by H K Christie
I buttoned my coat and headed toward the front doors of the station. In my conversation with Rocco last night, he reminded me I was actually fortunate that Hirsch was willing to even talk to me about an open investigation. Rocco was a great sounding board for all things and often the voice of reason. Sometimes I wondered if I leaned on him too much. Maybe I should get a therapist and not burden Rocco with all my problems. He was a sponsor and wasn’t expected to be my confidant or my crutch. Before my accident, I would’ve gone to Stavros to discuss the idea of working with Hirsch, but now I couldn’t have him questioning my abilities to do the job. I was sober, healthy and fit, and I was going to stay that way. Healthy body, healthy mind.
I approached the receptionist, who had to be at least eighty years old. She wore cat eye glasses and her dark hair in a short bob. The woman gave me a friendly smile. “Hello, how may I help you today?” She asked with a cheerful tone.
“I’m here to see Detective Hirsch. My name is Martina Monroe.”
“Oh, are you here about the cold case?”
“No, not really. It’s about another case, actually.”
“Oh, two cases. You guys are going to be buddies. He is a looker, you know,” she said before chuckling. “I’ll get him for you.” She picked up the phone and pressed a few buttons. “Hello, Detective Hirsch, Ms. Monroe is here to see you.” She nodded and said, “Okay, will do.”
She hung up the receiver and said, “He’ll be right out. So, did you know Donna Bernard?”
“I did. Do you remember the case?” I asked.
“I do. She was such a pretty girl. I didn’t know her personally. I just saw the photos. Do you believe the story that she ran away?”
It warmed my insides to hear that Donna was remembered. I shook my head. “No, I was her best friend and I don’t think that she ran away - not for one second.”
“Good. A woman with convictions, I like that. I hope you find her.”
“Me too.”
“Best of luck Ms. Monroe.” She said before refocusing on her computer screen.
At the sound of footsteps approaching, I glanced across the office and spotted Detective Hirsch. I told myself, friendly Martina, friendly. I gave a weak smile. “Detective, good to see you.”
We shook hands. “You too. Why don’t you follow me back to the conference room and we can talk?”
“Sounds great. After you.” I watched as the receptionist’s eyes followed us as we started down the hall. If she thought I was here to make a romantic connection with Detective Hirsch, she was way off base. Maybe she had read too many romance novels or watched too many telenovelas. Not that Detective Hirsch was bad-looking. He was attractive in a Ken Doll kind of way.
Hirsch led me into a medium-size conference room with a table and seating for eight. “Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, water, or soda?”
“I’d love a cup of coffee. Thank you.”
“I’ll be right back. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”
I slipped off my coat and draped it on the back of my chair, before pulling out my laptop from my messenger bag and setting it on the table. I sat myself down and centered the computer directly in front of me. I supposed if he would give me information on the cases, I could do the same. Quid pro quo and whatnot. Usually two minds were better than one. I hoped that was how it worked out with Hirsch.
With his information and the Sheriff’s department behind him, we should be in pretty good shape. Plus, we’d need Hirsch to arrest whoever we found to be responsible and make sure they were locked up good and tight.
Detective Hirsch reentered with two paper coffee cups in his hands. He handed me a cup and placed a handful of sugar, cream, napkins, and stir sticks on the table. “I didn’t know how you took it, so I brought a little of everything.”
“Thank you, I take it black.”
“I’m impressed. You’re tougher than me.” He took the seat across from me, removed the plastic lid from his coffee, and dumped in two creamers and a packet of sugar. He stirred with a wooden stir stick and then rested it on a paper napkin. He took a sip and set it back down.
Who would be the first to speak? Where would I even start? Probably with the active potential homicide investigation and then we’d get to Donna’s case.
We sat silently across from one another for a little longer than was comfortable for most folks. I assumed we were both familiar with interrogation techniques. I doubt he would break first. I eyed him and then reminded myself that I was supposed to be playing nice. His focus was impressive. Maybe he wasn’t a doofus after all. “For starters, Detective Hirsch, I wanted to thank you for meeting with me. I appreciate it. Both cases are pretty important to me and I know you don’t have to share information with me, so please know it’s appreciated.”
Hirsch gave a lopsided grin. “You’re very welcome, Ms. Monroe.”
“Please call me Martina,” I said in a friendly tone.
“Thank you, Martina. After we spoke on the phone, I talked to my supervisors. They’re fine with you helping with the cases so we don’t have any issues there. However, I need one thing from you and that is the promise that we’ll share information with one another and neither one of us goes to the press or outside this investigation with information unless there’s agreement between the two of us. In a sense, we work like a team. Obviously, you have your part. You’ll work your current investigation, share information you may have about Donna, and I’ll share with you what we have on both cases as well. You have quite the reputation for being a top-notch private investigator so I know you can do the job. I trust you’ll do your part, and I’ll do mine. We share what we find. How does that sound?”
He was a straight shooter. Good. “Sounds like a solid plan. Maybe you can start with what you have on the Theodore Gilmore case and I’ll tell you what I have found about his wife’s family.”
Hirsch explained what he’d learned from the medical examiner and from interviewing the neighbors. I nodded and said, “Interesting. The day the camera was tampered with was the day of Charlotte’s memorial.”
He said, “A day that the perp would know nobody would be home.”
“Exactly.”
Hirsch continued, “We haven’t determined it to be a homicide yet. The autopsy is scheduled for tomorrow. I practically begged the ME to get it in sooner rather than later to give Kennedy a bit of peace. I can’t imagine what she’s going through - losing two parents in a week and a half. It’s horrible.”
“It is. I appreciate it and I’m sure Kennedy will too. What is your take - do you think it’s homicide? Kennedy told me she said his body looked peaceful, but oddly displayed.”
Hirsch nodded. “She’s right. My take - he looked posed. His body was face down, his arms down by his sides. His head was on its side, staring at the wall. Unless he purposefully laid down on the ground in that position and fell asleep and then happened to die in his sleep, which is possible, then it’s murder. Plus, the ME pointed out a puncture mark behind his ear. He could’ve been injected with a chemical that killed him.”
I leaned back in my seat, thinking about what Hirsch had just explained to me. It was starting to sound like a professional hit, assuming that Theodore was murdered and his death wasn’t from natural causes. Had Theodore been murdered because of Charlotte’s past or something completely unrelated? Donna’s case, the disappearance of his next-door neighbor, was also just reopened - another coincidence? Did Theodore know something about Donna’s disappearance? I mumbled, “Interesting,” to myself before meeting Hirsch’s baby-blue eyes. “Let’s assume homicide. Does it seem like a professional hit to you?”
“Forensics hasn’t come up with any prints or obvious signs of a break-in. When you add it all up, if it was a hit, it was a pretty good one.”
I still can’t imagine why someone would have killed Theodore. I had just met with the man the day before. He wasn’t in good health, that I could tell. If that was the case, why take out a sick, old man?
What would be the purpose? Somebody was hiding something and doing everything they could to protect it. But what?
“Penny for your thoughts?”
I glanced back over at Hirsch. “I was just trying to figure out motive. I haven’t seen his medical records, but from what Kennedy has told me, he didn’t have a very good heart. I saw him the day before he was killed, and he didn’t look well. Why take out a sick man? What is somebody hiding or trying to protect that only Theodore knew?”
“I’m not one who believes in coincidences. The fact that you’re investigating his wife’s past, and he supposedly spilled the beans the night before he was killed is too coincidental for my taste. Maybe what he told her wasn’t everything he knew?”
“You also just reopened up the Donna Bernard case. Maybe he knew something about that? They lived next door at the time of her disappearance.”
“Did you know the Gilmores back then?”
“Not well. Kennedy and I were in the same graduating class, but we didn’t run in the same crowd. The only connection I really had to her was that Donna lived next door, and I was at Donna’s house most of the time. We’d wave, and she was friendly, but we never hung out. We may have had a few classes together. I wasn’t always the best student or best kid back then. Kennedy was an honor-roll kid.”
“From reading the files, I’m assuming Donna wasn’t on the honor roll either?”
“No - not so much. Neither one of us was fond of rules back then. We drank and smoked and spent too much time daydreaming and vying for the attention of older boys. I was from the trailer park, but the Bernards were different. They were a good family, a little strict. I think her parents thought I was a bad influence. I hope I wasn’t.” I shook my head and tittered. “Now that I’m a parent myself, I can understand their concerns. As hypocritical as it sounds, my daughter is only seven, but I don’t think I’d like it if she started hanging out with someone from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“I’m sure you weren’t so bad. Did you ever have any interaction with Mr. Gilmore when you were a teenager?”
“No, not that I can remember.”
“Do you remember if Donna interacted with him at all?”
“I wouldn’t think so. I mean, in our later teen years, we were practically inseparable.” I lowered my head and remembered the last time I saw her, not knowing that it was the last time I’d see her. I hadn’t been an excellent friend. I’m not proud of that. But I turned my life around from my wild teen years. The Army helped with that. The Army opened up a lot of opportunity for me. It’s how I met my husband, who gave me my beautiful daughter, and the opportunity to become a private investigator. Now here I was, investigating Donna’s disappearance all these years later and the mysterious death of her next-door neighbor. I picked up the cup of coffee, sipped it, and set it back down. “Not bad for police station coffee.”
“Sheriff’s Department coffee is better than Police Department coffee,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been here at the Sheriff’s Department? When did you leave the SFPD?”
I watched as he fidgeted. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. I bared my soul about my wild teenage years so he should be able to give me this, right?
“It’s not a glamorous story. I joined the Sheriff’s Department a little less than a month ago. I was looking for a change of scenery and a chance to make a difference. This job would allow me to spend half my time on cold cases, and that intrigued me. But to be honest, it was a bit forced as well. My LT and I didn’t always see eye to eye. Actually, I’m not sure we ever did.”
Interesting. I wanted to ask about the DeSoto case, but we already had a lot on our plate. I’d have to save those questions for later - once we solve the two open cases we had. “Are you liking it here?”
“It’s different. A lot of meth labs.”
He hated it. “Yikes.”
“Yeah. So what’s your take? Did you find anything in Mrs. Gilmore’s past that could have made someone want to silence Mr. Gilmore?”
I flipped open the lid of my laptop and powered it on. I then explained the history of the investigation starting from the mystery baby in the photo to the night before Theodore’s murder.
Hirsch tapped his fingers on the table. “With the lack of any evidence to support what she had told her daughter or husband, do you think Charlotte was running from something or someone?”
“That’s what I suspect.”
“The ex-husband?”
“I don’t know. Even with the hometown identified, I can’t corroborate the story that Charlotte’s family died in a house fire or that anybody’s family died in a fire during the time frame Kennedy gave me. If she was running from her ex-husband, why say your family died in a fire?”
“You think it’s her family that she’s running from?”
“Maybe. Another odd thing that happened - a man, supposedly from Charlotte’s past, showed up at her memorial. Claimed he was a childhood friend. He said his name was Alonso Davidson. So I ran a background check on Alonso Davidson.”
“Let me guess, no records for an Alonso Davidson in Pennsylvania?”
“You got it. I think the key to unlocking Charlotte’s past is finding out her family’s actual name. Maybe she was running from them. I just don’t know why. I think the only way to find her maiden name is by searching high school yearbooks.”
I watched as Detective Hirsch took all this information in. “How quickly do you expect to get the books?”
“That’s the thing. I’ve made some calls to the schools in the area, but none of them will send me a copy. They suggested I try eBay. Right now, I’m trying to get clearance through my office to fly out to Doylestown, Pennsylvania and look firsthand. It’s a long trip, but I have a feeling there’s a lot more to this.”
“If Theodore’s death is related to Charlotte’s past, it could be dangerous for you to go out there and start poking around.”
I straightened myself in my chair. “I can take care of myself. I’m adept at hand-to-hand combat.”
His eyes scanned me, as if assessing my abilities. “Ex-Army?”
“Yes, sir.” I said with a smile.
He chuckled. “Do you know when you’ll be able to make the trip?”
“I’m hoping this week.” Assuming I can get Stavros to approve it and convince Claire to stay with Zoey. Maybe I should just cave and hire a live-in nanny, like Claire’s been suggesting lately. I didn’t like the idea of sharing my house, but considering how often I’m out at night and have last-minute situations, it may be the right thing to do. I wasn’t loaded, but I had money from Jared’s life insurance and his pension from the Army. I’d have to consider it, but not right now. “So what are your next steps?” I asked Hirsch, hoping to not appear too forward.
“I’ll be questioning family and friends, looking at financials and his job history. I don’t want to be too laser-focused on Charlotte’s past. Plus, it sounds like you have that covered. As of right now, we don’t have a solid motive and I need to find one. Assuming, of course, that he was, in fact, murdered. My gut says he was.”
“Mine too.”
“We’ll know for sure tomorrow. I’m going to need to re-question Kennedy. Do you think she’s up for it?”
I nodded. “She’s tough. She’s got keen skills too. You should have heard her questioning Alonso, or whoever the guy really is, at the memorial. She knew the right questions to ask and how to ask them. She’s pretty determined to find out who killed her father. Who knows, maybe it’s helping her. I know from experience, it’s much easier to be taking action toward something than sitting around doing nothing. I think she can handle it.”
“Good to hear.”
Hirsch and I continued to discuss the case and how we were going to focus our attention and the plan for our next meeting. He didn’t seem terrible, like I’d thought he might be. His ideas were good. His intuition was on track. Maybe his
disagreements with his LT had everything to do with closing the DeSoto case. I was woman enough to admit when I was wrong. For the sake of the Theodore and for Donna, I hoped I was wrong and that Hirsch and I would find out what happened to both of them, and fast.
17
Detective Hirsch
I took shallow breaths, attempting to minimize the scent of death as I watched the medical examiner explain what happened to Theodore Gilmore. She peeled back his ear. “Remember how I pointed out the puncture mark behind his ear?”
“I do.” I don’t think I’d ever forget. It’s hard to get the images of dead bodies out of your mind, no matter how hard you try.
“Was he injected with a special chemical that stopped his heart?”
She shook her head. “Nope, he or she was not that sophisticated. When I got him on my table, I found some additional markings that I thought were interesting.”
She pulled back the sheet, exposing Mr. Gilmore’s torso. It was dark purple with a crude ‘Y’ incision from the autopsy. She pointed to his abdomen. “You see that cluster of punctures right there?”
“I see them.”
“They got me curious. I rushed the toxicology screen. It came back with a few strange results. One was the presence of ketamine and sky-high levels of insulin. I went through his chart - he wasn’t diabetic.”
I stared at the cluster of puncture wounds on his abdomen again. Somebody injected several doses of insulin into his belly. “What was the cause of death?”
“Overdose of insulin.”
“Not the ketamine?”
“Given the condition of his heart, it may have eventually killed him. But no, my guess is the killer gave him a quick jab of ketamine to get him on the floor and then gave him seven injections of insulin into his abdomen before rolling him over and posing him.”