Tabula Rasa: Chapter 7
* I do not own the BT series characters. They belong to a much-more talented individual. I am however, more than willing to take credit for characters/scenarios not featured in the books or television series. Not making any money. No copyright infringement intended*
It occurred to Vicki midway across the lobby that she probably should have concealed her latest injury from the prying eyes of the doorman, but as his attention was immediately arrested by it and his eyes widened in concern, she decided to use it to her advantage.
“My goodness! Miss Nelson, are you alright?” He came from around the side of his desk and gingerly reached out to inspect the wound. Vicki tucked her arm securely by her side, and inclined her head towards him conspiratorially.
“Uh….” A quick furtive glance around. “I think that this is a matter that would best be discussed in private.” At his obvious confusion, she switched gears and laid it on thick. “There was a break in up on the fourteenth floor, and the perpetrator escaped.”
Greg’s eyes widened further in his head, and Vicki knew she had his undivided attention. Without giving him a chance to speak, she continued in her most official tone: “The occupant of the unit in question wasn’t harmed, and nothing was stolen, but as you can see….” She held up her arm for emphasis. “….I sustained an injury while trying to apprehend the perp.”
Greg attempted to get a word in edgewise. “But how….? Who….?”
Vicki cut him off. “That’s where your cooperation comes in. I need to see the surveillance tapes from the past two days, as well as your recollection of who came in or out of the building since you’ve been on duty.”
The poor man seemed positively flustered as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. An attempted burglary and assault on a public servant in his building? If asked that very question earlier, he would have stated emphatically that it was impossible. The tenets didn’t shell out that kind of money to allow such a thing to occur, and he feared for his job.
Vicki placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She knew that she was playing on the man’s fears, but if it got the job done, then so be it. “The occupant of the unit in question has requested that the matter be handled as discreetly as possible, and does not wish to press any charges against the owners or employees of this building. I think that it would be in everyone’s best interest if you cooperated, and respected their wishes.”
If that doesn’t convince him to help out, I don’t know what will.
The air of supposed-authority was entirely unnecessary, and Greg immediately began to comply, babbling on and on about what else he could do to help, etc. Vicki grinned. And I didn’t even need to drop Celluci’s name or show him my P.I. license. Henry would be proud. Her heart ached as she thought about what he must be going through, but she quickly quelled it with her desire to find out the identity of his attacker.
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“I think that we should take the back roads to Vicki’s office. Might be safer.” Coreen flushed as Mike and Henry turned to stare at her quizzically. “Hello! That stalker chick just tried to attack him again tonight! Don’t you think it’s possible that she might still be stalking him?”
Mike considered. “Good point.” He steered the car around towards the alleyway and parked at a discreet distance away from the office’s side entrance. Coreen slid out of the backseat and grabbed the dufflebag, then shut the door behind her. Henry climbed out of the car and began to follow Mike, when he stopped dead in his tracks, nostrils flared.
He squatted down towards the floor of the alley and began pawing at the ground, then stood up holding a limp and decidedly-filthy piece of cloth.
“What is it?” Mike and Coreen came closer to get a better look, squinting at the object in the dim light of the alley. They couldn’t make heads or tails out of it, but apparently it was important enough to catch Henry’s attention.
“Blood.” His eyes flashed obsidian as his nostrils continued to flare in and out as he held it up. “There’s blood on this. Blood that I recognize.”
Coreen was suddenly hopeful, but Mike seemed concerned. “Who’s blood? Vicki’s?” Fear welled up in his throat. “If that woman so much as touched one hair on her head, I’ll….”
“That’s not necessary, detective. The blood on this cloth doesn’t belong to Vicki-it belongs to the woman who did this to me.” A short wave of his arm for emphasis.
Mike stood there with his hands on his hips. “I’m sure I’m gonna regret this, but I have to ask: How do you recognize the blood on this rag?”
Henry stood there silently for a moment, his mind reeling from the night’s events. I recognize it, because Vicki planted it right under my nose-right before I viciously attacked and almost killed her. He felt suddenly ill at the memory, and instinctively pushed it away.
“The attacker left traces of her blood behind tonight on the compact. That’s how I know it,” he said simply. The truth was the truth, regardless of how much detail he chose to omit from it. At least that was what he kept telling himself.