Hard Job: Reightman & Bailey Book Two

by Jeffery Craig

  “I think he looks a bit pale.” She studied the bullet hole which had been drilled into the center of the man’s forehead. “Although, the manner of his death is disturbingly familiar.”

  “When I got the news, I was expecting suicide, Reightman. Having the Feds dig through his business must have been quite a shock to the old bastard.” He stepped a few inches closer to the body and leaned in to take a better look. “I’d bet my hard earned money this wasn’t suicide, but we’ll have to wait on the coroner’s ruling to be sure.”

  “I knew you were a man of unsurpassed wisdom.” Dr. Evans told him, as she and Dr. Bridges made their way into the room. “Although, at first glance, I wouldn’t bet against you this time.” She began to pull on a pair of gloves and Dr. Bridges did the same. “It’s a pity, too. I do like a good mystery once in a while and I rarely turn down a bet.”

  “I, for one, have had about all the mystery I can handle,” Reightman commented, as she moved out of the way to allow the gurney to pass unhindered into the room.

  “Is it okay for us to start?”

  “Yes, Doctor Bridges, I’m done here,” Tom confirmed. “I need to head downstairs to help Laurie and the rest of the team try to locate the bullet that blew out the back of this guy’s head. I’m going to need that bullet to run ballistics, although based on the execution style, I’d say we’re probably dealing with the same person that killed both Helliman and Christina Dameron. I just hope I don’t have to get up on the big ladder to check the building walls, I hate heights and that ladder’s kind of wobbly.”

  “Maybe you’ll get lucky. The bullet must have been slowed as it went through his skull, the chair and the window. That had to slow the velocity and shorten the distance it could’ve traveled by quite a bit.”

  “It should have, but you never know. The places where I’ve ultimately located a spent slug would cause you to shudder in your sleep. I’ll let you know what we do, or don’t find, Detective.”

  “Hello, Anderson,” Detective Jones said in greeting as he met the crime tech at the door. “Laurie said to tell you to get your lazy ass downstairs. She thought you should share in the fun of crawling around in the holly bushes in the courtyard.”

  “Thanks, Detective Jones. I was just on my way down. She’s obviously past the deferential, respectful phase of our association. Having reached the one year mark of her employment, and receiving an exemplary performance review, has totally ruined our relationship.” He grinned to show he didn’t mean anything by his comment and went to join his team.

  “Did any of the staff have anything helpful to share, Jones?

  “No, nothing out of the ordinary. After the broken glass was spotted, the staff member informed maintenance about the problem, thinking maybe a bird had crashed into the window. The maintenance man discovered the body and told Sawyer’s secretary, who called it in. The poor woman’s really upset, and is adamant she didn’t know of anyone who’d commit such a ‘terrible sin against heaven’. Those are her words, by the way – not mine. Everyone else arrived after the body was discovered.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. If the killer’s as smart as I think he is, he’d have made sure he was alone before he killed Sawyer.” Reightman walked around the room once more, as the coroners supervised the movement of the body to the gurney. “I assume someone has notified Mrs. Sawyer?”

  “Yes, the Reverend’s secretary did, immediately after she called the police.”

  “And Mrs. Sawyer didn’t feel the need to come down here? I find that interesting. She must’ve been concerned when her husband didn’t return home last night.”

  “The secretary said Sawyer often stayed here overnight when he planned to work late. He had a small bedroom here in the building.”

  “I wonder if his overnight accommodations are as humble and low key as this office.” Reightman’s cynicism was plainly evident as she took in the immense, incredibly well-appointed room which had served as the man’s office. “Let Mrs. Sawyer know we’ll need to talk with her – tomorrow at the latest. I know she’s grieving, but I want to verify her whereabouts at the time of the murder, and determine if she might have any helpful information.”

  “I’ll set it up.” Jones watched her progress around the room and joined her when she stopped in front of the wet bar. “It appears that the Reverend was a man of refined taste when it came to stocking his liquor cabinet. I bet this stuff cost more than I make in a year.”

  “Probably so, Jones.” Reightman took one more glance around the room. “Let’s go see if someone can help us locate Sawyer’s nighttime accommodations. We might stumble on to something, if we’re lucky. Grab a couple of pairs of gloves from the box by the door on the way.”

  Jones did as instructed, and followed her out of the door.

  Jones and Reightman quickly commandeered a member of the church staff to lead them to Sawyer’s bedroom. Once the door was unlocked and they entered the room. The small bedroom with attached bath actually held more resemblance to a very luxurious hotel suite than to the simpler accommodation they’d been led to expect.

  Jones let out a surprised whistle. “These are pretty fancy digs!”

  “Reverend Sawyer worked very hard, and the congregation felt he deserved the very best we could provide,” the staff member sternly replied, making her disapproval of his comment clear.

  “I’m sure he deserved everything provided,” Reightman assured the woman. “We appreciate your help, but I think we’ll be able to find the way back by ourselves. I don’t want to keep you and I’m certain you have a lot of calls to make to notify all the church members of the Reverend’s passing.”

  The woman gave Jones a final disapproving glance before she turned to join her fellow staff members in their collective grieving – and speculative gossip.

  ”You certainly managed to put her nose out of joint,” Reightman told her partner, “and it only took a single sentence.”

  “Yeah,” Jones replied gleefully, after trying and failing to contain his grin. “I have some pretty impressive communication skills.”

  The detectives pulled on the gloves and started their inspection. “Doing good works for the multitudes must pay a lot better than my job,” Jones commented as he removed the expensively upholstered cushions from the antique reproduction sofa. “I should’ve made wiser career choices.”

  “Me too, Jones,” Reightman agreed as she began searching through the drawers of the French Regency nightstands. “Compared to where I live, this place looks like a European palace. In fact, I bet it makes some of the smaller ones look pretty shabby in comparison.”

  He replaced the cushions on the sofa and started on the two coordinating armchairs. After he finished with them, he moved on to the desk which was the last remaining item in the room still to be searched. “You’d think the gigantic desk in Sawyer’s main office would be enough for any mortal man,” he said as he opened the center drawer and began removing contents.

  “For a mere mortal, it would be.” When he didn’t respond, she looked up from her own search. “Find something?” she asked, moving across the room to join him.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” he said as he turned on the black phone he held in his hand.

  Reightman looked over his shoulder as he scanned through the call history. After finding nothing of immediate interest, he opened the message app and scanned through the texts.

  “I think ‘maybe’ is the right answer.”

  “I think you’re correct, Reightman.”

  They both read the first words on the message screen.

  I HAVE A PROBLEM

  After scrolling through the entire series of exchanges, Jones turned off the phone. “Now we know who ordered Lieberman’s execution and the attempt on Bailey.”

  “It sure looks that way. Now all we have to determine is who Sawyer hired to do the dirty work.”

  “Piece of cake, Reightman.”

  “I hope so, but I have a sneaking suspicion that identifying ou
r hitman won’t be as easy as just pressing the call button.”

  Jones decided to ignore her pessimism and focus on the positive. “At least your theory about how Lieberman died is proving to be true.”

  “Time will tell, but we can rule out suicide after reading these messages. Dr. Evans is just going to love that.” She took one last look around the room. “Let’s get this down to Anderson and see if he can track down the recipient of Reverend’s texts.”

  “If anyone can, Tom Anderson will.”

  Reightman took the phone from him and placed it in her jacket pocket. “Why don’t you call Mrs. Sawyer and see if you can set up a time to meet. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  “You want me to send someone up to watch the door?”

  “Yes, that’s a good idea, Jones. Before we are done, we’ll have half the force occupying space here.”

  “It’ll be good for them. They might find they have a calling.”

  Reightman took the elevator to the first floor while Jones went to make his call. She found Laurie and a couple of other techs in the large courtyard watching Tom climb up a mid-sized ladder positioned to give him access to a garden statue. The large bronze was a depiction of Jesus Welcoming the Children.

  “Looks like he found something.” Anderson leaned forward, supporting himself by placing his gloved hand on Jesus’s metal shoulder.

  “Could be, and I hope so. I’ve had all the pricks I can handle today,” Laurie reconsidered what she’d said. “I mean, I’ve had all the prickly rose and holly bushes I can handle today.”

  Reightman suppressed a smile. Tom extracted something from the head of the statue, and placed the item in a small evidence bag. He gingerly climbed down the ladder and walked over to where she was waiting.

  “I brought you a present,” he told her with a big smile as he wagged the bag in one hand. “I’ve been shopping for a while, since I didn’t know what to get you. I figured any girl would love one slightly used slug from a preacher’s head.”

  “You always bring me the nicest things, Tom. Where ever did you find it?”

  “Ironically, in a place very reminiscent to where it first started the journey – right in the statue’s head.”

  “Don’t you find it slightly disturbing that the bullet was stopped in its path by a bronze Jesus head?”

  “Nope,” he grinned. “Come over here and I’ll show you why it’s ironic instead of disturbing.” He led the way to the figural grouping near the center of the courtyard. “Look at the face of our wounded figure.”

  She did, and discovered that instead of depicting a compassionate and loving Christ, the statue’s face was an exact match to the now deceased Reverend Ephraim Sawyer, and was forever frozen in a cruel, thin-lipped smile.

  “This reinforces my belief in the Almighty,” Tom told her.

  “How so?”

  “Well, the way I figure, the only way the bullet could have been guided here was by the hand of the Divine.”

  “That’s almost poetic, Anderson.” Reightman pulled the phone from her packet. “I found you a present too, but wasn’t able to wrap it. I didn’t have one of those nice gift bags you crime techs use.”

  “That’s okay, I don’t mind wrapping my own presents.” As he took the phone into his hand he called out to his assistant, “Laurie, bring me another evidence bag.”

  “The best part of the present is inside, Tom. Go ahead and turn that baby on. Someone may have left you a love note. In fact, I know they did.”

  Tom – always a man to recognize a clue – immediately opened the message app. “This is one of the best presents anyone has ever given me, Reightman! I’ve always liked presents that take a little work to find the secret surprise.” He turned off the phone and placed it in the bag Laurie handed him and sealed the top. “I’ll see what I can find, but I have to admit I don’t know if I’ll be able to track anything down. The texts may have gone to a burner phone or a phone registered to an unidentifiable number. I’ll get on it as soon as I get back to the office.”

  “Thanks, Tom. Will you be able to get to the bullet today as well?”

  “Nope. I’m not going to do the ballistic testing.” He handed the bag to Laurie. “My trusty side-kick is going to take care of that. She needs the practice.”

  Laurie rolled her eyes. “I don’t need the practice, Boss Man. I’m already better at ballistics testing than you’ll ever be. I have natural talent.”

  “In that case, I’ll let you do all ballistic testing from now on.”

  “It’ll sure beat dealing with the pricks I keep running into.” Laurie replied as she walked away with her afternoon assignment.

  “I like her, Tom – I mean, I really, really like her.”

  “She’s a good kid,” Tom said as he watched his assistant make her way back to the collection station they’d set up near the entrance to the courtyard. “In another couple of years she’s going to be one of the best.” He looked back toward Reightman. “Did you get me anymore presents?”

  “No more presents,” she answered regretfully. “But I did reserve a fancy suite for you upstairs – the same swanky place where I found the phone. Jones and I already went over everything, but I think you should give it your magic touch.”

  “That’s what my wife says.”

  Reightman grinned at his quick comeback. “I bet you give her nice presents, too.”

  “You know it. I always have something ready for her to put into her firm, rosy palm.”

  “Alright, alright,” she said, putting her hands up to surrender. “I can’t take any more of this sexy talk – it makes me blush. Call me when you have some results.”

  “Will do, Detective. Will do.”

  Reightman met Jones on her way back into the building. “Did you reach Mrs. Sawyer?”

  “Yes, I did. She sounded pretty torn up, but agreed to meet us tomorrow morning at eleven. She lives out by the lake, so if you want, I can pick you up and we can take one car.”

  “I’ll take you up on the offer.” She checked the time on her phone, discovering that it was later than she thought. “Let’s head on back, Jones. I’ll show you how to fill out all of the forms us poor folks in the Homicide Unit have to complete. You can watch while I get them started, and then you can finish them up.”

  “Why do I have to finish them up?”

  “Because, the way I see it, you’re my trusty side-kick and could use the practice.”

  Jones thought it over. “I can’t even find anything to argue about in that statement. It wouldn’t have done any good to argue if I had thought of something, would it?”

  “Nope, not a bit,” Reightman answered happily.

  They headed to the parking lot, both perfectly content with the situation.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The crime tape was removed from the rooms of the Time Out Spa on Friday, and Toby and Mitchell made their way across the street a little before nine o’clock Saturday morning. Toby was in a surprisingly cheerful mood, and felt fairly optimistic about getting things back to normal – at the spa at least. His optimism lasted until he walked in and saw a very unhappy SarahJune sitting behind the reception desk.

  “What’s wrong? You look like something awful happened.”

  “It has, Toby. Something really awful has happened.”

  “What is it, SarahJune?”

  “They’ve cancelled, Toby,” she answered, beginning to panic.

  “Who’s cancelled?” Toby felt his cheerful mood beginning to dissipate.

  “Everyone.”

  “Everyone has cancelled their appointments?”

  “Yes, all but two.”

  “SarahJune, you’re right. That that isn’t good news, but we only had five appointments for today to start with. I’m not happy about the cancellations, but I don’t think we should panic.”

  “You don’t understand what I’m telling you! They’ve all canceled – all but two. Our clients have cancelled every appointment we had on the books f
or….for forever.”

  Toby found it hard to believe, but after looking through the appointment book he realized she was right. “What did they say?”

  “A lot of them called last night and left messages, but I did talk to several more this morning. In a nutshell, they apologized – very politely, in most cases – but said that they couldn’t continue to patronize a business where so many horrible and scandalous things have happened.”

  Toby focused on trying to remain calm and to keep the panic he was feeling from coloring his voice. “Did you try to convince them that all of that was over, SarahJune?”

  “Yes, of course I did. Most of them were nice, even regretful, but they were all very firm that they would not be returning here – ever.”

  He continued to process her news, and tried to figure out how he could deal with the situation. “Is any of the staff here yet?”

  “Brigette is the only one here right now. She had the first appointment and came in as usual to make sure everything was ‘shipshape and orderly’. Andre’s supposed to be in later. I think he’s scheduled for an appointment at eleven, and usually comes in about twenty or thirty minutes before his appointments.”

  “Do they have anything at all today – after the cancellations?”

  “No. I haven’t said anything to them yet. I wasn’t sure what you’d want to tell them.”

  “You did exactly the right thing, SarahJune,” he assured her. “I’ll go talk with Brigette, and then I’ll call Andre.”

  “What are we going to do, Toby?”

  “I don’t know yet. But after I’ve talked to Brigette and Andre, I’ll call some of my regulars and see if I can smooth things over and change their minds. Can you start making me a list of names and telephone numbers while I talk to Brigette?”

  “Sure, Toby.”

  After he broke the news to Brigette and Andre, Toby took the list that SarahJune had prepared and went back to his office, trailed by a silent Mitchell. A few hours later, he knew things were bad. He hadn’t been able to convince a single customer to give the spa another chance.