Fatal Encounters
After the remains of several females have been found in the murky waters of Pennsylvania’s Delaware River, State Police Detective Jerry Hallen is assigned the task of identifying and tracking down the killer. Thanks to Forensic Sculpture he is able to identify one of the women and from that he is on a crusade to apprehend the killer, a man who seduces women, and then kills them, without remorse in a very ghastly fashion to satisfy his sexual appetite. This is the story of how this quest for justice happens and unfolds. This is the first chapter in a serial novel by Irv Pliskin.
Chapter 1
White haired, portly, obviously American, he was standing at what he considered the main entrance of Harrods in Knights bridge, London
American from the clothes: he was overdressed for the time and the occasion. Blue button down oxford shirt, striped rep tie, Brooks brothers three-button blazer jacket in a rich navy blue and light but beautiful gray flannel slacks. He wore dark brown, thick- soled bluchers and solid color black socks.
He looked like what he might have been: an Ivy league undergraduate 30 yeas earlier.
In his arm,s he carried a large, five-pound box of Godiva chocolates, and affixed to the box was a spray of white and red roses.
9:55 A.M., British mean time. The e-mail had sad meet me at Harrods at ten tomorrow . . . and he was there, dressed and anxious and ready.
He didn’t know for what.
He didn't even know if she would appear.
He had merely emailed back, I will be there and he called the airlines, made a reservation, packed a small bag, took $l000 dollars out of the savings account - -in twenties -- and his passport. That was all.
The plane landed at Heathrow at 6 AM, as they all do. The cab ride to the Hyde Park area was excruciatingly long. It wasn’t even one of those tall, black hacks that are so comfortable in London. The cab was a badly sprung Mercedes that bumped and growled and coughed all the way to the city.
Fortunately, the cabbie spoke English, but his cockney accent was so thick it was almost impossible for him to determine what he was saying. He knew he was called governor a few times, but that was about it. But here he was, on time and waiting. If she came, and he was convinced she would, then what? How would they know each other?
He thought it would be up to her. After all, she could tell he was an American. How many Americans would be hanging around the front door of Harrods at l0 AM on a Thursday morning looking at all of the ladies with questioning anticipation?
By l0:l0, he was beginning to feel pretty foolish. What a stupid freaking thing to have done, he thought. Absolutely stupid. He decided to wait another five minutes before he abandoned hope and then decide what to do next.
Eliana. He was craning his head around when an absolutely stunning, woman, walking at almost a run came into the area of the door. She looked around, breathing hard from her exertion, saw him and walked over.
"Carl?" she asked. "Pardon me sir, Are you Carl?"
He was speechless. He could only nod his head yes. This creature was absolutely dumbfounding. Superb. Wonderful. Angelic. He even thought he saw a halo around her superbly coifed brown hair.
"Are you, are you Eliana?" he asked.
"Yeth," she said, lisping slightly. "Yeth, I ammmmm Eliana.”
He was taken aback for a moment by the stammer. But then, all they had ever done was send e-mails. How could he have known about the stammer or the lisp, and as he looked closely, the carefully cosmetically disguised lip scar that signified a cleft palate.
He thrust the chocolates at her. She shook her head,
"On no," she said, "I can’t accept that."
"Of course you can," he said. "I bought them for you from the duty free shop. You have to accept them. I don’t have anything else to do with them".
"But, but..".
"Listen, is there a coffee shop here? I need some coffee, I was up most of the night getting here, and I need a little bit of a pick me up."
"Thorry" she said. I ddn't realithe
They found a table in the juice bar, and he ordered coffee for himself and tea for her.
He looked at her carefully, a and she sat, staring back as he gazed at her. She didn’t flinch, but examined him as carefully as he was her.
"You’re beautiful," he said finally. "Absolutely beautiful."
"No," she said, "I'm not. I lithp and I have this scar," .pointing to her lip.
"Nonsense," he said. "Nonsense"...and quoted:" A sweet disorder in the dress...
and that doesn’t only mean clothing you know.".
He stopped, there were tears forming in her eyes, and she was reaching for a handkerchief to wipe them.
After finishing their coffee and tea, he suggested that they go to his hotel, down the street to "freshen-up."
As they walked into the Kensington Manor Hotel,
Eliana thought for a moment that perhaps she should hand him the box of chocolates and flowers and let
him take them up to the room. while she waited in the ornate lobby.
She hardly knew him. Although she found him somewhat attractive, she certainly was not yet ready for involvement of any kind. She knew that sometimes men misunderstood a woman going to their hotel room.
Then she decided that no, not going with him could be considered an insult. Go with him, she decided, and
see what might happen.
She was confident that she could handle something untoward, and should something happen, that would help her decide about this bizarre adventure.
They rode an elegant, mirrored lift to the third floor, where he opened
a door to a superbly decorated, luxurious and obviously expensive hotel room.
“The cabbie thought that this place would have a room that would be suitable for me. And it does. It even includes a full British breakfast. Would you like to freshen up, before we go out?”
She nodded, walked into the bathroom, closed the door, used the facilities, and washed her face and hands.
After she came out, he went in to do the same. While he was occupied, she looked around casually, noticing his quality luggage and the few articles of well tailored clothing hanging neatly in the open sliding door closet.
“Well,” he said, “shall we go?”
They went out into the now bustling streets.
“Listen,” she said, “might we start at the Royal Academy? You’ve probably been there before, and I know I suggested places Americans don’t often get to, but I think it may be much more interesting than wandering around London’s back streets. They have some great new exhibits, too. How about it, will that do for you as a start?”
”That would be great. I haven’t been there in years. Isn’t Fortnum and Mason across the street? Do I have that right? Do I remember that correctly?”
”Yes, you’re right.”
“Good, do they still serve those great lunches with roast beef and
Yorkshire pudding from a trolley?”
“I don’t know, I have never been there for lunch. It is much too pricey.”
“Well, let’s go to the museum and we’ll see when lunch time comes around.”
“The underground is just this way,” she said, “right over there.”
“Oh no, We'll take a cab. It's much easier and that way you can show me the interesting sights we pass. I have never had a native do that. It will give me a different point of view. When the cabbies explain things, I often have trouble understanding their cockney. ”
“Yes,” she said, “it can be a bit of a trial if you aren’t familiar with it. You know how ‘tis, 'guvnor”," she said, accurately mocking the speech of the cabbie who had driven him from Heathrow.
He chuckled, "You do that very well,” he said "for a girl who lisps."
She blushed. "I only lisp when I am nervous," she said. "I’m not nervous now."
"That's’ good," he said. "I’m happy you are relaxed."
"Me too, 'guvnor'," she said, smiling.
“Have you ever been to the States, Eliana?”
“No. I haven’t traveled much. I’ve been to Paris once or twice, and I went to Amsterdam a year or so ago. But that’s about it. I can’t really afford it. It costs so much to live these days, I’m lucky I could afford a computer and the costs of the web.”
“Oh. You know, I am not sure. I know what you do. Don’t you work in an office?”
“No, I work in a shop. I work for one of the large antique furniture houses. I’m something of an expert, well their expert at least, in English China, Wedgwood, Spode, Mintners, things like that. I took a holiday today to meet you.”
“Well, I hope you aren’t disappointed.”
“Heavens no. You have been a joy to be with so far, and we have a whole day to spend and look and investigate.”
She was art knowledgeable. She walked with him through the museum galleries pointing out important paintings, and the techniques and the messages often hidden in the work.
He was enthralled.
She stopped in a small gallery, and was truly excited.
"Look, Look," she said, "they have some new paintings by Munnings."
"Munnings, who is Munnings?"
"Oh don’t you know? Sir Alfred Munnings. He was just great. He lived in East Anglia and he caught the feeling there beautifully. He was famous for his pictures of horses and I just love his work."
He stood with her and admired the bright colors, the rich textures and the striking perfection of the horses.
When his stomach began to rumble he stopped her and said. “It’s lunchtime. Let’s go to Fortnum and Mason.”
“Are you sure? It is so expensive.”
“Yes, I’m sure. I'm on a holiday too, so don’t worry about it. I assure you I can manage it, truly. Lunch there will just add to this superb adventure we are having.”
Sitting at a window table in the St. James dining room on the fourth floor, Carl asked, “Would you like some wine?”
“No, just tea please.”
They ordered. Prawns first and then the roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.
The roast arrived on a rolling cart he knew the British called a trolley.
When it was carved at their table the thick slices of beef filled the plate and hung over the sides.
"Blime," she said, "I can’t eat all of that. It is far too much for me.'
"Do what ever you can. Just eat and enjoy."
“You know, You Brits don’t have much of a reputation for
fine cuisine. Not like the French. But I think that that’s wrong. It's French propaganda. This place is really quite good, and there are lots of other places that are outstanding. Some of the pubs I’ve been to serve extraordinary food.”
“Have you been here to England, often?”
“Well, I brought the family, my wife and kids, over here one
Christmas years ago.” He chuckled. “That was almost a disaster. We arrived Christmas eve, and I didn’t know we had to have a reservation for dinner the next day. We almost went without food. I finally found a Chinese restaurant that was open and we ate there. I think the son of a gun over charged us, badly. When they brought the entire steamed fish to the table, head and all, I think my kids almost stopped being hungry."
He looked up to see the stricken look on her face.
“Eliana, what’s the matter?”
“Oh, nothing. You’re married then. Left the wife back home for this adventure? To have a fling?”
“No, no, I’m not like that. She and the kids were killed in an auto
accident. They were hit by a drunken truck drive in an eighteen
wheeler.”
“Oh, my lord. I’m so sorry. What’s an eighteen wheeler?”
“I guess you’d call it a lorry. It was terrible. The only good thing
about it is that after a lot of time I won a really big law suit. It
made me a wealthy man. It’s a hell of a way to make money though."
"Oh, Carl, I'm so sorry. You poor, poor man.”
“How would you know? I deal with it pretty well now. It was almost five years ago, and I sometimes don’t think of it, for at least an hour or two.”
“You know,” he said “that transatlantic trip and the excitement of the day has gotten to me. I’m afraid I have to go to sleep. Will you meet me for breakfast at the hotel tomorrow.? I’m sure they will accommodate you even if I have to pay the double room rate.”
“But I have to work.”
“See if you can’t get some time off, please. I don’t want to beg, but please.”
She nodded her head.
“Good.” he said. I’ll see you tomorrow at 8, will that be okay?
Comm on, I’ll get us cabs.”
“No,” she said, “I’ll take the tubes.”
As he got in the cab, he watched her walk briskly and purposefully to the nearby underground station.
He would be able to give her her gifts in the morning. Now, he had to go to sleep, the time lag and the excitement had caught up to him.
