A Crime of Passion

This one is a lot shorter than most of my other posts. There is no sex depicted. Sorry. It is posted complete.

*****

I can tell you to the second when my marriage imploded. It was June 23rd at 8:17.29 when the call was received at the 911 center. I got notification a few minutes later.

My name is Max Reilly. I am a police detective with almost twenty years on the job. The first ten years were in a patrol car progressing from beat cop to sergeant before taking the detective exam. I work in a mid-sized Midwestern city of about 500,000 souls.

Because we average forty to fifty homicides a year we are still considered Robbery/Homicide as a department name. We also investigate all accidental deaths, self-inflicted deaths and any other suspicious deaths. Due to a change in the state law we even have to do a report on every hospital, hospice or nursing home death. We stay pretty busy.

The newer (read younger) detectives handle most of the robberies letting us older guys deal with all these deaths.

I was up for the next call and fielded this one. The dispatcher just said, "Shooting at 8715 Lakeview Dr. Units are en route along with fire/rescue." I usually write down the address so we don't head the wrong direction but my pen froze over the post-it note as I made her repeat the address. She confirmed it for me.

I turned to Charlie Nighthorse, the other lead detective. Yes, he is our token Native American. He was a product of Affirmative Action but is a damned good cop. He just needed a way to cut through the bigotry red tape. "Charlie, you have to take this. This must be my wife involved in this shooting. My boys are at summer camp. There shouldn't be any one else at the house."

Charlie grabbed the keys to the car. His partner, Ben Richardson, was a professional also and was grabbing his sport coat as he headed for the door. My partner, Sue Wilson, was a little slower on the uptake but rapidly responded and we headed for my house.

Since my family was involved in the shooting we all shared the same car. I forced my six foot one inch frame into the back seat.

It takes about twenty minutes to drive to my house in normal traffic. With lights and siren we cut that to fifteen. During the drive we listened to the radio to glean what we could from the traffic while Charlie grilled me on my home life. I gave him everything I could. He knew a lot from our time together on the force but it let Ben record it on his pocket recorder.

I have been married eighteen years to Pamela Golden-Reilly. She is a five foot six inch brunette nurse at the emergency department of one of the local hospitals. What is it with cops and nurses? Hell Ben was married to a nurse and I know Charlie dated a number of them before settling down with a lawyer.

Anyway, back to the history lesson. We have two boys, aged sixteen and thirteen. They are a handful most days but are good kids overall. We try to send them to a sleep away summer camp yearly so they will disconnect from the phone, tablet, and video games. We also want them to learn some real skills that might be handy someday.

This was Pam's day off. Usually she has to be at work at six in the morning but she loves to sleep in when she can. I didn't know of any expected visitors today. She has been working out after work at a women's only spa across town to lose those few pounds that every woman seems to obsess about. She started her workout regime about eight months ago.

Charlie asked me about how our home life had been recently. I had to be frank. "The last month or so, Pam seems to be distracted at home a lot. We usually help each other keep the place clean but I have had to do more. She just doesn't seem to be all there when she's home. I have suspicions but haven't acted on them since I am kind of a jaded asshole because of how many cheaters we deal with. I don't want to go off half-cocked and accuse her of something."

Charlie and Ben nodded. We all fought those demons. Even Sue, married eight years to a desk sergeant, sometimes admitted to falling prey to the green-eyes monster if she saw her husband in close conversation with a female. Divorce rates among cops are some of the highest in the country.

Now if this was a television crime drama or a movie the hero, me, would be the lead detective in spite of my closeness to the victim. Also, Sue and I would be the first to arrive at the house even though we had to come from downtown to the suburbs. We would go in with guns drawn and find my wife down and I would vow vengeance against whoever did this.

The real world works a little differently. Two patrol cars were immediately dispatched along with a field supervisor. The first patrol car arrived in just five minutes after the call. The two officers did pull weapons and cautiously approached the house. They reported later that they found the door unlocked so they proceeded to clear the house of any danger. The report from the dispatcher was just that a caller, using Pam's cell phone, had just whispered, "I am shot. Please help." The dispatcher could not get anything more from the caller but the phone was still active.

Our dispatch center automatically locks the caller's phone until officers can arrive. The phone may be hung up but the caller cannot call out again and the dispatcher can call back. By the way, as soon as you dial 911 we have your phone number. We don't have to keep you on the line for some extended period of time. It works faster than your caller ID does on your own phone. Also, since an address wasn't given the dispatcher "pinged" the phone and got the address from that.

Also, the real reason we were sharing a car was the fact that I was the number one suspect, or person of interest, in the shooting. It didn't matter that I was sitting at my desk when it occurred. All of us cops know way too many people who would off someone for just a few bucks or a look the other way for a different crime.

The significant other is always the primary person of interest in a shooting. Percentage wise it turns out to be a crime of passion far too often to not be that way. Of course Charlie and Ben didn't believe I had anything to do with this but they couldn't take chances.

Just before we could get to the scene we heard the supervisor call dispatch and request officers to proceed to the Level 1 trauma center to obtain statements. I breathed a sigh of relief. If Pam was the victim she was at least alive.

We don't scan the fire frequencies so we had no idea of the victim's overall status.

When we pulled up to my house the ambulance and fire truck were long gone. Here's another thing I hate about TV and movies. They always have the ambulance crew hanging around for the hero to question the victim. There seems to be all the time in the world to get that last statement from the victim. In reality the paramedics arrived a couple of minutes ahead of the engine company since they came from different stations. The ambulance was behind the first patrol car only by a few minutes.

As the officers cleared a room the paramedics came in. They patiently followed the officers as they cleared the house. When they found the victim on the bed the paramedics immediately assessed her, started treatment using a new blood clotting dressing and slid her onto a lift sheet. By then the fire guys were there and assisted in moving her out to the gurney and into the ambulance.

There, I was told, they started a single IV and hung some fluid. They also paralyzed her and took over breathing for her as she had a single gunshot wound to the chest and her breathing was irregular. She was unconscious throughout the whole ordeal.

In the movies the cops would tell the paramedics to hold there while they asked questions. I don't know how many times paramedic friends would just laugh and tell us cops to pack sand if we thought they gave a damn about our investigation right then. Nope, they were off to the trauma center ten minutes after arriving on the scene.

So, the scene was quiet when we arrived. Charlie and Ben flanked me as we went up to the front door. Sue trailed behind. At the door Charlie stopped me. "Max, you know the drill. Gloves on and don't touch a thing. We need you to see if there is anything missing. We still don't know if this was a break-in gone bad." I nodded.

Before we went in the first patrol officer came and gave a report. "When we arrived there was no sign of a break-in. The front door was unlocked. There is no sign of a struggle anywhere. The victim is a thirty-nine year old female named Pamela Golden-Reilly." He stopped and looked at me closely. I nodded to him and he continued.

"We found her in the master bedroom on the second floor. She was nude and lying on the left hand side of the bed. She had a single small bore wound to the mid-chest and an exit wound to the back. She was breathing and had a faint pulse but she was unconscious and did not respond to any stimuli. My partner attempted bleeding control with the new clotting dressings from our car kit. I don't know how much blood she lost but there is a large pool on the bed."

He stopped for a moment. "When the paramedics came into the room I continued to clear the house leaving my partner to protect the crew and victim. The second patrol car arrived about then and we completely searched the house and detached garage. We did not find anything."

That was the extent of his report. Ben had it all on his voice recorder. We also would have access to officer's body camera. It would help clear any questions.

I had one of those special doorbell systems installed a couple of years ago. We looked at the footage and I gave a digital copy to Charlie. The person who rang the bell had a ball cap on and kept her head down so there was no facial recognition. Yes, it was a woman who attacked my wife.

The crime lab or CSI team was soon there but first I had to do a slow walk through. I guess I should describe our house here. It was over a century old four square house on a large lot. I mean four-square as there were four rooms on the first floor and four rooms on the second floor in the original design.

As you come into the front door there is a foyer with the open staircase to the second floor. To the left through the double pocket doors is the dining room. Past this room through the swinging door is the kitchen. It was a large kitchen for the age of the house. We had renovated it a few years ago and had all the newest bells and whistles installed.

If you went past the staircase in the foyer you went by a small bathroom. The entrance to the basement was under the stairs. Past the bathroom was a second entrance to the kitchen and across from that was the other door to the den. The back door was at the end of the foyer/hallway.

To the right of the foyer was another double pocket door the opened into the living room. It was quite spacious. Past this room was another double pocket door that opened into the den. The den was almost the same size as the living room. It was quite comfortable and where we had the TV and the game systems for the boys. I also had an old-style roll top desk there where I kept our household receipts and stuff. I checked and it was still locked. I sometimes keep an investigative report or two there before clearing a case so I always locked the desk before leaving for any reason.

When we had large gatherings all of the pocket doors were opened and that gave a large space for people to move around and trade gossip with each other.

Upstairs was originally four bedrooms and a bathroom. When we bought the house we converted one bedroom into a bath and walk-in closet off the master bedroom so that we could have that holy grail of modern living, the private bathroom for the parents to use. I can't tell you how many times Pam and I had played around in that spacious shower we had installed.

Other than the blood on the bed nothing seemed out of place. I was numb right now. My wife, the love of my life, was fighting for her life after some asshole had shot her. The first thing I could think of was to wonder if one of the shitheads I had sent up to the state pen was responsible. How better to really get revenge than to harm a loved one of the man you hate?

I did tell Charlie. "I don't understand why Pam would be naked in bed. She always wears a long tee shirt type gown to bed and was wearing a blue one this morning when I left. It is her day off and she usually sleeps in until about nine on those days."

As I looked at the bed I realized something else. "By the way she was on the wrong side of the bed. She always sleeps closest to the bathroom in case she has to go in the night. After having two kids her bladder is a little worse for wear and she usually is up at least once a night."

Charlie noted it all and nodded before ushering me out of the house. The CSI team would now take over.

Once again I have to tell you the difference between the actual CSI people and the movie/TV types. In the real world the CSI team does the serious grunt work of gathering and evaluating evidence. The detectives and patrol officers do the grunt work of interviewing suspects and witnesses. I don't try to tell the CSI guys how to gather or evaluate their evidence and they certainly do not carry guns and interview suspects.

We left those professionals to do their job. They would look for fingerprints, hair, and anything else that could tell us who had been in the house. I already had my fingerprints on file. They would have to get prints from the boys and Pam to rule them out.

In the movies DNA is used to find the bad guy. In the real world we have a back log of cases from many years past waiting for time and money to help us solve the crimes. A murder gets priority. An assault, like Pam's, goes down the list. The evidence might languish for eternity unless we come up with a suspect and, hopefully, a confession.

Anyhow, I had an unenviable task ahead. I had to call the camp where the boys were at and get them headed home. I also had to call Pam's parents and my own parents. They all lived close so we had extended family for support.

Sue and I went back to the station to get our car and I started to make the calls. I was placed on administrative leave so I could go and sit at the hospital. Sue allowed me to drive my own car once I assured her I was in control enough to drive. Sue stayed at the office to start and try to figure out which of my enemies might have been responsible. She would first check on which were out on parole.

I was alone in the surgery waiting room. Soon Pam's parents were there. About thirty minutes later my parents arrived. They all had the same questions. Why and who did this? Since I didn't have any answers my father-in-law looked at me suspiciously. Since I figured that would happen I kept a bland look on my face.

A couple of hours later the surgeon came out. He identified himself as a cardiovascular surgeon who had been called by the general surgeon since Pam's injuries might have included her heart and aorta.

"First let me say that Mrs. Reilly is now stable. We lost her a couple of times on the table since her injuries were so extensive and her blood loss was critical. We have given her twenty-two pints of blood and also some platelets to help with clotting. She is still in the post-op ward and will be there until she is fully stable as it is its own ICU for trauma patients. You will be able to go in for a few minutes but she is still on the ventilator. I warn you that she looks very bad. We had to put in two chest tubes and there is a small device on her chest called a Wound-Vac to help collect blood that might still be seeping from her wounds.` She has a tube into her trachea to control her airway. There is another tube down her mouth to evacuate her stomach. She has at least four IVs and is still receiving the last pint of blood. We also have a tube into her bladder so we can monitor how much fluid is still needed to get her back to normal."

Since I had heard the whole mantra before I kind of anticipated all of this. Normally, though, it wasn't my wife that was being talked about.

We each went in and sat with Pam for a few minutes before being shooed out but the staff. I sent the parents all home since we had no idea when Pam might wake or even if she would. I promised to let them know of any change.

At four o'clock I got a call from Charlie. "Say, Max, do you own or know anyone who owns a .380?"

I certainly didn't own a pistol that small and outright didn't know of anyone who did. Most guys consider that a woman's size caliber. It will certainly do the job if you are close enough but those guns have very short barrels and are usually carried in purses.

At six o'clock I got a call from Sue. "Say, Partner, we just caught a homicide over on the east side of town. A guy came home from work and found his wife dead on the floor from a single gunshot wound to the chest. Sound familiar?"

Charlie and Ben were already on the way to the scene. Fire/Rescue had been cancelled as it appeared obvious that this victim had been on the floor for many hours. Details were still sketchy so all I could do was sit and ponder if there was any connection with Pam's shooting.

I went to the hospital cafeteria after sitting with Pam again. I needed some sustenance and compromised on their version of food. Surprisingly it was tasty. Some hospitals seemed to care less about what they served. This one was the exception to the rule.

Sue called me back. "Max, the caliber of the gun used in the homicide appears to be about the same as the one used on Pam. There was only an entrance wound so we are still waiting for the autopsy. This victim was fully clothed and found just inside the front door. The husband came home from work and entered the house from his garage as usual for him. He found the front door ajar and his wife just inside. It looks as though she answered the front door and was immediately shot. There does not appear to be any entry into the house by the perp as the door would not fully open with her body there."

I enquired about the name. "Her name was/is Tammy Grimes. Her husband is Mark Grimes. Ring any bells?"

It didn't. If this happened to be the same gun there had to be a connection somewhere. "Is Grimes a cop?"

"No, he is a manager in an office downtown. Doesn't seem the type to have any criminal connections."

She paused. "Any news about Pam?"

"She got through surgery. Now comes the wait to see if she gets an infection or starts to bleed again. The head nurse said that with her injury comes the risk of her just starting to bleed out and they will not be able to stop it. Fingers are crossed as we wait."

"Sorry to hear that. Wish she was better already. I will pass the report on to Charlie and Ben. I don't know if they have any new questions. I also have not found anyone with a grudge bad enough to get Pam shot."

I agreed with her and we rang off. I remembered that I needed to call Pam's hospital and let them know what was going on. I called and spoke to a nursing supervisor. While on the phone, I asked if any patients recently had been upset with the hospital and, specifically, with Pam. The supervisor didn't know of any specific instances but promised to check with Pam's work spot, currently that was the ER. I told her that she would be contacted by the lead detectives within a few days.

My sons arrived late in the evening. James, call me Jimmy, is the oldest at sixteen. He is also pretty mature for his age and just started to drive. Somehow he understood how serious his mother's injuries were. He kept a stoic countenance as he sat at her side.

Ricky was only thirteen and had tears running down his face as he tried to get his mother to wake up as he stood by her bed. Pam and I had always agreed that our kids would not be shielded from the bad parts of life so I did not try to get them to not go in and see her.