Eileen Slovak

Chapter Fifty-one: Some Intimacy, Some Dirt and a Crack in the Case

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and locales are products of the author’s imagination. They are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is coincidental. Copyright © 2024 by Eileen Slovak.

Scott

Scarlet finally calls. I let her know I’m going out of town at the end of the week for a few days. I want to see her before I go.  

      “Have you eaten?” she asks.

      “No, not yet.”

      “Ok, I have it covered. On my way.”

      She walks in with her arms full of a large paper sack. She places it on the counter in the kitchenette.

      “I brought Chinese.”

      “Scarlet, I really need to talk to you about something important.” It’s now or never.

      “Let’s talk after we eat. I’m starving! I’ve been smelling this all the way here. If I was talented enough to eat Lo Mein with lobster sauce while driving, you’d be looking at empty containers right now.”

      She opens the boxes, setting them on the counter top. When I approach, she starts feeding me noodles right from the carton with chopsticks.

      “I see that look! There will be none of that,” she says, teasingly, before turning her attention back to the food.

      I put my hands on her hips, kissing the nape of her neck.

      “Why do you have to be so gorgeous?”

      I continue kissing her, slipping her blouse off her right shoulder. I’m losing my nerve again, distracted by my attraction to her.

      “So, good news,” she says, licking her fingertips. “Looks like they’ve identified my stalker.”

      “Oh?” I pause in what I’m doing. “Who is it?”

      “Some crazy inventor. He peed on my car tire. So gross! Can you believe that? I took it through the car wash twice to stop obsessing over it. Anyway, after we turned him down on his ‘so called’ invention. He called a zillion times a day. Some people are born creepy. Don’t you think? He was probably spying on me. The whole thing gives me the willies,” she says.

      “I’m glad. I’ve been worried about you. So, he’s the one who spray painted your car then?”

      “Most likely. I’ll know more after Gary talks to him. I wonder if he’s been peering in my windows at night. It makes my skin crawl to think that creep has been spying on me.”

      Him, plus her other stalkers, Slumansky, me and who knows who else. Slumanksy wouldn’t be dumb enough to graffiti her car, would he? I put off telling her again. Even if she was there. So what? If he chased her, it’s not her fault, right? But she would know. She would be guilty about it. The fainting at the funeral. I never asked her about the boarding pass I saw in her apartment. Why was she in Arkansas? I’m letting it go. Even though I know professionally, I’m in the wrong by doing so.

      “This is so good. I needed this. Egg roll?” She asks, holding up the egg roll, then taking a nibble while she starts to unbutton her blouse. “Do you want to know what’s even better than Chinese?” She asks, leaving the food where it sits before turning to face me.

      “What?”

      “Chinese after sex.”

      I finish unbuttoning her blouse, kissing my way down her stomach.

      “Stop. I’m really ticklish,” she say’s twisting away.

      “Oh, I’ll show you tickling.” I continue kissing her down her stomach. I’m unbuttoning then unzipping her skirt as I go until she’s standing in her black bra and panties. I let out a sigh. Leaving her clothes in a pile on the kitchen floor, I lift her in a fireman’s carry and go to the bedroom. She’s laughing and wiggling so much that I nearly drop her. I toss her down on the bed standing over her triumphantly. Scarlet grabs a pillow and whacks me with it, hitting me so hard that I lose my balance.

      “Aha! Caught you off guard didn’t I, tough guy?”

      “You’re gonna pay for that O’Brien.”

      “Bring it!” She kneels on the bed with her fists up like a boxer.

      Grabbing her wrists with one hand, I sweep my other arm under her legs flattening her to the bed.

      “Oh, tricky,” she says.

      Still holding both of her wrists with one hand, I use the other, to remove her bra. Then I use it to tie her hands to the bedpost.

      “That’s my best bra!” She protests.

      “It’s an excellent bra…for tying you up with.” I remove my belt tying her ankles. Still fully dressed I sit on the edge of the bed admiring her. “Hmmm, what should I do with you now?”

      Scarlet’s squirming around trying to release her hands and ankles to no avail.

     “Maybe I’ll leave you here so I can eat all the Chinese food myself.” I kiss her and she arches her back. The kissing intensifies.

      “If you wait much longer, it’s going to be too late,” she says, closing her eyes.

      I undress slowly, never taking my eyes off of her. It’s like the first night all over again. Hungry, wild.

      We lay quietly in my bed. The lights from the city fill the dark room giving it an eerie glow. It has been drizzling all day but now the raindrops are hitting the window with rapid force. Scarlet’s resting her head on my chest.

      “Why did you leave the Navy?”

      I let out a deep breath thinking about the story that’s been haunting my waking mind and sabotaging my sleep for the past six months. Fearing what she’ll think about me once she knows. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.

      “My last mission…was in Afghanistan supporting a Seal Team. I was an interrogator, there to gather intelligence. My job was to figure out when and where we could carry out our mission with a group of terrorists. Then I let the boys go in to deal with them. We apprehended one member of the cell. I was doing the interrogation on him while the team surveyed the perimeter.” I pause.

      “We secured the house. I tied the guy in a chair, working him pretty hard. Everything was going as planned. After about an hour, I was getting some quality intel. We were good to go after the rest.” I pause, sighing. “When I untied his hands, he pulled a knife out of nowhere. I’d patted him down earlier, but somehow, I missed it. He hid it down his pants or something. I wrestled him for the knife. He got a few good swipes in at me. When my friend Jacob jumped in to help me, he caught the knife in the stomach. I pounded the prisoner, knocking him out, but it was too late for Jacob. I pressed my hands over the wound…it was spouting blood. We were so far away from help. We couldn’t save him. He was my friend. And I got him killed.”

     “You can’t blame yourself.” She says leaning up, looking at me. “That could have happened to anyone in that situation. It was an accident.”

     “No, Scarlet it was my fault. I botched the mission. I should have done a better search or waited before I untied him. I should have…I don’t know what. I’ve gone over it a million times.”

     “Shhhh.” She kisses me. Neither of us can sleep. We lay quietly listening to the rain battering the window. I feel guilty with her wrapped in my arms. You’re too good for me Scarlet. I’ll only let you down.

      The next day, before I leave for Boston, Slumansky calls, insisting I come in. According to him, the Campbell’s are running out of patience. They want a final report by the end of next week.

      “This thing was always a dead end if you ask me. Get it?” Slumansky laughs.

      Not amused, I want to pound him. I feel like I know Sean now, in a way.

      “You may as well get it over with. Tell the parents the truth. The kid hit a construction site going sixty miles an hour because he hated his job and his girlfriend dumped him. Whatever. Shit happens. People crack. You of all people should know that.”

      It took every ounce of restraint to ignore the dig and not punch him out.

      “That’s the most likely scenario, but there’s no real proof of that. I’ll call them to set up a meeting for Friday. I have one more person to interview in Boston. I’m heading there now. I’ll wrap it up after that.”

      “Why haven’t you done it yet?” Slumansky asks, pretending he cares.

      “An old girlfriend. She’s been hard to pin down. There’s a history. I need to talk to her. I need too know if she was in contact with him around the time of the accident. Who knows, maybe there’s still something missing.”

      “Or maybe you just want to get yourself a stiffy by chatting up another one of the dead guy’s ex-bimbos. You figure you can keep on using this agency as your personal dating service.”

      I consider my answer carefully. I know of multiple ways to kill a man with my bare hands. I run through a few scenarios in my mind. I’m practicing self-restraint. Plus, I already shared my concerns with Jeff at FMPI along with some photographs of the conditions here. With any luck, Slumansky will be soon be toast. I can be patient.

      “I’ll have the final report in a few days.”

      “Good. I’m sick of looking at you anyway. See it doesn’t take any longer than Friday.  You’ve dicked around enough. I want my cut of this stiff’s estate already.”

      Slumansky is too preoccupied for once to get in my way. He seems anxious about something, leaving in a hurry: “Don’t forget to lock up.”

      I’m seething at his lack of respect for Sean’s family. I need some dirt on this filth bag to seal his fate. The man has no scruples. The office is a complete disaster. There’s no sign of the cat who has been hanging around. I hope she’s found herself a better place to live.

      The bulk of the casework is done. Once I resolve Iannuccilli, I’ll have interviewed plus re-interviewed everyone on the list. I go through the paperwork, receipts, mail one more time. There’s nothing. Jeff’s technical guy accessed Sean’s phone. He’s sending it back. I’ve done all I can except for one thing, Scarlet’s letter. I’m putting it off until after this trip. Then I can close the file on Sean Campbell in semi-good conscience. I’ll get the report to Sean’s parents and be done with this. Scarlet will be so angry she won’t care that I’m leaving town.

      Under the piles on Slumansky’s desk, a light is blinking on his computer. He left in such a hurry, he didn’t shut his computer down properly, he only closed the lid. I flip it open, scanning the files. Bingo. There are countless pornographic photos. I take pictures, showing his name, the files, then made a quick copy of everything on a thumb drive. I tuck it into my backpack to send to Jeff. If the pig wants to make trouble for me, I’m prepared, like a good Boy Scout.

      It’s not the best day for a road trip. It’s been flurrying all morning. The radio weather report says to expect accumulation. By the time I reach Boston, the storm is raging. Luckily, I timed the hour-long ride right. I make it to the hotel before the heavy snow started clogging up the highways, slowing down commuters. I can’t wait to be back in the South.

      In the room, I review the interview notes again, pausing on the interviews with Kevin, Sean’s best friend. Our first meeting was so soon after the funeral, Kevin seemed out of it. I suspected Kevin was holding back something regarding Sean’s relationship with Patricia. Listening to both recordings again, I hope to pick up something I missed earlier.

      “What can I tell you? I didn’t care for her. She was high maintenance, big on drama. You know the type?” Kevin said.

      “Do you think Sean was still in love with her?”

      “No, definitely not, but he still saw her. The Campbell’s and the Iannuccilli’s live in the same neighborhood. They had family bar-b-ques in the summertime, stuff like that. He tried to break things off with her more than once, but she had a hold over him. You had to know Sean; he was the nicest guy on the planet. When he met Scarlet, Trish went nuts, she wouldn’t leave them alone. I liked Scarlet; she was different. She was good for him. After the move, I guess it was more than she wanted to deal with. I don’t think Trish ever gave up trying to get Sean back.”

      “Do you know if she ever went out to see him, Scarlet or Trish, for that matter?”

      “Oh, yeah, Scarlet went down for a few weekends. He came home sometimes. I don’t know about Trish. It wouldn’t surprise me though. The thing is, Sean knew what I thought about her.  All his friends told him to cut her loose. So, he stopped talking to us about her.”

      “I hate to ask you this, Kevin. In your mind, is there any possibility that Sean may have taken his own life?”

      “What? Dude, No! Not even. He would never do that. I know he was broken up about Scarlet. He talked about quitting his job, but no. I don’t see that. That was more her thing.”

      “Who? Trish?”

      “He made me swear not to tell anyone. He went to visit her in the hospital not long after they split up. He didn’t want his family to find out.”

      “She tried to hurt herself?”

      “Like I said, she had problems, but Sean’s parents liked her. She came from the right stock if you know what I mean? More so than Scarlet anyway. Look, I know Sean’s parents are having a hard time letting go. It’s so hard to accept that nothing’s going to bring him back.”

      “Thanks for your time, Kevin. My condolences again.”

      Listening to the interview, I feel like a complete jerk. There I am being sympathetic to Kevin, Sean’s best friend, meanwhile I’m seeing Scarlet. I put away the file, deception weighing heavily on my mind. I have to tell her the truth first thing when I get back, hopefully she’ll understand.

      The more I investigate Sean’s life, the more I wish I’d known him when he was alive. Sean had beautiful girlfriends, a promising career, a multitude of friends, a family who obviously loved him. I feel a pang of angst thinking of the waste of this young man’s life. Why would someone with so much to live for, kill himself? I’m not sure he did. That’s why I can’t let this go. I know suicide doesn’t make sense to the family or friends of the victim. It never will. It’s the same question I’ve been asking myself every day for the last nineteen years. After weeks of investigating, this is all I have to tell the Campbell’s? I’m not looking forward to that conversation. I’m not even certain I believe it myself anymore, but based on the facts I’ve gathered there’s no other explanation.

      My cell phone is ringing. I hope it’s Scarlet but the number isn’t familiar.

      “Hello.”

      “Scott Manchester?”

      “Yes, how can I help you?”

      “You said to call anytime.”

      It took me a minute to place the voice of Sean’s building manager in Arkansas.

      “Yes, thanks for calling.”

      “I have some more mail for Mr. Campbell. Should I mail it to the family?”

      “Yeah, I think that makes the most sense.”

      “The thing is…you may want to see it.”

      “What is it?”

      “There’s an envelope that was forwarded. It must have been lost. The postmark is from November.”

      “Who’s it from?”

      “BMW. I thought you’d want to know.”

      “Yes, thank you. Can you send that to me overnight if possible? Let me give you an address in Rhode Island.”

      What sort of guy does this for a living? What did I get myself into? Stalking, snooping, lying to people? I’m thinking this while I review the information I have on Patricia Iannuccilli, a 28-year-old graduate of Boston College. She comes from a wealthy family in Barrington, Rhode Island. A former ballet dancer, she teaches part-time at a dance academy in Boston. Looking at her photograph, I see she has the body of a dancer. She’s medium height, slim, almost too thin, with long jet-black hair hiding shadowy eyes. I put the picture back in the file. She goes by Trish. Trish is dating Carl Johnson, a tenured photography professor at RISD. I met him. Buy my estimate he’s at least twice her age. She still spends some time in Rhode Island. According to reports from people affiliated with Sean, she’s unstable. I’ve experienced some of her angst firsthand. There’s still tension between Scarlet and Trish, as witnessed the night of Corky’s art show. A face to face with Trish will be interesting to say the least. So far, she’s only hung up on me whenever I’ve called. There’s no telling how this will go. I’m anticipating not well.