The Phyllis Files Ch. 03

"Just one more question." Phyllis said. "Does Paul have any friends?

"Yeah, Kevin has been pretty good to him since he got home, and a couple of guys from his National Guard unit." said one of the women. "One guy, named Saul Gable, he and Paul hang out a lot. 'Paul and Saul' we call them."

"And you've been dating Mr. Saul Gable, haven't you?" asked Phyllis, seeing the light in the woman's eyes.

"How did you know that?" the woman asked, her amazement quickly turning to suspicion. Phyllis quickly concluded the interview.

"What's next?" Cindy asked.

"Better call Saul." Phyllis quipped, thinking of the television show Breaking Bad.

Cindy groaned. "And the jokes don't get any better, do they?"

---------

Strangely enough, Saul Gable was located at Paul and Lisa Goldman's home. When Cindy and Phyllis arrived, they walked right into a shouting match between husband and wife, with Gable trying to referee.

"Officers," said Lisa, "I want to press charges for domestic abuse against my husband. I want you to get him out of here, right now!"

"Officers," Saul Gable said, "Paul has done nothing to his wife, neither physical nor verbal." That started up another shouting match between the three, until Cindy got out her police whistle and blew it as hard as she could.

"Okay, now that I have your attention," Cindy said, "I'm going to end this before it becomes an official Police matter. Saul, can Paul stay with you for a few days?"

"Sure." said Saul.

"Paul, go pack a bag." Cindy said. "Lisa, can you stay with friends for a few days?"

"I guess so... but why do I have to leave my home?" Lisa snarled.

"Because it's not just your home, it's your husband's also." Cindy said. "I've already looked up the title deed. And I'm officially calling it a crime scene, so neither of you will be staying here for at least two days. Pack bags, Lisa first. Paul, into the kitchen with me. Detective Troy, talk to Saul."

"Hello, Saul." Phyllis said. "Let's sit down, shall we?" Saul complied. Phyllis looked Saul over. He was youngish, about Paul's age, late 20s, handsome with dark brown hair, broad shoulders, and a good physique. Phyllis also noted the large bulge in his pants.

"Tell me, what are your relations with the Goldmans?"

"Paul and I were in the same unit in Afghanistan." said Saul. "We were pretty good buddies. We both got wounded in the same grenade accident, and both got sent home, though my wounds weren't that bad, just shrapnel in the leg. I think they sent me home more to look after Paul than because of my own wounds."

"Ah, so you were there at the time. Out of curiosity, what happened?" Phyllis asked.

"We were in our tents; it was off-duty time." said Saul. "I remember hearing someone shout, then *BOOM!* and my leg was bleeding. Paul's tent was closer to the grenade blast than mine, he got more of it."

"How has Paul been doing since returning home?" Phyllis inquired.

"Pretty good, actually." Saul said. "I don't think he has the PTSD the doctors are trying to say he has. I think they're trying to generate business for themselves. That's the only problem he has, having to fight a legal battle against them."

"How well do you know his wife?" Phyllis asked, peering closely at Saul Gable as she asked the question.

"Pretty well." said Saul. "I've been friends with both of them for years. They met at a party I was throwing. I was one of Paul's groomsmen, too."

"Would you say you know her as well as you know Paul?" Phyllis asked.

"No, when you've been to war with someone, you get to know him like family." said Saul. "I've known Lisa very well for years, we're good friends, we dated before she met and married Paul. But Paul is a war buddy, and that's just a different thing."

"How has Lisa been, these past few months?" Phyllis asked.

"Well, like a lot of military wives whose husbands are away, she's become a lot more independent, self-reliant. She's also been taking care of Paul while he's been recovering. He was having trouble walking for a couple of months. I think once he got his sexual function back, they were both a good bit happier, if you know what I mean. But then the last month or so... she's been under stress again. I asked her about it, and she just said things at work were hectic."

"Do you know what happened here the night before last?" Phyllis asked.

"Yeah, Paul told me." Saul said, shaking his head. "Ugly..."

"What do you think of their reactions, their fighting?" Phyllis inquired.

"I'm not married, ma'am," said Saul, "so I couldn't say what kind of stress it would be on me if my wife were raped in front of me. But it's really torn something open between them. I dunno, maybe that rift was there all along, and this is what opened it up. But it's ugly. I was trying to get them to talk, but she's so bitter about him going to the police, and he's just as upset that she won't cooperate with the police..."

Part 4 - Bringing It Home

I was at the FBI suite in the Federal Building on Courthouse Square when the phone rang. It was Jack Muscone in the City.

"Hey, buddy, what are you doing over there?" Jack asked, referring to my use of his computers.

"Oh," I said, "there's a rape case over here, and Ross wants to know the military record of the victim's husband. Not like I have anything to do at lunch. Eating is overrated."

"You're missing a double-cheeseburger opportunity at the Cop Bar, and Life is short." Muscone chided. "Anything of interest?

"Yep." I said. "The official story is that a pin fell out of a grenade and someone threw it into what they thought was an unmanned area. But it wasn't unmanned; two people got hurt. But I've also been looking at the notes in the file from officers investigating the incident. They couldn't tell for sure where the grenade came from, nor who actually had it in their possession before the incident. One officer made a notation that one of the two injured men could've exploded it."

"Why would they do that?" Muscone asked.

"Well, that's why I'm researching our husband's record. He was upset about having to go on a second tour, and then it was extended. His commanding officer and a couple of Sergeants made notations that he had been talking a lot about getting back home, and he'd tried to get leave to go home several times. This was after his buddy, who also was wounded in the accident, had just returned from leave for a family funeral. Gotta wonder if hubby set the grenade off himself somehow."

"To get back home?"

"Yep." I said. "Lots of 'coincidences' in that short amount of time over there..."

---------

"Thank you for the information, son." Phyllis said as she and Cindy drove back to Headquarters. After hanging up the cellphone, she told Cindy what her son had found in the military files. Then she went silent.

Cindy asked "Okay, you're thinking of something. Do you know what's going on?"

"Oh yes, this case is easy. Don's information cements it." Phyllis said. "Surely you see the answer."

"Nope, not even close, and don't call me 'Shirley'. Going to tell me who it is?" Cindy asked.

"No, not yet." Phyllis said, her mind in a reverie.

"Like son, like mother." Cindy said, no small amount of exasperation in her voice.

"Oh my dear, you are being very unfair to Don." Phyllis said reprovingly. "He really does tell you what he knows as soon as he feasibly can. As for me, yes, I'm holding back, and I have very good reason to. I'm remembering little Johnny Fortescue."

"Come again?" Cindy said, bewildered.

"Back in Apple Grove, when Don was about four years old, and his sister was twelve, there was a boy named Johnny Fortescue, who was about ten years old. His mother was an alcoholic. Well, one day she called the Police and said some money was missing. They found Johnny walking down the street, and the money was in his pocket. The Police threatened to put him in juvenile detention, and when he wouldn't tell what he was doing with the money, his mother threw him out of the house."

Phyllis continued: "Well, it turns out that the bank president came to Johnny's defense. He said that Johnny was taking some of the money his mother earned and was putting it in the bank to save it, so that his mother wouldn't buy alcohol with it. The Police didn't charge Johnny, but his mother forced the bank to return the money to her, which she promptly squandered on liquor. She still wouldn't let Johnny back in the house, and she drank herself to death within a year."

"Sounds like he was trying to do the right thing." Cindy said. "So what happened?"

"People only heard what they wanted to hear: that Johnny had stolen the money." Phyllis said. "Even after the truth came out, they treated Johnny like he was a thief. Don's father said Johnny was a bad kid, but worse, Johnny's teachers openly called him a thief and liar to his face in school. Other kids picked fights with him. One time he was beaten up so badly he had to be hospitalized. Finally, Social Services took him into their system, where he was put in several homes and was sexually molested in every one of them. He shot himself to death when he was sixteen."

"Oh, geez." Cindy groaned. "Just for trying to do a good thing. So how does that relate to this case?"

"It relates in that I need to get some very sound advice before I say anything to you, lest I do more harm than good." Phyllis replied.

To be continued.

Do you know what happened?

And who is the rapist?