DISCLAIMER: "Diagnosis Murder" and the characters in it are owned by CBS and Viacom and are merely being borrowed here for recreational, non-profit purposes.
RATING: G
SUMMARY: When a waiter at BBQ Bob's is murdered, can Steve and the gang find the murderer before someone else is killed?
Note: I don't usually post in segments, so please bear with me as I experiment with this!
A DEADLY SPLIT
Chapter 1Dr. Mark Sloan was reviewing patient charts at a nurse's station in the ER at Community General Hospital, when he heard himself hailed. Turning, he saw his son, Det. Lt. Steve Sloan approaching.
"Hi, Steve! What brings you around so early this morning?"
"I need to see Jesse," Steve responded. "Is he around?"
"He's in with a patient at the moment," Mark replied. He noticed that his son's expression was unusually serious, and asked, "Is something wrong?" Steve nodded.
"I'm afraid so. Pete Pierello was murdered last night."
"Pete? The new waiter at BBQ Bobs?" Mark asked in dismay. Steve nodded again, and Mark looked over to one of the nurses at the station. "Lisa, will you have Dr. Travis meet us in the doctor's lounge as soon as he gets done with his patient?" Receiving an affirmative response, Mark put a hand on his son's arm and steered him to the lounge.
"So what happened?" Mark asked as they entered the lounge. He went over to pour them both some coffee.
"He was attacked in the parking lot of his apartment complex and stabbed."
"A mugging?" Mark handed his son a cup of coffee and seated himself at the small table in the center of the room.
"It doesn't look like it. He still had his wallet with about $30 in it, and his watch wasn't taken." Steve sipped his coffee as his father digested that fact. He was about to continue the story, when Jesse entered the lounge.
"Hey, Steve," the doctor greeted his friend. "What's up?"
Steve looked over at Jesse somberly. He knew that Jesse had become friendly with the young waiter who had recently come to work at the restaurant they jointly owned.
"I'm afraid I've got bad news, Jess," he said. "Pete Pierello was killed last night."
Jesse stared at him in shock for a moment, and then sank slowly into a chair.
"What happened?" he asked.
"He was stabbed in the parking lot of his apartment complex," Steve replied, "apparently around 1:00 this morning."
"How did you fix the time so closely?" asked Mark curiously, knowing that the medical examiners usually give a range of times.
"There was a witness – a college kid coming back late from a study session – who saw a man running away from the lot at that time. He went over to see what the guy was running from and found Pete."
"I just can't believe it," Jesse muttered. "He was so happy last night…"
Steve looked at him sympathetically. "Actually, Jess, I was kind of hoping he might have said something to you that might give us an idea of where to start. Did he say anything in particular about where he was going or who he was seeing?"
"He said he had a big date," Jesse replied. "He's been seeing this girl he met at a dance club, and he was all excited about getting together with her last night." He paused unhappily. "In fact, I was teasing him about being so excited that he kept dropping things. We were getting pretty slow anyway, so I sent him off early."
"That's probably where he was coming back from at that hour," mused Steve. "Did he tell you the girl's name or where she lives?" Jesse shook his head slowly, considering it.
"No… he never actually mentioned her name," he replied. "But I'm pretty sure he said she worked at the Tulip Club."
"Okay, thanks, Jess; I'll check out the club and see if I can find out who the girl is." Steve drained his coffee cup and got up to leave. "I'll see you guys later," he said, giving his friend a sympathetic pat on the arm as he went out.
Chapter 2
Late that afternoon, having shown Pete's picture around the Tulip Club when it opened, Steve had obtained a name and address for Pete's girlfriend. Her name was apparently Terri Hopper, and she was a dancer at the club. He went out to the address he had been given and found a small house in a nearby suburb.
"Yes?" A nicely curved, attractive young woman in her early twenties, with shoulder-length, wavy blond hair answered the door.
"Terri Hopper?" asked Steve.
"Yes?" she asked again.
"I'm Lt. Steve Sloan," Steve said, holding up his police id for her to see. "May I come in and talk to you for a few minutes?" He saw her hesitate, and added, "It's about Peter Pierello."
"Pete?" Terri opened the door, letting Steve in. "What about him? Is he okay?" she asked with quick concern.
"I'm afraid Pete was killed early this morning," Steve said gently. He watched Terri's eyes widen and her hand go to her mouth.
"Oh no!" she exclaimed, looking shocked. "What happened?" She led Steve into the small living room, and sank onto the couch.
"He was attacked in the parking lot of his apartment complex," Steve replied, taking a seat in a chair across from her. "I understand he was with you last night?"
"That's right," Terri confirmed. "He met me when I got off work, and we came back here." She looked at Steve in distress. "I can't believe it," she said. "We had such a nice evening…"
"Can you tell me what time he left here?"
"It must have been around 12:30 or a bit before," Terri replied, thinking about it. "He said he had to be up early for work this morning. He works – " she caught herself, wincing, and changed tense – "worked at a restaurant in downtown LA, and he said he was doing the breakfast shift today."
Steve nodded at this reference to Pete's employment at BBQ Bob's, and noted that, given the distance from here to Pete's apartment, that fit in with the probable time of the attack.
"What exactly happened? Was he mugged?" Terri asked, tentatively.
"We're still looking into the possibilities," Steve replied vaguely. "But nothing seems to have been taken." He noticed that Terri was now looking distinctly uneasy, and his interest quickened. "He was stabbed – apparently as he was going from his car to his apartment," he added, watching her closely.
"Oh my God," Terri breathed in horror. "Maybe it was him!"
"'Him'?" Steve asked sharply. "Who?" Terri looked at him with wide, scared eyes.
"The guy who's been sending me the letters," she said in a shaken voice.
"What letters?"
Terri drew a deep breath. "I've been getting these letters," she explained, "from some crazy guy, telling me stuff like I belong to him and I wasn't to date other men."
"Did you report this to the police?" Steve asked. Terri shook her head.
"I just thought it was some crank. The dancers do get crank letters sometimes from kooks. I've only gotten a few – I guess I didn't take it seriously."
"But you do now," Steve observed. Terri looked back at him uncertainly.
"Well, it's just… the last letter I got mentioned that if I ever got involved with someone else, something terrible would happen."
"And you didn't think that was worth reporting to the police?"
"I told you – I just thought it was a crank. I felt stupid taking it to the police." Terri was getting upset, tears forming in her eyes. "I never thought he'd actually do anything. I certainly never thought Pete would be in danger! Oh, this is all my fault," she sobbed.
Steve looked her over, trying to determine if her reaction was genuine. It certainly appeared to be; there was a ring of sincerity in her responses that made him feel sorry for her. He sighed mentally. People were often reluctant to go to the police with anything that wasn't concrete or that could be embarrassing. If she was on the up-and-up, he certainly didn't want to make her feel guilty.
"Look, often these letters don't mean anything," he said consolingly. "It's always hard to know how seriously to take them." He saw her look up gratefully. "Do you still have the letters?" he asked. She shook her head.
"No," she said miserably. "I just tore them up and threw them away. I'm sorry."
"Do you have any idea who could have been sending them?" Steve asked. "Any ex-boyfriends, guys who came on to you at the club, anything like that?"
Terri considered the question, shrugging slightly.
"No ex-boyfriend," she replied. "As for guys at the club – well, there are always guys who come on to the dancers."
"Anyone who was particularly persistent or seemed unusually upset by rejection?"
Terri started to shake her head; then paused, considering.
"Well… there was this one guy," she said slowly.
"Yes?" Steve prompted.
"There's not really much I can put my finger on," Terri said. "He just seemed kind of creepy. He would come and watch the shows and stare at me, but he never talked much to anybody, and never really approached me. A couple of the waitresses noticed him because he would usually just order one drink and sit and nurse it until the last show was over, and then he'd leave. We all thought he was kind of weird, but he never caused a problem, so we just pretty much ignored him."
"Do you know his name?"
Again Terri shook her head. "One of the waitresses might," she suggested. She looked at Steve sadly. "I really wish I could tell you more," she said.
"Maybe you still can," Steve replied. "Would you mind coming down to the police station with me now? We have a witness who got a glimpse of a man leaving the scene at about the time of the attack. The sketch artist should have completed a sketch by now; maybe you could take a look at it and see if it looks familiar. And you could give us any details you can remember about the letters you got – what they looked like, how they arrived, postmarks, wording, things like that." Terri hesitated a moment, then nodded.
"Okay," she agreed determinedly. "If you think it might help catch whoever killed Pete, I'll do it." As she went to get up, she let out a small exclamation of pain and looked down at her arm which she had been absentmindedly scratching. "This stupid rash!" she complained, blotting at the small spot of blood she had drawn.
"That looks like a pretty nasty rash," Steve observed. "Have you seen a doctor about it?"
"I've only had it since this morning," Terri answered. "And I hate doctors. I'm sure it'll just go away by itself."
Steve looked again at the rash which was red and angry looking, dotted with blood here and there where Terri had scratched.
"You really should have that seen to," he suggested. "What's so bad about doctors, anyway?"
"They're so pompous and stodgy and always asking dumb questions and being judgmental," Terri complained sourly. Steve raised his eyebrows.
"How many doctors have you actually known?" he asked.
"Too many," was the reply. Seeing Steve look questioningly at her, Terri elaborated. "I was in the hospital for a while a few years back. And my father was a doctor."
"And was your father 'pompous and stodgy and judgmental'?" Steve asked with a smile.
"He was the worst," Terri responded, her tone bitter. "Always so worried about dignity and propriety. Almost everybody called him 'Doctor'; even the staff he worked with for over 30 years. Even his friends called him 'Daniel', never 'Dan'; and nobody would ever even dream of calling him 'Danny'!"
"Well, I know a doctor who's not in the least like that," said Steve with a gleam of laughter in his eye. "We can stop by and see him on the way to the police station. And we don't even have to go to a hospital or doctor's office to do it!" Over Terri's attempt to protest, he steered her out the front door and over to his car.
Chapter 3
During the drive, Terri continued to protest against Steve's determination to have her see a doctor.
"So who is this doctor you're so sure is different, and where are we going to see him if not in an office?" she asked.
"It just so happens," Steve replied, "that my father is a doctor too. And we're going to stop by the house and see him on our way to the station."
"Oh, your father's going to love that," said Terri sarcastically. "Just drop by with a patient when he's off duty. It's not the way things are done." She saw Steve cast a quick glance at her, a wicked gleam in his blue eyes.
"Trust me," he said dryly. "My father's very flexible about these things." He saw that Terri was looking very skeptical, and grinned to himself. He probably shouldn't be teasing her like this, he thought, but he couldn't resist.
"What kind of doctor is he?" Terri asked, hoping that at least he wouldn't be some kind of hotshot specialist.
"He's head of internal medicine at Community General Hospital," Steve replied blandly. His mental grin broadened as Terri looked like her worst fears were being confirmed. "But nobody's ever called him 'stodgy'," he added, unable to keep the twinkle from showing in his eyes.
The rest of the ride passed in relative silence, Terri obviously feeling uncomfortable with the prospect of bearding the medical dragon in his lair, despite Steve's assurances that he was very different from the way she had described her own father.
They arrived at the beach house and entered to hear what sounded like a tap dancing session going on in the study. As they walked into the study, they stopped at the doorway, and Terri stood staring in astonishment at the sight of a white-haired, distinguished-looking elderly gentleman apparently giving tap dancing lessons to two young African-American boys. The man was clearly enjoying himself, hamming up the routine, to the delight of the boys. Terri cast a quick glance at Steve to see that he was watching with amused affection.
"Okay, here comes the finale," she heard the older man say.
"I can do it, Uncle Mark – watch!" called the younger of the two boys.
Under the astonished gaze of Terri, and the amused gaze of Steve, the man and the older of the two boys executed a neat series of rapid steps, but at the last moment, the younger boy slipped and fell sideways behind the older man, tripping him up so that the two of them landed in a heap on the floor. Terri watched in horror, expecting to see the boys get excoriated for carelessness, only to realize that all three dancers were laughing, as was Steve, who was moving quickly, but without alarm, to help his father rise.
"Well, that was quite a finish," Steve declared as he reached an arm down to haul his father up. "You okay, Dad?" Mark looked up at him with pleased surprise.
"Hi, Steve! I'm fine. Aren't they doing great?" he said, casting proud glances at the two boys.
"Hi, Uncle Steve!" cried the younger boy, running to give him a hug. "Did you see me? I almost did it that time!"
"Yeah, you almost took out Uncle Mark!" ribbed the older boy with tolerant humor. "Hi, Uncle Steve."
"Hi CJ, Dion," replied Steve, hugging the younger boy back and reaching over to ruffle the older one's hair.
"I'm sorry about that, Uncle Mark," said CJ at the same time. "But I really do almost have it!"
"You certainly do, CJ," agreed Mark encouragingly.
"Where's Amanda?" Steve asked, looking around for her.
"She had a quick errand to run," Mark explained, brushing himself off, "so the boys and I decided to have a little visit of our own. She should be back shortly." By this time, he had noticed Terri standing in the doorway, and cast a quick, inquiring look at his son, as he turned off the music to which he and the boys had been dancing.
Steve looked over at Terri, blue eyes alight with laughter at the slightly stunned and bewildered expression on her face.
"Dad, this is Terri Hopper, Pete's girlfriend," he said. "Terri, this is my father, Dr. Mark Sloan."
"Hello, Terri," Mark greeted her with a smile. "Nice to meet you." The smile dimmed as he added, "I'm really sorry about Pete. He seemed like such a nice young man."
Terri, who was struggling to readjust her preconceived notions of what this visit would be like, took a moment to process the implications of that statement.
"You knew Pete?" she asked.
"Not well," Mark replied, "but I met him a few times at BBQ Bob's, of course." He threw a questioning look at Steve.
"I don't think I mentioned that fact that my father, a good friend of ours, and I own Bob's," Steve explained to Terri.
"Oh," said Terri, somewhat at a loss for words. She reflected that this visit was turning out to be full of surprises. A doctor who tap danced and played with kids he appeared to be babysitting, a cop who owned a BBQ restaurant … what other oddities were waiting to pop up?
"And this is CJ and Dion," Mark said, turning back to the boys who were obviously checking out this new person Steve had brought in. They greeted Terri politely. "Why don't you guys go out and play on the beach for a while," Mark suggested. "Just stay inside the fence."
As the boys went out to play, Mark invited Terri to come out on the deck and sit down.
"Can I get you some lemonade or coffee?" he offered. Still looking rather tentative about the whole thing, Terri opted for lemonade.
"Actually, Dad, why don't I get it," suggested Steve. "We stopped here on our way to the police station to ask you to take a look at Terri's arm. She's got a really nasty looking rash on it, and she seems to have an aversion to doctors and hospitals," he explained with a twinkle in his eye. "So I convinced her that this would be a very informal checkup." He saw Terri blush slightly and met his father's glance of amused comprehension. "It's okay, Terri, he doesn't bite," he teased as he left to get the lemonade.
When he returned from the kitchen bearing a tray with a pitcher full of lemonade and several glasses, his father was finishing his exam of Terri's arm.
"It looks like an allergic reaction to something that scratched you," Mark was saying.
"It must have been my neighbor's cat," Terri said. "She's always getting into woods and stuff – she probably had something on her claws when she scratched me."
"Well, I can give you a prescription for a steroid cream that should help," Mark said. "If it doesn't improve in a day or two, you'd better have it looked at again." He looked up at her with a twinkle. "I can always make a house call if you'll feel more comfortable!"
Terri blushed again, glaring at Steve as he set the tray down on the table.
"I'm sorry about that, Dr. Sloan," she said deprecatingly. "It's just that, well, most of the doctors I've known have been, well…"
"'Stodgy'," supplied Steve with a grin. He exchanged a laughing look with his father.
"Well, I try to avoid being 'stodgy' if I can!" laughed Mark.
"Or 'pompous'," added Steve.
"Who's pompous?" asked a new voice from the doorway.
"Hi, Amanda," called Steve, leaning over to pull out the other chair for her to sit on. As she sat down and took the glass of lemonade Mark poured for her, he added, "I was just explaining to Terri here that Dad generally isn't considered to be either 'stodgy' or 'pompous'."
Amanda choked slightly on her drink. "No, I don't think anybody's ever accused Mark of being either of those things!" she agreed, laughing over at Mark.
Mark assumed an expression of wounded dignity.
"I'll have you know I can be perfectly dignified and solemn when I wish to be," he declared.
"The key phrase being 'when you wish to be'," agreed Steve, grinning.
"Which you usually don't," added Amanda, smiling affectionately at him.
Mark let his own grin reappear, but chose to ignore these comments, merely saying to Terri, "You'll have to excuse these two, Terri. They forget their manners when they start picking on me. This is Dr. Amanda Bentley – who's not exactly stodgy herself! Amanda, this is Terri Hopper."
As the two women exchanged greetings, he added, "Terri was Pete Pierello's girlfriend." That brought the conversation around to the murder, and Steve brought Mark and Amanda up to date on what he had found out so far, and explained that he and Terri were on their way to the station to see if she could give them some assistance in identifying the killer and/or the letter writer. After some discussion, he and Terri left.
Back in the car, Steve grinned at Terri.
"So, are you convinced that all doctors aren't as bad as you thought?" he teased.
"Actually, nothing about that visit was anything like the way I would have thought!" replied Terri. "Do you always discuss your cases with your father and friends?"
Steve looked at her in surprise.
"Well, actually, my dad works as a consultant for the police department," he explained. "He helps out on a lot of cases. And Amanda's the assistant medical examiner, so she's frequently involved in cases. And since they both knew and liked Pete, they're undoubtedly going to be trying to help with this one." He grinned suddenly. "And when Dad decides he's going to help with a case, there's no point in trying to keep him out of it!"
Terri was silent for a moment, processing that information. None of these people, including Steve, fit any of the molds she was used to. Their warmth, easy friendliness, and affectionate camaraderie were all new to her. None of their behavior fit her expected pattern for professional people of their level in their fields. Despite her usual wariness around such people, she had found herself starting to feel very comfortable with them. She wondered if that was going to make things easier or harder for her during this investigation.