Virginia lowered her chin and looked at Becky through her upper lashes. “What machine?”
“I don’t remember. What does it matter? I’m telling you, Corey was an exceedingly gentle man.”
Becky pushed off the ground to give momentum to the swing before dragging her feet on the ground to end it. “This swing set was left here by the previous owners. I asked Corey several times to take it down, had it on his list of chores ever since we moved in two years ago, but he somehow never got around to it. I think he secretly hoped we’d have children someday and be glad it was here.” A tear dripped down her cheek as she slipped out of the swing and plodded over to an object on the ground. “You might want to get up.”
Virginia pulled herself out of the swing. “What are you doing?”
Becky picked up the sixteen-pound sledgehammer by its hickory handle, stumbling as she adjusted to the weight. Holding the head up to about her waist, she spun around in a complete circle before hammering one of the swing’s support posts.
“Becky?”
The widow continued with her task until the post buckled, at which point, her knees did the same.
In an examination room of the Knox County’s Regional Forensic Center, Cathy Shaw pushed a corpse-laden rack into the body refrigerator and closed the door. “I have time to get an early lunch now.”
A technician entered pushing a gurney in front of him and pulling one behind him. “Cathy, I have a double homicide for you.”
The petite medical examiner’s shoulders drooped in her lab coat. “Are you serious?”
“Sorry.” The technician gave her an odd grin before leaving her alone with the sheet-covered corpses.
“No lunch today.” The nose on her vulpine face twitched as an unexpected aroma tickled her nostrils. “What is that smell?” She gave the nearer body a sniff through the sheet before moving to the other. “Smells like hamburger.” She grabbed the top of the sheet and lowered it a quarter of the way down the body.
Before she could focus on the face, the corpse spoke. “Hi Cathy.”
She screamed and backed into the other gurney. “Jeff?”
Jeff held up a bag. “We brought you lunch.”
“We?” The corpse behind her ascended like a black-and-white movie vampire’s rise from the grave. Cathy screamed again. “Emory?”
Emory pulled the sheet from his face. “Sorry Cathy. We didn’t mean to scare you. We just wanted to make sure no one else was in the room first.”
Jeff hopped off the gurney and handed her the bag. “His asshole ex-partner left Emory’s picture with the front office staff and told them to keep him out. We bribed the tech to sneak us in.”
Cathy hugged Emory. “I heard what happened. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t feel too sorry for him.” Jeff slapped his own chest. “Now he gets to work with me full-time.
“That’s true, handsome. Thank you guys for lunch and for going through so much trouble to see me.”
Emory straightened his suit. “To be honest, we had another reason for coming. Corey Melton.”
Cathy nodded toward the refrigerator. “I just finished the autopsy on him.”
“We’ve been hired by his widow to find out what happened to him. Would you mind telling us what you know?”
Cathy bit her lip. “I’ve never liked Wayne, and you know I’ve always adored you. But when the body is the subject of a police or TBI investigation, I can’t release my findings to anyone else.”
Emory frowned at her response but nodded. “I understand.”
“Now I’m going to sit over here and eat this wonderful lunch you brought me while I review my summation of that particular autopsy.”
Before sitting to eat, Cathy hit the Play button on her dictation system. Her recorded singsong voice drawled over the room’s speakers. “…had contusions, lacerations and several broken bones, including cranium, cervical discs, the right scapula and both clavicles – consistent with a head-first collision into tempered glass. The COD, however, is exsanguination through the severed carotid artery. Also of note, the victim had rope burns on the palms of both hands, where I found embedded Kevlar fibers, likely from ropes used commercially for strength and weather-resistance, such as in boating, hot air balloons, et cetera. As far as accidental or purposeful death, at this time I have to leave it as undetermined.”
Cathy turned off the recording. “This burger is just what I needed.” She turned to the guys and smiled with a twinkle in her blue eyes. “Oh, Emory and Jeff. I didn’t realize you guys were still here.”
Emory gave her a hug goodbye. “Thank you, Cathy.”
“Yeah, thank you.” Jeff gave her a hug too and looked at the door. “Damn, I didn’t think about how we’re going to get out.”
“Cathy, can you push us to the nearest exit?”
“Not two gurneys at once. Can you both get on one?”
“We can manage that.” Jeff hopped on the stainless steel surface, lying on his left side with his right arm up and ready to embrace his partner.
Emory sat on the edge of the gurney. “How are we doing this? Facing or—”
“Spooning.”
Emory reclined onto the cold steel and scooted his back against Jeff’s torso. Cathy smiled and covered them with a sheet. “Perfect. You could pass for an obese victim. Just stay still.” She hit the button to open the double doors. “Here we go.”
As she pushed them into the hallway, Emory whispered from beneath the sheet. “Cathy, is anyone around?”
“Hallway’s empty.”
Jeff asked, “Cathy, about the Kevlar fibers in Corey’s hands, could he have been hanging from a hot air balloon when he crashed through the window?”
“Maybe.”
Emory shot down the theory. “I don’t think a hot air balloon would be allowed to travel through downtown.”
“What if it got blown off course?”
“I guess it’s possible,” said Emory.
Cathy laughed. “Emory, I have to say, you’ve loosened up since you switched jobs. It looks good on you.”
Once outside, Jeff started laughing, but Emory’s mood turned glum. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I’m aggravated that I had to sneak in and out of here.”
“What’s to be aggravated about?” asked Jeff. “We got the information we came for, and we didn’t get caught.”
“People I’ve always treated kindly basically spat in my face today.”
“Those people up front? Forget about them. Cathy came through for you.”
“There are all these obstacles now. I can’t just do my job and investigate. I have to find workarounds.”
Jeff put his arm around Emory as they walked to the car. “Don’t look at these obstacles as humiliations that you didn’t have to endure when you had a badge. Look at them as cool challenges that force you to use your wits. They’ll make you an even better investigator. Embrace the fun.”
Emory clenched his jaw. I’d rather strangle it.
Jeff pointed to his car, parked in the lot adjacent to the building. “What the hell is that?”
Emory squinted at the strange figure pinned under one of the windshield wipers. “I don’t know.”
The first to reach the car, Jeff pulled the chicken-bone doll free. “It’s like the one in Corey Melton’s office.”
“And in Ms. Mary Belle’s retirement home.”
“You didn’t tell me that.” After a shrugged apology from Emory, Jeff observed, “Do you think it’s a voodoo doll?”
“Maybe an Appalachian version of one.” Emory took the doll from him.
“Did your witch do this?”
“I don’t know how. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t drive.”
Jeff opened the car door and glided into the driver seat. “Didn’t you say she lives in a retirement home.”
Emory nodded as he entered the passenger side. “A retirement home. But how would she know where we are, and how would she get here?”
�
��I’ve got a better question for you.” Jeff smirked while starting the engine. “Why would she put it on my car? You’re the cursed one.”
Chapter 12
Emory sipped from a bottle of water as he tried to keep his head from spinning. “Please tell me it’s not much further.”
From the driver seat, Jeff looked at his dashboard navigation system. “Quarter of a mile. Are you okay?”
Trying not to notice the trees buzzing by in his periphery, Emory tightened his grip on the grab handle above the passenger window. “A little dizzy and nauseous.”
“I didn’t know you got carsick.”
“I don’t. Normally.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault this place is at the end of a winding road.”
Emory retorted, “You don’t have to take each curve to the point of maximum centrifuge.”
“Are you kidding? If anything, I’m going too slow. There are at least two cars that have been behind me the whole way, so I can’t be going too fast.” Jeff nodded toward the right. “Nice view of the mountains. Concentrate on that.”
“The peaks are blurring together.”
Jeff pointed ahead. “There it is.”
Emory sighed. “Oh thank god.” Expecting to see a small hut of a building, he was surprised to find the Mountain Light Holistic Center was a complex with no less than a dozen erections of varying sizes. Gently penetrating the mini forest that surrounded it, the woody exterior of the structures blended into the environment as if carved from standing trees. “It’s a lot bigger than I thought it would be.”
Jeff pulled into a parking slot. “I heard it was big.”
The two men jumped out and headed toward the nearest building before Emory stopped to listen. “What’s that humming?”
Jeff checked his phone. “It’s not me.”
“It’s not a phone. It sounds like it’s coming from…” Emory looked up in time to see something fly over the tree line, out of sight. “What was that?”
Jeff glanced up a second after Emory. “I don’t see anything.”
“It’s gone now.”
“Let’s go then. I found a new restaurant I want to try for lunch after this.”
Emory followed him, but he checked the sky once more before they reached the large front door.
Once inside, they approached the counter, where they met a perky young woman whose demeanor revved up a couple of notches when she saw the handsome men. “Hello there. What can I do for you?”
Emory greeted her first. “Hi. We’re here to see Randy Graham.”
She glanced across the room at a tall, long-haired man wearing bright blue bike shorts and a T-shirt that revealed his hairless, vascular arms and legs. He was immersed in a conversation with a fit middle-aged woman in a yoga outfit. “He’s with a client right now. Is there anything I can help you with?”
Emory suggested, “Maybe we could speak to the owner while we wait.”
“That would be Randy,” the woman replied.
Jeff rested his forearms on the counter, brandishing a seductive smile while his sparkling green eyes glanced at her name badge. “Doreen, do you know Corey Melton?”
“Uh, sounds familiar, but I can’t picture him.”
“He suggested this place to us. Said it’s done him wonders. Could you look up what classes he takes here?”
“Let me see.” Doreen checked her computer. “Looks like he doesn’t participate in any of our classes. He does have a standing appointment for holistic counseling with Randy.” Her demeanor dampened, as if disappointed.
Jeff asked, “For acrophobia, right?”
“That’s not on here. Are you guys here for… couples counseling.”
Emory assured her, “Not at all.”
“Oh good!” Doreen perked up again and turned her attention back to Jeff. “Let me guess. You’re obviously an athlete. Maybe you’re having trouble focusing.” She gasped and threw a hand up to cover her gaping mouth. “Do you play for the Titans?” When Jeff grinned, she couldn’t contain her excitement. “What’s your name?”
“Let’s just say Jeff Woodard.”
“I understand. You don’t want to use your real name.” She pointed at Emory. “Are you a player too?”
Jeff laughed and answered for him. “He’s the coach’s assistant’s assistant. He’s here for moral support.”
“Well, Jeff, let me set up an appointment for you.” Doreen looked up the schedule on the computer. “Randy’s booked today. The earliest I have is Friday. Would that work?”
“Actually, no. I’m going to just speak to him to see if he can squeeze me in.”
“But he’s busy.”
Jeff left the counter with Emory at his side. “He’ll make time for me.” Doreen didn’t pursue them.
“Coach’s assistant’s assistant?” Emory whispered as they walked away.
“Payback for calling me a trainee yesterday.”
Emory and Jeff approached Randy and the woman and waited a few seconds for the gabbing couple to finish. Randy gave them a side-glance. “Hi guys. Marla, I’ll see you later.” He stroked the woman’s arm as she walked away.
Emory shook his hand. “Mr. Graham.”
“Randy.”
“I’m Emory Rome, and this is my partner, Jeff Woodard.”
“Cool. I’m always happy to get couples here.” Randy shook hands with Jeff and began walking. “Let me show you around. At Mountain Light Holistic Center, we have an extensive menu of offerings to meet your holistic needs.” He nodded to different doors and areas of the complex as they passed. “We offer all the essentials you’d expect – yoga, acupuncture, indoor and outdoor meditation, tai-chi, reiki, reflexology, eight types of massage. We adhere to a naturist code.”
“You’re nudists?” Jeff asked.
“No, a naturist code. It’s our version of Occam’s razor: Given a choice, the natural solution is probably the right solution.”
Jeff smirked at him. “So your legs are naturally hairless?”
Randy’s face went from salesman to aggressor in an instant, but Emory spoke before anyone could hurl a retort or a punch. “Okay, let’s stop this. We’ve had nothing but miscommunications since we got here. Mr. Graham, we’re not interested in purchasing services. We’re investigating the death of Corey Melton.”
Randy relaxed his body. “Why didn’t you say so? Such a tragedy. He was a good man, and I thought he was happy. He was working through some issues but still basically happy.”
Now that he had corrected the conversation’s course, Emory gave it a little wind for some forward momentum. “We understand he was getting counseling here.”
“Holistic counseling.” As soon as he clarified, Randy looked like he regretted it.
“What’s holistic counseling?”
“When people have issues they want to address or overcome, I counsel them using a program of healing modalities tailored to their specific needs. I help them center themselves by connecting with the world around them to find their place in it and then use visualization and meditation to overcome their psychic obstacles.”
Jeff asked Emory’s next question. “You’re a therapist?”
“You sound surprised. You should try me.” Randy handed Jeff a card. “Good for a free session.”
Jeff refused the card. “Thanks, but I don’t have any issues.”
“Everyone has issues.” Randy returned the card to his pocket.
Emory course-corrected again. “We’re aware of the acrophobia. Did Corey have other issues?”
“I’m sure you know I can’t discuss that. Patient confidentiality.”
Jeff pointed out the obvious. “He’s dead now.”
“That doesn’t change anything.”
“We’re working for his widow,” Jeff told him. “She has a right to know why he died.”
“She hired you?”
“Yes,” Jeff responded. “So any information you could give to help us would be ethically excusable.”
Randy
crossed his arms. “I’m sorry.”
Emory rephrased Jeff’s question. “Can you tell us, hypothetically, if someone had a phobia, what would be your suggested therapy?”
“Nice try, but I’ll take no culpability in his suicide.”
Jeff offered him a workaround. “We don’t know that it was a suicide.”
“Then I’m certainly not responsible.”
Emory asked, “Out of curiosity, where were you Monday morning around eight-thirty?”
“I was with a client. A private session.”
“Would this client vouch for you?”
“She would, if need be.”
Jeff told him, “Well, need be. What’s her name?”
“As I said before, patient information is confidential. Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure, but this is where our conversation ends.” Randy spotted an employee walking down the hall, and he waved her over. “Tamara will continue your tour.” He pulled a couple of cards from his pocket and handed one to each. “Have a complimentary yoga class on me.”
Emory and Jeff took the cards and continued the tour with the young lady as their guide. Twenty minutes later, the tour ended, and the PIs headed for the exit. Once outside Jeff was the first to speak. “What do you think?”
Emory waited for a delivery truck to drive by before following Jeff onto the parking lot. “He’s definitely hiding something.”
“I agree.”
Jeff slid into the driver seat of his car. “I’m going to ask Virginia to probe her friend for more information about Corey’s connection with this place.”
Emory nodded from the passenger seat. “The path forward would be much clearer if we knew how he ended up flying through that window.”
Jeff pulled out of the parking lot. “You know who I’d like to talk to is Corey’s temporary replacement. What’s his name?”
Emory checked the notes on his phone. “Corey’s replacement is Frank Belcher.”
Jeff slapped his steering wheel as he closed in on the delivery truck ahead of them. “Seriously? This truck is driving twelve miles under the speed limit.” He swerved over the solid yellow line to see if it were safe to pass, but the curves in the road limited how far ahead he could see.
Death Opens a Window Page 8