The Loveable Resident Chapter Ten

All rights reserved
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan 2018, 2019



"MIKE STARED AT THE view of the landscape outside his penthouse window, noting the brilliant lights flickering in the buildings in front of his view. He felt a deepening gloom. The idea of returning to New Haven Hospital was almost unbearable to him. He didn’t want to return. He turned the idea of calling and quitting by remote in his mind but readily realized that was not the right way out. He took a sip of his scotch and water. He thought of what was said earlier that night at Jonathan’s library. Two stab wounds. He remembered he didn’t stab twice. He began to doubt this, but he felt sure he stabbed Levy once. It puzzled him. What made the police say there were two stab wounds? How did Moore get this information? There was a buzz at the door. He went to the intercom. A figure came to the screen. It was Lauren. “Hi. I need to come up and talk to you,” she said. “Fine.” He turned the intercom off and stood by the elevator doors. She was dressed casually. There was a hint of nervous energy in her demeanor as she walked in. He found her intensely attractive tonight. Maybe it was because she looked at him with a mysterious smile. “What brings you here?” he asked. “Care for a drink?” “I . . . Sure, I’d like a drink.” “What will you take?” “I’ll have what you’re having.” “OK.” He turned from her and went to the bar. “You and your dad.” “What about us?” “You have me totally.”
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Mary Faderan “Does that bother you?” “No. I would rather be in your hands than anyone else’s.” “I . . . I thought I’d like to go with you to New Haven,” she announced as she looked at his back. He lifted his head and turned around. “Why?” He sounded irritated. “Don’t you trust me?” “It’s not that.” She went to him and took her drink from his hand. “I was thinking of continuing the conversation.” Her face lifted to his. “I can’t do that long distance.” He took her in his arms and kissed her. After a long pause, he smiled at her. “I didn’t think you’d give me another chance. I thought you—” “I don’t know. I mean . . . I mean . . .” She stammered, blushing. “Here we are, and I know I want this. I can’t say how it will all come out. But I feel like you and I should be together.” “Uh, Lauren. You don’t know me. I’m not good.” He pulled her close and kissed again. This time, they swayed in each other’s arms. She let him deepen the kiss. “Mike. I know you’re human. It’s all that matters. Let me go with you,” she whispered. He slipped his hands down her body, and then he pulled away. “Does your father know?” “Yes.” She laughed softly. “He seems to be good at reading minds.” Mike took her hand and led her to the couch. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning. You need to pack some things.” “I have my bags downstairs.” He laughed and took her closer. “Such confidence.” She held him off. “I’m not staying at your apartment. I’m staying at the hotel.” “Why?” “I’m still your lawyer, Mike. We have to be careful.” Mike smiled at her. “Let’s be careful then,” he said mockingly. Detective Bill Gaddis and his young partner, Tom Ripley, walked up to a garden apartment in the nearby town of Hamden, Connecticut. Gaddis looked around, his eyebrows lifting slightly. “Not a bad neighborhood, eh, Tom?”
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Sevier took a glance around. “No,” he sniffed. “It’s OK. My girlfriend has a pad like this out in West Haven. Damn pricey, though.” “Well, what do we know about Susanna Bacon?” Sevier looked through his flip notepad. “She’s a grad student in philosophy, working on a PhD. She’s thirty years old, never married. She’s from New Jersey. Lives alone. That’s all I know.” “Good enough.” Gaddis looked at the apartment door and rapped on it. There was a sound of a chain being unlatched, and the door opened. A slim fair-haired woman stepped out and squinted at them. “Ms. Susanna Bacon?” Gaddis said. “Yes.” “I’m Lt. Bill Gaddis, and this is Detective Tom Ripley who spoke to you on the phone.” “Oh, sure, yes. Come in.” She opened the door wider. “Thanks.” Her apartment was relatively tidy, but there were several books that lay open on several surfaces—the coffee table, the desk by the window—and a small tabby cat glowered at them from her bed by the fireplace. “I’ve been studying for an exam, so please find a place to sit.” “That’s OK,” Gaddis spoke crisply. “You told Detective Ripley about the night of January 11 at the Yale Gym parking lot? Could you please give us a few more details? What time were you there, and what did you see?” “Well, I run, and I was getting out of the gym. It was about eight fortyfive p.m.” She paused. “I’m usually at the gym around seven thirty p.m., I get myself dressed for the workout, and then I leave the gym to go for a run. If it’s too cold or snowing, I stay there to get a workout on the treadmill.” “Go on.” Gaddis tried not to show his impatience. “I left about eight forty-five p.m. and left by the back door where the gym parking lot is located. People don’t usually work out past eight p.m., so the parking lot is basically empty.” She caught her breath as if dreading the next part of her speech. “I . . . I saw a guy. He was dressed in running clothes, he . . . he was leaning over another guy. That guy was on the ground. He looked like he had collapsed or something. I almost said something, but something about the whole scene gave me a shiver. The guy lifted his hand, and I saw a knife in gleam in the light.”
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Mary Faderan “And then what did you do?” “I took off. I realized this was a bad scene.” Sevier spoke, “Did you see him stab the other guy?” “I didn’t, I just ran away.” Susanna’s pale face crumpled in emotion. “I’m sorry. I really don’t like to remember that.” Gaddis glanced at Sevier. “OK. If we had a lineup, would you be able to recognize the man that was leaning over the other guy?” “No,” Susanna Bacon replied. “That guy had a hood over his head. He looked like he was big. But I couldn’t see his face.” “Can you tell if the knife you saw was big or small?” “I think it was a regular-size knife.” She shrugged. “Thanks, Ms. Bacon. You’ve been very helpful.” Gaddis gave her a brief smile. Once they were outside, Ripley said, “It’s not a great thing she couldn’t make him.” “No.” “So we know he’s a big guy with a knife—a regular-size knife.” “What do we know about Levy anyway?” “He was in his fifties, divorced, lived alone. Rich or at least he had some money.” “Any heirs or what?” “Only a niece that lives in Waterbury.” Ripley twisted his mouth. “I haven’t found out if she stands to get any of his cash. I know that he had a big malpractice suit against him a year ago. Name of the patient that died is Mary Keene. Suit alleged that his patient died from negligence on his part. Result of the case was that Levy got off.” Gaddis and Sevier got into Gaddis’s car, and as they buckled up, Gaddis said, “Find out the particulars about Levy’s malpractice suit. The people who brought the case to court. Interview the lawyer for the plaintiff—that sort of thing.” “Right.” “We might be looking at a case of revenge,” Gaddis said, slanting a look at his sergeant. Mike woke up, feeling disoriented. He opened his eyes and found himself on his side, his arm flung over Lauren as she slept beside him. He
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felt a surge of desire as he remembered the previous night’s passion. He looked at her face in repose next to his. As soon as he moved against her, Lauren awoke and looked at him unseeingly. Then she smiled shyly at him. “Good morning,” Mike said softly. “Hi.” “You’re beautiful.” She blushed and then said, “No. I must look a mess.” “No, not really.” “Are we—” “Shh.” He kissed her, and they were quiet for a few moments. Afterward, she leaned up on her elbow and surveyed him. For a moment, he felt unsure what she thought of him. “What time do we leave?” “Whenever we are ready. It’s up to you and me.” She leaned over him, her hair spilling over his face. “I’m not ready yet,” she murmured. She slid her slim body over his and kissed him. He pulled her close and gave a low groan when she closed herself over him. An hour later, both were dressed and stood in the middle of the penthouse, sipping coffee that the waiter brought up together with the breakfast trolley. She looked at the breakfast items on the sidebar. “Lovely!” she uttered appreciatively. He was reading the newspaper. “I’ve asked them to pack us some lunch for the trip.” “Um, fine.” Then she turned and said, “Oh, Mike!” “Yes?” “Your party. Your mom—she doesn’t know you were leaving town today?” “Oh. I called her when you were in the shower. She’s good.” “Ah, that’s good, then.” She took her plate and sat down at the breakfast bar. “Aren’t you eating?” “No.” He glanced up at her and then chuckled. “Lovemaking for me means I can’t eat for hours after.” A ghost of a smile came to her face. “It’s the opposite for me.” Mike realized he wasn’t her first, and a look of alarm crossed his face. “Of course. I should know better.”
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“Why?” “I’m not the first one you ever made love to.” “Should that be a problem?” Her eyes looked solemnly at him. “Do you like being the first for any woman?” He put the paper down and sat down across from her. His eyes were serious. “I wanted to be the first for you. I thought you—” “Well, you aren’t,” Lauren said crisply, biting into a piece of toast. “Mike, you must accept that 80 percent of women have already had sex after the age of twenty-one?” “Is that a fact? Do you have any sources?” he taunted. “No, but I’m going out on a limb to say that I am pretty close with that statistic.” Mike was caught in a difficult moment. He didn’t want to argue. He wanted to tell her that she was someone he was falling for even now when she had to tell him he wasn’t the first. “Oh, never mind!” He felt deflated. She watched him surreptitiously as he got up and went to the side bar. A disquiet reigned while he reluctantly picked up a plate and put food in it. Lauren studiously avoided his gaze when he returned to the table. “Are you sure you want to check into a hotel when we get to New Haven?” “I’m very sure.” “You sound so lawyerlike.” “I am a lawyer.” “God, what happened to us?” His eyes blazed. “Mike, what do you mean?” “Well . . .” He frowned at the boiled egg in front of him. “No, you’re right. You and Jonathan have been great. I owe you both a lot. Someone has to have a level head, and it might as well be you.” She put her napkin down and got up to refill her coffee. “Last night was lovely,” she said without turning. “Yes. I thought so too.” “Mike, you . . . and I,” Lauren said in a light tone, “we have to get you out of this problem. You need to understand there’s a lot of hurdles you have to go through.”
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“Fine,” he said with a snap. “I’ll do what you want. I’m still a murderer. Is that what you’re saying?” “No. Technically, you did not murder Dr. Levy,” she said cautiously. “We know someone else killed him off—finished him off.” “And that’s what I’d like to know. Who would want him dead?” Relieved that the conversation was now on business, Lauren finally joined him at the table. “I haven’t got a clue. We need to make sure that you don’t talk about the stabbing to anyone or even to the police.” “I won’t.” He looked at her face. “This isn’t ethical, is it?” “Not exactly,” she said coolly. “We—my father and I—have been your father’s legal counselors for years, and now we are yours. I believe my father owed a lot to your family when he first made partner. It’s something that has kept us in touch with your family. Let’s just say my family wants you to get off as much as possible.” He gave her a nod and said nothing."