Beryl Kent and the Bleeding Man Read online

  K. B. Pellegrino

  BERYL KENT AND THE BLEEDING MAN

  A Captain Beauregard Mystery

  ©2021

  © K. B. Pellegrino

  Beryl Kent and the Bleeding Man

  Technical and Artistic Consultants: Alchemy Marketing, Sutton, Quebec, Canada

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  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

  Organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

  Of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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  ISBN: (HC) 978-1-951012-18-2

  ISBN: (SC) 978-1-951012-19-9

  ISBN: (EB) 978-1-951012-20-5

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2021921277

  MAIN CHARACTERS

  West Side Major Crimes Unit Detectives

  Captain Rudy Beauregard

  Lieutenant Mason Smith

  Lieutenant Petra Aylewood-Locke

  Lieutenant Ashton Lent

  Sergeant Ted Torrington

  Sergeant Lilly Tagliano

  Sergeant Juan Flores

  Sergeant Bill Border

  Sergeant Bobby Barr

  Other Recurring Characters

  Chief Coyne

  Attorney Norberto Cull

  Sheri Cull

  Mona Beauregard

  Mayor Fischler

  Jim Locke

  Luis Vargas

  Roland and Lizette Beauregard

  Monique Smith

  Charlotte Torrington

  Martina McKay

  Lavender James

  Introducing

  Beryl Roisin Arabella Kent

  Beryl Roisin Arabella Kent’s Favorite Quote:

  In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing.

  Theodore Roosevelt

  Contents

  CHAPTER 1 The Bleeding Man

  CHAPTER 2 The Area Search

  CHAPTER 3 Who is the Man?

  CHAPTER 4 Car Crash

  CHAPTER 5 Big Time Financiers and Lawyers

  CHAPTER 6 Confusion

  CHAPTER 7 The Lady is Dogged

  CHAPTER 8 Accident - No

  CHAPTER 9 The Dead Victims and More

  CHAPTER 10 Grace, Mona, and Beryl

  CHAPTER 11 Disruption and Displeasure

  CHAPTER 12 Political Placating

  CHAPTER 13 A Meeting, Interrogation, and A Date

  CHAPTER 14 Grace Grantley and Jed Mattias

  CHAPTER 15 Details

  CHAPTER 16 Beryl on the Perils of Dating

  CHAPTER 17 Busy Work

  CHAPTER 18 Christmas Holiday and the Rescue Dog

  CHAPTER 19 Holiday Houseful

  CHAPTER 20 Chicken or the Egg

  CHAPTER 21 Conversations

  CHAPTER 22 Zero Sum Gaming

  CHAPTER 23 Perp vs Victim

  CHAPTER 24 The Maze Unraveled

  1

  The Bleeding Man

  A quick movement caught by her eye caused Beryl Roisin Arabella Kent to focus on her back yard and glance out her kitchen French doors. She expected to see the doe that lately had frequented the woods disappearing into the trees, but it was not an animal moving. A man was running from the direction of her neighbor Mr. D’allasandro’s extravagant ranch home back area. She watched as he entered her space, giving her a more complete vision. Beryl’s brain balked and her body registered a stunning impression of fear at the sight of blood on the man’s chest. She quickly scanned the area but saw no one following the man. Grabbing her cell, she hurried through the French doors while dialing 911 and yelling into the phone, “24 Yellow Brook Dingle, West Side, man hurt and bleeding.” Downing the three steps to the grassy area almost resulted in her tipping sideways. When she reached level turf and felt grounded, the bleeding man grabbed her, falling and pulling her down with him landing partly on top of Beryl, insisting, “Help me. I don’t deserve to die so soon….”

  Momentarily immobile, Beryl struggled to get up from under what she thought must have been two hundred pounds of weight. She was on her back and her head had just missed the large landscape rock she had stolen from a Vermont mountain trail. She thought, I deserve to have died here, after all I stole the rock. Thank you, God. You’ve saved me again. She found herself wedged tightly beneath the man.

  Beryl tried several times to push him off, but he was too heavy. Finally, using the strength of her thighs she was able to push enough to allow herself to slide out from her wedged position. Yoga breathing helped her calm down, at least enough to evaluate the situation. She thought, check the carotids to see if he’s alive. That’s what’s done on television. There is a pulse. Oh God, help me, I’ve never taken a CPR course. I’ve wanted to, just never got around to it. Probably I thought I had too many other important things to do. What’s more important now than this man’s life? There’s no blood on his back, but there is blood all over me. And there is a smell. I’ve read blood has an odor, it does and it’s also sticky. How can I do CPR on his back when he might have a bullet or knife piece or something in his gut? He’s bled a lot. I’d do more damage. I absolutely hate it when I don’t have a solution or even a plausible idea for one.

  The voice on her cell was repeating, “Is this an emergency?”

  “Man is dying in my yard with blood all over him. That, in my mind, is an emergency.”

  “Do you know who he is?”

  “No.”

  The 911 operator asked, “Who are you?”

  Identifying herself, she explained the situation and that she could not lift him to press on his chest to help him breathe if he stopped breathing. She was told to wait for the ambulance and the police. They had already been directed to the site. Waiting, Beryl took two photos of the bleeding man, thinking, this is evidence for tomorrow when I’ll wonder if this really happened.

  Within eight minutes of Beryl’s call, an ambulance, a fire truck, and a police vehicle pulled into her side yard. The drive area had a stoned access section adjacent to the rear yard. The whirling lights created such angst in Beryl, her nerve endings vibrated. Tears flowed and she wiped her eyes with her sleeve and unknowingly got blood on her face. Why am I crying? I don’t know this man. So much hoopla creates agita. It’s bad enough, please don’t make it worse. Please let him live. Please let him live.
We shouldn’t die all alone on a stranger’s grass. But then, I am here and I can pray. That’s really all anyone can do. He does not look well, not well at all.

  Beryl was directed aside after she explained the situation to the first officer who questioned her. The officer was polite, but told Beryl to wait inside her home. Further, he said a detective would be taking a written statement insisting, “Ma’am, you look bad. I think you need a coffee or something and some space to quiet down.”

  Actually, he insisted she go inside her house for the waiting period, but she refused. Officer Shaughnessy suggested she stay out of their way. “You really would be better off not seeing all of this, it may not be good for you. Lady, you may want to reconsider going inside to wipe the blood off your face., and maybe get a mask on for your own safety. Never mind, leave it that way, the detectives will want the scene left as we found it.”

  Beryl answered with a brittle response. “What would blood on my face from wiping my eyes with my sleeve have to do with preserving the site. And it’s a little late for me if this man had COVID-19, then I’ll have it. I sincerely hope, Officer, you are not inferring something here. I’m not that old, Officer Shaughnessy, to put up with such nonsense even from the police. You think I’m put off by blood when I’ve seen more of death close to me than you could ever have imagine.”

  “Oh, you’re a nurse. I guess it’s okay for you to stay close by.”

  “No, Officer, I am not a nurse, just a survivor of life.”

  “You’re not old, Ms. Kent.”

  Fortunately, and timely for Officer Shaughnessy, West Side detectives pulled their car further over on the stone side area near the ambulance. They drove over the edge of the stones hitting the grass. Beryl flinched, loudly whispering, “Like all my visitors they have no sense of the difficulty in re-grassing a damaged turf. They’re detectives, they should be smarter.”

  She laughed at her short-sightedness, thinking, Christmas, my kids, in-laws, and friends, many who have doctorate degrees, drive right over the boundary. Only construction workers respect it.

  MCU detectives, Lieutenant Petra Aylewood-Locke and Sergeant Juan Flores left their car on the grass with no apologies. Point of fact in Beryl’s mind was, they don’t even know they’ve parked improperly. Tells me they don’t do yard maintenance at home.

  Since the two detectives did not approach her first, she waited as they discussed the situation with the officers and then went over to the ambulance. The man by this time had been loaded onto a stretcher and was ready to be taken to the hospital. He must be alive. They didn’t cover his face. Thanks, angels out there. Protect him.

  The male detective glanced over at Beryl and she felt certain Officer Shaughnessy was discussing her with him. Beryl could not hide a glimmer of distrust on her face just as the woman detective also gazed in her direction. She immediately felt a meeting of the minds reinforced by the woman detective’s walking towards her with a greeting of, “You must be Ms. Beryl Kent. I understand you found the man in your yard. I’m Lieutenant Petra Aylewood-Locke and my partner is Sergeant Juan Flores. Could you tell us about it?”

  Beryl straightened her form, as her father would insist should happen in the event one was under the auspices of authority figures. She thought, I’m fifty-seven years old and I still do what my dad told me to do, not always what my mom desired. She’d want me to play the poor little girl needing rescue game when with police of any kind. I guess we are forever our parents’ children, whether we’re going along with or rejecting their suggestions.

  In an attempt to relay all the information, she had, Beryl gave a non-emotional response addressing the rather shocking tale. She felt quite proud of herself for not sharing her first emotional reactions to seeing the bleeding man as he fell on her. Sergeant Flores asked, “Tell me again how this man fell on you. You have a great deal of blood on you and your face, Ms. Kent.”

  Beryl described the man’s condition and the moment of impact when he reached out to her with what she suggested was a motion for her to help him. The Lieutenant asked why would he come to her house. Had he been there before? Beryl was testy in her response, saying, “Lieutenant, why would you ask me that when I said I didn’t know him. If he’d been here before I would have known him. As far as I’m concerned it is a strange situation. He came across from the D’allasandro’s yard direction. They’ve been in Florida for the duration of this virus scare. No one but workmen have been at his home for months. Further, if you looked at the man, he was not a workman unless they’re dressing in eight-hundred dollars suits and four-hundred-dollar shoes now.”

  Sergeant Flores asked, “How did the man get in your back yard? There is a fence between the two houses for what looks to me like a hundred feet. Would he have come through your neighbor’s house to get in the rear yard? Is there a fence on the other side? Could he have come in as we came in?”

  Beryl Kent showed a distinct displeasure at their questions saying, “Sergeant, you cannot get blood out of a stone. I saw what I saw and only what I saw. The man walked from the direction of the D’allasandro’s when I saw him, not from any other direction. If he came in through my access area in the condition he was in, you should be able to find blood drippings. As to a fence on the other side of my neighbor’s home, there is one and you should check it out. The next home after Charlie D’allasandro’s is a quarter mile away. The fence does not extend all the way between the two properties.

  “A better question is, why didn’t this man stay on the paved road when a car going by could stop to help? Why choose to go over grassy areas and avoid all the circular gardens my neighbor has and work around my out buildings. There is not a direct route here. He would have had to walk quite a ways. If you had a look at him you must have noticed he has extra weight on him. I don’t see him as an exercise freak.”

  Juan laughed and said, “You’re a detective, now, Ms. Kent.”

  Clearly annoyed, Beryl said, “Sergeant, I am simply stating the obvious. I observe and try to remember what I’ve seen and what it could mean. If that’s being a detective, I will add it to my accomplishments.”

  Petra Aylewood-Locke glanced at Juan wondering the why behind his attitude toward the lady thinking, even I know Beryl Kent is not to be taken lightly. I’ll bet my bars, she was an English teacher, but must be a wealthy one to afford this home.

  Petra asked, “Do you have a dog? An officer noticed animal footprints near the woods. Did you hear barking before you saw the man?”

  Beryl said, “Do you know the man’s name? I saw you checking his pockets and taking some paper out?”

  Juan said, “You didn’t answer the lieutenant’s question, Ms. Kent.”

  “No, I didn’t and you didn’t answer mine. Detectives, this is a two-way street. I’m perfectly willing to give you answers if I have them. Is it too much to ask for the name of a man who almost died in my backyard?”

  Preventing Juan from giving a flip answer, Petra said, “We don’t know his name. The paperwork in his pocket relates to a printout on some stocks with no identification. Now, do you have a dog?”

  Beryl Kent answered, “No, I’m waiting for a rescue from Tennessee. My dog ‘Eureka’ crossed the rainbow bridge two months ago. I’ve only lived in this house for nine months. And no, there are no dogs close by other than a fenced in pair of greyhounds in a house half mile up the road. All the houses were built on enormous acreage for a suburban setting. As to my neighbor, Frank, when he is at home, he never is dressed formally like this bleeding man. I’ve never seen ‘suits’ like this around his home. I heard no barking to answer your other question. I was first attracted by the rustling of shrubs and branches thinking there was a baby deer who has been visiting my acreage for the last week.”

  Juan responded, “Could the man have come from the woods? You didn’t actually see him coming from your neighbor’s area, did you?”

  Beryl said, “
I did not say the man came from my neighbor’s yard, I said I saw him coming from that direction. How could I know where he was coming from? I saw him for ten or fifteen seconds before he fell on me.”

  Petra intervened commenting, “Sergeant Flores is just trying to pin down exactly what you said. Often, witnesses know more than what they say. Not in your case, I’m guessing. Can you think of any other unusual happening today before the man came into your view, such as a noise?”

  A calmer Beryl appeared to consider the question and nodded in the affirmative. “Yes, twenty minutes before, I heard a helicopter overhead. I’ve never heard one during my time in this house. Further, we are not in the airpath for planes here. Maybe it was going to Baystate Hospital with an accident victim, they have a helicopter pad on their roof.”

  The detectives asked if they could take pictures of her. Beryl was accommodating. Without their asking she said, “I suppose you want my clothes, I’ll go in and take them off. Lieutenant, I imagine you’ll want to accompany me. Do you have an evidence bag for them?”

  Juan thought, this lady must watch forensic files on some TV show. Talk about knowing a bit too much. Maybe she’s practicing to be a female Sherlock Holmes.

  Later, after the excitement died down in Beryl’s meditation area and the uniforms left after taping off the area, Beryl entered her yard and attempted to reclaim it for herself. Wandering through the existing opening in the rear, she walked to the woods. She found scuff marks in the soil about four or five feet in behind a large bush. There’d been a light rain during the night, just enough moisture to allow a tread mark from a shoe. She took a photo and tied her scarf to the bush. She thought, I will call Lieutenant Aylewood-Locke and forward her this find. There is no blood, but someone was here. She said her name was Petra. My father always liked that name as his dad was named Peter.

  Beryl looked at the photo of the bleeding man she’d taken. Unfortunately, she only had a side view in the photo as he was lying on his belly with his head to the side, but it helped her reconstruct the facial features she saw for an instant when he came into view. He had a good face, strong, but with extra weight that would take him out of the GQ profile for wealthy available businessmen. He is handsome in my mind, but I think it’s because he has a solid and reliable look I have always valued in a man. Even when he looked at me and fell on me, he was afraid but was continuing to strive for life. I hope he lives. I don’t know what he was into, but I like him. He may have been robbed since his wallet and cell were missing. The police will tell me nothing. I’ll ask around. I feel obligated. He chose my land to collapse.