Gabriel's Revenge (The Adventures of Gabriel Celtic Book 2) (12 page)

Chapter 34

August 26, 1998

The man had returned to his quarters and started getting ready for his evening meal. He was almost too excited to eat. Although having Mr. Celtic now in the mix would complicate things slightly, he had no reason to believe that it would hamper his work in any great way.

Besides, if he became too much of a hindrance, he would just need to be eliminated.

God’s work could not be trifled with.

The man sat down, bowing over his food, and then kissed the cross hanging around his neck. Picking up a tomato, he started cutting it into seven even pieces. One of the old local farmers had given him a small basket of the juicy morsels that morning, and he was looking forward to enjoying the whole basket.

He was suddenly struck by the way God worked His mysterious ways as he cut. The old farmer just happened to be the father of one of his past projects, which exemplified to him the way that carrying out his missions blessed the families that were left behind.

The son had been addicted to alcohol, and to abusing his family when drunk. Beatings of his wife and kids were common, but the abuse extended to the son’s father and mother as well. The gift of the harvest he had received this morning was a sign, as the family would have never had an abundance to give previously, nor the peace of mind to do it freely.

A smile crossed the man’s lips, as joy welled up in his chest. He quickly got up from his repast, and went over to the small table, kneeling before it and giving thanks for allowing him to perform his missions, allowing the bereaved families to prosper after their universe had been set straight. He had never been happier in his labors than at this moment.

“The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away,” he finished in exclamation. He was a warrior for God, and his cause was just!

Chapter 35

August 26, 1998

Entering the morgue, I headed immediately for the coffee pot, going through cupboards until I finally found a cup. Washing it out, I heard the creak of the swinging doors behind me.

“Well, if it ain’t that scroungy looking detective.”

A smile involuntarily formed on my lips. “I’ll get to it you old fool,” I bantered back. “A hair cut is the farthest thing from my mind right now though.”

I walked over and shook hands with my old friend. “You find anything for me?”

“Yep,” he said as he turned, letting the door flop closed behind him in answer. I smiled again, shaking my head as I pushed through to follow the cantankerous coroner into his lair.

Taking the glasses perched on his brow off and pointing with them, he indicated the file lying on the table.

“Read through those and then I’ll show you on the body what I found.”

I went over to the file and started skimming over it. The first thing that popped out at me was the highlighted word
‘Insulin’
.

“Was he diabetic?” I called over to Doc.

“Nope, he used to be a very healthy man, nothing chronic indicated anywhere. I got his family Dr. sending over his files later, but the nurse said he hadn’t even been to the office in years.”

Going back to the file, I read on, not understanding most of what I read, but intrigued by indications Doc Elliot had added to the body image diagram.

“What do the little spots mean on your drawing Doc?”

“Come on over and I’ll show you.”

Setting down my coffee, I went over to the exam table and stood where he indicated.

Reaching across the body toward my side of the table, he grabbed the left shoulder.

“Help me roll him up toward me.”

I put on gloves, put my hands on each side of his and pushed.

“Now, look at his shoulder blade under there.”

I moved the spring-loaded examination light down to eliminate the shadows under the body. I could find nothing for a moment, but finally saw it, a small burn mark.

“Am I looking at a Joule burn?” I asked, but pretty sure of it.

“Yep, there is another one on his other shoulder blade, and one on his buttocks.”

Moving his glasses up on his brow once more, he seemed to be waiting for me to get the punch line. It didn’t take long.

“The one on his ass I would expect, but the shoulder blades…he was already laying down when the current started?”

“Yep, and who works on electric on their back?”

“So, he was disabled before that, the Insulin?”

“You win the grand prize young-un. High dosages of insulin in a healthy body would put him into a coma.”

Being right in cases such as this never gave me pleasure, but it was sure better than being wrong.

“How easy is it to get insulin doc?”

“Easy as pie…if you got a prescription, a normal person would have a harder time, although the perpetrator may be diabetic himself, or maybe he found it in the house.”

I made some notes of the findings, then thanked him as I got ready to leave, only to be stopped by the doctor’s hand on my shoulder.

“It’s my break time; grab your cup and sit with me a spell.”

I was antsy to get moving on the new information, but relented and grabbed my cup for a refill.

We spent the next half hour in the outer office, catching up. It was actually pretty nice to sit down and talk with my old friend, something I hadn’t done in years. I’m sure that the invitation was partly a psychological inquiry as to my mental health by doc, but I guess I didn’t seem suicidal; so he let me go with a handshake and a wink at the end of the break.

“Gotta get back to work,” he said as he stood, taking his cup to the sink. Turning back to me, “You be careful out there Gabriel; this one seems different, ruthless.”

I nodded my acknowledgement as he turned to get back to his bodies.

Old friends, I thought; I had few enough of those left these days. I shook off my revere, and exited the building.

Upon stepping outside, I pulled out my cell, dialing the number I had written down yesterday.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Johnstone, this is Gabriel Celtic; we met yesterday. I was wondering if this was a good time to come over; I have a few questions for you if you don’t mind.”

Chapter 36

August 26, 1998

I pulled up outside the now normal looking house, the police cars gone and the crime scene tape removed. Too bad it wouldn’t stay that way for long. After hearing the results of the autopsy, Allen had given me an hour to get this done. He was sending in the forensic guys again to go over the entire house with a fine-toothed comb now that we knew it was a murder.

Walking up to the door, I was apprehensive. Bothering the families of the dead for information is not an enjoyable duty at anytime, but I had now been assigned the task of letting Mrs. Johnstone know that her husband had not only been murdered, but that we would be taking her house over again. I was not sure if I should hold back that information for last, or blurt it out in the beginning. Knocking on the door, I immediately heard footsteps behind the door. Hearing the lock tumble, the door swung open to an older version of the wife, the little girl clinging to her leg as she stood there.

“Yes?” she said questionably, you could tell she wasn’t sure why I was there.

“Gabriel Celtic… investigator… I called before?”

“Oh yes, I had already forgotten. Please come in. As you can imagine, we are quite scatterbrained around here this morning.” A crooked half smile twisted her face; so you weren’t sure if she was undecided on something or had eaten a lemon.

“Janie is getting dressed; she will be with you in a moment. I’m sorry; can I get you anything, coffee?”

I told her that would be great, if it wasn’t any trouble. She shook her head, saying “No trouble at all,” as she walked out of the room; the little girl, Lexy, following closely behind.

I stood in the entry waiting on Mrs. Johnstone, looking around at the neatly decorated room. There were pictures on all of the walls, views of country life and other old timey scenes. Rusted horse-drawn implements surrounded by tall grass and an old barn in the background dominated a couple of them. An Amish looking buggy in another was seen from behind as it made its way down an old dirt road.

On the small wall beside me, there was a picture of Jesus, with some kind of Latin written above his head within his halo. Below that a crucifix, that Jesus looking down upon a small table with multiple candles in red jars, all of them lit.

Looking back up, I spied Mrs. Johnstone entering the room, wearing a trim black dress, her eyes puffy from crying.

“Mr. Celtic, please come in.”

She led me to a pair of high-backed upholstered chairs, indicating I could take the left one. Sitting down on the right, she folded her hands on her lap, a previously unnoticed handkerchief held between them.

“Janie, I’m really sorry to have to bother you today, and I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Taking the handkerchief up, she daintily dabbed at one of her eyes before responding, “Thank you Mr. Celtic.”

I had removed my notebook from my pocket, opening it up to the list of questions I had written down for her.

‘Ok, you had mentioned to the officers that you had been away on a retreat, is that correct?”

“Yes, a family retreat sponsored by my church. It was in the mountains in Tennessee; it was very relaxing, pretty…” Her voice tailed off, more sadness.

“Why, if you don’t mind me asking, didn’t your husband go with you?”

Sighing, “He was supposed to, but we had a big fight Wednesday before I left, and he refused to go.”

She was welling up now, and I gave her a few moments to collect herself.

“I’m sorry Mr. Celtic, but when I think back to that day…those last words to him…”

Her lip was trembling, and I asked if I could get her some water or something. She nodded yes, but her mom appeared just then with my coffee.

“I’ll get it for her… you ok dear?”

Janie nodded yes, composing herself with some small amount of difficulty. I sipped on my coffee as I waited until her water arrived and she had taken a couple of swallows.

Setting down her glass with a sigh, she said, “Please continue Mr. Celtic.”

“I really have only one more question; does anyone in the house use insulin?”

A strange look crossed her face. “Yes, I’m a Type 1 diabetic…why?”

Here it comes.

“Mrs. Johnstone, Janie, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but it appears that your husband may have been… murdered.”

The tears flowed unrestrained then.

“What are you talking about; why would anyone want to kill my husband?”

“We haven’t found a reason yet, but it appears that someone injected insulin into his bloodstream, putting him into a coma. It would appear that the electrocution was staged, after he was unconscious.”

More tears, whimpering, she was barely holding it together now.

“Please, Mrs. Johnstone, would you have had some insulin here at the house while you were gone; could there be any missing?”

I felt like I was six inches tall as she moved from disbelief to anger. She nonetheless held it unto herself as she stood up and stalked off to another part of the house. I wasn’t sure if she was checking or had just left; so I sat back and sipped more coffee while I awaited the outcome.

I heard her footsteps on the hardwood hallway before she appeared again, plopping down on the chair. She was staring down at her hands as she slowly twirled her wedding band with the other hand, thinking, quiet.

“There is a vial missing,” she said quietly.

She looked up determinedly, “Who killed my Bill?”

“As I said, we are working on it; we don’t know yet.”

She looked scared, her eyes darting for answers, “Are we in danger?”

Thinking through how much to tell her, I decided that easing her mind on this issue would be the least I could do. Leaning forward, I continued in a low voice.

“Please keep this to yourself, but your husband is not the only one; we believe he is only a one of a string of mysterious murders.”

Shock and fear were building on her face; so I quickly continued.

“The only reason I’m telling you this, Janie, is that the victims seemed to be picked specifically; we have had no instances where family members of the other victims have been hurt, or even threatened. Whoever is doing this, for whatever reason they are doing this, it seems they only target a particular person, and never look back once the deed is done. I feel certain you are safe.”

Sadness was there, but relief was also.

“We will need to bring in a forensic team again, to thoroughly go over the house now. I’m sorry, but I have to ask you to leave for awhile; they will be here any moment.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Celtic, but this has all been too much; I need to be with my daughter. Can you see yourself out?”

Before I could acknowledge her request, she jumped out of the chair and left the room. I set the cup down on the saucer, putting my notebook away as I stood. Walking across the room and reaching for the door, my eyes locked on those in the picture beside me. I stood there for several moments, unable to move as we stared into each other’s face.

The kind eyes looking back at me, seemed to be trying to tell me something, imploring me to…what?

A shiver went down my spine, as I was finally able to break my gaze from the painting. Turning quickly, I walked out the door; the warm day seemed not near warm enough to overcome the chill that now penetrated my being.