Mind Switch (19 page)

Fred said, “I need the names and divisions of the two who submitted the grievances. I also need a list of all the subordinates who worked for each of the deceased division heads, and I need names on all the photographs of your employees.”

The phone rang. Schultz listened and said, “Are you sure? OK, thanks.” Schultz turned toward Fred, “That was personnel; Mr. Slivers never applied for employment at our firm. Our records go back to the time our company started in business.”

Fred thanked Schultz for his cooperation. “Oh, one more question before I leave. I see your home is right on the Sarasota Bay. What type of boat do you own?”

“Not much of a boat, I’m afraid, just a small Bass boat. I’ve had it since I lived up north.

As Fred opened the door to leave, Schultz was waving a weak goodbye. Fred thought, what a change in this man in just a few days. All the spirit seemed to have been drained from him.

Chapter 35

On her way to work the next day, Schultz’s receptionist stopped at the station and dropped off the employee names and photographs that Fred had requested. Fred called Carl and invited him to the station to look them over. Carl appreciated the break, since once he completed his suspect review of the photographs, he would have to continue his door to door reckless journey with Paul.

Fred called Maureen, and said he would be staying late at work and would get a sandwich on the way home. Maureen seemed concerned that Fred was putting in too many long stressful hours. She was in a great mood, and indicated that she would have dinner waiting regardless of what time he arrived home; she certainly didn’t want him eating a greasy sandwich and ruining his health, since the constant stresses of his new pressure laden promotion were probably doing enough damage already.

Fred said, “With your poor sleeping habits, I doubt if you’ll even be awake by the time I come home.”

She rebutted, “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong! I didn’t tell you but I went to a hypnotist yesterday and he has accomplished wonders. I slept better last night than I have in months.”

About eight p.m. Fred called home to indicate he was on his way. No answer. Fred assumed Maureen was in the bathroom and rather than call her again and waste time he headed for home. Traffic was light and in less than twenty minutes he pulled into his driveway. He noticed that the house was dark. That was not like Maureen, he reflected, she always preferred at least one room lit. Most likely she forgot something at the grocery store, and as was her habit, she turned off the lights when she left for the store. Her parents were very parsimonious about every small expense, and she had been nurtured the same way. The garage door was shut so he couldn’t determine if her car was gone.

He entered the front door calling out Maureen’s name. No response. He called again and this time got a response, but not one that he expected. Fred saw the blazing yellow fire leaping from the barrel of a gun just as he heard the noise of a shot being fired, instantly followed by the explosion of lead hitting the open door just in front of him. Wood splintered in all directions. He dropped to the floor hard, re-injuring his broken ribs, and taking his breath away momentarily. A second shot was fired and this one hit its mark, piercing the flesh on his right arm.

Although the house was dark, the light from the street lamp filtered through the open door, making him a perfect target. Even with as much pain as he was experiencing, he realized he had to move quickly to a darkened place in the house. He pulled out his gun and crawled out of the foyer into the living room. The shots had seemed to be coming from the dining room; two plaster walls now separated him from that region of the house, providing him with a modicum of protection.

Fred waited a moment attempting to get his breath and at the same time adjust to the shearing pain from his re-injured ribs. Where in hell was Maureen? She had not answered when he opened the door. Oh, God, had she been shot? She hadn’t answered the phone, and that was over 45 minutes ago. In the midst of the danger he was in, he still couldn’t avoid thinking of Maureen. He knew this standoff could not last much longer. He had to find out where in the house Maureen was located.

As he adjusted his body to get more comfortable, he accidentally tipped over the end table knocking off a ceramic table lamp. The fragile lamp broke into numerous pieces as it struck the oak hardwood floor. Immediately another shot was fired in the general direction of the noise of the broken lamp. Plaster splattered from the impact of the bullet.

Fred thought that was peculiar, whoever fired must have aimed his gun seeking to hit him through the dining room wall. To get to Fred the bullet had to penetrate that wall and the hall wall as well. Whoever was firing was either totally unfamiliar with the layout of the house or very inexperienced in firing a weapon. On a hunch he took the flashlight out of the coffee table drawer. He threw it hard against the foyer floor. Another shot was fired. That’s four shots, Fred counted. Now if I can get him to waste a couple of more bullets I can capture him alive. In the hands of a nervous assailant, it would not take long before the gun was empty—at least Fred hoped so. Then Fred realized for all he knew the guy had two guns, or the chamber held more than six bullets. Regardless, he couldn’t wait any longer.

He crawled silently from the end of the living room, and entered the rear part of the hall. Directly across from him was the second entry to the dining room. Taking a moment to gain his breath he sneaked into the rear of the dining room which he reasoned should put him about twelve feet from where the shooter was positioned. He had decided to turn on the dining room lights which he figured should give him a second’s advantage. The ceiling light was hung in the area of where the shots seemed to have originated. He was on the opposite side of the long room where he would have the cover of limited darkness as well as the advantage of surprise.

From a crouched position he turned on the light and riveted his attention to where the earlier shots seemed to be coming from. No one was there! He glanced around the room and then he saw it. A body was lying between the dining room and the doorway into the kitchen. It was Maureen! Apparently the assailant had exited either by the door to the garage or had gone up to the second floor during the confusion. Fred ran to the interior door to the garage. It was locked. Unless this guy is Houdini, there was no way he could have exited that way, Fred thought. He gingerly picked up Maureen and placed her next to the dining room wall which Fred hoped would provide her with some degree of protection. He moved to the opening of the stairway leading to the upper floor. From that vantage point he would spot the shooter if he tried to exit to the downstairs area.

As he tried to determine if Maureen had a pulse, she gradually started to regain consciousness. “Wh-wh—what happened,” she muttered.

Paralyzed with fear and not knowing if she had been shot, Fred asked in a shaky voice, “Are you OK?” He quickly looked for any signs of blood on her body, but only noted a large red bump on her forehead. She said, “Yes, I think so.”

Fred felt that Maureen’s life was not in danger from her injury, but she was certainly in danger while the intruder remained in the house. To insure maximum protection for her while he sought the intruder, he unlocked the door to the garage and gently pushed her into the garage. He whispered, “Stay there.” He shut and locked the door. Only then did he shift his focus to the upstairs.

Keeping as low as possible, step by step, he advanced to the upstairs hall. He decided to check out the two bedrooms, one by one, and then move to the upstairs bath, while keeping the stairs in sight to make sure any attempted retreat by the assailant was covered. He searched every part of the upstairs area; no one was there. He pulled down the steps to the attic. No one! The only thing Fred found in all of his searching was one open window in the bedroom. Fred vaguely recalled that he himself might have opened it during the night for ventilation and neglected to close it in the morning; but in the heat of emotion he could no longer remember.

He entered the bathroom and quickly put a temporary bandage over the wound in his arm. Very little blood had been lost, and it appeared as if neither his muscle, nor bone had been hit. Fortunately, he said to himself, it hit his right arm. If his left arm had been incapacitated, he wouldn’t be able to hit a building from two feet.

He realized he hadn’t seen Molly during the entire encounter. After a brief check of her favorite places, he finally found her shivering and hiding as far back in her cage as she could get. Fred picked her up, petted her and took her to the garage, placing her in Maureen’s arms. The crisis was over, at least for the present.

By the time he returned to Maureen, he had already made a decision. Fred didn’t know who was after him, or if it was in any way linked to the investigation of the Sarasota murders. But he knew he wasn’t going to take a chance on Maureen’s life.

He quickly packed Maureen’s bags, put Molly in her cage, and set the catch. After giving her two days of treats, he put Molly in the passenger side of Maureen’s car and hopped into his Miata. He in no uncertain words told Maureen to follow him in her car. He had decided to have Maureen stay with her parents for at least a few days so she would not be the accidental victim of any future attacks on him. He was still worried that the assailant might be able to trace her to her parent’s home. Whoever this person was, he was relentless. But since she had a stepfather, it would not be that easy to connect the two names. He took a circuitous route toward Arcadia; and when he could see no car lights behind them he took a sharp left and headed back in the direction of Sarasota. He entered Interstate 75 about two miles down the road. On the way he called Maureen’s parents and told them they were on the way. In a little over an hour he pulled into their driveway with Maureen right behind him.

He stayed for a short time, took an extra few minutes to put a fresh bandage on his arm, and headed back to Sarasota. He explained to Maureen’s stepfather that he would be back as soon as he could, if not to pick up Maureen at least to visit.
 

Her stepfather said, “No problem, not only will we take good care of our baby, but we will get her on the twelve day cruise we are taking to the eastern Caribbean in two days. Rest assured,” he added, “she is safe with us!”

Fred felt relaxed once Maureen was secure. He didn’t believe her life was in direct danger, but then again who knew, she could at any time accidentally get a bullet intended for him or be killed out of some type of revenge against him. After all, clear thinking was not a mass murderer’s strong point.

Chapter 36

Fred’s arm started bleeding again on the way back to Sarasota. So, for the second time in a few days he visited the Sarasota Memorial Hospital. When he took his shirt off for a medical inspection, the doctor noticed the bandages surrounding his chest. Fred explained that they were the result of cracked ribs from his bank encounter. The attending physician suggested that he spend the day in the hospital for observation.

Fred rejected the offer, but accepted additional and stronger pain pills to alleviate the intense pain he was now experiencing both day and night. Fortunately the doctor confirmed that the bullet had only gone through the fleshy part of his arm, no bones or tendons had been even touched. With a fresh bandage, a couple of stitches, and ten days’ supply of antibiotics, he was on his way.

He called the chief and said, “Chief, I have to be off for a half a day.” He then explained what had happened. As was his tendency, the chief expressed no sympathy and simply said, “OK, but get back as soon as you can. Understand, you still haven’t caught the murderer!”

Once home, Fred checked the back and front doors to determine if they had been tampered with. He could find no evidence of forced entry; but he remembered the upstairs bedroom window had been open. He recognized that all the locks on his house were of an inferior make and could easily be defeated.

Fred had a locksmith put new secure locks on all parts of the house. Fred also bought laser devices and placed one at each entrance door. The devices would activate a small interior light and loud buzzer if someone attempted to enter the house.

While the workmen were installing the new locks and security devices, he was wondering if there was a direct connection between the mass murders and the attempt on his own life. Slivers could be eliminated as a suspect since he was safely in jail, and all of his communications were being closely monitored. Slivers’ wife was not the type to seek revenge against an investigating officer. On the other hand, the murderer at the downtown theater was still on the loose; and it was definitely possible he was after Fred. Fred’s address was in the local phone book, so anybody could have located his house without difficulty. As a cop working criminal cases, Fred should have long ago taken the safeguard to get an unlisted number, but he had always felt safe in this sleepy city, so he never took the time. It’s too late now, he thought.

In the past, Fred’s success in other cases had often come when he thought outside the box. Fred tried to brainstorm to determine who else might have reason to try to kill him.

Whoever it was seemed to know his way around his house. Could it be someone that he worked with, he wondered? Although he had few good friends on the force, he didn’t think anyone disliked him enough to try to kill him. Then he thought about Paul who held absolutely no respect for him. Furthermore, the chief said that Paul was the second choice for the lieutenant’s bars. Paul knew he would most likely be selected for the lieutenant’s slot if something happened to Fred. He recalled that the only person on the force who had been at his house was in fact Paul. It happened two years ago when Paul’s car had broken down. Maureen was out of town for a week and her car was not being used. Fred brought Paul over to the house, they had a beer together. Fred showed him the house and afterwards loaned him Maureen’s car.