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    Deaths by Unnatural Causes, Life by Any Means Necessary
    Deaths by Unnatural Causes, Life by Any Means Necessary
    Deaths by Unnatural Causes, Life by Any Means Necessary
    Ebook330 pages6 hours

    Deaths by Unnatural Causes, Life by Any Means Necessary

    By B.L Wilson

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    About this ebook

    At first, chief investigator Roberta Crawford thinks the attempted murder of Karen Morris links to several other arson deaths in her precinct. Upon further investigation and interviews with Karen’s friends and coworkers, Roberta begins to suspect this case is unrelated to the other arson deaths. She thinks Karen knows who is trying to kill her. She’s certain something in Karen’s past is the key to breaking the case wide open. The only problem with her assumptions is that Karen won’t confirm them. Despite the lack of cooperation from her main witness, Roberta finds herself increasingly attracted to her and is afraid to tell her brother, Lieutenant Mark Crawford, that Karen is staying at her place. She knows he’ll decide she’s too personally involved and pass the case to other detectives in the unit. He’ll demand Karen leave the safety of her place. If Karen leaves, Roberta is afraid she’ll never discover the secrets in Karen’s past. Can Roberta get through to her witness or will Karen’s silence set off more Deaths by Unnatural Causes?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherB.L Wilson
    Release dateFeb 2, 2017
    ISBN9781370533589
    Deaths by Unnatural Causes, Life by Any Means Necessary
    Author

    B.L Wilson

    B.L. has always been in love with books and the words in them. She never thought she could create something with the words she knew. When she read ‘To Kill A Mocking Bird,’ she realized everyday experiences could be written about in a powerful, memorable way. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with that knowledge so she kept on reading.Walter Mosley’s short stories about Easy Rawlins and his friends encouraged BL to start writing in earnest. She felt she had a story to tell...maybe several of them. She’d always kept a diary of some sort, scraps of paper, pocketsize, notepads, blank backs of agency forms, or in the margins of books. It was her habit to make these little notes to herself. She thought someday she’d make them into a book.She wrote a workplace memoir based on the people she met during her 20 years as a property manager of city-owned buildings. Writing the memoir, led her to consider writing books that were not job-related. Once again, she did...producing romance novels with African American lesbians as main characters. She wrote the novels because she couldn’t find stories that matched who she wanted to read about ...over forty, African American and female.

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      Deaths by Unnatural Causes, Life by Any Means Necessary - B.L Wilson

      CHAPTER ONE … Hey I’m not dead yet

      The man grinned as he read the week-old newspaper. The article was about a fire in upper Manhattan that had killed a woman. The fire started in the bedroom of the woman’s apartment while she was sleeping. A reporter claimed that the fire was suspicious. He quoted unnamed sources in the police department who mentioned chemicals… a liquid accelerant found on the victim’s clothes, around the woman’s bed, and across the entrance to the room. It appeared that the killer wanted to keep the woman in the bedroom for some reason. The female victim died on the way to the hospital of a heart attack brought on by a massive shock to her system. The article mentioned several other fire deaths that occurred over the last six months and tried to link them together but couldn’t find a common theme besides arson. According to police sources, they had no suspects in the cases. The man folded the newspaper and slipped it under an arm. The Big Apple wasn’t so cold after all. He was about to heat it up a little.

      Roberta Crawford sighed heavily as she climbed out of the unmarked patrol car. This must be the place. What a hell of a way to start off my morning, she muttered, staring at the bright red fire trucks parked at an angle to block off the street from curious motorists. The police had cordoned off the building entrance and sidewalk with yellow tape. Several uniforms were directing car and foot traffic away from the area. She nodded to one of the beat officers guarding the building as she walked toward the main entrance.

      Hey, Miss! You can’t go inside the building. Can’t you see the tape? This is a crime scene, Honey.

      Roberta frowned. She started to respond to his chauvinistic attitude with a glib remark of her own. She decided he wasn’t worth the trouble. Instead, she flipped out her badge and flashed it under his nose. I believe this gives me a ticket to a front row seat, Officer.

      His face reddened and his lecherous expression turned into an embarrassed sigh. He tapped the brim of his hat. Sorry about that, Detective. They’re waiting for you inside the apartment.

      Roberta nodded as she hung the badge on a chain around her neck and drew closer to the building’s entrance. But you don’t look like a cop. She’d been hearing that crap for the last eleven years that it took her to move up the ranks from beat officer to detective third grade and she was sick of it. It wasn’t her fault that God blessed her with good genes.

      She sighed as she entered the building and looked around. This was a nice building, she decided. The lobby was spacious. She sniffed the air. The white tile floors and pale yellow walls smelled freshly cleaned—pine oil. There were plenty of windows throughout the lobby. That was an interesting feature of the lobby; most of the panes contained stained glass images of palm trees or abstract designs. Decorative white marble columns were scattered throughout the lobby, making it resemble someplace with plenty of sand and dry heat. She could use some sun and a little heat on such a dreary cold New York morning. She consulted her notepad and discovered the apartment she was looking for was on the third floor…3C; not that she’d have trouble finding it. All she had to do was follow the trail of cops, firefighters, and EMS techs to the apartment.

      Once inside the place, she discovered the apartment was a typical two-bedroom affair found in the older sections of Harlem that hadn’t undergone renovations. The place had high, embossed ceilings with delicate-looking swirls and twirls. The intricate ceilings were what her father would call wedding cake designs. Her father claimed tinsmiths hammered the designs into sheets of metal to make them so decorative. A carpenter installed the metal sheets in pieces, taking great care to match them so that a ceiling looked like one large solid sheet of tin. Two to three one-inch layered, delicately swirling borders around the edge of the ceilings and the inner squares added a perception of depth to each ceiling.

      The borders reminded Roberta of the borders in her Microsoft program for creating certificates, only the ceiling’s borders were far more intricate than anything Bill Gates and his company designed, she thought, looking up at the ceilings again. The floors were parquet—probably light oak—with a simple border of darker oak around the edge of each floor. She’d inherited her father’s eye for detail and his nose for unusual smells, which made her a good investigator most of the time. Unfortunately or fortunately, she’d been born with her mother’s sensitive nature for finding justice for underdogs and the downtrodden. That meant she spent plenty of time fighting un-winnable battles.

      Roberta scanned the group of officers, firefighters, and EMS techs bunched near the door, looking for a familiar face, and found one. She nodded to the primary officer on the scene. What do we have? she asked with a touch of annoyance in her voice as she stared at her partner. More important, why did you call me, Shaun? You know I asked for a day off.

      Shaun McRoy grinned, then offered her a hanky. I just wanted to see your beautiful face again, Robbie.

      Roberta issued an annoyed sigh. You’re not my type, Shaun, and you know it, so answer the damned question. What am I doing here?

      Are we talking about the philosophical question ‘why am I here in the world’ or the practical version? Shaun’s blue eyes twinkled and he grinned at her again. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to try and make Roberta laugh since he’d called her on her day off. He admired her professionalism and her work ethic. But being a sexually aware young man, he was also impressed with her legs. She had the best pair of legs on a Black woman he’d seen wearing a skirt in the squad room.

      Hell, Robbie had the best pair of legs he’d seen on any woman, white or Black, and that included his wife Nellie too. He was aware that the skirts, when she chose to wear them, weren’t for his benefit or other men in the precinct, but a man could dream, couldn’t he? She didn’t wear skirts that often. She usually wore slacks or jeans in the field, claiming they were more comfortable and far less distracting for working witnesses.

      Christ, Shaun! The police union shouldn’t have paid for your philosophy classes if this is an example of their usefulness.

      It’s April first, Robbie. Where’s your sense of humor?

      It disappeared as fast as the sleep I was supposed to be getting on my day off, Shaun.

      Shaun studied his partner’s face and held up a hand in surrender. Okay, okay. I’m sorry for waking you up on your day off. I thought you might want to see this one. Shaun inhaled deeply and then coughed from the sharp odor. You smell that, Robbie?

      Roberta frowned, uncovered her nose, and sniffed deeply, then hurriedly covered it back up. Whew! Something smells strong in here. What is it?

      I think the same guy that did the other fires was trying to do this one too, only somebody walked in on him or her. The victim is in the other room. It looks like he tried to beat her to death, then strangled her when the beating didn’t kill her quick enough. He sighed. She was a pretty woman, Robbie. He pointed to several pictures on the mantelpiece. She’s the one on the left.

      Roberta walked over to the fireplace to study the pictures. She picked one up and stared at the women in it. Shaun was right. The victim was pretty. The picture showed two good-looking Black women with backpacks on and hiking staffs in their hands, standing confidently on top of a rock formation. The women were smiling like they’d just conquered the world. It was summertime in the picture. The women were wearing sunhats, walking shorts, T-shirts, and hiking boots and socks. They looked healthy in the way people who exercised regularly did. She sighed, thinking what a shame it happened to the woman who lived here. She put the picture back on the mantel.

      Walk me through it, Shaun. Roberta followed him as he walked toward the scene of the murder. The scent of the accelerant in the air was strong enough to make her gag. She swallowed hard several times to keep the bile in her throat from rising. It seemed stronger in the bedroom they were entering than in the hallway they’d just left. She kept Shaun’s handkerchief up to her nose to filter out some of the smells.

      Shaun gave her a recitation of the facts and his theory of events as they walked to the back of the apartment. He sighed. The perp climbed up the fire escape, then reached over to the bathroom window. He broke the bathroom window, climbed in, and surprised her in the bedroom. The super said the prior tenant had removed the bathroom window guard. The landlord was supposed to install another one, but he hadn’t gotten around to it. The bedroom’s back this way. He tapped her shoulder. Watch out for the blood droppings there. He pointed to the dark red drops that were making a trail into the bedroom. We think the perp cut his hand on the glass. Maybe we’ll get lucky with VCAP or COTIS and he’ll be in there.

      Roberta sighed as she stepped over the blood trail. Don’t hold your breath, Shaun. I spoke with the guys on the night shift. The lieutenant assigned them the four other cases with similar MOs. Nothing turned up on them either. I’ll bet this one is the same thing.

      My, aren’t we helpful this morning…a regular little ray of sunlight. Shaun’s eyes twinkled as he studied his partner’s gloomy face. Oh, quit being pissed I woke you on your day off, Robbie, and help me with this case. Think of all the overtime you’ll be making. I bet you weren’t doing anything anyway. His eyes danced. He couldn’t hide his smile. He knew she didn’t appreciate coming into work on a day off but then who did?

      Roberta stopped walking to glare at the back of Shaun’s head. If we were alone, I’d put you in a headlock, Shaun, and keep squeezing your neck until your head popped off. Better yet, I’d just sic my brothers on you. They’d keep you busy dodging bad assignments.

      Shaun stopped in his tracks and turned around to study his partner. You wouldn’t do that to a fellow officer, would you? He knew about Roberta’s two older brothers. One was a sergeant in East Harlem and the other brother was a lieutenant. They were definitely bad asses. Her brothers were also the cops you wanted in your corner when things got tough and you needed backup. God help you if you were a screw up or you were lazy. The Crawford brothers gave you one time to make a mistake. Everybody was entitled to one error, but don’t let it happen again. If you were a dirty cop, you wished…no, you prayed that Internal Affairs found you before they did.

      Roberta grinned when she saw the look of fear in Shaun’s eyes. Well, not fear; more like suspicion entered his eyes. You know, Shaun, one of the nice things about being a kid sister is that you can get your big brothers to help you with special situations. I might tell them or I might not. I haven’t decided yet. You may want to keep those remarks about my personal life to a minimum.

      Shaun wiggled his eyebrows and then winked at Roberta. Oh, you fight dirty, Baby. I like that in a woman!

      Okay, Mr. Big Stuff, just show me the victim. Roberta inhaled deeply and coughed from the strong odor of fuel in the air. She hated this part of the job. Examining the dead for clues about who murdered them was hard, but this one would even more difficult because the woman in the photograph was a contemporary. She could easily imagine meeting her in a movie theater or a museum; even a singles bar if she was on the prowl. The woman didn’t give off gay vibes, but Roberta noticed a rainbow necklace hanging between generous breasts and a rainbow pin on the T-shirt of the other woman in the photo Shaun had handed to her.

      She’s in there. Shaun pointed a thumb at the first door on the left. I’m gonna talk with the first officer on the scene, Robbie. Holler if you need me for anything. Shaun looked at her and grinned. Or you can just put your lips together and blow. You know how to blow, don’t you?

      Christ, Shaun! You’re not Humphrey Bogart and I’m not Lauren Bacall, so just knock it off. Roberta frowned. Shaun hadn’t told her the woman’s name. She walked over to the victim and glanced down at her body. She squatted down to peer at the woman closely. For a moment, she thought the woman’s chest rose. She rubbed her eyes. She was just tired and her eyes were playing tricks on her again.

      This was the fifth case like this. The battered-looking woman was dead. EMS techs were outside, waiting for the medical examiner to arrive. She reached over to examine the woman’s hands and nails. They needed to be bagged and tagged for fingerprints and whatever else they might yield for clues. She’d have to remember to tell the lab techs to do it. They were still warm, so the perp must have left recently. She pressed on the woman’s neck for a pulse just to be sure.

      The woman groaned. Her eyes suddenly fluttered open.

      For a moment, Roberta was shocked when she stared into a large, bloodshot right eye filled with pain. The woman’s left eye was swollen shut so that only a paper-thin slice of that eye was visible. She watched the dead woman frown, then struggle to sit up. Once she got over the shock of seeing the dead woman alive, Roberta put a supporting arm around the woman’s shoulders and gently eased her back down on the floor. She tried not to cause more damage than the savage beating had done. Take it easy, Miss. Lie back down. You’ve been hurt. I’m Detective Roberta Crawford. I’m here to help you.

      The woman looked confused. Roberta wasn’t sure she understood what she’d just said to her. She patted the woman’s left hand to reassure her. Her hand was the only place that didn’t appear bruised. I’m going to get you some medical assistance, Miss. I’ll be back in a sec.

      The woman lurched forward to grab Roberta’s hand with surprising speed and strength. No! she cried out weakly with an air of desperation. Don’t go. Please stay with me. I’m afraid he might come back. She closed her eyes and groaned. God, I’ve said too much.

      Roberta thought the woman had passed out and tried to rise to summon help.

      The woman’s hand tugged on Roberta’s wrist, then squeezed hard. Please don’t leave me. The woman’s eye opened again and she stared into Roberta’s eyes. Please, she begged.

      Roberta stared into one luminous chocolate-brown eye set in a toffee complexion, framed by a thick mane of kinky dark brown hair. You need a doctor, Miss. Let me go for help. She studied the woman and noticed her shivering shoulders. You’re cold. She took off her raincoat and placed it over the woman’s chest and belly. She flipped out her cell phone and dialed with her thumb while her other hand soothed the woman’s left hand. Get in here, Shaun. Our victim’s alive, she remarked in a low, anxious tone.

      You’re kidding, right, Robbie? This is an April fool’s joke, isn’t it?

      Get the hell in here before I report you! Bring EMS in here too or we’ll all be in trouble, Shaun. Roberta flipped the phone shut. Do you feel like talking, Ma’am? she asked politely as she stared at the woman’s swollen eye and discolored lips.

      The woman remained mute.

      It hurts too much to speak. Huh? Roberta patted her hand again as she studied her face. She’d bet her nose was broken and maybe the area around her left eye socket since it looked bruised and swollen too. She could see the white part of her right eye was bloodshot. Her mouth was bruised and raw looking—with the lower lip split. Her cheeks were a mottled purple color that matched her lips. She was going to need stitches and maybe a little plastic surgery on her mouth and nose. Do you know who did this to you, Ma’am? You don’t have to speak; just nod yes or no, okay?

      Roberta watched as the woman returned her stare without blinking, then shrugged her shoulders and grimaced from the pain. If we showed you pictures, do you think you could ID the person? She noticed the woman’s good eye looking wildly around the room like she was afraid somebody might hear her answer. She closed her eyes as she groaned painfully. Roberta patted the woman’s hand. I’m so sorry this happened to you, Miss. I’m afraid I don’t know your name. Can you tell me your name?

      The woman squeezed Roberta’s hand hard as another wave of pain ripped through her body. She closed her eyes as her face became a mask of agony. Ooo, God, I hurt!

      Shaun appeared at the door and watched his partner work her magic on the dead woman. He hesitated to break up the bond she was forming with her. He was as surprised as the EMS techs standing behind him that the woman was alive and talking. That was good. They finally had a witness. My partner wasn’t kidding, guys. Go do your thing. He stepped away from the door to allow the medical technicians to reenter the room.

      The woman gripped Roberta’s hand throughout technicians’ cursory exam and refused to release it. Roberta watched them remove her bloodstained raincoat and toss it to the side.

      The techs took her vital signs.

      Detective Crawford, we need to remove the rest of her clothing to see the damage. Do you think you could release her hand?

      Roberta shrugged. I’m trying to, but she won’t let go. She leaned over until she was a hairsbreadth away from the woman’s face. Ma’am, I’ll stay right here, but you gotta let my hand go so they can help you.

      The woman’s eyes opened slowly. She looked dazed, almost sleepy, and her hand suddenly went limp. It dropped to her side as her breathing became shallow and her face turned an ashen gray.

      Shit! She’s going into shock, Denny! EMS Velasquez pressed a finger into her neck, then used his stethoscope. We’re losing her! Get away from her, Robbie. Right now! Give me the defibrillator! he yelled, applying gel on the paddles, then rubbing them together to make contact while his partner cut the woman’s flannel nightgown down the middle and flung the two sides open to expose her bare chest. They stared at the black, blue, and red bruising crisscrossing her chest and ending below her stomach. CPR was out of the question.

      We don’t have clearance yet, Denny remarked, monitoring the machine as he waited for the light to turn green. Give it a second. The machine beeped and the light turned green. Go, V.

      Everybody clear away! Velasquez ordered and pressed the live paddles into the woman’s chest over her heart and held them in position. Her body convulsed from the sudden electrical charge.

      Denny called out the time as he glanced at the heart monitor. Houston, we have a go! She’s back among the living, V.

      Roberta exhaled at the EMS tech’s attempt at humor. She cleared her throat several times before she spoke. You’d better not be screwing around, Denny. I hate it when you say stuff like that. It makes me think you don’t take life or death seriously.

      Velasquez removed the paddles from the woman’s chest while Denny checked her vital signs with a stethoscope.

      Denny gave a thumbs-up signal as he met Roberta’s worried look. Sorry about the remarks, Robbie, but I gotta do something to lighten the mood around here. He sighed. I’d hate to think we lost her again.

      Velasquez decided to change the subject before they upset the patient. Detective Crawford …er, I mean, Robbie, how about riding with us to the hospital? She seems to have formed a bond with you. It would be good for her to see you. Hospitals can be scary when you’re all alone.

      Roberta rubbed her hands together nervously, then asked in a low voice, How is she? I mean, I’d hate to be there if she…passed away in the ambulance.

      Nothing in life is an absolute guarantee, Robbie. You know that. I think she’s going to be fine. She’ll need some stitches and a little surgery to fix her nose. He didn’t mention that the woman might have internal bruising. He didn’t want to discourage Roberta from making the trip. If the patient was going to die, let it be around somebody she connected with in her last moments of life. He and his partner made quick work of removing her gown. They slipped on circulation pants to keep blood clots from going into her lungs and heart. They ran a line IV of Ringer’s Lactate into her arm and then covered her with a blanket.

      The woman groaned but didn’t open her eyes when the medical techs slipped a board underneath her to keep her back straight and snapped a brace around her neck. Ma’am, we’re ready to load you onto the gurney. You’re doing fine. Velasquez leaned over to pull her eyelids open, then flashed a penlight into her eyes. Pupils are reactive, he noted as he pressed the stethoscope into her chest.

      The patient groaned. It hurts, she murmured weakly and closed her eyes against the pain. Is the detective still here? she whispered in a soft scratchy voice.

      Yes, Ma’am. She’s going to ride to the hospital with us. Aren’t you, Roberta?

      The woman sighed. Roberta, a nice name, she added softly with difficulty. Mine’s Karen. She yawned. Feel sleepy… tired, Doctor.

      Detective Crawford frowned as she watched the woman fall asleep. She hoped that was what she was watching and not a peaceful death. Is she all right, Velasquez?

      Yeah, we gave her a little something for the pain so we could carry her to the bus and make the trip to the hospital. Velasquez chuckled at Roberta. Don’t look so worried, Robbie; she’s healthy. She should be fine once the doctors take a look.

      Fucking shit, she tricked me! the man muttered as he watched the ambulance cart away his victim. The way EMS and the cops were making a fuss over the gurney meant the bitch was still alive. He’d have to try again. This time, he’d make good on the promise he made to her grandmother. She’d be joining the old biddy soon…real soon.

      Hey, Mister? Do you hear me talking to you? What are you, deaf or something, buddy? the police officer asked the man as he glared at him when he didn’t obey his order. I SAID, THIS AIN’T NO TV SHOW, BUDDY! This is a crime scene. Move the hell along, asshole. The officer put his hand on his nightstick as he continued to glare at the man. He noted the man’s sour odor, his disheveled appearance in his baggy clothes, and his uncombed hair. He also noted how the man held a stark white hanky against his hand. He pointed to the homemade bandage with his nightstick. The clean hanky looked out of place against the man’s heavily wrinkled clothes. Hey, man, what’s that? What happened to your hand?

      The man shrugged, then looked embarrassed. It’s a souvenir. I was out drinking last night. I just lost my job, Officer. I musta cut my hand when the bartender threw me out at closing.

      Oh. The officer shrugged. He was glad the man had a reasonable explanation for the injury. He wasn’t looking forward to all the paperwork he’d have to fill out if he had to arrest the bum for loitering at a crime scene. Well, you gotta move along anyway, Mister.

      The man nodded. I’m going right now, Officer.

      The officer watched the man leave the sidewalk in front of the building and cross to the other side of the street. He disappeared into a crowd of onlookers. Damn! He smelled like shit! the cop mumbled, waving a hand in front of his face to push the odor away.

      The bus ride to the hospital took about eight minutes. Roberta estimated the time as she hopped off the ambulance at the ER entrance. She stood in front of the ambulance headlights and watched the two EMS techs and the ER trauma team wheel the woman named Karen into the hospital. She hung back, debating whether to accompany them inside.

      Denny turned around when he noticed her hesitation and nodded. Come on, Robbie. The stuff we administered is wearing off. She’ll be confused and in pain when she sees this place. We got another call, so we can’t stay with her until that happens. He studied Roberta’s face, reading the anxiety in it. You know like I do that she could use a friendly face. He sighed. I know it’s hard for you to do this, but give it a shot. He smiled at Roberta for encouragement. You might get lucky and she’ll say something useful to your case.

      Roberta cleared her throat. I don’t know, Denny. You know hospitals and me don’t get along. I can find a bunch of reasons not to do this.

      Yeah, I know, but do it anyway. Denny grinned as he and his partner pushed the gurney in the direction of the ambulance. Come on, Kiddo; the department will thank you later.

      Roberta frowned as she stopped to consider his words. She walked quickly toward the gurney. He was right. The victim might talk and say something she could use to find the man who did this. By the time Shaun arrived, the woman might be in surgery, so she’d have to do this interview. The woman mentioned he might come back to kill her, but she wouldn’t say who he was. In an unfamiliar place

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