Scattered Graves dffi-6

by Beverly Connor

  their way. They started in on Garnett, trying to re

  move him. Had him investigated by Internal Affairs,

  accused him of malfeasance when he was chief of de

  tectives. It blew up big when he refused to say you

  turned over the bone lab to the city. Garnett was

  heard threatening the mayor. He said somebody like him didn’t deserve to be around decent people, didn’t

  deserve to be around at all. Something like that.’’ Wow, thought Diane. She had no idea she had be

  come such a part of local politics. ‘‘Is there any other

  evidence against Garnett?’’ asked Diane.

  ‘‘He was seen leaving the mayor’s house at the right

  time,’’ said Izzy. ‘‘Really, I’m not sure what they have.

  Peeks isn’t saying much.’’

  ‘‘What does Garnett say?’’ asked Diane.

  ‘‘Nothing much at the moment. Colin Prehoda’s his

  attorney, and you know how they are. They tell you

  to shut up,’’ said Izzy. ‘‘That’s probably a good thing.’’ ‘‘Who is working the crime scene?’’ asked Diane,

  hoping that it was the Georgia Bureau of Investigation

  and not Bryce.’’

  ‘‘I don’t know that anybody is right now,’’ said Izzy.

  ‘‘But I imagine it will be Bryce. At least Neva and

  David will do a good job.’’

  ‘‘David resigned,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.’’ He paused for several

  moments. ‘‘You know, I just can’t see Edgar Peeks

  inviting the GBI in.’’

  ‘‘He may not have a choice. Having a mayor gunned

  down might attract the people in Homeland Security,’’

  she said.

  ‘‘I don’t know if that would be good or bad,’’ said

  Izzy. ‘‘I don’t trust Bryce. He doesn’t seem too bright

  to me. On the other hand, I don’t want the state or the

  feds to get the idea that Garnett might be involved.

  Sometimes it’s better to deal with the devil you know.’’ ‘‘What do you want me to do?’’ asked Diane. ‘‘Find out who killed the mayor,’’ said Izzy. ‘‘You don’t want much. I don’t have any standing

  in this. I wouldn’t be allowed to investigate,’’ she said. ‘‘Like I said, we got that worked out. There’s a

  private investigator in Atlanta who’s going to let you

  work under his license. Prehoda’s setting it up. You

  just have to let him hire you, temporary like,’’ said

  Izzy. ‘‘It was my idea,’’ he added, grinning. Shit, thought Diane. She liked the idea.

  Chapter 17

  The house that Spence Jefferies lived and died in was one of the larger homes in Rosewood. It had a bright gray stone exterior, arched windows, several chimneys, and dark gray multiple roof peaks embellished with small tapering towers. It had a circular drive with a locked gate at the entrance, which was why Diane was standing on the street in the cold waiting for Colin Prehoda to come let her in.

  Douglas Garnett had hired Colin as his attorney. Colin had set it up so that technically Diane and the detective agency she was temporarily attached to worked for him. That way, most of her discoveries would be the work product for his client. This gave her access to the evidence and got her past those who did not want her involved.

  Most of the police she had dealt with on this case were forthcoming, anxious to help. They supported Garnett. But there were those who were against him. Very few people were undecided. A few were hostile to the point that when they met her in the hallways they brushed close to her, hitting her shoulder with theirs as they passed. Diane supposed that was meant to intimidate, but she didn’t find it particularly intim idating. For her it delineated whose side they were on. It was like wearing a uniform, showing your colors, flying a flag. It had been an interesting couple of days.

  As she waited outside the gate she studied a floor plan of the house. It was a little over five thousand square feet. The trouble with large houses is there are too many doors leading to the outside. She doubted that all the doors were even listed on the floor plan she had. It was a drawing given to her by Colin, and not the registered blueprints for the house. The draw ing didn’t show the basement. She was willing to bet there were several more outside doors to the base ment.

  Then there were the windows—big houses have lots of windows. Of course, big houses have alarm systems. The mayor’s hadn’t gone off the night he was killed— leading everyone to believe that he knew who killed him, had let the murderer in.

  Colin said there was an approach from the rear of the estate, a sort of service entrance that featured a gate, which was usually locked. Colin said the mayor preferred coming in that way because it was hidden from the front and no one could tell when he came and went. Another way for a killer to come and go unnoticed, she thought. The mayor didn’t have cam eras at that service entrance.

  Diane had seen the autopsy reports. Colin had con vinced the judge that it was in everyone’s best interest to move things along quickly. But getting information about the crime was like pulling teeth. Shane Eastling, the new medical examiner, was slow to comply with the judge’s order to give all the information to Colin. Eastling had delayed, saying the reports weren’t ready, that his copier was broken, that he had to be out of his lab for a while, that his secretary was out sick. Diane camped outside his office with a portable copier and he finally complied. It didn’t surprise her that his unfriendliness bordered on hostility, but it was unusual— Diane normally got along well with medical exam iners.

  It did come to her attention that Shane Eastling was a friend of Jennifer Jeffcote-Smith and had recom mended her to Bryce. Perhaps Eastling thought Diane should have given up her lab and her position as fo rensic anthropologist to Jennifer. A rather unreason able view to take, she thought.

  The autopsies showed part of what Diane already knew—the mayor had died from a gunshot to the back of the head. According to the reports, the mayor had a contact wound and no defensive marks.

  Bryce’s report was interesting in what it left out— blood evidence. They had collected no samples. They did find fingerprints belonging to Garnett in the kitchen and on a table in the foyer. Investigating de tectives had located a witness who saw Garnett’s car leave the mayor’s house. They had a security-camera tape showing Garnett enter and leave through the gate. Neither Diane nor Colin had seen the tape. It was another piece of evidence Peeks was delaying giv ing to them, and it made Colin suspicious. If it showed Garnett, that was powerful evidence in the prosecu tor’s favor. So what was the problem? Diane suspected Lloyd Bryce and Edgar Peeks were just generally try ing to give them a hard time.

  Diane hadn’t spoken with Garnett yet. She wanted to get the feel of the crime scene before she met with him face-to-face. Colin told her Garnett had indeed met with the mayor at his home very briefly. Garnett told Colin he was trying to reason with the mayor about the crime lab. He said he was trying to convince the mayor that Diane’s idea of putting it near the police station was a good one and that the city would have more control over it there than in the museum. Garnett also said the mayor was threatening to fire Neva.

  ‘‘So, that’s what Garnett was doing there,’’ said Diane. ‘‘He was still trying to protect his police offi cers.’’ At least Neva had a fallback position at the museum, she thought. Garnett probably didn’t know that.

  Colin drove up in his charcoal Escalade and parked it behind Diane’s red Explorer. He got out and greeted Diane as he crossed the street. He walked up to the gate and looked at it as if expecting it to open.

  ‘‘I’m going to have to keep pushing on everything,’’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘‘The crime scene crew said they were finished, but when I asked to do a walk through, Peeks tried to stop me, saying they are still
finishing up. The guy’s throwing up road blocks at every turn. However’’—he patted his coat pocket—‘‘I have our ticket in—a court order. And this.’’ He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a key that he dangled before him with a smile.

  The black wrought-iron gate was equipped with a simple lock, not one that would keep a serious gate crasher out, but it was apparently causing Colin some problems.

  ‘‘That’s the problem with skeleton keys; you have to fiddle with them. There,’’ he said as the gate opened.

  ‘‘They didn’t give you a key?’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘No. Peeks said he would meet us. But I’m dubious of any good intentions on his part, so I brought my own. I doubt he is here. I don’t see his car. These gates are pretty straightforward.’’

  ‘‘What about the house?’’ asked Diane. ‘‘How are we going to get in?’’

  Colin grinned. ‘‘This house used to belong to a cli ent of mine. He gave me a key to one of the side doors that Spence probably didn’t get around to changing the locks on.’’

  ‘‘Which door is it?’’ Diane looked at her floor plan.

  ‘‘To the basement, around back. It’s not on the drawings I gave you,’’ he said.

  Diane stopped in the middle of the circular drive to get a good look at the house. All the curtains were drawn. Bryce said they had left things as they were, but she didn’t know if they really had. Like Colin, she was dubious. There was no shrubbery near the win dows, no place an intruder might hide. The windows were all closed. She wouldn’t be able to tell until she got into the house whether they were locked. She looked at the second-story windows. They were closed as well.

  ‘‘You’d need a ladder to get to the second floor,’’ said Colin. He stood beside Diane with his hands in his pockets, looking at the house.

  Diane glanced over the rough stone exterior. ‘‘A rock climber could do it,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Really?’’ said Colin. ‘‘A rock climber could climb up that wall—with no trees or ledges to grab on to?’’

  ‘‘Sure. My geology curator could climb the face of the museum,’’ she said.

  ‘‘The museum? Really? People can actually do things like that?’’ he asked.

  Diane nodded. ‘‘Mike is among an elite group who can do very difficult climbs. But this house wouldn’t be that hard. I could do it.’’

  ‘‘You could? Amazing. I had no idea. That’s so Spider-Man.’’

  ‘‘I can’t spin a web,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Glad to hear it. I was starting to feel inferior,’’ he said. ‘‘So, if one of the upper windows was unlocked, a skilled rock climber wouldn’t find it too difficult to climb up and get in the window?’’

  ‘‘That’s true,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Or a second-story man. You know, don’t you, there is a class of burglars who specialize in that MO.’’

  Colin looked around. ‘‘I don’t see any sign of Peeks,’’ he said. ‘‘He probably thinks he’s letting us cool our heels waiting for him. So, shall we go find our basement door?’’

  ‘‘We could try knocking on the front door first,’’ Diane said. She started toward the door. ‘‘I think it’s open.’’ There was a small crack where the door stood open about an inch. ‘‘I think we’ve maligned Mr. Peeks unnecessarily and he’s probably been listening, snickering at our paranoia.’’

  Colin laughed. ‘‘I hope so.’’

  Diane opened the door and walked into the foyer. The first thing she saw was Garnett kneeling on the marble floor next to the body of Chief of Police Edgar Peeks.

  Chapter 18

  The second thing Diane noticed was the pool of bright red blood staining the white marble floor. A small trickle of blood had flowed toward the wall. For such an expensive house it was surprising that the floor wasn’t completely level.

  They stood there for a moment staring at one an other before anyone said anything.

  ‘‘I guess Peeks showed up after all,’’ said Colin.

  Garnett slowly stood up. ‘‘I called the police,’’ he said.

  Diane just then heard the distant sirens.

  ‘‘I know this doesn’t look good,’’ said Garnett.

  ‘‘What happened?’’ she said.

  ‘‘We can discuss that later,’’ said Colin.

  Always the lawyer, thought Diane. Colin doesn’t want me to hear anything just yet.

  ‘‘I found him like this,’’ said Garnett. He wanted to profess his innocence. Natural reaction—guilty or not.

  Diane’s gaze darted around the foyer. They were standing at the base of a winding staircase that led to the second floor. To the left, the room that was la beled PARLOR on her drawings looked to be a study— all dark wood and leather. The desk was covered with papers, and the wood filing cabinet was open. Several books were piled on chairs.

  From where Diane stood, she could see into the living room. The drapes covered the windows and French doors. She saw no bloody footprints on the white marble. Too bad. Nothing’s ever easy.

  ‘‘Did you see anyone else?’’ asked Diane. ‘‘When did you get here?’’

  ‘‘Just a few minutes ago. And no, I didn’t see any one else,’’ said Garnett.

  ‘‘Why are you here?’’ asked Diane.

  ‘‘Colin told me to come,’’ he said.

  Colin looked startled. ‘‘No, I didn’t.’’

  ‘‘Your secretary sent me a text message to meet you here,’’ Garnett said. ‘‘On my cell phone.’’

  ‘‘My secretary doesn’t text. She’s against it,’’ said Colin. ‘‘Inexorably.’’

  Diane frowned at Garnett. ‘‘Shouldn’t you be too experienced to fall for this?’’ she said. ‘‘Obviously someone set you up. Why didn’t you call Colin or me before you came?’’

  ‘‘I’m ashamed to say, it didn’t occur to me. I knew you were coming. I thought you wanted me to walk you through my visit here the other night,’’ said Garnett.

  ‘‘How did you get here?’’ said Diane. ‘‘Where’s your car? Where’s Peeks’ car?’’

  There were so many questions running through her mind, and she wanted to get answers to most of them before the police arrived. But the sirens were getting louder.

  ‘‘The back way. That’s what the text said. It said, ‘Front locked, use back.’ My car’s parked behind Peeks’. His is in the small garage. Mine’s right be hind it.’’

  ‘‘No other cars?’’ asked Diane. She noticed Colin wasn’t stopping her. Probably decided the questions might be useful.

  ‘‘None,’’ he said.

  ‘‘This isn’t good,’’ said Diane. ‘‘How did you get in the house?’’

  ‘‘Through the garage into the kitchen. I called out. When no one answered, I came to open the front door for you to get in when you arrived. This is what I found.’’

  ‘‘The door was cracked a bit; did you do that?’’ she asked.

  Garnett shook his head. ‘‘No. I stopped here when I found him.’’

  Diane took a quick look at the body. He lay face down with one arm out to the side and the other one under his torso.

  ‘‘I’m going to see if he’s dead,’’ she said.

  Diane knew he was dead, but she wanted to touch the body to see how long, and she wanted all of them to be able to state a reason when the police asked if they touched the body.

  It was warm. Peeks hadn’t been dead long.

  He wore a suit, good quality, and as far as she could tell with him sprawled out on the floor, it fit. She gently lifted his coat to see if his gun was there. It was. She saw the holster for his cell phone. It was empty. She wondered if he had it in his hand under his body.

  Diane gently replaced the edge of his suit coat in its former position. She stood up and glanced at the corner of a fruitwood hall chest on which there sat a bust of Alexander the Great. Didn’t need Freud to figure that one out. The chest had fingerprint dust on one corner near the bust.

 
She wanted to go through the house, particularly the kitchen, but the house was a crime scene—again— and she knew better than to contaminate it. But she was tempted. Colin and Garnett stood quietly looking at her. She imagined they could read her mind, and she wasn’t sure they would stop her if she decided to go through the house. But she didn’t. It was a crime scene.

  ‘‘Did you hear anything at all?’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Nothing at all,’’ he said.

  Diane heard sirens draw close, then abruptly stop. They were here. She turned to Colin. ‘‘When it’s re leased again, I want to go through the house.’’

  He nodded. They waited as the police came through the door. The first person in was Curtis Crabtree. Diane guessed he was playing detective today. Behind him was Janice Warrick. Partly good, thought Diane. Janice was a friend of Garnett’s. Shane Eastling, the medical examiner, walked in behind them, then Lloyd Bryce and Rikki Gillinick.