In Practice

(To read from the beginning, click here)

And with that, Jim turned and walked away. Katie watched him cross the parking lot and then turned to the Hershbergers to discuss how to proceed. But John was already a step ahead of her. He was carefully climbing over the police tape on the porch. Rachel watched him nervously, wringing her hands.
“Um, John? Um, Mr. Hershberger? What are you doing? Don’t you think we should wait for the police?” Katie said, climbing over the police tape after him.

“No,” he shouted over his shoulder as he walked through the front door, which was unlocked. “They’ve already said that it’s okay.”

“They have?” she called. “Who’s they?”

John didn’t answer. Katie couldn’t tell if he didn’t hear her or just didn’t care to reply. He continued inside and walked down the hallway and disappeared into a room on the right, with Katie following just behind. It was dark in the hallway and she searched for a light switch on the wall. Finding none along the way, she carefully continued down the hallway, squinting as she walked.

God, she thought. What is that smell? She’d never smelled anything like it before. It was overpoweringly sweet, almost like someone had poured thick molasses in the middle of the room - but not quite. It wasn’t good sweet. It was rotten sweet.

Her fingers, running along the wood panel in the hallway, finally came across a switch. She flicked it on. Nothing.

Great, she thought.

She heard John in the room to the right making quite a bit of noise. Was he moving furniture?

“Mr. Hershberger?” she asked, walking in but not seeing him.

Suddenly the bed moved towards her. She quickly stepped back.

“Mr. Hershberger?” she again asked, this time calling louder.

The bed moved again, up a little and then back down.

“Under here,” came a muffled voice from beneath the bed.

“What are you doing?” asked Katie, bending down to try and figure out what he was doing.

“Looking for money,” John answered, his voice slightly muffled.

“Money?” Katie asked.

“Yep, money. When the police found Lenny, they also found a pile of cash beside the bed. Made sense. Lenny hated banks, didn’t trust anybody. I just want to make sure that nothing gets left behind in the house before we lock up the place. You know, in case anyone breaks in.”

In Haddonfield? Haddonfield had to be one of the most squeaky clean communities in the area. Nothing ever happened here.

“Right,” said Katie, hesitating. “But the bed?”

“Yeah,” said John. “This was Lenny’s bed, I thought maybe he would have left something under here.” He paused. “But it sure does stink under here. That smell is something you won’t soon forget, huh?”

The smell? Now it made sense. That’s where they get the ‘sweet smell of death.’ Suddenly Katie felt sick.

“I’ll, uh, wait for you outside, I think,” she said.

“Suit yourself,” John replied, hard at work doing… something.

She backed away, anxious to make a quick exit down the hallway.

“Everything okay?” a voice boomed.

Katie screamed and whirled around, falling slightly before catching herself against the wall.

Standing in front of her was a man who appeared to be in his 30s, casually dressed in jeans and a white oxford shirt, the sleeves rolled up almost to his elbows. He had short dark hair with occasional flecks of gray, which complemented his eyes. Katie thought they were gray but they could have been blue. Oh God, I’m staring.

“Who… ah… who are you?” Katie asked weakly, catching her balance.

“Woodward, Detective Ed Woodward,” he barked, briefly flashing a badge at her. “Haddonfield Police Department.”

His manner struck Katie as funny and she stifled a giggle by biting her lip. How dramatic. It was all so very Dragnet.

“Everything okay?” he asked again.

“Oh yeah,” she said, straightening up. “I’m, um, the attorney here with the Hershbergers. We’re just locking up. My boss said it was okay.”

“Sure thing,” he replied. He stared at her for a moment. She stared back, suddenly feeling a little shy.

The detective continued, “Does the attorney here with the Hershbergers have a name?”

“Katherine,” she replied, extending her hand. “Well, Katie. Katie Brown. I’m with the Law Offices of Jim Heffernan.” She paused. “Just across the way,” she said, motioning with her head.

There was an awkward silence and she pulled her hand back.

“So what’s the deal with this guy?” she asked brightly. “You know anything?”

“They say it was a suicide,” replied the detective. “He was found in his bed holding his wife’s ashes.”

Katie wrinkled her nose.

“Very dramatic,” she said.

“Yeah. Very.”

“Is there something else?” Katie asked.

“What do you mean?” Ed replied, his eyes narrowing a little.

“The suicide,” she replied. “You said, ‘they say it was a suicide’ almost as if you don’t believe that it was. Is there something else?”

“Let’s just say it’s under investigation,” he said carefully.

“Okay,” she replied slowly. “Under investigation. Meaning what exactly?”

He didn’t answer. A beeping noise interrupted the brief silence. Detective Woodward pulled a pager from a case on his belt.

“I have to go. They need me back at the station. But if you need anything further here, give me a call,” he said, handing her a slightly bent business card.

She looked at the card and smiled.

I just might do that, she thought, but said only, “Thanks.”