Beryl Kent and the Bleeding Man Read online

  2

  The Area Search

  MCU Captain Rudy Beauregard listened to the report from Lieutenant Aylewood-Lock on the bleeding man on his cell. Rudy had been incommunicado while suffering the indignities of a scope exam. He escaped the careful eye of the receptionist after telling her he was waiting for a ride, but didn’t wait. The woman would call his wife Mona and he’d get hell later for this little fib. He never told Mona he had this medical appointment. It would just jar her nerves. Hell, that’s a lie, nothing jars Mona’s nerves.

  Needing a strong coffee, he stopped at the village coffee shop called ‘the Village Coffee Shop’ thinking, it’s why I call it the village coffee shop. We don’t have a village, I don’t even think there was a village here two hundred years ago. The Versed they knocked me out with must be affecting my brain cells. I told Petra and Juan to stay with the victim. Lilly and Bill will organize the search. Bobby and Mason will take uniforms and visit the neighbors. It’s probably an accident. Could be they’ll find a car against a tree. Wallet and cell are missing so it’s an auto accident and he leaves everything on the car seat or it’s something else. Strange, he wouldn’t stay on the road. Juan thought this lady, whose garden the body landed on, was off. Petra says Juan is uncomfortable with literalists like Beryl Kent. She couldn’t understand why, since he’s engaged to Sergeant Lilly Tagliano who heads the outspoken list of ladies.

  Meanwhile, Beauregard inhaled the shop’s intoxicating aroma sighing with delight before his tongue tasted any brew. His choice for a restart to his day was a double latte. When his nerve endings signaled his body to come into alignment with his brain as if they were tin soldiers set up by kids, he was ready for action. He left the shop heading over to Yellow Brook Dingle. It was a short drive when he entered large columns with an overhead arch labeled, Yellow Brook. He drove for two miles before he hit number 24 and the home took his breath away. He thought, I knew this was a ritzy area, and we have quite a few of them in West Side. This is not a neighborhood! You really can’t see one house from the next-door neighbor’s window. And we don’t have movie stars here.

  Beauregard pulled into a paved area to the right of the home, carefully staying on the pavement. He saw marks in the grass where a vehicle had gone beyond it. He shook his head in disappointment muttering, “Juan and Petra, neither one has ever done lawn work. It surely is their car that did the damage, way over here to the right of where the ambulance would have parked.”

  A uniform, who was parked in front of the home, approached him and informed him the detectives were canvassing the area on this Dingle road, crossing over to the road behind called Yellow Brook Trail. “Silly name, ‘Trail’ Captain, the road’s as wide as a highway.”

  The Captain asked if the owner of the home was inside. He was disappointed to discover she had left in her Volvo SUV. The officer explained, “While I was out front with the detectives, I could see her walking all over the rear of the property as if she was looking for something. She took some pictures. Next thing I know, Captain, she said she needed groceries. With this kind of house, I thought a housekeeper would do that. She’s a cool one.”

  Rudy reclaimed his sedan, and went searching the area for his detectives. Within a few minutes, he saw their car on the parallel street called ‘Trail.’ Waiting for his detectives on the edge of a half-mile driveway to a practically hidden mansion, Rudy sat back and enjoyed the beautiful weather. He found himself dozing off until there was a knock on his window. A woman was saying, “Are you all right, Sir? Do you want me to call someone?”

  The Captain appeared totally flustered and took a few seconds to scroll down his window. “No, Ma’am, I’ve had a bit of a day so far and I’m embarrassed to say I just caught a few winks.”

  The two took a measure of each other and the woman grabbed the floor first. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your sleep, but no one sits outside these houses and naps other than a few landscapers. Go back to sleep. I’m so sorry for interrupting your nap.”

  She said this with a smile he decided was breathtaking. Rudy thought, what’s she doing here, walking on a street with houses no less than a three-quarters of a mile apart? If she’s been strolling, maybe she has seen someone who doesn’t belong in the area. If she’d seen the bleeding man, she surely would have done something about it, unless she’s involved.”

  After getting out of his car, Beauregard questioned, “I appreciate your community service and watch, let me introduce myself. I’m Captain Rudy Beauregard with the West Side Police. I wonder if you could help me by answering a few questions? For instance, have you seen any unusual activity in this area today?”

  “Captain Beauregard, I’ve read about you. Let me introduce myself. I’m Beryl Kent and I live on the next street over. Perhaps the happening in my yard has brought you here, although it did not put me to sleep, I can tell you.”

  Jolted by her statement, Beauregard felt compelled to explain himself, something he did not ordinarily feel was part of his role as police. “Ms. Kent, I was waiting for my detectives to return from their interview in the home connected to this long driveway. But, I am interested in the event you spoke about. As I said before, have you seen anything untoward as you walked over here after the event?”

  “No, I did not. The only ‘untoward’ as you say event was in my yard. This neighborhood is quiet as I’m certain you have noticed. Earlier today, I did hear a helicopter which I thought was unusual, perhaps odd. I don’t remember ever hearing one before. I told your detectives about it. What I did not tell your detectives was I found evidence of someone in the shrubs at the edge of the wood in my yard after they left it. I marked it for the police and was going to call the station later today.”

  The Captain asked, “Why didn’t you tell the uniform stationed there, before you left for your groceries? Where is your car, Ms. Kent?”

  Beryl laughed. “You’ve already read the reports, I see. Have you been to my home?”

  “Yes. Where is your car? If your car is near, why are you walking?”

  “Captain, and please call me Beryl, I’m investigating other possible routes the man might have taken to end up in my backyard or others may have taken. As one of your detectives so diligently pointed out I could be wrong about my determining the direction the bleeding man came from, particularly since I saw him before acting for less than thirty seconds. Do I have to explain any of my other actions? Am I under scrutiny?”

  “No, not at all. I’m most interested in how to get to your yard from here. Especially since you’ve pointed out there may be an alternate route to your place. Let’s walk. You can show me what you have seen or if not yet, what you were interested in viewing?”

  Beryl quipped, “My, you are quick. I was given to understand you were slow to comment or move.”

  Grumbling, Beauregard said, “At times maybe, but not when it’s important to move fast.”

  The two cut across the street to the large woods backing Beryl’s home. They walked horizontally for about fifteen feet before discovering an old narrow path into the greens. The further they went in, the wider it became. A small clearing had a bunch of rocks in a surround. They discussed its possible use by kids. There was evidence of drug paraphernalia. They continued until the path stopped at an old stone wall. Beryl laughed saying, “I just love New Englanders with their history everywhere, just like in England, just not as much history. You see, Captain, all these houses were developed on farmland, often having stone walls to define the fields. The building contractors tend to leave them intact. I know this wall. It marks the edge of my property. If we climb over and head toward the left a little, there is another pathway. It ends about ten feet from my tended yard.”

  And so, it did. The two followed the pathway taking a few steps to the right when they saw Beryl’s yard edge. There was the space located behind a holly bush invisible to those in the yard. Beryl showed the marking of the space and her pho
tos on her camera. She said, “Captain, I am certain someone was watching while I awaited the ambulance. I had that feeling and looked around. I couldn’t see anyone. Later I walked the wood edge and found this area. You can see what I saw.”

  “So, Ms. Kent, what are your conclusions related to your ‘bleeding man.’”

  Beryl inspected the Captain for insincerity in his manner. Finding none, she answered, “He could not have come down this path. There would be blood. There isn’t. Therefore, we must find his path. But someone else came down this path and watched us. My conclusion is he was interested in the fate of the ‘bleeding man.’ I don’t think it’s unreasonable to think so, do you, Captain?”

  Without giving her an answer, Beauregard insisted they walk the area to look for blood. He seemed surprised when she suggested they spread out at arms-length to ensure good coverage of the ground. It took a while before they spotted blood on a bush halfway onto the neighbor’s grounds at the edge of the woods. There behind the bush was another short trail leading up to the road where they had met. Beryl asked, “Why no blood on my yard, but ample amounts on that bush and just a few on bushes on the path? I saw none on the path itself.”

  Beauregard queried, “Beryl, do you remember where most of the blood was on the man’s body? Was it higher up?”

  Thinking his words over, he thought, I have never called a witness by first name unless previously known to me. This Beryl does have a way of ingratiating herself. I’ll have to be more careful, but for now, I’m stuck with calling her by her first name.

  Beryl was thoughtful for a short time, finally saying, “I’ve forgotten most of the anatomy course I took in college, but he bled from the neck and chest, I think. At first, I thought he had a knife through his heart, there was so much bleeding. I thought more about it and decided he had a puncture injury that bled and stopped. The injury was disturbed and bled again. If he had what I learned in science, a hemothorax, he’d bleed and die within two hours. Either way, I think the injury was less than an hour before he ended in my yard.”

  “And you think he came from the area where I was parked, Beryl?”

  Her nod was enough. He told her thank you and headed back to the trail to his car. Surprisingly to him, she followed him. When questioned, she said, “Captain, together we’ve come up with some ideas. It’s logical for me to help you search grounds on the ‘Trail’ where you parked. I think I’m entitled to follow my nose in a case where a man almost died bleeding in my arms. Also, I have to retrieve my car.”

  Beauregard did not look at her as he quickly moved through the path asserting, “Ms. Kent, this is an investigation for professionals, not for amateurs. We don’t know yet who’s involved. It could be an accident. Please go home. If I learn anything, I will call you.”

  “Captain Beauregard, what kind of detective are you and do you think I’m stupid? First, you refer to me in a formal manner after using my first name, as you try to exorcise me from your diligent inquiry into the cause of the ‘bleeding man’s’ injuries. You will never call me, you would have a subordinate call me with nothing important to say. I can join you or I can work on my own. I have an interest in why this man would fall on my property and I will pursue it.”

  Detectives Aylewood-Locke and Flores waved to them, forcing a disruption in their conversation. Beauregard thought, I’m kind of stuck with her now. I’ll go along and after today won’t deal with Ms. Kent or Beryl or whatever. She is way too interested in this; what is her background?

  Petra and Juan asked to speak with Beauregard alone. Beryl did not challenge and the Captain moved fifteen feet away to assure privacy. Sergeant Flores went first. “What’s she doing tagging along, Captain? Did she capture you at the scene? She is one intrusive lady.”

  Petra laughed. “Anytime someone doesn’t stay in her place, and notice, Captain, I said ‘her,’ Juan has a problem, but I don’t think ‘intrusive’ is a bad word. She is intrusive. I just don’t know enough about this Ms. Kent to know if intrusive is good or bad.”

  Beauregard impatiently responded, “Enough about the intrusive lady. Who lives here and what, if anything, has gone on in this area today?”

  Petra insisted on describing their interview with Monsieur Rene DesCartes. “If you can believe that name. I’m always distrustful of famous names used by people living in oversized, glamorous homes. He does have what sounds like a legitimate French accent, but he sure doesn’t look like a mathematician like DesCartes. He claims he lives here half a year, but this is October. I’d move back to the South of France at this time If I were him. Another thing, Captain, he saw us with masks and didn’t put one on. When I asked him to, he said, ‘You should not worry. I have fresh air cycled in with returns and filters. They constantly clean the air. It is like being outside. You do not need masks in here, detectives from the police.’ Juan asked him why he would call us detectives from the police and what other kinds of detectives would be here asking questions about a local accident. He gave us a smile and told us some bull about there being all kinds of detectives in local, provincial, and federal areas in all countries. And he just wanted us to know what he understood about us being local police. I had to step on Juan’s toes to prevent him from divulging more.”

  “Lieutenant, enough. What have you learned about him or anything related going on today?”

  “Mr. DesCartes has not heard anything unusual today. He said he had some business conducted in his home with visitors and perhaps wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around the area. We did have rain last night, Captain, and his driveway is cleaner than my mother’s kitchen floor and you know my mother. I asked him how his visitors came, whether by Uber or their own cars. He said they were flown in by helicopter and directed us to a pad in the back. Since Ms. Kent said she heard a helicopter before she saw the man, but did not remember hearing one frequently or maybe ever, I asked about the frequency of the use of his pad. He got a bit squirrely and asked why it was important. When I didn’t respond, he said, ‘It’s there for my convenience for when I need it. How often is not important.’ I don’t like the man, Captain.”

  Beauregard caught Beryl leaning forward and wondered if perhaps she’d heard Petra’s conversation, given Petra’s animation concerning her dislike for Mr. DesCartes. That woman is very interested in every aspect of this case, defies convention at every corner. She’s going to run with this information if she’s heard it. I hope she’s not a publicity junkie and will call in news reporters. I don’t think so. I think she can’t help herself. She is just plain intrusive.

  Beauregard suggested the detectives look for blood spatter related to what Beryl and he had uncovered. He caught Juan smiling and said, “She is dogged and difficult to separate from, Sergeant.”

  Juan laughed. “I believe you. She’s going nowhere. What do you think, Captain, we start at the helicopter pad and work backwards? You think maybe the man was attacked when he got off the helicopter and was able to flee?”

  “No, Sergeant, I actually think he may have jumped out of the helicopter when it was flying low to land and landed on some hard bushes that pierced his chest. Hell, I don’t know. It’s just a thought. If it has value you’ll find a mess in some bushes within two hundred feet of the pad. In which direction I don’t know. Try this side first and maybe in a part of the wood near where Ms. Kent and I traveled.”

  3

  Who is the Man?

  Back at the station, Sergeant Lilly Tagliano joined Lieutenant Mason Smith in the search for the ‘bleeding man’s’ identity. Automated Fingerprinting Identification System (AFIS) did not give out a matching print. Lilly said, “The man is in his late fifties or early sixties. AFIS only has military prints for after 2000, he’d have had to be a career man to have his prints. We rolled it over to Next Generation Identification Photo System (NGI). Mason, he’s not a known offender. He didn’t look like an offender from the photos. Looks more like a wealthy bu
sinessman, high end clothes and a little girth, although not too much. He lives the good life. I have calls out on the clothes, but have to hit an appointment at the dentist in ten minutes. Will you take the calls on my line for a couple of hours?”

  “I’m not Juan, Lilly. I can say no to you. I just happen to be a nice guy today, go ahead.”

  Mason worked the phones for Lilly for two hours. All the man’s labels were from various high-end Florida, Atlanta, and New York menswear stores. He searched the internet and found most of the stores had free direct ship for all, but custom fitted suits were picked up. Mason growled to himself and thought, hell, with the prices listed on some of this stuff, it’s a wonder they don’t hand deliver. Socks are listed as $30 - $50. Monique gets my socks at COSTCO. And the price of ties in these places. I’d never wear one if I had to pay that much, then again, I rarely wear a tie. I don’t have to impress anyone with what I wear. Am I getting sloppy? I was a cool dude in high school. My mom had the best clothes for me and now I don’t even look at what I throw on. I’ll have a talk with Monique. She’ll set me straight if I’m becoming a bum with my dress.

  Mason received fruitful calls from Canali’s Boutique in NYC and Moda 404 Men’s Boutique in Atlanta. The ‘bleeding man’s tie was unique and identified as sold to twenty-five men from the NYC store. The shirt in its stated size was more common, and had been sold to eighty customers. The stores gave the names and contact numbers of the purchasers. Mason thought, I hope his wife or girlfriend didn’t buy them or if so, she bought both. I’m looking for a common purchaser.