Riverton Pt. 01

"This was a pretty good week for me," I said and began to laugh. "That is except for three DSL installs that were a little out of the ordinary." All of the DSL installs I did were in customer's homes and I ran into a lot of strange situations during these installs. Holly always enjoyed my stories about the strange things that occasionally happened.

"Monday night I went over to the old house on the corner of Third and Utica."

"... that old Victorian?" Holly said.

"That's the one," I said. "I rang the doorbell and someone called out from the back of the house and told me to come in. When I walked in I noticed newspapers had been laid on the floor leading back to the kitchen. No one came out to greet me so I identified myself and why I was there. Someone in the kitchen called out and told me to come back there. Looking at the newspapers on the floor again I figured that they must have mopped or waxed the floors and didn't want me to walk on them yet so I started across the room stepping only on the newspapers. I was halfway across the room before I realized my mistake. The papers were not laid on the floor for me to walk on but to cover up several accidents my client's three puppies had in the living room."

"The dogs peed on the floor?"

"No, little piles of puppy poop."

"Oh, yuck!"

"Exactly. It was embarrassing trying to explain to the customer why I walked on the piles of poop. The customer wasn't real happy and needless to say I threw those shoes in the trash when I got home."

"Did the customer file a complaint?"

"No. I guess they realized that they were at least partly at fault for not meeting me at the door and telling me not to step on the papers.

"Anyway, on Wednesday evening I had a call at those new condos on the north side of town near the river. This guy comes to the door is dressed in boxer shorts and a sleeveless undershirt. He was about five foot nothing, fat, bald and was wearing a pair of glasses that looked as though they were made from the bottoms of a couple of Coke bottles. On top of that, he was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and the jelly was running down his hand to his wrist and there was a big glob of jelly on his undershirt. He reminded me a little of Danny DiVito and when he spoke he sounded like Truman Capote. I almost burst out laughing."

"That's quite a picture," Holly said.

"There was almost no furniture in the place. No kitchen table or chairs and there were only two chairs in the living room. His computer was set up on a card table in one of the bedrooms."

"Well he was probably just moving in," Holly said.

"That's what I figured too. Then, when I sat down at his computer to configure the DSL modem there was a gun sitting next to the keyboard."

"He actually left a gun lying on the table where you had to work?"

"Yep. I asked him to remove the gun but instead of taking the gun he asked me if I was afraid of guns.

"I told him I wasn't but I didn't feel comfortable with his gun being right there where I was working. He said it wasn't loaded and then asked me if I even knew what kind of gun it was. It looked like the guns you see on all of the cop shows on television so I said it looked like a nine millimeter. Turned out to be a good guess.

"He told me to go ahead and check to make sure it wasn't loaded. I had no clue how to do that. So he stood there, still eating his sandwich while he told me how to eject the clip and pull the slide back to make sure the gun was empty. The clip was empty and there wasn't anything in the chamber either. I tried to hand the gun back to him but he said he didn't want to get peanut butter and jelly on it so he asked me to put the clip back in leave it on the table."

"Did he say why he left his gun on the table?" Holly asked.

"No. I'm guessing that he bought himself a gun so he could feel like a tough guy,"

"You would think that he would put the gun away knowing that you were coming to work on his computer," Holly said.

"You would think. Maybe he left it on the table just to see what I would do.

Like I said, he was just a strange little guy."

"What else happened?"

"Nothing, I got his computer up and running on the Internet and left."

"I'm not sure I like that story so much. I don't like guns and I don't like the idea of you being alone with a guy like that."

"He was harmless," I said.

"Well, I still don't like it. You said you had three stories," Holly said.

"The last install was on Thursday night. It was at an old farmhouse out on Old Hawley Road. When I pulled into the driveway two huge dogs ran out to the car and stood at my door growling at me. I had to wait in the car until their owner came out of his house and called them off. When I got out of the car the dogs sniffed me and then settled down. By the time I got to the porch both dogs seemed friendly. The problem with that was when I tried to pet one of the dogs the other would growl at me. The owner just laughed and said, 'don't worry about that, they just get a little jealous of each other.'"

"Were you scared?"

"A little bit. These dogs were big enough to eat me in about three bites. Anyway, when I walked into the house it was filthy. I could see cat hair all over the furniture and the house reeked of cat urine. The smell was so strong that it was difficult to breath. When I finally got to the computer and started working the guy's two-year old son comes over and stands as close as he can get to me and watches what I am doing. The guy said, 'Baby Tommy wants to watch you,' then he laughed.

"It might have been funny if the kid wasn't wearing an over loaded diaper. The smell from that diaper was literally making my eyes water and nearly triggered my gag reflex. I just couldn't understand how the father could not know the kid needed a diaper change.

"I had just finished setting up the home page for the guy when his wife came in. She noticed that the kid needed a diaper change immediately and asked her husband why he hadn't taken care of it and he said, 'Tommy wanted to watch didn't you baby?'

"As soon as I walked out the door I started sucking in fresh air so fast I almost hyperventilated."

Holly leaned over and kissed me. "You poor baby," she said. "I do love your stories but it isn't fair that my days are never as interesting or amusing as yours.

"Amusing? I'll trade dog poop and stinking diapers for your inventory any day."

Holly kissed me and said, "I'm sorry you had such a tough week, maybe this will make you feel better." Holly then pushed her tongue into my mouth and her hand into my pants. We ate dinner very late that evening.

That was three months ago. Since then things have settled down. I have been doing fewer DSL installs and having achieved our savings target Holly stopped taking her birth control pills two weeks ago and we started working on making a baby. Everything in my life was great until this past Tuesday.

Chapter 5 - The Troubles Begin - Tuesday June 10, 2008

Tuesday morning Holly and I had breakfast together and then as I was headed out the door Holly asked me what time I would be home.

"I don't have anything scheduled this evening so I should be home by 5:30," I said. "Why?"

"I was thinking we should have a quick dinner and then get back to work on making a baby."

"Sounds like a great plan to me," I said.

"I almost forgot, could you go over to JC Penney's and pick up my catalog order?"

"What did you order from Penney's?"

"Something that might come in handy tonight," Holly said.

"Oh, okay, I'll pick it up during my lunch break."

"Thanks Sweetie, love you."

"Love you too. Gotta go."

At five o'clock I shut down my computer, cleared off my desk and headed home. I was over halfway home when I realized that I had forgotten to pick up Holly's catalog order at Penney's. To go to the Riverton Mall, where the JC Penney store was located I would have to turn around and drive back past my office at PAP so I debated just going home and telling Holly I would pick the order up on Wednesday. I ended up turning around and going back to Penney's because I remembered what Holly had said about her purchase coming in handy that evening. I was thinking lingerie.

I called Holly from Penney's to tell her I was running late but she didn't answer the phone. I didn't bother to leave a message. When I got home at 6:35, Holly's car was in the garage so I was a little surprised when I walked into the house because it was so quiet. Holly always had music on when she was home alone. Not only was there no music but there was also no answer from Holly when I called out to her. Then I noticed the smell. It was familiar but I couldn't immediately identify it. Then it hit me. It smelled like someone had lit off a firecracker in the house.

"Holly?"

No answer.

"Holly, are you here?"

Again there was no answer. I was beginning to worry as I walked through the house. The smell got stronger the closer I got to the kitchen. Somehow I knew that whatever waited for me in the kitchen was not good. I dropped my briefcase and the bag from JC Penney's on the sofa and walked to the kitchen door.

I could feel my heart pounding inside my chest as I drew in a breath and forced myself to go into the kitchen. The sight that awaited me I will never be able to erase from my mind. Holly was lying on the floor in a puddle of her own blood. It appeared that she had fallen as she was trying to go out the back door. She was lying on her left side with her left arm extended through the partially opened door.

I called her name as I stumbled across the room but Holly did not respond. I pulled her head into my lap and checked her pulse in her neck as I pulled out my cell phone and punched in 911. Her pulse was faint but she was still alive.

"911 operator, what's your emergency?"

"I need help. My wife... I think she's been shot."

"What's your address?"

I gave the operator my address.

"Whom am I talking to?"

"Tom Blanchard. Please hurry, I think she's dying."

"Help is on the way. Now stay on the phone with me. Tell me what happened."

"I don't know what happened. I came home from work and found her on the floor. There is blood everywhere."

"Try to stay calm Mr. Blanchard. Is your wife breathing?"

"I think so. I can feel a faint pulse. Please hurry."

"Help should be there in a few minutes. Now, how do you know that your wife was shot?"

"I don't know... It's just the smell and all this blood."

"What smell?"

"It smells like a firecracker went off in the kitchen. What's with all the questions, my wife is dying. She needs help."

"Stay calm Mr. Blanchard. Help is coming."

Finally I heard sirens. I gently laid Holly's head down and ran to the door.

"Mr. Blanchard? Who shot your wife?"

"What? I don't know. I wasn't here when it happened."

As the emergency vehicles got closer I ran out to the street to flag them down. I still had my phone with me but I was no longer listening to the 911 operator and her endless questions.

The first vehicle to arrive was the fire emergency truck followed closely by a police car. The paramedics were still getting their equipment from the emergency response truck when the ambulance arrived.

The police officer that arrived with the paramedics was the first to reach me.

"Where is the victim?" he asked as he approached.

The two paramedics followed as I led the officer into the kitchen. The paramedics immediately went to work on Holly as the police officer began asking me questions.

"What's your name?"

"Tom Blanchard."

"What's the victim's name?"

"Holly Blanchard."

"Your wife?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I don't know. I found her like that when I got home."

"Is that your wife's blood on your hands and clothes?"

"Yes. I knelt down on the floor with her to check if she had a pulse while I called 911."

"Did you see anyone leaving the house when you came home?"

"No."

"Do you own a gun Mr. Blanchard?"

"No."

Just then more police arrived. One man, not wearing a uniform seemed to take charge. He gave orders to the uniformed officers and then approached me.

"I'm Detective David Olson, are you Mr. Blanchard?"

"Yes."

Detective Olson look to be about fifty. He was about five feet six inches tall and probably weighed around 160 pounds. He had silver hair that was quite thin on top.

"Tell me what happened here."

"I don't know. I came home and found my wife on the floor." As I turned to point to where I found Holly I saw the paramedics lifting Holly onto a gurney. The tubes from at least three IV bags were already pumping fluid into her body.

I looked at the pool of blood on the floor where Holly had been laying and I suddenly felt faint. I think I started to go down but Detective Olson grabbed my arm and held me up.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm a little light headed. I think I need to sit down."

Detective Olson followed me into the living room where I sat down on the sofa. It took me only a moment to start to feel stronger. The detective was just about to start asking me more questions when one of the paramedics announced that they were ready to transport Holly to the hospital.

"Can we do this later? I need to go with my wife."

"Go ahead. I'll see you at the hospital in a little while."

Chapter 6 – Waiting

My memories of the next hour are incomplete. I don't remember climbing into the back of the ambulance but I do remember holding Holly's limp hand as we raced to Riverton Memorial Hospital. Most of what went on in the emergency room is a blur. I do remember a nurse pushing me away from Holly and telling me to go to the waiting room. How appropriate is that name, 'waiting room.' What was I waiting for? Good news or bad news.

I have no idea how long I sat there before someone came to talk to me. I have no recollection of who he was. I think it must have been one of the doctors that had attended to Holly in the ER.

"Mr. Blanchard, we have stabilized your wife and she is now on her way to surgery," he said.

"Is she going to be all right?"

"I don't know. We don't yet know how serious her injuries are. We'll know more when she comes out of surgery."

"How long will that be?"

"Could be an hour or it might take several hours. It all depends on the extent of her internal injuries. I'm sorry I don't have more definitive answers for you."

I was then told where I should go to wait, another waiting room. On the way I stopped into a bathroom. When I looked at myself in the mirror I became violently ill. I just barely made it to one of the commodes before I began to vomit. When my stomach finally settled down I was able to look in the mirror again. The front of my shirt and pants was covered with blood, as were my hands. As I looked at my bloody reflection I felt another wave of nausea but it quickly passed. I managed to wash all of the blood off my hands but I couldn't do anything about my shirt or my pants.

I had been sitting in the waiting room for a little over an hour when Detective Olson arrived.

"Any word?" he asked.

"She's in surgery. They said it could be a few hours before I hear anything."

"How are you doing?"

"I think I am running on adrenalin and caffeine right now."

"Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

"Does it make any difference if I mind or not?"

"I know this is difficult for you but we have to do this. I am sorry."

"Go a head and ask your questions."

"Do you own a gun?"

"I already told the cop at the house I don't own a gun."

"Did that officer test your hands for GSR?"

"GSR?"

"Gun shot residue," Detective Olson said. "It's blow back from when you fire a gun."

"But I didn't fire a gun."

"We just have to verify that as part of our investigation. So, did the officer test you?"

"No."

"Did you wash your hands?"

I held my hands up so that Detective Olson could see them. "They were covered with blood. I had to wash them."

"We'll have to get your clothes later. We can test them."

"Fine."

Detective Olson continued to ask me question for the next two hours. He seemed to be asking me the same questions over and over only he worded them differently. It was obvious that I was his prime suspect and he was trying to trick me into a confession. This bothered me a great deal but there was nothing I could do about it. I was confident that once they looked at all of the evidence they would know that I didn't try to kill Holly.

It was 8:45 when the doctor finally came out to talk to me.

"Mr. Blanchard, I am Dr. Shah."

I tried to read his face to see if he was going to give me good news or bad news.

"How's my wife?"

"We have done everything we can for now," he said. "Your wife had two bullet wounds. One bullet entered from the back on her right side, went through her right lung and exited the intercostals space between ribs four and five. The second bullet entered her right side and struck rib number six. Hitting the rib fragmented the bullet causing a lot of internal damage. We were able to repair most of the damage. Mrs. Blanchard was in shock when she was brought in and slipped into a coma during the surgery. At this time we can't say for certain whether she we recover or not."

"How long before you know?"

"Could be a few days or it could drag on for a long time," Dr. Shah said. "We just have to hope for the best."

"When can I see her?"

"She'll be brought down from the recovery room to intensive care in a couple of hours. I think it would probably be best if you went home and got some sleep and then come back in the morning. There most likely won't be any significant change in her condition over night."

I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to leave Holly alone at the hospital but I didn't want to spend the night sitting in the waiting room either.

I looked at Dr. Shah and said, "If anything changes someone will call me immediately?"

"Of course."

Then I looked at Detective Olson. "If you are done questioning me I guess I will go home then."

"Is there somewhere else you can stay tonight?" Detective Olson asked. "You won't be able to stay at your house, it's a crime scene.

"I'll get a hotel room then but I need to go home and get some clothes," I said.

"I'll have an officer take you home and wait while you change. He'll need to bag the clothes you're wearing and bring them into our lab."

I had a sudden vision of the police lab on the CSI television program and almost laughed when I tried to imagine what kind of lab the Riverton police department would have. The moment passed quickly when the image of Holly lying on the kitchen floor in a pool of her own blood flashed into my head. I felt my legs giving out and I had to sit down while Detective Olson called the station to arrange to have an officer drive me home.

There were still police officers in my house when I got home. I wasn't allowed into the kitchen and I was escorted everywhere else I went in the house. The officer that brought me home waited in the room with me while I got undressed. He then bagged everything I was wearing including shoes, socks and underwear. I wanted to take a shower but I didn't want an audience so I elected to wait till I got to my hotel. The officer then watched me closely as I packed a few clothes into a suitcase and then he drove me to the Motel 8 on Broad Street.

End Part One