Page 7 of The Drowned Woman
More likely Walt didn’t want to give up driving, Leah thought. Dementia patients lived in a world of denial and immediate gratification; if they wanted something, they wanted itnow, and refused to accept the limitations of their condition. “I brought an ambulance.” Leah patted his arm. “Just for you. To take you to Trudy.” She hoped he wouldn’t remember her lies, but it was the best way to protect him. “Are you ready?”
Two more steps and he stopped again, this time frowning down at his feet. Leah had navigated him past the broken glass—danger he seemed oblivious to—but now there was a new problem. He tugged against her arm, reluctant to move forward. Somewhere deep inside the confusion that roiled his brain, he knew he shouldn’t go outside in bare feet. “Walt, do you know where your slippers are?”
He glanced around, then spotted Risa at the door. Somehow, he didn’t seem to notice Harper or the men with guns. “Risa, what have you done with my shoes?” he snapped. Then he told Leah, “Risa is our cleaning lady. She likes to play games. Hides everything.”
Leah knew this was what he believed even if it obviously wasn’t true. The police kept Risa from moving closer, so she called out from the door, “Sorry, Walt! Try the closet by the door, I think there’s a pair of slip-ons.”
“Perfect,” Leah said as she continued to coax Walt down the short hallway leading to the door. Harper pulled Risa back onto the landing, to make room for the paramedics, who wheeled a stretcher within sight. The closet door and the outside door both had childproof latches to guard against Walt’s wandering, Leah noticed. She opened the closet door—just a few inches, far enough to reach in and pull out a pair of loafers, but not enough to block the police officers’ view of Walt. She knelt, helped Walt into the shoes. Beneath his pajamas she could see the evidence of wasting and muscle loss that came with his disease. Now that his anger and agitation had passed, he really did pose no threat.
“We’re going to pick up Trudy,” he declared as they finally emerged from the apartment. Luka and Harper watched from a spot near the elevators, out of the way of the medics and SWAT guys who still held their guns at attention, aiming at Walt.
Leah ignored them, focusing on Walt. “That’s right, Walt. These nice men are going to take you in the ambulance. That way you won’t be tired when you see Trudy.”
He sank onto the stretcher, his shoulders sagging as the medics raised his feet and helped him lie back. “I’m so tired.” His eyes fluttered shut, but he still held Leah’s hand in a surprisingly strong grip. The medics made quick work strapping him to the gurney, including wrist restraints. Then Walt opened his eyes and stared at Leah with a gaze clouded with sorrow. “Trudy. She’s gone. Put me to sleep, please. I don’t want to…I can’t—she can’t…” Tears choked him, and his entire body shook. His gaze landed on Risa, who leaned on her walker behind Leah. “Risa. Please. It’s over. It all needs to end. Please.”
Leah leaned against the gurney. She stroked his arm, squeezed his hand in hers. “It’ll be okay, Walt. Just lie back, close your eyes. It’ll all be okay.” She hated how convincing her lies were. Walt closed his eyes once more and dropped her hand.
She stepped back, suddenly feeling drained herself. “You guys might need Haldol,” she told the medic in a low voice.
“Got it, doc,” he said. “Med control said his doctor is waiting at Good Sam, has a room on neuro-psych ready for him.”
“Good. Thanks.” She sagged against the railing—not far from the spot where Trudy had gone over, she realized when she glimpsed yellow police tape from the corner of her eye. But she didn’t care, she was so tired, more exhausted than after a trauma in the ER. She watched the medics, accompanied by Harper and the SWAT guys, leave in the elevator.
“Good job,” Luka said as the doors closed behind them. “When can I talk to him?”
Leah shook her head. “Probably not for a while—later today, maybe not until tomorrow if he requires sedation. He’s going to get agitated again, may never be able to tell you much.”
He considered that. “But you’ll help, right? Get him talking to us?”
“As soon as his physician allows, we can do a forensic interview at Good Sam.”
Risa Saliba approached, her weight sagging against her walker. She seemed wary of Luka but caught Leah’s eye. “Can we talk? When you’re done?”
The elevator doors opened and Krichek appeared along with the building manager, Cliff. “Got the warrant to secure the premises, boss.”
Cliff turned to Risa. “Can I help you home?” he asked, one hand on her elbow.
She shook it off and straightened, pushing her walker toward the corner apartment. “I’m fine.”
“Mr. Vogel,” Luka said before the manager could follow Risa. “We’ll need a list of residents along with contact information, plus any information you can share about suspicious activity, and details about building maintenance and security.”
Cliff stared after Risa like a lost puppy. Then he jerked and refocused on Luka. “Yeah, sure, whatever you need.”
“You called 911,” Luka continued as Krichek took notes. “Can you tell me what you saw?”
“Already told him and the first cops.” Cliff nodded to Krichek.
“I’d rather hear it straight from you if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, okay. I was a little late today, usually I’m here by eight, but my car wouldn’t start at first, so I got here around eight-ten, eight-fifteen.”
“You came in through the front door?”
“Me? No, that’s for residents and guests. I come in the back. Maintenance entrance. There’s a hall, comes out beside the mail room behind the desk. So I’m coming down the hall and even before I open the door behind the desk, I hear screaming. Like something out of a horror movie. I ran the rest of the way and came through and—” He stopped, swallowed, his Adam’s apple jerking. “And then I saw. It was Miss Trudy. Lying there. Blood everywhere. And up top was Mr. Walt, crying and wailing like a baby. Miss Risa must’ve heard him, too, because she came and got him to go back to his apartment. And I—I called the cops and they came and that was it.”
“Any history of trouble in the building?” Luka asked.
Cliff appeared surprised by the question. “Here? Nope. I’ve been here eleven years and only time cops ever came before was one Halloween a drunk pushed past Mr. and Mrs. Robeson, got through into the lobby. But no one was hurt or nothing.”
