Who Killed Sarah Tucker?

Precious Life Insurance. One of the top 10 companies in the Big Metro City that offered all sorts of financial protection to their clients, from automobile accidents, health and medical, long-term disability support, especially protecting the value of a human life. The type of company who show off their many award winning crystal trophies and certificates shielded by golden frames. Whether it be the front counter, the walls in the hallway, even on top of their filing cabinets, their merits could be seen everywhere and dated back to 10 or so years.

Sergeant Leo and Constable McLamb approached a single door out of 1092 offices. Once they saw the name on the plaque, they didn’t hesitate with a knock – they opened it right up.

“You must be the officers my secretary buzzed me about. Don’t bother sitting down, I was about to leave.”

Felicia Harvey stood behind her desk, cleaning it up. She had one hand on the edge as if to balance her thin body. A series of bandage were wrapped tied around her head, over the forehead and the back; some faint pink residue seeping through the wrapping. One side of her cheek was covered in a palm-size medical patch with hospital tape stuck to her face. It made the officers think she had a tooth ache. The minor stitches across her one eye lid reminded them otherwise.

“As you can see officers, I am--” Felicia tossed some of her photos, personal awards, and a collection of fine ink pens into a cheap cardboard box. “—quite busy. All thanks, to that viral video.”

McLamb cleared his throat stepped up, “Where were you last night between 2:00 AM to 3:00 PM?”

Felicia glanced up at the detectives, lips mulling. She took a moment to grab some binders from a shelf, unlocked the rings, and just dump out the tons of paper from them. They either rained out or tore through the three holes. When each binder were cleared of anything, she clapped them shut and tossed them into the cardboard with a rattle. She continued to dump more paper onto the floor, walking over them as if snow.

The constables watched as she took a moment to pluck a bottle from her bag, a sort of hand cream-based lotion with some sanitation alcohol formula. She squirted some paste into her palm and rubbed it over her fingers and massaged it across her wrists. “What is this about?”

McLamb took a short breath to speak again. “Please answer the question.”

“Officers. I am willing to cooperate, if I know the context of the question. You either tell me now, or you’re going to have to wait for my lawyer to act as my medium.”

Leo resisted the urge to rub his face, so he placed his hands on his hips. “Sarah Tucker was killed--”

Felicia laughed. “Isn’t that already over the news?”

“Just last night, between 2 to 3 AM.”

The insurance agent raised an eyebrow. She tilted her body on one foot, a short chuckle. “So. You’re saying, this whole time, she was never dead.”

McLamb was about to answer, but Leo put a hand on his shoulder. Getting the memo, the rookie followed in Leo’s silence.

Felicia stared at them, before she turn to her office window. The world, she had a great view of the Big Metro City. High rise buildings made of steel with glass for skin, veins and arteries of bustling streets, the many attractions of national and amusement parks left and right, monuments of patriotism and history. The insurance agent bit a canine tooth into her lip, piercing through her rich lipstick. “Sarah Tucker. Alive the whole time...that bi--”

She stomped at the office glass, leaving a crack with the heel of her stiletto. When she turned around, Leo and McLamb had their hands on their holsters. She rolled her eyes and waved them off. Ignoring them she pulled out a plastic bottle, removed the cap, and popped some pills. Without water, she made a hard gulp. Eyes clenched in pain, a small hiss, before she relaxed. “2 to 3 AM, I was still in the hospital, ICU for hitting my head. I just got discharged this morning. Came to the office to report for work but...” One lazy hand to her cardboard box.

Leo looked around the office. Other than the standard insurance text, some company paintings, and office utilities, the room itself was stripped of any personal items. A letter sat on the desk next to the cardboard box, in a pile of hand torn shreds. “Can anyone account for you?”

Felicia rolled her eyes, “Detective. I had six random nurses watching over me, filling in for the morning, noon, and night shifts. None of them had the Florence Nightingale touch, so I didn’t bothered to remember who they were. If you really, reeaaally, need a name, I guess.” The ex-insurance agent shrugged her shoulders. “Could talk to Chandler. Not sure if it really was his name, but my room mate kinda looked like that guy from the T.V. show. I think his name sounded like Bing? Said he’s still there for some other condition, so you could hit him up. Just pray, really hard, it’s not COVID.”

Leo and McLamb stared. Felicia chuckled. She finished up cleaning off her desk, gripping onto the cardboard box. As she walked towards the door, Leo glanced between her and the desk she left behind.

“Miss Harvey. You forgot something.” Leo pointed at several items sitting on the desk. A collection of glass and porcelain figures of a gentlemen sweeping a lady about in a dance, her skirt flowing in the air. Pairs of glass toucans, beak to beak, forming a heart shape. Some Asian style fine china figurines of a jolly elderly couple with a basket full of babies surrounding them. And a large and expensive snow globe of a golden Japanese castle covered in white paint and loose powder.

“No I didn’t” was all Felicia said without looking back.

McLamb tried to catch up to her, but the woman was already out the door with a slight wobble. “Wh-which hospital were you admitted to?”

“St. Marlene Hospital. Good day.”

{~~~~~~~~~}

“Thank you kindly Mr. Chandler Barnes. Your help is much appreciated. Have a nice day.”

Constable Jackson tipped his fedora to a certain patient in the hospital bed. After making sure the patient’s pillow was all fluffed up, covers all nice and fresh, and sneaking a couple sticks of Hi-Chew chewing gum into his hands, the constable gave the old man a crisp salute and marched out.

As he entered the hallway, he regrouped with Constable Jenny. She exited the nursing station, politely closing the counter door behind her and waving a thankful goodbye to some of the nursing staff. The two walked over to a vending machine to get some drinks, before sharing their findings.

Jenny pulled up her police tablet, opening her notes. “Felicia Harvey. Admitted through a 911 call where she received several lacerations across her face, eyes, forehead, and hit her head across the curb in a fall. The physician watching over her mentioned she had trouble walking in a straight line, lost her sense of balance, so she receives medication to reduce the symptoms. Was discharged about 7 AM when the doctors deem her able to take care of herself.”

“Guess she got more than stitches from that stunt in the viral video.” Jackson took a moment to guzzle half of his orange juice and let out a relaxed gasp. “Chandler Barnes, 68 years old, a retired baker. Is in for a fractured hip and happened to sleep on the bed right next to Felicia, riiiiight....there.” Jackson pointed for his partner, gesturing a bed occupied by a man in his mid 30s with a long moustache next to the elderly patient Jackson spoke to. “Chandler himself can’t leave his bed, so he pretty much had 24/7 watch over her. He mentioned Felicia rarely got out of her own bed, a depressed slump, throwing tantrums. She even has to yell for nurses to come over to take her to the bathroom as she couldn’t walk straight. On the night of Sarah Tucker’s murder he spent the whole night talking to her since he couldn’t sleep. She pretty much ignored him, but for sure she never left his eye sights.”

“Her alibi checks out then.” Jenny sighed as she made some quick hand notes to update them to the team Discord. “That just leaves--”

Jackson nodded and finished up his drink with a guzzle. “Time to give the good doctor a call. Come on.” He tossed the empty bottle into a recycling bin and head off. Jenny followed, quietly leaving her untouched orange juice next to a tired looking nurse balancing himself against the front counter.

They waded through the crowd of medical staff and side-stepped any patients that shuffled towards them. Once in a while they had to pin their backs to the wall as beds get pushed in between them. After a few more turns, they approached a certain door.

Only for it to suddenly open.

“Thank you Dr. Livesay for taking over for me.”

“It’s sad to see you go, I really enjoy working with you Dr. Malcolm.”

Dr. Samuel Malcolm walked out of his office with heavy steps. As he looked around the hospital halls, he dragged something from behind to rest it by his side. The constables recognized it as a luggage bag sitting on four 360 wheels. Another bag sat on top, hooked around the extended handle. The two physicians exchanged firm handshakes, nods, and smiles. Then Dr. Malcolm passed a letter to the hands of his companion. “Could you pass this over to the chief physician. I am afraid he’ll try to convince me to stay.”

“I’ll see to it he receives this and understand your desire.” The second doctor reached up to pat Dr. Malcolm on the shoulder. “Where will you go?”

“Oh. I don’t know. I think I’ll take a short vacation. Or who knows, maybe try another hospital out of town. St. Marlene’s been great to me but...” Dr. Malcolm was at loss of words and his friend nodded to say no more. After a few more words and goodbyes, the two doctors parted ways.

Dr. Malcolm puffed his cheeks with a deep sigh. He reached up to grab the top of his luggage handle, only to wince as he gripped his shoulder. With a few flex, he tried to shrug off the pain before walking away.

Only for Constable Jenny and Jackson to intercept him.

“Doctor.” Jackson nodded as he placed his hands on the luggage, using his weight to anchor it to the floor. “Where you going? Some place exotic?”

Jenny stood in front of the doctor, straightening her jacket, and holding up her C.I.D. badge. “Dr. Malcolm, where were you between 2 AM to 3 AM? Last time we interviewed you, you had been conducting a surgery. Is it the same now?”

Dr. Malcolm opened his mouth, only to look between both constables front and back. He blinked the confusion from his face and stuttered to answer. “I-I was, sorry give me a minute. I was exercising?”

Jackson raised an eyebrow. “2 in the morning?”

“I-it can’t be helped. Most of my surgeries usually happen over night. When I don’t have any appointments I just get restless so I go and train in a 24 hour gym place—Wh-what is this about by the way?”

Jenny took in a deep breath. “Can anyone vouch for you?”

“Uuuh. I was training until I sprained my arm on the elliptical. Then I spent the rest of my hours in the sauna to cool down. S-since not many people use the sauna late a night I was alone for the rest of--”

“What’s in the luggage?” Jackson tapped his knuckle onto luggage. “Hmm?”

“...Oh thaaaat?” Dr. Malcolm tried to tug his luggage, but Jackson pulled it back. “I-it’s Skellie....Sorry. I mean, this is my skeleton model. I brought it to St. Marlene a-and I won’t be working here any more so I thought I’d bring it with me back home—D-D-Detectives, could someone please tell me what is going on?”

Jenny exchanged glances with Jackson. After getting his nod, she braced herself. “Sarah Tucker was murdered—”

Dr. Malcolm nodded in confusion. “Th-that’s right. B-by the Splitter right? O-or her husband, I told you about her going back to him right?”

“—In between 2 AM to 3 AM, this early morning.”

“...Wait. Wait...You said, this morning?”

Jenny nodded. Jackson went into a football stance, the ball being the luggage in his grip.

Dr. Malcolm stared at Jenny for a long moment. The skin around his neck began to reddened. He stepped forward, making Jenny touch the frame of her holster under her jacket. His voice could barely leave his throat. “Sarah...Murdered...just this morning?”

“That, is correct.”

“So...she was alive, the entire time?”

“Yes.”

Dr. Malcolm started to shake. His lips open, and close, open, and close. Whatever word he tried to say turned into an incoherent slur. The doctor’s lips pursed, so hard they became white, he staggered to drop his back against the wall. His knees could only lock themselves to keep him propped up...but all he wanted to do was shake his head. “If, sh-she wasn’t dismembered, h...how did she die, this morning?”

Jenny clenched her jaw. A short glance up at the ceiling to steel herself, and she spoke as professionally as possible. “I am sorry. Due to the sensitivity of the case, I cannot say.”

Dr. Malcolm’s knees gave out and he fell sitting on the floor. Whatever business was going on in the background slowed to a halt. Medical staff, patients, even visitors all froze in place, stopping time together. They all turned their gaze onto a fully grown man who started to hug his knees. Dr. Malcolm pulled off his glasses, tears spilling out. He wiped some away before pressing his chin into a palm, then his entire mouth. The color on his face turned redder, the whites in his eyes a fine shade of rose pink.

“I’m sorry...I’m so sorry.” Dr. Malcolm uttered those words as he kept hugging his knees against the wall. “I shouldn’t have let her go. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to be this way.”

Jackson quietly looked around him. All eyes were on Dr. Malcolm and his fallen state. Medical staff that knew him slowly came over, ready to step in to help. Patients that were familiar with the doctor also gripped at their hearts, unsure of what to say to repay his kindness to them.

This...had become a difficult situation.

Even so, Jenny took one small step forward and knelt down in front of the doctor. “Dr. Malcolm. Did you kill Sarah Tucker?”

“It’s all my fault.” Dr. Malcolm shuddered a nod, pulling at his hair as he cried. “I should have insisted she stay by my side, then she wouldn’t have to die. I shouldn’t have started anything in the first place. I...I’m a murderer. I got her killed because I let her go. I let her go. I let her gooooo...”

Jenny bit on her lip, but did not hesitate. She pulled out her cuffs, and spun them onto Dr. Malcolm’s wrist. “Dr. Samuel Malcolm, you have the right to remain silent. Anything—”

Bing

Jackson heard a notification on his phone and pulled it out from his vest. One glance at a message, and he immediately gave a sharp tweet with his lips and gestured with a slashing hand over his neck.