Three_Deception Love Murder

by K. J. McGillick

  As I was about to offer my opinion, the morgue attendant came into the waiting section to get us. We signed the visitor ledger, he handed us our temporary visitor badges, and we followed him past a set of swinging double doors. The back area was a noisy hub of busy people trying to deal with various types and levels of collected evidence. The evidence at hand was an unknown woman’s corpse.

  We entered the room and looked at the lifeless body of a young female on a cold steel table. The thought of the harsh cold on her skin made me shudder. To say that didn’t give me the heebie geebies would be an outright lie. The odor was never the same when we were forced to come to these chambers of death. Sometimes the smell of rotting flesh assaulted you as you entered the room, other times a detection of the coppery metal from blood would force an involuntary shiver. The stench of scorched flesh? Well, that was a category all its own. This time the body submerged in water produced a slightly non-offensive musty odor.

  Her clothes had already been cut off and bagged for evidence. The bags sat waiting to be picked up by the Massachusetts detectives in charge of the case. After we had finished our survey of the remains, the autopsy could begin.

  The estimation of the postmortem interval she was in the water was unreliable. But going off the skin sloughing and body temperature, the pathologist estimated she was in the water about a week, possibly less.

  A visible wound on the right side of the head consistent with a bullet entering the skull was all we could confirm. Was it a quick death? Did she put up a struggle? There were no answers to who killed her or why, or the depth of her involvement in this network.

  The technician looked at me and said, “We think the shooter was about a foot from the victim. It appears someone shot her at about a forty-five-degree angle. Doc said she thinks she was sitting up starting to lean forward and somebody from about a foot away shot her. That’s what I heard her say into the machine recording her preliminary impressions. You understand once they finish the measurements that could change.”

  Just as he finished speaking, a woman wearing a white lab coat and sensible shoes with salt-and-pepper hair walked through the doorway. She threw the technician a dismissive nod, and he moved quickly out of the room.

  “Gentlemen, I am Dr. Brenda Tillerson and will be performing the postmortem on the victim right after your witness leaves. I understand you are the FBI agents, and that Nick and Paul somehow caught this case as part of another and they’re on their way. I’ve already spoken to the Massachusetts detectives who want to be here for the autopsy so let’s get your part completed.”

  We introduced ourselves, and she picked up. “What I will do is cover her torso with a sheet and leave the face exposed. I can position the gurney so that her left side is facing your witness, but she still might see the entrance wound. I can cover up that one area with a small bandage if you want. It’s up to you,” she offered writing notes on her chart.

  “No, leave it. We aren’t going to be in here too long. Our objective is to verify Dr. Collier has had no contact with this woman. Just bring the covering to the chest level,” I suggested. “Not a pretty sight, but this viewing is critical to our case.”

  “Okay.” Looking at the text message on her phone she added, “Nick just signed in, so give me five minutes and Peter will show you to the ante area to wait for the witness. He will escort Nick, Paul, and your witness back here to you.”

  We waited for Emma. Viewing a deceased human being prepared by a funeral home is one thing, but seeing a homicide victim is an entirely different level of gruesome.

  I heard Emma’s footsteps before I saw her enter the stark room. It felt like darkness had descended, enveloping us, causing the discomfort I felt to escalate. “You okay?” I asked.

  “Well, considering my double is on the other side, I think my mind has taken a little vacation and it won’t be back for a week,” she whispered, and I noticed a slight tremor in her right hand.

  The technician led us into the viewing room and left to open the shade on the other side of the viewing window.

  “Emma, just focus on the face. I imagine it will be a shock, but anything you tell us will help,” Marino said. The shade opened, and we stood up watching Emma’s reaction. Marino was on her right side, and I stood on her left. The technician folded the thin white sheet back from the woman’s face so it sat level with her chest.

  Emma surprised us when she stepped forward placing her right palm directly on the window and gasped. She asked to have him roll the sheet further down, so the left shoulder was exposed. With a signal from Marino, the cover was moved aside to show a tattoo that looked like a small green frog in a sitting position.

  “I recognize this woman. I know that green frog!” she exclaimed.

  “How? Who is she?” This revelation startled Marino and the rest of us, but he was the first one to ask the question. The silence in the room settled like winter as we waited for a response.

  “Two years ago, when Jude and I began living together, he invited her to stay for ten days . . . almost two weeks. He said she was his best friend’s wife who needed to find a house for them because they wanted to relocate here from abroad. He called her Jennifer. She appeared very pleasant, and nothing about her made me uncomfortable. I didn’t see her often because she was out house hunting, or . . . I don’t know . . . doing whatever she did. Jude went with her a few times when she needed a second opinion. In fact, she came for lunch at school one time with Jude, and I could swear El was there with me. Yes, yes! Eloise remarked I better watch out because she sensed Jude and Jennifer had some history together. She noticed when she had casually touched Jude’s arm he’d leaned into her like it was a natural thing to do. Apparently, my intuition completely shut down around him.”

  “El is one shrewd cookie,” Jackson pointed out.

  “No kidding! After Jennifer had left, it was as if she had never been there. He didn’t say anything about her or her husband who was his friend, and El thought that odd. I questioned him about it, but he brushed it off saying they changed their minds and decided to stay abroad.” Emma sounded mystified.

  “How can you be so confident it’s the same person?” Chavez asked a little skeptically.

  “The second day she was here, she drove to Portland and had two tattoos done both in one sitting. If you look at her back you’ll see a dandelion and hearts emerging from the weed. I am sure it’s not a common tattoo. Anyway, she couldn’t put the salve on the back area as part of the aftercare, so she asked me to help her. That’s when I noticed the frog. I asked her why she chose a frog—a frog is a bit out there, don’t you think? She said she had kissed a lot of frogs to find her prince, and had finally found him,” Emma said with some sadness.

  “Well, when she arrived here didn’t it strike you as strange you had a double?” Chavez squinted at her as if she had lost her mind.

  “Trust me. She did not look like this last time I saw her. We were the same height and body frame, sure, but her nose was broader and thicker. She had bleached-blond hair that she straightened every day, and brown eyes. Mine are blue. Her boobs were twice the size as mine, and I was jealous how sexy she looked in her clothes. Odd though, they look significantly smaller now,” she explained.

  Tapping on the glass Marino gave the okay to shut the shade. “Thank you, Emma. At least now we can link her to White,” he added glancing at me.

  Turning to Emma, Marino said, “We are done here. How about I have Paul run you home? I need to go over some things with Jackson and Cillian.”

  Looking upset but not as shell shocked as I would have expected, I could see the wheels turning in her mind searching for anything more she could relay. It appeared nothing else was forthcoming, so she said yes to the offer for a ride home.

  Before she left she turned to Jackson and said, “You know I would have released the papers to you if I remembered I had them, right? I’m embarrassed that I chose to live in a state of denial all these years because that puts my judgment
in question. You have to trust that whatever I can do to help I will.”

  “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I can accommodate Eloise and a free meal.” He smiled and rubbed her arm.

  With a puff of amusement, she warned, “Watch your ass with her, Jackson. She’s a wild one.”

  Surprised at her statement but with his interest piqued, he countered with a shake of his head. “Of that, I have no doubt. I welcome the challenge, Emma. Game on.”

  “Then I look forward to a blow-by-blow of what happens at dinner tomorrow,” she said. “She can be somewhat dramatic.”

  “Not touching that one with a ten-foot pole, Em. Let’s talk later after I finish my data compilation and look at the trust that White signed,” he said. There was no doubt he was ready to get dinner with Eloise over with.

  Pointing between Jackson and me as if a light bulb moment had occurred she said, “Tomorrow, don’t forget we have class. Also, do you have any idea if Nina will be returning to housekeeping duty? I know it sounds cowardly, but I’m not sure I can face her. Bad enough what he did to disrupt a good family, but now they might be unemployed indefinitely.”

  I could answer that one. “They will not be returning.”

  “I’m overwhelmed with sadness that he deceived an innocent girl,” she said. “I would hate to see Diana come through this unable to trust people in the future. What Jude did to that whole family is unforgivable.”

  “Emma, this was a business opportunity to Jude. We’re talking a multi-billion-dollar global business that he’s involved with at the least. Their business is a well-oiled machine and there is nothing personal about it to them. Without Diana’s participation and with Jude missing in action, vital components are missing, so the engine stops. Their gravy train has hit a wall. The good news is we might be able to flush out the other individuals connected as they try to tie up the loose ends.”

  Glancing at the viewing room I said, “And I’m afraid that woman in there turned into a liability for them. Or she may have been a piece in a game that we haven’t uncovered yet.”

  “I’m a little worried. To be honest, I’m scared shitless that I might be a target.” Emma said what we all were thinking.

  “Way ahead of you. We have details following you and watching Mary. We have someone walking the property every hour and cameras are strategically placed, so we have a continuous real-time feed. Your purpose in this might well be over. With no one to paint and run the export side, they are probably closing the operation here and moving it someplace else. Cutting their losses so to speak,” I suggested.

  “What happened to the paintings he had Diana leave on the dock bench?” Emma wanted to know.

  “On their way overseas. We are monitoring their journey by satellite. Don’t worry,” I said.

  “If they were tying up loose ends then why not kill Diana when they had the opportunity?” she asked looking at Jackson.

  “Don’t know the answer to that one. We have just scratched the surface of how deep this goes. And honestly, too many pieces are still missing to speculate,” Jackson remarked.

  “Okay, everyone. I’m exhausted and ready to go home and rest. So, I guess I’ll see you later,” Emma stated to the room.

  “And remember, do not talk to Eloise until I give you clearance,” Jackson warned.

  “Only about the case? Everything else is open for discussion, right?” she asked giving me a sly smile.

  “Let’s narrow that to everything related to White is off-limits,” he responded. “You’re welcome to discuss my fine ass if you want, or my incredible pecs.”

  “God, like your head isn’t big enough!” she laughed. “You wait. Eloise will chew you up and spit you out, big man.”

  Chavez was her ride home. He was anxiously waiting to depart and gave her the signal to wrap this up. She acknowledged him and gathered her belongings.

  After Emma left with Chavez I inquired, “What do we know about the woman?”

  “Sopia Guslow. She’s a Georgian national according to her passport. We are scouring her background for other identities. We don’t know if this is a new identity, or if that is truly her name and authentic documents,” Jackson offered, “I’ll have something by the end of the day.”

  “You think we are looking at this wrong? Could we have a four-legged chair and not a three-legged stool?” I asked.

  “Absolutely not. I know you think she is connected to White. And you based that on the visit two years ago. I disagree. I believe she is connected to the second leg and I will bet money that person she is attached to is Roselov. You rely on your instincts. Deep down you must feel it too,” he said

  “I can’t agree or disagree. If Jude is the exporter leg, Roselov is likely the importer leg of the stool. He imports the fakes and stolen property from the US and then he exports them out all over Europe and Asia. She’s from Georgia, Roselov’s neck of the woods, but seems to know White personally. None of this makes sense,” I said.

  “Actually, it makes a whole hell of a lot of sense. She probably was here to study Emma to imitate her. Learn to mimic her body movements, quirks or habits, everything down to the way she reacts and laughs. Who knows the endgame? In the end, they might have considered disposing of Emma, and this woman would become Emma for real, as in taking over her life. It’s possible, after they closed down here they planned to move to another state or country. New state, and new Emma where no one would know her, only her credentials,” Jackson offered.

  Jackson had made some good points. The thought of this being the plan from the beginning of the relationship to kill her off was particularly disturbing. People deceived and betrayed on so many levels.

  “But why Emma?” I asked.

  “Think about it. She’s got a PhD in art history. They could ultimately use Emma’s credentials and strategically place this woman in an auction house to do auction valuations. Or in a museum as a curator to switch out pieces as an inside job. She has no family except a crazy old aunt. Who would miss her?” he said with a quick shoulder shrug.

  “That’s pretty far-fetched,” I said but it wasn’t really.

  “What about this whole thing isn’t abnormal? If you have radicals trying to arm terrorists and fund wars, then can you honestly expect any of them wouldn’t cross all lines of decency? Speaking of terrorists, I have to face one for dinner. With the document, I should be able to lock and load a search warrant by morning to search any property we want. It pisses me the hell off that little extortionist is holding me hostage for information,” he stated positively.

  “I’d pay good money to be on the sidelines watching that show. She can be a real ball buster. I’ve seen her in action,” I chuckled and my thoughts went to an image of that shit show.

  “We’ll see. Okay, partner. I’m out of here. I’ve got a crapload of stuff to scan. I’ll call you if I find anything,” he offered. “Oh! This isn’t your bailiwick, but Paris, London, and Rome picked up guys moving around between all three countries. Five are Moroccan, three Pakistani, and they think three of them had been slipping in and out of Syria. So just to keep you in the loop. I don’t think any of that has to do with your antiquities trail that Roberts is involved with, this is something different.”

  “Thanks for the update. Oh, Jackson . . . make sure you wear that lovely burgundy shirt for dinner. It compliments your skin tone. And she’ll appreciate that fine new aftershave,” I threw out to torment him.

  He flipped me the bird as he passed and remarked, “She said not to shave, she went for my stubble. I guess it’s the whole bad boy thing I got going on.”

  “Yeah, you’re just full of badassness. So, I guess you’ll make it through dessert and come home right afterward. Don’t see you getting lucky tonight though,” I called out to him just a little too loudly, but not to the point of being obnoxious.

  I completed the paperwork, terminating our business at the morgue. Exiting the house of death was a better feeling than entering.

  Emma

 
; EXCEPT FOR THE BLADES OF my fan spinning madly to block out any noise, the room was eerily quiet. What was that buzz? It sounded like a broken doorbell. I glanced at my nightstand and found the racket which had invaded my dream. Cillian’s name and face flashed on my cell phone screen. What. The. Hell? Five o’clock in the morning? This better be life or death. We didn’t have class until two, and this was the first day in a week that I’d slept more than three hours.

  As I kicked off the covers I twisted around to reach for the telephone.

  “Cillian, please tell me this call at an ungodly hour is to say Jackson spent the night with Eloise and you need to gossip. Because any other purpose is unacceptable and your life might be in danger.” My threat was real as I rolled back over to swat Sigmund away who was trying to nest above my head.

  I heard deep laughter on the other end, and he replied, “Well, I can report Jackson did spend the night with Eloise so you can spare my life. However, sorry to disappoint you on the gossip front, but there is nothing salacious to report. Eloise just left to go home, and I need you up and ready in an hour.”

  “No, no, no! You can’t say Eloise spent the night and not give me more details. This is huge because I did not see that coming. Was she drunk? Was there lots of wild monkey sex? Was there a declaration of love forever? Start from the top and leave nothing out. But first, tell me why you couldn’t wait another three hours to deliver this tidbit. If Jackson was any good, Eloise will be here in about an hour with donuts and coffee to brief me.” The more excited I became, the more excited Lucy got, and as I rolled out of bed and started jumping foot to foot with maniacal glee, Sigmund scurried for his life. He was not a fan of my mad dance skills.