by Alec Peche
As usual, Jill awoke before Nathan. Sipping her cup of coffee, she checked her e-mail to see if any new information had come in while she was asleep. The only new piece of information was from her pathology associate Dr. Johnson. Dr. Johnson had been able to re-create the contents of the vial and the ointment tube contaminated with bacteria. As she represented an academic medical center, she was able to order a preparation of the same bacterial strain that had caused Graeme's infection from a laboratory supplier. She then explored the conditions required for the bacteria to grow in the same manner as it had with Graeme.
While the bacteria itself was fairly hardy, the growth pattern was unstable inside the ointment and the vial. Dr. Johnson speculated that Graeme St. Louis would have easily recovered from the leg infection as the potency of the bacteria was much weaker inside the tainted ointment. It simply did not like to grow onto petroleum based product. There wasn't much to nourish its growth. The vial, on the other hand, was very potent with bacteria. It had been mixed in a sugar solution and maintained at an appropriate temperature, which would have maximized the bacteria's growth. An injection of the bacterial solution would give anyone a raging infection.
So now Jill knew technically how it could be done. Her associate had figured out how to turn bacteria into the murder weapon. She had also clearly proven that whoever had created the solution was an expert in microbiology. A recipe was not readily available to download off the Internet. It required special skills and special equipment. So had the person who had created the vial created it recently to kill Graeme, or had the technique been perfected several years ago and the person had just waited for the right target? Was it a hired killer? Since she still didn't know why Graeme was murdered, she could not speculate on the microbiology background of his killer. She forwarded Dr. Johnson’s e-mail to Detective Carlson and the San Francisco medical examiner for their records.
Jill had just started to work on the 200 cases from last night when Nathan joined her.
“Would you like some coffee?"
“Yeah.”
Jill had learned that he was a man of few words prior to that first cup of coffee. She grabbed a coffee cup filled it with coffee and cream, and handed it to him.
"Would you like breakfast? Maybe some waffles?"
"Yeah, thanks."
Jill gathered the ingredients for the waffles, and found the waffle maker. She was deliberately slow about making breakfast knowing that Nathan needed at least 15 minutes to feel that first surge of caffeine in his system. It was not easy for a morning person like herself to stay quiet and calm until Nathan had reached her level of wakefulness. Forty-five minutes later, the caffeine and the sugar from the maple syrup had kicked in, and he was fully coherent. He walked to the sink, fencing her in for a good-morning kiss. He tasted like maple syrup. Given that he had slept light enough to hear the intruder a few nights ago, she considered his morning grogginess a small price to pay.
"I planned to continue my research of Graeme's clients searching for possible motives. I went through about 30 cases last night and nothing popped. I'll be slogging away with my laptop all morning. How badly is staying here affecting your business? I know that this has been a huge disruption to be away from your studio."
"I'm doing okay with my business. I'm keeping up with my customers through e-mail and my cell phone. I'm updating a label for a long-standing client. After I take Trixie out for some exercise, I'll keep you company by getting some of my own work done.”
He didn’t say that the attempts on her life were a far bigger distraction than having to relocate his studio to her house.
Jill felt like a prisoner in her own home. The only thing that kept her sane was the knowledge that this was a short-term change in her lifestyle. Once the killer was identified and arrested, she could go back to her former life. Jill settled into the sofa with her laptop and went to work on her list of 200 clients. In the back of her mind she suspected that this was a wild goose chase, but she really needed to eliminate some of the clients.
Nathan returned with Trixie and began to work on a design. His highly sensitive computer-aided design software gave him infinite variations on a theme. Intellectually he had found that updating an existing label was more difficult than creating one from scratch. Depending on the winery, changing the label equaled changing the brand. Winery owners generally had a fair amount of trepidation when changing their branding.
They worked quietly on their respective projects for several hours. Jill's spreadsheet was taking shape but nothing had leaped out at her of the (someone named in a legal case who was so mad that it would be worth murdering Graeme) variety. Jill went to another room to conduct her scheduled phone call with Emma. The last thing she wanted to do was further disturb Nathan's ability to work at her house.
"Emma, do you know why Graeme chose the firm where he practiced?"
"We talked of many things, but I don't remember him ever mentioning why he chose that firm. It was close to his house, but he joined the firm before he bought the house."
"Overall, was he happy at work? Did he ever mention that he disagreed with a senior partner’s decision-making?"
"He never really had a negative thing to say about work."
"What about his clients? Did he get along with all of them? Did he ever mention to you any problem that he had with a client? Did he have any kind of ethical concern or other unpleasantness with a client?"
Emma paused for a while on the telephone and thought back over the numerous conversations she had had with Graeme. He very rarely spoke of his clients. Sure, he often read or did some paperwork at night, but it didn't consume his time outside of the office. He was also bound by the attorney/client privilege with all of his clients.
"Jill, let me think about this some more, but off the top of my head I can't remember a client that significantly upset Graeme."
Jill went on to review Dr. Johnson's research into the microbiology world and how the infection could have been spread to Graeme. Then she updated Emma on the work that she and her associates were doing. They scheduled the next call and said their goodbyes.
While she talked to Emma, Detective Carlson called Jill and left a voice-mail.
After listening to the voice-mail, Jill called the detective.
"I understand that you had some questions about Dr. Johnson's findings."
"Yeah, I did. I also wanted to update you on information I received from the San Juan police. It seems that hikers stumbled upon a body in the rain forest. Police identified the victim as Luis Gonzales. His throat had been slit, and given that his body was in the rain forest, insects and other animals had gone to work on him. However, his fingerprints were intact, and that was how he was identified. A police artist reconstructed his facial profile from his remains. That sketch was shown to the scuba diving company, and a representative of the company positively confirmed that he was the gentleman that it had employed and who used the name Luis Gonzales.”
Jill asked, "So that was his real name?"
"Yes. When the San Juan police department ran a criminal check on Luis Gonzales, it found that he rarely used an alias. He had been suspected of several crimes but had never been convicted. He had 3 aliases, none of which he used in this current case. Interestingly, one of the other crimes that he was alleged to have committed early in his career was impersonating a scuba diving instructor and stealing the personal belongings of the divers aboard the boats he was working on."
Jill had not liked Gonzales, but she would not have wished that particular demise on him. It also increased her anxiety level, as there were now 2 murders associated with her current case. That, of course, was in addition to the 2 attempts on her life.
"Wow! From my perspective that's very bad news. It means that whomever the killer is in this case is willing to shut down the case and anyone involved with it by any means. Detective, do you have a sense as to whether this is a single person, or do you think he or she hired someone to make the attempts on m
y life and to kill Gonzales?”
"As Gonzales is alleged to have been contracted to harm Graeme on board the scuba diving boat, I think it's safe to assume that the killer is more than willing to hire out his work. This is a very complex case between the science behind the murder and the fact that it is occurring in several jurisdictions. We may need to enlist the aid of the FBI. I'll be running that by my Lieutenant in an hour, and I suspect that he will require that we bring the FBI into the case."
Just then, a window in the room where Jill was cracked. Her hair swayed from a bullet that passed far too close to her head and lodged in the opposite wall. Jill hit the floor, ducking any additional bullets.
"What the heck! Detective Carlson, call 911. I'm being shot at!”
Jill yelled down the hallway from her position on the floor, "Nathan, take cover. Someone is shooting at me.”
She felt like a crazed woman at that moment. Seconds before she had bent down to re-tie her shoelaces, and that had saved her life. She wiggled out of the room on her belly, while Nathan crawled toward her when they both heard another window crack. Once they were in the hallway, they were out of the way of any more flying bullets. She heard Detective Carlson distantly on the phone and reached up and placed it to her ear.
"Jill, the Sheriff has an ETA of 3 minutes. Additional officers and the K-9 unit will be there in 7. What's your status?”
"I'm fine and Nathan is fine. The bullet missed. I bent over to re-tie my shoelaces just as a gun fired at me from outside."
Then she heard 2 sounds simultaneously. Just as she felt comfort in hearing the wail of a distant siren, she heard the crack of glass again in the room that she had just left. She peered around the corner of the doorway and saw that something burning had been tossed into the room.
"Nathan, I keep a fire extinguisher under the kitchen sink. Run and grab it!"
"Detective, please request a fire truck for this location. Something burning was just tossed into the house. Nathan's getting a fire extinguisher to put it out."
"Jill, stay out of the room and take cover, it may explode."
Jill looked behind her as Nathan returned with the fire extinguisher. She put her hand up, gesturing for him to halt. Just as he stopped they heard an explosion in the room. The Sheriff had arrived in her driveway and grabbed 2 fire extinguishers from the trunk of the patrol car and ran into the house. Nathan sprayed the fire with Jill's small kitchen extinguisher. She ran into the guest bathroom, turned the trash can upside down dumped its contents on the floor, filled it with water, and ran back to the burning room. She and the others fought the fire with 3 fire extinguishers and a few trash cans of water. The fire was nearly extinguished as the fire truck arrived. She had long ago hung up on Detective Carlson.
Chapter 15
"I am so done with this homicidal maniac!" exclaimed Jill.
She sat there wondering what had happened to her quiet life of growing grapes, creating the perfect bottle of Moscato, and leisurely giving an occasional second opinion on a cause of death. She'd run her hands through her hair, but she couldn't remember any fashion magazine claim that charcoal and smoke were good for one's hair and skin. She was dying to take a shower, but that would have to wait. The Sheriff was in the house. Nathan, Trixie, and Arthur were safe. Detective Carlson, her superior, and the FBI were on their way and expected to arrive within the hour.
Both Jill and Nathan gave their statements about what had happened. They had repeated their story over the phone for an agent of the FBI. The Sheriff's K-9 unit was presently outside following the trail of the killer. The fire department had told her that she was lucky. The damage was contained to the original room into which the Molotov cocktail had been thrown. And yes, the incendiary device had been confirmed. She would need to replace the drywall, the carpet, the drapes, and the contents of the room. Thankfully, because of quick action, the fire had not spread.
Jill felt like she was on the verge of a complete meltdown. She needed to feel human again and that meant a shower and clean clothes. Unfortunately, her bedroom and bath had outside windows. She had Nathan do another belly-crawl to her dresser and her closet to get her some clean clothes. Then she used her guest bathroom to clean up with the Sheriff standing guard.
The last 60 minutes had been very action-packed. Fresh clothes and the shower made Jill feel like a new woman. It was past lunchtime, and suddenly she felt like could eat an entire chicken. The adrenaline rush had left her starving. She eyed Nathan to see how he was holding up. He appeared cool, calm, and collected. So she asked him if he could cook for them and the contingent of law enforcement. He readily agreed and gathered the ingredients for a hearty meal.
Nathan had just put the finishing touches on spaghetti with meatballs, sourdough bread, and a tossed salad. Just as they sat down to eat, Detective Carlson, her Lieutenant and a member of the FBI arrived at Jill's house. As Jill was unwilling to be interviewed before consuming her lunch, the latest arrivals joined them at the table for Nathan's excellently-prepared meal.
As they were finishing lunch, the officer returned with the K-9 dog.
“The same shell casings found are the same as the last time. The dog was able to track the shooter, and he parked in a different area than he did before. He brought a second Molotov cocktail that he left in the bushes.”
The police officer would dust for fingerprints, but he doubted that it would be that easy. To launch the cocktail into the house, the killer had to get fairly close. The dog was able to scent him within 30 feet of the house. Jill called her security company to come out to her house immediately since it appeared, her new system had failed to detect an intruder.
The Sheriff got ready to depart Jill's house. There was nothing more that he could do here, and he was looking forward to receiving direction from the FBI about how to handle the situation. Someone from the SFPD and the FBI sat down with Jill for a long conversation concerning Graeme’s death. Jill went over to her laptop and printed the report that she had originally provided to the San Francisco medical examiner to convince him to change the cause of death to homicide.
Jill escorted the group out to her lab. With a little help from her analyzers, she provided a fascinating explanation of how she figured out that the bacteria had been injected into Graeme. Once everyone nodded that they understood her thought process, she moved on to the other incidents. With Nathan's help, she described the mess in the lab and what it had done to her testing process.
She moved on to the intruder in her house. Nathan described the car that had followed them to San Francisco. Jill spoke of the incident at the harbor in Puerto Rico. Next she described the shooter that had aimed at her 2 days ago and finally today's shooting and incendiary device as they returned to her house. It had been a really ghastly week when she connected all the happenings together. She shivered. She was lucky to be alive.
"What’s next? How do I get additional security?"
Leticia Ortiz, agent in charge of the San Francisco office of the FBI, responded, "Ma'am, we will keep you safe, don’t you worry. What we really need to do is solve Graeme St. Louis's murder. Obviously that's the best way to protect you. If you'll share with us what you and your friends have done to try to solve this murder, we'll take it from there."
“Excuse me?”
Agent Ortiz repeated her same inane statement about Jill’s security.
Jill felt like the Molotov cocktail that had been tossed into her house. Nathan had been leaning against the kitchen counter watching Jill. He was looking forward to watching the fireworks when she exploded. He knew her well enough to know that she would have no time for Agent Ortiz’s condescension about her case-solving skills. The agent had made it sound like some women’s baking club was attempting to solve the murder.
"Protect me? Really, where have any of you been for the past week? Does one law enforcement agency not talk to another? Why should I trust you to guard me? I’m not some amateur Sherlock Holmes. I spent 15 years at the county crime la
b as a forensic pathologist. I have used those same skills as a private consultant to solve cases for the past 5 years. Have any of you bothered to fly to Puerto Rico? No! How much time have you put in to investigating Luis Gonzales? Emma Spencer hired me and she can cancel my contract at any time, as is her right. Even if she did cancel my contract, my team and I would continue with our investigation because of the personal turn it has taken. Is that clear? My team makes my personal safety its top priority. You buffoons needed a Molotov cocktail to get you to take notice of this case."
Jill really wanted these people out of her house. She was so mad! She felt she needed a Hapkido session with Nathan to expend her frustration and fear. And then, she wanted to get back to work on evaluating Graeme's legal cases. She knew she might be overreacting, but with an assassin on her trail, she thought she was entitled to a few tantrums. She met Nathan’s eyes. He had quietly watched the interaction.
"Nathan, please show the agent out. I need to get back to work. I've got a case to solve.”
Both Detective Carlson and Agent Ortiz tried to placate Jill.
"Dr. Quint, as you have so summarily stated, you need additional security. We can't leave at this point. Being bombed by a Molotov cocktail is a violation of federal law pertaining to attempted arson and possession of a destructive device. For that reason alone, we will conduct an investigation, responded Agent Ortiz.
“We will arrange for your protection. In the meantime, we need to interview you in detail about the research you have completed on this case, and we can't do that if you're dead. I don't think you're an idiot, and you're right that we have been slow to come onto this case. I apologize for the delay. We are involved now, and we plan to keep you safe. Let's start this relationship over and move on from here."
Since Jill was quite worried for her own safety and her temper had fizzled out, she was keen to have the protection.
"I have plans to live to be a 103 years old. I very much need someone's help at this time in order for me to make my 100th birthday cruise. I'm game to start this relationship over if you are."