Two techs finished photographing the body and wheeled it into position. Mary began with an external inspection, hovering inches over Drummond’s skin, speaking into the microphone clipped to her white suit. “The rope marks are clear. This indicates either willingness on the part of the victim to be bound, or that he was unconscious while he was bound. A struggle would have left more marks and bruising rather than a clean line that we see here.”
She finished the external exam with a fluorescing light over the skin. Blots of purple showed up on his genitalia and on his face. She motioned for the photographer to take a picture of the pattern. “Both samples appear to be semen. The location on the victim’s face, and the angle at which the body was discovered, indicate a second male in the room. That is, someone else ejaculated on the deceased’s face. We’ll send out for DNA testing.”
Court took a peek at Ivy; they had already thought a man was responsible. It was nice to have confirmation. He resisted holding up a hand for a high-five from her.
Mary stepped away so the techs could get into the body and turned to her witnesses. “While they prep the organs, I think this would be a good time to clarify that it is possible that someone, anyone, could have squirted semen on the victim’s face. However, I think the more likely scenario is that the victim was bound and pulled into position. The pattern of spray over the top of his forehead and nose indicate a male stood in front of him and ejaculated onto his face from slightly above. The pattern is more consistent with an ejaculate spray.”
The techs had emptied the organs onto the cutting board over the sink. “Let’s take a look at the parts here. There is a four-and-a-half-centimeter tumor in the brain, metastases throughout the brain, kidney, liver and lungs. He didn’t have much time left.”
She turned to the body again and spent a few minutes examining the neck and head. “The absence of congestion of face and neck above the ligature mark, lack of petechiae on the eyelids and conjunctiva leads me to conclude the cause of death was the obstruction of arterial flow to the brain due to backpressure on carotid arteries.” She turned to face them. “In other words, the weight of the head against the rope was in itself, sufficient to occlude the carotid arteries and cause death. He got tired, his head went down, and he lost consciousness. Because his weight remained on the rope, he never regained consciousness and died.”
Mary stepped back and crossed her arms, contemplating the scene for a moment before turning to the entourage. “All right, folks. I’m going to call this a definite homicide. His heart was fine. And, he most certainly did not do this to himself.” Mary rested her chin in one hand, finger tapping at her lower lip.
“So,” Court said. “Nothing surprising then.”
“Had to look in order to be certain.”
“It’s possible that some freaky game went too far and whoever was with him ran when they realized Drummond was dead. Or tied him up and left him to die,” Ivy said.
Court rubbed at his neck with both hands and turned to his boss. “Someone was with him, someone left him alone. It doesn’t matter to our investigation if Drummond was alive or not when he got left. We’re still looking for the same person, regardless of his intent.”
Stensland took off his glasses and rubbed at the indentations left by the nose pads. “I’m inclined to agree. We can figure out charges—murder, manslaughter, whatever—when we find our killer. Honestly, I’m betting murder, but you’re right. We just need to find him.”
“Or her,” Ivy added. “I know Dr. Coleridge said it looked like ejaculate, but a turkey baster could fake that pretty well.”
Stensland looked at her as if he’d forgotten she was in the room.
“I can test the turkey baster theory if you want,” Mary said. “If I can find a turkey baster that makes that kind of pattern, I’ll be surprised. The one I have at home isn’t forceful enough to do the kind of pattern we see here.”
Stensland shook his head. “We’ll come back to that if we need to.”
Mary bobbed up onto her toes and dropped to her heels. She was done with them and wanted them gone. “Anything else?” she asked.
“You think that tumor could interfere with his reasoning?” Court asked.
“It was interfering with all sorts of functioning. Reasoning, muscle control, memory. Do you have a specific concern?”
“Drummond didn’t use a code on his phone. Kinda odd given who he was.”
Mary shrugged. “Ask his wife about it. She’s the most likely to know that kind of detail about his condition. The day-to-day stuff. His memory could have been affected.”
* * *
Court grabbed Ivy by the elbow and ushered her out of there as Stensland turned back to the chief and the mayor. They delved right into a discussion about how to handle the press, a subject Court didn’t want to touch. Let Stensland handle all that shit.
“Walk with me to the courthouse. I have to be there in twenty minutes. It should take me maybe ten, fifteen minutes to testify and then I’ll be back at the office.”
“We knew it wasn’t suicide all along. What did that tell us other than the person who did it was a man? Or maybe a woman who had access to semen and a turkey baster or an accomplice?”
“We’ll get DNA from it. It will help at trial, at least.”
“I’m back to thinking Karen Hunter is involved with an accomplice. She made a second card key, gave it to another of her subs—maybe Duffy, maybe Schorr even—and had him off Drummond.”
Court didn’t feel it. Unless it had been some misguided attempt at assisted suicide. Take him out doing something he loved. But Hunter had appeared stunned at the news of his cancer. And why would Drummond agree to a plan that would so obviously point directly at Hunter?
He filled her in on his trip to Belle Nuit the previous night. “I think we should get a sample from Duffy and Schorr to see if either of them matches the semen.”
“So, maybe Duffy lied, and used his longtime history at Belle Nuit to cover?”
Court shrugged. Duffy wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave his semen on Drummond’s face, but maybe he didn’t know he was committing murder. “If Hunter set up something elaborate with Duffy, she could have lied to him. Had him thinking he was in some sort of sub war with Drummond and she would be letting Drummond down.”
“Duffy’s not a huge guy. You think he could fit the suit?”
“If Hunter lied about one thing, she could have lied about the suit. Provided him with a whole outfit to fool Drummond. Hell, maybe they didn’t even have to fool him. Maybe Drummond was in on it.” Court’s head ached from the possibilities.
47
Court turned off his phone to keep it from distracting him while testifying. Judge Griffith was known for his hatred of anything electronic. A good number of cops had been held in contempt for their equipment beeping too loudly while they were on the stand.
The jury was attentive, and Court did his best to smile and meet their eyes often. Some detectives were known for being so condescending to juries they worked against their own testimony. Court was used to taking the extra effort to be the “nice guy,” so it was easy for him. There was a lot of nodding of heads and note taking, anyway.
There was a much livelier buzz in the squad room when he entered. A lot of sympathetic smiles as he walked to his desk. If anyone had missed the news the previous night, they had caught up with it online this morning.
Stensland was standing in his doorway to his office, like a spider waiting for its web to jiggle. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward his office. “Langston, you too.”
Stensland shut the door behind them with an ominous thud. No one sat down. Stensland faced them across his desk, hands bunching into fists against the wood, leaning toward them. The extra flesh on his cheeks slid forward as his eyes ground into Court’s. “What the fuck happened?”
Court met his eyes, unwilling to take the fall for this bit of bullshit. “There was a leak. I haven’t had any chance to look into it.”
“You disappeared out of the autopsy suite.”
“I had to testify in the Allegheri case at nine. I think it went well.”
“It might be the only thing that goes well for you today, Pearson. Langston, you look like shit. Were you responsible for this disaster?”
“No sir.” Her voice quavered upward in tone, making her answer more of a question. “I don’t think so.”
Stensland leaned further across the desk, his face mere inches from hers. “Think? You. Don’t. Think. So.”
She squeezed her eyes shut at the barrage, swallowing hard before she spoke. “I took some files home, but they were locked in my car or on my person the entire evening. There is no way anyone could have got hold of them. That’s what I meant.”
“Now, I’m going to say this once. You two are on the thinnest ice possible here. Not only did someone get a photograph of Drummond trussed up like a pig, they let out he was involved with this Mistress Fidelma person. I have a good mind to pull the two of you off this case. Photos? Case photos out to the fucking press?”
There was no way Stensland was going to pull them. He was bluffing. Court was sure he could solve the case. They were getting close, he could feel it. “Sir, the information about the dominatrix came from a citizen source, completely legally free to speak his mind.”
Stensland grunted. He pointed a menacing finger toward the window. “I have to go out there and update the press later today. Now, instead of a simple piece on an ongoing investigation, I’m going to be attacked by a bunch of pinhead reporters trying to get the juiciest, dirtiest bit of gossip they can. They don’t give a flying fuck that Drummond is dead, they want to know what kind of pervert he was. And the news we got from the autopsy is he died because of some rope around his neck. I am sure Ingram is going to have a field day with that. You tell me, Pearson, how the hell did Ingram get the photos? You and I both know those are all in-house.”
Court didn’t have a clue. “I’ll get Ashena on it right away. If anyone can figure out who copied them off the system, she can.”
Stensland crossed his arms, eyeing Court, then Ivy, with long appraising looks. “Give me a reason, any good reason, why I shouldn’t pull you off this case.”
Court held Stensland’s gaze as an awkward silence fell over the room. He’d never seen the other man so angry before. “We have solid leads, sir. I think we’re close, and if you take us off now, we’ll lose the building momentum.” He paused. “Of course, if we are forced to hand over the case, whoever takes it will have to review everything we’ve done. Go over all the possible suspects we’ve already cleared.”
Court let the last words sink in. Stensland wasn’t an idiot. He had been angry and spoken out of turn. If he took away the case now, someone else would be asking questions about why Stensland had taken on calling the burner phones and be curious as to how he had cleared them all so quickly.
Stensland mimicked Court’s posture, but his voice remained tight. “You need to figure out how Ingram got those photos.”
“I’ll do that, too. After I find the killer.”
Ivy slapped the desk. “After we find the killer.”
“Right. After Langston and I find the killer, we’ll make sure we find the leak.”
“You have until Thursday. I want this thing wrapped up before that goddamn conference opens.”
48
Court dropped into his chair, scrubbing at his face with both hands. Was it only Tuesday? It looked like today was going to be another long haul.
Ivy leaned against the wall of his cubicle, coffee cup in hand. “I think we should pull Karen Hunter back in.”
“I know you do. Let’s go back over your theory again.” Court wasn’t liking it, but he had to give Ivy a chance to make her case or she’d never let it go.
“Karen Hunter made the card key and gave it to an accomplice—Duffy, or Schorr maybe—who was waiting for her call. When her son got sick, she found the perfect opportunity. She called her guy and had him show up at four thirty to get ready. She texted Drummond about canceling after he would already be on his way, and she knew him well enough to know he’d turn off his phone before crossing the bridge. The second text was a cover.”
This was pretty out-there, but Court needed to hear her out. He’d lost some objectivity around Hunter and needed to tread carefully. Her theory almost made sense, if they had some sort of motive for Hunter to kill her cash cow. “You think Hunter had an accomplice kill one of her favorite and best clients? The only evidence we have is there was semen on Drummond’s face. That could have been entirely consensual.”
“In what way is being killed consensual?”
“Not the killing. The ejaculation part.”
“That’s sick.”
“Would you drop the judgment? Why can’t you accept the fact people get off in different ways? How did you survive in Vice for three years?” He’d raised his voice louder than he had intended.
She glowered at him, glancing around the room. “She’s the one who told us Drummond was her best client. But she also has Duffy—he’s got deep pockets, too. And Schorr. And sixteen other clients. Maybe she didn’t even need Drummond. Maybe they worked together on this, giving Hunter the alibi while enlisting the aid of someone else. Let’s haul Hunter’s ass back in today, put some pressure on her, and suss things out. There’s not always a logical motive. You know that, Pearson.”
She was talking so fast Court was having a hard time keeping up. “You think Drummond and Hunter set this up together with a third person?”
“Hey, don’t rule it out as impossible. We know there was another man involved. The most logical solution is that Hunter made a key and wiped it from her logs. She says she doesn’t go into them, but she could be lying about that as well as everything else.”
Court didn’t like this theory much, but she was right. It wasn’t impossible. Not very probable, either. “So, you’re thinking they don’t want Hunter getting into trouble, so they find an accomplice willing to do the deed? They wait until a tight and realistic alibi for Hunter comes up—lucking into her son having appendicitis. But why would he dress up at all if Drummond knew him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they set it up so that if anyone saw the guy leaving, there would be an obvious suspect.”
“But the semen. The DNA is going to prove there was another man involved. Why would he leave that kind of evidence?”
“Pearson, the data bases aren’t going to have everyone’s DNA in there. If they found a guy without a criminal history, chances are there’s no record of him. Or, as you said earlier, maybe he didn’t know Drummond was supposed to die, or Hunter didn’t know he was going to get off all over Drummond’s face.”
“I still think it was some guy who has been after Drummond for a while. Planning, waiting, and then acting on the moment. The card key was used for six weeks before his death. It indicates the third person was checking out the scene and making plans. You saw how upset Hunter was when she saw those extra entries. She didn’t know about the second key.”
“Or, she’s a terrific actress.”
“You really want to bring Hunter in?”
“Yes. You know as well as I do most people break when confronted. Let’s hit her hard one last time. If she doesn’t confess this time, I’ll shut up about her.”
The morning was moving on. Walker and one of his techs would be arriving for their interviews any minute. “Okay. I’ll call her and have her come in.”
“No. I want to send officers to collect her. Get her a little rattled.”
Court would normally have no problem with this tactic. Why was it making him so uncomfortable now? The answer was obvious. He was attracted to Karen Hunter in a way he shouldn’t be. “Fine. Let’s do this.”
If Ivy wanted to hang herself, he wasn’t going to stop her. Her argument that Hunter was guilty, that they had enough of a story to break her, could be substantiated with the right twist in the report. He decided to go al
ong with it. If Ivy was right, then he’d have to accept it. If she was wrong, she’d accept it and they could move forward with the investigation. The truth was, most people wanted to confess when given the opportunity. A formal police interrogation was one way to help them do it. He pushed himself to keep an open mind. Maybe Ivy was right.
“Okay. Get the ball rolling on getting her in here. I’m going to check my messages,” he said as they stepped into the elevator. Ivy looked pleased with herself. He had the feeling she was going to fall on her ass in the interrogation. “You get to take the lead on this one.”
“You gonna hang out behind the glass or come in with me?”
“I’ll come in with you, but I’ll sit off to the side and be the good guy when you need it.”
She nodded, grinning. “Hey, did you ever hear from Fang?”
Court held up his phone. “Forgot I turned it off before testifying. I’ll know in a minute.” He waved her away so he would have some privacy, spinning his chair away from the opening to his cubicle.
Eighteen texts, three voice messages. The texts were from Britt, Cami and Madeline. Cami was asking if he wanted to meet for lunch. He’d seen her more in the last four days than he had in weeks. He texted back he was busy and would have to see her later in the week. Madeline also wanted to know if he was free for dinner with an offer to cook. He would enjoy an evening with Madeline, and Lucy too, he assumed, but declined. She sent him a selfie of herself with another mug. This one read If I won't be myself, who will?
Britt wanted to come over to his place to talk after the kids were settled. Whenever Britt asked to come over, it was about something serious. She would show up without the kids so they could have whatever discussion she was planning without them hearing it. She never wanted to be the bad guy when her kids could see it. She had been deliberately vague, so it could be anything from her displeasure at him showing up at the restaurant the previous night with his gun firmly tucked against his back to the fact he hadn’t responded to Madeline’s latest text. No telling what she was going to hit him with.
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