The Dying Room: A Faces of Evil Novel

by Webb, Debra

  Her cell burst into the old-fashioned ring tone she hated. She hesitated on the upstairs landing and dug in her bag for it. One of these days she was going to change that annoying sound to something more pleasant. The only reason she’d kept it this long was because it was so different from everyone else’s. No one wanted it, which made Jess’s ring tone unique in an irritating sort of way.

  Dan calling.

  She smiled as she answered the call from her husband. It still warmed her to think of Dan as her husband. They’d been in love since high school, and then spent two decades apart before finding each other again.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey to you, too,” Dan replied. “Are you feeling better?”

  The lower backache that started last night just wouldn’t go away. It wasn’t unusual at this stage of pregnancy, just annoying. “I feel a little better now that I’m moving around.”

  Lori went through the upstairs rooms a second time. She wouldn’t go back down the stairs again until Jess was ready to do the same. Her team took extra good care of her. These days Jess sincerely appreciated the extra backup.

  “You should be taking it easy, Jess. The doctor said—”

  “I know what the doctor said,” Jess caught herself and added, “sweetheart.” Dan was only trying to help. “I’m fine. If I need to sit down, I will.” She would be taking enough time off work in the coming months. No need to start now.

  “I’m certain you will,” Dan replied patiently. “What’re we looking at?”

  “Same MO as the Rutledge homicide.” Jess knew Dan would have preferred to come to the scene personally, but his attorney had advised him to steer clear of anything related to the former mayor until his case was adjudicated. Then again, she supposed the Pratt case was closed as of now anyway. “No indications of forced entry. No readily discernible cause of death. He was home alone. The front and rear doors were unlocked. The ME isn’t here yet, but I would estimate that Pratt’s been dead seven or so hours.”

  “I’d like to hear more frequent updates on this one, Jess. Have Detective Wells keep me in the communications loop. We may have a vigilante out there who’s targeting persons he feels wrongly wielded the power of their positions.”

  Jess had a very bad feeling that was exactly what they were looking at. Though Pratt’s misdeeds were a matter of public record now, Rutledge had never been accused of wrongdoing. The killer could decide to target any public figure whose actions he perceived as wrong, making Dan and numerous others potential targets.

  At this point, revenge was the only viable motive. Lori had learned from Rutledge’s private physician that he had recently been prescribed Viagra to help protect against heart issues related to the Doxorubicin prescribed for his prostate cancer. So a scorned lover or escort appeared to be off the table.

  “I’ll make sure you’re kept in the loop,” Jess promised as she smoothed a hand over her belly. “You just watch your back. We don’t know this killer’s ultimate objective.”

  “I’ll call a briefing with the folks who might be potential targets. For now, I don’t see any point in suggesting a serial killer or a mass murderer to the media. Let’s make absolutely certain these two homicides are connected first.”

  “Will do,” she promised.

  “Be safe, Jess.”

  “You, too.”

  As Jess dropped her phone back into her bag, the front door opened. Sylvia stepped into the entry hall and looked around before a forensic tech showed her to the body. Maybe it was her imagination, but to Jess her friend looked harried and shaken. Jess wished she would share whatever was going on with her. Being so visibly off her game was completely out of character for the brash, tough as nails deputy coroner. Maybe her distraction had something to do with Buddy. Jess’s old friend had confessed to Dan that he had a thing for Sylvia. Jess still found the idea surprising. When and how had that happened? Talk about opposites attract.

  Before Jess reached for the railing and started down the stairs, Lori was at her side. “I didn’t find his car keys.”

  Pratt’s keys were nowhere to be found, which was odd since his car was in the driveway rather than the garage. The man was on house arrest. “Have another look around downstairs,” Jess suggested. “As soon as Sylvia gives the okay, check his trouser pockets a little more closely.”

  “On it.” Lori took the final step down and set to the task.

  Finding the keys was relevant in terms of determining whether or not Pratt had possession of them when the killer entered his home. Jess leaned toward the theory that the victim knew his killer. Breaking and entering likely hadn’t been necessary. Jess headed for the study. Sylvia had already begun the process of determining approximate time of death. The small incision below the ribcage allowed her access to the liver. Liver temperature was an incredibly accurate way to gauge time of death.

  Despite her harried demeanor when she’d arrived, Sylvia was dressed impeccably. The lavender skirt and jacket were no doubt tailor made for her tall, slender figure. The matching high heels made Jess regret having given hers up months ago. Oh well, she had other priorities now.

  “Time of death was between two and four this morning,” Sylvia announced. She looked at Jess and presented a weak effort at a smile. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” Jess fished out her notepad and pencil and jotted down the information. “You look especially nice this morning.” The lavender was a good color on Sylvia.

  “I have a business lunch,” Sylvia said, playing off the compliment.

  The truth was, Sylvia always looked nice. It was the distracted expression she wore and the atypical sense of being in a rush that were so out of place.

  “We should have lunch soon,” Jess suggested. “I’d like to plan a baby shower for Lori. I could use your help.”

  “Sure.” Sylvia focused her full attention on the body.

  “I’ll call Gina and figure out a good time.”

  Sylvia made an agreeable sound without looking Jess’s way again.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Jess headed back to the entry hall.

  Whatever was eating at Sylvia she had no intention of sharing it—at least not right now. Life was so much simpler when Jess had been too focused on her career to have real friends. Maybe she’d demand an explanation from Buddy.

  “The keys weren’t in his pockets,” Lori announced as she joined Jess.

  “Let’s find out what time the attorney will be free.” Jess had a long list of questions for him though she was confident he wasn’t their killer.

  “Hayes called. He said the wife is particularly upset because she and Pratt had exchanged heated words over dinner last night regarding the divorce settlement. Otherwise, she had no idea who might have wanted to do anything like this.”

  Jess felt for the poor woman. Losing a loved one—even an estranged one—with hurtful words as the final exchange made the loss even more painful. Whether it was the pregnancy or just the fact that she was getting older, Jess had spent a lot of time thinking about her relationships lately. She and Aunt Wanda had made amends after a lifetime of estrangement. The most surprising part was that Jess had come to see that she actually liked Wanda.

  Life was full of surprises.

  Joe Pratt had faced a startling one last night. No matter how powerful a man thought he was and how many friends he thought he had, the past always caught up with him and it was rarely pretty.

  Chapter 15

  The Book Shop

  23rd and 10th Terrace South, Noon

  “Thanks, DeeAnn.” Buddy held up the book he’d just paid sixty bucks for and gave the bookstore owner a wink. He’d come to the bookstore as soon as he’d gotten DeeAnn’s call.

  DeeAnn Garner owned and operated The Book Shop, a bookstore that offered a few extra services like providing communications options for those who didn’t want to leave a paper or electronic trail. Besides being the owner of the shop, DeeAnn was one damned fine woman. Buddy liked her, b
ut lately he’d been too hung up on another woman who was so far out of his league he had no chance in hell of catching up. Sure, he could light her fire easy enough, but making a woman happy between the sheets was way different than pleasing her on an intellectual level. Or, in this case, even on a social level. What the hell was he doing falling for a rich chick—a senator’s daughter at that. Jesus Christ. A damned medical examiner. Buddy groaned inwardly. He was so screwed.

  Oblivious to his dilemma, DeeAnn blushed. “My pleasure, Buddy. Just let me know if you need anything else.”

  He heaved a big old sigh. Why hadn’t he played it smart and set his sights on this sweet, prim little blonde? Cause you’re an idiot, Corlew. “Sure thing, doll.”

  DeeAnn giggled as Buddy walked away. He waited until he was out of the store and in his Charger before he thumbed through the book. The note, addressed to #10—his secret ID number—was tucked neatly in the center of the paperback copy of Little Women.

  Let’s have a beer. I got what you need.

  “That didn’t take you long,” Buddy muttered. He’d asked a good friend to look into the adoption of Sylvia’s daughter. Since the legal proceedings had taken place more than two decades ago and in another state, he’d needed an assist. His friend had the right kind of connections.

  No private investigator knew it all or could handle it all, but the best PIs found and maintained the right contacts. Contacts were key in this business. Buddy had cultivated a number of contacts during his days in the BPD. The more important ones he’d discovered in this gig. A good PI couldn’t always be a good guy. Sometimes his work required crossing certain lines, like the one he’d had a contact bulldoze right over to find Sylvia’s daughter.

  “That’s why you get the big bucks,” he grumbled as he slowly backed out of the parking spot and drove just around the corner to his favorite watering hole.

  The Garage Café was a vintage joint with a rustic vibe. Buddy was a regular so he knew the people behind the counter. Trust was another essential element in his business. He trusted the folks who operated The Garage. So did several of his contacts.

  Buddy spotted the one he was meeting today. He slid onto the stool next to him. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”

  “I ordered you a cheeseburger.” Rob Johns jerked his head toward the kitchen. “It’s lunch time, you know. You don’t eat, you can’t do your best work.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Buddy hitched his head toward the bartender, and then turned to Rob. “Tell it to your kids.”

  Rob grinned. “Everyday, man. Everyday. I got three in school, you know.”

  Buddy grunted. He didn’t see how the guy kept his sanity with three kids. The bartender, Casey, left a Corona in front of Buddy. He took a swig before asking, “So, what’s the lowdown out in Cali?”

  Rob shrugged and reached for his beer. “I got the 411 on your college girl, only she ain’t no college girl anymore. She graduated early. Evidently she’s some sort of brainiac.”

  Buddy didn’t see a file or a briefcase or any damned thing else he might be carrying a report in. What he had spotted was an attitude he recognized all too well. “What’s your bump in price? I don’t have all day. I have stuff to do.”

  “I figure a rich client’s kid is worth double the usual run of the mill offspring. You got an issue with a price adjustment, or maybe a nice tip?”

  Buddy laughed. “Nah. I would’ve done the same thing. In fact...” He took a long draw from the bottle and made a satisfied sound. “I was thinking though, about those photos your ex hired me to take of you when you were cheating on her.”

  Rob’s eyes narrowed. “You trying to blackmail me, Corlew?”

  Buddy shook his head. “No way, man. I’m just showing you how things can have a different value under the right circumstances. I didn’t charge you for taking those extra kinky pics out of the mix.”

  “She still sued me for divorce,” Rob argued. “What’s your point?”

  “My point is, I know a city councilman who could make your life hell if he found out you’d screwed around with his wife. Especially in some of those positions.” Buddy grinned. “I didn’t charge you a dime for keeping your fat out of the fire.”

  Rob waved him off. “Man, that was two years ago. What’re you doing bringing up the past?”

  “Sometimes we need to remember the past so we know the right way to go in the future.” Buddy was a fine one to be spouting advice. As true as that was, he wasn’t about to be taken to the cleaners by this guy. It wasn’t as much about the money as it was about making sure he didn’t get any ideas about the future potential of the info he now possessed. Protecting Sylvia was too important to let this guy get a whiff of fear.

  Rob grinned. “I guess you got a point. Let’s enjoy our lunch while I fill you in and we’ll settle up afterwards.”

  “Works for me.”

  On cue the bartender dropped two plates loaded with cheeseburgers and fries on the counter in front of them.

  After downing a few bites, Rob started talking. “Finding the people who adopted her was easy. I tracked down the private service your client used first, and then I located a retired file clerk. It cost me five G’s to get her to give me the name.”

  “Reasonable under the circumstances,” Buddy allowed.

  Rob tore off another bite of his burger. Buddy did the same, his patience thinning a little. He’d never known the guy to beat around the bush, but he was damned sure doing exactly that today.

  “The young lady graduated from UCLA. She’s a nurse. Graduated at the very top of her class. Some of the Facebook posts from her friends suggested she could have done anything she chose. Her friends were all complaining that she didn’t continue on to med school with them. Evidently, she dropped pre-med and switched to nursing at the end of her second year in college.”

  “I guess she just decided she didn’t want to be a doctor. So what about the couple who adopted her?” Buddy hoped the kid had lived a happy life so far and had been treated well. Sylvia already punished herself enough for giving the kid up. He could imagine how she would suffer if her daughter had been treated badly.

  “Rich folks. In their early fifties when they adopted her. The father was a heart surgeon. The mother was a pediatric surgeon.”

  “Was?” Buddy frowned. “Both parents are deceased?”

  Rob nodded. “The father had a heart attack. The wife had a heart attack trying to save him. They both died right there in their living room and the daughter found them.”

  “Damn.” He shook his head.

  “Hell of a thing,” Rob agreed. “Bad for the kid. That was a couple years ago, around the same time she changed her career path. I looked back a few years on her Facebook. It seemed like her parents were not only in a stressful field but they were involved in all kinds of humanitarian work. They went to foreign countries and helped the needy rather than take vacations. The kid worked right alongside them until she went off to college. The parents retired five years ago and had been spending a lot more time overseas.”

  “Sounds like a hardworking family.”

  “Maybe too hard,” Rob said. “Sounds like a lot of stress to me. Maybe the kid decided she didn’t want that much stress in her life.”

  “Maybe so.” Buddy knew how it felt to hold another person’s life in his hands. Though he’d never had to take anyone’s life when he was a cop, he’d come close. Those few seconds had felt like an eternity. Trying to save someone’s life would be a similar desperation. Doctors, especially surgeons, he supposed, faced intense situations every day. In recent years going overseas, even to serve the communities there, could be a dangerous business. “Kid still living in Cali?”

  Rob downed the last of his fries. “That’s where things get interesting. As soon as she graduated, she closed up the family home place in Sacramento and took off.”

  “Did you find her current address?” Buddy found himself holding his breath... for Sylvia.

  “T
his is the part you’re not going to believe.”

  Buddy shook his head. “If you tell me the kid is dead—”

  “No. No.” Rob held up a hand. “She’s here.”

  Another of those deep frowns furrowed Buddy’s face. “In Birmingham?”

  Rob moved his head up and down in a slow, firm nod. “She hired a West Coast PI and tracked down her biological mother. Whoever the dad is, she didn’t find him, but she knows who your client is, Corlew. She’s been watching her for the past two months. She works at UAB Hospital.”

  A new kind of tension stirred in Buddy. He tossed payment for their lunch on the counter. “I’m ready to settle up now.”

  Rob tossed back the last of his beer. He followed Buddy outside, retrieved the file and his itemized bill from his car, and handed both over to Buddy.

  “This—minus the price bump—will be in your bank account before the end of the day,” Buddy assured him.

  “Nice doing business with you.” Before climbing behind the steering wheel of his sedan, Rob added, “I want those pics burned or shredded.”

  Buddy waved him off. “Consider it done.”

  When he’d dropped behind the wheel of his Charger and had the doors closed and locked, Buddy opened the large envelope that held Rob’s reports and the photos he’d taken. He scanned the summary report. Buddy wouldn’t deny being grateful finding the girl had been this easy. The problem was, any time something was this easy there was trouble.

  If Miss Addison Devers wanted to know her biological mother, why not talk to her after she’d found her? Buddy could understand some amount of uncertainty, but this went way beyond simply taking some time to take stock or to shore up her courage. This was almost stalking. Had she been following Sylvia around? Buddy studied the photo of Addison. She was a heartbreaker just like her mother. The girl—young woman—could be a runway model. She had the same long legs and killer figure her mother had. Her hair was a darker brown, almost black, and the eyes were different. Addison’s were a cool gray.