Chapter 32
Dr. Mallory was dead. Bobby's estimate was that he was killed the night before. He was on one knee beside the body, giving it the scrutiny that only Bobby could give on the scene.
"Hey," Alex called out behind him, and his muscles twitched in surprise. He'd spoken to her on the phone ten minutes ago, asked her to call in an ASL interpreter. He shouldn't have been surprised by her appearance.
He'd been avoiding her for more than three weeks. Ever since the argument, the night he gave the money to Frank, he'd only had contact with her at work. Bobby's voice was quiet as he responded to her greeting. "Yeah," he said.
Alex, of course, was all business. In her mind, whatever had transpired between them was past now, whether she liked it or not. She still watched him closely; she still tried to care for him… as a friend. She showed Bobby how the windows were boarded up for the St. Patrick's Day parade, providing cover for the killer.
He told her he thought the Doctor was killed the night before. Alex checked his book; he had no appointments. With no sign of a break-in, they knew the man must have let the killer into the office.
Bobby saw the trail of pills leading to the closed door to his inner office. Pills and prescription pads were missing, and the cabinet was in shards. Alex asked about the spatter on the wall. It was blood, but there was something else in it. Something chunky. Since Bobby was closer, he got the honors.
His stomach had kept him up all night. He was running low on sleep again, and his immune system was starting to give. Bobby felt rotten, but this was his job. Tentatively, he took a piece of the disgusting goo off the wall. He lowered his nose and sniffed it, then announced it was potato, an 'Irish silencer.'
Alex thought it was the perfect scenario for a murder. Bobby showed her, however, that the killer had shot the surgeon in the hand first, and had kept him alive long enough for the hand to swell; then crushed the man's larynx before delivering the fatal gunshot.
They discussed the possibilities, until a man came in asking for Detective Eames. Bobby had no claim to Alex, not anymore, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he watched Detective Lyons shake her hand. He tried to distract himself with the body again.
Lyons was the ASL interpreter. Their chief witness was deaf, and though she could speak and read lips, it wasn't sufficient to rely on her skills alone when questioning her. Bobby knew some sign, but he'd told Eames clearly that he didn't know enough to act as an interpreter.
The group was in the middle of questioning Malia when the Assistant D.A., and fiancé of the deceased, arrived. She was stricken with grief and someone should have kept her from the scene.
She was interfering with the questioning. Bobby took Claudia by the arm and led her out of the room. She asked him about their findings, and she was alarmed by the state of the crime scene. She was tossing out wild theories right and left.
Bobby questioned her, and kept her out of the team's way. In spite of his weariness, he did a good job. She wasn't satisfied, of course. Her lover was dead.
Eames was chatting with Lyons by the SUV. At the end of the evening, Bobby gave them a nod and a wave, and headed down the sidewalk to the subway tunnel. His stomach was doing flips again.
He found some medicine in his cabinet and called his mother. She wasn't well tonight, physically or mentally. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hand on his stomach, and tried to find the right words to put her at ease.
"Did you get my plot?" She asked him, suddenly as sound as anyone.
"What, Ma?" he asked, stifling a burp.
"My plot, in the cemetery? Bobby?"
He closed his eyes again and rubbed his stomach harder. "Yeah, Ma. I took care of it."
"Thank you, Bobby."
He ended the call with an 'I love you' and laid down on his bed. The medicine was finally starting to kick in. Bobby closed his eyes. The illness allowed him to get some sleep.
Ross came in on the phone with DA Branch. He waved Goren and Eames into his office and announced that the DA's office would be working closely with them on this one.
The patient list was a bust, but Eames got a text that one of Mallory's prescription forms was used to get drugs at a Wall Street pharmacy. She and Bobby hurried out of the office.
He was a lot better than yesterday, but Bobby was still tired. He leaned his head against the headrest as she drove them uptown.
"So," she said, "You okay?"
Her concern irritated him, especially after all this time. "Sure. Why shouldn't I be?"
His sarcastic tone made her frown. "You don't look so good, Bobby. But fine, whatever. I guess I'm not allowed to care."
He regretted it, but he couldn't bring himself to reach out to her. Bobby made a sour face and looked out his window. "I… I'm just… fighting off something, I guess," he finally told her. "Sorry."
"You're sick?"
"It was worse yesterday. I'm okay."
She gave him another glance and decided to drop it.
An hour later they had Jared in interrogation. He tried to lie, but the detectives easily caught him in it. Bobby showed him the crime scene photo of the victim, and Jared started talking.
After sunset, Eames was in the diner reading a tabloid. She knew Bobby was on his way. He had to change and check in on his Mom before they could set the snare. She sat long enough to find out who their target was. She sent Bobby a text with the description, both of the man and of the table he occupied.
She heard his heavy footsteps, and then heard Bobby's voice. Alex turned far enough to see him with her peripheral vision. They had more backup outside, but she was Bobby's first line of defense.
He managed to buy a prescription form from Antonio, and Alex moved in to make the arrest. He didn't budge. It turns out, the man was confined to a wheelchair.
He told them where he got the pads. Claudia arrived, leaping to conclusions again. Bobby set her straight on the facts, and Alex asked just the right question. It turns out Mallory was testifying against another doctor in a malpractice case.
They headed out and found the place Antonio had described. A crowd of protesters was outside the office. Deaf protesters. Bobby saw Lyons, but he walked right past the man without a hello. He heard the cheer in Lyons' voice when he greeted Alex. "I didn't know Major Case covered unlawful assembly," he said with a grin.
"Oh, we didn't know this was going on," Alex said. She might have given him a smile if the late March wind wasn't freezing the skin of her cheeks. "The Doctor they're protesting, Dr. Strauss, Mallory testified against him last Friday."
Bobby was rooting through the boxes on the steps of the building. He found one of Mallory's prescription pads, too high for Antonio to reach from his wheelchair.
They went inside and found the Dean of the college inside, trying to make peace with Dr. Strauss. She explained that the students were willing to leave if he agreed not to press charges against them. He agreed, and Bobby thanked Dean Price in sign language.
The man complained, and the detectives questioned him. He had an alibi, and one they could verify, so they left. Detective Lyons was happy to talk with Alex again when they came back outside. He shared with her what he'd gleaned from the protesting students about their attitude toward Strauss.
Bobby followed along behind them as Lyons explained that cochlear implants were more accepted nowadays than they used to be. Bobby tossed out the possibility that the killer was from the deaf community, and Lyons, while he didn't deny it, was quick to suggest that it could have been Strauss trying to frame someone in the deaf community.
Alex latched onto Lyons suggestion and climbed into the SUV. She'd picked up something in Bobby's tone, in his posture. She didn't want to witness his jealousy rearing its ugly head.
Later that day, they found out that Strauss had a permit for a Glock 9mm. It was enough to bring him in for questioning. They punched a good sized hole in his alibi, and found out since he was drunk he used a car service that night. That led them to the shooting range he'd visited for fun on the way to Atlantic City.
They recovered the Glock, which had been confiscated by the people at the range when they realized Strauss was drunk. Strauss's gun hadn't been the one used to kill Mallory.
She tried to talk to Bobby again that night, but he made excuses and bailed at the nearest Subway entrance. Alex shook her head. She understood if he wanted to be alone, but he was starting to piss her off.