Daddy's Little Killer

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

I hate hard liquor. My father always said that hard liquor was for hard women. A hard woman could never appreciate the subtle nuances of weaving an effective tale that could save her life. Personally, I see his point, but think the stuff tastes like kerosene anyway. I never believed anyone drank it for the delightful flavor. Its numbing effects however, are another story.

My hands shook hard enough to cripple easy opening of the tiny bottle of scotch from the mini-bar. On the third attempt, the metal band broke and the cap yielded. I poured the amber liquid into the crystal glass at the bar and downed the pungent liquid. Gagged. Twisted off another cap. Repeat. 

After three, the shaking had subsided enough to dial the tiny buttons on the cell phone I purchased earlier today. I remembered the number George Hardy left on my voicemail at home. Three hours earlier on the west coast, Hardy might still be in his office at four in the afternoon.

"Commissioner Hardy's office, may I help you?"

"Yes, I'm returning a call to the commissioner," I said. "He telephoned me early this morning with a job offer."

"May I have your name please?"

"I'm with behavioral analysis at the FBI." Maybe David hadn't processed my graveside resignation yet. 

"One moment please."

There was a scarce pause, then, "Dr. Eriksson?"

"Is this Commissioner George Hardy?"

"Yes, yes."

"This is Dr. Eriksson, Mr. Hardy."

"I wasn't sure you'd call me back today. I understand you had a funeral this morning. My condolences, doctor."

"Thank you. I was surprised by your call. You said you had business to discuss with me, yet you called my personal number at home. Most requests for bureau assistance come through official channels."

"Well, that's true enough. We're not interested in asking the FBI to come help us, Dr. Eriksson. We want you."

"I see. May I ask what gave you the impression that I'm authorized to take on private contracts for work in addition to my duties assigned by my employer?"

"You come highly recommended, and one of our police captains says he knows you. Rodney Martin?"

"I remember Rodney." Remembered being abandoned by him while he pursued his obviously successful ladder climb in law enforcement. "Still, that doesn't explain why you would contact me directly, Mr. Hardy."

"Rodney heard about your husband's death last week, ma'am. He thought... well, we all wondered if you might be up for a change of scenery after such a tragic event."

"I see."

"I realize the timing of my phone call was inopportune. Pardon the intrusion if you will."

"It's quite all right, Mr. Hardy. I'm afraid at this time, I'm not interested in taking on additional work."

"And the FBI isn't going to insist that you take some time off?"

"Rick was my ex-husband."

"Oh. Well, I suppose that does put a different face on the matter. Don't suppose I could interest you in a short term arrangement in any case, could I?"

"Like a consultant arrangement?"

I heard creaking over the phone connection. 

"At this point, Dr. Eriksson, we'd be willing to offer you whatever it takes to get your help. I'm not sure how much you know about Darkwater Bay."