Authors: K. J. Cazel
Minooka—7:30 am. Monday morning children discover a naked woman lying in a ditch along the highway and Morton farm driveway. She was rushed to Memorial Hospital with severe multiple injuries and hypothermia. Doctors could not resuscitate after cardiac arrest. Authorities are searching for clues to the identity of the woman. If you have any information regarding the identity of the woman, call this newspaper or the Grundy County Sheriff's Office.
Rodney’s flight touched down at 6:05 a.m. in Rome. It was too early to go to the police station. He took his carryon and laptop and walked to the first class lounge. Once there, he grabbed a cappuccino and sat down. He didn’t need the rest…first class allowed him sufficient leg room where he could stretch out and sleep while in flight. Losing ten hours on the return trip wouldn’t be great, but oh the rewards to know all his plans have all worked out.
He opened his laptop and signed onto his e-mail. Twenty-five messages—all with the subject “Condolences” appearing in his inbox. His lips curled. If the senders only knew his true feeling about Sarah, things would be different. He returned to the search engine in his browser and keyed-in: “Highway 52 & Illinois.” It was the most general common denominator that he thought might work. Several links appeared on the screen. He chose the link for the Daily Gazette. Clicking on the link he read down the list of the morning's top five articles. He didn't find what he wanted. He continued scanning the site. At last, he found what he was looking for. It was more of a blurb than an article. There wasn't much information, but what was there was enough. He closed eyes, leaned back in his seat and smiled. A feeling of euphoria rushed over him. After a few minutes, he grabbed his belongings and left the airport grabbing a cab to Rome Cavalier Hotel.
When he arrived in his room, he checked to see whether his cell phone had any bars. Luck kept following him. He placed his call to Naldo.
“Ciao.”
“Naldo, Williams here. I'm in Rome now. I will meet you after I identify the body."
Shortly after 9:00 a.m. Rodney arrived at the police station and requested to see Investigatore Valentini.
“Signore Williams." A tall Italian with a dark complexion approached Rodney with his hand extended. "My condolente. We now go to the obitorio.”
Valentini led the way. As they walked Valentini related the accident report to Rodney. "The signora was driving on a narrow cliff road. Evidently, her vehicle's tire caught the soft shoulder and veered off the road tumbling down about seventy-feet into the ravine. Another driver on the roadway, a Signore Rizzo, witnessed the accident. Your wife's body was partially out of the vehicle. Before he could extricate her the vehicle's gas tank exploded. She did not survive the crash.”
Rodney walked with a solemn expression on his face making no comment as they walked to the obitoro. The men crossed the center garden that linked the two buildings.
The glass doors automatically opened as the approached the sterile room. An overweight, grey-haired man greeted them and led them to the metal drawers containing the recently deceased. Instinctively, the man opened the drawer of the woman killed in the car accident. The old man pulled the metal handle. The metal slab slid out unceremoniousl
y.
The old man uncovered the body.
Rodney looked down at the body. Closing his eyes and in a somber voice whispered “Sarah.” He bent down and kissed the charred forehead of the woman. "Good-by sweetheart."
Valentini waited through the touching moment until he felt that Rodney had composed himself.
“Again, Signore Williams, we are very sorry for your loss. We will contact the mortuario for the body to be prepared for the return to the states. They will be in contact with you later."
Rodney handed him his business card with his cell phone number on it.
“Thank you.” Rodney turned and left the morgue. Once outside on the street side on the building, he smiled and complimented himself of his performance. Luck followed him. He was able to hail a taxi that just turned the corner and approached him.
“Signore?”
“Via Borgognona.”
The taxi stopped in front of Ermegildo's. After paying the fare and exiting the taxi, Rodney walked down several storefronts. He stopped at an outdoor café. He sat down and ordered a café corretto. While he waited for his brew, he called Naldo.
In less than an hour, Rodney finished his business. It was time to reward himself. Several hours later, Rodney walked out of the Ermegildo's salon with the promise that his purchases would be delivered to his hotel tomorrow afternoon.
In less than forty-eight hours, he would be back in the states with a new wardrobe and his “dear wife.”
The bright, morning sun peeked through the shade in Tom bedroom window. He turned and eyed his alarm clock—6:47 a.m. Instead of waiting for the alarm to go off at 7:00 a.m., he got up and started his morning routine.
While the coffee was brewing, he placed a call to his sister Ginny.
“Hi Tom.”
“Stop that. Just once, couldn’t you wait until I say Hi first?"
“Hey, get with the technology…if you feel that way, just TWEET me!” She said with a lighthearted voice.
“Okay, okay,” he grumbled.
“Got up on the wrong side of bed?" She didn't wait for an answer. "What’s up?”
“Yesterday, I a received an alert of a young woman found off I-55.
Jenny interrupted him, “Was it Ginny?”
“No. Sorry. She's a lost soul though.”
“I know you. What are you contemplating?”
“I though you could call and get Carole involved. Do you think her victim advocacy group can help her?”
“How much help does she need?’
“Let’s just say everything.”
“I don’t think the CWVVC has the resources for just one victim.”
“Well, that’s another reason I was calling. I figured I would channel the funds from my trust account to get this woman a new life.”
“Tom, for someone you don’t know?”
“Well, the money has just been sitting there. If something like this happened to Ginny, I would like to think someone would help her.”
“You are a dreamer. How can you be a detective?”
“Speaking of which. I can’t do anything to help her with her down there. I figured if Carole could get her transported to Northern Medical Center it makes it easier for me to investigate. She was married, a fact that wasn’t on the medical information.”
“Okay, detective, tell me…how do you know she was married?”
“Aw that was an easy one…there was a slight indentation on her ring finger. If I can find her husband, I am sure I’ll find her abuser.”
“Smarty pants.”
“Naw, just detecting."
"Okay. I'll call and see if Carole can get things going. What's her name? What hospital is she in?"
"No name. She is in the Memorial Hospital. Carole can contact Dr. Taylor. He was the doctor I spoke to. About the funds, I would like to the victim not know who is paying." Tom looked at the clock wall.
"Sis. Thanks for helping. Have to get to my detecting for the city."
"Okay, I'll call you later and give you an update."
"Bye and thanks again."
Tom arrived at the Precinct 19 just before the start of the 8:00 a.m. shift. He sat down at his desk opposite of Steve, his partner of five years.
"Morning. So, was it your sister?"
"No!" Tom turned and sat down. He started reviewing the reports of the open files on his desk.
Steve bowed his head and mumbled, "I see it's going to be a good day."
Rodney arrived with "Sarah's" body late Sunday evening—exactly one week to the day. He took a cab to their Lake Forest home. On the way home, he called Campbell's Funeral Home to pick up "Sarah's" body in the morning. He entered the mansion smiling as he entered. "All mine" he thought. Before retiring to bed, he went to the library and poured himself a brandy, taking the snifter to his desk. Even with jet lag, he still could stay on task.
The next several days would be busy. He made his list.
Memorial Service
Arrangements for burial
Contact Lawyer
Contact Executives
First things first. In the morning, he called Campbell's Funeral Home to verify that they picked up "Sarah" from the airport. The director informed Rodney that he reached the freight department, and his wife's body would be at the funeral home later that day. He then confirmed the visiting hours from 2:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m. and memorial service being conducted at 8:00 p.m. Friday.
Next, he called Mrs. Green. "Mrs. Green."
"Good Morning Mr. Williams."
"Mrs. Green, I need your to call the Obit department at the NEWS. They usually have an obit ready for executive or prominent people. I'm sure they have one on Sarah. I've scheduled the memorial service at 8:00 p.m. Friday at Campbell's Funeral Home in Lake Forest. I'm having a private burial on Saturday. Please see that the notice posted as soon as possible."
"Yes, Mr. Williams. Is there anything else?"
"Yes. Send and e-mail to the executive staff, requesting a meeting for 2:00 p.m. Friday. That's all for now. I’ll call after lunch." He hung up before she could reply.
Mrs. Green sat there for a few minutes thinking about how this beautiful couple had been destroyed. Her eyes glistened as she held back the tears. She wiped her eyes and began the tasks Mr. Williams had delegated to her.
Rodney placed his next call to Paul Hendrix, the company lawyer.
"Hendrix."
"Paul, Rodney here."
"Rodney, I am so sorry to hear about Sarah."
"I know, a terrible, terrible accident. What I'm calling about is Sarah's will. I want to confirm that the company doesn't have any misstep because of her absence."
"I just receive the e-mail from Mrs. Green. We can review the particulars before the meeting on Friday. Do you have the times for the services?"
"Every thing is confirmed with Campbell's. Mrs. Green will post a general e-mail for the visiting hours and the memorial services. The graveside service will be private."
"Again, I am so sorry for your loss. If you need my assistance for anything, please do not hesitate to ask."
"Thank you, Paul. I'll keep in touch." Again, hanging up without further conversations.
CHICAGO NEWS
October 5, 2011
Sarah Robinson-Williams, 35, a Lake Forest native whose father, James Robinson, founder of the Chicago-based Robinson—Williams Publishing Company, died October 3 in a deadly car crash in Terracina, Italy.
Mrs. Williams believed that everyone had a story to tell, promoting new authors. She was an avid supporter of small businesses, cancer research and the Boys and Girls Club of America.
Her husband, Rodney, survives Mrs. Williams. Memorial services will be held at Campbell Funeral Home, Lake Forest, Friday, October 12, 2012. Visiting hours from 2:00-10 p.m. The memorial service is at 8:00 p.m. Private graveside services are being held Saturday.
Tom Cassell left the precinct late on Tuesday. It seemed that every petty thief was rounded up. The activity in the station reminded him of a Chinese fire drill. It was a relief to be headed back to his townhouse.
Traffic did not seem any better. He contacted Jenny with his blue-tooth.
"Hi Tom."
"Really, can't you just wait once for me to identify myself."
"Big brother, just get the program."
"I am...I'm using the blue-tooth. Okay, so what's did Carole have to say."
"You mean about your girlfriend?"
"She's not my girlfriend...just someone who needs a lot of help."
"Okay, here’s where we are. Carole contacted Memorial and coordinated with them for a medical helicopter to transport the patient to Lincoln General on Friday morning. The doctor told Carole that the patient is still unconscious and is critical, but stable, condition. According to the doctor, it's going to be a slow recovery. He will overnight the medical records to Dr. Sorensen at Lincoln.
"Seems like things are going along pretty well."
"Well, yes. But, Carole has proposed that the all costs for your lady should be matched by you for future victims of abuse."
"Whatever."
"Tom, this might run into a lot of money. Are you prepared to lose that much of your trust fund?"
"Jen, I told you...that money doesn't mean anything to me. I have what I need."
"I know how you and dad never got along, but he meant well even if he were never there for us."
"Yea, heard that story before. Money, then as now, can’t buy my love."
"How can you be so kind hearted for someone you don't even know, but won't even forgive your own father?"
"Jen, I don't want to get into this again. I have to get going. Traffic has finally opened up. Bye."
"Bye."
Tom continued his drive down Lake Shore Drive exiting at Columbus Avenue. He pulled into the townhouse garage and went into his apartment.
He secured his weapon, went to the kitchen and got a beer, returned to the living room, and switched on the television.
As Rodney looked out his bedroom window at the fresh snowfall, he reviewed his plans for the day. He knew it would be a day to dazzle everyone with bullshit.
Rodney arrived at one-thirty. He took the elevator to the ninth floor. It was important for him to meet with Paul to see whether there were any issues that might adversely affect his plans. As he approached Paul's office, Paul's assistant immediately recognized him and told him to go right in as Paul was expecting him.
The elderly grey haired stood up and warmly greeted him. "Rodney, I can't say enough...I am so sorry for your loss. Sarah was always like a daughter to me."
Rodney nodded his head in acknowledgement. Nonetheless he though he was already tired of hearing these condolence messages.
Rodney walked over to the casual seating area of the office and took one of the seats facing the coffee table. Paul took his file and joined Rodney.
"I know you are concerned about the company. Let me say that there are no financial problems. Instead of reading the specifics, Sarah's will was really quite clear-cut. We will, of coarse, be filing it with the county and post the proper legal notices if there are any contests. Meanwhile, I can publicly say that you will now have complete control and sole owner of Robinson—Williams Publishing. This includes not only this office building, but the printing houses and the book binding facilities."
"Is there anything else I should know?"
"The other parts of the will are related to her personal assets. She has given you the house and all its contents except the Jackson Pollock, which she has donated to the Art Institute. She has divided her financial accounts among seven different charities. Upon completion of these distributions, all accounts will be closed."
"How much are talking about?"
"I don't have the exact amount as it varies from day to day. In round figures...three million.
"Rodney gave a weak smile. "It's what Sarah wanted. She was always so generous." Rodney stood up and extended his hand to thank Paul. "You are a true friend and a trusted employee. I'll see you upstairs in the conference room."
Once inside the elevator to the tenth floor Rodney whispered "That bitch!"
When the elevator reached the tenth floor, Rodney stepped out and went directly to his office. He needed a drink to calm his nerves. Giving away three million dollars to charities was absurd! What a fool she was. As he took the last gulp of the brown liquid, Mrs. Green peeked in her head to let him know that everyone was waiting in the conference room.
Rodney's eyes searched the conference room as he entered. Mrs. Green followed and took a seat in the corner ready to take minutes. As he took his seat, he addressed the staff, "Thank you all for coming."
Mike Rizzo, Department Head of the Editorial Staff, spoke on behalf of the others. "Rod, we just want you know that we are all very sorry for your loss." The other members of the staff nodded their heads in agreement.
"I'll be brief. I spoke to Paul earlier and the company in good financial straights. There won't be any immediate changes in operation. Right now, everyone should continue as before. If you wish to speak to me about any concerns, please set up a meeting time with Mrs. Green. Paul, have you got anything else to add?"
Paul looked at his open laptop. "It seems that as Rod said, we should continue our standard day-to-day operating procedures." He closed his laptop.
"That being it...I thank you for coming in."
The officers rose in unison and left the room.
***
"Sarah's" casket sat in the front of the chapel surrounded with large flowers displays. A beautiful red roses spray lay on the top of the closed casket with a ribbon in gold letters saying, "Loving Wife."
Rodney stood by the foot of the casket welcoming the mourners. Since Sarah didn't have immediate relatives, the mourners were employees, their spouses, novelists and several newspersons. In a somber voice, he did his perfunctory greeting thanking them for coming.
At 8:15 the minister appeared at the podium, to the side of the casket. He spoke of Sarah as he remembered her as a child, as a teenager, and continuing work that she did in the community. When he finished, Rodney left his position and went to the podium.
He looked down at his notes on the podium, keeping his head bowed he began: "One can’t replace Sarah...at least not in my heart." He looked up at the seated attendees and continued. "We had only been married for four years, but I knew her all her life. She was a loving person. Anyone who had a chance to meet her knew of her endearing ways and infectious smile.
"Sarah never had enemies nor did she steps on anyone. She encouraged everyone to work toward his or her dreams. Many new authors began their career at Robinson—Williams because she had faith in them.
"Sarah is in heaven now. She’s with her parents and other friends. I believe God took her too soon. She always wanted a family. We didn’t have the chance. I wasn't prepared for losing Sarah.
I know I will see Sarah again. She will always be remembered, and I will always keep her alive in my heart for as long as I live. I loved her so much."
***
Tom left the precinct almost two hours after his shift ended. It was the new norm. It was already starting to get dark. As he headed south on the Drive to Ontario, he switched on to the local sports station. The commentary was familiar...the Bears. The announcer was interviewing the new quarterback. Same scenario...this is going to be a repeat of '85. He chuckled, but glad the quarterback had a positive attitude. By leaving work late, rush hour traffic had settled down. He pulled his new black Camero into the second floor parking level at Lincoln Hospital. The security guard directed him to the front desk where the receptionist asked the name and room number of the patient. He walked over to the seating area where he could place a call in private.
"Hi Jen."
"Was wondering when you were going to call. Need something?" She had a slight amusement in her voice.
"Yea, what room is our unknown lady in?"
"Carole called me earlier today saying that the transport and the admissions went well. Right now, she is known as “Jane Doe” and is in Room 532. When are you going to see your girlfriend?"
"I'm at the hospital now. And, get off that girlfriend stuff. I have to get going. There is only a half hour left of visiting hours. Bye”
It was almost 8:00 p.m. by the time Tom wound his way through the halls and elevator system at the hospital. He wondered how many people got lost when they came to visit their loved ones.
He silently entered Room 532. He looked down at Jane Doe. She looked so helpless with all the machines beeping at a continuous low level. The IV bag hung over the right corner of the bed, and the fluids silently dripped into her arm. It was a pathetic picture. He started leaving the room and was interrupted by the nurse coming in to check the IV.
"Hello. Are you a family member of the patient?"
"No, Detective Cassell. I'm trying to ascertain what monster could do this."
"You have that right. Whoever did this was definitely a monster. I hope you catch the creep." She changed the IV and exited the room.
The loud speaker could be heard in the background announcing that visiting hours were now over. Tom left the building
It was Saturday morning when Tom called Steve to let him know he would probably be late; Tom left for the hospital to see whether he could speak to the doctor in charge of Jane Doe's case.
The sun was just peeking through the horizon as he arrived at the hospital. After he parked his car, he went directly to the fifth floor nurses station.
Tom waited patiently at the nurses' station to be acknowledged. After several minutes several young nurses started whispering. The grey haired nurse gave the younger nurses as disparaging look, stood up and addressed the dark haired man standing at the counter. Her action caused the other nurses to put their heads down and gave the impression of examining their work as the listened to the conversation.
"Is the doctor in charge of Jane Doe's case available?"
"Let me check." The older nurse returned to the files on her desk. She shuffled through them and stopped. "Dr. Gold is on his rounds now. It appears that he hasn't seen Jane Doe yet."
Tom thanked the nurse and went directly down the hallway to Room 532. He could see that just of ahead of him the doctor was already entering the room with several associates. He waited outside.
When Dr. Gold reentered the corridor with his staff, Tom addressed him.
"Dr. Gold, Detective Cassell. Can you give me an update of Jane Doe?"
“Detective Cassell, you are aware privacy issues prohibit me for saying much. I can say that the road to recovery will take several months. May be longer. There will probably be some psychological issues that will have to be addressed. She may suffer memory problems. Memory loss is a very complex issue; each patient has a different outcome. Her vital signs show improvement."
"Is she still unconscious?"
"Yes. That is the brains way of giving the body time to heal. It is hoped that it won't be much longer. If it takes too long, it could lead to a vegetated state."
“Is it true an unconscious person can hear when someone talks to them?"
"They say you should always assume the person who is unconscious can hear. Hearing is usually the last sensory faculty to deteriorate. Now, if you will excuse me."
"Certainly. Thanks doc."
Tom checked his watch. Time to get to work.
Tom and his partner had a shift change that was not uncommon with CPD. Fortunately, going from the First Shift to the Second Shift wasn't too hard of a transition. He felt that shift change came at a good time. The change would allow him to go the hospital in the morning before his afternoon-evening shift began.