Catherine Lanigan - California Moon

The John Doe case was more than perplexing to Ben Richards. It bugged the hell out of him. After a week of standing guard at the hospital, Ben had learned little about the man. No one had come to visit him. No one asked about him. There were no calls, no flowers.

Even the police were dumbfounded, it seemed.

Ben stood stock-still in Chief Bremen’s office. “Sir, I have a feeling that Alice Rivers knows John Doe. Her ability to recognize him was impaired not only because of his physical condition but because she was stressed over her husband.”

“Don’t you think I know all that?”

“Sir, I was only recounting your thoughts on the matter.”

“Well, then, don’t you have any new thoughts to add, Richards?”

“Not at this time, sir.”

Jimmy Joe took out a cigar, considered it and put it back in his drawer. “Doc says those things will kill me.”

“Yeah, they tell me that about cigarettes.” Ben shrugged his shoulders. “But, what can I do? I’m hooked,” he said with a sheepish grin. “You ran John Doe’s fingerprints?” he asked, sliding the question easily into his conversation.

“Yes, but we found nothing. No criminal record. No military record.”

“And the rental car?”

“Issued to a Harvey Ackerman. But we tracked him down. He’s alive and well in Bossier.” Chief Bremen answered pointedly and with a terse nod for emphasis.

“John Doe stole Harvey’s credit card and driver’s license?”

“Apparently,” Jimmy Joe said dismissively. “Look, Ben, I handled all this myself. I don’t want any more screwups. Your job is to bird-dog John Doe. I’ll take care of the rest. You got that?”

Ben watched Jimmy Joe’s reactions to his questions like a scientist searching for microscopic clues. Something was wrong. Jimmy Joe was lying through his teeth about something. Ben just had to find out what that something was. “Got it.”

“I’m glad we got that straight. Helen Mayer called from the hospital and said they’re moving our guy out of ICU. Room 505. I told her I wanted as few people to know about his presence as possible.”

“Chief, the fact that he has a guard twenty-four hours a day will draw attention,” Ben said.

“I told you to look as inconspicuous as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hopefully the guy will come around in another couple days. So far we’ve been able to keep the press at bay. We’ve still got a chance to unravel this thing.”

“I understand.”

“Dr. Scanlon will continue to be the attending physician and I understand Helen has assigned a permanent nurse.” He looked down at his pocket spiral notepad. “Shannon Riley. Wasn’t she his nurse when they brought him in?”

“Yes. She’s been with him every day,” Ben said. “She seems dependable, even taking double shifts.”

“She’s probably being paid double time and a half.”

A moment later, Ben told his boss that he was headed for the hospital. What he didn’t tell him was that he wasn’t going there immediately. He had some investigating of his own to do.

Ben’s conversation with Jimmy Joe bothered him. He was smarter than Jimmy Joe and knew how to read people. The man was lying and Ben had to figure out what he was lying about and why.

After speaking with Jimmy Joe at the station, Ben drove to the airport car rental where John Doe had falsely rented a car. He asked the supervisor to show him the records regarding that particular transaction.

“Mabel Yates, one of our clerks, dealt with that customer. The police were already here once about it. She knows she messed up.”

“Messed up?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, she didn’t check the signature against the customer’s credit-card signature on the back.”

“I see,” Ben said, nodding. “Did she remember the man at all? Give a description?”

The supervisor shook his head. “Most folks look the same to us, we see so many. But she did remember that he was short.”

“Short?” Ben was surprised. John Doe was at least six foot tall. But Adam Rivers is short.

“Yeah. Mabel is tall—five-ten. He was shorter than she is. She says she always notices people’s height.”

Ben reasoned that Adam Rivers had undoubtedly rented the car under an assumed name, then left it somewhere for John Doe to pick up at a later time. But why? Was Adam Rivers protecting John Doe? Was Adam the gofer, doing odd jobs for John Doe the mastermind? Or was Rivers protecting himself? Or both?

After leaving the car rental place, Ben went to a pay phone. Picking up the phone book, he quickly turned to the Bossier City section. There were three Ackermans in Bossier City, but there was no Harvey nor even an initial “H.” He called all three numbers and each call confirmed there had never been a Harvey Ackerman in Bossier City.

Why would Jimmy Joe lie about this? Ben wondered. Or is someone in the department lying to Jimmy Joe?

Ben had thought he’d find answers to his questions.

He’d thought wrong.

John Doe had been assigned to private room 505, located at the end of the hall, surrounded by unoccupied semiprivate rooms. Chief Bremen and the hospital administration had agreed that until more was known regarding the criminal status of John Doe, the safety of patients and staff was of primary concern. No one was allowed admittance to that end of the hall except Ben Richards, Dr. Scanlon, Shannon Riley and Chief Bremen.

“I can understand having Ben around when John was in ICU. But now that we know it may be weeks, months, before John comes out of the coma, is it necessary to have cops on duty all the time?” Shannon asked Helen.

“Chief Bremen thinks so,” Helen said. “He doesn’t want a gang slaying up here any more than I do.”

“Slaying? They think John is in that much danger?”

“Yes.”

“My God.” Shannon swallowed hard, looking around the nurses’ lounge for escape. “I had no idea…”

“Don’t cop out on me, Shannon. I need you on this case. You’re damn good.”

“Besides, no one else will take it?” Shannon offered.

“Something like that.”

“Well, I’ve never worked with an armed guard at the door. All this past week, it’s given me the willies.”

“He’s supposed to make you feel safe.”

“Well, he doesn’t,” Shannon replied tersely. “Maybe I just don’t like cops.”

Helen nodded. “I’ve noticed that about you.”

“What?” Shannon asked, clearly shocked.

“You shake like a leaf when Ben is around. Chief Bremen, too.”

“I do not,” she answered with more confidence than she felt. “It’s the case that has me rattled. You have to admit, this entire case is out of the ordinary.”

“It is.”

Shannon rolled her eyes. “How did I get myself into this?”

“You didn’t. I did,” Helen smiled.

“Remind me to thank you later,” Shannon replied. Making no further comment, she walked down the hall toward John’s room, closing the door behind her.

“Good day, John,” she said cheerily, opening the miniblinds. “Sunny. That’s good.”

She smiled at her patient. “You look better already without your ICU attachments.”

She looked at him closely. The cuts on his face were healing well after only a week in the hospital. There was a remarkable change almost overnight as the swelling had gone down due to Shannon’s trick of placing frozen peas inside the fingers of plastic gloves and laying them across his eyes and cheeks. The edges of his bruises had altered from black and blue to a muddy yellow. She passed her hand over his cheek. “I think Mozart has had a hand in this.” Shannon had continued to play him classical music each day. She leaned over him, putting her face close to his.