They reached King’s car.
“I’m going to walk over to Eddie’s studio,” said Michelle.
“I’m going to find Sally and see if she’ll be a little more cooperative than her employer. I’ll join you at Eddie’s after I’m done.”
“What do you think Sally will tell you?”
“I’m tired of getting stonewalled on this case,” he said, biting out the words. “So she better have a damn good explanation of why she was praying in front of Junior’s grave.”
“Sean King, did you know you’re very sexy when you get mad?”
“So they tell me,” King said as he marched off to corral the young horsewoman.
Chapter 57
King saw a horse and rider coming toward him. However, it was Savannah, not Sally, astride a large gelding with two white-mottled forelegs.
She pulled up next to him and dismounted. She wore jeans, riding boots and a corduroy jacket.
“Beautiful day for a ride,” he said.
“I can saddle you a mount.”
“I haven’t ridden in a while.”
“Come on, it’s like riding a bike.”
He motioned to his jacket and dress slacks. “I’m not really dressed for it. How about a rain check?”
“Okay, sure,” she said, obviously doubtful he’d ever cash in.
“I’m not just saying that, Savannah. I mean it.”
“Okay. Are you here to see my mother?”
“Already did. Unfortunately, it was a short interview.”
Savannah couldn’t suppress a smile. “And you’re surprised?”
“No, I guess I’m an optimist.” He looked around. “Have you seen Sally?”
“She’s in the stables over there,” Savannah said, pointing over King’s left shoulder. “Why?”
“Just wondering.”
She looked at him suspiciously but then shrugged. “Thanks for spending some time with me after the funeral.”
“It was my pleasure. I know how tough things have been for you.”
“I think they’re going to get tougher. That FBI agent was here again.”
“Chip Bailey? What did he want?”
“He wanted to know where I was when Daddy was killed.”
“That’s a pretty standard question. And what did you tell him?”
“That I was at home in my room. No one saw me, at least that I know of. I guess I fell asleep, because I didn’t hear my mother come in. I didn’t even find out Daddy had died until the following morning.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t come and get you when she got the call.”
“My bedroom’s on the second floor, all the way at the other end of the house from hers. And I’ve, well, I’ve been going out nights and not getting back until late. She might have thought I was out and didn’t bother to check.”
“I see. You don’t want to burn the midnight oil too much; it’s bad for your complexion.”
“I figure I might as well do it while I have the energy. I have a lot of years to be dull and boring.”
“I don’t think anyone would ever describe you in those terms. Made any decisions for the future?”
“I got a job offer from a big petrochemical company to be a field engineer. The assignment is overseas. I’m thinking about it.”
“Well, you’d be, without a doubt, the prettiest field engineer anyone’s ever seen.”
“You keep talking that way, I might start to think you have intentions.”
“I don’t think I could keep up with you.”
“You might surprise yourself, Mr. King.”
As Savannah rode off, King’s gaze followed her. He’d forgotten her particular talent: chemical engineering. And she, like many others in this bizarre case, had no alibi for the time her father was killed. And yet that was only one death and one killer. What was the other murderer doing right now? Seeking to add to his list of victims?
He found Sally in the stables mucking the stalls.
She leaned on her shovel and wiped the sweat off her brow.
“I see Savannah’s back to riding,” said King.
She looked at her shovel. “Never seen her doing this part of the job, though.”
King decided to get right down to it. “I saw you at the funeral.”
“Mr. Battle had a lot of friends. There sure were tons of people there.”
“No, I meant Junior Deaver’s funeral.”
Sally froze. “Junior Deaver?” she said cautiously.
“Unless you have an identical twin, you were praying over his grave.”
Sally started mucking again while King studied her.
“You can tell me or the FBI, it’s up to you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sean. Why would I be praying over Junior’s grave? Like I told you, I hardly knew the man.”
“That’s what I came here to ask you, because you obviously did know him.”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
“Are you sure you want to do it this way?”
“I’ve got a lot of work to get done today.”
“Fine, it’s your call. Do you know a good lawyer?”
Sally stopped shoveling and looked at him fearfully. “What would I need with a lawyer? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
King took the shovel from her and set it aside. Then he drew very close, backing Sally up to one of the horse stall gates. “Let me make this as clear as I can. If you knowingly have material information about either Junior Deaver’s murder or the burglary and you fail to come forward to the authorities, that’s a crime punishable by imprisonment. And if you’re charged with that crime, you’re going to need a lawyer. If you don’t have one, I can recommend several good ones.”
Sally looked like she was a second away from bursting into tears.
“I don’t know anything, Sean, I don’t!” she wailed.
“Then you have absolutely nothing to worry about. But if you’re lying to me, you could go to prison.” He handed her back the shovel. “And while they don’t have horses there, they do have lots of shit. Of the human variety,” he added.
He pulled out one of his business cards and stuck it in the sweatband of her hat. “So when you think it through and realize I’m right, call me. I can help.”
As he walked off, Sally took out the card and looked at it, an expression of helplessness on her features.
Chapter 58
Eddie’s studio was in a two-story converted barn in the rear of the carriage house property. Michelle walked in the side door and called out, “Eddie?”
The place had been substantially remodeled inside. There were windows running along the second story and a skylight to give necessary illumination to the artist; worktables, easels and buckets of paintbrushes and other tools were neatly arranged. Large and small canvases in various stages of completion hung on the walls. The smells of oils and turpentine were heavy in the air. Stairs went up to a second-floor landing, where there appeared to be a small windowless room with a door.
“Eddie?” she called out again as she examined some of the works on the wall. The portraits and landscapes were done with meticulous attention to detail. There was one almost finished scene of a Civil War battle that, to Michelle’s admittedly inexperienced eye, should have been hanging in a museum.
On another wall were a number of objects neatly hung and labeled. They appeared to be assorted memorabilia from Eddie’s reenactment hobby.
She turned when she heard feet clattering down the stairs. Eddie had on an artist’s smock, the front of which was smeared with blue paint, and his hair was charmingly disheveled. Under his arm he was carrying what looked to be a small canvas. It was covered with a cloth.
“Hey, I was just finishing something up,” he said.
Michelle pointed to the paintings. “I’m no expert, but I never expected to see this level of work.”
He waved off her comment, but his smile betrayed how much it had pleased him. “Technically, I’m ri
ght up there, I think. But the really great artists have something—I don’t think anyone can really quantify it—that I don’t. But that’s okay. I’m happy with what I do have, and so are my clients.” He took the piece he was carrying and set it up on an empty easel but did not uncover it.
“So, any luck with Mom?”
“When your mother doesn’t want to do something, you might as well try moving a mountain. But we’ll keep trying. What is it?”
Eddie had turned to her with a broad smile. “Okay, close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Just close your eyes.”
Michelle hesitated and then did as he asked.
“Okay, now open them.”
When she did, she was staring at herself, at least a version of herself on the canvas, wearing the ball gown from the reenactment. Michelle approached the canvas and studied it closely before turning to Eddie in amazement.
“That’s why I wanted the Polaroid of you,” he explained.
“It’s beautiful. How did you do it so fast?”
“Worked on it all night. With the proper motivation a person can accomplish anything. But it doesn’t do you justice, Michelle, it really doesn’t.” He wrapped it up with brown paper and masking tape. “You can take it with you.”
“But why did you paint me?”
“You spent all day watching me play soldier, it was the least I could do.”
“I enjoyed watching; it wasn’t a burden.”
“I still appreciate it.”
She touched the wrapped painting. “And I appreciate this.”
She gave him a hug and was surprised at how tightly he squeezed her; how strong he was. And she squeezed back. For one long moment their bodies were compressed together. He smelled of paint and sweat and something else, something intensely male. Her hands lightly traced the hard muscles of his back and shoulders. She didn’t want to let go, but she finally drew back from him, her gaze downcast.
He cupped his hand under her chin and raised it. “Look, I know this is probably getting a little awkward for you. I’m not throwing myself at you. You’re not going to wake up tomorrow and find a new car in your driveway. But—”
“Eddie—,” she began, but he held up his hand.
“But it’s just nice to have a friend is what I’m saying.”
“I’d think you’d have lots of those, both men and women.”
“I’m more of a loner really. I paint and I fight in pretend battles.”
“And you do them both extremely well,” she said.
“Yes, you do,” said another voice.
They looked over as King came walking in.
“Hey, Eddie,” he said.
The men shook hands while Michelle looked on self-consciously.
King glanced around at the art on the walls. “You’ve really got a tremendous eye.”
“You sure my mother didn’t pay you to say that?”
King looked at the wall of Civil War memorabilia. “An interesting collection.”
“One of my few hobbies.” He grinned at Michelle. “You know, Sean, we need to get you into reenactments. I can see you up on a sturdy steed charging right into the teeth of a Union battery, sleeping with the mosquitoes and eating hardtack until your arteries pop.”
King glanced at Michelle and smiled. “The day you see that is the day the sky falls and kills us all,” he said, paraphrasing Michelle’s response to Lulu’s pole-dancing offer.
Eddie was about to say something when King’s cell phone rang. He answered it, listened and then clicked off, his features very troubled.
“That was Sylvia. Kyle Montgomery’s been found dead.”
“What!” exclaimed Michelle.
“Who’s Kyle Montgomery?” asked Eddie, bewildered.
“Sylvia Diaz’s assistant,” answered Michelle. “Was he murdered?”
“Sylvia’s not sure. She said it looks right now like a drug overdose, but she’s not convinced. She wants us to meet her at Kyle’s apartment. Todd’s there too.”
The two hustled out. Michelle called back over her shoulder, “Eddie, I’ll give you a call. Thanks.”
As they exited the building, Eddie looked at the wrapped portrait. “But you forgot your paint—” They were already out of earshot. He shrugged in disappointment and carried the painting upstairs.
Chapter 59
The forensics team had finished by the time they reached Kyle’s apartment. He was still on the bed, his lifeless eyes fixed on the ceiling of the small, dank apartment.
Sylvia was looking down at him when King touched her on the shoulder. She turned, and there were tears in her eyes. She dabbed at them with her hand and straightened up, assuming a more professional appearance.
“It’s okay, Sylvia,” said King. “You two weren’t best friends but I know it still hurts.”
She blew her nose into a tissue and nodded at the techs standing by. “You can take him.”
They placed Kyle in a body bag and carried it out.
Todd Williams came over to join them.
Michelle said, “So it was a drug overdose? We’re not looking at another serial killing?”
The chief shook his head. “No watch and no dog collar thing going on.”
King was staring at Sylvia. “But on the phone you said you weren’t sure it was a drug overdose.”
“Certainly, we found indications that it was,” she said slowly.
Williams added, “A syringe, rubber tourniquet and a needle mark on his forearm.”
Sylvia said, “We need to run tests on any residue in the syringe to see what it was. That’ll take a few days. And I’ll run toxicology on the body fluids, but we won’t know the results of those for at least two weeks.”
“You can’t tell from the autopsy what was shot into him?” asked Williams.
“Yes and no. If it was heroin, for example, which is a respiratory depressant, there might be some slight heaviness or congestion in the lungs and a foamy mucus in the airway, but it would be far from conclusive. The fact is, if he died of an overdose, the autopsy alone won’t reveal what it was for certain. We have to rely on the toxicology results for that. If it was cocaine, the tox report will pick that up. If it was heroin, 6-monoacetylmorphine, a metabolite of heroin, will be found in the body. That’s pretty conclusive proof of a heroin overdose.”
“Maybe it was a drug from your office.”
“Possible, but if the screens find 6-monoacetylmorphine in Kyle’s blood or urine and don’t find the presence of aspirin or Tylenol, that will be proof enough that it’s not a prescription opiate narcotic in his system.”
“Tylenol or aspirin?” asked Williams.
“Yes, because prescription opiates are frequently combined with those medications. That’s not the case with heroin or cocaine or other street drugs.”
“Who found him?” asked Michelle.
“I did,” said Williams. “After you called me this morning, I decided to handle it myself. I came here with a deputy. We knocked. There was no answer. His Jeep was parked in front, so we figured he was here. We called his apartment and his cell phone, but there was no answer. We didn’t have a warrant to go in, but it was suspicious enough that I went to the super’s office and got them to open it. That’s when we found him.”
“The core body temp and degree of rigor mortis suggest he’s been dead less than twelve hours,” opined Sylvia.
King checked his watch. “So sometime after midnight or so?”
“Yes.”
“And no one saw anyone enter or leave the apartment?” asked King.
“We’re still checking on that,” said Williams.
“Okay, we need to find this mystery woman at the Aphrodisiac pronto,” said King.
“I’m heading over there today,” said Williams.
“We’d like to go with you, Todd,” said King. “Can you hold off for a couple of hours and meet us there? We’ll call you.”
“I guess that won’t hurt.”
/> “When are you going to do the post, Sylvia?” asked Michelle.
“Right away. I’ve canceled my patients for the day.”
“Now that Kyle is dead, can’t you get someone to help you?” said King. “They can send someone from Richmond or Roanoke.”
“But on such short notice it won’t be right away,” said Sylvia.
“But if he did die of an overdose, it won’t matter. You said you won’t have confirmation for a couple of weeks,” said Williams.
“But there might be other evidence that’s slowly disappearing as we speak,” said Sylvia sharply. “The body speaks to us after death, Todd, but the longer you wait, the softer the voice becomes.”
“Well, I’ll help you,” said Williams. “I need to attend the post anyway.” He added, “It’s becoming damn routine.”
As they were all walking out, King stopped Sylvia. “Are you okay?”
She looked at him with a sickened expression. “I think it’s possible Kyle committed suicide.”
“Suicide! Why?”
“He may have suspected I was on to his drug dealing.”
“But killing himself, that’s a little drastic. And the guy struck me as spineless. And there was no suicide note either.”
“Cowards kill themselves, Sean. They’re afraid to face the consequences of their actions.”
“And, what, you’re blaming yourself?”
“If it was suicide, I can think of no other reason than my suspicions.”
“That’s not fair to you, Sylvia. You didn’t ask the guy to steal drugs.”
“No, but—”
“Before you beat yourself up over this, why don’t you do the post? As good as you are, you can’t predict what happened until you do that.”
“But even the post won’t tell me if the overdose was accidental or intentional.”
“The bottom line is, it was Kyle’s choice. You had no control over it. And life is full of enough legitimate guilt without us adding the guilt of others to our burden.”
Sylvia managed a weak smile. “You’re a very wise man.”
“I’ve had lots of practice. Primarily dealing with my own stupid mistakes.”
“I’ll call you when I’m done with the post.”
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