The Golden Telescope

25 - DEADLY COLLUSION

PORTLAND, OREGON - 8 YEARS PRIOR

"Yes, I'm Mrs. Earl O'Brien." Lizzie pulled her satin dressing gown a little tighter around her waist and ran her fingers through her disheveled hair. "What can I do for you, officers?" Lizzie asked the two uniformed men standing at her front door.

"Yes, of course, he's home. What is this about?" Earl could hear her side of the conversation from where he was nervously pacing in the bedroom, down the hall.

"I see, one moment, please, while I get him for you." Lizzie turned and walked down the hall to where her husband was waiting.

"Earl, it's time ...they're at the door," Lizzie said under her breath, with a note of trepidation in her voice.

Earl stopped pacing and looked at her for a long moment before inhaling deeply, wiping his forehead, and pushing his glasses up off the end of his nose. He grabbed the forest green paisley bathrobe from its hook on the wall and pulled it on over his pajamas before turning to leave. "Wish me luck," he whispered over his shoulder as he made his way to where the policemen stood.

"Mister O'Brien, please forgive the early hour," the older man took the lead. "I'm Officer Peterson, and this is Officer Williams with Portland PD." They pulled out their badges to support their claim. "You are listed as Sgt. Roswell Mac Paidin's emergency contact," the man stopped talking and waited for Earl's response.

All of Earl's practicing didn't help much at this moment. He wasn't used to pretense. He crossed his arms defensively over his chest. "Yes, that's correct. I'm Ross's uncle. What's the problem, gentlemen? Is Ross in some kind of trouble?"

"May we come in? You should sit down for this, sir," Officer Peterson replied, and Earl moved uncomfortably to the side and ushered them into the living room, where he motioned for them to have a seat. It was Williams who spoke next; "I'm with the Medical Examiner's office, Mr. O'Brien. I'm sorry to tell you there has been a terrible accident." He paused, looking at his partner, then back to Earl. "I'm deeply saddened to report that both Mr. Mac Paidin and his wife, as well as two others with them, were killed in an automobile collision downtown this morning. We need you to come with us to identify the bodies."

"Oh, my lord..." He choked. "Dear God, no..." He glanced at the officers, and they looked back at him sadly. But though Earl appeared outwardly distraught, inside, he was calm. He knew this was his role alone to play. "Please allow me to dress, and... may we follow you in our vehicle?" he asked, looking to where his wife stood anxiously waiting.

"Yes, absolutely, that will be fine," the policeman replied, "We'll wait for you in the patrol car," he said, and they got up to leave.

"Oh, wait a minute," Earl quickly added the all-important question, "What about their children? Do they know yet?" he gazed questioningly at the men.

The officers looked at one another, surprised. Peterson spoke, "No, you are our first contact about this. It might be best coming from you. Are you close?" he looked at Earl expectantly.

"Yes, we see their three children frequently. Thank goodness they weren't with their parents..." he began. "But where are they now?" he asked, then answered his own question, "Probably at home with a sitter. Oh, my gosh, those poor kids."

LEGACY GOOD SAMARITAN HOSPITAL - PORTLAND, OREGON

"Thank you, again, for coming down to identify the bodies. That must have been a tough thing to do," Officer Peterson said.

They were walking together down the stark, wide hospital hallway on their way to the elevator that led up from the morgue.

"I know you must be thinking about talking to the children, and I will let you go to do that, but there is something you need know about this collision," he paused, and Earl and Lizzie stopped, staring at him. "We suspect this may not have been an accident."

"What do you mean, it may not have been an accident? You think they were murdered?" Earl shot back at the man. He was panicking inside. Lizzie's eyes were wide, but she uttered not a word.

"There is a strong possibility that is the case," the policeman looked at them both, then continued. "The vehicle that hit them was a city garbage truck, and it was vacant when we arrived on the scene, so we are looking into that," he finished.

"Why would a city garbage truck driver deliberately run into a car-full of people?" Earl asked, indignant. "Maybe he was just afraid of the repercussions and ran off, trying to evade arrest or prosecution," Earl offered. Peterson only looked at him with a strange frown on his brow. Earl stuttered. "Regardless, I hope you're working on tracking down that driver!" He tried to sound convincing.

Officer Peterson pursed his lips and nodded; his chin held high. "That is the question we are asking ourselves. And I promise you; we won't stop until whoever did this is brought to justice."