Ben’s eyes shot open and he blinked a few times until his focus returned. The haze from his painkillers was lifting and his head was no longer suffering at the hands of his brain bleeder. He had barely made it home from the Station House earlier, when the full effect of the drugs kicked in. It had taken all the strength he had left to make it from his car to he lounge, before passing out. Although he felt refreshed, he did feel somewhat more energised. Or at least he felt more capable of getting on with the day and more importantly, his job.
In one swift movement, he threw his legs over the edge of the lounge and planted them firmly on the floor. With both arms raised above his head, he stretched, rose to his feet and stumbled into the kitchen. After setting the kettle to boil, he searched for his notebook to review his notes once more. Ben pulled his notebook from his coat pocket and headed into his office. He flipped through his book and studied the copies of the business cards found near Tessa’s body. Her murder was a giant puzzle and Ben was no wiser now than he was three weeks ago when Tessa was discovered.
The kettle whistled away, boiling water spitting from the mouth of its spout. Ben left his notes and walked back into the kitchen. He carefully apportioned just the right amount of coffee and sugar into his favourite coffee mug before adding the milk and finally the water. For most people, a cuppa was just a cuppa, but not for Ben. His coffee was a simple pleasure and if it wasn’t made according to his fastidious directions, it no longer held any enjoyment for him. The fact that he was about to enter the worst coffee house in Freybourne, only made Ben even more determined to enjoy the brew he was now preparing. He stirred the mixture briskly and inhaled the aroma of the double roasted blend, before indulging in the first swallow.
"Aaahh," he sighed aloud.
With his coffee still firmly in one hand, he strode into his office and collected his notebook and pen before heading to his bedroom to change his clothes. He sipped his coffee slowly and then opened his robe doors. Ben chose a suede jacket, a smart button up polo shirt and pair of neatly pressed, box pleated slacks. Comfortable that his dress was both official and reasonably casual all in one, he gulped down the last of his coffee. He sat the empty mug on top of his chest of drawers and made his way to the bathroom. Ben splashed some water on his face, brushed his teeth and freshened his breath. He combed his hair and then slapped on a dash of cologne. The coolness of the cologne stung his skin, causing him to wince. Confidant that he was ready to tackle the job ahead of him, he walked back into his bedroom and began dressing for his impromptu meeting with the Wellness Clinic.
Ben glanced at the red neon digits of his bedside clock, 4.45pm. He pulled on his suede jacket, tucked his notebook and pen into the front inside pocket. From the dressing table, he stuffed a couple of sealed painkillers into his other pocket. Snatching his empty mug from the top of the chest of drawers, he then headed back to the kitchen.
After carefully rinsing out his coffee cup, Ben then grabbed his keys from the key holder on the kitchen wall, set his alarm and left the apartment. As he walked out the front door, he secured the deadbolt and headed to the garage. Security was of great importance to Ben, he could never be certain that some former crim he helped put away wouldn’t come after him for revenge or any number of other reasons.
Once behind the wheel of his baby blue 57 Chevy, Ben drew in a deep breath and allowed the scent of the leather upholstery to fill his senses.
"Aaahh," he gushed as he exhaled slowly.
He surveyed the immaculate interior of his pride and joy with vanity and gratification before turning the key in the ignition. The Chevy’s motor sprung to life and purred like a satisfied kitten. Content that he had indulged in his Chevy’s pleasures long enough, he backed down the driveway. He scanned for traffic, and then indicated his intent to pull out, before setting off down the road in the direction of Shelby’s Coffee House.
He made a left on Bligh Street and accelerated a little before settling into an easy cruising mode for the next twenty minutes. A river of dazzling neon signs soon shone on either side of him. Among them, Ben spied the rather mundane advertisement for Shelby’s Coffee House. He found the first available car park, got out of his car and headed for Shelby’s. Ben pushed open the single glass door and stepped inside. Instantly, his senses were tantalised with the aroma of fresh coffee beans and a less familiar scent he figured could be cinnamon.
Shelby’s looked like a lower class coffee shop. Its tables were covered with cheap plastic backed cloths instead of the usual cotton blend found in most places he had visited down town. Instead of fresh carnations in china vases in the centre of each table, there were tacky fake roses in fog stained, mock crystal flutes.
Browsing around further, he found the atmosphere to be pleasant enough and the chubby, young bru-nette behind the coffee grinder shot him a broad, welcoming smile. Ben approached the counter and took a seat directly in front of her.
"Can I get you something, love?" she asked, her smile broadening.
Ben looked up and down the counter, his eyes falling on a fully stocked cake platter.
"Is that apple and rhubarb?" he asked, pointing to the platter.
"Sure is, darl. Best in town too," she answered.
"I’ll have a slice of that and a white coffee with one and a half sugars thanks," Ben in-structed her. His taste buds were screaming at him for having ordered coffee. They could still taste the chunks from the last cup of Shelby’s coffee Ben had subjected them to, a year ago.
"Comin’ right up," she replied.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet and I.D. He then turned his attentions back to the brunette and asked, "The Manager about?"
"I certainly am, what can I help you with?" she asked still busy gathering his pie and coffee. When she placed his order in front of him, he opened his wallet and flashed his credentials at her.
"I’m Detective Ben Torrens," he said. "I just have a couple of routine questions for you. It won’t take long."
"Bout what?" the brunette asked, looking rather confused.
"First off, what’s your name? Shelby?"
With a girlish giggle she replied, "Oh no honey, I’m Joanna Kent. Shelby was the previous owner." She paused for a moment then contin-ued, "I only took over a month ago and I figure, why go to all the expense of changin’ the name here? Things are fine as they are."
"I understand," confirmed Ben. "Do you still accept these buy one get one free cards?" he asked pulling the copy of the redemption card from his notebook.
"Sure do," she said. "You wanna redeem it now?"
"Oh no, no, no." Ben pulled the card back from her reach. "I was just curious, is there any way of knowing who owns this card or when they acquired it?"
Joanna eyed him suspiciously, still uncertain if he was aiming for a freebie or if he had a legitimate reason for asking what she considered to be an unanswerable question.
"Well, all I can tell you is that we don’t ask for personal details when we hand them out," she said as she studied the card carefully. "Though I can tell you this much…"
Ben’s eyes lit up, hoping his break was coming through.
"That card you have there only came in the Friday after I took over."
"How can you be sure of that?" Ben asked.
"Well I had new ones printed up with a blue border, see. They used to be black." Joanna handed him an old redemption card. "The delivery guy only dropped them to me on the afternoon of the seventeenth, I’d been fresh out of cards for a week before then. Come to think of it, I was fresh out of everything when I took over this place." She rolled her eyes back in her head and placed her hands on her hips.
"So you’re saying that this card would only have been given out on Friday the seven-teenth at the earliest?" he asked her.
"You got it," she answered.
"Were you working that Friday?" he asked.
"Honey, I’m always working… I can’t afford to hire anyone else."
Ben shifted on his seat anxiously, his hopes beginning to build a little. Pulling a photo of Tessa Hunt from his notebook he showed it to Joanna.
"Do you recognise or recall serving this woman on that particular Friday or Friday night?"
After perusing the picture carefully, Joanna smiled softly and said, "Sure, she was a sweetheart… such lovely manners and she left me a generous tip too."
"Was she with anyone? What time did she leave?" Ben fired off another round of questions.
"What is this about, exactly?" Joanna asked, looking Ben directly in the eye. Her nerves beginning to show.
"Unfortunately, Joanna, this woman was found murdered. Your redemption card was found in her purse," he informed her rather abruptly. "Right now, I’m just following every lead available, no matter how insignificant it may seem."
Joanna’s hands flew up to her face and her eyes closed momentarily. Ben allowed her to gather her thoughts before he resumed his questioning.
"Is there anything you can tell me that may be relevant, Joanna?"
"I didn’t see her with anyone, she got up once or twice to use the payphone…" Joanna reached for a fresh cup to make herself a coffee.
"She seemed like she was waiting for whomever it was she rang, but after half an hour or so she left… alone."
"What time was this?"
"About 7.30, I close at 8 and she was the only customer I had left."
Ben pulled his business card out of his wallet and handed it to Joanna, "If you remem-ber anything, no matter how trivial you think it may be, give me a call."
"I certainly will," replied Joanna, taking his card from him.
Placing ten dollars plus a tip on the counter, Ben took a bite of his pie before stand-ing up. "Delicious," he cooed to Joanna as he stuffed his wallet and notebook back into his pockets and left Shelby’s.
Ben’s Chevy sailed along Link Avenue and then made a quick right into Fort Street. He circled the round a bout before entering a parking bay directly in front of the Wellness Clinic. He shut down the engine, got out of his car and stood motionless in front of the building for a few minutes. The sheer optical brilliance of it struck him first; there were two marble columns either side of the four extra-large, glass doors. 'Your Right To Choose Wellness Clinic' was deeply etched into a brass plaque bolted tightly onto the face of one of the marble columns. It shone brazenly as his eyes fell upon it. Ben hadn’t been sure what to expect, but
somehow the grandiose nature of the building alone, was not it.
Unable to see anyone through the glass doors, Ben turned to his right. On the wall, he noticed a digital intercom system, he ap-proached it confidently and pushed a large, black button marked 'Page'.
"Hello," a voice crackled through the intercom.
"This is Detective Ben Torrens, I’d like to speak to whoever is in charge of your clinic please," he replied in the most officially domi-nating tone he could muster.
"I’m sorry Detective, the clinic is closed for the day. Would you like to make an ap-pointment for during the week?" she asked, sounding very much like he was inconvenienc-ing her in some way.
"Who am I speaking with?" grumbled Ben, more than a little annoyed that she was fobbing him off.
"My name is Marla Andrews, I’m sorry Detective but Dr. Sugars has finished for the day. I’d be happy to…"
Ben cut her short and spat firmly at her, "Listen, Marla, I am investigating a very serious police matter and it is important that I speak with this Dr. Sugars immediately. If you wish to have Detectives parading all over your waiting room tomorrow, scaring your patients…"
"Just one moment please, eerr, what did you say your name was again?" she asked.
Ben was certain the woman was trying to make life difficult for him. "Detective Ben Torrens!"
The intercom fell silent, Ben waited to see what was going to happen next.
"The Dr will see you, Detective." Her voice crackled over the line.
"Thank you, Marla," he sighed and stepped back from the intercom, then waited in front of the closest set of glass doors. A few minutes later a tall, thin woman with shoulder length, jet-black hair appeared. She thumbed through a large set of keys and unlocked the door. With a wave of her hand, she beckoned him to come through. Once inside, Ben was again struck with the stature of the building. Its marble floors, the leather lounge chairs in the exquisitely decorated waiting room, beautifully framed oil paintings, even the magazine table, all looked expensive.
"This wellness thing must pay well, eh?" asked Ben.
"Must it?" replied Marla, her piercing green eyes burning into him. Ben glanced at her briefly, wondering if his innocent comment had somehow offended her or whether she was simply difficult with every person she came in contact with.
"It was meant as a compliment, nothing more," Ben made an attempt to smooth over their rough beginning. "My Doctor’s office isn’t anywhere near this impressive."
"Well," Marla started, as she looked him over, "we deal with a slightly different clientele here."
Unsure if she was degrading him on purpose, Ben sucked air back through his teeth and decided it was best to ignore her remark. "Is Dr. Sugars ready for me now?" he asked, as he tried to regain control of the situation. "I’d like to make this as brief and painless as possible so we can all get on with our evening."
Marla led him silently down a corridor and opened a door at the end. She motioned to Ben to take a seat in the extra large easy chair in front of a beautifully crafted oak desk.
"Wait here, please. I’ll let Dr. Sugars know you’re ready," said Marla as she turned and left the room.
Ben simply couldn’t under-stand her. She seemed to have a set on him and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. Maybe his frayed lack of patience had shown more than he had realised when they spoke over the intercom. Perhaps he had offended her and now she was returning the favour. Whatever the case, Ben made a mental note to find out more about the woman. There was something about her he didn’t quite feel at ease with.
He made himself comfortable in the royal blue, suede easy chair and reached into his pocket, retrieving his notebook and pen. Ben’s eyes surveyed the room and narrowed as he began to focus on Dr. Sugars’ PHD and numer-ous awards hanging on the pale blue walls of her office. On her desk sat two small, silver framed photos. A rather handsome, distinguished man smiled up from the first frame and in the other was a teenage girl who looked familiar to Ben. Unable to put his finger on where he had seen the girl, he leaned closer for a better look when the office door opened.
"Detective Torrens?" an attractive middle-aged woman who Ben presumed was Dr. Sugars, entered the room.
"In the flesh," he lightly replied.
"Rose-Marie Sugars… please call me Rose," she introduced herself warmly. "I understand you need to speak to me regarding a Police matter. How can I help you, Detective?"
Impressed with her courteous manner and pleasant disposition, Ben flashed her a comforting smile. She was the complete opposite to her secretary and he appreciated the respect she showed him.
"Please call me Ben," he said.
Nodding in agreement, Rose spoke again, "How is it you believe I can be of assistance, Ben?"
He produced the small photo of Tessa Hunt, handed it to her and said, "Do you recall this woman. Is she or was she a client of yours?"
She studied the picture carefully before replying, "Why yes, as a matter of fact I con-sulted with her just last month."
"Consulted with her? What exactly do you specialise in here, Rose?"
"I can’t give you the specifics of Tessa’s consultation, but I can tell you what we practice here… if you think it would be of benefit?"
"I’d appreciate that," Ben encouraged her.
"We are a licensed termination clinic," she began. "We discuss unwanted or unplanned pregnancies and offer not only termination, but other alternatives to women in such predica-ments." She stared at him. "No judgment, Ben?" she asked awkwardly. "It’s been my experience that most people show signs of disapproval and disgust when they first realise that my wellness clinic is not the health resort or beauty spa they had mistaken it to be." Rose sat back and looked at him a little longer.
"Not at all Rose, this world is full of personal choices and termination is just that, personal choice."
"I’m relieved you are so open minded. Not many are when it comes to my line of work." She fell silent for a moment before continuing, "I have learned to live with the criticism, the derogatory remarks, abusive letters and calls, though. I understood that all came with the job when I entered this field."
Ben’s eyebrows rose, "You get much hate mail?
"Oh yes, and plenty of calls to follow it up. But tell me Ben, why are you interested in Tessa?"
Ben stared at her for a moment before it dawned on him that she had absolutely no idea Tessa was dead. With all the publicity surround-ing her murder over the last couple of weeks, he thought it a bit odd.
"So you haven’t heard?" he asked.
"Heard what? Has Tessa had an accident, is that what this is all about?" she replied, her concern beginning to present itself.
Ben lowered his voice to a soft whisper, "I am sorry to tell you that she was murdered sometime around the evening of Friday the seventeenth. Your card was found in her purse," he told her empathetically. "I’m just following leads right now, however with what you have just told me, there are elements of her murder that may indicate her pregnancy could have been a factor in her death."
"Dear God, no," cried Rose. She slumped back in her chair, rubbed her eyes and sighed deeply. Ben gave her a minute to digest the news.
"Was she scheduled for a termination?" he pressed her gently.
"Yes, but she phoned me the Friday, a couple of days after her initial consultation and said that she wanted to postpone." She dabbed her eyes with a tissue and carried on, "She said that she wanted to reconsider her options and come back in the following week, before she followed through with her termination."
"Do you remember what time she called you?"
Rose checked her date book. "I remember I left late the night of the seventeenth, I guess she called around seven-ish." She continued brows-ing her book. "Yes, here it is… Friday the seventeenth. I left at roughly seven thirty that evening." She held out her book for Ben to view, before placing it back down on her desk.
Ben nodded and jotted the entry down in his notebook. "Her pregnancy… Did she tell you why she was considering termination? Was it just bad timing or did she simply not want a baby right now? What about the Father, did she say who he was?"
Rose pulled a manila folder from the tall filing cabinet behind her chair and perused her notes. "All she told me was that keeping the baby would be disastrous because the Father was a married man. There was no mention of his name though."
"Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything at all?" He asked. "It may be impor-tant, Rose."
"Not that I can think of Detective, but I will call you if any other information comes to light. Do you have a card?"
Ben handed her a card. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Rose was trying to end their conversation prematurely. Ben was unsure whether she had been dodging his bullets on purpose or if the sheer weight of their discussion had been too much for her and she simply needed time to absorb all that had been said. Either way, he knew he would be revisiting Rose… and sooner rather than later.
As he walked toward the door, he turned back to her. "Your receptionist?"
"Marla? Yes, what about her?" she replied.
"Has she been here long?"
"She’s been with me from the start," she stated flatly. "Is there something wrong?"
"Oh no, just one of those questions I ask, more for my own curiosity. Nothing to do with the case." He assured her. "She does seem a little icy and tightly wound though…"
"Yes," Rose cut him off. "Marla has had some rather difficult news to digest of late. I’ll be sure to have a word with her about being more courteous Detective."
Ben couldn’t be sure, but he felt that Rose acted quite defensive in regards to Marla. "Thank you for your time, Rose, I appreciate it."
"You are more than welcome, Ben. Don’t hesitate to call me again should you need to."
Smiling kindly at her, he opened the door, "I’ll see myself out."
Rose flashed him an uncomfortable smile and nodded. Passing by Marla’s desk on the way out, he shot her the most dazzling smile he could muster and said, "Night, Marla."
She glared at him and replied, "Good-night, Detective."
Ben crawled into his car and stared at the wellness clinic for a while before pulling his phone out and dialling Mike.
"Mikey, it’s me… we still on for 9?"
"Surely are," answered Mike. "I got lots to tell ya Ben."
Ben glanced at the clinic again and saw Marla and Rose leaving. He followed them with his eyes. They both exited the building and walked over to a silver volkswagon convertible. To Ben’s surprise the two of them got in and drove off together, Rose behind the wheel.
"Strange," he said, forgetting he was on the phone to Mike.
"What’s strange?" Mike asked.
"Oh, nothing," stated Ben, suddenly aware of Mike again. "I’ll see you at Bluey’s."
He disconnected the call.