Free Pieces of the Puzzle by Robert Stanek Page A

dress. Scott touched his hand to hers as a sign to stop. She smiled, slipped the dress off her
     shoulders and it fell to the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra, only panties with a lace band. Her figure was nothing like the
     baggy clothes had suggested and everything like the name Helen suggested. She was striking, beautiful, vulnerable.
    She took his hand and pulled him against her. She kissed him on the lips. He kissed her forehead.
    She lay down, pulling him with her. She started unbuttoning his shirt, unzipped his pants and all the while, blew gently in
     his ear.
    He was aroused, couldn’t help but be aroused, and it made what he had to do all the more difficult. His body tensed all over.
     He started to stand.
    “Don’t leave me,” she whispered. “Please, I don’t want to be alone. Just close your eyes and go with it.”
    “Go with it?”
    “That’s what he told me when he raped me. Take the pain away. I want to feel. I want to hear the music.”
    He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. She continued blowing in his ear. But it wasn’t going to happen, not now, not ever.
     He rolled over onto the other side of the bed but kept his arm around her. “I’m not going to leave you, Helen. You sleep now.”
    For a long time she trembled. He kept his arm around her and stared up at the ceiling. He tried to imagine the warm body beside
     him was Cynthia’s, but that didn’t help anything. He wished he didn’t need Helen to find Jessica, but for the time being it
     was good that they needed each other. If Jessica was dead, Helen was his only link to the killer, the assignment, the whole
     mess.
    Eventually he slept, but only for a few hours. He awoke around eleven and knew the entire night was ahead.
    He found Helen’s purse and rummaged through it. Hidden in a side pocket was a small .22 gun. He wasn’t surprised. He found
     a few pictures: One of her and Jessica—there was a strong family resemblance. She had twenty-seven dollars in her billfold,
     a few dollars in coins in the change compartment. He didn’t find any drugs, not even prescription, which did surprise him.
     And there was a note:
    Helen, see you Sunday at Pete’s.
    Celebration. Bring your happy mood.
    He glanced over to the bed. Helen was still asleep. She had kicked the blankets off, and her breasts were like beacons. He
     decided to take a cold shower.
    He was stepping out of the shower, reaching for a towel, when he saw it. It was barely visible under the clear plastic garbage
     bag, but it was there. He dried himself quickly, wrapped the towel around his waist. He lifted the bag out of the trash can,
     revealing a covered dish. The kind room service used. He smiled, hurried out of the bathroom. His suit was draped over a chair.
     He was putting on his boxers when he heard her shift in the bed.
    “Nice,” she said, “very nice. Bring those muscles back over here.”
    He continued dressing. “Give it a rest, Helen. Go back to sleep.”
    She started crying.
    “Are you seeing a therapist?”
    “No head shrinker can tell me what’s wrong with me. I know, I know all too well.”
    “You’d be surprised. You’re confused. You need help.”
    She pulled the bed sheet over her head. “Where are you going?”
    “I think I have a lead. Sleep, we’ll talk in the morning.”
    He finished dressing, then waited to make sure she went back to sleep. He grabbed the covered dish from the trash can and
     made his way to the lobby. Only two clerks were behind the desk now. One of them was the clerk he spoke to earlier.
    He slammed the plate onto the counter. “Who made this delivery?”
    The clerk came over. “Is there something wrong, sir?”
    “Yes, there is.” He scowled. “I need to know when this was delivered. Her blood-sugar level is all messed up, and you did
     it!”
    “I would ask you to lower your voice, sir.”
    “Lower my voice? How’s this?” Scott shouted.
    The clerk went over to the computer terminal. “Jessica Johnson,