Law and Order: Criminal Intent
The Ballad of Leonard Schultz
AnneMarie Donahue
Professor Emily Sullivan turned the volume up on her computer trying desperately to block out the noise. Next door her "colleague" was engaged in some very intense mentoring. Emily buried herself back into her work, focusing deliberately on correcting the papers.
Her office was small, made smaller by the piles of books that climbed from floor to ceiling, blocking out the natural light from the single window the office afforded. Her monitor illuminated the desk area well enough to read the god awful reports. An over-head florescent light filled in the rest of the room, casting weird angular shadows over the crowded little room.
Suddenly one of the books on the over-stuffed shelves fell to the floor, Emily looked over and realized that the entire bookcase was rocking gently with the obnoxious sex going on next door. Disgusted she shook her head, turned off her monitor and stuffing her papers in her bag left the office. In the hallway she shot a glare at the door which read, "Leonard Schultz, PhD."
Fifteen minutes later Leonard was watching his graduate assistant Shelia put on her black high heeled shoes. She smiled at him knowingly. The room was humid, damp. It was every bit as crowded as Emily's but with less books. His corkboard had crayon drawings of self-portraits signed by their artists.
"Am I going to see you later tonight?" He asked Shelia.
"I don't know, I have to work at the bookstore." She flipped her long blonde hair to one side, struggling on the other shoe. Leonard reached and grabbed her hip; he pulled her into his lap. She put up a faint struggle and rubbed his chest with her hands.
"Come on, I want to see you again today." He ran his hand up her back, under her hair.
"When is your wife going to get wise?" Shelia shot at him.
Leonard's smile dropped quickly and he pursed his lips. He grabbed the back of her hair hard and yanked sharply. Shelia let out a gasp but didn't take her eyes off Leonard's or move her body. Leonard relaxed his hand after a moment and smoothed down her hair. Shelia's breathing slowly returned to normal.
Leonard stood up almost knocking Shelia to her feet. He practically walked over her, standing at least a foot taller than her. Shelia backed into the door. Leonard leaned in and whispered into her ear, his breathe hot on her cheek, "so, I'm going to see you tonight, right?"
Shelia could only nod. He reached behind her, twisted the door knob and let her out. Shelia almost fell into the hallway and ran up the stairs. She was scared, but his temper also excited her. She would most certainly meet him again after work.
Emily returned from her afternoon classes, she passed Leonard's office and noticed that the light was on. She could hear the faint sound of typing coming from within and thought how ironic it was that he was actually working for once. Of course, it was during his three o'clock class. She rapped on the door sharply and called in, "hey, you're missing class." She didn't stop to hear a response but did notice that the typing stopped only to resume after a second or two.
Emily stepped into her office and slammed her door behind her. She turned on her monitor and turned on her internet radio. Emily threw out the contents of her book bag onto her desk and began to correct papers diligently. She worked well into the evening, not leaving for dinner. She heard Leonard's door shut lightly and glanced at the clock noting that the time was 6:15, late for the "family man."
Emily woke up to the shrieking in the hallway. She had fallen asleep at her desk correcting papers. She got up quickly and ran into the hallway to catch Shelia, Leonard's graduate assistant running into hallway and falling onto the floor. She went to Shelia, thinking her was hurt.
"Shelia, what's wrong?" She grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up. Shelia hung like a limp rag on the wall, she was sobbing hysterically and pointing into Leonard's office. His door was open, but Emily couldn't see anything out of place, until she noticed the floor.
Shelia's shoes had tracked the thick syrupy blood out into the hallway; she had left long streaks in the office where it was coming from. Stepping gingerly Emily walked up to the office door and pushed it open further, but the door caught on something. She stepped closer into the room, making sure not to step in what she was hoping wasn't blood. She peaked around the corner into the office and spotted Leonard's body rocking gently in his chair. His throat had been cut deeply. Blood was drying on the wall, but what was left looked as though it had sprayed up and ran down to the floor to join the pool that had leaked out of his neck, down his drenched his and pants. The stench was horrid, Emily felt bile rising in her throat and covered her mouth to stifle a gag. She turned and spotted Shelia sobbing in shock.
"Are you okay?" Emily asked Shelia. Shelia could only nod, indicating that whatever had happened in the office had evidently not happened to her.
Emily walked back to her office and phoned the police.
Detective Goren was too large to be comfortable in the offices provided for the humanities professors at New York City College. His partner Detective Eames had to maneuvour in and out of the crevaces of the office to assertain what had happened.
"His throat's been slashed, that's the cause of death. Right to left, which is not usual, since the jugular is on the left side of the throat. More pain, less damage." Eames backed out of the office door into the hallway, to allow the medical examiner to exit the room. She removed her latext gloves and motioned for the assistants to bag and remove the body.
Eames put her hands in her pocket, "does it look like a suicide?"
"Not really," the ME shook her head. "People watch a lot of TV these days, cop shows and hospital shows. Most people know that the jugular left side of the neck."
"Yeah, and most people slash their wrists, not their throats." Eames added.
"Exactly. It's just odd, but I can't rule out a suicide until I run a tox screen and make sure there were no drugs in the system." The ME walked away.
Eames walked over to Detective Goren and shrugged up at him. "For a suicide, it's pretty gruesome, and to make it worse, he's got pictures from his kids hanging in his office. It doesn't really fit a suicide."
"Well, let's see what the neighbors think." Goren titled his head at Emily and Shelia. Emily, after calling the police, had led Shelia over to the stairwell and sat her down, in an attempt to calm her. It wasn't working, Shelia was becoming more agitated by the moment. She saw the two detectives approach and became hysterical again.
"I just found him that way!" Shelia bolted up and practically screamed at the detectives.
Emily stood beside her, placing her hands on her shoulders. Emily had never even liked this girl, but she couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for her. She had kept her mouth shut on the affair, even gone as far as to lie to the department head about it, but Shelia was, after all, a student and Emily took her job as mentor very seriously. She would make sure that Shelia was calmed down before being left alone with either of these cops.
"Calm down," she whispered to Shelia, "I won't let them talk to you alone, but you have to stay calm."
Goren raised his eyebrow at that, but was silenced when he saw Emily hold his gaze. She narrowed her eyes as if to say, 'back off.'
Eames could read the coldness between him and the professor; instinctively she decided that it would be better to appear in charge.
"Miss St. Charles, you found the body?" Eames led into the conversation easily.
"Yes." Shelia answered in a short steady voice. She was calming down, and Emily took her hands away, hoping that the girl could finally stand on her own. People in New York pretended to be so tough, but really people from Boston were the ones who couldn't be bothered to get upset. It wasn't that they were tough, rather obtuse.
"What were you doing meeting him in his office at this hour?" Eames asked looking directly at Shelia, who had begun to squirm.
"Uhm, I'm his graduate assistant, and he had left some work for me to do." Shelia was obviously lying. Emily refused to betray a student, so she kept her eyes locked firmly on the ground, afraid that any facial expression would show her thoughts. Inwardly, she wanted Shelia to come clean and admit the affair, the detectives weren't stupid and they would only be pissed off to find out that she had lied.
"Did Dr. Schultz often leave work for his assistants, Dr. O'Sullivan?" Goren directed his question across Eames and Shelia. He noticed that she was starring at the floor and knew that she was more aware of what went on behind that closed door than she would care to admit.
"Sullivan, I got sick of the jokes, and I wouldn't know, I'm not a grad assistant." Goren was again surprised to see this midget of a professor hold his gaze again.
"Sorry, let's talk over here." He indicated to Emily's office door, which she had left open. Emily looked at Shelia to get approval before leaving. Shelia nodded, she seemed she would be okay with the nice woman officer, and Emily was certain she could hand the enormous Italian. God, she missed Boston, every cop was Irish, and she was related to half the force. Emily walked into her office, followed by Detective Goren who positioned himself awkwardly in the chair in front of her desk. She walked around behind her desk; the offices were too small to afford anything more congenial.
As soon as she sat to face him Emily felt bad about how they had started the conversation and wanted to set things right.
"Listen, I'm not rude, not really. I'm just not used to New York. In Boston, if you find a body in your office it's had the decency to clean up after itself." That got a slight chuckle from the detective and Emily felt herself warming to him a little. "I was in my office until I heard Shelia scream from the hallway."
"What were you doing today?" Goren opened his folder in front of him and began to take notes.
Suddenly Emily felt the symptoms of a panic attack coming on. Her hands began to shake so she instinctively sat on them. "I was here in the morning and early afternoon, and then I had a class at two. After that I came back here at 3:15, maybe 3:20. I could hear typing coming from Leonard's office, I tapped on his door and called in to remind him he was late for his three o'clock class. I came into my office and shut the door, began correcting papers, I heard his office door close at 6:15, I looked right at my computer monitor when I heard the door shut. Then I must have fallen asleep because I woke up to Shelia's screaming."
Emily could hear the words in her head clearly enough, but she could also feel the cold chill running down her face and her heart beating through her chest. Goren, thankfully recognized the slurring speech and the pale color she suddenly adopted and began looking around for the fridge.
He found it underneath a pile of books, opened the door and looked at her for directions.
"Glucomine." Emily choked out. She brought up her shaking hands and reached for the plastic tube the detective handed her. She squeezed the contents out into her mouth and waited for her body to take control of itself.
Goren watched with concern. Emily slowly calmed, but she looked exhausted. He felt bad for intimidating her earlier. It was an effect that usually worked, short men are bullies, but short women are usually easy to manage. This one was all wrong.
"Are you going to be okay?" He asked in a way of a truce.
Emily nodded weakly. "I have panic attacks, that will unfortunately deplete my blood sugar and I get all shaky and useless. I will have to eat soon, the glucomine does the job but it doesn't work that well." Emily rubbed the back of her neck, she wasn't in the habit of asking people out in the middle of a murder investigation but then inflexibility is the sign of a weak mind. "If you need me to answer questions, I need food."
Goren nodded. He and Emily left the office. "Eames," Goren called over to his partner, "I'm going for a walk." She nodded as though this were the norm of their investigations. Emily thought this explained the number of unsolved crimes in this city.
Goren led Emily out onto the street. It was a clear early December day. The semester was coming to a close and the students were busy preparing for finals, term papers and packing. Emily liked campus best when students were just arriving or just leaving, it seemed more alive at those times. It was as if the college had fallen asleep and was just waking up to recall that it was late for a job interview.
Goren liked to talk while walking and the setting of a busy campus locked within an even busier city acting on him.
"I'm Detective Goren, I'm sorry I never introduced myself, Dr. Sullivan."
Emily shook her head strongly, "Professor Sullivan, and please just call me Emily." She noticed he looked confused, "oh, I have a PhD, but I don't practice medicine, so I don't think it's right that I call myself doctor."
"Fair enough," Goren reasoned. "I was hoping you could tell me about Professor Schultz."
Emily walked directly up the hotdog stand, Goren felt his stomach turn. Emily looked back to make sure he was still behind her, Emily walked too fast for most people. She noticed the look on his face, "I'm hungry, and you don't have to eat."
Goren watched Emily get in line and order two of the most disgusting chilidogs he had ever seen. She walked over to the raised cement planters, handed her food to Goren, perched herself on the planter's side and took the first of the two dogs from Goren. She took a large first bite and began to swing her feet happily. He smiled at the thought that she could be so easily fixed.
"I don't really know much about Schultz, except that he would make you call him doctor." Goren smiled at Emily and she noticed for the first time that he actually had a rather charming smile. "He was having an affair with Shelia. It's not my place to tell you, but the sooner you know the less trouble she'll be in, right?" Goren nodded and Emily continued. "I didn't know him, but what I did know, I didn't like. He would blow off students and classes, talked down to other people in the department, he was a narcissist. Which is why I don't think it was suicide."
"Why do you say that?" Goren handed her the second hotdog and walked over to get her a soda.
"Well, I really shouldn't say, but guys like that just don't commit suicide." Emily shrugged and took the opened coke from Goren. "What's your first name?"
Goren was taken aback by the question and how it just jumped out of her. He stammered out "Robert" quickly, afraid that she would think he made it up.
"I have a cousin named Robert on the force back home."
"You're related to a cop?" Goren gave Emily a hand down from the planter and they started their way back to campus.
"I'm related to a lot of cops."
Goren and Emily returned to campus and found Eames finishing with Shelia. Eames approached Goren. "Are you done?" She asked with minor annoyance in her voice.
Goren agreed and turned to Emily. "If we need you again we'll call. I hope you are feeling better." He extended his hand and Emily took it shaking it slightly.
"Thanks, I hope to see you again." She suddenly had a strange look on her face and realized that she had said the single most stupid think that day. In the background two forensic officers were cleaning the blood from the office.
Goren laughed and walked away with Eames.
"So was your date fun?" Eames poked at Goren.
Goren frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. "It wasn't a date, and yes it was fun."
Back at the station Goren and Eames reported to the Captain. The two detectives sit relaxed in chairs as the captain paces around his desk.
"It's a tough call. It appears to be suicide, but the personality just doesn't match." Goren started off.
The captain nodded, "we're getting some pressure from this. The guy's wife is old money. Hillings publishing fortune. So the sooner we can tie this up the better."
Eames stepped up. "He's got a motive. The girlfriend/graduate assistant told me that his wife was pretty smart. She thought she noticed someone following her about campus a week prior, could have been a private detective digging up information for a divorce."
"Let's talk to the wife." The captain insisted.
Inside a very posh penthouse in Manhattan Mrs. Jillian Hillings-Schultz sat with perfect posture on her uncomfortable looking couch. Eames sat in an equally uncomfortable lolling chair, while Goren walked around the den looking at photos.
"We're very sorry for your lose." Eames started, she could play the 'woman' angle to her advantage, as this didn't appear to be a women that Goren could charm.
"I'm not." Jillian said without batting an eyelash. "I was planning on divorce and was waiting before filing the paperwork. My husband never signed a pre-nup and I didn't want him getting anything. Fortunately I don't have to worry about that, now." She smiled sweetly at Eames who raised an eyebrow.
"Mrs. Hillings-Schultz, I have to warn you that you are incriminating yourself.."
"It's just Hillings and please, call me Jillian. I don't like standing on ceremony and I never liked Schultz." She smiled and took a long inhale off of a cool cigarette. "And I'd like to point out to the nosey detective behind me," she never took her eyes off Eames, "that he won't find a smoking gun in my china cabinet."
Goren walked around to stand by Eames. "Where were you yesterday?" He asked pointedly.
Jillian smiled, raised her eye and stabbed out her cigarette into the astray on the coffee table. "Darn, I was hoping we'd play more of the cat-and-mouse game. I was at my parent's house in Connecticut all yesterday. They, as well as their friends the Kreiser-Francis' and the Donahue's can verify that. I had my two daughters with me. My driver brought us up, and we stayed until eight that night, we arrived back here at ten. My driver stayed at the house with us, you can verify that with the house staff, he took lunch and dinner with them as well as played several hands of poker with one of the grounds keepers."
"It didn't bother you that he was just goofing around?" Goren asked gesturing his hands out widely.
Jillian wrinkled her brow, "why should I care?"
Goren sat behind his desk shuffling paperwork slowly across his desk. Eames smirked at the piles, wondering if this was an evolution to completed tasks or simply a circular motion of papers.
Eames sighed loudly enough to get Goren to look up. After years of training Goren had learned to take his eyes off the desk and respond to his partner.
"The ME's report is in." She tapped her computer monitor, "Professor Schultz's tox screen came back negative. He wasn't on anything."
Goren covered his mouth, Eames recognized the face. He was thinking.
"Maybe we should take another run at the girlfriend?" Eames offered. She felt there was something on campus that they hadn't uncovered. Eames knew Bobby well enough to assume that if she felt this he most certainly did too.
Goren looked up and nodded.
"Ms. St. Chares, can we have a word with you?" Detective Eames called out to the leggy blonde walking briskly across campus.
Shelia quickens her pace and pushes her behind her ear nervously. "Listen, can we do this some other time, I'm on my way to class."
"I'm sorry but it's going to be right now and we can do this either here, or at our campus." Eames grabbed Shelia's arm and stopped her before she could break into a jog.
"Fine," she exhaled.
"You told Detective Eames that you had been at class during the murder." Detective Goren wabbled back and forth constantly leaning too close only to jerk back.
"Yes, that's right. I had a lit. class." Shelia shrugged.
"No, you see that's wrong." Eames interjected. "You claimed that your class with Dr. Chisunka went from two until four and according to the registrar's office, he doesn't teach any classes that day."
Shelia looked at her shoes, "it was a meeting in his office?"
"Like the meeting you had with Dr. Schultz?" Goren, heard the words come out of his mouth but was shocked to hear them.
Eames looked up at him; fortunately Shelia missed her glare and grew hot on her own rage.
"That's sick!" Shelia turned to leave, "I'm going."
"No," Goren pulled her arm back. "Listen you are incriminating yourself in a murder investigation. We're giving you a chance to play nice, do you want to take it?"
Shelia thought for a moment, her face sank. "I was with my boyfriend."
Eames and Goren looked at each other.
Shelia caught the confusion. "Leonard wasn't my boyfriend. We met in a class and I thought he was pretty cool. He asked me out for dinner and it was flattering, this smart good looking guy could have had any girl on campus and he wanted me. So I slept with him. And before you ask, no it was not an easy A." She shot a dirty look at Goren who had begun to feel very guilty. "It became very clear early on what my role was in the relationship, I was the piece on the side. It was exciting for maybe a week, then it got old."
"Why didn't you break it off?" Eames asked, Goren noticed she had concern in her voice. He never heard a maternal tone in her voice before.
Shelia laughed bitterly. "Like I had a choice. Listen, I can give you my boyfriend's number. We met up at the campus bookstore and grabbed coffee at the center. We were seen by at least a dozen people, and if you don't believe me. Why don't you ask the private investigator that Mrs. Schultz hired to follow me?"
Shelia looked at Eames and Goren. She read instantly that they were stumped, and taking advantage of her window of opportunity, turned and stalked off to class.
"Well, back to the batcave?" Eames asked nudging Goren out of his thoughts.
"Yeah, can I meet you there?" He spun around, "I just wanted to check on one thing."
"What thing?" Eames asked, but Robert had already moved out of earshot. Eames grimaced and walked back to the car. Fortunately she always drove.
"Okay, tomorrow we start Shakespeare, but today I have a fun assignment!" Emily pulled a pile of handouts from her bookbag. She kept her classroom sparse. It was a series of uncomfortable cheap plastic and steel desks, bare windows with uneven shades, some torn. Her teaching stance was a lopsided half podium put on a metal operating table that had been donated by the nursing department after THEY got a budget up-grade. To add insult to injury the emblame of the college had fallen off the podium at some unknown epoch leaving behind scarred and faded wood. She abandoned the idea of teaching behind some grand podium the minute she accepted the job. Instead she walked around the classroom, because of this Robert Goren couldn't sneak in without her seeing him immediately.
"I've got a watchman's key exercise for you…" she stopped short as she heard the door click behind Goren. He stood at the front of the class looking acceptionally awkward, he waved mildly at the entire class staring at him.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" He asked softly. The class exploded into a catcall. Emily blushed deeply.
"Oh, stuff it!" She shouted to the class. "It's probably about the two dead hookers he found in my car!" Her graduate assistant finished handing out the paper work. "Go, find the library. Due Friday, no excuses." She yelled the final sentence over a chorus of whines and protestations.
Emily smiled as the last filed out of the room. Her students hated the amount of work she assigned but loved her. In return she adored them.
Robert stood shyly in front of the closed door. They were alone in the room.
"How can I help you detective?" Emily asked packing up her bag, she wouldn't raise her eyes above his shoulders.
"I just wanted to ask a few more questions about Dr. Schultz." Robert rubbed his right ear. "Did you ever hear him mention a private detective?"
Emily stopped and looked at Robert strangely. "He didn't say it to me, but the walls of the offices are thin." She laughed to herself, "this one time he had Shelia over and I could hear everything." She suddenly realized what she was saying and quieted up immediately. "I mean, I overheard him yell at his wife over the phone because of that. I thought he was paranoid. I couldn't imagine his wife caring that much to hire an investigator to follow him." She shook her head, and slung her bag over her shoulder.
She motioned to go to the door, Robert blocked her way. Emily pulled back a little startled. "Was there something else?"
Robert smiled down at her, "uhm, yes."
"So did you handle your thing?" Eames asked sharply. Goren looked at her sideways and frowned. Eames felt a little guilty. She had a happy life. She had her sister, her nephew and a good looking boyfriend. What did Bobby have in his life? A drug addict brother, dead mother, and a possible rapist death row father. His life was a Wagner opera without the singing.
"Shelia's alibi clears up." Eames started, hoping to clear the air. "I'm not having much luck finding out anything about the investigator she hired."
"The wife's not going to admit to hiring one, and if we bring it to her, she'll shut us out." He thought for a moment. "Maybe someone else in the house will talk to us?" He raised an eyebrow.
Back at the Hillings home, Detective Eames was having luck getting the grieving widow to complain about her late husband, child rearing and everything in between. Goren, feigning disinterest had created an excuse to amuse himself else where.
He walked across the hall towards the kitchen when he noticed the two girls sitting on the stairs starring at him. He walked over, they were quietly playing with dolls.
"Hi there," Goren said, approaching the smaller of the two girls. "What's her name?"
The girl only squirmed away from Goren and into the lap of her slightly older sister. The older girl looked at Goren sternly; she was very protective for a six year old.
"Her name is Alice, and mother told us we shouldn't talk to strangers."
"That's very smart of your mom, but I'm a policeman so you can talk to me." The little girl acquiesced and Goren felt confident to proceed cautiously. "Did your mom ever talk about having a man watch your dad?"
The girl shook her head. "Daddy got a spy for mommy. I heard him on the phone one day." She stroked her doll's hair gingerly. "He said that the man would catch mommy, and then daddy promised him a lot of money."
"What was the man going to catch your mom doing?" Goren leaned in and asked as softly as possible.
The little girl shrugged and showed little interest in the conversation.
"Was your mom doing something she wasn't supposed to?"
The little girl looked around to make sure there was no one ease-dropping. "Mother kissed Dennis. Daddy found out, and he was mad."
Goren nodded. Alice sighed in her sister's lap, they went upstairs. Eames came out with Mrs. Hilling's behind her.
"Why are you talking to my daughters?" Mrs. Hillings charged at Goren.
"They were telling me about their dolls. I'm sorry to upset you." Goren led Eames out of the house and back to their car.
"I'm going to assume you found something interesting?"
Goren nodded and got into the passenger seat.
"Glad you had fun, I got a half hour lecture on why your half of the species sucks." Eames slunk into the driver's seat.
The Hillings' home in New Haven, CT is a typical colonial mansion. The main building was erected in approximately 1750. It stood on ten acres of perfectly manicured land. Eames rolled up the gravel driveway smoothly and put the car into park in front of the large oak door.
"Okay, so, any plans? The parents are not going to incriminate their daughter." Eames sighed turning to Goren biting his thumb nail.
"We aren't going to talk to them."
"This is stunning." Goren pointed up to the impressionist art on the wall. Mrs. Hillings was standing by her unlit fireplace while her husband was sitting in an easy chair.
"Oh, I'm glad you like it. We of course donated the original to a museum in Massachusetts, this is a copy we had done." She crossed the parlor, walking like a screen goddess from the 1950s, all long leg and slim hips. She sallied up next to Goren and locked arms with him, escorting him to the settee. Goren shot Eames a wide-eyed smiled as a cue.
"Uhm, would you mind if I went to the kitchen?" She lifted the collar of her coat to display a stain she had cleverly made while unobserved. "My nephew must have spit up on me this morning."
"That's fine dear," Mrs. Hillings said without looking at Eames. She waved her hand as a means of directing. Goren smiled at Eames, that nephew had to be at least five by now.
Eames wandered into the kitchen, pretending to look for a towel. There were two cleaning girls standing around gossiping, they stopped as they saw Eames walk in. The one standing behind the island shot Eames a superior glance.
"Hey, do either of you have a towel? My nephew spat up on me this morning." The shorter girl handed her a roll of paper towels. "Thanks. Mrs. Hillings spotted it immediately threw her nose all out of joint."
The snotty girl behind the counter now became her ally. "She's a bitch. Everything has to be perfect."
Eames raised her eyes and hoped that the girls would go on. She was rewarded.
"She's nothing, that daughter of hers is the real bitch." The shorter girl slammed the trash door closed with her hip.
The taller woman shushed her and nodded to the living room. The younger girl rolled her eyes and stormed out back to smoke. "She's just jealous, little missus stole her boyfriend."
"Boyfriend, Mrs. Hillings has two daughters?" Eames asked, partially knowing her answer.
"No, the daughter married that boring professor of hers, but she liked to keep a little on the side, just like the mother."
"So who's the boyfriend?"
"Her driver. What, you couldn't tell?" She began wiping down the kitchen counter again.
Mrs. Hillings walked into the store and left her driver waiting outside by the slick black car he guarded. Goren and Eames snuck out of nowhere and immediately laid into his.
"So, we met your ex-girlfriend at Mrs. Hilling's parent's house, and bad news, she blew your alibi. You left the party earlier and didn't return until very late. You want to try that again?" Eames asked. Goren had pushed him against the car.
Julian, the driver, rolled his eyes. "I didn't do this, and I told her that she wouldn't get away with it. I got something to say, but only if you are gonna make it worth my time."
D.A. Carver sat in the interrogation room. To his left sat Detective Eames, whom he preferred of this team. Goren loomed in the back and for once was actually silent.
"My client is prepared to make a statement, and to testify against Mrs. Hillings-Schultz, provided he not serve any time."
"I'm prepared to offer probation, provided what he says leads to a conviction." Carver said in his usual even tone.
"Okay, she wanted to leave the party. We left about an hour after we arrived. The two little girls were keeping the mother distracted, so we took off. We got into the city by two in the afternoon and she wanted to go to the college." He paused, shuffled his hands on the desk. "At first I thought she was going to confront her husband. I offered to come with her and she was firm that I stay behind. I waited in the car for almost an hour before she came back, she's wearing his coat tied tight around her. And I remember thinking, now that's some strange revenge, she stole his coat. She told me to drive her back to her townhouse in the city. So I did." He clammed up after this.
Carver made eye contact with Julian. "I'm not satisfied if that's what you're hoping."
Julian bit his lower lip, the started again. "We got back to the townhouse and she immediately started to shower. When she got out, she called me upstairs and we…" he trailed off.
"You what exactly?" Carver insisted.
"I don't want to say with a lady in the room." Julian nodded at Eames.
Eames almost laughed, "Now you want to be a gentleman?"
"We had sex, a lot of sex. Then she had me do something for her. Her clothes that she had worn were gone, and she hands me this package, it looked like a brown paper bag wrapped in plastic, all taped up tight. She tells me that she wants me to throw this into the river, and I'm thinking 'no way.' I had to hang onto something for insurance."
Carver leaned forward, "where is this package now?"
"Same place it's always been, the trunk of my car."
Mrs. Hillings sat coolly in the interrogation room. "This is truly ridiculous, you're going to take the word of that pothead?" She looked more annoyed than anything else.
"My client has nothing to say." The lawyer advised Carver.
"That's fine, we're going to do all the talking. Detective Eames, would you like to show Mrs. Hillings-Schultz her clothes?"
Eames stood up, and pulled the plastic bag up, placing it on the table. From it she withdrew a green collared shirt, khaki trousers and a white sweater, all caked in blood. The wife didn't blink an eye.
"Just how to you expect to prove those are mine?" She asked, more interested in the scientific process than in the outcome.
"We already did, DNA from the shirt proves that you were wearing it, and the blood is your husband's." Eames informed her calmly.
"Mrs. Hillings-Schultz, did you murder your husband?" Goren asked from behind her.
"It's just Hillings, and yes I did."
Robert Goren sat alone at a table in his favorite restaurant, he was drumming his fingers in frustration over the tablecloth. The restaurant was crowded and noisey, filled with couples. He had never felt embarrassed about eating alone, but when the waiter who had seated him looked suspiciously at the second setting he felt his neck grow red.
Robert sighed and began to get up, when Emily walked up to the table.
"Hello Bobby." Emily said smiling across the table.
He felt a sudden pang in his heart. Robert smothered the grimace, but the memory of meeting another woman at this very spot was still in his mind. "Actually, it's Robert."