by Lee Perry
“Your Honor! Please instruct the wit…”
“Overruled.” The judge threw him a stern look, “The witness will continue.”
“Once at the datacenter he was responsible for the murder of Arthur Mills, a security guard, two of the datacenter’s programmers…”
“Yes,” he cut her off, “and you shot and killed two of Mister Jeffers’s associates before shooting my client in his genitals!”
“Oh, for god’s sake!” the prosecutor stood, “where are you going with this?”
The judge waved at both lawyers, “Answer the question, Agent.”
“As I have already stated, at that point I was quite tired…”
Collard scoffed, “Tired?”
The judge held up a hand, “Let her answer.”
“I had taken quite a physical pounding from Mister Jeffers’s associates…” From the corner of her eye, she saw Jeffers grin, “And when I finally succeeded in stopping the four of them and turned to Mister Jeffers, he lunged at me…”
“He was unarmed…”
“Correct, and I fired my weapon…”
Mister Collard swung his hands in a wide, theatrical gesture, “So you admit it freely? You deliberately shot my client, an unarmed man, in his privates.”
“I followed my training and aimed for the center of Mister Jeffers’s chest.” The defense attorney looked surprised and she looked from him to Jeffers, “The use of deadly force in this instance was justified given the level of present danger and violence already committed by Jeffers and his associates.” Her head cocked to one side as she regarded Jeffers, who sat stone-faced, “But I was exhausted, and although I was aiming at his chest my arm had dropped significantly when I fired…”
“It was on purpose, Agent Hawkins!”
“Jeffers was enraged and attacked with deadly intention, if I had more energy and kept my arm raised, in that second I would have shot him in the chest and he wouldn’t have survived.”
Jeffers emitted an audible snort of contempt and glared at her, but her expression was neutral as she stared back at him and he looked back down at his notepad. She felt several long seconds pass in silence and she watched as Jeffers stole looks at her, looking increasingly uncomfortable; You really are one messed up pathetic little prick, aren’t you?
“Objection, Your Honor! The witness is trying to intimidate my client by staring at him!”
“Fine,” the judge sighed heavily, sounding bored, “please look away, Agent Hawkins.”
She looked expectantly at Mr. Collard and waited for the next question.
He stood before her, licking his lips, an expression of acute uncertainty on his face, “I have no further questions, Your Honor.”
“You’re excused, Agent.” The judge rapped his gavel, “Let’s take a ten minute recess.”
She left the stand and the prosecutor gave her a nod, whispering his thanks. As federal officers led Jeffers from the room, she saw a look of supreme annoyance on his face and when she caught his eye, she saw the sudden transformation from arrogance to fear. Are you sure you’re enjoying yourself, Warren? The words were unspoken but Jeffers reacted as though he heard her and tore his eyes away, fleeing the room and making his guards pull on the belly chain, reconnected to his handcuffs, to slow him down.
She left the courtroom and pulled her phone from her pocket. She turned it on as she headed for the lobby and smiled when she felt it vibrate and saw the lighthouse icon fill the screen,
“Catherine is sending you a message.” She stepped to one side in the marble hallway and tapped the screen, “I miss you, please call me when you can.” She tapped Catherine’s phone number. It only rang once.
“Jordan?”
She grinned, “Hey, I’m done for the day, and I missed you too.”
“I have good news and bad news, the good news is I found Hannah Babcock’s murder scene.”
Jordan’s jaw dropped and she blurted, “You what?”
“I found identical red rugs in those creepy clone bedrooms in Helga’s apartments. But Jordan, the one on the twelfth floor was there before Hannah’s murder, then disappeared after.”
Jordan’s grin was huge as she hurried from the courthouse, “But we have the identical one in her mom’s bedroom on the ninth floor…”
“No…” Catherine cut her off, “we don’t, that’s the bad news; when Mary’s team took another set of photos after Brenda Jensen’s murder the rug on the ninth floor had disappeared too.”
“Oh…” Jordan pushed through the doors and stood on the steps outside, “well…” She parked a hand on her hip and stepped to the side, allowing people to pass, “Look, photographic evidence is still good, I can use it to make Gary crack and who knows? Maybe that second rug is in storage or something.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Doctor Bernard,” she smiled again, “excellent work. Keep looking, I’m on my way back.”
She had arranged the series of pictures on the wide screen, arranging them in the order taken from left to right and pasted the digital index cards beneath each. She sat in one of the theater-style seats, her phone and the screen’s remote on her lap.
“Keep looking?” She muttered to the empty room, “For what?”
She sighed dejectedly and slumped, resting her head on the back of the seat. One these things is not like the other. Her thoughts began to wander and fleeting images of Jordan and Cameron reading the find the animal book flitted past her mind’s eye. “So,” she mused aloud, “where’s Waldo?” She snorted, “I mean the elephant?” You already found the elephant in the room, and then it disappeared. And actually, all of the things in these bedrooms are exactly the same as in the other. “Gary bashed Hannah in the head, killing her, then he wrapped her up in that rug and…” She sat bolt upright in the seat, “Oh my god, he hit her in the back of her head with what?” She gripped the armrests and stared hard first at Mattie’s photos then Mary’s first photographic series of the matching bedrooms.
“There’s a second elephant in this room…” She stared at the carved hearth with gold-painted angels, “and there it is…”
Mattie’s picture of the hearth and rug clearly showed a bronze statuette of a ballet dancer in pirouette on the mantle, standing amid other bronze dancers in various poses. About what, twelve inches high? Easy to grip and swing around… and look at the base, thick and heavy.
“Oh, Jordan,” she moaned aloud, “please hurry!”
She burst into the auditorium and Catherine jumped. “Sorry,” Jordan apologized, “I’m still in hurry mode.” She planted a quick kiss on her lips.
“Oh, my god!” She pushed her into a seat, “Sit, sit! I have been going crazy waiting for you to get back!”
Jordan sat with a thud and chuckled, “Okay, lay it on me.”
She sat next to her and showed her the progression of disappearing red area rugs and Jordan kissed her, “And that’s Jenga… You did it! That’s it!”
Catherine looked at her in complete confusion, “What’s Jenga?”
“It’s…” Jordan snickered, “I’ll explain later.” She waved distractedly at the screen, “Can you pull up Mary’s report when she processed Gary’s car?”
Catherine quickly accessed and scanned through her emails, “Here it is.” She handed her the remote and Jordan clicked open the document labeled, Evidentiary Findings.
She muttered, “I could swear I saw…” She scanned through the long list of fiber evidence found and chuckled, “Oh yes…” She highlighted a section of text, enlarging it on the screen and read Mary’s narrative aloud, “Negative for evidence of blood. No evidence of excessive cleaning, like with bleach. Positive for dirt, dust and fibers… Fiber evidence was recorded and collected from the trunk’s rim.” She clicked open the corresponding photo, “And there you go…” Jordan said in a low voice. “Mary needs to confirm it but it sure looks like red carpet fibers stuck in the rim of Gary’s trunk.” She turned to her, excited, “And what’ll you bet those fib
ers will match the ones found on Hannah Babcock?”
“So he rolled her body into that red rug… and when he either stuffed her body into the trunk or dragged her out, bits of it got stuck in the rim.”
Jordan’s grin was huge, “That’s right.”
Catherine’s eyes were bright and she held out her hand for the remote, “And that’s not all…” Jordan handed it back. “Back to Mattie’s first picture of Helga’s bedroom on the twelfth floor…”
“Yes?”
She circled the object with the laser, “See the statuette on the mantle?”
Jordan’s excited eyes flitted from her to the screen and she rose from her seat, “Don’t tell me, you found the murder weapon.” She approached the screen and pointed, “And that’s it?”
“I believe so. Look at the progression of pictures again; first, Mattie’s photos show these two statuettes on the mantles of both hearths in both bedrooms. Then Hannah is murdered and Mary’s team photographs the rooms and,” she circled the mantle in the next photo with the laser, “see? The statuette is missing from Helga’s bedroom, but,” she circled the laser on the next photo, “like the red rug, the statuette’s twin is still sitting on the mantle in her mother’s bedroom on the ninth floor.”
Jordan’s eyes flicked ahead to the next series, “And after Mary’s second forensic sweep it disappeared along with the red rug.”
“Yep…” Catherine sighed, sounding dejected. “What do you suppose he did with them?”
Jordan shrugged, “In the river? Who knows?” She said, smiling, “But given Helga’s penchant for collecting art, I’m willing to bet one was the original and the other an official copy. All we need to do is track down just one more copy and match the base to the injuries in Hannah Babcock’s skull.” Catherine looked hopeful and she grinned, “Congratulations, Doctor Bernard, you just cracked the case.”
“And that’s… Jenga?”
“Absolutely.”
Catherine unplugged her tablet and they returned to their office across the hall. Jordan’s desk phone was ringing and she checked the caller ID before activating the speaker function,
“Stewart…”
“I heard you were back, I thought you were stuck in court all day.”
“Jeffers’s lawyer had nothing substantive to ask me so the prosecutor let me go for now. Look, I’m on my way to see you…”
“Not right this second you’re not; some haughty woman is downstairs waiting to talk to the agent responsible for holding up the Lynch estate.”
“Another family member?”
“No, she’s a pissed off beneficiary insisting she talk to someone and I am not going down there.”
“Fine.” Jordan sighed heavily and severed the connection, groaning low in her chest as she rotated her neck.
Catherine snickered, “How about I go talk to her?” She offered, “I can say I’m your assistant or something and I’m there to listen to her complaint and get her contact information…”
She looked surprised, “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” She stood, searching for a pad and pen, “this could be fun.”
“Oh my god, thank you!” Jordan absently patted her hands over her pockets, “Just say I’m unavailable, get her info and then send her away, okay?”
“Will do, Agent Hawkins.”
“While you’re doing that I’ll get Stewart to order an emergency warrant for the statue and rug… Maybe Mary can find them hidden in one of Helga’s storage rooms.”
Catherine grabbed her phone, “I’ll call Mattie and see if she can help on the statuette, it’s odd it wasn’t on her list of missing items.”
Jordan frowned, “Huh, did Gary delete it from his hard drives?”
“No, I didn’t recover any deletion that fit that description. That’s why I’m hoping Mattie can figure it out.”
Catherine walked briskly into the conference room and held out her hand to the elderly woman seated primly behind the table, “Vivian Thibodaux? How do you do, I’m Catherine Bernard; I’ll be taking your information today.”
Ms. Thibodaux gave the hand a long look before taking it, however briefly, “I asked to speak to the agent in charge of holding up the Helga Lynch estate.”
“Yes, I’m sorry; she had to attend to some very pressing bureau business…” She sat and flipped open the notepad she brought with her, “How may I be of assistance today?”
It was obvious Vivian Thibodaux had been a ballerina in her youth; the ramrod straight posture and gray hair precisely wrapped in a tight bun at the back of her head made her position in the world clear. “I must demand you allow Helga’s estate to enter probate so my school can receive the money left to us in her will.”
Catherine smiled; she couldn’t decide whether she should be shocked or amused by the woman’s uppity attitude, “Do you understand people associated with Miss Lynch have been murdered since she passed away?”
Vivian harrumphed, “Unless you think someone murdered a one hundred and nine year old I see no reason why you should obstruct the surrogate’s court.”
For a woman in at least her seventies, Catherine noted privately, she wears an appreciable amount of makeup. “In desperate need of Helga’s money in spite of the ten million she already gave you?”
“If you know about that generous gift then you know how long ago she gave it to us. The school required extensive, costly repairs and renovations and I cannot ask our wealthier parents for more right now.” Catherine only arched her brows and she added, “As it is, more than fifty percent of our students come from disadvantaged backgrounds and attend on scholarship.”
“Really?”
“Yes, we’re still trying to obtain grant money so we can continue to provide after-school tutoring and mentorship so our girls can excel in academics when they’re not attending dance class.”
“I thought your school taught dance only.”
“I am the Matron and Executive Director of the Graham Dance Theater and School. We work very hard to give our girls a place to go after school and keep them off the streets where they would most certainly fall prey to bad habits and unsavory influences. We strive to imbue our girls with the confidence, discipline and strength of character one can only learn from the ballet.” She crossed her arms defiantly over her chest, “Only a handful of our girls go on to dance for the ABT or New York City Ballet companies, but we prepare all of them for life and the world, Miss Bernard. All my girls are the crème de la crème, and ninety-eight percent of our student body goes on to college. When Helga Lynch gave generously of her wealth, she knew was providing our girls with an opportunity to lead successful lives.” Her arms still crossed, she leaned back slightly in her seat, “So I ask, again, that the FBI remove the obstacles preventing the Surrogate’s Court from entering the Lynch estate into probate.”
“Your efforts and the work of your school are truly admirable, Miz Thibodaux.” Catherine said sincerely, “And as soon as the individuals responsible for murdering Miss Lynch’s nurse and maid have been arrested, I’m sure the surrogate’s court will proceed with probate.”
The elder woman’s eyes narrowed briefly and she sniffed, “Then I shall pray for their speedy arrests.”
Stewart promised to personally hand deliver the warrant for the red rug and the statuette to Mary and Jordan hurried to arrest Gary Tauscher. She exited the elevator and rang the bell to Helga’s twelfth floor apartment. There was no answer and she waited long seconds before knocking on the door. His endless cataloguing ended when Helga died… maybe he’s downstairs on the ninth floor. Impulsively, she tried the door, remembering when the building manager said Gary was notorious for leaving it unlocked. The handle turned, I guess old habits die hard. She entered and stood in the foyer, hands on hips, “Gary?” she called.
After a moment, the door to Gary’s office opened and he poked his head out, “Yes?” Once he saw her, he shook his head and walked into the grand hallway, “Oh, Agent Hawkins… I really have no time
for any more of this... do I need to get a lawyer to make you stop bothering me?”
“Gary Tauscher,” she said, walking towards him, “You’re under arrest for the murder of Hannah Babcock.”
His eyes grew wide and when he turned on his heel and ran down the long marble hall, Jordan took off after him. She chased him for more than a hundred feet when Mattie suddenly swung out of an open doorway, gun drawn.
“STOP!”
He skidded to a halt and raised his arms high, “I didn’t do it!” He shouted, “I didn’t! I swear!”
Jordan pulled handcuffs from her jacket pocket, “You know, running away doesn’t help your case any.” She smiled at Mattie as she handcuffed him, “Thank you, I didn’t think you were still coming here.”
“I got a text from Catherine about a red area rug and a bronze statuette?”
“Yeah, I’m getting a warrant for them.”
“Well,” she scoffed and re-holstered her weapon, “you might need a warrant, but the one I got when I first came here covers everything till the end of the year.”
“The end of the year?” Jordan snorted, “How’d you manage that?”
“For this case and all this stuff?” She shrugged, “Who knew how long it would’ve taken me to catalogue it?” She nodded at the room she had exited, “That’s one of Helga’s storage rooms…”
“Did you find the rug?”
“Not the rug,” she grinned, crooking a finger, “have a look.”
Holding Gary by the upper arm, Jordan urged him to follow her.
“I already got some pictures of it, but I left it there so Mary’s team can process it and the room again…” She held up her phone, showing the picture she took of Helga’s bedroom, “That’s what you’re looking for, right?”
Jordan squinted at the image, “Yes, a ballerina in pirouette, maybe ten or twelve inches tall?”