Hi evr'body!
Still reading my story? Good. This'll gonna be a long chapter, so I keep my intro short.
Just one appetizer: You'll finally get to know why Emily hates Jesse!
Enjoy!
All disclaimers apply. The Murrows, Mister Tribbles, Miss deWinter, the Zealous and the Callums are mine.
Chapter 4: Shit happens
The weather had gone better in the last hours, it wasn't raining any longer, even the sun shone. Yet it was cool, when Mark and Steve went upstairs to the third floor where the couple had been shot down. The house had more of a low budget one than Mark had thought. Dust lay in thick heaps on the stairs, here and there surrounding a hole. The walls were painted with different graffiti, prettified with bullet holes. A smell of alcohol and butane acid was spread all over the whole building. A baby was crying in one of the rooms. Was it really a baby? Perhaps he should tell Steve to have a look, just to be sure. They had by now arrived in front of the Barnabas' room which was blocked by a yellow tape and under which father and son crawled through into what could hardly be called an apartment. The flat was as scanty and meagre as the staircase was not. Too meagre, as Mark noticed now. Not only there was no hint of the killer but neither that two people had lived here. There stood only a bed and an empty cupboard.
"The police have combed this room twice and more, but it's nearly as clean as a hospital room."
Mark looked at his son in astonishment. "So what have they been doing here? Hiding?" He walked to the dirty window next to the bed and looked onto the street. "By the way, who paid the rent if not them?" He turned to Steve. "And if they didn't want to be found, then they had to do it under another name. Someone found out…"
Steve watched his father frowning. "Dad?"
"Just a thought, Steve. Just an impossible thought." He walked over to his son. "Let's go. Oh and could we have a look at an apartment on one of the lower floors?"
"Well, will you tell me why and which one exactly?" Steve followed his dad out of the room.
"I heard… Someone screamed, and I was wondering whether it really was a baby. Though by the volume…"
"And the apartment is?"
"I don't know."
Steve grimaced. "So what do you want me to do? Knock on each door and ask 'Excuse me, Sir, my Dad was just curious if you hit your wife. May we talk to her and examine her?' ?"
"C'mon, Steve. I've become a doctor so that I can help people."
"And you can play detective whenever you want."
Mark giggled but got serious immediately afterwards. "Step aside and let me…"
He was interrupted by a cracking sound in one of the rooms on the first floor, where they had by now arrived, and then a man ran past them, leaving an open door and a crying person behind him. Steve was about to run after him, but Mark held him back shaking his head and forming a toneless "no" with his mouth, gesturing him to come to the door. A small piece of creased paper told him that here were the Murrows living.
Inside lay the remainings of a cupboard that looked identical to the one they had found in Magda's and Ernest's room. And somewhere in a corner of the room sat a crouched woman whimpering. Cautiously in order not to destroy the splintered cupboard they climbed over it, giving no thought to knock on the door. The sudden shatter of wood as Steve got stuck and tore his leg off a nailed board made the woman crouch even more and put her arms over her head, not daring to look up.
"No. No! Go. Away." she murmured between sobs. Mark cleared his throat. She moved her head slowly, still her arms around her head, still sobbing terrified. Having recognized that there was no danger awaiting her, she dried her eyes with the sleeves of her grey pullover and said, "Sorry, Misters… just missed my husband. Dunno where he's right now. You wait here or… or come back tomorrow. Won't be late. I…"
"Misses Murrow, we don't want to talk to your husband, we'd like to talk to you." Mark said in his I'm-a-doctor-so-don't-be-afraid-tone. She had put on again her angstful expression nevertheless. "I'm Doctor Mark Sloan and this is my son Steve Sloan. Actually, we're… investigating the murder of a couple who lives two floors above yours."
Relieved that she was no longer the centre of their concern, she spoke, "The murder of Magda and Ernest, hm? I've heard. Bad thing." She got up and went to the other side of the room where stood a box with bottles of water. She took one and continued talking. "Stolen you some medicine?" And on Mark's puzzled look, "everybody knew what they did."
"According to their room it didn't seem they'd been living there for long."
"You don't know who else is living here. If I told the police that Mister Tribbles next door has some interesting plants growing in his rooms, or that Miss deWinter often goes shopping at night, filling her bags with TVs and radios and that kinda stuff, this house would sooner or later be completely deserted. Though there has been some kinda come and go in the last weeks." Mark glimpsed Steve whose face had turned to embarrassment, him being detective but not able to arrest anyone. Not now. Until they left… "Not that I have anything to do with them. We say Hello in the staircase, and that's that. Will you excuse me? My husband will be back soon, and if I haven't tidied up till then, all hell will be broken loose."
"You should check the bruises on your face, maybe something is broken."
"Doctor…"
"Sloan."
"Doctor Sloan, I'm okay. Really."
"Well, okay. But in case you decide to go to a hospital, here's my card. I work in Community General." He gave her a small piece of paper which she hid in her trousers. Just at that moment Mark's beeper went off. "Sorry to have disturbed you."
"Doesn't matter, Doctor Sloan!"
Mark and Steve said Goodbye and headed outside to Steve's car in front of the house.
"Why didn't you tell her that I'm from the police?" Steve asked as they were sitting in the car and driving towards CG.
"She'd never have told us about the inhabitants. Neither would she do in hospital. Believe me, doctors are more trustworthy than policemen."
"I'm no policeman, I'm a detective."
"You arrest people, that's enough."
"May I at least check the other inhabitants, Dad?" he asked like a nine-year-old would ask who'd like to play with a toy gun.
"Yes, you may. But be careful. If you don't mind, wait a week or so."
Steve drove into the parking lot of CGH. "You're pretty sure she'll turn up in hospital."
"I'm afraid yes. I hope at least she comes walking, not wheeled in on a gurney. Could you…"
"Check her husband's background?"
Mark nodded. "Yes. Thanks, Steve." He sighed. "Well, now I see why Emily was complaining about rents and rooms in LA yesterday. Especially this one didn't suit her…" Getting out of the car he added, "You're at home this evening?"
"Is it my turn to cook?"
"Fortunately not."
The glance that Steve threw at his father spoke volumes. Mark smiled innocently and turned around to where he worked.
"No, Amanda!"
"Please!!!"
"No. I. Won't. Do. That. Basta!"
"CJ and Dion will love you for this!"
"CJ and Dion are old enough not to believe in Santa Clause."
"They don't dare think of a non-existent Santa Clause."
"Why can't he come through the roof like into every other house?"
"Aww, come on, Jesse, one last time."
"Last year CJ nearly exposed me when he tugged at my coat and I almost lost balance."
"But you didn't."
"No, 'cause your Christmas tree was in my way." Jesse grimaced at the thought of itching and scratching needles.
"I'll buy you some broader stilts."
"That's humiliating."
"That's long stuff for short stuff. And I'm gonna add a thick cushion."
"Oh no, Amanda."
"Well, that's how a Santa Clause has to look like. And as you eat but don't put on weight, that's the only way to prepare you."
"Why me? Steve's taller, he'd only need a cushion."
"He hasn't got as much patience as you have. And I'm gonna treat Santa Clause to a dinner."
That convinced Jesse. "How do women always succeed? Have to ask Steve the next time I see him."
"CJ and Dion are already looking forward to Christmas though it's still five weeks to go."
Jesse smiled. "Well, now that you've spoiled my lunch break, I've gotta go back to work. See ya."
"Bye." Amanda answered in a singing way.
Five days later, Emily had still some days to get used to her new home, work should start on the first of December. While buying wallpapers and carpets, and furnishing her apartment with the help of a skilled workman, she hadn't had the time to roam LA. Thus, she was rather happy, that one evening, it was Sunday, she sat on her new couch, a glass of coke in her hand, zapping through the channels of her new TV. One program caught her eye. A reporter was standing next to a burning house. Firemen and policemen were busy in getting the whole scene under control.
"…poisoned the neighbours' dog. As if this wouldn't have been enough, Mister Callum painted Mister Zealous' car, so when Mister Zealous saw this, he countered with a truck full of chrysanthemums, for he knew that Misses Callum was allergic against these flowers. What followed was a fireworks that missed its originally target and hit the kitchen window and behind it the skillet with hot oil. Mister and Misses Zealous were taking a nap, so nobody noticed the biting smell of smoke which would have saved their lifes. Since the police arrived, Mister Callum has been confessing and regretting everything he did. He said, he just wanted his right but nobody's death. And all that started with a borrowed screwdriver. May we hope that Christmas is still the time of forgive and forget. Have a Merry Christmas! Hanna Warren, DBC, Sacramento."
Emily stared at the flickering screen, not listening to the reporters' words any longer. What had happened in Sacramento reminded her of how all had started in med school.
She had been there for a year, she would finish school in Boston. And this one year had turned out to be her worst ever.
It hadn't started that bad. She was young – two years younger as she had had the luck of being able to attend school a year earlier and also skip one year in junior high – and not really beautiful, so she wouldn't have the problem of being disturbed from learning. Jesse was in the same class. At first, they got along well, helping each other in learning, she had problems with maths, he with physics. She envied him, because he was the accepted guy, though not all teachers liked him but that didn't seem to bother him, whereas Emily had soon her nickname 'teacher's darling'. It was the only friendship she had by the time. He dragged her to some students' parties where she sat in a corner, nipping coke, talking about the latest lessons. Jesse listened to her and tried his best to persuade her to dance.
Then came the day that changed everything. She had been in med school for eight months, and Jesse said it was time to celebrate two thirds of one year of med school. Emily laughed and told him that it was crazy to celebrate two thirds.
"Well, we haven't celebrated the first third, so you have at least to celebrate the two thirds twice as well." Jesse joked.
This logic made her laugh even more, and he said, she looked lovely when she laughed. His way of staring the other girls directly into their eyes, to which she had been resistent for a long time, frightened her now and she hurried out of the room.
However, the party took place a week later, and she danced with him. What a night! The best she ever had. In the end he accompanied her to her room and kissed her in front of the door. She wasn't quite aware what happened then, but somehow she woke up in her bed the next morning with a very good feeling, got up and dressed for school, Jesse waiting for her. During the morning she never lost a slight grin and was inattentive of what the professors said. After lunch she had to go to the library, and Jesse told her to meet her at seven in the evening for dinner. He would practise some golf until then.
She found her wanted information, left the library and thought of surprising Jesse at his golf practice. Having arrived at the course she was told that he hadn't turned up the whole day. Puzzled she left the golf course, heading to her room. On her way she decided to have a cappuccino and entered a café. She better had not. The café full of students, she didn't notice immediately a couple giggling and kissing next to the bar. Between phrases she exchanged with the man behind the counter she couldn't help but listen to the couple.
"You didn't have to come here," the female half of the couple said.
"I wanted." he answered.
"You've time?"
"Much time."
"How much?"
"The whole afternoon." Kiss. "I love you."
"You mean it?"
"I mean it. I love you."
Emily paid her cappuccino, took the cup and was searching for a free seat, as all of a sudden she spotted the couple she had been listening to the last two minutes. She stopped in her way, not believing what she saw there. It was Jesse. And he was kissing another woman.
"And… this girl, with whom you have a date this evening, you love her, too?"
"I love you. Only you."
"You two have a date."
"We don't have a date, it's nothing."
It's nothing! The most hurting words. His love for Emily was nothing but a lie! The rattling of her cup connecting with the ground draw everybody's attention onto her. Jesse swallowed hard, then stood up and went towards her.
"Emily, it's not what you think."
"Don't. Come. Any. Further."
"Please, Emily darling, let me explain to you." He made a step forward.
"I repeat: Don't. Come. Any. Further."
Before she realised what was happening, he had already grabbed her and kissed her for a long time. "I love you," he whispered into her ears, everybody watching them.
She made a step backwards and took a deep breath. Then she hit him with her right fist as hard as she could in his face. It hurt badly later at night. But, she told herself, it had been worth it.
This had been the beginning of hate.
Jesse awoke at the sound of his beeper. He ran a hand over his face, yawning, and stumbled to ER where he met with Mark. The paramedics were just wheeling a woman into ER. According to the number of bruises on her face whose colour told him it hadn't occurred long ago, he guessed it was her husband's fault that she lay here, with a broken arm and a mild concussion. The way Mark spoke to her told Jesse that she was the woman in the old building Mark and Steve had been in. Both doctors hurried in their examination, the husband not having arrived yet.
An hour later the husband was greeted by a furious look of Mark's who had difficulties with keeping himself under control. However the husband was allowed to visit his wife as soon as she was out of surgery.
The husband gone home later that evening, Mark slipped into her room.
"How are you, Misses Murrow?"
"I'm fine", she answered feebly.
"That's good. Have a rest. In here no one can do you any harm." Her eyes beamed thankfully.
"Doctor Sloan… the day you were at our apartment, you said you were looking for information about Magda and Ernest Barnabas."
"Yes, I'm still doing so."
"Doctor, I know them well. Perhaps I can help you."
"Any help is welcome. But you should really have some rest now. I'll come tomorrow, I promise. Then we have time."
"Yes, doctor." With that, she drifted into a secure sleep. Mark silently left her room.
What will Misses Murrow tell Mark? What has Emily to do with the murder? Will Jesse ever play Santa Clause?
Stay tuned! And have a Happy New Year! ~Sassy~
Still reading my story? Good. This'll gonna be a long chapter, so I keep my intro short.
Just one appetizer: You'll finally get to know why Emily hates Jesse!
Enjoy!
All disclaimers apply. The Murrows, Mister Tribbles, Miss deWinter, the Zealous and the Callums are mine.
Chapter 4: Shit happens
The weather had gone better in the last hours, it wasn't raining any longer, even the sun shone. Yet it was cool, when Mark and Steve went upstairs to the third floor where the couple had been shot down. The house had more of a low budget one than Mark had thought. Dust lay in thick heaps on the stairs, here and there surrounding a hole. The walls were painted with different graffiti, prettified with bullet holes. A smell of alcohol and butane acid was spread all over the whole building. A baby was crying in one of the rooms. Was it really a baby? Perhaps he should tell Steve to have a look, just to be sure. They had by now arrived in front of the Barnabas' room which was blocked by a yellow tape and under which father and son crawled through into what could hardly be called an apartment. The flat was as scanty and meagre as the staircase was not. Too meagre, as Mark noticed now. Not only there was no hint of the killer but neither that two people had lived here. There stood only a bed and an empty cupboard.
"The police have combed this room twice and more, but it's nearly as clean as a hospital room."
Mark looked at his son in astonishment. "So what have they been doing here? Hiding?" He walked to the dirty window next to the bed and looked onto the street. "By the way, who paid the rent if not them?" He turned to Steve. "And if they didn't want to be found, then they had to do it under another name. Someone found out…"
Steve watched his father frowning. "Dad?"
"Just a thought, Steve. Just an impossible thought." He walked over to his son. "Let's go. Oh and could we have a look at an apartment on one of the lower floors?"
"Well, will you tell me why and which one exactly?" Steve followed his dad out of the room.
"I heard… Someone screamed, and I was wondering whether it really was a baby. Though by the volume…"
"And the apartment is?"
"I don't know."
Steve grimaced. "So what do you want me to do? Knock on each door and ask 'Excuse me, Sir, my Dad was just curious if you hit your wife. May we talk to her and examine her?' ?"
"C'mon, Steve. I've become a doctor so that I can help people."
"And you can play detective whenever you want."
Mark giggled but got serious immediately afterwards. "Step aside and let me…"
He was interrupted by a cracking sound in one of the rooms on the first floor, where they had by now arrived, and then a man ran past them, leaving an open door and a crying person behind him. Steve was about to run after him, but Mark held him back shaking his head and forming a toneless "no" with his mouth, gesturing him to come to the door. A small piece of creased paper told him that here were the Murrows living.
Inside lay the remainings of a cupboard that looked identical to the one they had found in Magda's and Ernest's room. And somewhere in a corner of the room sat a crouched woman whimpering. Cautiously in order not to destroy the splintered cupboard they climbed over it, giving no thought to knock on the door. The sudden shatter of wood as Steve got stuck and tore his leg off a nailed board made the woman crouch even more and put her arms over her head, not daring to look up.
"No. No! Go. Away." she murmured between sobs. Mark cleared his throat. She moved her head slowly, still her arms around her head, still sobbing terrified. Having recognized that there was no danger awaiting her, she dried her eyes with the sleeves of her grey pullover and said, "Sorry, Misters… just missed my husband. Dunno where he's right now. You wait here or… or come back tomorrow. Won't be late. I…"
"Misses Murrow, we don't want to talk to your husband, we'd like to talk to you." Mark said in his I'm-a-doctor-so-don't-be-afraid-tone. She had put on again her angstful expression nevertheless. "I'm Doctor Mark Sloan and this is my son Steve Sloan. Actually, we're… investigating the murder of a couple who lives two floors above yours."
Relieved that she was no longer the centre of their concern, she spoke, "The murder of Magda and Ernest, hm? I've heard. Bad thing." She got up and went to the other side of the room where stood a box with bottles of water. She took one and continued talking. "Stolen you some medicine?" And on Mark's puzzled look, "everybody knew what they did."
"According to their room it didn't seem they'd been living there for long."
"You don't know who else is living here. If I told the police that Mister Tribbles next door has some interesting plants growing in his rooms, or that Miss deWinter often goes shopping at night, filling her bags with TVs and radios and that kinda stuff, this house would sooner or later be completely deserted. Though there has been some kinda come and go in the last weeks." Mark glimpsed Steve whose face had turned to embarrassment, him being detective but not able to arrest anyone. Not now. Until they left… "Not that I have anything to do with them. We say Hello in the staircase, and that's that. Will you excuse me? My husband will be back soon, and if I haven't tidied up till then, all hell will be broken loose."
"You should check the bruises on your face, maybe something is broken."
"Doctor…"
"Sloan."
"Doctor Sloan, I'm okay. Really."
"Well, okay. But in case you decide to go to a hospital, here's my card. I work in Community General." He gave her a small piece of paper which she hid in her trousers. Just at that moment Mark's beeper went off. "Sorry to have disturbed you."
"Doesn't matter, Doctor Sloan!"
Mark and Steve said Goodbye and headed outside to Steve's car in front of the house.
"Why didn't you tell her that I'm from the police?" Steve asked as they were sitting in the car and driving towards CG.
"She'd never have told us about the inhabitants. Neither would she do in hospital. Believe me, doctors are more trustworthy than policemen."
"I'm no policeman, I'm a detective."
"You arrest people, that's enough."
"May I at least check the other inhabitants, Dad?" he asked like a nine-year-old would ask who'd like to play with a toy gun.
"Yes, you may. But be careful. If you don't mind, wait a week or so."
Steve drove into the parking lot of CGH. "You're pretty sure she'll turn up in hospital."
"I'm afraid yes. I hope at least she comes walking, not wheeled in on a gurney. Could you…"
"Check her husband's background?"
Mark nodded. "Yes. Thanks, Steve." He sighed. "Well, now I see why Emily was complaining about rents and rooms in LA yesterday. Especially this one didn't suit her…" Getting out of the car he added, "You're at home this evening?"
"Is it my turn to cook?"
"Fortunately not."
The glance that Steve threw at his father spoke volumes. Mark smiled innocently and turned around to where he worked.
"No, Amanda!"
"Please!!!"
"No. I. Won't. Do. That. Basta!"
"CJ and Dion will love you for this!"
"CJ and Dion are old enough not to believe in Santa Clause."
"They don't dare think of a non-existent Santa Clause."
"Why can't he come through the roof like into every other house?"
"Aww, come on, Jesse, one last time."
"Last year CJ nearly exposed me when he tugged at my coat and I almost lost balance."
"But you didn't."
"No, 'cause your Christmas tree was in my way." Jesse grimaced at the thought of itching and scratching needles.
"I'll buy you some broader stilts."
"That's humiliating."
"That's long stuff for short stuff. And I'm gonna add a thick cushion."
"Oh no, Amanda."
"Well, that's how a Santa Clause has to look like. And as you eat but don't put on weight, that's the only way to prepare you."
"Why me? Steve's taller, he'd only need a cushion."
"He hasn't got as much patience as you have. And I'm gonna treat Santa Clause to a dinner."
That convinced Jesse. "How do women always succeed? Have to ask Steve the next time I see him."
"CJ and Dion are already looking forward to Christmas though it's still five weeks to go."
Jesse smiled. "Well, now that you've spoiled my lunch break, I've gotta go back to work. See ya."
"Bye." Amanda answered in a singing way.
Five days later, Emily had still some days to get used to her new home, work should start on the first of December. While buying wallpapers and carpets, and furnishing her apartment with the help of a skilled workman, she hadn't had the time to roam LA. Thus, she was rather happy, that one evening, it was Sunday, she sat on her new couch, a glass of coke in her hand, zapping through the channels of her new TV. One program caught her eye. A reporter was standing next to a burning house. Firemen and policemen were busy in getting the whole scene under control.
"…poisoned the neighbours' dog. As if this wouldn't have been enough, Mister Callum painted Mister Zealous' car, so when Mister Zealous saw this, he countered with a truck full of chrysanthemums, for he knew that Misses Callum was allergic against these flowers. What followed was a fireworks that missed its originally target and hit the kitchen window and behind it the skillet with hot oil. Mister and Misses Zealous were taking a nap, so nobody noticed the biting smell of smoke which would have saved their lifes. Since the police arrived, Mister Callum has been confessing and regretting everything he did. He said, he just wanted his right but nobody's death. And all that started with a borrowed screwdriver. May we hope that Christmas is still the time of forgive and forget. Have a Merry Christmas! Hanna Warren, DBC, Sacramento."
Emily stared at the flickering screen, not listening to the reporters' words any longer. What had happened in Sacramento reminded her of how all had started in med school.
She had been there for a year, she would finish school in Boston. And this one year had turned out to be her worst ever.
It hadn't started that bad. She was young – two years younger as she had had the luck of being able to attend school a year earlier and also skip one year in junior high – and not really beautiful, so she wouldn't have the problem of being disturbed from learning. Jesse was in the same class. At first, they got along well, helping each other in learning, she had problems with maths, he with physics. She envied him, because he was the accepted guy, though not all teachers liked him but that didn't seem to bother him, whereas Emily had soon her nickname 'teacher's darling'. It was the only friendship she had by the time. He dragged her to some students' parties where she sat in a corner, nipping coke, talking about the latest lessons. Jesse listened to her and tried his best to persuade her to dance.
Then came the day that changed everything. She had been in med school for eight months, and Jesse said it was time to celebrate two thirds of one year of med school. Emily laughed and told him that it was crazy to celebrate two thirds.
"Well, we haven't celebrated the first third, so you have at least to celebrate the two thirds twice as well." Jesse joked.
This logic made her laugh even more, and he said, she looked lovely when she laughed. His way of staring the other girls directly into their eyes, to which she had been resistent for a long time, frightened her now and she hurried out of the room.
However, the party took place a week later, and she danced with him. What a night! The best she ever had. In the end he accompanied her to her room and kissed her in front of the door. She wasn't quite aware what happened then, but somehow she woke up in her bed the next morning with a very good feeling, got up and dressed for school, Jesse waiting for her. During the morning she never lost a slight grin and was inattentive of what the professors said. After lunch she had to go to the library, and Jesse told her to meet her at seven in the evening for dinner. He would practise some golf until then.
She found her wanted information, left the library and thought of surprising Jesse at his golf practice. Having arrived at the course she was told that he hadn't turned up the whole day. Puzzled she left the golf course, heading to her room. On her way she decided to have a cappuccino and entered a café. She better had not. The café full of students, she didn't notice immediately a couple giggling and kissing next to the bar. Between phrases she exchanged with the man behind the counter she couldn't help but listen to the couple.
"You didn't have to come here," the female half of the couple said.
"I wanted." he answered.
"You've time?"
"Much time."
"How much?"
"The whole afternoon." Kiss. "I love you."
"You mean it?"
"I mean it. I love you."
Emily paid her cappuccino, took the cup and was searching for a free seat, as all of a sudden she spotted the couple she had been listening to the last two minutes. She stopped in her way, not believing what she saw there. It was Jesse. And he was kissing another woman.
"And… this girl, with whom you have a date this evening, you love her, too?"
"I love you. Only you."
"You two have a date."
"We don't have a date, it's nothing."
It's nothing! The most hurting words. His love for Emily was nothing but a lie! The rattling of her cup connecting with the ground draw everybody's attention onto her. Jesse swallowed hard, then stood up and went towards her.
"Emily, it's not what you think."
"Don't. Come. Any. Further."
"Please, Emily darling, let me explain to you." He made a step forward.
"I repeat: Don't. Come. Any. Further."
Before she realised what was happening, he had already grabbed her and kissed her for a long time. "I love you," he whispered into her ears, everybody watching them.
She made a step backwards and took a deep breath. Then she hit him with her right fist as hard as she could in his face. It hurt badly later at night. But, she told herself, it had been worth it.
This had been the beginning of hate.
Jesse awoke at the sound of his beeper. He ran a hand over his face, yawning, and stumbled to ER where he met with Mark. The paramedics were just wheeling a woman into ER. According to the number of bruises on her face whose colour told him it hadn't occurred long ago, he guessed it was her husband's fault that she lay here, with a broken arm and a mild concussion. The way Mark spoke to her told Jesse that she was the woman in the old building Mark and Steve had been in. Both doctors hurried in their examination, the husband not having arrived yet.
An hour later the husband was greeted by a furious look of Mark's who had difficulties with keeping himself under control. However the husband was allowed to visit his wife as soon as she was out of surgery.
The husband gone home later that evening, Mark slipped into her room.
"How are you, Misses Murrow?"
"I'm fine", she answered feebly.
"That's good. Have a rest. In here no one can do you any harm." Her eyes beamed thankfully.
"Doctor Sloan… the day you were at our apartment, you said you were looking for information about Magda and Ernest Barnabas."
"Yes, I'm still doing so."
"Doctor, I know them well. Perhaps I can help you."
"Any help is welcome. But you should really have some rest now. I'll come tomorrow, I promise. Then we have time."
"Yes, doctor." With that, she drifted into a secure sleep. Mark silently left her room.
What will Misses Murrow tell Mark? What has Emily to do with the murder? Will Jesse ever play Santa Clause?
Stay tuned! And have a Happy New Year! ~Sassy~