Page 16 of The Woman Who Couldn't Scream
Behind her, the door opened. She wiped at her face, then faced Mrs. Branyon.
But it wasn’t Mrs. Branyon. It was Officer Moen. “Sheriff, you heard what happened with Terrance?”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry we screwed up.” The pale, redheaded boy scraped his foot across the linoleum.
“We didn’t screw up. We simply didn’t realize the cold bastard would treat his son’s body like garbage.” Truer words she’d never spoken. “We know better now, and we won’t underestimate him again.”
“I can give you the details on the way to City Hall.”
She cleared her throat. “Dr. Frownfelter told me to go home.”
“Um, I don’t think you should. Or… or can.”
For the first time, she focused, really focused, on Moen. He had brown stains on his cuffs and a brown smear across his chest—bloodstains—and the kid looked tired. Grasping his arm, she turned him toward the door and pushed him into the corridor. “Moen, you have to be off duty. Why are you here?”
“Monique Ries came to the hospital in an ambulance. I came in with her.”
Monique Ries was a local, probably in her thirties although she looked older, overweight, overly affectionate when intoxicated—and she was always intoxicated. But for all that, no one disliked Monique enough to hurt her. “What happened to Monique?”
“We had a slashing incident behind the Gem Lounge.”
“Slashing?” Man, this week just got better and better. “Who? How?”
“Unknown perp.”
“Unknown perp…” Yep, better and better.
“Miss Ries was at the bar getting her morning refreshments…”
“Right.”
“She met some guy lurking outside the ladies’ room, he made an offer, she followed him into the alley and he tried to slash her throat with, like, a box knife. Something really sharp.”
“Slash her throat?” Good God almighty. “He… missed?”
“She started shrieking and body-butted him.” Moen looked at Kateri meaningfully. “She carries a lot of body.”
Kateri waved at him to continue.
“She slammed him into the wall, shrieking all the time. Bertha Waldschmidt heard her and came out the back door with a knife.” Moen was getting enthusiastic in his telling. “Bertha chased him to the end of the alley, then came back for Monique. She’s okay, he missed her throat, cut her along the jawline, but man, you should have seen the blood!”
“Really. No. I don’t need to see any more blood.” She’d seen enough of her own. “Was she admitted?”
“I dunno. They’re stitching her up right now. She’s drunk, of course.”
She and Moen were going to have to have another chat about being careful with his politically incorrect commentary. “Do we have a perp description?”
“Monique said he was tall, dark and handsome.”
“Nothelpful. What did Bertha say?”
“Bertha said she wants to talk to you.”
“Then we’d better go to the police station.” She held up one finger. “Let me say good-bye to Rainbow.”
“She won’t know—”
