by H K Christie
“This isn’t a good time.”
“Got it. I’ll make it quick. I gave her the message after she had a cozy dinner at the bistro.”
Silence from the boss. The message he delivered was cryptic, but surely the boss understood what it meant.
“Call me back in five minutes,” The boss said, before the line went dead.
He continued down the highway, turned off at his exit, and continued until he reached his driveway. Safe inside the garage, he entered his house and kicked off his shoes. He removed his jacket and gloves before dialing the boss again. “Hey, Boss.”
“Tell me everything that happened.”
“I followed her back to the bistro. I could see from outside that she spoke with Amy again. I don’t know what they said, but Amy looked pretty upset afterward. I caught up with the PI in the parking lot and let her know it would be in her best interest to go back home.”
“I don’t like this. Not one bit. I have a feeling this PI won’t stop until she ruins everything. I want this over and done with.”
“You got it, Boss.”
“Let her get back home and then have her taken out. I don’t care how you do it. You can handle it yourself or contract out. I trust you to handle it.”
He never enjoyed taking a life, but he didn’t mind another trip to the West Coast either. Plus, after what that woman had done to his groin, he felt he owed it to Martina Monroe to be there when she took her last breath.
24
Detective Hirsch
I waved to Vincent as he approached. Vincent was a young guy with a thick head of dark blonde hair and rosy cheeks. He worked in the records department and I’d only had a few encounters with him, but he seemed competent and friendly. “What do you have for me?” I asked.
“I’ve got the records that you requested from the airlines. Looks like your pal, Diego, was in fact in Mexico when Donna disappeared.”
If Diego hadn’t lied about his trip to Mexico, maybe he’d been truthful about the older man that he’d seen with Donna too. If true, that meant Donna had been working for the man on a secret project that paid more than a legitimate gig. Either that, or Diego still was fuming over the end of their relationship and had one of his buddies take care of Donna for him. It was a possibility I’d considered. Despite his nonchalant attitude about his relationship with Donna, based on what Martina had said, Donna was the one who had ended the relationship, and it hadn’t been pretty. “Thanks, man. Any luck on bank records for Donna too?”
“I was able to get ahold of the records for the account her parents had opened for her. They were cosigners on the account. There weren’t any regular deposits, like you’d expect if she was getting a regular allowance, a few lump sums once or twice a year.”
Likely birthday and Christmas money, but I’d have to ask the parents to be sure. “Nothing else?”
“It’s possible she had another account that we just don’t know about. Searching all the databases for any bank accounts registered to Donna Bernard from that long ago would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. We can do it, it’ll just take a little longer.”
I was thinking it was time to revisit the Bernard home and start going through Donna’s things. If she had another bank account, maybe she’d have bank records or an ATM card or something to that in effect could lead us in the right direction. It would be helpful to know when her business dealings with the older man had started and ended. Although, I wasn’t sure we’d get that lucky. A thousand dollars a month was a lot, but if it were an illegal operation, they were likely all cash transactions.
I glanced up at Vincent. “Thanks, this is great.”
“Sorry I don’t have any better news, but I have one more thing.” He said with a devilish grin before he held up a manilla folder and tapped it with his fingers.
“What’s that?”
“I got a hit on a break-in at a veterinary office in Concord. Want to guess what was stolen?”
I straightened in my seat. “Ketamine?”
“You got it. Here’s the police report.” He handed me the folder.
“I also sent it to your email.”
I took the folder, opened the cover and began reading the report. What was this? Not only had ketamine been stolen, but insulin too. I’d have to check with the medical examiner to see if they could match up the insulin and ketamine stolen from the veterinarian’s office to what was used on Theodore Gilmore. We may have just found the origins of the murder weapon. I stared up at Vincent with a grin. “I think I owe you a beer.”
“I’ll hold you to that. I’m still compiling the background on the Henleys. So far, nothing unusual, but we’ll keep digging. Anything else I can get you?”
“That’s all for now.”
It would’ve been nice to know if the Henleys had been involved in any suspicious activity sooner rather than later, but I’d just have to be patient. I thanked Vincent, and he left, presumably to continue his research. I returned my attention to the manilla folder. We had something to chase in the Gilmore murder. I picked up my desk phone receiver and dialed the medical examiner’s number. “Dr. Scribner speaking.”
“Hi, Dr. Scribner. It’s Detective Hirsch, I have a few questions for you about the Theodore Gilmore toxicology results.”
“The official report should be available pretty soon, but I can see what the draft report contains. What do you need?”
“Is there a way to distinguish between for veterinary-use insulin and for human-use insulin?”
“The only thing that may differ is dosage. Hmm.”
“What is it?”
“Actually, now that you mention it, give me a second. Let me pull up the draft report.”
I waited for the doctor to return. Could this be the smoking gun, or in this case the smoking injection? I needed to work on my comedy routine.
Dr. Scribner returned to the line. “Okay, just as I thought. Yeah, based on the number of injections and the level of insulin found in Mr. Gilmore’s body, it would align with a veterinary-grade insulin dosage.”
“If I knew the dosage of the insulin, would you be able to match up the results based on the number of injections?”
“I sure could.”
My adrenaline was pumping. “All right, we got a break-in at a nearby veterinary office just over the hill. Both insulin and ketamine, and a few other assorted drugs were stolen. I’ll send you the report. It’ll include the type of insulin and ketamine stolen.”
“All right, I should be able to take a look later today.”
“Awesome. Thanks, doctor. I’ll send it right over.”
“Anytime.”
I hung up and forwarded the police report for the break-in at the veterinary office to the medical examiner. I looked down at the report on my desk and studied the responding officer’s notes on the case. Hot damn. I made a quick call to a buddy over at the Concord Police Department before grabbing my keys from atop my desk. I pushed the chair back, slid on my coat, and hurried out of the building.
Webb smacked me on the back of my shoulder. “How the hell are you, Hirsch?”
Detective Webb and I went way back. He had been a coworker and friend, even introduced me to my soon-to-be ex-wife. He thought we would be a perfect match. I guess I did too. That was before the job turned me into what I was now. A somewhat-jaded workaholic who didn’t do well around most people. “I’m all right. How are you, Kelly, and Nate?”
“I can’t complain. Nate started first grade this year. It’s amazing how time flies. Kelly is still at John Muir Hospital working in the NICU. Overall, not too bad. We’ll have to have you over for dinner so we can catch up.”
“Sounds good.” I doubted the invitation would actually be extended, considering Kelly was close friends with my ex.
“I know this isn’t a social call, so we’ll get down to it. Let me take you back to my desk. I’ll show you what we’ve got. We haven’t gotten everything back yet, but we’re hoping for forensics to come
back with some good news.”
We reached his cubicle. Webb sat in his chair and tapped on his keyboard before focusing on the monitor. I perched on the chair next to his desk.
“As you read in the file, we have video surveillance footage from outside of the vet’s office. It’s decent quality, but it doesn’t help too much considering our perp wore a hat, scarf, jacket, and gloves.”
“Sounds like he was definitely trying to conceal his identity.” As did most of the smarter criminals.
Webb nodded. “He was careful. Here.” He swiveled his monitor. “Have a look.”
I leaned forward to get a closer look. Webb pressed the key for the video to start. I watched, as a man, maybe five foot ten inches with a medium build, using a tension tool and lock pick, tried to unlock the back door to the vet’s office. He wore a black baseball cap, black jacket, gloves, and a scarf. The only visible skin was from the nose down to his chin. He was either Caucasian or Latino with brown to olive skin tone. He didn’t appear fresh-faced. More mature, maybe fifty or sixty. Successful in unlocking the door, he slid the locking picking kit in his jacket pocket before creeping inside the building. Lights above the door flashed and a siren sounded. Less than a minute later, the perp rushed back out. “Hey, freeze that.”
Webb reached forward and hit pause. The perp’s jacket was bulkier in the front. Likely, he shoved the drugs down the front of his jacket and zipped it up before hightailing it out of there. I studied his lower face. There appeared to be a dark shadow on the left side.
I pointed to the screen. “Do you see that?”
Webb grinned. “You bet. Want to guess what it is?”
I stared into Webb’s shining blue-gray eyes. Webb seemed to know exactly what it was, and I had a feeling as well. “Do tell.”
“Dun. Dun. Dun.” He mimicked dramatic music for effect. “Our pal broke the glass door on the drug storage cabinet. There aren’t cameras in there, but we suspect it rained down on him and cut his cheek. Our forensic team has samples of the glass that had traces of human blood on them.”
I had rushed down to Concord PD for the surveillance footage, but this was so much better. “Are you telling me you have the guy’s DNA?”
“That’s the rub. We have the sample, but the lab’s backed up. We don’t have priority because it’s not linked to a violent crime. But if it was…” He raised his brows at me.
“I think I could help you with that.”
Webb smiled. “I’m all ears. Tell me what you have.”
“Well, for starters, call the lab because it’s connected to a homicide investigation.” I described the details of the medical examiner’s report for Theodore Gilmore, and how I suspected that this break-in was the origin of the drugs that were used to kill Mr. Gilmore.
Webb leaned back, hands his behind his head. “Well, I’ll be damned. I’ll call the lab. All I need is a case number.”
We exchanged the information needed to get the DNA processed faster. A DNA match in CODIS (the Combined DNA Index System, which included state and national databases) meant we’d have the identity of the suspect for the veterinary break-in and the Gilmore homicide investigation. A two for one special.
25
Martina
I carefully stepped out of my car, one foot at a time. My ribs and back were on fire. The ibuprofen had long worn off. I was tired. I was in pain. And I was pissed off. But at last, I was home. If it wasn’t for the few hours of sleep on the airplane, I don’t think I would’ve made it. At this moment, nothing sounded better than seeing Zoey’s little face and sleeping in my own bed.
I braced myself on the car door, and then stepped back and shut it. I glanced at the trunk where my suitcase lay and kept on walking toward the front of the house. My luggage could wait. I pulled out my keys from my jacket and unlocked the door.
Within moments, I heard the pattering of feet running down the hall. I shoved the door open and stepped inside. Zoey ran toward me. When she reached me, she flung her arms in a V and wrapped them around me. “Mommy, I’m so glad you’re home.”
I gently hugged her back, wincing. I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was causing me agonizing pain. I sucked it up before untangling her dainty arms from around my waist. “How was your trip? I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Me too.” I grimaced.
Zoey’s face turned serious. “What’s wrong, Mommy? Are you hurt?”
“I have a few bumps and bruises, that’s all.”
Zoey’s eyes widened. “What happened?”
“It’s a long story, honey. I’ll tell you later.” I glanced up and saw Claire standing in the hall. I let out a breath. “Hi, Claire, how’s it going?”
She was solemn and not her normal, bubbly self. “All is normal around here.”
“Good to hear.” I hadn’t told Claire or Zoey about my attack. As it was, ever since my accident the year before, Zoey had developed a little separation anxiety when it came to me leaving the house or going on trips.
Claire eyed Zoey. “Why don’t we let your mom settle in. Maybe she needs something to drink or eat or to just rest. She went on a long trip.”
Claire turned her focus to me. “Are you hungry, Martina? Can I get you anything?”
“Starved.”
Zoey patted my arm. I gazed down at her. “Claire made some really, fantastic enchiladas. Do you want some?”
“I would love some.” Have I thanked God for Claire today?
“I’ll get it for you, Mommy.” And she ran off toward the kitchen.
I walked slowly toward Claire. She hurried to be closer to me. “What happened?”
“I was attacked last night in Pennsylvania. I haven’t told Zoey yet. It’s related to the case I’m working.”
“How bad is it? Did you see a doctor?”
“Yeah, I called the police after the attack. They insisted I go to the hospital. I’m fine. A couple of bruised ribs, and some banged-up kidneys.”
Claire frowned. “That sounds awful. Can I get you anything for the pain? How about some ibuprofen and an ice pack?”
My savior. “Both would be great. Thank you.”
I knew I would have to tell her what happened in the parking lot outside of Henley’s Bistro. It wasn’t like I could hide it from Claire. She was studying to be a nurse and would be certified in a few short months.
She said, “Why don’t you go in the kitchen and I’ll bring them to you. I also need to tell you about something else.”
An uneasiness filled me. That didn’t sound like a good something. “Okay.”
I made my way to the kitchen and sat down at the dining table.
I watched, as Zoey stood on the step stool that I’d purchased when she’d insisted she was ready to get her own plates and cups, if only she were taller. Miss almost-eight-going-on-eighteen. Zoey opened the door to the microwave and then lifted the plate with three enchiladas on it and placed it inside the microwave. She shut the door and then turned around to look at me. “A minute?”
I smiled. It was good to be home. “I think a minute will be perfect.”
Claire arrived at the table with a glass of water and four ibuprofen tablets. She set the cup of water on the table and handed me the pills. I picked up the glass, popped the pills in my mouth and washed them down with the water. Claire had the ice pack in her hand and kept it by her side. I wondered if she was gauging whether I wanted Zoey to see that I was injured. I nodded, took the ice pack and sandwiched it between my back and the chair.
The microwave beeped. Zoey opened the door, grabbed the plate, and set it down on the counter before climbing down from the stool. She picked up the plate and brought it over to the table, setting in front of me. “Enchiladas for the best mommy in the world.” She said with flair.
“It smells delicious. Thank you so much.” I glanced up at Claire. “Thank you.”
I took a bite of the chicken and cheese enchilada, shut my eyes, and softly moaned. It was amazing. Claire, at twenty-two
years old, was an amazing cook, the best damn nanny I’d ever seen, and a nursing student. Some people, like Claire, were truly gifted. I continued to eat, feeling grateful for the home-cooked meal.
Zoey took the seat across from me. “How was your trip, Mommy?”
I swallowed my bite and set my fork down. “It was productive. I got a lot of excellent information.”
“So, you can help your client?”
“Yes, I think it will.”
“Was your client really happy?”
I wasn’t sure how joyful the news would be to Kennedy. “I haven’t told her yet. We have a meeting tomorrow to go over all the information.”
“I bet she’ll be so happy. Is this the one where you were trying to find a baby?”
Zoey had quite the memory. I probably needed to be more careful about what I told her. “Yes, I think we found the baby in the picture.”
“Wow. I bet you’re the best private investigator in the whole world.”
I don’t know if that was true, but I was able to identify the baby in the photo, and hopefully, the additional information about the Henleys would be of some comfort to Kennedy - to know she had more family out there. Although, I had an inkling that most of that family would be people she may not want to know. If my suspicions were correct, there were a lot of rotten apples on that family tree.
“Guess what?” Zoey asked.
“What?”
“Grandma Betty called.”
My chest tightened. Why was my mother calling? And why was I surprised? She had probably heard that I’d been on the island investigating a case. Hopefully, her call didn’t mean she wanted to reconnect. That was one train wreck I’d like to avoid. “What did Grandma Betty have to say?”
“Well, she said that she heard you were on Stone Island and she wants to see us. She wants to come for a visit.”
Over my dead body. “She did, did she?”
Zoey nodded emphatically. “She says she misses us. I remember I made her a Christmas card last year, but I can’t picture her face. What does she look like?”