Intentional End
Chapter 27
Wednesday Morning
October 17
Deakins stepped into Bobby's room and saw the man on top of the bedspread, curled on his side. "Bobby, wake up," he called from the doorway between the rooms. Bobby didn't budge. Shit, Deakins thought, glancing at the empty bottle on its side on the nightstand. He walked over and stood between the beds, reached down and shook his detective, "Come on, wake up." He didn't move.
Goddamn it thought Deakins and went into the bathroom, returning with a sopping wet hand towel. He held the dripping towel with one hand and moved Bobby's legs off the bed with the other. Then, he hauled Bobby up by pulling on his upper arm. Bobby moaned and reluctantly sat up like a rag doll. Deakins hefted the sopping towel and put it on Bobby's face.
Bobby jolted and pushed and pulled away the towel, sputtering. "What the fuck are you doing?" he asked angrily, "Jesus Christ."
"Get up. Go get washed, Jack will be here in half an hour."
Bobby's head was splitting and he was blinded when Deakins swept open the drapes. "God Almighty! Shut those, will you?!"
"Get going, we have to be ready."
Bobby sat slumped on the bed, feet on the floor. He felt like shit – his head pounded and his tongue felt wrapped in wool. Slowly he rose, only because he had to pee, and shuffled toward the bathroom.
"Here, you'll need this," Deakins said and followed Bobby to the bathroom. He turned and Deakins handed him a small kit. "I called down stairs and asked if they had a toothbrush and stuff. Use these." Bobby took the offered item and shut the bathroom door.
Deakins returned to his room to call Angie and heard Bobby vomiting. Jesus Christ, Deakins thought.
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Jack was waiting in the lobby when the pair turned the corner from the elevator. He was mildly shocked at Bobby's appearance; the man looked like he had been drinking. Bobby stood to the side didn't look anyone in the eye. Jack had taken care of the bill and Deakins asked if the gentleman who had provided the food last night was around. The desk clerk stepped through the door behind the desk and Antonio returned; he looked a wreck as well.
"I want to thank you for bringing us the food last night."
Antonio just nodded and glanced at Bobby, standing staring at the floor. "It was my pleasure." It was clear the man wanted to say more and speak with Bobby. "We, uh, we here at this hotel love Dr. W. She stayed with us several times. She is a wonderful, wonderful woman." He hesitated, looked at Bobby and asked, "Do you think I might speak with her husband?"
"Of course, I think he would like that."
Antonio came around the desk and walked slowly to where Bobby stood. Bobby glanced up as the man approached.
"Mr. Goren, I, I want, your wife, she –," and he broke down. Bobby looked at the small man and put his hand on Antonio's arm. Bobby watched him cry and then joined him. Jack and Deakins looked to the floor as the detective and desk manager embraced and cried together.
Bobby spoke quietly and briefly to Antonio who nodded. They both removed handkerchiefs and then shook hands. Antonio walked back behind the desk and through the door and Bobby headed for his companions. Without a word, the three headed to the Quartermaine House and Gleason's apartment.
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"So, is this one done?" Peterson asked his subordinate.
"Yes," Wycoff answered simply.
Peterson stood and walked to the window, fuming, but masking it. "Tell me why this one required three collaterals."
He knew this was coming, he had been dreading it since the expedition began. "Look, Sutton was talking about going to the press while still at the site. He needed to be silenced. He has no family and it looked like a hit and run."
Peterson waited.
"That professor woman – she wouldn't blank. We tried everything, nothing would wipe her. Then, her goddamn husband started screwing with her response sequence and she became increasingly unstable. She needed to go."
"We'll discuss the husband. What about the neighbour?"
Wycoff sighed and proceeded to explain, "She was at the wrong place at the wrong time. That's it. Robinson did what he was trained to do, he removed a witness. That's it."
Peterson shook his head and said, "That detective husband is a smart bastard. When he finds out his neighbour was murdered, in a secured building no less, how long do you think it will take him to figure out that her death is connected to his wife's?" Peterson's volume and steam were rising.
"Look, he's not going to put anything together. His wife's death was an accident -- an old battery in a detector and a loose connection on her heater. I took care of those details personally."
"How do you know he won't put it together? This bastard is a genius for godsakes!"
A cold chill ran down Wycoff's back. He realised then the significant error it had been to snag the detective off the street that one morning. Perhaps he had underestimated the professor's husband. He didn't want Peterson to know what he had done.
Wycoff's silence prompted Peterson's suspicions. "What? Jesus Christ, do not tell me you encountered that man." Wycoff's inability to look at his boss confirmed Peterson's suspicions. "Holy Mother of God, you fucking idiot!" Peterson strode to his desk and lifted the phone.
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Gladys walked toward Gleason's apartment door with the key as the three men exited the vehicle. The estate manager was a tough old gal, but it was obvious she had been crying most of the night. "Detective," she said with her hand out, "I'm very sorry about this. I was asked to give you this envelope; it's from the owner's lawyer. You are to contact them regarding any suit you plan to bring against the estate." Bobby ignored her and the offered envelope.
Deakins took the envelope and Gladys opened the door. The three stood back, waiting for Bobby to enter. He hesitated, looked down, shuffled a bit, took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped inside. Deakins followed and then Jack; Gladys waited in the doorway. Bobby stood and looked around. He gulped breaths as he walked toward the bedroom doors. He stopped with his hand on the one and looked at the bed and began to cry in earnest. Deakins crossed to him, put his hand on his friend's shoulder, and fought his own tears.
The bedcovers were still swept back from where they covered Gleason's boy, her pillow bore the indent from where her head lay. Bobby walked to the bed and gently swept his hand over where she slept. He turned and sat, lifting her pillow to his face and sobbed into it. Deakins turned and shut the doors, leaving Bobby in private with his wife's scent.
Gladys cried softly while Deakins stood with his hands over his face. These two days were the hardest he had ever had to live. He could not imagine what Bobby was going through and he hoped he never would.
Jack said quietly, "I've got some boxes and tape in the trunk. I'll go get them."
"Give me your keys. I'll get them," Gladys offered. "Please, I need something to do."
Jack looked at the woman and handed her his key ring with the trunk key extended.
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"Who are you calling?" Wycoff asked, barely masking the tremble in his voice.
Peterson just looked at his soon-to-be-former agent and then said, "Peterson. Let me speak to him."
Wycoff began to sweat and his bowels tilted. This is it, he thought. It's real, they really do it. His hand slid over his upper lip, wiping away the beads of perspiration. "Look, uh, this, this isn't necessary. I was planning on resigning anyway."
The director turned his back and whispered into the phone, turned back to face the other man, hung up and said, "Get out of here."
Wycoff stood a minute, not understanding and then left.
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A few minutes later, Bobby emerged from the bedroom clutching Gleason's pillow and green throw. "I want to take these with me," he said softly.
"Of course, Bobby, of course. Here, set them on this chair and let's get the other things ready."
Bobby nodded and carefully set the items on the upholstered chair; Deakins moved to take Bobby's coat. Deakins and Jack removed theirs as Gladys returned with boxes and rolls of tape.
The four people stood silently still for a minute, not knowing how to begin. "What things do you want to take, Bobby?" Deakins asked finally.
Bobby looked around and returned to the bedroom. The three watched as he pulled open and then closed the drawers in her dresser, removing only her green nightgown and one undershirt, setting them on the chest at the foot of the bed. Gladys stepped between the men with a box and put the items into the box.
Bobby found her diamond wedding ring and the silver chain that had tied their rings together inside the small black drawstring bag. Beside it sat the small flat box that had held the gold and onyx necklace he had given her at the beginning of their relationship. He slipped both into the pocket inside his suit coat, next to his heart.
Finished with the dresser, Bobby moved to the closet, taking only the sweater and shawl they had purchased on their honeymoon, handing them to Gladys who folded them inside the box. Bobby removed her carpetbag from the closet floor and set it beside the box of clothing; Gladys made it fit. He bundled up her dirty clothes and carried them to the box as well.
Jack and Deakins looked around the living room and kitchen. They noticed no photos, no artwork; no personal items of any sort. Jack said to his friend, "What about her computer?"
"Yeah, I think it's hers. Is there a case somewhere?" They busied themselves packing up her technology.
Bobby looked around the bedroom, staring a long time at the bed; he seemed to rouse himself after a few minutes of staring and said quietly, "Thank you for helping me with this," to the estate manager. She nodded in return.
Bobby shuddered another deep breath and walked to the bathroom. He opened the cabinet and removed her birth control and heart pills. He took the unopened bar of cinnamon soap and removed the partial one from the shower. Her hairbrush, comb and a small box of hairpins and various clips sat on the shelf between the sink and cabinet. He gathered those things and left everything else. Gladys found several small plastic kitchen bags with a zipper closing and Bobby set the used bar of soap inside and the box of pins and clips in the other; Gladys set the bags, brush and comb in the box with the clothes.
Bobby opened and shut each kitchen drawer and cupboard, taking only the teapot, cozy and box of tea. Gladys wrapped the teapot securely and set it in among Gleason's clothes.
Bobby went to the coat closet and found Gleason's brown leather bag on the floor. He took it and set her pills inside; Deakins handed Bobby her cell phone and charger and they went into her bag as well. Bobby took her wrap and left her long coat. He checked the pockets, however and found tissues and a receipt; he put those into his pocket. He left her hat, scarf and gloves.
Bobby moved to the small file cabinet and looked through the stacks of papers on top. Folders for each of her classes and other items related to her university work were set aside on the kitchen table. Bobby took her textbooks and a box containing drafts of her third manuscript. He opened the two file drawers and closed them as they contained more files with class notes and such.
That was it. Her small apartment had been gleaned in less than an hour. The four stood quietly, as when they had when they entered.
"Anything else, Bobby?" Deakins asked. Bobby looked around from where he stood and shook his head. He picked up Gleason's pillow and throw and stood, clutching them to his chest as would a child.
"I'll tape up this box and ship it to his home in New York," Gladys offered. "You guys want to grab the computer bag and the books?"
Jack picked up the manuscript and textbooks while Deakins took the computer bag. Bobby lifted Gleason's purse and the three headed to the car. Bobby got in the back seat with his three things while the other two men organized the other things in the trunk and then reorganized them after Gladys brought the box.
"How about if we stop and get a wheeled suitcase for him to put her pillow, blanket and purse in?" Jack suggested. "Her books and papers can go in as well."
"That's good, Jack; yeah, let's do that."
They rode in silence until Jack said, "Uh, Detective, do you want to go to her office at the university?"
Bobby had thought about this. "Yeah, thanks. Margrave, she's in Margrave."
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Detectives of Midtown North finished interviewing everyone in Bobby's building at the time of the murder. No one saw or heard anything. "That's a secured building, how did the perp get in?" Eames asked Det. Morrow from Midtown North.
"That's what we're trying to figure out. We found no trace in or outside the apartment. No prints other than the old lady's. It looked like a professional kill; whoever did this had training. The old lady never knew what hit her."
Eames was exhausted. She was working the dead pilot's case herself and now the dead neighbour. Her head ached from lack of sleep and she had to get something to eat before she fell over.
"So, what are you thinking?"
"The building has no security camera, so there's nothing to watch. Perhaps the perp slipped in after a tenant – you know, caught the door before it shut. Or, he faked his way in, buzzed a tenant with a delivery, the tenant buzzed him in and off he goes."
"This old woman was not the target. Who kills an old woman for no reason? Nothing was missing, no ransack. It looked like he didn't step inside the apartment after killing her." The two detectives were silent a moment.
"You think he was after someone else and the old lady interrupted?"
Eames went cold. Bobby. They were after Bobby. And Gleason, but she had already left. But they would know that, wouldn't they? Eames' mind raced to remember what Bobby had told her about his suspicions regarding the work Gleason had been off doing. He said she had been abducted by the government. The FBI.
Det. Morrow watched her think, "What are you thinking?"
"Uh, I need to make a few phone calls. Where can I reach you?"
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Jack Emerson drove to the university and parked in the lot nearest Margrave. The trio walked to the second floor and stopped at the receptionist desk in the faculty office area. Mrs. Cornwell sat with red eyes, wiping her nose. A plump student stood off to the side, wiping her eyes.
Seeing Bobby enter the area, Mrs. Cornwall stood up and exclaimed, "Oh, Mr. Goren, oh God, I am so, so sorry!" coming around the desk, her weeping increasing. Bobby stopped, stepped back and put up two hands, palms out. He didn't look at anyone.
"We're here to remove Dr. Wintermantle's personal effects," Jack said to the woman with some authority, displaying his badge.
"Certainly, certainly. Go on back." Mrs. Cornwall stepped aside and Bobby led the way to his late wife's office.
Bobby opened the door and Malcolm Conway turned from the window.
"What the fuck are you doing here you bastard?" Bobby growled.
Malcolm had been crying and wiped his face with his hands so he wasn't prepared for Bobby's lunge. Both Deakins and Jack were surprised by Bobby's move and missed grabbing him. Bobby was on Malcolm in an instant and had him pushed against the window, his hands around the professor's throat.
Deakins and Jack dragged Bobby off the other man and Jack pushed him into Gleason's desk chair. Deakins stood between the two and told Malcolm to leave.
Malcolm rubbed his throat and coughed. He headed for the door, stopped, turned and said to Bobby, "I loved her, too." Malcolm turned and left.
Bobby sat gasping, his head was going to split wide open, and he thought he was going to throw up. He bent, elbows on knees, head in his hands.
"Jesus Christ, Bobby! Who the hell was that? Do you want to be charged with assault?" Deakins almost shouted.
He sat up, ignored his boss, wiped his face with his hands, turned and pulled open Gleason's top desk drawer. His eyes swept the contents and he pushed it shut. He yanked open the top drawer on the left, scanned and slammed it shut. He did the same with each of the drawers on both sides until the last one. He pulled open the last drawer on the right and stopped. It was flat, wrapped in brown paper, tied with strands of orange paper ribbon and he recognised it.
Bobby set it on the desktop and ran his hands over the paper, his head tilted to the left. Finally, he said, "There's nothing here. Let's go," he stood, picked up the package, came around the desk and headed down the hall. Bobby walked straight through the main hall, down the steps and out into the air. Deakins and Jack followed him.
"Metro Air has flights to New York just about every two hours. Let's go get a suitcase and some lunch if he wants and then we'll head to O'Hare." Bobby didn't even listen; he sat in the back seat and stroked the paper covering the book she had bought for him.
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