Secrets, Lies & Alibis

by Patricia H. Rushford

  Philly walked around to Preston, who now stood outside the patrol car smoking a cigarette. “Mr. Collins.” Philly displayed his badge and photo identification. “I’m Detective Johnson, state police. Would you mind coming with us? We need you to make a formal statement and answer some questions.”

  “Do I have a choice? It’s feeding time at my place. The Mrs. will be wondering where I disappeared to.”

  “I’m sorry, but we really need your cooperation on this.” Philly laid a beefy hand on the farmer’s shoulder and led him to the Thunderbird. “We’ll give your wife a call from my car.”

  Preston flipped his cigarette butt to the ground, stepped on it with a slight twist, and then climbed into the backseat.

  As the Thunderbird drove away, Frank felt sorry for the guy. Do a good deed by reporting a crime and get hauled downtown in the back of a police car. Frank headed back toward Dana and his two top detectives. “Trooper Bennett, I wonder if you’d do me a favor. I need to let Connie—my wife—know I’ll be late, but I intend to make the plane one way or another. Tell her I may have to meet her at the airport.”

  “You could leave now, you know,” Eric told him.

  “Right—I could, but I won’t.” Frank wasn’t certain why he had such a hard time letting go and leaving someone else in charge. Maybe it was curiosity. He had to know what they were up against and what or who was out there.

  “You saying you don’t trust us?” Eric said.

  Frank shook his head. “It isn’t that and you know it. I want to see what’s going down. Habit. That’s all.”

  “Dana.” Kevin turned back to the trooper. “While you’re at it, you may as well have dispatch call for all three of us.”

  “Sure, what’s the code for that request? I . . . um, don’t remember.”

  “Twelve-fifty-nine,” the three detectives chorused.

  “Sounds like you’ve used it once or twice,” Trooper Bennett teased as she picked up her radio microphone.

  “Or twice.” Frank walked toward his car and glanced at his watch. “Wonder what’s keeping the M.E.?”

  A green Pontiac Grand Prix pulled up.

  “There’s Mac,” Kevin said. “Is it me or are they making detectives younger these days? The guy looks like he’s fresh out of diapers.”

  “It’s you, old man,” Eric teased. “Mac has to be at least twentyeight.” “Sorry I took so long,” Mac apologized as he unfolded his sixfour frame from the car. “A traffic accident on the Glen Jackson Bridge slowed me down.”

  “No problem,” Frank said. “Our victim isn’t going anywhere, but I am.” He reminded himself of his mission to make the plane.

  When the familiar county-owned white Dodge van joined the other vehicles, Frank breathed a little easier. Kristen Thorpe, the Oregon State Police medical examiner, eased the van to a stop, parking parallel to the crime scene tape. Frank waved her over so he could fill her and the new guy in.

  MAC FELT LIKE HE'D BEEN DROPPED onto a movie set. He recognized Dana Bennett. He’d dated her several years ago. “Hey, Dana.” He gave her a wide grin. “When did you sign on with OSP?”

  She beamed at him. “A few weeks ago.”

  She looked good and Mac wondered how she’d feel about going out with him again. He brought his thoughts up short. An engaged man should not be thinking about dating another woman. He cleared his throat and glanced at a muscular, grayhaired guy who looked to be in his late forties. The man, Detective Bledsoe, glanced briefly at Dana then looked back at Mac, obviously curious about the interchange.

  “Kevin Bledsoe.” The detective offered his hand and a smile. “Glad you could make it, Mac.”

  “Yes, sir. I met you during my orientation.” Mac wasn’t about to go into a lengthy explanation about his relationship with Dana, so he changed the subject. “Where’s the body?”

  Kevin raised an eyebrow. “We’re just getting ready to check it out.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t been down there yet.” He was curious and eager to get started. The others still didn’t seem to be in all that much of a hurry.

  “Had to wait for the M.E.,” Kevin answered.

  “Oh, right.” Mac hadn’t wanted to seem too eager but was managing to do just that.

  “Why do you have to wait?” Dana asked.

  Drawing from his classes on the matter rather than from experience, Mac answered, “In Oregon, a corpse can’t be disturbed until the medical examiner or one of the deputies makes a general ruling on the cause of death. The deaths are preliminarily determined to be of natural causes or by unnatural means. That includes criminal homicide. The deputy medical examiner then has the authority to forward the body to the state police medical examiner’s office in Portland for an autopsy to determine the cause of death.” Mac cleared his throat. His explanation had sounded like he’d read it out of a textbook.

  Dana didn’t seem to notice. “Sounds like a cheery occupation.”

  “Beats stopping cars in the rain.” Dr. Thorpe’s grin took the edge off her sarcasm.

  Dana rocked backward on the heels of her boots, apparently startled by the comment and by the woman herself.

  Mac wasn’t sure what to think. Being new to homicide, he’d never met Dr. Thorpe, and now catching his first real look at her, he held back a yelp. Her hair was short and spiked, blonde, and highlighted with bright orange dye. She wore no makeup—didn’t really need to as far as he was concerned. She was a natural beauty, with thick eyelashes and porcelain skin. The doctor reached for Mac’s hand. “Kristen Thorpe. And you are?”

  He was surprised by the strength in her grip. “Mac, um . . .

  McAllister. Detective.”

  Dr. Thorpe reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. “Don’t let the hair fool you, Mac. Regardless of what some people think, it doesn’t interfere with my intelligence.”

  Mac hadn’t been thinking that at all but didn’t bother to correct her. So much for getting off on the right foot.

  Frank finished loading his 35mm camera. “Do you all know each other?” Without waiting for a response, he finished making the introductions.

  Mac didn’t need to be introduced to Eric. His cousin raised a hand in mock salute to him. He wondered if Eric had told the others anything about their relationship, or more importantly, about the family. He hoped not. There were family secrets he’d just as soon not divulge to anyone, let alone his coworkers.

  Eric gave him a sly grin and turned to the M.E., a glint of approval in his eyes. “Glad you could join us, Doc.”

  “You think we could get started now?” Frank asked. “We’re burning daylight.”

  “At your service. What brings us out on this fine occasion?” Dr.

  Thorpe asked.

  Frank explained the circumstances of the find to Dr. Thorpe.

  “We haven’t been down to the body yet. We’re still working our way in,” he told her.

  “Here, Dana.” Frank removed a single white sheet of paper from his binder. “I’d like you to keep the crime scene log for us.”

  “The log? Sure. What do I do?”

  “Just note on the form when people arrive. Fill in the box for the person’s name, time of arrival, and purpose for entering the scene. Make sure you write down the checkout time too.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “And one more thing. Nobody, I mean nobody, gets past this crime scene tape without my say-so. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  “Now if you all will excuse me, I have some photos to take.” Frank walked away from them and began shooting pictures.

  Kevin and Eric had both outfitted themselves in their crime scene attire—blue nylon jackets with yellow State Police insignias on the back. Mac dug his out of his trunk and slipped it on. He hoped his deodorant was still working. The heat from the late afternoon sun and the high humidity made the place feel like a sauna.

  The detectives placed white paper booties over their dress shoes so as not to le
ave footprints at the scene. More importantly, the disposable footwear protected their shoes from any unpleasant substances they might step in during the scene processing. Mac was beginning to feel more at ease. He knew the procedure—it was the actual experience he lacked, and now he was getting that as well.

  Eric stretched a pair of standard issue powdered latex gloves onto his hands. He handed a pair to Kevin and another to Mac.

  “I hate these things,” Eric complained. “White powder gets all over everything and my clothes look like I’ve been eating powdered doughnuts all day.”

  “I wouldn’t worry, Eric,” Kevin teased. “Everyone knows you stick to carrots.”

  Mac grinned at the two men who’d been partners for many years. He felt like an intruder having been assigned to Kevin and hoped Eric wouldn’t hold a grudge. Detective Kevin Bledsoe was the best, and Mac wondered why Frank hadn’t made Kevin the lead. Not that it mattered. Maybe Frank thought it would be better if Kevin was out in the field. The man sure knew his stuff.

  “Hey, Kev.”

  “Yeah, Frank?”

  “I shot three rolls of film of the roadway and outer crime scene.

  Why don’t you and the doc move inside the tape while I sketch the area and take a quick video? I’m going to stay out of the ring on this baby so I can avoid any grand jury testimony while I’m on vacation.”

  “Sounds good, Sarge.” Kevin motioned to the trooper. “Log us in at 1725 please, Dana.”

  “Um—that’s 5:25 P.M., right?”

  “Right.”

  Mac couldn’t stop staring at the medical examiner. Kristen Thorpe broke the mold. She couldn’t have been too much older than he was, maybe in her mid-thirties. She checked the documents on her stainless-steel clipboard and raised her gaze to his.

  He glanced away, then back again.

  “I know that look.” She raised an eyebrow. “You’re either flirting with me or you want to know what I’m doing.”

  Mac shifted his gaze to his shoes as heat rose up his neck.

  She chuckled. “If it’s flirting, talk to me later. If it’s the latter, I’m just noting the weather conditions.”

  He couldn’t do much but smile back at her as she checked the thermometer and noted the day’s temperature—92 degrees.

  Dr. Thorpe attached her pen to the clipboard and picked up a large red plastic case. A white sticker had been glued to one side.

  The large bold letters read, “My day begins when your day ends.”

  Seemed as though it was like that for all of them. For a brief moment he wondered what it would be like to have a girlfriend who really understood what being a police officer was all about. Linda kept saying she’d get used to it. Maybe she would in time.

  Kevin grabbed his own camera equipment, and they ducked under the tape just as Frank rejoined them.

  “Okay, guys, you know the drill.” Kevin handed his camera equipment to Mac, who put the bag’s strap over his shoulder without comment. “Follow me single file; don’t disturb a pebble on the way in. Let’s confirm we have the real McCoy before we go all the way with the scene process.”

  “I’ve got the video rolling with the audio on, guys,” Frank reminded them. “So watch your language.”

  “Yeah, like we need the warning.” Kevin moved forward, stepping over the tire tracks in the dusty earth. Eric, Mac, and Dr. Thorpe followed. They walked along the paved roadside to the overflow ditch, attempting to take the path least likely used by the suspect or suspects.

  As they approached the edge of the sloping earth, Dr. Thorpe caught her breath and whistled. “Looks like you guys are working the weekend. I can see the torso and pelvic girdle. Human remains. No doubt about it.”

  Chapter Six

  Mac again tried to suppress his excitement. Adrenaline buzzed through him.

  “Let’s photograph our way in,” Kevin said. “Mac, you take the digital photos with your setup and I’ll get the video camera from Frank to document the rest of the path.”

  “Will do.” Apparently Kevin didn’t believe in just letting the new recruits stand by and watch. Mac appreciated having an assignment—an important one at that.

  Kevin jogged the short distance back to Frank, who stood at the edge of the crime scene tape. “We’ll be able to recover the body tonight, but we’ll need to hold the scene overnight to process all this garbage. We’ll need a crew out here tomorrow.”

  Frank nodded. “I’ll call in and have dispatch send a shift car to relieve Trooper Bennett. We’ll lock up the scene until we’re done.” Glancing over Kevin’s shoulder, he added, “How does it look?”

  “Nude female. My guess is she was dumped there. Hard to tell, though.”

  Mac glanced around the litter-strewn area where high school and college kids tended to party. It was a popular spot, with an abundance of shade trees and secluded areas. Patches of grass and a sandy beach bordered a wide spot in the river where people could swim and fish. Working patrol, he’d stopped more than one carload of kids coming from here. Kids too young and too drunk to drive and still trying.

  “Could be that one of the parties got too rough.” Kevin echoed Mac’s thoughts. “I’ll take the video from here, Sarge.”

  “Right.” Frank handed over the camera. “I hate to leave you guys with this.”

  “We’ll handle it,” Kevin assured him.

  “I’d like to get her name before I leave town.”

  Kevin grunted. “Like that’s going to happen.”

  Frank checked his watch. “While I’m waiting for you yahoos to get back, I’ll have dispatch scare up all the recent missing person teletypes from the last month.”

  “Good. See you in a few.”

  Kevin reached Mac’s side and turned to watch his boss settle into the front seat of his car to make the calls. “Poor guy. Just can’t leave it alone.”

  “Do you think he’ll go on his trip?”

  “He’d better or we’ll have another homicide on our hands. His wife will kill him.” Kevin smiled.

  Mac and the veteran detective joined the others and moved forward to where they could see the remains.

  “Whoa!” The medical examiner squinted to take a photograph with her own digital camera. “That’s no boating accident.”

  “What?” Mac scrutinized the dumpsite.

  “You know, that shark movie. When they found the shark attack victim on the beach and took her to the morgue, remember? The examiner said, ‘That’s no boating accident.’ Remember that one?”

  “Oh yeah, right.” Mac sighed and rolled his eyes. Dr. Kristen Thorpe was one strange woman.

  “I loved that movie.” Kristen placed the camera back into her plastic tote box.

  “Doesn’t anything bother her?” Mac muttered to Kevin when Dr. Thorpe’s back was turned to them.

  “I guess that’s how she copes, making light of the situation.

  Probably keeps her sane. We all have our ways of doing that. You’ll see.”

  “To each his own, I guess.” Mac stood above the scene, catching a whiff of the corpse even though the wind was blowing most of the smell away from them.

  Eric pulled out a menthol nasal inhaler and used it. “You have one of these?”

  Mac shook his head. “Are you serious?”

  “It helps. I don’t have an extra one. Just breathe through your mouth as much as you can.”

  “Okay, people.” Kevin lowered the camera. “I’m finished with the scene for now.”

  That meant only one thing. They were ready to recover the body. Mac’s stomach lurched as the team moved forward and the smell grew stronger. He swallowed back the bile rising in his throat and closed his eyes for a second. You are not going to throw up, he told himself in no uncertain terms. Mac closed off his nose and pulled slivers of air through pursed lips.

  Solemn as mourners at a funeral, the team stood silently for a moment as if to pay their respects. Mac wanted to turn around and run. The lush Oregon climate and shaded earth had been
a fertile setting for the ferns and soft ground foliage where the body rested.

  The victim’s torso lay parallel to the trunk of a fallen maple tree, her left shoulder and hip partially hidden under the tree’s girth.

  The legs were bent at the knee, with the feet folded behind her buttocks. With the right side of the torso exposed, Mac could easily make out the victim’s right breast and pubic area. Her arms were stretched above her shoulders, also parallel to the trunk of the fallen tree. The left hand was tucked under a mass of ferns and not visible from their vantage point. The right hand was clearly visible, clinched in a loose grip as if she were holding someone’s hand.

  Mac swallowed back the tennis ball–sized lump in his throat.

  Stay objective. Don’t think about it as a person. Mac tried to take photos, but his vision blurred. His nostrils rebelled. His stomach lurched. Mac ducked his head and took a step back, colliding with a tree. He twisted around and plunged forward, depositing his lunch on the riverbank.

  He felt a movement at his side. “Keep your head down for a minute.” Kevin pressed his hand to the back of Mac’s neck.

  “I-I’m sorry.” Mac gripped his stomach and heaved again.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Kevin pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dipped it into the river, then handed it to Mac. “Wash your face. Take a minute to pull yourself together, then get back up there. I’m counting on you to get those photos.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mac gasped for air. The smell was worse, but somehow his stomach began to settle down. He drew the wet cloth down his face, catching his tears as he went. He’d messed up. First time out and he’d blown it. He’d probably get demoted and go back to being a trooper. Maybe standing out in the rain handing out tickets wasn’t such a bad thing.

  Mac straightened up and with new resolve made his way back to the scene. He started taking photos again, trying to see without seeing. Be objective, he reminded himself again. You have a job to do.