by B J Bourg
“Write what on your mirror?”
I started and turned to see Kim leaning against a round column. She was smoking a cigarette near a sign that read, No smoking or vaping within 100’ of entrance. Smoke drifted from her mouth as she spoke and was carried away by the gentle breeze.
“Oh, nothing.” I indicated the cigarette with a nod of my head and a disapproving expression. “Those things will—”
“Kill me.” She grunted, flicking the ashes with a twitch of her thumb. “I know, but it’d be better than what happened to Annie and the kids.”
I couldn’t argue, so I didn’t. I strode closer to her and dropped to a large concrete bench that was nearby. “When was the last time you spoke with Annie?” I tried to keep my tone casual, as though we were having a friendly chat about the weather or the Saints, rather than me prying for information relative to a murder investigation.
“Yesterday. I talk to her every day. We would’ve talked today if she hadn’t…” She hesitated and let her voice trail off.
I gave her a moment before continuing the interview. When I did, I remained casual and was ever mindful of her emotional status. I couldn’t imagine what was going through her mind, but I knew it wasn’t good. After asking some basic questions to establish a rapport with her and to get her comfortable answering my questions, I asked if Annie had ever indicated that something was wrong in her marriage.
“Like what?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Normal things, I guess. Like, were they having problems? Did Carl drink excessively? Did he yell at Annie? If so, what would they argue about? Did he ever hit her? If so, did he use his hands or an object?”
“No, none of it.” She was completely aghast. “Something’s not right about this whole situation. Carl loved Annie and the kids. He would never harm them. In fact, he would give his own life so they could live.” She paused and took a breath. “Look, I watch Dateline every Friday night and I sometimes see people on there who are in complete denial. I mean, the evidence is right in their faces, but they don’t want to believe their person committed the murder. I’m not doing that right now. If Carl did this—and it’s a big ‘if’ for me—then someone drugged him and convinced him Annie and the kids were the devil and his demons. There’s no way he just woke up and decided to kill his family.”
“How were things between Carl and Annie? Did they fight?”
“Every couple fights.”
“So, Carl and Annie fought?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t call what they did fighting. I wouldn’t even call it arguing. They sometimes had disagreements, but who doesn’t? Every relationship has its own set of problems and people disagree from time to time.” She lowered her voice as though she thought someone might be eavesdropping on us. “But Carl and Annie weren’t like that. I saw them disagree about a movie once. Carl thought they’d gone to the theater to see the movie while Annie swore they’d ordered pizza and watched it in the living room. It was actually a disgusting thing to witness. I almost vomited, especially when Carl produced the ticket stub he’d saved from the day of the movie and Annie began apologizing for questioning him.”
“That’s an interesting choice of words,” I commented. “She apologized for questioning him? Did she say it like she wasn’t allowed to question him?”
“No, not at all. She just talked that way, you know? She was brought up in the church and that’s just how she talked sometimes. And he would do the same thing. If he was wrong, he would apologize and they’d forget they disagreed.” Kim huffed. “When my husband and I argue, I’m always right, but he never admits it. And he’ll stay mad for days, which just keeps me pissed off.”
I chuckled, tapped the toe of my boot on the concrete. “Okay, so they didn’t fight. What else can you tell me about their relationship?”
“That’s about it. They were the perfect couple.”
“There’s no such thing as a perfect couple.” If there was, I thought, it would be Susan and me. I quickly corrected myself. Maybe Susan was perfect, but I was far from it, and we both would have to be perfect for us to be a perfect couple. “What about their financial situation? Were they hurting for money? Any gambling problems, drug abuse, or anything like that?”
Kim’s expression changed ever so slightly, but she recovered quickly. “No gambling problems or drugs. They didn’t drink either.”
“What is it?” I asked, noting that she’d left out their financial situation. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“What do you mean?” She tried to appear innocent. “I’m telling you everything.”
“Tell me about their financial situation. Were they hurting for money?”
“I don’t…it would be wrong of me to speculate.”
I made an exaggerated effort of glancing around. “There’s no one here but you and me, and I’m not recording this conversation. Please, feel free to speculate all you want.”
“Annie told me something in confidence, and she made me swear not to say anything. It was a secret and she trusted me. I can’t betray that trust.”
I leaned closer, my curiosity thoroughly aroused. “This could be important. It could be a motive for what happened—especially if she was keeping secrets from Carl.”
“But she wasn’t keeping secrets from Carl. He knew all about it.”
I cocked my head to the side, scowled. “Then who did she want to keep the secret from?”
Kim crushed out her cigarette and then sat wearily on the concrete bench beside me. “I don’t know. People in town, maybe?”
“Anyone in particular?”
“She didn’t say. She just wanted me to keep my mouth shut, so I did.”
I shifted in my seat. “Look, anything—no matter how slight—could help explain why this happened. Nothing is off the table. I need to know everything you know—secret or not—and, as God is my witness, I’ll only use the information if it helps us understand why Annie, her kids, and her mom were murdered.”
Kim was thoughtful and it appeared I might have gotten through to her, but she didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally, though, she started talking.
“Jude and I went to their house on New Year’s Eve. Neither of us party anymore, so we decided to have a get together of our own where we could fellowship and the kids could play. Annie did some cooking and I brought a dish.”
“Jude, is he your husband?” I asked when she paused to take a breath.
“Yes. So, let me back up. Around Christmas time, I saw Annie and she was wearing a pair of Gucci jeans.” Kim paused again, as though to let her comment sink in, but I only stared blankly at her. She huffed. “Do you know what Gucci jeans are?”
I shrugged. “If I were to guess, I’d say they were jeans for women?”
“Not just any jeans. They’re like the most expensive jeans. Carl does taxes and Annie’s a real estate agent. Sure, they do alright for themselves, but not ‘Gucci alright’. I told her I loved the jeans and she thanked me, then just talked like everything was normal. When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I asked her how on earth she could afford those jeans, and she told me they had more disposable income since they paid off their house.”
I nodded absently, not seeing how a pair of expensive jeans could lead to Carl murdering his wife, but I remained patient, and hopeful.
“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Kim asked in exasperation. “She said they paid off their house—and they bought it a little more than a year ago, so they still owed a lot of money on it.”
This caused me to raise my eyebrows. “Oh, that’s interesting. Did she say where they got the money?”
She shook her head from side to side, and explained that Annie seemed very elusive and began acting as though she’d already said too much. And then, on New Year’s Eve, Carl told Jude he wanted to show him something and the two men headed off to the master bedroom.
“They were gone for about ten minutes and then they came back to the living room where w
e were watching Longmire on Netflix—we both loved that show—and Carl demanded to know who had gone into the closet.” Kim frowned. “You know how I told you they never argued? Well, I kind of lied a little, because they argued that night. They went into the bedroom and Jude and I could hear them accusing each other of taking something. We couldn’t hear exactly what they were talking about, but it was kind of heated.”
Kim said when the couple came back from the room, they apologized to their guests and then carried on the rest of the night as though nothing had happened.
“When Annie and I were alone at one point during the night, I asked Annie what was wrong. That was when she swore me to secrecy. She…” Kim hesitated and I could feel myself leaning in. “She said they found something. She didn’t tell me what it was, but she said they found something and it was very valuable and it’s how they were able to pay off their house. She said they kept something in their safe, but the safe was gone, along with this valuable item, and Carl was accusing her of taking it.”
I straightened and pondered what I’d just heard. Greed. It was as time-worn a motive as any that existed. It went as far back as the Biblical days. I was mildly curious what this valuable item could be. “And this was New Year’s Eve?” I asked.
Kim nodded.
“Had you spoken with Annie since then?”
“Oh, yeah, a bunch of times, but she never brought it up again. That night, she made me promise not to say a word about it, so I never did.”
“Have you seen her and Carl interacting since that night?”
“Yeah, and everything seemed normal.”
She said she figured they found the safe and everything went back to normal. When I asked if Jude mentioned anything about it, she said the only thing he told her was, “Yeah, I didn’t know what the hell was going on. Carl told me he wanted to show me something cool, and then he started cursing when he pulled back the clothes in his closet.” She said Jude claimed Carl never told him what he was about to show him, and he never thought to ask.
“If it doesn’t involve football or hunting, Jude doesn’t care about it,” Kim said, rolling her eyes as she spoke. “And Carl was no hunter. I had to often beg Jude to go visit them. He said Carl wasn’t his kind of guy, whatever that means.”
When I asked if she had let Jude in on what Annie had told her, she shook her head violently.
“No, indeed. She made me swear not to say anything. The only reason I’m telling you is because it might help you figure out what happened to her.” Her eyes clouded over again. “None of it makes any sense. I…I can’t believe Carl would do this. I have to think there’s some other reason no one else knows about. Maybe he was sick and no one knew about it and it altered his mental faculties. I just don’t know.”
She glanced nervously at her watch and I realized I’d taken up too much of her time. I thanked her and stood as she did. She dabbed at her eyes again, took a deep breath, and then, without saying another word, turned and hurried back toward the entrance to the hospital.
CHAPTER 16
Chuck’s words continued haunting me as I left the hospital and headed toward the coroner’s office. It prompted me to call Susan and check on Grace. While Susan was talking, I could hear our daughter giggling in the background.
“What’s she doing?” I asked, smiling broadly at the sweet sound of her voice.
“She dumped her juice on her highchair tray and she’s slapping her hands in it.” Susan was laughing with her. “She’s making a big old mess.”
My heart ached as I longed to be there to witness the fun. I glanced at the clock on my dash. It was almost two in the afternoon and I hadn’t yet arrived at the coroner’s office. It usually took about three hours for Dr. Wong to complete a single autopsy, and she had five bodies—four victims and one asshole. I groaned inwardly when I did the math. If she did all of them today, I wouldn’t get home until after five in the morning, long after Gracie went to bed. Hell, I might be getting home just as she would be waking up in the morning.
“Hey, Clint, what’s on your mind?” Susan sounded concerned. I told her what Chuck had told me and I could almost hear her frown. “That’s sad. When will you be home?”
“It depends on how long it takes for her to complete the autopsies. I hope she doesn’t perform them all today.” I continued talking about Chuck and told her about my plans to make sure I never neglected my family in favor of my job.
“That sounds like a good plan. Why don’t you start now by getting someone else to attend the autopsies?”
“I can’t, Sue. It’s my case. I can’t shirk my responsibilities.”
“That’s always your answer.” Her tone was accusatory and she paused, as though to let her words sink in. “Along with that message you plan to write on your mirror, why don’t you also tell yourself to start delegating more of your duties? Amy loves working cases, and so does Melvin. They’d be happy to fill in for you.”
She was right, I knew, but I felt like this case was too sensitive to pawn off on someone else. I told her I would attend the autopsies and then get home as soon as I could. She didn’t object.
After ending the call, I completed the drive to the coroner’s office and gathered up my gear before heading inside. I frowned when I saw Dr. Wong standing in the middle of the autopsy room staring down at the body of young Rebecca. The child’s clothes were bloodier than they had been at the scene, thanks to her banging around in the body bag for hours, the last of her body’s juices leaking from the nasty wounds that had been inflicted by the double-barreled shotgun.
Dr. Wong’s assistant was at the head of the table and, although he was suited up and unidentifiable, he looked young. I was sure I’d never seen him before, so I figured he was new. And judging by the pale complexion behind the face shield, I figured this was probably his first time seeing a dead child.
Dr. Wong sighed heavily and walked to the row of white cabinets on the far wall. After pushing her dark hair back into a ponytail, she pulled on a pair of purple nitrile gloves and then snatched a face shield from the counter. She gave me a nod as she approached the white table. “I’ll do the kids and the mom today,” she said, her voice somber. “I’ll do the mother-in-law and the asshole in the morning after I get back from church.”
I nodded and watched as they prepared the body of the young girl. My gut twisted in knots. I felt dizzy. Not long ago, I had taken the life of a young girl not much older than Rebecca Duval. I had come to terms with my actions and knew that law enforcement officers sometimes had to do the unspeakable in the line of duty, but I still wished to God it had turned out different.
I rubbed my tired face and looked away, wishing for this day to end. I wanted tomorrow to end, as well. Maybe Monday would bring a better week, an end to this horror. Maybe Jennifer would awaken and shed some light on this senseless tragedy—
“Detective?”
Dr. Wong’s voice snapped me from my thoughts. I glanced over and saw her standing over the young child’s body. There was an inquisitive expression on her face. Young Rebecca had been disrobed and cleaned, and her wounds were plainly visible now. “Yes, Doc?”
“I imagine you might want to get some photographs before I proceed?”
I nodded and retrieved my camera from where I’d grounded my gear. After shooting a range of photographs, I stepped back and watched as Dr. Wong went to work. As was her custom, she did a thorough job examining the victim, and it was two hours before she was done.
We had discovered no secrets. The cause of death was obviously gunshot wounds, and the manner of death was homicide. The gunshots had been fired in such rapid succession that it was impossible to determine which bullet was fired first, but either one of them would’ve been lethal. One of the blasts had destroyed her heart, while the other had rendered her liver a pulverized mess of tissue.
“The only good news is that she didn’t suffer long.” Dr. Wong waved for her assistant to take Rebecca’s body from the room. “Bring me the
little boy next.”
Lex Duval was small for a five-year-old, and he looked even tinier on the large morgue table. I felt my blood boil as I watched the autopsy, just as it had when I’d watched Dr. Wong examine Rebecca. If Carl Duval hadn’t already been dead, I would’ve been tempted to get a piece of him, my job be damned. A father was supposed to protect his children. To do what he did, well, that was the ultimate in betrayal. It was unforgivable.
Like his sister, Lex could’ve died from either of his gunshot wounds. The slugs had ripped through his tiny body with little resistance, the way a burning hot knife slices through butter. As I stared into his open eyes, I tried to see what he saw during the final minutes of his short life. If only they could bear witness to the events that had unfolded last night and give me the answers I sought.
Without skipping a beat or showing any signs of taking a break, Dr. Wong finished up with Lex and dove right into Annie’s autopsy. The similarities of the three autopsies were so striking that it seemed as though I was stuck in the 1990s movie Groundhog Day. The bullet holes were similarly placed and identical in size and appearance, and the victims’ wrists all bore the same marks of the ligatures that had bound them. It was impossible to determine who had been killed first, and I didn’t know what would’ve been worse—being the first to go and having it over with, or sitting there watching your loved ones being brutally murdered and knowing your time was coming.
I sighed as I picked up my equipment at the conclusion of Annie’s autopsy. While everything pointed to Carl being the suspect—I’d even processed the parts of his hands not covered in blood for gunshot residue earlier, and the presumptive test kit rendered a positive result—I knew I had to wait until the ballistics evidence and DNA tests came back from the lab to finalize my report. The double-barreled shotgun in Carl’s possession was the only firearm we’d found in the house, but I hadn’t located any boxes of ammunition, and that gave me pause, if only for a brief moment.
By the time Dr. Wong had wrapped up the three autopsies and I had made it back to my Tahoe, it was almost ten at night. I drove home as fast as I could, but Grace was fast asleep by the time I arrived. Achilles had met me in the driveway and I followed him into the house, where I saw Coco sleeping soundly on the rug in the living room.