B.J. gestured toward the aluminum gurney and the tote case that held his battery-powered work lights, then glanced at the gray sky. “I hope this weather holds. This job will be tough enough without fighting the rain.”
He slid me van door closed and hoisted his forensic gear. “Need any help, Amy?”
Amy slung the straps of her purse and two camera straps around her neck. “No, you go on ahead. I want to talk to Hue’s husband.”
Carrying her forensic satchel, she stepped off the graveled strip where they’d parked and slogged through ankle-deep water to a man in an orange workman’s jacket who was taking in the scene. “Excuse me, are you Raymond Quoy?”
“That’s me.” His round face crinkled into laugh lines. “Are you Dr. Prescott?” At her nod, his smile broadened. “Me and the kids have been hearing ‘Amy this’ and ‘Amy that’ ever since Hue met you.”
Amy laughed. “She and I have a mutual admiration pact. I think very highly of your wife, Mr. Quoy.”
“So do I.” He flushed and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “And call me Raymond, everybody else in town does.”
She nodded. “Raymond, have you or any of the other men seen that car before?”
“I haven’t.” He gazed down at his mud-splashed boots. “Some of my men may have.” His eyes met hers. “But I don’t want Sheriff Boyce to know that The men are scared they might end up like she did.”
“Do you think any of them knew her?”
“No one mentioned any names.”
“Was the car full of water?”
“Yes. All four windows were open several inches.”
“Did you notice if the body was on the driver’s or passenger’s side of the car?”
“She was behind the steering wheel. The seat belt was holding her in place.”
“Thanks, Raymond, you’ve been a big help.”
“She looks pretty awful. Dr. Prescott.” He grimaced. “I wouldn’t want to do what you do.”
“That’s what most people say.” She smiled. “You better call me Amy, or Hue won’t know who you’re talking about.”
He reached for her satchel. “Let me take that for you,” he said.
Amy started to decline his offer, but he’d already taken the bag. She was glad he had. To reach the car, they had to travel through stretches of heavy mud, tall grass, and weeds that dragged at her feet. When she reached the scene, she thanked Raymond for his assistance.
He lifted his orange cap by the bill, said, “Nice to have met you,” and went back to join his men.
Amy walked over to where her father and Dr. Epps were at work. The car sat on a ridge at bottom of a shale-covered slope. B.J. had divided the exterior of the car into quadrants and assigned a portion to Dr. Epps. B.J. examined the car’s bumper and grill with a magnifying glass.
He glanced at Amy. “Take lots of pictures.”
“Stupid waste of time.” Sheriff Boyce stood with his gaze angled away from the car. He kicked a rock into the water and flung out his arms. “Jesus Christ! There ain’t no sense in going through this whole damned rigmarole again.”
“Why is that. Sheriff?” Amy kept a smile pasted on her face. She wanted to keep their conversation on an amiable level if she could. Perhaps, if he had time to think something through he might not jump to one of his screw-loose conclusions.
The sheriff stared out at the churning flood waters. “The woman was probably drunk, or speeding, or both, and went into the river.”
B.J. snorted derisively. “Both the front and rear license plates are gone.”
“That’s right, Fred.” Dr. Epps shifted his attention from the right rear fender to Sheriff Boyce. “Seems to me someone doesn’t want us to know who she is.”
Sheriff Boyce swung around, caught sight of the body, turned pale, and looked as though he wanted to vomit. “The plates coulda gotten snagged on something,” he said in a weak voice.
Dr. Epps’ gaze darted from Amy to B.J. When neither of them commented, he said, “It’s possible, I guess.”
Amy busied herself adjusting her camera and snapping pictures. If she got pulled into their discussion, she’d lose her patience for sure.
“Bumper and grill are unmarked and intact” B.J., with an obstinate expression, flung the declaration at the sheriff’s back. “Pretty damned hard to run off a road without hitting something.” He inspected the windows and door handles, dusted and searched for prints.
Dr. Epps peered at B.J. from around the back of the car. “How’re we going to get inside with all the doors locked?”
“I have a Slim Jim.” B.J.‘s eyes twinkled. “You want to jimmy the door lock. Sheriff?”
Sheriff Boyce glanced over his shoulder and gave him a sour look. “No way. Dead people give me the willies.”
B.J. worked the device, opened the door, and stepped aside while Amy drew a rough sketch of the inside and the position of the corpse. Dr. Epps stood in the background, observing her.
A smile twitched the corners pf Amy’s mouth. If his interest held, he’d soon be a much more efficient coroner. She photographed the car’s interior, indicating the angle of each shot on her sketch.
Behind her, B.J. fidgeted with impatience. “Is the key in the ignition?”
“Yes. In the off position.”
“How about the light switch?”
Amy snapped another picture. “That’s off too. And the gear shift is in neutral.”
Dr. Epps cleared his throat “The ignition would have been on and the car in gear,” he said, raising his voice. “ff the woman went into the river by accident”
B.J. nodded. “That’s right How about the emergency brake, Amy?”
She squatted down to get a clearer view. “It’s not engaged, and there’s no registration slip on the steering post.”
“Could be in the glove compartment,” B.J. tested the dead woman’s seat belt. “This is sure cinched up tight”
Amy, noticed a clamp on the seat belt similar too those used to hold a child seat in place. “Better make sure of the distance from her feet to the pedals before you move her.”
“Good idea.” B.J. took the measurements while Amy recorded them on her sketch.
After he finished, Amy moved in to fasten paper sacks around the woman’s hands and feet In the meantime, B.J. and Dr. Epps arranged an unzipped body bag on the gurney. As soon as Amy completed her task, the two men tackled the chore of getting the corpse out of the car.
“This isn’t something I’d want to do every day,” Dr. Epps said as he slid his arm under the woman’s knees.
“We’re lucky the water was so damned cold. It slowed decomposition.” B.J. grasped the woman’s shoulders. “Ready?”
Dr. Epps nodded and together, they got her out of the car and into the body bag.
The instant B.J. closed me zipper, the sheriff strode over and peered in the car’s side window. “Her purse is on the floor in the rear of the car. That’ll tell us who she is.” He reached out to grab the door handle.
Amy opened her mouth to object, then remembered she was in a subordinate position at the scene. “Don’t you think I’d better dust it for prints first?”
The sheriff snatched back his hand. “Well, get to it. What the hell you waiting for?”
After making a note of the purse’s location, Amy got out her fingerprint kit. A light brush of gray powder on both sides of the black patent leather clutch bag revealed nothing but an unblemished surface. She handed it to the sheriff. “It’s been wiped clean.”
Boyce thrust out his chin. “Bull.”
“Any woman who owns a patent leather purse can tell you they are usually covered with fingerprints.”
Sheriff Boyce growled and unclasped the bag. Inside were a lipstick, a mascara, a comb, and several dimes. “Shit!” He flung the bag on the backseat, stormed around the car, jerked open the passenger door and punched in the button on the glove box. It contained a sodden Washington State map and an owner’s guide. He slammed th
e car door harder than necessary, folded his arms, and surveyed them with beetled brows.
“Are your men going to tow the car to impound?” B.J. asked.
“I sure as hell can’t leave it here.”
“Fine,” B.J. said. “We’ll meet them there and go over the interior.”
He grabbed hold of his end of the gurney. “Lead off, Homer.”
Sheriff Boyce wheeled on Amy. “He did this, didn’t he? That’s how come you and your old man know what’s happening in Wheeler sooner than anybody else does.”
Amy bristled. “Who are you referring to?”
He narrowed his eyes and moved forward a step. “Your gook friend. That’s who.”
Anger heated her cheeks. “Dr. Nguyen is,”
“Doctor, hell. He’s a killer, that’s what he is.” His spittle sprayed her face. “Where is he?”
Amy clenched her fist until her nails bit into her palm. “He’s where he should be,” she said in as even a tone as she could manage. “He’s taking care of his father-in-law’s landscape business.”
“His business, you mean. That’s one more reason he had to kill his wife.” He stomped off toward his car. “He’s going back to jail, Prescott, and no hotshot lawyer’s gonna get him out.”
Amy glared at his stiff-necked figure, picked up as much of the equipment as she could carry, and followed the men along the graveled logging road. She’d gone only a short way when she spotted Jed MacManus hurrying toward her.
“What the hell’s going on?” he yelled before he had even reached her.
Amy set down her burden. “Did you find Cam?”
“Missed him, goddammit. He was out at the greenhouses last night.” Jed shook his head. “This morning he got a phone call and took off.” He gestured toward B.J. and Dr. Epps. “Who’s in the bag?” he said.
“An Asian woman. They found her car in the river this morning.”
“Is she the one we’re looking for?”
She shrugged. “No I.D. of any kind. Registration and license plates were gone.”
“Anybody recognize her?”
“That wouldn’t be easy. The car’s been in the river for a week or more.”
A worried look spread over Jed’s face. “What’s the sheriff so burned up about?”
“He thinks Cam’s responsible.”
Jed shoved his hands into the pockets of his blue down jacket. “God, Amy, he wouldn’t skip town, would he?”
Amy felt a stab of fear. “He’s an emotional wreck, Jed. He’s angry and impatient and he may have a gun.” Her sense of foreboding increased with each word she spoke. “He’s capable of anything.”
20
Despite the nagging pain in her back, Amy persevered. She and B.J. removed the Honda’s rear seat. A large stain had soaked into the upholstery. They planned to dry it slowly at the lab before running any tests.
After drying all surfaces inside the car with hair driers, they rolled up the windows, and used cyanoacrylate as a fuming agent. When the air cleared, they inspected every portion of the interior. As B.J. squatted on his haunches in the back, he sighed. “Dam-it, this guy was too blasted careful. Everything’s clean.”
“Keep looking. Even the cleverest killers make mistake.” Amy eased herself onto me floor of the front seat until she lay on her side. She shone her flashlight this way and that, straining her neck to see into nooks and crannies. All of a sudden, she let out a yell. “Found one on the seat adjustment lever.” She rolled over onto her back and peered upward. “There are a couple others on the underside of the steering wheel.”
“Good. While you’re finishing here, I’m going to start packing up. I want to get done and go home. I’m pooped.”
Half an hour later, as they prepared to leave when Sheriff Boyce’s car splashed down the flood-eroded street leading to the fenced impound lot and came to a mud spurting stop.
He got out of the car and marched over to them. “I’ve turned this whole goddamned town upside down.” He glared at Amy. “That slant-eyed sonofabitch has disappeared.”
Amy glared back. “Watch your mouth. Sheriff. I’ve had all I can take of your bigoted slurs.”
B.J. placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Why are you looking for Dr. Nguyen?”
The sheriff’s face turned red and blotchy with anger. “He’s given me all the grief he’s going to. That’s why. I’m putting out a warrant for his arrest.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit premature? We haven’t found a shred of evidence to indicate Cam had anything to do with this woman’s death.”
“He knew her, didn’t he?”
“We have to prove who she is before we’ll know that.”
The sheriff snorted. “Don’t pull that crap on me, Prescott. You two probably been hiding stuff just to protect the sneaky bastard.” He turned on his heel, got into his car and sped away.
Dusk had fallen by the time B.J. and Amy got their evidence pouches sorted, recorded, and stowed away in their lab. B.J. patted Amy on the shoulder. “Go get some rest, kitten. You look beat.”
She took the elevator upstairs to her apartment, called Hue, then flopped onto the couch and propped her swollen feet on a stack of pillows.
In spite of her weariness, questions battered her brain. Where was Cam? Why had he run off? Was the dead woman Chea Le? If so, who had killed her and why?
The phone she’d placed on the coffee table rang, interrupting her thoughts. She lifted the receiver and answered.
“God, Amy,” Jed said. “You sound like I feel.”
“Four deaths, Jed. And we still don’t have any answers. It’s getting me down.”
“Me too. Have you eaten dinner?”
“I haven’t had the energy.”
“Let’s go somewhere. Maybe we’ll think better on a full stomach.”
She sighed. “Sounds nice, but I don’t feel up to it.”
“Then I’ll bring it to you. Do you like Chinese?”
Tears sprang into her eyes, almost taking her by surprise. “Yes, but Jed,”
“You live on Endicott don’t you?”
“I’m not fit company for,”
“Anyone but me,” he finished for her. “I’ll be there in an hour. Okay?”
“I suppose so. Ring the bell and I’ll let you in.”
With an effort, she dragged herself into the bathroom, washed her face, combed her hair, and dabbed on lipstick, but she still felt miserable. Why are you doing this? she asked herself. Jed can’t take Nathan’s place. The tears came again. She squeezed her eyes shut. How long? How long before the hurt and despair turned to bitterness?
Trudging through the apartment in her stocking feet, she switched on lights and put the rooms in order. When the buzzer sounded, she pushed a button and spoke into the intercom, “What’s the password?”
Jed chuckled. “A closed mouth gathers no feet”
Amy laughed and was amazed at how much better it made her feel. She triggered the downstairs lock and a few minutes later heard the clang of the elevator’s brass grilled gate as Jed got out on the second floor. She hurried to open me door.
Jed carried two large brown paper sacks that exuded an aroma of chow mein. “Where do you want this?”
“Let’s eat in the kitchen.” She led him into a room where farm scene wallpaper complemented oak floors and cabinetry.
“This is nice,” Jed said, setting the bags on the counter. “I like early American.” He grinned. “Makes me feel like I’m at my grandmother’s house.”
“Me too,” she said, making a face at him. “I patterned it after my father’s kitchen on Lomitas Island. The house belonged to my great, great, great grandparents.”
Jed opened the cardboard containers of food while she set two place settings on the round oak table’s yellow linen cloth. “How did you know where I lived?”
“Cam told me once. Why?”
“We don’t give out our address. You never know when someone you’ve helped convict might come looking
for you.”
He nodded grimly. “That’s the excuse my ex-wife gave for not having children.”
Amy looked across the table at him. “She had a point. I’ve been worrying about it ever since I got pregnant”
“But you still would have gotten pregnant. Right?”
Her nerves tightened. “Under different circumstances, I might have timed it better. But yes, I wanted a child.” She bit her lip. Not just a child, Nathan’s child.
Moving to the sink, she filled a copper kettle, set it on the stove, and turned on the burner. “Do you want tea?”
“No, thanks.” He pulled a bottle of wine from one of the sacks. “I need something to make me forget what a lousy day this has been. Got a cork puller?”
In a drawer, she found a corkscrew she’d purchased at a wine tasting party at the Chateau St. Michelle vineyard. The sight of the stainless steel object brought back unpleasant memories of the final days of her marriage. Mitch had gotten high at the party and made passes at every woman in the room.
Pushing aside thoughts of the quarrel that had ensued, she took a goblet and a cup from the cupboard and set them on the table.
“Would you like a glass, Amy?”
“Alcohol is off limits.”
“Oh, of course.” Jed continued to work the gadget’s metal prongs down each side of the cork. “So, do you have any idea where Cam might have gone?”
“I have a list of his acquaintances. You might give them a call.”
He popped the cork, filled his glass, and took a long sip. “His jumping bail sure as hell won’t help his court case.”
“Neither will anything else that’s happened lately.” Amy put a spoon in each cardboard container, set them on the table, and sat down. “It’s time we got a break of some kind.”
“You said you were going to check the clothing Cam wore the night of the murder. Find anything?”
“Nothing that matched the upholstery in the apartment he claims he was in.”
Jed blew out his breath, helped himself to a portion of beef with Chinese mushrooms and bamboo shoots, and passed the box to Amy. “Did you learn anything more about the dead woman?”
Lethal Legacy Page 12