Five O’Clock Twist

Chapter 3

3

Rebecca sat in the Emergency unit’s waiting room at San Francisco General.

After finding Kiki unconscious, Rebecca had called 9-1-1, followed by a call to the police, expressing her belief that the apartment was a crime scene for a robbery or an attempted murder. The blood beneath Kiki’s head was fresh, and the front door lay wide open. She suspected the attacker must have run out when she pounded on the back door.

When the paramedics arrived, Rebecca grabbed Kiki’s purse and cell phone knowing she would need Kiki’s health insurance and social security numbers, if not her credit cards. She also picked up her own handbag with her badge and cell phone. Waving the badge, she climbed into the ambulance to go to the hospital with Kiki. One look at her expression and the paramedics didn’t try to stop her.

Once at the hospital, as the nurses whisked Kiki off to the trauma center to be worked on, Rebecca caught her breath and phoned Kiki’s son, Esteban. From what she and the paramedics could see, Kiki was unconscious as a result of something having been used to strike her several times. They feared her skull had been fractured, and that such a blow could lead to potentially fatal bleeding and swelling of the brain.

Rebecca was distraught about her friend’s condition, but managed to sound calm and assuring for Esteban’s sake. As she sat waiting for him to arrive, and waiting for word from the doctor’s about Kiki’s condition, she couldn’t help but remember when she first met the boy as a gangling teenager of sixteen. Kiki once told her he’d developed a major crush on her, but once he started dating girls his own age, the crush had vanished as quickly as it had begun. Now twenty-two years old, Esteban was a recent graduate from San Francisco State University in computer sciences. He lived with a couple of roommates, working as a barista until a decent job came along in the tech industry. In the meantime, Kiki gave him money when needed.

Esteban found Rebecca in the waiting room. She had not yet been given information about Kiki’s condition from any doctor. After talking to Rebecca, he had called his older sister, Sierra, who was living in San Jose. She was now driving to the hospital as well, and should be there in a couple of hours.

All they could do was to wait. After about five minutes of waiting, Esteban decided to avoid conversation and find solace on his cell phone. He had turned into a handsome young man, Rebecca noted, with long black hair and a surprisingly muscular build. She knew Kiki worried about him not being able to find a good job and was afraid he might give up looking if his jobless situation went on too long. The last thing Kiki wanted was for him to decide that making fancy lattes and living on his mother’s dime was all that life would ever hold for him.

Rebecca found the latest copy of People and was about to sit back down to read it when, from the corner of her eye, she noticed movement. She looked up to see Richie storm towards her like someone hopped up on too many of Esteban’s high-octane espressos.

“Why are you out here?” he raged as he neared. His dark eyes studied her, his expression simultaneously relieved and angry. “Don’t tell me you’re still waiting to see a doctor? What’s wrong with this place?”

The others in the waiting area looked up at the handsome but irritated fellow wearing a black suit, white shirt, and unknotted black bow tie. From his clothes, Rebecca knew he had come here straight from Big Caesar’s, but she wondered why. She took his arm and pulled him away. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

He studied her with confused eyes. “What am I…? I heard about you, about the ambulance. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know yet. The doctor’s haven’t told me a thing. But there was so much blood. I know head wounds bleed a lot, but—”

“Wait. Whose blood?”

Now Rebecca was the confused one. “Kiki’s. She was attacked in her home.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Christ Almighty!”

She noticed that people nearby were staring as if trying to hear what was being said, and even the Esteban stirred a bit. “Let’s go outside.”

They stepped onto a small outside patio set up primarily for smokers. There, he put his arms around her. “God! I was afraid …” He pulled her close.

“Afraid of what?” she asked, breaking away.

Dark eyes met hers. “I left work early and decided to stop by your place. I haven’t seen you much lately. But I no sooner got out of my car than that old fart who lives next door and sits at the window all day long stuck his head out and told me you weren’t home. He said you went off in an ambulance. I came straight to Emergency and found you sitting there.” He looked her up and down. “Apparently unhurt and”—he grinned—“looking good.”

She glanced down at the fluffy slippers, sweat pants, and bulky top she’d changed into after work. “If you were worried, why didn’t you phone me?” she asked.

“If I was worried? If? I was told you were on your way to the hospital in an ambulance. I didn’t think they’d let you chat on your cell phone. It so happened, I was scared half to death by the news.” His lips tight, he paced in a circle, one hand on the back of his head. “For cryin’ out loud, Rebecca! Who knows what could have happened to you? What with the crazy people—killers—you chase after! Of course I was worried.”

She tried to look dismayed, but despite her earlier thoughts about possibly, or probably, ending their relationship, she was glad to see him. And the thought that he had dropped everything and rushed to her side thinking she might be hurt, got to her. As she looked at him, she could all but feel her demeanor, her stiff expression, soften, and even she could hear the warmth in her voice as she said to him, “I don’t know what to do about you. But thank you for coming.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured. As they half-sat on the balcony railing around the patio, he wrapped an arm around her back. “So what’s going on with Kiki? What happened to her?”

She didn’t move away. After feeling so scared and worried about Kiki, she appreciated the comfort he offered. Somehow, just having him there made her feel more confident the doctor might have good news. She knew it was ridiculous to feel that way, but there it was.

When she finished her story, he stood upright and paced. He was never one to sit still for long. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to harm Kiki,” he said. Then, his face filled with worry, he added, “Are you sure she was the victim? What if someone was looking for you?”

She folded her arms. “Well, that’s reassuring.”

He flung his arms wide. “I’m not here to reassure,” he bellowed. “I want to be sure you’re safe. That you’ve considered all the possibilities. And Kiki being mistaken for you is a very likely one, if you ask me.”

She shook her head. “I’m five-foot-ten, blond, and in good physical shape if I say so myself. Kiki’s five-foot-two, with long, black hair and a roundish body that never saw the inside of a gym. I simply do not see anyone mistaking the two of us.”

“Unless it was someone paid off to go after you. You know your apartment is well hidden. What if it was someone who was told to go after the woman who lived in that building?”

“Just stop, Richie. I don’t need you to make me any more paranoid than I already am.”

“You aren’t nearly paranoid enough,” he shouted. “Look, I’ll get Shay and Vito to look into—”

“No, you won’t!” she said, wondering why, with him, she so often ending up in a shouting match. It was another reason this relationship was for the birds. As for Shay, she was sure he was a former CIA sniper, a former hit man, or possibly both, before he started working for Richie. And Vito—although he was a sweetheart—was also, at best, muscle.

She drew in her breath and tried to calm down. “I’m sure it wasn’t a mistake. Someone went after Kiki. Not me.”

“You know it was no burglar,” he said. “When confronted by a homeowner, they run. They don’t bash anyone’s head in.”

“Unless the guy was crazy or on drugs,” she added. “But all the lights were on. Anyone would know the flat wasn’t empty.”

“So if whoever broke in wasn’t trying to rob the place and wasn’t after you, then going after Kiki with a hammer or whatever, hitting her in the head that way, leaves only one conclusion. Someone wanted her dead.”

She didn’t even want to think about what he was suggesting. “I can’t imagine that.”

“Any idea how he got into her flat?” Richie asked.

“I don’t know.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and waited until her gaze met his. “I’m sorry to say,” his voice smooth as melted butter, “but it still makes more sense that you might have been the target.”

She studied him a long moment, then took a deep breath and stepped back, breaking his hold. She put her hands on her hips. He was upsetting her on several, very different, levels. “All this tells me is that I’d better go back home and talk to the cops who showed up at her house to see what they’re finding.”

“What cops? No one was there when I arrived.” He looked at her a long moment with the same worried, unhappy expression he’d worn since he first showed up at the hospital.

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What do you mean, no cops? It’s a crime scene.”

“Oh?”

Frowning, she called Bradley Frick, the landlord. He had been talking to the police when she left for the hospital with Kiki. Bradley confirmed what Richie told her—the police had already come and gone. No one was there, and no one was watching the place.

Bradley did not sound happy about any of it.

She put in a quick call to the patrol officers who had first shown up. After talking to them, she was even more disgusted.

“Great, just great,” she said to Richie. “The uniforms at the scene called it in to the robbery detail. But since it appeared that nothing was actually taken, Robbery is questioning if it’s really their case. Maybe it’s a simple assault, they said, which could be handled by Central Station.”

“Do they have the manpower?”

“Not as much as Robbery.” Her shoulders slumped. “I know what’s going on. Our new police captain is monitoring crime statistics and clearance rates down to the performance of individual inspectors. Word is out that each unit needs to improve the clearance rates of their cases, which means everyone only wants cases that are easy to solve.”

“Bureaucrats,” Richie muttered.

“I’ve got to go back home and see what’s going on,” she said, and then remembered that she didn’t have her car. She glanced at Richie. “Um…”

“No car?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I didn’t want to leave Kiki.”

They went back into the waiting room and she gave Esteban her phone number, making him promise to call her as soon as he was given any news about his mother’s condition. He nodded and returned to Twitter.

“Let’s go,” Richie said, draping his arm across her shoulders and giving a light squeeze of support. “I’ll drive you.”