Tangled Page 4

CHAPTER FOUR

  Ben’s eyes shot open and he blinked a few times until his

  focus returned. The haze from his painkillers was lifting

  and his head was no longer suffering at the hands of his

  brain bleeder. He had barely made it home from the

  Station House earlier, when the full effect of the drugs

  kicked in. It had taken all the strength he had left to make

  it from his car to he lounge, before passing out. Although

  he felt refreshed, he did feel somewhat more energised.

  Or at least he felt more capable of getting on with the day

  and more importantly, his job.

  In one swift movement, he threw his legs over the edge of

  the lounge and planted them firmly on the floor. With

  both arms raised above his head, he stretched, rose to

  his feet and stumbled into the kitchen. After setting the

  kettle to boil, he searched for his notebook to review his

  notes once more. Ben pulled his notebook from his coat

  pocket and headed into his office. He flipped through his

  book and studied the copies of the business cards found

  near Tessa’s body. Her murder was a giant puzzle and Ben

  was no wiser now than he was three weeks ago when

  Tessa was discovered.

  The kettle whistled away, boiling water spitting from the

  mouth of its spout. Ben left his notes and walked back

  into the kitchen. He carefully apportioned just the right

  amount of coffee and sugar into his favourite coffee mug

  before adding the milk and finally the water. For most

  people, a cuppa was just a cuppa, but not for Ben. His

  coffee was a simple pleasure and if it wasn’t made

  according to his fastidious directions, it no longer held

  any enjoyment for him. The fact that he was about to enter

  the worst coffee house in Showsdale, only made Ben even

  more determined to enjoy the brew he was now

  preparing. He stirred the mixture briskly and inhaled the

  aroma of the double roasted blend, before indulging in

  the first swallow.

  "Aaahh," he sighed aloud.

  With his coffee still firmly in one hand, he strode into his

  office and collected his notebook and pen before heading

  to his bedroom to change his clothes. He sipped his

  coffee slowly and then opened his robe doors. Ben chose

  a suede jacket, a smart button up polo shirt and pair of

  neatly pressed, box pleated slacks. Comfortable that his

  dress was both official and reasonably casual all in one,

  he gulped down the last of his coffee. He sat the empty

  mug on top of his chest of drawers and made his way to

  the bathroom. Ben splashed some water on his face,

  brushed his teeth and freshened his breath. He combed

  his hair and then slapped on a dash of cologne. The

  coolness of the cologne stung his skin, causing him to

  wince. Confidant that he was ready to tackle the job ahead

  of him, he walked back into his bedroom and began

  dressing for his impromptu meeting with the Wellness

  Clinic.

  Ben glanced at the red neon digits of his bedside clock,

  4.45pm. He pulled on his suede jacket, tucked his

  notebook and pen into the front inside pocket. From the

  dressing table, he stuffed a couple of sealed painkillers

  into his other pocket. Snatching his empty mug from the

  top of the chest of drawers, he then headed back to the

  kitchen.

  After carefully rinsing out his coffee cup, Ben then grabbed

  his keys from the key holder on the kitchen wall, set his

  alarm and left the apartment. As he walked out the front

  door, he secured the deadbolt and headed to the garage.

  Security was of great importance to Ben, he could never

  be certain that some former crim he helped put away

  wouldn’t come after him for revenge or any number of

  other reasons.

  Once behind the wheel of his baby blue 57 Chevy, Ben

  drew in a deep breath and allowed the scent of the leather

  upholstery to fill his senses.

  "Aaahh," he gushed as he exhaled slowly.

  He surveyed the immaculate interior of his pride and joy

  with vanity and gratification before turning the key in the

  ignition. The Chevy’s motor sprung to life and purred like

  a satisfied kitten. Content that he had indulged in his

  Chevy’s pleasures long enough, he backed down the

  driveway. He scanned for traffic, and then indicated his

  intent to pull out, before setting off down the road in the

  direction of Shelby’s Coffee House.

  He made a left on Bligh Street and accelerated a little

  before settling into an easy cruising mode for the next

  twenty minutes. A river of dazzling neon signs soon

  shone on either side of him. Among them, Ben spied the

  rather mundane advertisement for Shelby’s Coffee House.

  He found the first available car park, got out of his car and

  headed for Shelby’s. Ben pushed open the single glass

  door and stepped inside. Instantly, his senses were

  tantalised with the aroma of fresh coffee beans and a less

  familiar scent he figured could be cinnamon.

  Shelby’s looked like a lower class coffee shop. Its tables

  were covered with cheap plastic backed cloths instead of

  the usual cotton blend found in most places he had

  visited down town. Instead of fresh carnations in china

  vases in the centre of each table, there were tacky fake

  roses in fog stained, mock crystal flutes.

  Browsing around further, he found the atmosphere to be

  pleasant enough and the chubby, young bru-nette behind

  the coffee grinder shot him a broad, welcoming smile.

  Ben approached the counter and took a seat directly in

  front of her.

  "Can I get you something, love?" she asked, her smile

  broadening.

  Ben looked up and down the counter, his eyes falling on a

  fully stocked cake platter.

  "Is that apple and rhubarb?" he asked, pointing to the

  platter.

  "Sure is, darl. Best in town too," she answered.

  "I’ll have a slice of that and a white coffee with one and a

  half sugars thanks," Ben in-structed her. His taste buds

  were screaming at him for having ordered coffee. They

  could still taste the chunks from the last cup of Shelby’s

  coffee Ben had subjected them to, a year ago.

  "Comin’ right up," she replied.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet and

  I.D. He then turned his attentions back to the brunette

  and asked, "The Manager about?"

  "I certainly am, what can I help you with?" she asked still

  busy gathering his pie and coffee. When she placed his

  order in front of him, he opened his wallet and flashed his

  credentials at her.

  "I’m Detective Ben Payne," he said. "I just have a couple

  of routine questions for you. It won’t take long."

  "Bout what?" the brunette asked, looking rather confused.

  "First off, what’s your name? Shelby?"

  With a girlish giggle she replied, "Oh no honey, I’m

  Joanna Kent. Shelby was the previous owner." She paused

  for a moment then contin-ued, "I o
nly took over a month

  ago and I figure, why go to all the expense of changin’ the

  name here? Things are fine as they are."

  "I understand," confirmed Ben. "Do you still accept these

  buy one get one free cards?" he asked pulling the copy of

  the redemption card from his notebook.

  "Sure do," she said. "You wanna redeem it now?"

  "Oh no, no, no." Ben pulled the card back from her reach.

  "I was just curious, is there any way of knowing who owns

  this card or when they acquired it?"

  Joanna eyed him suspiciously, still uncertain if he was

  aiming for a freebie or if he had a legitimate reason for

  asking what she considered to be an unanswerable

  question.

  "Well, all I can tell you is that we don’t ask for personal

  details when we hand them out," she said as she studied

  the card carefully. "Though I can tell you this much…"

  Ben’s eyes lit up, hoping his break was coming through.

  "That card you have there only came in the Friday after I

  took over."

  "How can you be sure of that?" Ben asked.

  "Well I had new ones printed up with a blue border, see.

  They used to be black." Joanna handed him an old

  redemption card. "The delivery guy only dropped them to

  me on the afternoon of the seventeenth, I’d been fresh

  out of cards for a week before then. Come to think of it, I

  was fresh out of everything when I took over this place."

  She rolled her eyes back in her head and placed her hands

  on her hips.

  "So you’re saying that this card would only have been

  given out on Friday the seven-teenth at the earliest?" he

  asked her.

  "You got it," she answered.

  "Were you working that Friday?" he asked.

  "Honey, I’m always working… I can’t afford to hire anyone

  else."

  Ben shifted on his seat anxiously, his hopes beginning to

  build a little. Pulling a photo of Tessa Hunt from his

  notebook he showed it to Joanna.

  "Do you recognise or recall serving this woman on that

  particular Friday or Friday night?"

  After perusing the picture carefully, Joanna smiled softly

  and said, "Sure, she was a sweetheart… such lovely

  manners and she left me a generous tip too."

  "Was she with anyone? What time did she leave?" Ben

  fired off another round of questions.

  "What is this about, exactly?" Joanna asked, looking Ben

  directly in the eye. Her nerves beginning to show.

  "Unfortunately, Joanna, this woman was found murdered.

  Your redemption card was found in her purse," he

  informed her rather abruptly. "Right now, I’m just

  following every lead available, no matter how insignificant

  it may seem."

  Joanna’s hands flew up to her face and her eyes closed

  momentarily. Ben allowed her to gather her thoughts

  before he resumed his questioning.

  "Is there anything you can tell me that may be relevant,

  Joanna?"

  "I didn’t see her with anyone, she got up once or twice to

  use the payphone…" Joanna reached for a fresh cup to

  make herself a coffee.

  "She seemed like she was waiting for whomever it was

  she rang, but after half an hour or so she left… alone."

  "What time was this?"

  "About 7.30, I close at 8 and she was the only customer I

  had left."

  Ben pulled his business card out of his wallet and handed

  it to Joanna, "If you remem-ber anything, no matter how

  trivial you think it may be, give me a call."

  "I certainly will," replied Joanna, taking his card from him.

  Placing ten dollars plus a tip on the counter, Ben took a

  bite of his pie before stand-ing up. "Delicious," he cooed

  to Joanna as he stuffed his wallet and notebook back into

  his pockets and left Shelby’s.

  Ben’s Chevy sailed along Link Avenue and then made a

  quick right into Fort Street. He circled the round a bout

  before entering a parking bay directly in front of the

  Wellness Clinic. He shut down the engine, got out of his

  car and stood motionless in front of the building for a few

  minutes. The sheer optical brilliance of it struck him first;

  there were two marble columns either side of the four

  extra-large, glass doors. 'Your Right To Choose Wellness

  Clinic' was deeply etched into a brass plaque bolted

  tightly onto the face of one of the marble columns. It

  shone brazenly as his eyes fell upon it. Ben hadn’t been

  sure what to expect, but

  somehow the grandiose nature of the building alone, was

  not it.

  Unable to see anyone through the glass doors, Ben

  turned to his right. On the wall, he noticed a digital

  intercom system, he ap-proached it confidently and

  pushed a large, black button marked 'Page'.

  "Hello," a voice crackled through the intercom.

  "This is Detective Ben Payne, I’d like to speak to whoever

  is in charge of your clinic please," he replied in the most

  officially domi-nating tone he could muster.

  "I’m sorry Detective, the clinic is closed for the day. Would

  you like to make an ap-pointment for during the week?"

  she asked, sounding very much like he was inconvenienc-

  ing her in some way.

  "Who am I speaking with?" grumbled Ben, more than a

  little annoyed that she was fobbing him off.

  "My name is Marla Andrews, I’m sorry Detective but Dr.

  Sugars has finished for the day. I’d be happy to…"

  Ben cut her short and spat firmly at her, "Listen, Marla, I

  am investigating a very serious police matter and it is

  important that I speak with this Dr. Sugars immediately. If

  you wish to have Detectives parading all over your waiting

  room tomorrow, scaring your patients…"

  "Just one moment please, eerr, what did you say your

  name was again?" she asked.

  Ben was certain the woman was trying to make life difficult

  for him. "Detective Ben Payne!"

  The intercom fell silent, Ben waited to see what was going

  to happen next.

  "The Dr will see you, Detective." Her voice crackled over the

  line.

  "Thank you, Marla," he sighed and stepped back from the

  intercom, then waited in front of the closest set of glass

  doors. A few minutes later a tall, thin woman with

  shoulder length, jet-black hair appeared. She thumbed

  through a large set of keys and unlocked the door. With a

  wave of her hand, she beckoned him to come through.

  Once inside, Ben was again struck with the stature of the

  building. Its marble floors, the leather lounge chairs in

  the exquisitely decorated waiting room, beautifully framed

  oil paintings, even the magazine table, all looked

  expensive.

  "This wellness thing must pay well, eh?" asked Ben.

  "Must it?" replied Marla, her piercing green eyes burning

  into him. Ben glanced at her briefly, wondering if his

  innocent comment had somehow offended her or

  whether she was simply difficult with every person she

  came in contact with.

&nbs
p; "It was meant as a compliment, nothing more," Ben made

  an attempt to smooth over their rough beginning. "My

  Doctor’s office isn’t anywhere near this impressive."

  "Well," Marla started, as she looked him over, "we deal

  with a slightly different clientele here."

  Unsure if she was degrading him on purpose, Ben sucked

  air back through his teeth and decided it was best to

  ignore her remark. "Is Dr. Sugars ready for me now?" he

  asked, as he tried to regain control of the situation. "I’d

  like to make this as brief and painless as possible so we

  can all get on with our evening."

  Marla led him silently down a corridor and opened a door

  at the end. She motioned to Ben to take a seat in the

  extra large easy chair in front of a beautifully crafted oak

  desk.

  "Wait here, please. I’ll let Dr. Sugars know you’re ready,"

  said Marla as she turned and left the room.

  Ben simply couldn’t under-stand her. She seemed to have

  a set on him and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out

  why. Maybe his frayed lack of patience had shown more

  than he had realised when they spoke over the intercom.

  Perhaps he had offended her and now she was returning

  the favour. Whatever the case, Ben made a mental note to

  find out more about the woman. There was something

  about her he didn’t quite feel at ease with.

  He made himself comfortable in the royal blue, suede

  easy chair and reached into his pocket, retrieving his

  notebook and pen. Ben’s eyes surveyed the room and

  narrowed as he began to focus on Dr. Sugars’ PHD and

  numer-ous awards hanging on the pale blue walls of her

  office. On her desk sat two small, silver framed photos. A

  rather handsome, distinguished man smiled up from the

  first frame and in the other was a teenage girl who looked

  familiar to Ben. Unable to put his finger on where he had

  seen the girl, he leaned closer for a better look when the

  office door opened.

  "Detective Payne?" an attractive middle-aged woman

  who Ben presumed was Dr. Sugars, entered the room.

  "In the flesh," he lightly replied.

  "Rose-Marie Sugars… please call me Rose," she

  introduced herself warmly. "I understand you need to

  speak to me regarding a Police matter. How can I help

  you, Detective?"

  Impressed with her courteous manner and pleasant

  disposition, Ben flashed her a comforting smile. She was

  the complete opposite to her secretary and he

  appreciated the respect she showed him.

  "Please call me Ben," he said.

  Nodding in agreement, Rose spoke again, "How is it you

  believe I can be of assistance, Ben?"

  He produced the small photo of Tessa Hunt, handed it to

  her and said, "Do you recall this woman. Is she or was she

  a client of yours?"

  She studied the picture carefully before replying, "Why yes,

  as a matter of fact I con-sulted with her just last month."

  "Consulted with her? What exactly do you specialise in

  here, Rose?"

  "I can’t give you the specifics of Tessa’s consultation, but I

  can tell you what we practice here… if you think it would be

  of benefit?"

  "I’d appreciate that," Ben encouraged her.

  "We are a licensed termination clinic," she began. "We

  discuss unwanted or unplanned pregnancies and offer

  not only termination, but other alternatives to women in

  such predica-ments." She stared at him. "No judgment,

  Ben?" she asked awkwardly. "It’s been my experience that

  most people show signs of disapproval and disgust when

  they first realise that my wellness clinic is not the health

  resort or beauty spa they had mistaken it to be." Rose sat

  back and looked at him a little longer.

  "Not at all Rose, this world is full of personal choices and

  termination is just that, personal choice."

  "I’m relieved you are so open minded. Not many are when

  it comes to my line of work." She fell silent for a moment

  before continuing, "I have learned to live with the criticism,

  the derogatory remarks, abusive letters and calls, though.

  I understood that all came with the job when I entered

  this field."

  Ben’s eyebrows rose, "You get much hate mail?

  "Oh yes, and plenty of calls to follow it up. But tell me Ben,

  why are you interested in Tessa?"

  Ben stared at her for a moment before it dawned on him

  that she had absolutely no idea Tessa was dead. With all

  the publicity surround-ing her murder over the last couple

  of weeks, he thought it a bit odd.

  "So you haven’t heard?" he asked.

  "Heard what? Has Tessa had an accident, is that what this

  is all about?" she replied, her concern beginning to

  present itself.

  Ben lowered his voice to a soft whisper, "I am sorry to tell

  you that she was murdered sometime around the

  evening of Friday the seventeenth. Your card was found in

  her purse," he told her empathetically. "I’m just following

  leads right now, however with what you have just told me,

  there are elements of her murder that may indicate her

  pregnancy could have been a factor in her death."

  "Dear God, no," cried Rose. She slumped back in her chair,

  rubbed her eyes and sighed deeply. Ben gave her a

  minute to digest the news.

  "Was she scheduled for a termination?" he pressed her

  gently.

  "Yes, but she phoned me the Friday, a couple of days after

  her initial consultation and said that she wanted to

  postpone." She dabbed her eyes with a tissue and carried

  on, "She said that she wanted to reconsider her options

  and come back in the following week, before she followed

  through with her termination."

  "Do you remember what time she called you?"

  Rose checked her date book. "I remember I left late the

  night of the seventeenth, I guess she called around

  seven-ish." She continued brows-ing her book. "Yes, here

  it is… Friday the seventeenth. I left at roughly seven thirty

  that evening." She held out her book for Ben to view,

  before placing it back down on her desk.

  Ben nodded and jotted the entry down in his notebook.

  "Her pregnancy… Did she tell you why she was

  considering termination? Was it just bad timing or did

  she simply not want a baby right now? What about the

  Father, did she say who he was?"

  Rose pulled a manila folder from the tall filing cabinet

  behind her chair and perused her notes. "All she told me

  was that keeping the baby would be disastrous because

  the Father was a married man. There was no mention of

  his name though."

  "Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything at all?"

  He asked. "It may be impor-tant, Rose."

  "Not that I can think of Detective, but I will call you if any

  other information comes to light. Do you have a card?"

  Ben handed her a card. He couldn’t shake the feeling that

  Rose was trying to end their conversation prematurely.

 
; Ben was unsure whether she had been dodging his

  bullets on purpose or if the sheer weight of their

  discussion had been too much for her and she simply

  needed time to absorb all that had been said. Either way,

  he knew he would be revisiting Rose… and sooner rather

  than later.

  As he walked toward the door, he turned back to her.

  "Your receptionist?"

  "Marla? Yes, what about her?" she replied.

  "Has she been here long?"

  "She’s been with me from the start," she stated flatly. "Is

  there something wrong?"

  "Oh no, just one of those questions I ask, more for my

  own curiosity. Nothing to do with the case." He assured

  her. "She does seem a little icy and tightly wound

  though…"

  "Yes," Rose cut him off. "Marla has had some rather

  difficult news to digest of late. I’ll be sure to have a word

  with her about being more courteous Detective."

  Ben couldn’t be sure, but he felt that Rose acted quite

  defensive in regards to Marla. "Thank you for your time,

  Rose, I appreciate it."

  "You are more than welcome, Ben. Don’t hesitate to call

  me again should you need to."

  Smiling kindly at her, he opened the door, "I’ll see myself

  out."

  Rose flashed him an uncomfortable smile and nodded.

  Passing by Marla’s desk on the way out, he shot her the

  most dazzling smile he could muster and said, "Night,

  Marla."

  She glared at him and replied, "Good-night, Detective."

  Ben crawled into his car and stared at the wellness clinic

  for a while before pulling his phone out and dialling Jay.

  "Jayy, it’s me… we still on for 9?"

  "Surely are," answered Jay. "I got lots to tell ya Ben."

  Ben glanced at the clinic again and saw Marla and Rose

  leaving. He followed them with his eyes. They both exited

  the building and walked over to a silver volkswagon

  convertible. To Ben’s surprise the two of them got in and

  drove off together, Rose behind the wheel.

  "Strange," he said, forgetting he was on the phone to

  Jay.

  "What’s strange?" Jay asked.

  "Oh, nothing," stated Ben, suddenly aware of Jay again.

  "I’ll see you at Bluey’s."

  He disconnected the call.