Vengeance

Monday morning, seven fifty-five, and the week was already going to hell. A light rain had been falling since midnight and the morning commute was hampered by more than two dozen accidents. Grumpy moods quickly turned to road rage as the cars crept along the interstates at a snail's pace. What would normally have been a twenty minute drive, turned into an hour long ordeal for Cheryl Mason. She sighed with relief as she pulled into the parking deck of the Downtowner hotel. Parking between the coroner's van and the Crime Scene Search Unit vehicle, Cheryl began to dread the day.

The call had come in while she was still in the shower, and a nutritious breakfast bar left her stomach growling for real food. From what details Cheryl had been able to glean from the phone call, the case was a fairly simply one, and a proper breakfast would not be far away. If not for an over eager prosecuting attorney, and under normal circumstances, the case would be closed before the top of the hour. The knot in Cheryl's stomach warned the circumstances here were far from normal.

Cheryl entered the hotel lobby and was making her way to the elevator when she was joined by her partner. It was clear by his expression Scott was having a less than wonderful morning himself. They hurried to catch a waiting elevator and Scott pressed the button for the twelfth floor. The knot in Cheryl's stomach grew a bit tighter as the elevator started up.

"What do you have so far?" Cheryl asked, as she looked out over the hotel courtyard through the glass wall of the elevator.

Scott glanced briefly at his notes before he answered. Scott was a handsome man in his late thirties who had served time in nearly every department of the force. For the last nine years he had concentrated on homicide. He was known as a detail person with keen powers of observation and deduction. He played things very close to the vest until certain of the facts. He was not a man easily fooled. "We have one Randolph Cummins, in town for a sales convention," Scott began. "It appears he took a dive from the balcony of his room. Made quite an impression on the patio."

"Jumped from the twelfth floor, that should do it," Cheryl said.

"Hotel manager is anxious to get this cleaned up, bad for the hotel's image."

"I'm sure," Cheryl said. "It can't be good for business when your customers start killing themselves. You know, I was just here last night."

"Really, with anyone I know?"

"The seminar on how to use the VICAP system," Cheryl said with a slight smile. "We were downstairs in one of the meeting rooms. What time did our man take the dive?"

"About five-thirty this morning," Scott said as the elevator arrived at the twelfth floor. "From what I have so far, he was in town for a couple of days on business, but apparently found time for some female companionship last night. Forensics tell me there was a woman in the bed with him, but she apparently left during the night."

"Any description?"

"Nope. Apparently Mister Cummins and his guest for the evening were very discrete."

"Did he leave a note of any kind?" Cheryl asked.

"He didn't," Scott said as they reached the door to room 1245.

"This is it?" Cheryl asked, glancing around the hallway.

"This would be the place," Scott said as he signed both their names in the crime scene log book. "Coroner already removed the body, but I'm told we will have no problem making out the point of impact."

Cheryl followed Scott into the room and could see where the forensic team had already dusted much of the furniture for fingerprints. Cheryl jumped slightly as a camera flash startled her. She slowly started toward the window as she looked at the small evidence bags laying on one corner of the bed. Several of the bags appeared to be empty at first glance, but actually contained hair samples which had been found on the bed sheets. A used condom was in one bag, and the personal effects of Cummins were individually bagged and labeled.

Cheryl's attention turned from the small bags to the window as Scott pulled back the curtains and stepped onto the small balcony. As she joined him, Cheryl welcomed the cool air and misty rain that continued to fall. She gripped the handrail and looked over at the swimming pool and patio area below. Scott had been correct, there was no doubt were Mister Cummins had landed. The patio looked more like a shattered window paine where the concrete had cracked. A large pool of blood covered the area and highlighted each of the tiny cracks in the otherwise white concrete. The rain had spread the blood, making the scene appear even more grisly.

"I have always wondered what goes through a persons mind when they step off," Scott said. "When they know they can't turn back. A fall from this height, he had to have at least four or five seconds to think before he hit."

Cheryl remained silent as she starred at the scene below. As they watched, a hotel worker appeared, and using a garden hose, began washing away the blood. Despite the wet conditions, Cheryl counted no less than two dozen people who watched from the balconies of their rooms as the blood was washed into the gutter and carried away. They were still watching when a voice startled them.

"Got some background on your jumper," Doug Peters said from the doorway.

Scott and Cheryl moved back inside. "Let's hear it," Scott said.

"Randolph Cummins, in town for three days from Chicago," Doug Peters began. "No criminal record, no history of depression, or mental illness. He was married to the same woman for twelve years and they have three daughters, ages nine, six, and four. I'm trying to get in touch with his employer for more details, but it appears he was traveling alone."

"Business man in town for the weekend, gets a little action on the side, then kills himself the next morning," Scott said. "Let me guess Cheryl, you would say he got off easy?"

Cheryl gave Scott an evil glance. "I never said infidelity was a capital crime."

Scott seemed un-phased by Cheryl's apparent anger. "You didn't say that when it was your husband banging some bimbo. As I recall, you would have rejoiced at his demise."

"He did a little more than bang some bimbo," Cheryl said. "He did it repeatedly, then when I caught him, he left me with no place to live and a total of thirty-six dollars and six cents to my name. In the meantime, he took our savings and disappeared to someplace in the Caribbean."

"With the bimbo."

"Yes, with his darling little bimbo," Cheryl said. "I still have to live in a one bedroom apartment the size of a postage stamp and can barely afford to eat because of the low life bastard. As I said, he did a little more than cheat on me."

"Well, given your record for revenge, I think you would like the woman who spent at least a few hours here last night," Scott said.

"Why is that?"

"Come on, I'll show you why we are here for an apparent suicide," Scott said, motioning Cheryl to follow him into the bathroom.

"I have heard of this, but I thought it was just some urban legend," Scott said. "I guess I was wrong."

As he stepped inside Cheryl and Doug could see the large mirror that lined one wall of the bathroom. Scrolled across the mirror in red lipstick was,

Welcome to the HIV club!!!

"Well, I can see how that would be a bit upsetting to wake up to," Doug said.

"Apparently Mister Cummins couldn't stand the thought of going home and having to explain things to his wife and daughters," Scott said. "Why he wouldn't have sex with her, why he was going to the doctor for tests. A hell of a load to drop on a guy for a one night stand."

"Will the lab be able to tell us if his companion really was positive, or just yanking his chain?" Doug asked.

"Not sure," Scott said. "Whatever the case, she sure got his attention. The DA is checking to see if we can charge her with anything, presuming we find her."

"Criminal indifference, I would think," Doug said.

"She certainly out did you," Scott said, turning to Cheryl. "She took it to the next level."

Cheryl shook her head. "Don't go there," she said, almost hissing the words at Scott.

Doug snickered. "Go where? What the hell is the story with you?"

Cheryl sighed and shook her head. She gave Scott a look that told him he would pay dearly for bringing up the subject, which she now wished she could find any excuse to avoid. "You started the story, you may as well finish it," she said reluctantly.

"Somebody tell me what the hell we're talking about," Doug said.

"Well, you heard about how Cheryl's husband did her wrong," Scott said. "Now, my partner here, has her own way of getting even. She would go out with a guy, but only if he was married, and only if he was from out of town. After a trip to his hotel room for a little fun, the guy would fall asleep, and Cheryl would leave a little present for his wife to find when he got home."

"A little present?" Doug asked.

"Yeah, something along the line of a pair of her underwear hidden in the bottom of his suitcase, or a pack of condoms in his toiletry bag, anything that would put him in deep when his wife found them."

"Dang girl, you must be the poster girl for 'A Woman Scorned' society," Doug said.

"As my partner will find out soon enough," Cheryl said, shooting Scott a glance that would have sent chills through a lesser man. "Now can we get back to work?"

Doug fought to hold in a laugh. "Sure, what else do you need from me?"

"Check the trash cans and ash trays between here and the lobby, see if this mystery woman threw out the lipstick she used for her little message," Cheryl said. "It might be helpful if we can match the brand of lipstick as well."

"Take a couple of guys and interview anyone who was working last night," Scott said. "I'm betting he picked her up inside the hotel, probably the bar."

"I think we should run this little scenario of leaving a message through the system and see if we get any matches," Cheryl said. "Like you said, I've heard of this, but this is the first time I've actually seen it. Maybe we can find a pattern."

"What about running the prints?" Doug asked. "They've found more than a few good sets."

"Personally I think it would be a waste of time and money," Cheryl said. "Between previous guest, bell hops, room service, and the cleaning team, we could be looking at any number of false leads. Doubtful our person would even be in the database. What do you think Scott?"

Scott was adding to his notes and did not answer for a moment. "You're probably right, no reason to waste the time. If we get a led on a suspect, we can always check to see if her prints are in the group."

"Check the phone records for last night, maybe Mister Cummins called an escort service rather than picking up someone in the bar," Cheryl said. "Might be worth checking to see if there are any prostitutes who frequent this hotel, or this area. See if they were in the area last night."

"I'll get on it," Doug said. "Give you a call as soon as I have anything."

The remainder of the morning, and afternoon, was uneventful as Cheryl and Scott followed up leads on several of their other cases. By the time Cheryl got home it was nearly eight and she slid a TV dinner into the oven before pouring herself a drink. Five minutes later she poured more bourbon into the glass as she sat and stared at the blank television screen. When the doorbell wrong, Cheryl was on her fifth drink and had forgotten about dinner entirely.

"What are you doing here?' Cheryl asked as she found Scott in the hallway. "Don't you get enough of me during the day?"

Scott followed her into the apartment and closed the door. "I thought I should check up on you, make sure you're okay."

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"No reason," Scott said as he moved to the oven and glanced inside. "You just seemed a bit out of sorts today," he continued as he put on an oven mitt and removed the burned meal from the oven.

"I've lost my appetite, but you're welcome to that if you want," Cheryl said, moving back to the sofa.

"Thanks, but I've already eaten," Scott said as he dropped the aluminum container in the sink. "You should consider eating something yourself."

"I'm fine," Cheryl said, pouring herself another drink. "Would you like one?"

"Thanks, but no," Scott said. "I thought you might want to know they didn't find the lipstick our mystery woman used to leave her little love note. The phone records turned up nothing, and if there are any prostitutes who work that hotel, we couldn't find them. They haven't been able to identify the brand of lipstick yet, that will take a bit more lab work, not that it will be much help."

Cheryl looked up over the rim of her glass. "Why do you say that?"

Scott shrugged. "What are the odds of it being a unique or rare brand of lipstick? Red lipstick, used at one time or another by almost every woman in the city. You should know, its the same shade you use most days."

"I suppose you may have a point," Cheryl said.

"I also liked your idea of running the scenario through the computer to check for similar messages," Scott said. "If there are any matches, that would take the focus away from someone doing it for the first time, say as a copycat."

"I don't follow you," Cheryl said, avoiding eye contact with Scott.

"Cheryl, we've been partners for what, eight years now?"

"About that, yeah."

"And you don't think I would recognize that funky little thing you do when you write your W's, even when you're using lipstick on a hotel mirror?"

Cheryl eyes stared at the swirling bourbon in her glass. Several moments of silence passed before she could bring herself to speak. "So you knew all along," she final said, barely speaking above a whisper.

"You played it very cool," Scott said. "You almost crossed yourself up when you didn't want to run the prints, but you covered it well."

"That man's dead because of me," Cheryl said, ignoring Scott's answer. Tears began to form in her eyes as she continued. "He was a cheater and a scum bag, but he didn't deserve to die for it."

"I'm not going to try to make you feel better," Scott said. "The fact is, Cummins would be alive now if not for you and your appetite for revenge. That said, we both know damned good and well the man had to have other problems. You don't instantly decide to kill yourself because someone leaves a message on your bathroom mirror, regardless of what the message is. He had troubles before you got there. What you did was to light the fuss that was already in place."

"So now there is a woman who lost her husband, and three little girls who will grow up without a father," Cheryl said. "Because of me."

"That's about the size of it," Scott said. "You went after revenge, and now you have to live with the consequences of your actions. Reminds me of an old saying I heard once. Seeking revenge is like holding onto a hot coal with your bare hand, hoping to throw it onto your enemy."

Cheryl wiped away the tears that were now running down her checks. "I never thought it would turn out like this. He wasn't suppose to die. How could I have been so stupid, so selfish that all I thought about was getting even with my ex-husband by screwing over any other man who was willing to cheat on his wife."

"And now?" Scott asked.

Cheryl looked up at him and tried to read his face, but he gave away nothing. He had always been good at hiding his emotions, it was one of his many talents. "I guess that is up to you," Cheryl said. "What do you plan to do?"

"You mean do I plan to turn you in?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

Scott shrugged as he leaned forward and took the glass from Cheryl's hands. "I can't see that it will serve any purpose to go public with your involvement," he said. "The man is dead, he killed himself, for whatever reason, or reasons. It was suicide, not murder. I would rather hope this would be the last such incident we come across."

"No worries there," Cheryl said.

"Then we can classify this case as, closed, and get back to work on some real homicides," Scott said as he started for the door.

Cheryl stood and followed him across the room. He turned as he opened the door and stepped into the hallway. "You need to get something to eat, and some rest," he said. "You've got to be at work in the morning."

Cheryl moved closer and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.

Cheryl said goodnight and locked the door as Scott made his way out. As she leaned against the door, the tears once again flowed freely. Her mind wondered back to earlier in the day, to the balcony, and the view of where Cummins had landed on the patio far below. Scott's words came back to her as well. What goes through a persons mind when they step off, when they know they can't turn back? Cheryl thought there was a bit of justice in the knowledge Cummins had only four to five seconds to consider his actions, while she would have the rest of her life. Vengeance is an evasive quarry. A beast, that even when consumed, continues to dominate and influence its adversary. Cheryl turned and started toward the bed. If only her husband hadn't cheated on her, hadn't left her so totally alone, none of this would have happened. Now his cheating had led to a man's death. A man he did not even know. He deserved to pay for his behavior, for his failings, all the cheating bastards did. As Cheryl climbed into bed, her mind began to search for a method by which to make him pay, to make him realize how wrong he had been. It would not be a simple task, but then, Cheryl was use to handling complex situations.