Chapter 5: Shop Smart. Shop S-Mart
"Doctor Tilly?" the receptionist called to the red haired doctor as she passed by.
"Yes?" she answered. The girl behind the glass partitioned desk pointed behind the taller woman with her pen.
"You have some visitors," the Doctor was shocked. She'd been at Sunny Meadows for five years, and none ever came to visit either her or her patients. Well, not counting their lawyers, but those dogs always notified the good doctor far too many times before their arrivals.
"Huh," was all the doctor uttered. The two men stood in the otherwise empty, chair filled waiting room. Each wore a black suit and tie identical to the other. Very Blues Brothers, she thought. Honestly, each of them were a lot better looking than either Dan Akyroyd or John Belushi. The "suits" looked awfully young too. Dr. Tilly straightened her pencil skirt and tucked a free lock of hair behind her ear while the boys entertained their bored selves with the scenery. Needless to so the view wasn't very entertaining. She inhaled deep, applied a glossy smile, and allowed her heels to click the entire length of her stroll.
"Hi," she greeted the boys pleasantly, extending her hand. Both appeared to be taken aback by this gesture, "I'm Dr. Renee Tilly," she elaborated, "How can I help you?"
"Oh, well, Dr. Tilly," the short haired one took the lead, shaking the doctor's hand first. His initial reaction of stun subsided as he spoke, "I'm sure there's plenty of things you can help us with," he cocked a crooked smile. Renee smirked in reply, though biting her lip as she did.
"Ahem," the second one cleared his throat.
"Oh, right, my name is Detective Meyers and this is my partner Detective Curtis from Detroit," the first introduced them both. The officers quickly flashed their badges before the doctor's eyes, making her dizzy. Uh oh, conversations that started like this never ended on a high note, "we'd like to speak with one of your patients," and this one was losing altitude fast.
"Which?" she asked sweetly, the same false smile still plastered to her lips.
"An Ashley J. Williams—"
"No," Dr. Tilly dropped the friendly façade at once. Both men were stunned into silence at Renee's sudden twist. Her demeanor iced the air between the trio and the doctor's cold blue eyes turned piercing.
"Beg your pardon?" Meyers asked, agitation laced his voice.
"My patient, Mr. Williams, is in no condition to speak to anyone," the woman answered professionally.
"M'am," the second officer began. Dr. Tilly's gaze snapped to Detective Curtis, stabbing him with her deep blues, "Dr. Tilly, we're here to talk to your patient concerning a Detective Ward."
Meyers chimed in, "Perhaps you've heard of his…"
"Passing?" the doctor finished, "I believe I read about that in the papers. Tragic. He was on Williams' case was he not?"
"Yyyes," the detectives nodded.
"We'd actually like to ask Mr. Williams some questions about some of the…" Curtis searched for the proper word, "circumstances of the detective's death."
"I read it was suicide," Renee managed to startle the boys yet again.
"Well," Meyers smirked, "aren't you well informed."
"I try," Dr. Tilly sighed with a smirk of her own.
"Dr. Tilly," the softer voice of the second detective addressed, "Detective Ward had been hording evidence from your patient's case in his home for years. One of the things he had stolen was a tape recording we have reason to believe he listened to just moments before his death," Curtis's eyes pleaded with the doctor. For a moment Renee almost thought her will would buckle beneath his sweet features.
"And it would just be a big ole help if we could talk to the only other person left alive who knew what was on that tape," his partner snapped their concluding statement. Dr. Tilly's defenses tightened.
"Well Detectives, shouldn't that tape be back in your possession, now?" Renee spoke in her sugar coated tone, "Why don't you just go ahead and listen to it yourselves?"
The boys pause briefly, each remembering how not well their conversation with Lieutenant Bixler went earlier that morning.
"Listen, Agents Carpenter and King," he huffed, his overweight belly bouncing as he did so, "I don't know who it is that's been running their mouth to the press—or where you've been getting your information from for that matter—but Detective Ward's tragic passing had nothing to do with the Cabin Fever case!"
"So one of your most respected former detectives kills himself after listening to a tape found at the scene of one of Michigan's most gruesome murders and you think one has absolutely nothing to do with the other?" Dean Winchester nearly laughed at the Lieutenant's naivety.
"I told you we don't know for sure Ward was listening to that thing before he died!"
"Right, so the stopped tape recorder was just a coincidence?"
"What the hell is the FBI doing investigating a suicide like this, anyhow?" The heavy man questioned his frustration with the suits before him evident.
"The truth is sir," Sam always knew when to throw politeness into the mix, "What we're really interested in is the tape. Is there any chance, any what so ever we can have a chance to listen to that tape?"
"Why?" was Bixler's initial bark. Sam sighed.
"That's on a need to know basis," Dean interrupted, "and quite frankly, Bixy, you don't need to know."
"Humph," the Lieutenant's massive stomach shook, "well you can't," his voice turned grave.
"Ex-cuse me?"
"We had a break in last night," Dean rubbed a hand over his chin; Sam sighed once more and laced his fingers through his hair. Nobody needed to be psychic to foresee what Bixler was about to tell them next, "In our evidence locker. Guess what was stolen?"
"Shit…" the eldest Winchester brother mumbled.
The less than helpful Lieutenant snarled, "Good luck listening to those tapes now," a cynical chuckled then escaped the man, "Fuck, maybe if you had gotten here sooner to pick up those tapes one of my guys would home with his wife and kids right now. Instead he's down at the morgue getting a butcher knife pulled out of 'em."
"What else did they take?" Sam inquired.
"Fucking, everything in that damned box…Sir,"
"We'll be going now," the youngest immediately replied, "thank you." The brothers turned to leave, annoyed and empty handed.
"Oh, and Tennessee," Lieutenant Bixler sneered.
"What?" Dean snapped.
"Michigan's most gruesome murders actually happened in Tennessee. Williams was just arrested for shooting the shit out a little old lady on a shopping spree in a Michigan S-mart."
"Ahem," Detective Meyers cleared his throat, "let's just say that complications arose and the tape is no longer in our procession."
"Oohhh," Dr. Tilly sighed, "Well it that case," her voice lightened with false hope, "no!"
Renee turned smartly on her heels and prepared to leave these aggravating junior investigators behind. She got no farther than three steps before she felt the pull on her sleeve.
"Listen lady," Meyers hissed. She swatted his hand off the cuff of her shirt sleeve, mouth agape. That amount of contact was far too inappropriate and unprofessional, "I've had it up to here with people blowing us off—"
"What my partner is trying to ask," Curtis stepped in, "is that—"
"NO!" the woman doctor finally shouted, her voice firm and infallible.
"What is so awful about this guy that you won't let us see him?" Meyers sighed.
Renee blew that pesky stray hair out of its tangle in her eyelashes. She bolted her feet to the floor and strengthened her stance by placing both hands upon her hips, "Listen officers," despite her growing anger the doctor still managed to speak with that same deliberate sweetness, "I've seen plenty of…confused…" a fine euphemism for insane, "men—and women for that matter—get dragged through here claiming that the CIA, aliens, Hamlet's father and the ghost of Elvis Presley told them to do it. Each and every single one of their minds and spirits were splintered and fragmented so much that they couldn't even tie their shoes properly by their end let along carry on any sort of normal human interaction!" Dr. Tilly hadn't noticed the rise in her voice and the increasing depth of her breathing until after her speech. The young detectives eyed her curiously.
"Are, you saying you don't think Williams is crazy?" Meyers asked her in disbelief.
"Oh, no he's nine kinds of crazy," her reply prompted the raise of an eyebrow, "but there is just something else about him," she leaned in closer compensate for her lowered voice, "something just…wrong, he's one—" Renee bit her lip. She became a doctor to be able to understand and cure people, and she almost admitted her lack of understanding for Ash Williams in every way possible, "and I don't think you'll be able to get any information worth your while out of him. Besides I think he'll say anything to avoid the death penalty."
"Oh this place seems like paradise compared to that,"
Renee smiled, "we do our best."
"Please, Doctor," Curtis spoke, "we're very much aware of how unreliable this will probably turn out to be, but we still need to at least try."
Dr. Tilly growled to herself. She was no match for his innocent plea. Damn him. Damn all men.
"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," she exhaled.
"Well I'm gad you've finally decided to see things our way," the other officer chirped, "otherwise I think we would have been forced to arrest you for interfering with our investigation."
Renee's only reply to this was the roll of her eyes.
Oh, well, look whose back? Did you miss me?
"Mr. Williams!" Lady Doc's sharp voice barked behind the plastic. Well, apparently you're not the only one.
"Afternoon, Doctor!" I greeted her pleasantly as Teddy unlocked my cell, "is it that time already?"
From where I sat, Lady Doc was not alone behind that clear plastic. Two fellas in black suits stood dutifully behind her. While I was staring those two guys down I heard the ruffling of cloth. In the threshold Doc was holding up a familiar white coat. She doesn't normally offer me one of these things herself. She has Ted—or another one of her man servants—do it.
"C'mon, Doc, don't we know each other better than this by now?" I stood from my rickety metal cot, showing my empty hand and stub as a sign of good faith, "must we always use protection?"
Lady Doc didn't laugh, but one of the goons behind her sure did. Though he stifled the chuckle the moment her razor pupils cornered him.
"It's alright," the second assured the beast, "that won't be necessary, I don't think."
In a sigh of defeat—a gesture I have never before bore witness to with this woman—she stepped aside and allowed the two to pass.
"Who are these guys?" I questioned, retaking that seat on my white sheeted cot.
"Mr. Williams these are detectives Meyers and Curtis from Detroit," my Doc answered for them, "they'd like to ask you a few questions," she watched them for a moment as they filed into the room, all four hands buried into black pockets. And I likewise watched them watch me. I could see them drinking in my appearance, ranking me. No doubt they caught my singularly hand, permanently scarred lip and chin, the strips of gray growing in my scalp and my slightly out of shape physique. "I'll leave you three alone," never! She would never do that, she doesn't trust me enough. But she truly departs us, leaving Ted to stand guard at my door.
Meyers and Curtis wait until they can no longer hear the clicks of her heels against the linoleum to speak. "Ashley, is it?" the first speaks.
"Ash, actually," the two exchanged a queer glance. Nooo, I don't mean that kind of queer. Strange! "What's this all about?" I asked just as the detective opened his mouth once more, "I couldn't possibly have done anything else. My alibi's solid."
"Do you remember a Detective Ward?" the second said. How could I forget, the guy wanted me to fry.
"Yeah,"
"He's dead," the first snaps. Boy can these guys tag team.
"Oh, well, my condolences to the family, though I doubt they'd wanna hear it from me,"
"Suicide," he continued, "jumped out a window, ate pavement," ouch, "stole evidence."
I hold the stomp to my ear. If I still had a hand there I suppose the gesture would have looked more appropriate. You'd think I'd be used to it being gone by now, even if I was a righty. "Run that last part by me again?"
"Detective Ward had kept stolen evidence from your case in his home," the second, the calmer one I can tell, told me, "some old pieces of parchment."
My throat instantly dried. Oh no. Oh God no. I could feel my skin grow pale. Please God no. not the pages. Not the pages from the Necronomicon that Annie recovered. Not the pages I didn't get to burn!
Which, apparently burning that damned book wasn't as great an idea as I thought it was at the time. I really wanted to send those suckers out in a ball of smoke. And sure it worked, on their bodies. Didn't do shit to stop those evil things inside them, inside Scottie…and Cheryl… destroying their bodies only set those demons loose again.
"And a tape recorder…"
My head snapped up, "the incantations…" I mumbled thoughtlessly. Oh no, please no…
"We believe Detective Ward had been playing the same recording from…from your past the night he died," that bastard! That damned dirty bastard, if he did he damned us all! "And now these things have been stolen again from a Detroit Police evidence locker."
"God damn it!" I finally shouted, jumping to my feet.
"Ash, what was on that tape?" the first rushed toward me, grabbing my white t-shirt collar.
"The incantations," my body sagged, and he lowered me back to my cot. Both detectives crouched to meet my level.
"What sort of incantations?"
"The ones in the book, the Necronomicon, the same one's I've been warning you all about for years!" I cupped my chin in my hand and traced the L shaped scar there with a finger, "Professor Knowby's translations. He spoke the words aloud and woke the sleeping demons from their graves, and once they're out there's no stopping them," they didn't believe me, I could feel it, yet I couldn't stop, "if Ward played that tape then he's released an unspeakable evil onto all of mankind… and I'm not so sure I want to deal with that again."
You know, I was fine. Really, living in this hell hole with nobody here who couldn't give a rat's ass about me. Yeah it sucked, yeah I hated every single minute of it, but at least it was over. Things were safe, I said the words, and the world was a better place. All for the best, my suffering, right?
"W-what kind of evil?" the suits leaned in closer, "Like… sign of the apocalypse evil?" the first cautiously asked.
"Okay, who the hell are you?" they backed off at once. No cop believed me enough to indulge. None!
"We're detectives," the second fumbled for his badge. I could hear the clicking of high heels scampering down the hall. Apparently somebody had heard us getting a bit loud in here.
"To hell you are, Michael, Jamie Lee…" they gulped simultaneously, "oh what, you didn't think I'd notice? Get the hell out of here!"
"Mr. Williams,"
"You can't help me kid!" I doubt he was going to offer, "And until you tell me who you really are I don't see why I should help you. It's screwheads like you guys and Ward and Knowby that shit like this happens in the first place!"
"What kind of shit?!" the first demanded.
"All I got it one piece of advice for you two," I rolled my shoulder, causing it to crack loudly, "load your shotguns and invest in some serious hardware. I know where you could buy some."
"What the hell is going on in here?!"
do not be alarmed, but i will not be updating regularly over the weekend. ill be back by...tuesday i think. have a good next four days.