“You were at the party, weren’t you?”
“That’s correct.”
“Then we’ll have to question you about that night,” Jake said. “You can walk us around the ship and show us exactly where you were and what you were doing when Mr. Rabb dropped overboard.”
Tuch and Lucy Rabb looked at each other intently, as if they were exchanging a silent message. A seagull squawked overhead and then flew away.
“Well?” Jake demanded.
“Could we agree to a limited search?” Tuch asked.
“No, we couldn’t,” Joanna told him and stepped forward. “I’ll look wherever I want or I won’t look at all.”
Tuch narrowed his eyes. “And just who are you?”
“I’m Dr. Joanna Blalock,” she said, “and I represent the Coroner’s Office. For your information, we don’t do limited searches.”
Tuch studied her briefly, recalling that he’d seen her being interviewed on television once. She was even prettier in person. “A limited search is better than no search at all.”
“Let me tell you how this is going to work,” Joanna said, talking to both the lawyer and Lucy Rabb. “Either I search now or I come back in a few hours with a dozen medical examiners from the Coroner’s Office. We’ll go over this ship from bow to stern with a fine-tooth comb, and it’ll take days for us to do it. And while we’re doing that, Lieutenant Sinclair and his men will search every one of Mr. Rabb’s homes and business offices. Every personal and business effect he has will be put under a microscope.”
“You need a stack of court orders for that,” Tuch challenged.
“That’ll be no problem,” Joanna shot back. “Judges are very accommodating when we tell them we’re dealing with suspected murder.”
“Murder!” Lucy Rabb almost came off her seat on the deck. Her eyes darted back and forth between Tuch and Joanna. “Are you saying my husband was murdered?”
Joanna looked down at Lucy Rabb, wondering if she was acting or really shocked.
Tuch asked, “Are you suggesting you have evidence to indicate murder?”
“You can hear about it at the inquest,” Joanna said, bluffing.
Jake smiled to himself. Tuch was being outfoxed and outclassed and didn’t know it. He let the lawyer squirm a little longer and then said, “If I were you, Counselor, I’d allow Dr. Blalock to do her search. Judges don’t like to hear that somebody is trying to impede a murder investigation.”
“What kind of bullshit is this?” Lucy Rabb barked out. “You can’t just rummage through my dead husband’s things.”
“Sure we can,” Jake said, thinking that class always showed. Or lack of it. Lucy Rabb was gorgeous with a body that wouldn’t quit. She was okay as long as she kept her mouth shut.
“Mervin,” Lucy Rabb said angrily, “will you tell these ass—?”
Tuch quickly brought a finger up to his lips, silencing her. He turned to Jake. “I’d like to confer with my client for a moment.”
“All right,” Jake said, watching Lucy Rabb get to her feet and walk over to the far railing with Tuch. She was tall with shapely legs and an ass so tight it looked as if it were molded on. But her boobs seemed too big and stood out too straight. Silicone, Jake thought.
Joanna moved in close to Jake, keeping her voice very low. “What do you think?”
“I think she’s perfect, except maybe for the boobs,” Jake said absently.
“She’s got cellulite,” Joanna spat out softly.
Jake studied the backs of Lucy’s thighs. They were noticeably dimpled. He smiled to himself, thinking it was curious what a woman noticed. “Not so perfect, after all.”
“Will you get your mind back on business?” Joanna chided him gently.
“It is on business,” Jake said in a whisper. “I was thinking that old man Rabb had a hundred million dollars so he could easily buy something real exquisite. And something real exquisite had him iced.”
“She wasn’t exactly torn up over his death, was she?”
“Christ!” Jake said louder than he’d intended. Tuch looked over and Jake lowered his voice. “The poor bastard has been gone for only a couple of weeks and she calls him ‘my dead husband.’ She doesn’t even have enough sense to act sad.”
“Maybe,” Joanna said. “But there’s a really good chance she’s going to walk and take a ton of money with her. And, of course, her handsome lawyer will be right by her side.”
Jake studied the couple by the railing and then turned back to Joanna. “You think they’re a couple, huh?”
“I’d bet on it.”
Tuch and Lucy Rabb came back to the lounging area. Jake noticed that their arms were almost touching.
“Mrs. Rabb has decided to allow you to search the ship without a warrant,” Tuch said. “If her husband was murdered, she wants the person responsible caught and punished to the fullest extent of the law.”
Yeah, right, Jake thought. If old man Rabb were to suddenly return from the dead, Lucy Rabb would have a shit hemorrhage. “We’ll start in the stateroom.”
Joanna and Jake went through an open door and down carpeted stairs that led into a spacious stateroom. All the furniture was neatly stacked against the walls. A team of Mexican cleaners were vacuuming the floor while listening to Latino music on their radio.
“Qué?” the eldest of the cleaners asked.
Jake motioned with a hand, indicating he didn’t need the Mexican. The old man went back to vacuuming.
Joanna asked, “Why do you think they were so anxious to delay our search?”
“Either they wanted to discard something or maybe rearrange things.”
“Like what?”
Jake shrugged. “Who knows?”
They walked across the big stateroom, heading for the master bedroom.
“And what is Lucy Rabb doing with a high-priced criminal defense lawyer?” Joanna asked.
“Tuch is a regular lawyer who handled all of Edmond Rabb’s legal affairs,” Jake told her. “But if a high-profile murder case comes along, he jumps right in. Then he brings in a team of top-notch defense lawyers to actually handle the case.”
“He still must be pretty good to put a team like that together.”
“I guess so,” Jake conceded. “He’s got a damn good reputation for getting people off.”
“Like the murderer who got off with involuntary manslaughter?”
“Yeah,” Jake growled.
“Tell me about the case.”
“The asshole son of a rich investment banker decided to slip his date a heavy dose of ecstasy,” Jake said hoarsely. “While he’s pulling her panties off, she starts having trouble breathing. So he takes her to the front of an emergency room, dumps her out, and splits. By the time they find her, she’s choking to death on her own vomit.”
“Oh, Lord!”
“It should have been murder two,” Jake went on. “But the snotty little bastard got manslaughter. He served three years and walked.”
“But he gave her the ecstasy and she was still breathing when he dumped her,” Joanna argued. “If he had taken her into the ER, he could have saved her life.”
“Tell that to Mr. Armani upstairs,” Jake said disgustedly.
They entered the master bedroom. The king-size bed was unmade, its sheets and comforter wrinkled up. The pillows showed that two heads had rested there during the night.
“Cute,” Joanna said, seeing two bathrobes draped over a chair. “Chances are those two have been a pair for a while.”
“Oh, yeah,” Jake agreed. “They were banging each other when the old man was alive.” He motioned with his head to the chair. “Brand-new lovers don’t take the time to neatly fold their bathrobes.”
Joanna stared at the crumpled-up sheets that looked as if they’d been kicked back. “I guess it’s possible some other couple used the bed.”
“Like who?”
Joanna shrugged. “Just thinking out loud.”
Jake walked over to the chair and
examined the white terry-cloth bathrobes. One was embroidered with the initials ER on the front pocket. The other had the initials LR. He took hair samples from the backs of each. LR had brunette strands. ER had black strands. “Edmund Rabb had gray hair, didn’t he?”
“Almost white,” Joanna replied.
“We’ll see what these show.” Jake placed the strands in separate plastic envelopes, then picked up the bathrobes and carefully sniffed their collars.
Joanna watched Jake, now recalling that he had a remarkable sense of smell. He could detect and identify odors that most people barely noticed.
“Tuch was wearing a heavily scented aftershave lotion,” Jake said. “Did you notice it?”
Joanna nodded. “It smelled like Polo.”
“So does the back of Edmond Rabb’s robe.”
Sleeping with your lover so soon after your husband’s death was really stupid, Joanna thought. And stupid people usually made careless mistakes. Slowly Joanna moved around the bedroom and methodically inspected every heavy object that could be hand-held. A pair of brass lamps, a phone with answering machine attached, a small metal replica of Michelangelo’s David. All were spotless. “No blood,” she observed.
“Whoever conked him on the head deep-sixed the weapon,” Jake said. “It’s sitting on the bottom of the ocean now.”
“I know.” Joanna stepped back and gazed around the room once more. “And whoever conked him wouldn’t carry a bloody weapon through a stateroom full of guests just to get back to the bedroom. But still . . .” Her voice trailed off as she walked over to an open porthole and carefully examined the metal sill. “No blood,” she reported again.
Jake’s gaze went from the open porthole back to the king-size bed. He envisioned Lucy Rabb and Tuch screwing their brains out. Then, over cigarettes, they decided the best way to whack the old man. Greed, Jake thought. It had no end. It was a goddamn bottomless pit.
Spotting the telephone, he walked over and checked the machine for messages. There were none. Then he looked for the phone number. “Let’s see who Lucy Rabb called the most after her husband got whacked.”
“I’ll bet on Mervin Tuch,” Joanna said.
“Oh, yeah,” Jake agreed. “And since he was her lawyer, I’ll bet all those calls were strictly professional and privileged.”
“Of course.”
They went into a large bathroom. Everything was done in dark wood, including the toilet seat. The counter next to the basin was covered with feminine things. Atop it were hand lotion, cosmetics, perfumes, and a small basket of Crabtree & Evelyn soaps. The medicine cabinet looked like it belonged to an old man. There were vitamin preparations for seniors, dental adhesives for false teeth, testosterone patches, and a bottle of Viagra.
Jake took out the bottle of Viagra and examined it. “The label says the tablets are one hundred milligrams each. Is that a big dose?”
“The highest you can buy,” Joanna said.
“Well, at least the old guy was trying.”
Jake closed the medicine cabinet. “A big nothing. Let’s go look at the deck.”
They walked out and across the stateroom where the cleaning men were still busy vacuuming and scrubbing. Jake slowed, watching them, and then went over to the oldest of the crew. “Do you speak English?”
“Oh, yes,” the thin gray-haired man said.
“Have you cleaned up any blood from this ship?”
“No, señor.”
“Did you ever see blood in the bedroom or bathroom or up top?”
The man shook his head three times.
Joanna and Jake went topside into bright sunlight. Lucy Rabb had put on a wraparound skirt over her bikini bathing suit. Tuch had his coat off and slung over his shoulder. He was drinking Coca-Cola from a small, thick bottle.
Jake asked, “Do you always serve Coke in those bottles aboard ship?”
“Yes,” Lucy answered. “It was Edmond’s favorite drink.”
And a perfect weapon to crack somebody over the head with, Jake was thinking. “We’re going to take a look at the stern. That’s where your husband was standing before he went overboard. Right, Mrs. Rabb?”
“I believe so,” Lucy Rabb said without emotion.
Cold, Jake thought. So damn pretty and beneath it nothing but ice. He took Joanna’s arm and guided her to the back of the vessel. When they were well out of earshot, he asked, “Did you see that Coke bottle? You could really bash in a skull with that.”
“And toss it overboard in the wink of an eye.”
“That, too,” Jake said as a seagull flew over them. “Is there any way to check Edmond Rabb’s skull to see if he might have gotten conked with a Coke bottle?”
Joanna thought for a moment. “I guess it’s possible that a little piece of green glass chipped off and embedded itself into bone.”
“Check it out.” Jake put on dark sunglasses and walked to the brass railing at the very rear of the vessel. “Let me show you where Edmond Rabb was seen just before he died. According to an eyewitness, he was leaning forward with one hand on the railing and the other holding a drink.” Jake assumed the position for Joanna and then straightened up. “No one was near him. The sea was calm. There was no wind. They were traveling at five knots per hour.”
“Is it possible that he was sitting on the railing?”
Jake shook his head. “Rabb wasn’t that stupid. As a young man he was in the merchant marine. He knew ships and he knew the sea.”
Joanna carefully inspected the brass railing and the hard wood below it. There was no protruding ledge or anything else jutting out. She peered down over the railing to examine the stern of the ship. It was smooth and flat with nothing protruding. She couldn’t see the propeller beneath the blue water. She gazed back at the deck. She searched the area around her, looking for hiding places. There weren’t any.
Joanna stepped away from the railing, trying to envision the murder of Edmond Rabb. He was leaning on the rail, yet his body was a safe distance from it. He was probably staring out at the sea. Everything was calm and quiet, so he would have heard someone coming up behind him. Rabb turned, but he was unconcerned because he knew his murderer. He again assumed his position, leaning over the railing. Then he got his head bashed in. He fell forward onto the railing and the murderer shoved him overboard.
“Well?” Jake broke into her thoughts.
“It’s got to be murder,” Joanna told him. “There’s no other way to explain the skull fracture near the crown of his head.”
“No way it could have been accidental, huh?”
“Not that I can see,” Joanna said, and pointed at the brass railing. “If he’d slipped and hit the railing, the skull fracture would have been at the front or back of his head.”
“Could he have taken a header and hit the propeller?”
Joanna shook her head. “They were moving at five knots an hour. The propeller blades would have chewed him up.”
“And you’re telling me that a coroner’s inquest would never buy murder here?”
“It would be a long shot,” Joanna replied. “Somebody would raise the possibility that he took a header and hit a piece of log floating in the water. That would cause a skull fracture near the crown.”
“Is that really a possibility?”
“Sure. But it’s not what happened.”
Joanna and Jake walked back across the deck. The day was becoming hotter, with virtually no breeze at all. Atop the wheelhouse, a string of flags drooped down motionless.
Jake nodded to Lucy Rabb and her lawyer. “Thanks for your time.”
“Mrs. Rabb hopes that no further searches of her ship will be necessary,” Tuch said formally.
“I can’t promise you that,” Jake said.
“If you do return, she will insist on your having a search warrant.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Jake and Joanna went down the gangplank and onto the wharf. The bald man in the white suit was still standing guard.
“Were you working here the night of the party?” Jake asked the guard.
“Yeah.”
“Did you go aboard that night?”
“No,” the guard said, his eyes avoiding Jake’s stare. “I stay on dock.”
“You sure of that?”
“Anybody who say I was on the boat is a liar,” the guard growled.
“We’ll see.”
Jake and Joanna walked away, each lost in their own thoughts for a moment. Behind them they could hear Lucy Rabb shouting down orders to the guard. She wasn’t happy about something.
“What do you think?” Joanna asked.
“I think they’re going to walk.”
The breeze suddenly picked up, blowing in from the harbor. The flags on the pole above the wheelhouse of the Argonaut began to unfurl. There were three flags: the American flag, the State of California flag, and a third one that showed a corporate logo. It was a blue globe of the world on a white background. The word BIO-MED surrounded the globe.
Joanna and Jake left the wharf without looking back. They didn’t see the Bio-Med flag blowing in the wind.
15
“Oliver Rhodes could have lived forever,” Lori McKay said, moving her chair aside. “Take a peek at this.”
Joanna leaned in and studied the slide under the microscope. The cardiac muscle cells appeared young and healthy with no evidence of scarring or atrophy. Small arterioles were wide open without a hint of atherosclerosis. “It looks like the heart of a twenty-year-old.”
“And it performed that way, too.” Lori pointed over at a stack of medical records on a nearby table. “Check out his cardiac function studies, and it’ll blow your mind. His EKG and thallium stress test were absolutely normal, and his cardiac ejection fraction was a hundred and ten percent of the expected value. Hell, this heart could have beat for another fifty years.”
“If it hadn’t developed rhabdomyosarcoma.”
“It’s the same story here,” said Dennis Green, the specialist in oncologic pathology. He pushed himself away from a microscope near the wall in the forensic laboratory. “You examine the brain tissue from this patient and you’ll swear it came from a teenager. There’s no scarring or infarcts or atrophy—yet she’d had multiple strokes in the past.”
Fatal Care Page 14