On Call: An Original Short Story Read Free

with two buttons ripped off. Her eyes, normally bright and absolutely riveting, were foggy. Her mouth had fallen open as though begging for one last gasp of air. I could see the welts, red and raw, around her neck where somebody had choked the life out of her. Not believing what I knew was fact, I raced over and checked for pulses in her carotid and radial arteries. Her skin was cool and slightly mottled, her limbs totally limp.
    I had seen death before, many times, in fact.
    But this was my very first murder.

    The police, of course, interviewed me. I went voluntarily to the station to give my account of the incident. Two detectives joined me inside the interview room. One, who was there for Paul’s arrest, looked like he could have eaten the other—the Abbott and Costello of law enforcement. The large one was Detective Anderson and the slighter of the pair was Detective Rodriquez. I told them why I went to On-Call #6, and that got their attention.
    “So your friend Lou Welcome recently broke things off with Annabelle?” Rodriquez asked.
    “He said he had reservations about the relationship.”
    “Did he know that Paul Brosnan was also interested in Annabelle?”
    The cramped room, with two-way glass, whitewashed concrete brick walls, and a pine-top desk, instantly got a whole lot smaller and more than a pinch hotter. I swallowed hard, sensing the coming storm. My feet tapped a nervous rhythm against the gray, nappy carpet.
    “Paul is dating Annabelle’s roommate, a woman named Victoria,” I said.
    “Well, Annabelle kept a diary, or a notebook,” Anderson said, interlocking his meaty fingers. “We found it locked in her gym bag. There are a bunch of entries about your pal Lou and another bunch about Brosnan. Only her version is different from yours. She wrote that she broke things off with Welcome. I don’t think they had even gotten laid when she did.”
    “And Paul?”
    “Looks like he came on to Annabelle pretty hot and heavy while she was still seeing your pal.”
    “Some friend,” Rodriquez added.
    “Anyway, from the diary entries at least, Annabelle was pretty clear with Brosnan. She wasn’t interested. Did the victim and Brosnan work together?”
    “No,” I said, “except that she was his chief resident.”
    “What about this Victoria person? Did Annabelle hook them up?”
    “No, Paul met Victoria at the hospital cafeteria. She’s a physical therapist here at Eisenhower.”
    “But he’s probably been to Annabelle’s apartment a lot, to hang out with Victoria, I mean,” Rodriquez said.
    “Probably,” I said. “You’ll have to ask Paul.”
    “We did,” Anderson said.
    I got the feeling that I’d sidestepped a trap.
    “So, do you think Welcome knew about Brosnan coming on to the victim?” Anderson asked.
    “He never said anything about it.”
    “Is Welcome the sort of jealous man who wouldn’t want the victim to have anybody else?”
    “He broke up with Annabelle, remember?”
    “That’s not what she wrote in her diary,” Rodriquez said.
    My blood pressure spiked. “Are you asking me if I think Lou killed Annabelle? That’s crazy! He wanted me to go find her and reason with her. Why would he do that if he had something to do with her murder?”
    “So he could strengthen his alibi,” Anderson suggested.
    Rodriquez looked over his notes. “You said it was like six hours between the time Welcome asked you to go look for the victim and when you found her body.”
    “Plenty of time to commit murder,” Anderson added.
    “Also, Welcome might have been pretty pissed at her,” Rodriquez said. “Wasn’t the deceased spreading rumors about him? That’s what you said, right?”
    “He thought she was,” I clarified.
    It was Anderson’s turn. They were the tag team detectives. “What about Brosnan? Did he ever mention wanting to hurt the victim?”
    “He rarely talked about Annabelle. He’s in love with Victoria.”
    “Did you know he was dealing drugs?” Anderson