Outliers
written by: Ernie Stricsek
“Goodbye.’ Those were the last words she said, just goodbye.”
“Wow. That’s just cold.”
Detective Jerry Mullins shrugged, said, “Yeah, I guess.” He glanced at his watch and reflected on the past two hours. He had entered the hospital cafeteria, his detective’s shield clipped to the pocket of his sports jacket. A woman in a uniform with sergeant stripes on the sleeves waved to him. Next to her on the table was a cap with the familiar Pittsburgh PD blue and gold checkerboard pattern above the bill. He walked over to her table and introduced himself.
With her hands resting on the tabletop, she nodded and said, “Hello, Detective. I’m Fran Parker. I work in the Oakland zone.” The sergeant’s name sounded familiar to Mullins, but he couldn’t recall where.
He noticed two coffee cups on the table in front of her. She pushed one in his direction and asked, “So, Detective, which branch of investigations are you with?”
“The Crime Unit,” Jerry replied.
“Hmm… interesting. Are you working a case?”
When he answered “yes,” Sergeant Parker asked if he could tell her about it. He looked around to make sure there wasn’t anyone who could overhear them. The cafeteria was nearly empty save for a group of hospital staff huddled at one table, too engrossed in their conversation to pay attention to anyone else. Nonetheless, Mullins leaned in closer and laid out the details of the case to Sergeant Parker. It was a white-collar crime case, and it involved a childhood friend.
He told Sergeant Parker that his friend, Curt, had met a woman whom he had fallen head over heels in love with. “She’s beautiful,” he would say, “on the inside and on the outside.” Curt couldn’t believe his good fortune. “And it seems she really likes me too.”
“That’s great news, Curt,” I told him. “We should meet for dinner. My wife would like to meet her.”
Sergeant Parker nodded, listening to Jerry’s story. He stopped talking for a moment and looked around the cafeteria again to make sure nobody had moved closer to them.
“We’re good, detective. Nobody’s paying us any attention. Did you and your wife meet Curt’s girlfriend?”
“Yes. We did. Dinner at Monterey Bay Fish Grotto up on Mount Washington.”
“Oh, I know where it is, detective. Great place.”
“Okay, yeah, who doesn’t know that place. So, we meet Laura, his new girlfriend. And she is stunning, for sure. Now mind you, Curt’s a super guy; however, he resembles a character from The Simpsons. But Laura was all over him. Holding hands, arm draped over his shoulder. All that stuff. She seemed to really like Curt.”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming, detective.”
“Well, yeah. Things didn’t seem to be adding up. Laura was evasive when my wife asked her where she was from. ‘Oh, many places’, was her answer. She said her job required lots of travel and she had moved several times because of promotions and transfers.”
Sergeant Parker laughed and said, “Man! Don’t you detectives ever relax. You’re having a nice dinner at a nice place, and the gears in your detective mind are clicking as though Curt’s girlfriend has become a suspect.”
“Well, yeah. My wife chuckled a little bit and then asked, ‘Well, where were you born then?’ And Laura’s answer was, ‘Oh, somewhere in the southwest you probably never heard of.’ And then she changed the subject.”
“Well, that is curious. And you felt she was hiding something?”
“Yes,” said Mullins, “something just seemed off. Laura sounded like she was living comfortably. Said her work had taken her all around the world and some fascinating stories to tell. So, I started thinking about the connection to Curt. He has never strayed much beyond Pittsburgh. To him, a trip to the Monroeville Mall was the equivalent of going to Paris. I mean, he owns an autobody shop. I had a hard time trying to figure out the attraction to Curt.”
“It does sound odd, for sure. But you were going to tell me about the case you are working on,” said Sergeant Parker.
“Well, here you go then. A couple of days ago, we received a bulletin from the Cleveland PD to be on the lookout for a con artist whose MO was to establish relationships with men to obtain their financial info and empty their bank accounts. The photo that accompanied the bulletin was Curt’s new girlfriend. Different color hair and wearing glasses, but it was definitely Laura, which apparently was one of several names she uses.”
“So, did you tell Curt?” asked Sergeant Parker.
“Yes. And, oh God, did he fall apart. He had saved up money to expand his shop, $25,000. The timing was great because he was about to give Laura that 25 grand. Tonight, as a matter of fact. Curt told me where Laura was staying, and my partner and I went to arrest her.”
“That was tonight? How did it play out?”
“Laura, or whatever her real name is, was a great actress. She feigned innocence, then she hugged herself, looked down, and seemed to be crying. Suddenly, she looked up with a grin like a butcher’s dog on her face and pointed at me. A glint of metal appeared before she said, ‘Goodbye.’”
“Wow. What was the metal thing?
“I dunno.”
“So, what’re you doing here at the hospital?” asked Sergeant Parker.
“Waiting for word on a victim.”
“A victim?” Parker asked.
“Yeah, the one who was shot,” answered Mullins.
Parker nodded and said, “Mmmmm. The one who was shot.”
Taking a sip from his coffee cup, he thought, “When did I get a refill? I gotta stop, I’m beginning to get a headache.” He noticed Parker wasn’t drinking her coffee.
“So, Sergeant Parker, tell me. What are you doing here?”
She smiled at him without answering his question.
Mullins tilted his head and stared at her face. His eyes moved to the stripes on her sleeve and then to her name tag before settling on her face again. “Parker, Parker,” he whispered. He sat up straight. His eyes flew wide. “I know who you are…” his voice trailed off.
She continued to smile and said, “I’m always here, detective, but you have to leave now; you’re going to be alright.” Her voice was breaking up like a bad cell phone connection.
“Wait, Sergeant Parker, what did you say?”
“Glad to see you’re awake! I said you’re going to be alright, Detective Mullins. You’re going to have a terrible headache, but you’re going to be alright. Who’s Sergeant Parker?”
“Who are you?” Mullins groggily asked.
“I’m Doctor Sinclair, the one who removed the small-caliber bullet from your skull.”
“What’s that? My skull? Why is there a bandage on my hand?”
“I am assuming that when you saw the gun, you put your hand up for protection. It absorbed most of the impact; otherwise, we wouldn’t be talking. Now, who’s Sergeant Parker.”
“She died in the line of duty last year, but I saw her in the cafeteria.”
Doctor Sinclair nodded. “Get some rest, Detective Mullins. I’ll be back to check on you later.” He and his group of neurosurgery residents left the room.
In the hallway and out of the detective’s hearing range, a resident commented, “I’ve never seen someone survive a head wound of that type, Doctor Sinclair.”
Sinclair stopped and turned to face the train of residents following him and said, “It happens. You are going to find outliers from time to time.”
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