A Revelation of Death

by Alexa Padgett

  Raynor scratched the spot behind his ear. “Good riddance to the furball. He hasn’t brought happy tidings.”

  “You think she drowned saving the cat,” Cooper said. His mouth flattened and his jaw ticked. “I’m telling you, that’s not right.”

  “I agree,” Cici said.

  Not that she had anything other than frigid touches of wind to back up her claim. Still, she believed her sister was trying to give her the information she needed. Sam sliced her with another pointed look. She met it and tried to convey the message: I’ll tell you more in the car.

  Sam glanced down at Jay, who thankfully, had already become bored with the conversation and drifted back toward his train table.

  “There’ll be an autopsy. Standard procedure for these types of cases,” Sam said. “To make sure we don’t miss anything. If your wife’s death was anything other than a terrible accident, SFPD will keep investigating.”

  Cooper’s lips smashed even tighter together and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

  Cici touched his forearm, unsurprised by the tensed muscles there. “If you need anything…”

  Cooper turned toward her, his eyes glazed with pain and possibly panic. “I don’t…how do I go about a service? I have to bury Patti…”

  Cici drew the larger man into a hug. She rocked him gently. Sam and Raynor walked out of the garage bay, their heads bent close together as they talked.

  “We’ll help you with all of the details. You let us know what day works best for you and Patti’s family.”

  “They’re coming, into town. Her mom will be here this afternoon. And her brother asked for leave. He’s active duty.”

  Cici continued to hug him while he clutched at her back. Like countless lost souls before him, Cooper scrabbled for purchase in this scary world that somehow continued spinning, moving forward, in a new, partner-less reality.

  After another long minute, he huffed and pulled back. She kept one of his hands clasped in hers.

  “I’ll be in touch. For you and for Jay.”

  Cooper nodded; his eyes red but his face set in unyielding determination.

  “Okay.”

  “Call me if you need anything,” Cici said.

  Sadness bloomed in her chest, causing her heart to ache as she watched Cooper struggle to maintain his emotions, his shoulders bent forward in dejection.

  Sam opened the passenger door for her and she clumped forward in her boot. Cooper closed the garage door behind her. A slight crunch caused her to stop. Cici lifted her boot and crouched down, poking at the item on the ground.

  Sam squatted next to her. “Looks like a lens,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “Maybe the backup camera for his vehicle,” Sam said.

  “It’s awfully small,” Cici said. “Mine is larger than a pen cap and this one is about half that size.”

  “Yeah, it is. I wouldn’t have recognized it for a camera if it weren’t for the cracked casing.” He pointed to the small interior pieces of a tiny camera lens visible through the zigzag opening on the side. He produced a baggie from his pocket—Sam always managed to have his notebook and other investigative-y equipment on him. Must be taught in good detective school. He scooped up the small camera, studying it.

  “Might as well have it examined, too,” he said.

  “You think it’s related?” Cici asked.

  Sam turned back to study the Urlichs’ house. “I think people don’t accidentally drown in rain barrels.”

  10

  Cici

  No man chooses evil because it is evil; he just mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks. ― Mary Wollstonecraft

  * * *

  “You mind if I head down to Albuquerque with Jeff?” Sam asked as he glanced over at Raynor’s Ford sedan. The street remained quiet but expectant, and Cici wondered how many people were peeking out windows, trying to glean more information about the strange death of Patti Urlich.

  “He asked me to go, and I know he’s worried about botching this case.”

  Sam shot Cici an apologetic look. Not that Cici minded—Sam’s interest in the case was already piqued.

  “Of course not. I’ll work on my sermon.” Something that proved much easier to do if Sam remained busy.

  “I don’t want to leave you alone,” Sam said.

  Cici resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I live alone.”

  Sam narrowed his eyes so his gunmetal irises were slits of icy slate against his dark lashes. “That doesn’t mean I like it. Or I want that to continue.”

  “Wait. What?”

  Sam shoved his hand through his hair. “How about we talk later?”

  She wanted, very much, to talk about her living situation now. But she was cold and she was standing in front of her grieving congregant’s house. Not the time for that conversation.

  “You will expound on what you said later.” She raised her hand to stop his barrage of comments. “Later. I agree this isn’t the place. I’ll head over to the church while you’re with Raynor. I’ll work in my office, maybe meet with a few of my congregants.”

  Sam picked up her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Thanks. I appreciate your flexibility.”

  She snorted. “You like when I cave to your whims.”

  Except she hadn’t caved, and Sam knew her well enough to realize she wouldn’t meet his every notion. However, she really didn’t want to be alone right now. The talk with Jay frazzled her. The idea of Patti—any woman—being killed in her own home frightened Cici. Still, letting Sam think he’d won some kind of power struggle amused her—and made Sam happy. So, why not?

  “You don’t think this was an accident, do you?” Sam asked her, seeming to pick the thoughts out of her head.

  That was the million-dollar question. She glanced back at the now-closed up house.

  “No.”

  “I really wish you didn’t believe that so strongly,” Sam muttered.

  “Me, too.”

  He held up his keys. “You want to take my car? I’ll have Raynor drop me off at the church once we’re done.”

  Cici agreed. She reveled in the sweet kiss Sam placed on her lips before she climbed into his SUV. She headed back into town while Sam and his colleague drove south on I-25 to the UNM facility. She wasn’t sure what to hope for as far as an outcome for Cooper and his son. If Patti drowned trying to rescue the cat, Cooper would beat himself over that for years, but if Patti was murdered…

  Cici shuddered. Santa Fe, like most cities, attracted certain types of crime. That said, murder was a rare occurrence—and Cici really hoped the police department was able to keep it that way.

  Mrs. Sanchez looked up from her computer when Cici walked in. She gaped, then managed to splutter, “What are you doing here?”

  “Sam drove to Albuquerque for a case. So, I came here.”

  “But you’re supposed to be resting.”

  The older lady hurried around her desk, her broomstick skirt twitching with agitation as she gripped Cici’s elbow in her strong, age-spotted hands. “If you wanted to work, m’ijita, I would have brought the computer to you.”

  “I’m okay,” Cici said with a laugh.

  “Oh?” Mrs. Sanchez said. She raised her brows and her cheeks wobbled. “Then why are you so pale and why do your hands shake?”

  “Cooper Urlich’s wife died yesterday. I went to visit him and his son.”

  Cici let the older woman lead her into her office. Mrs. Sanchez tucked Cici onto the small couch she kept in the corner and managed to find a throw, which she draped over Cici’s lap.

  Mrs. Sanchez made a throaty sound of disapproval. “He comes to the city, thinking he knows so much. And now his wife is dead.”

  “That doesn’t mean he hurt her.”

  “I don’t like him,” Mrs. Sanchez said. “I don’t trust him either. He’s shifty.”

  “You don’t like half the people who move here.”

  “Because t
hey mess up our beautiful city, buying up land and homes that belonged to families for centuries. Centuries, Cecilia. Timespan like that is serious roots.”

  “Yes, but many of the families you’re talking about want the cash more than the homes. Or they wouldn’t sell.”

  Mrs. Sanchez huffed, but she couldn’t disagree with Cici’s logic, which probably irritated her more.

  “Computer?” Mrs. Sanchez asked.

  Cici nodded, more than happy to let the other woman change the subject. “Please. But I could have gotten it myself,” she said. Mrs. Sanchez clucked as she settled Cici’s laptop on her legs and one of the Bibles Cici used—the worn leather supple from passing down from her mother’s father and his mother before.

  “I’ll bring you some tea so you don’t have to get up. What else?”

  Cici smiled her thanks. “That’s all. Thank you again.”

  “You’re welcome. I wish you’d listen to your doctors, young lady,” Mrs. Sanchez said.

  After working for a while, she rose from the couch, needing to move her stiffening muscles.

  She glanced out the window as she sipped the last of the tea Mrs. Sanchez had brought her, wondering what the dear spy, Sterling—the man who saved her from the Bratva while they were in Chaco Canyon by walking her in circles—was up to. She remained exhausted from that ordeal.

  Cici settled back on the couch when her ankle began to throb, pushing away thoughts of her time on the plateau. She pulled up a new document to plan a memorial service for Patti. Her eyes grew heavy. She sat up and refocused on the document, but fatigue settled over her, lulling her into closing her eyes.

  Perhaps it was thinking of Patti, or of visiting the Urlichs’ home earlier in the day that created the vision. Maybe it was her sister trying to help with Patti’s death. Whatever the reason, Cici wasn’t prepared for her dream.

  11

  Sam

  There was still a question in her eyes—one that she did not like to put into words. ― Simone de Beauvoir

  * * *

  Cici texted Sam as Raynor pulled into the parking lot at the large, new OMI building.

  Call me.

  He turned to Raynor. “I need to make a quick call. Want to go in?”

  Raynor fidgeted, looking a bit unsure and Sam realized this was his first autopsy. “Ask for Benson. He’s helped SFPD for a few years. I’ll be in before you go back.”

  Raynor shot him a hard-to-read look but he pocketed his keys and exited the vehicle.

  Sam hit the call button before the door shut.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as she answered.

  He really wanted to ask her what trouble she’d managed to find, but she wouldn’t like the question. Still, this was Cici. Trouble seemed to latch on to her better than a fishhook to a cutthroat trout.

  “Maybe nothing. You get to Albuquerque okay?”

  “Yeah, we stopped at the precinct first, so we’ve just arrived.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Cici. You’re stalling.”

  “Fine. I had a dream,” she said. The sigh that followed felt heavy as though the weight of the world rested on her shoulders.

  Sam had been closer to Cici’s identical twin sister during their teen years and through their twenties than with Cici. While the Gurule sisters looked the same, their personalities were quite different. But, like most twins, the girls were able to do that “twin thing” where they communicated…if not telepathically than through some brain/emotional connection Sam never understood.

  And ever since Cici helped Sam solve her twin’s murder case, Cici had managed to patch into her sister’s telepathic bond to the point where Anna Carmen sent visions or nightmares—something to push Cici closer to the truth. But it was just infinitesimal pushes, almost as if Anna Carmen wasn’t allowed or couldn’t offer up more than tidbits of information at a time. Sam didn’t know if that was because it might hurt Cici or if divulging the details hurt Anna Carmen.

  “From Anna Carmen?” Sam asked. “Anything I need to know right now?”

  “Patti’s death wasn’t an accident,” Cici said.

  Sam stilled. Damn. He’d hoped for a different outcome but, from the moment she told him in the driveway this wasn’t going to be an easy, cut-and-dry case, Sam’s guts began to churn.

  Cici’s twin never sent love-o-grams. She transmitted disturbing images Cici was forced to grapple with—the images harder to handle the closer Cici was to the person or the location of the crime.

  “Specifics? Details?”

  “Male. Big. I mean both tall and overweight. His face was shadowed. He wore a hoodie.”

  Sam pulled out his notebook and scribbled some notes. “Anything else?”

  “He must have been waiting. Outside.”

  Sam’s neck muscles tightened. Watching someone, waiting for the moment, the idea of such behavior made him sick. But this wouldn’t be the first time he dealt with a male stalker.

  “And then what?”

  “He…I don’t think the rain barrel was planned. He didn’t expect Patti to fight.”

  “But she did.”

  “Like a wild cat,” Cici said, pain and pride lacing her words.

  The silence built between them again. Finally, Cici said, “I think he planned to rape her.”

  Sam stared down at his notebook, the words unintelligible. In Patti’s house, a place she should have felt—been—safe.

  “Let me see what Benson says. We can talk more when I get back.”

  “I’ll write down everything I remember.”

  “Good idea. Thanks, Cee. Stay safe. And let me know if anything else happens.”

  “Will do. You know, I never do anything impulsively,” Cici said, sounding annoyed.

  “It’s your middle name,” he shot back.

  “Nope, that’s Maria.”

  He chuckled. Right before she clicked off, she gasped. “Oh! And the white stuff. On my fingers. When I touched Jay’s stuffed kitty.”

  “What white stuff?”

  “From the stuffed kitty,” she said again, like it was obvious. “Jay’s. He said the cat was in the rain barrel puddle.”

  “Oh, you think his stuffed cat was in the barrel? That could be useful,” Sam said. “I’ll call Cooper now to let him know we’ll want that stuffed animal.”

  “All right. Talk to you later,” Cici said.

  She hung up. He called Raynor. “I need Cooper Urlich’s number.”

  “I’ll text it to you. Are you coming in?” Raynor’s nerves relayed through the phone speaker.

  “Absolutely. I need to ask Cooper a quick question.”

  “Hurry up.”

  “Be there in a minute.”

  Cooper picked up on the fourth ring and Sam identified himself, explaining why he was calling.

  “I was wondering if there were any large men in your general vicinity.”

  “Yeah, a few. Me, included.”

  “You’re tall and fit. I’m looking for a man who’s about your height but overweight.”

  “Dammit. That could be multiple dozens of people.”

  “True,” Sam said. He hesitated, trying to determine if mentioning the fact that a great proportion of crimes were committed by people the victim already knew. Before he could decide, Cooper said. “I don’t know many of the neighbors. We tend to keep to ourselves. But I’ve seen both Glenn Elvering and Ken Rosen. They’re large guys.”

  “Do you know if any of the people surrounding your home happen to own a cat?” Sam asked.

  “No idea. But the hissing monster that was in my garage earlier came from somewhere.”

  And the cat had a collar, which meant the tomcat had a home at some point in his past. “Well, we’ll talk to the neighbors as soon as possible.”

  Sam heard a plaintive wail.

  “Why are you asking me this? You think this man you mentioned had something to do with Patti’s death?” Cooper’s voice cracked. “Jesus.”

  “I think we
have a person of interest. I don’t have anything definitive yet. Do you have one of those video doorbells?”

  “No,” Cooper said. “What else do you know about the guy?”

  The child’s crying in the background grew more hysterical. Sam ached for the kid.

  “Nothing else. But we’ll keep looking.”

  “If he hurt Patti…”

  “We’ll do everything we can to find him,” Sam said. “Now…” Sam drew out the word. “About Jay’s stuffed cat.”

  “What about it?”

  “Cici said there was some white residue on it. Any way we could examine it? Just to make sure it wasn’t part of the crime scene?”

  “White powder?” Cooper sounded shell-shocked. “I have no idea…it got wet when Jay dropped it in the water that was spilled on the garage floor after the paramedics said Patti was… Yeah, yeah, of course, you can test it or whatever.” His voice trailed off, no doubt wondering what he’d tell his small son to reduce the sure-to-be tantrums over the lost toy.

  “Was the door to the backyard—the one to your garage—open?” Sam asked. “I mean, typically.”

  “No.”

  “But Raynor said it was when they arrived on the scene yesterday.”

  “Was it?” Cooper asked. “That’s strange. I never even noticed. We don’t keep doors open.”

  With the trauma of his wife’s death, that wasn’t surprising.

  “Well, then,” Sam said. “We need to stop back by.”

  Benson, one of the pathologists on staff, waved Sam and Raynor into the morgue where he was setting up the last of his equipment.

  “Hey, Sam,” he said with a chin thrust. His hands were already encased in latex.

  “Hey, Ben. This is Detective Jeff Raynor. He’s worked for the PD for twelve years and took over my position.”

  What Jeff didn’t know was that Sam recommended him to the chief before he’d walked out that fateful day to drive up to Chaco.

  “Good to meet you.” Benson nudged open the door to the exam room with his elbow and ushered both men inside. Raynor’s face paled and he clenched his jaw. Benson skirted by them and moved to the metal table covered in a white sheet. He pulled back the cover on Patti Urlich’s body.