HMO-12

Donely Penthouse

In the kitchen, Tiffany sipped coffee while Sean tucked into breakfast.

"You thinking Alicia was set up to be murdered is pretty far out there, Sean," said Tiffany. "As far as proving it, well, do you have anything concrete? Clues? Your gut instincts won't count with the Board of Directors."

"I know that, sweetheart. If it wasn't for Daria Merritt the idea probably wouldn't have entered my mind. At least not so soon," said Sean.

Daria Merritt aka Jane Doe 1? Is this off the record?" asked Tiffany.

"Take it as from sources inside the PCPD," said Sean. "Robert won't be able to keep a lid on it for very long. They're going to be beating the bushes on the docks looking for Jane Doe 2. It's all going to come out anyway."

Tiffany shivered. "A bug spread by touch. Eww! Gives me the creeps the way you describe the scaly skin and all."

"I'm more worried about the speed of infection. We have a woman here who sounded fine on the phone on Thursday saying she had the flu to someone who was out of her head loony a few days later based on how Sadie described her."

"What about Daria made you think Alicia was set up?"

"It's not one specific thing. It's a bunch of coincidences." Sean took a sip of coffee then began to explain. "She had no medical history of cardiac issues. She was on no heart-related medications either. The red flags went up when I saw Alicia's room at Repose Hill. WIth the security camera coverage, anyone entering her room would have been caught on tape. Alicia's activities during the day and night are monitored on a regular basis. Any deviations or alterations become obvious."

"So what was obvious to you?"

"Nothing. Nothing about Alicia herself seemed out of the ordinary. The explanation of a heart attack would have been acceptable."

"Enter Daria," said Tiffany pouring herself a second cup of coffee.

Sean nodded. "The second I saw her missing person sketch I knew I had a lead. I talked to her supervisor. On the second day of Alicia's stay Daria was permanently assigned to Alicia at Alicia's direct request. They got along. In fact, the supervisor said that she often heard them laughing."

"They were close then," concluded Tiffany. "And she might have known more about Alicia's condition than anyone else."

"Right. After her patient dies, this same person calls in sick and dies a few days later under very suspicious circumstances. This was the one time she called in sick, too."

"But I still don't understand what made you all twitchy."

"Sometimes it's the little things that can add up to something unexpected. The first flag was what I said before that things were too neat. On the surface, Repose Hill would be ruled out as having been at fault through negligence or incompetence because of its security arrangements, staffing and care routine. Without any signs of foul play, it would be inconceivable that a criminal act occurred at the facility," said Sean. "How do you carry out a perfect crime? Do it in the one place that it couldn't happen."

"Daria killed Alicia?"

"All I know for certain is that it was an inside job," said Sean.

"By whom?" Tiffany rolled her eyes. "You don't think Christopher had anything to do with this? Is this why you're after him like a doberman on a bone?"

"It could have been anyone at Repose Hill. I think Daria could have found out something or ... or ... I don't know what exactly but ... something's just bugging me about all of this."

"She could have been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or she could have been an accomplice," said Tiffany. "It kind of makes sense but how are you going to prove it?"

Sean ran a hand through his hair. "That's the problem of the day."

"I meant how are you going to prove it wasn't a heart attack? You don't have a case without proving that first."

"I'm hoping an independent study of Alicia's records and the autopsy results will get me something solid." Sean looked at his watch. Sean pushed his chair aside. "I have to tackle this from another angle. I've got to tag along on the PCPD visit to Daria's apartment. Gotta go!"

"Whoa, cowboy! We have something else to settle," said Tiffany getting to her feet.

A series of images from his late night went through Sean's mind. "Honey, about last night. It's all Robert's fault. He overreacted about Anna and-"

"I don't care if you and Robert hit a strip club. I know nothing would have happened." Tiffany crossed her arms.

"Of course nothing happened. It was Robert's idea anyway. Worse night of my life!" Sean cleared his throat and said in a more conciliatory tone, "Tell me what I did wrong? You're upset about something."

Tiffany crossed her arms. "You're like a horse with a burr under the saddle kickin' and buckin' in all directions. I've had it being a target."

"Target?" asked Sean mystified.

"This case. The Montforts. My work. Your work. I'm caught in the middle and I don't like it," said Tiffany.

"I'm really sorry if-"

"I need to get myself out of the middle and there's only one way I know how."

Sean's eyes narrowed. "Which way is that?"

"Until Alicia's case is finished, we shouldn't bring our work home. We won't talk about it."

"I totally agree."

Tiffany looked her husband in the eye. "With the possible epidemic, I'm going to be keeping some crazy hours and I think so will you."

Sean grinned. "Ah, yeah, probably. Sorry in advance."

"We're both dedicated professionals. The job has to come first sometimes," said Tiffany. "Compromises have to be made."

"Thanks for understanding, honey. I don't want to go after the Montforts but I may have to," said Sean. "You know dig into all the possible angles and they've got the best motive - a fortune at stake."

"I know that you'll do what you need to and so will I. To keep us from arguing any more about it, you'll be sleeping in the guest room until the case is done." With that, Tiffany gave Sean a quick peck on the cheek and left the kitchen.

It took a few seconds for Sean's tired brain to process this sudden change in marital harmony. He darted out of the room calling out, "Um, honey, we need to talk about this first and-"

Tiffany paused at the front door buttoning up her coat. "Decision is made, darlin'. It's only for a few days." She opened the door and stepped out. "I got news to make! Adios!"


Scorpio Residence

In black slacks and a white blouse, Anna slipped her shoulder holster over her head and secured it under her arm. She drew out her revolver from a locked case inside a drawer of the bedside cabinet. She stifled a yawn and forced her eyelids to stay open. Absently, she took out Robert's holster and put it on the bed.

"Robert, I've put yours on the bed!" called out Anna.

Robert stepped out of the bathroom dressed for the day. Like Anna, he slipped the holster on with the ease of long habit. "Joining in on the search this morning?"

"Yeah. A part of me doesn't want Jane Doe 2 to be Nicole but ..." began Anna.

"Part of the job, luv," replied Robert. "Think of it this way. The sooner we find her, the sooner we can help her." He placed a hand on Anna's hip. "You be careful out there. I have every intention of cashing in on the IOU from last night."

Anna chuckled. "I'll make good on it."

Robert lowered his voice. "You still have it?"

Anna whispered back enunciating every word, "I had to peel it off all by my lonesome."

"I swear I'm going to put a stop to your solo acts," said Robert.

Anna straightened his tie. "We were both exhausted. I can barely keep my eyes open now. I need coffee so bad."

"I was kinda looking forward to it."

"I could tell."

"When?"

"I'll let you know."

"Is Robin sleeping over at Jody's this weekend?" asked Robert putting on his windbreaker.

"No idea." Anna put her leather jacket. on.

"Maybe I shall put the idea into our child's head over breakfast."

"Manipulating children now?" teased Anna.

"All's fair in love and war especially during Project Wee One," said Robert.

Anna burst out laughing.

"Tis my responsibility to ensure that the mother-to-be is motivated. Motivation is key because it could take a lot of time and effort to get the desired result. Can't have you losing interest can I?" asked Robert.

"Do you have any specific responsibilities in mind for me as part of this oh so worthy project?" asked Anna.

Robert's expression turned serious. "Don't take any unnecessary risks. That's numero uno."

"That goes for you, too."

"Well, I'm surrounded by cops all day. You're not," countered Robert.

"I'll be careful. I promise. Besides, we're not going after someone with a gun this time are we?" asked Anna.

"No but one touch is all it takes. That's just as bad in my book." Robert led Anna downstairs for a quick breakfast before they headed for the docks to join in the search for Jane Doe 2.


Daria Merritt's Apartment

Sean trailed after Detectives Flores and the lone uniformed officer spared from the dockside search. After realizing what the police needed, the landlord let them into Daria's apartment. The one bedroom apartment was neat as a pin but there were splashes of color mostly reds and gold in unexpected places. There were few pictures of a personal nature though - a portrait of Daria in a National Guard uniform, a candid shot of a laughing Daria with some friends and another portrait of Daria and an older woman.

Big pillows with funny slogans lay on a futon which served as the living room sofa. Two blue rolled up sleeping bags lay next to the futon. A television was set on a low rolling cart. A short pile of DVDs lay on top of the TV. A floral arrangement with flowers still clinging to life anchored the middle of the dining room table. Books and piles of notes were stacked around the flowers. The kitchen sink was empty. The kitchen counters were crumb-free. Fresh fruit and vegetables dominated the refrigerator. It was cozy. It was a home.

"Why would she leave here to sleep in the catacombs?" asked Flores out loud. "Doesn't make sense."

Sean studied the pictures on the shelves. "She served. Built a life for herself. Not someone with nothing to live for. Not someone who's a simple follower either."

Flores looked over the items lying atop the dining table. "What was she studying? Nursing? Business?"

"Probably nursing," said Sean ambling over towards the table.

"How many copies of one book does she need then? There's two or three copies of everything here," said Flores. He raised a thick textbook and turned it this way and that. Letters were hand written in thick marker across the pages. "M. Corden. Another student I guess." He picked up a third book. "Rohmer."

"Let me see that!" Sean took the second book from Flores. "Nicole Rohmer could be our Jane Doe 2."

Flores began to sort the books into piles according to the names on the books. "Four different names here. Had to have been a study group. PCU is what fifteen minutes away from here. Why carry all of this if you don't have to?"

"A study group or maybe Nicole stayed here for a little while." Sean could see that there was nearly a full set of Nicole's books on the table. One file folder had Nicole's full name on it. Papers inside were hers. "She was here for sure."

Sean entered the bedroom. Unlike the living areas this room showed signs of a hasty departure. The double bed was unmade. The light inside the closet burned bright. The closet was organized but there were telltale gaps in the hanged apparel as if someone had grabbed things at random. A hard-sided suitcase lay open on the bed only half-filled with clothes. A nearly empty bottle of cold and flu medication lay atop the bedside cabinet beside an unopened box of tissues.

He opened a drawer of the cabinet. Inside was a dog-eared Bible and a thick, hard-backed journal. He took both books out and began to sift through them. The front page of the Bible had a written inscription that said: "To my lovely Daria on her twelfth birthday. Love and blessing, Gran." Passages had been highlighted in yellow. A bookmark for a respected church was tucked into a page. He flipped through the journal next. After only a few pages, he said under his breath, "Jackpot."

Flores called out from the bathroom. "I'm calling this an official crime scene! I want forensics in here ASAP!" He burst out of the bathroom headed for the phone in the kitchen.

"Flores, the bedroom, too!" Sean dipped his head into the bathroom. "What happened here?"

Dark red splotches dotted the shower wall while a thin dark streak half the length of the tub. Bloody fingerprints were visible on the toilet lid and handle. The counter was littered with ripped open first aid supplies - cotton balls, gauze and compression bandages. Big and small towels some streaked with blood lay on the floor.

On the mirror scrawled in dried blood was one word: UNCLEAN.

From the kitchen, the first year cop voiced a concern. "Detective, we touched stuff in here. Does this mean we're infected? Maybe we should have used gloves."

Jolted, Sean retreated to the living room. He, Flores and the cop could only look at each other. "The ... the symptoms appear pretty fast. We should be okay but to be safe-"

"We get the hell out of here!" Flores led the way out. With exaggerated care, he affixed yellow police tape across the apartment door.