Dead Peasants (Zoo Crew series Book 2)

Home > Suspense > Dead Peasants (Zoo Crew series Book 2) > Page 17
Dead Peasants (Zoo Crew series Book 2) Page 17

by Dustin Stevens


  "Great," Drake muttered.

  "I'll opt to head on home," Ava said. "As much as I'm dying to find out what they have to say, I'm not about to interrupt a man's game."

  A half-dozen different retorts came to Drake's mind. He dismissed them all. Pushed the truck toward Ava's. Dropped her off and headed back towards downtown.

  A litany of questions raced through his mind as he drove. Some of them centered on how to best handle the situation he was about to walk into. Most pertained to the victims he was going to check on.

  Everything up to this point had been little more than conjecture. Logical, certainly. Chronological, absolutely.

  But still, pure conjecture.

  He was about to put himself out there in a big way. Was about to either look brilliant or like a complete idiot.

  Drake pulled to a stop behind the Medical Examiner's office. Exhaled twice. Debated whether or not to take his bag in with him.

  Opted to walk in empty handed. Lent itself more to the country boy just asking questions image he was hoping to establish.

  The Medical Examiner's Office was located on the northernmost edge of downtown Missoula. Two blocks north of the courthouse. One block down from the District Attorney's office.

  It was a low-slung structure largely constructed from red brick. An extra-wide sidewalk completely encased the building, making any sign of vegetation impossible.

  Drake pushed his way through the front door to find a girl roughly the same age as himself sitting behind the desk. She had a large plume of dark hair and matching eyes.

  In a word, everything about her looked coiffed. From her lipstick to her fingernails.

  She smiled as he approached.

  "Hey there! Kade said you'd be coming by."

  "Hello Miss Tara," Drake said. Laid his accent on a touch thicker.

  He had never actually met her in person before. Knew the standard southern greeting would go over well in the office.

  "Thank you so much for letting me come by."

  "Not at all," Tara said. "I was so glad Kade called, I ought to be thanking you."

  Drake smiled.

  Yeah, I bet Kade's thinking the same thing right about now.

  "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Drake said. "I only have a few questions. Won't bother anybody long."

  Tara smiled coyly. "Oh, I don't think you'll be a bother to anyone here. Come on back."

  She led Drake around the front counter and into a small hallway. Standard building setup. Tile floors. Thin wooden doors with nameplates announcing the offices of various individuals.

  Tara pushed through a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. Went less than a foot inside and stepped out of the way. Motioned Drake on through.

  "Dr. McKenzie will be out in just one second," Tara said. Same smile firmly affixed. "She's in the cooler right now putting away her most recent patient."

  "Thank you," Drake said. Watched as Tara disappeared back down the hallway.

  It was the first time Drake had ever been in a medical examination room. Seemed to fit everything he'd ever pictured it would be.

  A row of stainless steel exam tables lined the far wall. Cabinets lined the other. Bulletin boards with various papers pinned to them covered the space between.

  Overhead, an intricate grid of sprinklers and exhaust fans stretched across the room. The ground sloped gently down to a drainage pipe in the middle of the floor.

  The smell of formaldehyde and antiseptic hung in the air.

  In the middle of the wall directly in front of him was a steel cooler door. A thermometer in the middle of it announced the temperature inside at forty degrees.

  Cold, but not freezing.

  Drake stood rooted in place for nearly two full minutes before the door swung open. Through it walked a diminutive woman with bright orange hair and freckles.

  She was dressed in a black skirt and leggings. Blue t-shirt tucked tight into it. A white lab coat encased all of it, nearly dragging the ground.

  A pair of thick-framed glasses rested on the end of her pointed nose.

  "Oh!" Pressed a hand to her chest. "You scared me."

  "I'm so sorry," Drake said. Extended a hand towards her. "I'm Drake Bell. I assumed Tara told you I was coming."

  The girl gave an embarrassed smile. Shook her head. Pulled her glasses down off her face. "Of course she did. I just wasn't expecting you to be here so soon."

  She walked forward. Thrust a hand towards him. "Dr. Jane McKenzie. Please, call me Jane."

  Drake gripped her hand. It felt tiny and cold within his. "Pleasure."

  "Shall we talk in my office?" Jane said. Motioned him back out into the hall.

  Drake followed her through the first door on the left. A shoebox sized affair with barely enough room for everything it contained.

  An old metal desk filled one side of the room. A bookshelf covered the back. One spare chair and a mountain of boxes took up the remainder.

  Case files and loose papers burst from every available inch.

  "Please pardon the mess," Jane said. "Apparently my position had been open for quite some time before I got here. This kind of became the storage room for the office."

  "How long have you been here?" Drake asked. Kept the accent turned up high. Smiled. Made a point of eye contact.

  "Two months," Jane said. "Passed my boards and came on out."

  Drake kept the back and forth going for nearly ten more minutes. Ascertained she'd gone to undergrad at Lewis and Clark in Portland. Med school at the University of Oregon.

  Accepted the position in Montana to try something new. Still wasn't sure how well she liked it.

  After exhausting nearly every easy small talk question he could think of, Drake pushed forward.

  "So I don't know if Tara mentioned why I asked to see you today, but I was hoping to get your opinion on a couple of recently deceased."

  Jane rested the glasses back up on her nose. The nervous smile fell away. She was all business.

  "I was curious about Bronson Irwin and Edgar Carpenter."

  "You realize that this is very sensitive information, right?" Jane said. "And I could get in a lot of trouble if anybody ever finds out this conversation took place?"

  Drake rose from his chair. Looked out into the hallway. Pulled the door so it was cracked open just a few inches.

  Lowered his voice.

  "I know. Let me just say too, I am very appreciative of you taking the time. If anybody asks, I'll tell them our friends Kade and Tara said we should meet. Deal?"

  Jane gave an indeterminate shrug.

  "The reason I am asking is I am a lawyer and I have a client whose husband recently passed away. Without getting into details, his case was fairly straight forward.

  "However, it has brought forth some questions about other cases that may be related."

  "Irwin and Carpenter."

  "That's right," Drake said. "I respect you have limitations to what you can disclose, same as I do. What I really need to know is, was there anything in their autopsies that might point to foul play?"

  Jane frowned slightly. Kept her gaze on Drake. Studied him for several long seconds.

  Finally, she answered whatever internal questions she was debating.

  "First off, I can't tell you anything about Edgar Carpenter. He hasn't come through here."

  Drake made a face. "Really? It was listed in the paper as a solo bicycle accident a few days ago."

  Jane shook her head. "We only get them if cause of death is undetermined. If it was ruled a bicycle accident, the family probably had him taken straight to the funeral home."

  "Hmm," Drake said. Pondered the information. Definitely not what he was wanting to hear.

  "Just out of curiosity, are there ways to use a bicycle accident as a cover-up?"

  The question took Jane back a moment. Her eyes grew a touch wider. She eyed Drake suspiciously.

  "I suppose, though I've never really thought about it. Without knowing
the particulars of the case, the only ways of clearly identifying cause of death in a solo bicycle accident are head trauma or broken neck.

  "He'd have to have been traveling at a tremendous rate of speed for head trauma to be the COD. That's of course ruling out a blow to the skull followed by death from exposure."

  "How about a broken neck?" Drake asked.

  "A broken neck..." Jane said. Let her voice trail off. "Theoretically, it wouldn't be that hard. Fracture the brain stem. Leave him sprawled out on the pavement. Scratch up his forehead or helmet a bit."

  She paused. Seemed to be considering the notion.

  "Difficult, but not impossible."

  Drake nodded. Quickly ran through everything she had said in his head. Made sure he had all the details down cold.

  "I take it then that you did see Bronson Irwin?"

  Jane glanced from him to the door. Rose and peeked out through the opening. Returned to her desk and flipped open a file.

  "I examined Mr. Irwin myself. Sheriff's department brought him in. Said it appeared to be a heart attack, but wanted us to confirm it.

  "There was no family around asking to rush funeral arrangements."

  The last line was added almost as an apology.

  "Their initial ruling was correct. It was a heart attack."

  "Anything at all stand out about it?" Drake said.

  "Not really," Jane said. "He was in pretty good shape for a man in his fifties. Cholesterol levels were okay, not spectacular.

  "The only thing that wasn't exactly where it was supposed to be was his calcium levels."

  Drake's eyes narrowed slightly.

  "Calcium? Is there anything to that?"

  Jane pursed her lips. "I mean, it's not unheard of. Some people just really like their milk."

  Drake smiled. "And I don't know that that's ever killed anybody."

  The statement was meant as a joke. Instead, it made Jane pause.

  For a long moment she remained silent.

  "Actually, if given a large enough injection of Hydrogen Calcide, a person could go into cardiac arrest."

  The inside of Drake's mouth went dry. It might be the kind of information he was looking for.

  "Is there any way to test for that definitively?"

  Jane shook her head. "Just the calcium levels. Like I said, they were extremely high."

  Drake pondered the information for a moment. "It would have to be injected? Did you find any needle marks?"

  "It would, and I did not," Jane said. "Not on his skin any way. Since we're being theoretical here, it could have been injected into his scalp somewhere.

  "Virtually undetectable unless you know to look for it."

  Thoughts began to stampede through Drake's mind one after another.

  "I know I'm pushing my luck here, but would it be possible to look?"

  Jane frowned slightly. "No, I'm sorry. The family came and retrieved the body last Friday."

  Drake nodded. Did his best to mask the disappointment.

  "Miss Jane, I cannot thank you enough. This has been a big help."

  The nervous smile returned. "I don't know how it could have been, but I'm glad just the same."

  "Me too," Drake said. "I owe you, for sure."

  Jane giggled in response. Said nothing.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Time was winding down.

  The afternoon sky was already retreating towards charcoal grey. The late fall evening would soon be upon the Missoula Valley.

  Darkness would set in. Temperatures would drop.

  But that wasn’t the time that was dwindling rapidly.

  That particular clock belonged to the fuse on Hector. To the amount of patience he was willing to expend on a fruitless job. To the amount of disrespect he was willing to take.

  And make no mistake, the way Bargain Mart was treating them was nothing short of disrespectful.

  Raquel could sense his growing angst. In their rented sedan there was nowhere for it to go. Instead, it stayed pinned up inside the small interior of the four-door.

  Expanding by the moment. Pressing against the windows.

  Suffocating them both.

  Not only was the assignment beneath them, it was pointless. The woman had not left her house once the entire day. The only guest she received was the same red-headed fat ass that came by previously.

  No chance in hell she was a threat.

  A cavalcade of thoughts ran through Raquel’s head. That was the way their partnership worked. They both knew it.

  Hector was the muscle. Not to say he was an idiot. Far from it. But he also had a skill-set that thrived on confrontation. On bursts of adrenaline.

  On physical dominance.

  Raquel was the tactician. The one that exploited the angles. Made minor tweaks where they were needed.

  Still, from where she sat, Hector was right. They had two options.

  Option one was to disappear.

  Option two was to slip into London. Make an example of Montgomery. Disappear.

  Neither one involved spending another minute in Missoula.

  Raquel turned to face Hector. Let her own angst show on her face. Said nothing.

  Hector matched the gaze. Nodded slightly.

  That’s all it took. An understanding had been reached.

  Raquel started the car. Turned on the heater. Let it pipe in icy air. Waited a few minutes for it to gradually warm.

  The sound of her phone ringing squawked out above the defrost. Made them both pause momentarily. Stare down at the tiny black burn phone with equal parts animosity and vitriol.

  There was only one person that had the number.

  Raquel let the phone ring six times before picking up. Didn’t bother to turn down the heater. Set it to speakerphone.

  “What?”

  “Good evening,” Montgomery said. Voice dripping with false camaraderie.

  “What?” Raquel repeated.

  “Have there been any new developments from Ms. Galt?” Montgomery asked.

  Clearly a fake reason for calling. Couched in an excuse that already made their skin run cold.

  Hector squeezed his fists so tight the veins bulged in his forearms.

  “What do you really want?” Raquel asked.

  Montgomery paused a moment. “We would like to change our request one last time. This is it, I swear.”

  Raquel and Hector both stared at each other for several long seconds. Said nothing.

  “You can do it this evening,” Montgomery said. “Be on the first plane out in the morning. Paid in full. No questions asked.”

  “We’re doing that anyway,” Hector said. The first time he’d spoken in hours. Voice thick with anger.

  Silence filled the line for several seconds.

  Raquel could picture Montgomery motioning frantically between his colleagues.

  “One million dollars,” Montgomery finally said. Voice tight. Tone low. “One million dollars for one half-hour’s worth of work.”

  Hector again clenched his fists into massive hammers atop his thighs.

  It was the second time in as many days they had tried to buy them.

  It would not happen again.

  “Who’s the target?” Raquel said. Her carnal side was every bit as enraged as Hector.

  Her pragmatic side refused to leave a million dollars just lying on the table.

  Montgomery let out an audible sigh of relief.

  “Jenks, the store manager. He’ll be the last there to lock up tonight. We have a phone conference set up for ten o’clock local time.”

  “That doesn’t give us much time to plan,” Raquel said.

  “You don’t have to,” Montgomery said. “We have access to all their security feeds from here. Make it look quasi-natural and you’re gone.”

  Raquel and Hector continued to stare at each other. Said nothing.

  “Does this mean we have a deal?” Montgomery asked.

  Raquel clicked off the call without a word. Put the rental
in drive and drove off into the gathering darkness.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Uppercut.

  Blood spatter dotted the wall.

  Heel kick.

  An audible burst of wind escaping the lungs.

  Left hook.

  A sickening crunch of bone-on-bone contact.

  Drake leaned back in the armchair he was seated in. Continued to fork chicken enchiladas into his mouth. Pretended not to notice Suzy Q waiting expectantly at his feet.

  “You know, this thing gets any more realistic and I’m going to start looking out for actual zombies.”

  Ajax paused between levels. Bounced on the balls of his feet. Rolled his shoulders.

  “Even if that wasn’t meant as a compliment, I’m taking it as one.”

  “By all means,” Drake said. “You’re good at what you do.”

  “Thank you,” Ajax said. Started into the next level with a flurry of jab combinations.

  Drake hefted another forkful into his mouth. Felt his phone vibrate on his hip. Leaned back far enough to fish it from his jeans.

  On the floor in front of him, Q never took her eyes from the dwindling plate of food.

  Unknown number. 406 area code. Anywhere in the entire state of Montana. Any one of almost a million people.

  Out of habit, Drake preferred to never answer an unknown number.

  Was begrudgingly changing that policy to fit his new post at the clinic.

  “Hello,” Drake said. Made no effort to move. No request to ask Ajax to mute the television.

  “Is this Drake Bell?”

  “It is. Who’s this?” Drake kept the plate in one hand. Phone in the other. Slowly rose.

  “This is Thomas Jenks, from Bargain Mart.” The second part was added almost as an afterthought.

  Ajax paused the game. Turned to see what was going on.

  Drake nodded that it was alright for him to continue. Sat his plate down on an end table. Crossed into his bedroom and shut the door.

  “Mr. Jenks, glad to hear from you. I take it you have a decision?”

  Jenks sighed heavily.

  Already Drake could feel his pulse quicken. Not a good start.

  “I do, but it isn’t what you want to hear.”

  Drake waited a moment. Made sure his voice was even when he replied. “So you’re choosing to go the public route with this?”

 

‹ Prev