The Man Everyone Loved 3c2d2v

The Man Everyone Loved

By J. R. Lindermuth

Copyright 2011 by J. R. Lindermuth

Cover Copyright 2011 by Dara England and Untreed Reads Publishing

The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold, reproduced or transmitted by any means in any form or given away to other people without specific permission from the author and/or publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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The Man Everyone Loved

By J. R. Lindermuth

“Who’s he?” Officer Flora Vastine asked, jerking her chin at the man slouched in a vinyl-upholstered armchair opposite the bed. She wrinkled her nose at the mingled odors of medicinal and antiseptic compounds, urine and dried blood permeating the room. Flora hated visiting these places under the best of circumstances, though she chided herself often over that callous attitude.

The man raised dark eyes that flashed behind thick lenses, giving her a contemptuous look. “Sure, talk about me as if I ain’t here,” he said. “That’s what they always do.” His gaze shifted to the attendant who had escorted her to the room.

Flora turned away from the man and glanced at the body stretched out on the bed. The elderly woman was naked except for the pillow covering her face. Her hands were on her flaccid breasts and her legs were spread apart, exposing white-haired genitals.

Flora took another look at the man. He appeared to be in his late sixties, early seventies. A grandfatherly looking man, bald except for thin gray locks that fell over his ears along the side. The dark eyes deep in hollows behind his glasses. Lips sucked in over missing teeth. His skin sallow and wrinkled where it was exposed from the cheap institutional pajamas he wore. He had no slippers and the nails on his bare feet were yellow and twisted. “I’m the one found her,” he said.

“Yeah,” the attendant said, “he found her.”

“Why is the pillow still over her face?” Flora asked.

“Uh…I didn’t want to touch nothin’ till you seen it. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

Too much CSI on TV, Flora thought. “You called 9-1-1?”

The orderly, a skinny young man who kept scratching at a pimply chin, shook his head. “I called Doctor Pratchett. You know—to see if she was dead.” And he tilted his head toward the body on the bed.

“And where is he?”

“She. Said Mrs. Yost was dead, told me to stay here with them…”

“Them?”

“Mrs. Yost and him—Mr. Fertig. Then she went…I guess to call 9-1-1. You came. She didn’t come back.”

“I’ll have to talk to her, too.”

The door opened then and a stout, matronly looking woman carrying a clipboard came in. “I’m Isabelle Pratchett. I had to see to some other patients. You are?”

“Officer Flora Vastine, Swatara Creek Police. What time was the body found, doctor?”

Dr. Pratchett glanced at her clipboard. “It was 10:45 when Tony called me. He was making his rounds when he found her—and Mr. Fertig.”

Flora turned to the orderly. “Mr. Fertig was in the room…?”

“Ask me, not them,” the old man growled. “Yeah. I found her. It rattled me and I sat down here. That’s when Tony came in.”

“Why were you in her room?”

The old man smiled. A lopsided grin exposing a mouthful of bad teeth. “Now why do you think I’d be comin’ in a woman’s room in the middle of the night? We might be old, but we ain’t dead.” His eyes shifted to the body on the bed. “Well…”

“You came for sex?”

“That surprise you, missy? Yeah. Me and Millie had a relationship.”

“Mr. Fertig…” the doctor started.

“Come on, Doc. You know about these things. It might take us longer, but some of us still have our needs. How much other pleasure we got in this overpriced warehouse for old people?” His eyes shifted to the body again. “Can’t you cover her up? It’s not decent, her exposed like that. She wouldn’t have liked it.”

Flora nodded. “Why don’t you go back to your room, Mr. Fertig. I’ll come and talk to you when I’m done here.”

“Yes,” Dr. Pratchett said. “That’s a good idea. Tony, why don’t you take…”

“I can go on my own,” Fertig said, pulling himself up from the chair. “I don’t need that puke to show me the way.”

“Go with him,” Pratchett told the orderly. “Just to make sure he gets there all right. Then finish your rounds. Go to my office when you’re done. The officer can finish talking to you there.”

Flora pulled out her cell and made a call when they’d gone. “Have to get the forensics people on scene,” she explained to the doctor. “I’ve just got to get the preliminary details from you and the others.”

Dr. Pratchett nodded. “Are you comfortable talking to me here? We could go to my office.”

Flora shook her head. “Just a few more questions here. You examined her. The pillow—I assume…”

“Most likely used to suffocate her. There are no other obvious injuries or cause of death. She may have been sexually assaulted—either before or after. Your pathologist can make that assessment.”

“Do you think she had other lovers?”

The doctor shrugged. “As Mr. Fertig said, they have little pleasure in their lives. If any of them take lovers, it’s not something they’re likely to confide in me.”

“What about your staff? Do you think this orderly or anyone else might…”

“We screen our staff very carefully,” Dr. Pratchett said with a scowl. “Tony may not be the brightest, but I wouldn’t suspect him of attacking elderly women. He’s really a very caring boy.”

“I’m sure he is. It’s just a question that had to be asked. You understand, doctor?”

The forensics crew and coroner’s team arrived then. Flora spent a little more

time with the doctor and the orderly. When she asked for directions to Mr. Fertig’s room Tony offered to escort her. She told him she preferred to go on her own.

* * *

Creekside Rest was the only nursing facility located within the bounds of the town of Swatara Creek. There was another out in the township, which Flora had never visited. It was several years since she’d last been here and that occasion proved no less unsettling. An elderly aunt of her father was in the last throes of a fatal illness. She’d come with her father for a final visit. The memory of that pathetic time clouded her emotions and filled her with despair.

Fertig was waiting for her, seated in a chair the exact twin of the one in the other room. He was smoking and the stale nicotine stench of the room cloyed in her nostrils and made her stomach queasy.

“Are you allowed to smoke in here?” she asked.

Fertig gave her another of those lopsided grins. “One more of those little pleasures we’re not supposed to have but take anyway.”

Flora Vastine stood over him, gnawing at her lower lip. The room was permeated with the same distressing odors as the rest of the facility and it made her a little queasy.

“There’s another chair over there at the desk,” Fertig said, jerking his head in that direction. “Take a load off your feet.”

Flora pulled up the chair and sat opposite him. It was a small room and their knees were almost touching. The cigarette smoke burned her eyes and Flora squinted.

Seeing her discomfort, Fertig snuffed out his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray and waved smoke away with one hand. “It was awful seein’ her like that. Every time I close my eyes I see her. It was terrible, wasn’t it? You ever see anything like that before?”

“I’ve seen some terrible things. But it was bad. Yes, sir.”

Fertig squinted at her, the dark eyes darting back and forth behind the thick lenses. “No offense to you, missy, but you’re mighty young ain’t you?”

“I-uh-I’ve had some experience.”

“Uh-huh. And you think I done it, doncha?” Color rose in his cheeks as Fertig glowered at her.

“Mr. Fertig…”

“Doncha?”

“You were found in her room,” Flora stated. “You it you had a prior relationship. You…”

“Yeah, yeah. But I didn’t do it. I never coulda hurt her.”

“Why did you happen to go to her room tonight? Did you have a planned…”

“Rendezvous?” Fertig asked. “No.” He exhaled with a snort. “Sometimes we did. Not tonight. Some nights I can’t sleep and I go wanderin’ around. Saw her light was on and I went in. God, I never expected that.”

“You found her like that,” Flora said. “With the pillow over her face.”

“Naked. Exposed. Like she was some whore. Which she wasn’t, you know. She was a decent, proud person. She never would have liked being…” His left hand quivered. He covered it with the right, forcing it still.

A clock ticked somewhere in the room. She heard muffled voices as someone walked by, headed down the hall. A door slammed elsewhere in the facility.

“Do you know, was she seeing anyone besides you?”

Fertig shrugged. “She might have been. If she was, she didn’t tell me. Didn’t

matter.”

“But if someone else were. Jealousy. It could take the onus off you.”

“Onus. I like that word. Not one you hear every day. Jealousy? Yeah. Could be. But maybe you’re thinking I’m the one was jealous. You’re still lookin’ at me, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I know. But you’re thinkin’ it, too,” Fertig said. “Look. No offense, sweetie. I don’t blame you for lookin’ at me. I was you, I’d probably be doin’ the same. Now, will you do something for me?”

“What’s that, sir?”

“Like I said. No offense. I’m not questioning your ability. But I’d like to talk to Hetrick.”

“You want to talk to the chief?” Flora stiffened. When people said they weren’t questioning your ability, that’s exactly what they were doing. She was new enough on the job to take offense at Fertig’s request. She respected Hetrick. He had interceded to get her hired. Flora owed him. Still, the girl was confident in her ability to do the job right.

“He ain’t chief no more,” Fertig said.

“I know. Just habit. People call him that.”

“Can you get him out here?”

“Now?”

“Don’t have to be now,” Fertig told her. “He’s probably gettin’ his beauty sleep. Anytime. I’ll be here. I ain’t goin’ no place.”

* * *

“He asked for me?” Sticks Hetrick asked the next morning as Flora Vastine escorted him to Fertig’s room at the facility.

“Do you know him, sir?”

Hetrick nodded. “Used to be a constable. Later he worked as a security guard. He was also a suspect in an unsolved robbery. And now…what? A pathetic old man who may have murdered his lover.”

They came to the room and Hetrick stepped inside, followed by Flora Vastine.

“Seems like you and me both come down in the world,” Ray Fertig said, grinning up at Hetrick from the same chair where Flora had left him the night before.

“How’s that?” Hetrick asked.

“You ain;t chief no more.”

“Right. I’m a consultant now.”

“Ooh! Ain’t we fancy. Like Swatara Creek can afford a consultant.”

Hetrick didn’t answer. Fertig wouldn’t have known the former chief donated his services to evade the boredom of retirement. “You wanted to see me?”

Fertig nodded, glanced over at Flora and smiled. “Think you might give us some privacy, toots?”

The officer shifted her gaze from Fertig to Hetrick. “I’ll go help Brent,” she said. Brent Taylor, another officer, was already doing interviews.

“Hope I didn’t hurt her feelings,” Fertig said after she’d gone. “Seems like a nice girl.”

“She is. Very efficient, too.”

“Yeah. Well, she thinks I’m guilty. Doc Pratchett, the staff, the other residents— they all think I killed Millie.” Fertig raised his eyes and looked up at Hetrick. His left hand started shaking. He reached over and held it still with the other hand.

“Did you?”

“Nah.” His eyes looked moist behind his glasses and the left hand didn’t want to be still. “I didn’t. But I want you to arrest me and charge me.”

Hetrick pulled up the other chair and sat beside him. “Why?”

Fertig grinned and gave a little shrug with his shoulders. “Why the hell not? I got nothin’ to lose. Look, that other time, you knew I done that but you couldn’t prove it. This time I didn’t do the crime. I know who did and why. It doesn’t matter. Let me make up for that other time.”

“There’s a big difference between going down for robbery and doing it for murder.”

“Yeah. Like I said, I got nothin’ to lose. Maybe one good deed in my lousy life can make up for some of the bad shit I done.”

“No matter what you might think of police, we’re not in the habit of arresting people we know are innocent.”

“You don’t know I’m innocent. Just because I’m tellin’ you don’t make it so. Ask around. You’ll find plenty of circumstantial evidence to help convict me.”

“I’m not looking to make up a case, Ray. I’m here for the truth.”

Fertig laughed. He picked up a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the floor, drew one out and lit it with a match. “I’m givin’ you my version of the truth. I’m not gonna help you find no other.” He didn’t try to restrain his shaking arm this time.

* * *

“We looking at him, or is there somebody else?” Sticks asked.

Brent Taylor shrugged. “Dunno. Me and Flora been talkin’ to everybody. There’s a couple guys wanted to get next to her. Mrs. Yost wasn’t interested and that might have inspired something. Only problem is they both have alibis for the time.”

“How so?”

“One was in bed in the infirmary with a broken leg. Other guy was in bed with another woman. She vouched for the fact. I’ll tell you, these seniors ain’t retired from life.”

Hetrick chuckled. “Don’t blame them. You’ll get old yourself one day.” Taylor was still in his twenties. “What about staff?”

“Seem clean. Facility does a pretty good job of screening before they hire anyone and—if anything comes up—they’re off the place in a hurry.” He gestured toward Fertig’s door. “You think he done it.”

“Says he’ll take the rap, but I think he’s hiding something.”

“Like what?”

Hetrick didn’t answer and turned to look down the hall. Flora Vastine was coming toward them accompanied by an elderly woman using a walker.

“This is Mrs. Peale,” Flora said as they approached. “According to her, Mrs. Yost wasn’t the only one interested in Mr. Fertig.”

“It’s a fact,” the old woman said, nodding her head. “He’s a prize, he is—and don’t he know it. Lots want him, especially that Nora Welker.”

“And you, Mrs. Peale,” Hetrick said with a grin. “Does he appeal to you?”

“Pshaw! That stuff is for the young ones. Wait till they get to be my age. They’ll forget about this sex nonsense and just be glad they’re still breathing.”

“Mrs. Peale is eighty-nine,” Flora added.

“Does Ray share his favors, Mrs. Peale?” Hetrick asked. “Or is he a one-woman man.”

“Talk is he was faithful to Millie and I believe it. They was always together. Even with the others flirting with him all the time. It’s disgusting the way some carry on.”

“Any in particular?”

“That Nora. Like I said. And then there’s Jane Turley.”

“And you think they might be capable of…” Hetrick started to ask.

“Killing?” Mrs. Peale interrupted. “Sure. Why not? See that’s the thing with you men—always supposin’ women aren’t capable of things.” She made a face and a sucking noise with her lips. “I don’t know about Jane. Mousy little thing. Real quiet. Maybe too quiet. Sneaky. But that Nora. She could do it. Wears more paint than an Apache, and she’s been enhanced.”

“Enhanced?” Brent Taylor asked.

She looked up at the young man as though he were dense. “You know—had her breasts pumped up.”

Hetrick raised a hand to conceal the grin he couldn’t restrain. “I see.” He turned to Flora Vastine. “Why don’t you see if you can round up this Nora Welker and any other women who might have had an interest in Mr. Fertig. Take them to the solarium. I need a word with Dr. Patchett, then I’ll meet you there.”

Mrs. Peale’s description of Nora Welker was fairly on the money. Hetrick observed that she was younger than the others, in her late fifties, early sixties. Still he considered the enhancements unnecessary and possibly grotesque for a woman her age. The woman squirmed on a sofa, chain-smoking and looking distraught. “Poor Ray,” she was saying as Hetrick entered the room. “Poor Ray. He shouldn’t have done it. He should have just quit her.”

The other woman who Hetrick assumed must be Jane Turley was a prim and dignified-looking matron wearing a dark dress and with her hair dyed the shade he’d heard called senior blue. She sat still, hands clasped on her lap, as far away from Nora Welker as it was possible to get on the small sofa. There was a scratch on the back of one hand.

Flora Vastine faced the two women, seated on another of those plasticupholstered chairs that seemed to be all over the facility.

“Good morning ladies,” Hetrick said. “I’ll try to keep this brief. Just a few questions and then I’ll let you get back to your normal pursuits.”

Nora shot him a look. “Normal? What’s normal about this zoo? Are you going to arrest Ray?”

“Should I?”

“He killed her, didn’t he? I mean, who else could have done it?”

“They were lovers weren’t they?” Hetrick asked. “What reason would he have for killing her?”

“She was cheatin’ on him,” Nora said. “I told him. Maybe I shouldn’t have. I thought he had a right to know.”

“Did you think telling Ray would make him drop her? Maybe hitch up with you?”

“I wouldn’t have cheated on him,” Nora snapped. “That’s for sure.”

Mrs. Turley hissed.

Hetrick knelt beside her. “Did you think she was cheating on him?” he asked.

“It didn’t matter,” Mrs. Turley said without turning her head. “He was quitting her anyway.”

“Really.”

Nora swung her head around and glared at the other woman. “Who told you that?”

Mrs. Turley smiled but didn’t say anything.

“Was he hitching up with you Mrs. Turley?” Flora asked.

She smiled again.

“No way,” Nora snarled. “What would he want with this dried up…”

Mrs. Turley barely turned her head as her eyes swept over the other woman. “As if he’d want something like you.”

“Why you…”

“Easy ladies,” Hetrick said. “Ray has confessed. He said he smothered Mrs. Yost with her pillow.”

Nora Welker gasped and Jane Turley’s hands twitched.

“No,” Nora said. “He couldn’t have done such a thing.”

“What about you, Mrs. Turley?” Hetrick asked. “Do you think he could have?”

She didn’t answer for a moment, seemed to be considering. “No. His condition. I don’t think he could have.”

“Right. I spoke to Dr. Pratchett. Ray has Parkinson’s. Mrs. Yost was a strong woman. The doctor doesn’t believe Ray would have had the strength in his one arm to hold her down.”

“That’s right,” Mrs. Turley said, nodding her head. “You’ve seen the way his arm shakes. He couldn’t have done it.”

“Not alone,” Hetrick said.

“What?”

“You helped him, didn’t you?”

Her eyes widened and she licked her lips.

“He couldn’t hold her down with one hand, so you helped him do it.”

“No. I…”

“You helped hold her down and she scratched your hand in her struggles.”

Nora Welker glanced down at the scratch on Jane’s hand. “You bitch,” she said and swung at her with a clenched fist. Jane Turley ducked the blow and squirmed to the side, away from her adversary. Flora jumped up and restrained Nora.

“He loves me, and I love him,” Jane said. “She was taking advantage of him. Taking his money and playing around with others on the side. All he was to her was money. That’s what he was to you, too,” she said to Nora. “But I love him. I’d do anything for Ray.”

“I guess he knows that, too,” Hetrick told her. “He claimed he was innocent and protecting someone else. He knew we’d find out about his ailment and would look for another party. He knew we’d find you. But his hope was we’d put all the blame on his accomplice and not consider you’d done it together.”

Mrs. Turley gave him a defiant look. “I’d do anything for Ray. He knows that. He wouldn’t betray me.”

“But it looks like he did. Without naming you directly. He betrayed you, just like he did Mrs. Yost. He’s a , Mrs. Turley.”

“No! You don’t know him. Not like I do.”

Hetrick hunched his shoulders. It was a shame. He felt bad knowing this elderly woman would have to spend her declining years behind bars. Though maybe that wasn’t so much different than the life she already led. Maybe Ray Fertig was consolation for life here. She was blind to any lies he might tell her or others. Now her love for him would deprive her of his presence.

She was looking up at him, a defiant expression on her face. “Maybe someday,” she said, “you’ll understand about love, young man.”

END

* * *

A retired newspaper editor, J. R. Lindermuth lives and writes in central Pennsylvania. He’s the author of nine novels, including four in the Sticks Hetrick mystery series. His short stories and articles have been published in a variety of magazines, both print and online.