The first thing Paavo saw as he stepped off the elevator was the pool of blood on the plush carpet between Angie’s and Stan’s apartments. Angie had phoned him and told him someone had broken into Stan’s apartment and stabbed him. Stan had managed to crawl across the hall and knock until she opened the door. Paramedics were with him, and the police were on their way.
Both apartment doors stood open. Paavo’s heart contracted painfully at how close such horror had come to Angie’s quiet, elegant home. He glanced quickly into Stan’s apartment. A patrolman had secured it until the crime scene investigators and the Crimes Against Persons detail arrived. He looked over the apartment, at the trail of blood from the bedroom to the front door and into the hall. Then his gaze fixed on a rose petal lying on the ground, and to the bouquet on Stan’s coffee table. Roses. Another knife attack and roses.
He glanced over the room quickly once more. Robbery didn’t seem to be the motive here. His eyes returned to the roses. Could it be coincidence? Lots of people had roses, after all. No, this was no coincidence.
He hurried into Angie’s apartment. She was speaking quietly with a patrolman. Her hands, arms, and face were bloodied. Although he knew she hadn’t been hurt, that the blood had to be Stan’s, seeing her that way made him weak. She turned, and their gazes met.
In a moment, she was in his arms and he held her tight against his chest. He saw no tears, but her face wore a scared, hollow look that tore at him.
The patrolman walked up to Paavo, ready to question him, when he pulled out his badge. “Smith, Homicide.”
“Gribbs, Central.” The policeman sent a questioning glance from Paavo to Angie, and stepped back.
“Are you okay?” Paavo asked Angie, even as he ran his hands over her to assure himself that she was.
She nodded, then took a deep breath. “I was asleep when I heard a banging on my door.” She shivered, and Paavo helped her to the sofa. He kept his arms around her. “I looked out the peephole, but couldn’t see anything, then I heard someone moan. It was Stan, Paavo.” Her voice broke. “It was awful.” She put her face in her shaking hands. Paavo hugged her closer.
He looked at Gribbs. “Did you see the wounds?”
Gribbs nodded. “The cuts looked pretty deep. High, on his shoulders, front, and back.”
“I’ve got to go to the hospital,” Angie said, then glanced down at her bloodstained bathrobe. “I’ve got to dress.”
Paavo helped her walk toward the bedroom. Her legs were wobbly as her adrenaline diminished, and the shock of finding her friend that way began to settle in. “I’ll drive you there when you’re ready,” he said.
“Paavo, do you think that patrolman will let you into Stan’s apartment to get his address book from his desk? I’d better telephone his parents. They live somewhere in Nebraska.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Why, Paavo?” she looked up at him.
“Why?”
“Why would anyone want to hurt Stan?”
The question hung between them, unanswered, as Paavo drove across the city to San Francisco General. When they arrived, Stan was already in surgery, and they were directed to the waiting area. Earlier, while Angie dressed, Paavo had phoned Yosh and asked him to get over to Stan’s apartment. It wasn’t a homicide, yet, but it was connected to the two they already had. He’d stake his life on it.
When he’d gone to get Stan’s address book, he’d told the robbery inspector that Yoshiwara would be on his way to take over the investigation.
Now, as they sat and waited for the doctor to let them know how Stan came out of the surgery, Angie gradually calmed down and Paavo asked the question he’d been wondering about since his quick look around Stan’s apartment.
“Did Stan tell you who gave him the roses?” Paavo asked.
“Roses? I didn’t know he had any.”
“Okay.”
“Is it important?”
“It’s nothing.” He kissed her forehead as she rested her head on his shoulder. She was exhausted by the whole experience, physically as well as emotionally. He’d ask her more about the roses later, when she was more focused.
It was 7:00 A.M. before they got word that Stan was out of surgery and in intensive care. He’d lost a lot of blood, but nothing vital had been hit. With any luck, the prognosis was excellent. Paavo would try to question him, but he’d be surprised to find Stan coherent in much less than twenty-four to thirty-six hours.
Paavo took Angie back to his house. Something was going on that was very, very wrong, and much too close to Angie to suit him. He worried about her being alone. There was no logical reason, though, why he should worry about her.
Was there?