were her ghost, at least she’d have some physical evidence. “That sounds like my Jane Doe.”
“Oh, wait,” Angela added. “This woman is African-American.”
Her heart sank. “No, no my Jane is Caucasian,” Mary replied.
Putting the clipboard back on the desk, Angela laced her fingers together and looked up at Mary. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry, Mary thought.
“Yes, I was wondering if you handled Sam Rogers’ death,” she asked.
“Sam Rogers, wasn’t he the Police Chief?” Angela asked. “Died about a year ago?”
Mary nodded. “Yes, he was in his office.”
“I did handle that case, why do you ask?” she asked suspiciously. “Is someone questioning my work?”
Mary shook her head. “No, nothing like that,” she said. “Just a similar case came across my desk and I wanted to get your take on the cause of death.”
“Heart attack,” Angela supplied immediately.
“Do you want to take a moment and look it up,” Mary asked, surprised by the quick response when it seemed Angela hadn’t remembered the case initially, “Just to be sure.”
“I have an excellent memory, besides, there was no autopsy,” she replied. “It was a heart attack.”
Mary smiled pleasantly as she stood. Hmmm, I’m not going to get any more help here, she thought. “Well, I appreciate your time,” Mary said. “Thanks for your help.”
She got up and moved toward the door when she felt the hand on her arm. She looked down at the bright red polished nails digging into her jacket. Mary raised her eyes in question to Angela’s.
“You have to understand, there’s a political war going on here,” Angela said urgently. “This position has always been held by a man and they are looking for any way to get rid of me. You know what it’s like, you’re a woman.”
Part of Mary wanted to sympathize, she understood the prejudice a woman could encounter in a male dominated field. But Mary knew you shouldn’t let politics get in the way of doing your job the right way.
“I understand that it can be tough,” she agreed, sliding her arm out of Angela’s grip. “But the best weapon we have is performing exceptionally. Then they can’t question our work.”
“I do perform excellent work. I’ve done a better job than any of the others who have had this job,” Angela spat. “But men never see women as equals. We are always not quite good enough. We have to be better, smarter and more calculating to win.”
Angela shook her head, her eyes flashing. “They tell me to keep the costs down, so I don’t order autopsies. Then they question my findings a year later,” she continued. “You don’t know what it’s like. These people, these men, are out to get me.”
“Well, I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” Mary replied. “It must make things difficult.”
The anger seemed to slide off her face and she turned at Mary. Her face became almost childlike and she smiled sweetly. Even her voice seemed to raise an up octave. “Yes, it does. Thanks for the sympathy. I knew you would understand. You’re a nice lady.”
“You’re welcome,” Mary said, grasping the door handle, hoping to quickly get out of the room. “Well, have a nice day.”
She slipped out into the hall and hurried down to the stairwell. Well, she was certainly an interesting person, Mary thought.
Chapter 13
Bradley stopped at the intersection of Galena and Crestwood and turned left onto Crestwood and into the parking lot of the VOICES Domestic Violence facility. The building had once housed a bank with a drive-through, so it looked a little incongruous as a shelter for those seeking help from abuse, but Bradley liked the analogy of the safety and security of the bank building for those looking for protection against abuse.
He walked over to the entrance, a simple non-descript door. Once inside the first door, he was met with a security door. He picked up the phone and the
“Oh, wait,” Angela added. “This woman is African-American.”
Her heart sank. “No, no my Jane is Caucasian,” Mary replied.
Putting the clipboard back on the desk, Angela laced her fingers together and looked up at Mary. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry, Mary thought.
“Yes, I was wondering if you handled Sam Rogers’ death,” she asked.
“Sam Rogers, wasn’t he the Police Chief?” Angela asked. “Died about a year ago?”
Mary nodded. “Yes, he was in his office.”
“I did handle that case, why do you ask?” she asked suspiciously. “Is someone questioning my work?”
Mary shook her head. “No, nothing like that,” she said. “Just a similar case came across my desk and I wanted to get your take on the cause of death.”
“Heart attack,” Angela supplied immediately.
“Do you want to take a moment and look it up,” Mary asked, surprised by the quick response when it seemed Angela hadn’t remembered the case initially, “Just to be sure.”
“I have an excellent memory, besides, there was no autopsy,” she replied. “It was a heart attack.”
Mary smiled pleasantly as she stood. Hmmm, I’m not going to get any more help here, she thought. “Well, I appreciate your time,” Mary said. “Thanks for your help.”
She got up and moved toward the door when she felt the hand on her arm. She looked down at the bright red polished nails digging into her jacket. Mary raised her eyes in question to Angela’s.
“You have to understand, there’s a political war going on here,” Angela said urgently. “This position has always been held by a man and they are looking for any way to get rid of me. You know what it’s like, you’re a woman.”
Part of Mary wanted to sympathize, she understood the prejudice a woman could encounter in a male dominated field. But Mary knew you shouldn’t let politics get in the way of doing your job the right way.
“I understand that it can be tough,” she agreed, sliding her arm out of Angela’s grip. “But the best weapon we have is performing exceptionally. Then they can’t question our work.”
“I do perform excellent work. I’ve done a better job than any of the others who have had this job,” Angela spat. “But men never see women as equals. We are always not quite good enough. We have to be better, smarter and more calculating to win.”
Angela shook her head, her eyes flashing. “They tell me to keep the costs down, so I don’t order autopsies. Then they question my findings a year later,” she continued. “You don’t know what it’s like. These people, these men, are out to get me.”
“Well, I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” Mary replied. “It must make things difficult.”
The anger seemed to slide off her face and she turned at Mary. Her face became almost childlike and she smiled sweetly. Even her voice seemed to raise an up octave. “Yes, it does. Thanks for the sympathy. I knew you would understand. You’re a nice lady.”
“You’re welcome,” Mary said, grasping the door handle, hoping to quickly get out of the room. “Well, have a nice day.”
She slipped out into the hall and hurried down to the stairwell. Well, she was certainly an interesting person, Mary thought.
Chapter 13
Bradley stopped at the intersection of Galena and Crestwood and turned left onto Crestwood and into the parking lot of the VOICES Domestic Violence facility. The building had once housed a bank with a drive-through, so it looked a little incongruous as a shelter for those seeking help from abuse, but Bradley liked the analogy of the safety and security of the bank building for those looking for protection against abuse.
He walked over to the entrance, a simple non-descript door. Once inside the first door, he was met with a security door. He picked up the phone and the
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