch the officers put him behind bars. That's what I've been waiting to see, and gratification sweeps over me. I look around, trying to figure out what happens to me now. Nothing. There's no sign or bright light. Maybe I am stuck here. I look at Henry one more time. Pathetic. I go off to find Bobby. He's not at his desk, so I try the captain's office. The doors ajar, so I'm able to squeeze through, but the door does move a little. Alex seems to be the only one who notices, but she doesn't give it a second thought. The good-looking man from earlier this morning, the one who's probably Carver, he's pacing back and forth, telling them that there is no evidence against Henry in any of the murders, all he can charge him with is possession. Bobby looks over at Alex, and tells her that Henry needs to be caught in the act. He tells her that she needs to let Henry come on to her in the interagation room. Denise is already on her way down, and Bobby will take her in, on the other side of the mirror, so she'll see Henry flirting with her. Bobby thinks that once she actually sees him "cheating" on her, then she'll tell them what she knows. Bobby's convinced she knows something that will implicate him. So, when Denise arrives a few minutes later, Bobby takes her into the room where she'll be able to see everything, and Alex goes to Henry's cell. When Henry starts flirting with her, she doesn't discourage him. I walk up to the bars, I'm face to face with him, and he doesn't even know it. I watch his eyes. He's excited about the possibility of a new girlfriend. I can understand that, seeing as how he's so recently lost all his others. Creep. Bobby comes in, acting like a jerk to Alex. Henry tells him to leave her alone. Yeah, right. Tough guy when there are bars between you and him. Bobby leaves, and goes back to Denise. Alex takes Henry out of his cell, and brings him into the interrogation room. She knows Bobby and Denise are on the other side of the glass, but Henry doesn't. You're about to get caught Henry. He starts in again, flirting. Only coming on stronger this time. He's tells Alex that he listens to women and then gives them what they want. He said that to me! Oh, gag me; I can't believe I fell for it. After a few minutes of listening to him, I feel like I'm about to puke. Denise must have told Bobby what he wanted to hear, because he comes in the room.
"Looks like you started with out me." Henry makes a face, shaking his head at Alex, like he's sharing some private joke with her. Every question Bobby asks, Henry answers, but he's looking at Alex the whole time.
"Why are you looking at her, when I'm the one talking to you?" Bobby asks him after a few questions. "I'm being polite." Henry says. Yeah, right.
"You were coming on to her, weren't you?" Henry just laughs, again, looking at Alex like they're sharing a joke. Bobby looks at Alex "You had enough of this guy?"
"Plenty" she says and stands up. "I need to go wash off the slime." HA! You go girl!
Bobby chuckles as Alex leaves the room. He looks at Henry. "She's." it's almost like he's about to share some male bonding, but then Bobby continues like he's just thought of something. "She's your type." Then he makes a couple of motions with his hands, which I guess is supposed to describe how small Alex is. I am too. We all were. Henry likes petite women. "Like your girlfriends, Angie, Marie, Irena." Why didn't he mention me? What the hell? I'm the one that stuck around. "You know," Bobby begins, "I have a theory about why certain men are attracted to petite women, you wanna hear it?" Henry says no, but Bobby doesn't pay any attention. "Petite women are a snug fit for small men." And then he gestures toward Henry's crotch. OH MY GOD. Oh, that's hitting below the belt. HA! Bobby keeps talking, but I just can't listen, I'm laughing to hard. I can't help it. He's right! I take a couple deep breaths, to calm down enough so I can listen. "Well, come on man, you're a small guy." Bobby says, and brings his leg up, plunking his foot down on the table. "What size shoe do you wear? I wear a 13." He sure as hell does. "You look like a 9, or more like an 8?" That's it. I can't hold it in anymore, I double up with laughter. All I hear is Bobby telling Henry that he must have always felt inadequate, that's why he was always screwing around. "You couldn't hack it with the big law firms, you couldn't.measure up, whops.to your peers." Now Bobby's even laughing, but I'm pretty sure it's not genuine.
Henry is up out of his chair, pacing back and forth. Hollering that he didn't kill us, he was at home "just ask my wife."
"We did." Bobby says, suddenly serious. "She told us about Marie's red blouse, the white jacket, in the trunk of your car. She knows your game, Henry. She's been watching you" Bobby points to the mirror "since you came in here with Detective Eames." Henry panics. He rushes up to the mirror, cupping his hands around his eyes.
"Denise. Denise. It's not true Denise. It's only been you, it's only been you, I swear to God."
"She's through being your lifeboat, Henry, this time she's letting you drown." That's an appropriate metaphor, now, isn't it?
Henry pounds his fist against the glass. "You bitch. Why do you think I did this, huh? I did it for you! Do you hear me? I did it for you!"
Bobby's not done yet. "Know what she told me? She takes drugs because you couldn't satisfy her, you never could get her over the hump." Well, glad to hear it wasn't just me.
Henry looses it, smashing his fists against the glass, shattering the mirror. Denise and Alex are right on the other side, backing up, covering their eyes. Bobby grabs Henry from behind, and heaves him down onto the table. Didn't I tell you he could kick his ass? Henry's still screaming, calling Denise a bitch as the cops drag him down the hall. Alex walks in, looking at the broken glass all over the floor. She looks at Bobby. "Now she gets to go home and tell her kids." Shaking her head, she leaves the room. Bobby sits down, more like collapses, and rubs his eyes.
Angie, Marie, and Irena are here. I guess I do get to move on after all. They're smiling at me. Ok. I can go now. I walk toward them, but stop when I reach Bobby. He's leaned his head back, his eyes closed. I lean down and kiss him on the forehead. Thanks Bobby. I look over at the other girls, From all of us. Angie holds out her hand to me, and this time, I take it.
Alex walks back in with a broom in her hands and sees Bobby staring at the corner. "What?" she asks. He looks up at her, with something like surprise and confusion. "I.I don't know. Nothing I guess." He says, and rubs his forehead.