Chapter Two
Grace, Ryan Cook’s assistant, had bound herself to a chair with a thick nylon rope. The samurai doll with a gun in its hand dangled in front of her from the magnetic hook in the ceiling. Once Grace pressed the remote lying on her thigh, the doll swirled, oscillated, and shot rubber bullets in all directions, hitting Grace’s face, furniture, and the wall.
The forensic people had finished their job and Grace enacted Nancy’s suicide to get an idea how Nancy could have committed it.
Her boss captured the actions on his android phone. “Nice work, Ryan. I’ll show it to the press. It’ll make them believe we’re doing something. Shall I call them?”
“No, sir. We need some more time to confirm it was suicide.”
“Julia already called and wanted updates on the case.”
Julia was the secret agent who would be in town tomorrow. The president planned to visit the town next week. It was Julia’s duty to find out if the town was free of assassins and murderers.
The boss continued. “You don’t know about Julia. She wants quick and accurate results. She is a devil. She thinks we are all morons. She doesn’t know we are understaffed and she doesn’t care.”
Ryan had another thought. Secret agents worked at a different pace. They had more work pressures since they were concerned about the security of the first man of the country.
“Okay, I’ll confirm in two hours.”
“Thank you, Ryan. Let’s move to a diner and discuss the case.”
Ryan drove to a restaurant near Grayhawk Park with Grace in his squad car. They sat at a corner table; the coolness of the air conditioning was welcoming after the scorching heat outside. Boss followed them in his car and joined them. Ryan’s another assistant Roberts was with cyber crime John Dalton at the precinct, analyzing the cell phone, hard disks retrieved from Nancy’s desktop and laptop.
Boss ordered a quick lunch for all of them, Banh Mi, egg rolls, and lemon tea. Munching a piece of sandwich, Ryan said, “We shouldn’t waste a single minute from now on. Let’s assume that Nancy didn’t commit suicide. What are the things we have on hand to prove that point?”
Grace said, “There is no proper suicide note. The killer could have easily typed the suicide note on the tab after killing Nancy. No handwriting, no signatures, there is no proof that it was written by her. The tab didn’t even have a lock.”
Boss answered, “A fine example is my daughter; she is always texting, texting, texting. She does it everywhere regardless of where she is at that time, bath room, dining room, or bedroom. Leaving a suicide note on a tablet is nothing strange. Typical of the younger generation. My daughter doesn’t have a pen in her purse.”
Grace added, “The dramatic effect in the death, the doll with the gun, hanging from the ceiling, the remote control that activates the doll and the gun spilling bullets all over the room, it sounds fishy. Why did a woman who wanted to commit suicide choose to go over elaborate measures to end her life? She could simply swallow pills or put a gun to her head and kill herself. The death scene doesn’t fit with Nancy’s character.”
“The youngsters are like that. They want sensation in everything, in their death too.”
“Nancy is a not a teenager. She is around twenty-five or twenty-six, a mature woman actually.”
Boss sipped the tea and said, “I have another theory, guys. She loved babies, right? The way she filled two cupboards with dolls would show her mindset. However, her husband didn’t understand her feelings. He did not follow the doctor’s advice. She was very upset. She was depressed. She put a real gun in the doll’s hand and killed herself figuratively telling her husband why she was killing herself.”
Grace argued. “I wonder if not having a baby is a valid reason for committing suicide. Technology has advanced. Just combine a sperm and an egg in a Petri dish, put it in a surrogate mother, and we have a baby in our hands. It becomes as simple as going to a shop and purchasing something. They’re rich, with the amount of money they have, they can buy anything in the world.”
“It’s not like that, Grace. You can’t buy the experience of being pregnant. They relish every single moment, the joy of a baby growing inside their womb, the movement, the pain of giving birth, the sweet moment of a baby suckling at their breasts for milk, not everyone prefers a surrogate mother and the technology doesn’t bring you the joy of giving birth to a baby. You talk to your mother, she will tell you.”
Grace continued. “Successful women don’t commit suicide.”
“How did you determine Nancy was successful? When Nancy entered business, Vampire Whiskey already had a local brand name. She had no problems in expanding her client base. In fact, she did nothing extraordinary in her sales career. When something was not going right, her dad was always there to help her. She met her first opposition in her married life. Her husband was not listening to her. He was fighting with her. She did not wish to bring her dad into her family life. She was depressed and ended her life.”
Ryan asked, “Do we have any points to prove that it is a suicide?”
Grace stirred her cup with a spoon. “Yes, she killed herself in a locked room.”
Boss got up from his chair. “Okay, Ryan. I think we’ve covered almost all the points. Anyway, as promised, I’m giving you two extra hours. I hope you come with the correct solution.”
Boss left them and after using the rest room, Ryan joined Grace. They drove to visit Nancy’s family doctor, Irving Banks. The afternoon traffic was light and they reached the five-star hospital near East Osborn road. When Ryan showed his card, the receptionist smiled charmingly and directed them to sixth floor consulting room. As they walked down the vast corridor, Ryan noted the building was missing the smell and décor usually associated with a hospital. He had a pleasant, comfortable feeling.
Irving Banks said that he had only ten minutes to spare with them. He was small in stature. His bald head reflected light and he was out of place in his huge office. He droned on.
“Nancy was young and healthy and she was not in the need of a family doctor’s help. Sometimes I would get a call from her, asking for prescriptions for minor complaints like indigestion and migraine. After her wedding, she consulted me once with concern about her inability to conceive. I sent her to my colleague, a gynecologist. I later learned from her that Nancy didn’t have any serious problem, with a relaxed and happy mind, she could conceive and a second honeymoon would be the best remedy. But she couldn’t make her husband agree to a holiday trip as he was a busy businessman and that could have caused her depression. I guess she had been thinking about suicide for some time.”
Ryan asked, “Care to explain?”
“She asked over the phone one week earlier why people committed suicide. I said it was due to some changes in brain chemistry and proper medications and counseling could rectify it. I asked why she was inquiring and she said she was reading a book on suicide and wanted to confirm whether the things written in the book were true. How could I have known at the time that she was planning her own suicide?”
While returning to the precinct from the hospital, Ryan received a call from Roberts. “We studied her browsing history. She had searched a lot about suicide recently. On the morning of her suicide, she had read an article about suicide and case histories.”
Ryan turned to Grace. “Her friend Judy Price also told us the same thing. It is definitely a suicide.”
Around four o’ clock, the media persons started to gather in the front yard and were taking trial shots of the precinct building. The thick trees lined beside the compound wall gave them a good cover from the scorching sun.
Boss slid out of the rest room; definitely he would have rehearsed the speech in front of the mirror for the hundredth time. He wore a light makeup, a brand new shirt, and combed his hair slick. He always loved the media attention and he would maintain his smug expression, however nasty they could be. He placed his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Come on, Ryan. Join
me with your assistants. You can rescue me if the press throws a tricky question.”
The boss walked gracefully toward the front yard and Ryan and his assistants followed him.
The cameras flashed, zoomed and mics thrust in front of the boss.
Ryan’s cell buzzed. Picking it out of his pocket, he ran away from the media crowd and stepped beside a tree. It was an unknown caller. Ryan watched as his boss was preparing to give his speech. The caller sounded very excited. “I’m Judy Price, Nancy’s friend. I talked to you in the morning. I have something shocking to share with you. Nancy didn’t commit suicide. She was murdered. It was a bloody murder.”
Boss turned and motioned Ryan to join the interview. The cameras swerved toward Ryan.
Ryan talked into the phone. “Come on, how do you know that she was murdered?”
“There was an update in her blog just an hour earlier.”
“Update in her blog? She’s been dead eighteen hours.”
“She wrote it yesterday and uploaded it in the server, setting the time to be displayed on her blog by 4 o’clock today.”
“What did she write?”
“She was going to start a new organization without a profit motive. She had started the documentation and was going to register it soon.”
“What was that organization?”
Two or three media people approached him with mic. “We are waiting. Can you please join us?”
Judy told him about the organization. How did Roberts miss it? Ryan called Roberts once Judy ended her call. While the call was going, Ryan turned to the media people. “I’m attending to a very important call. Please wait.”
Ryan explained to Roberts. “There was an update in her blog. Did you notice any blog writing in her hard drive?”
“She must have uploaded it from her office computer. We have started analyzing it now.”
Ryan terminated the call, approached the boss and whispered. “You need to change your speech now. Nancy was murdered.” Boss’s complexion changed to crimson. He was controlling his emotion. “She was going to start an organization called ‘The Life Savers.’ Its job is to save people with suicidal tendencies.”
The Accident ( The President Series Book 1) Page 6