by Elaine Viets
It was Katie. ‘I have the final results for your search of the Bellerive estate,’ she said. ‘Can you meet me in my office at eight a.m. tomorrow?’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Can you tell me anything now?’
‘Not a peep,’ she said. ‘They’d have my head – and my job. The department is terrified of leaks. I’ll see you and Jace in the morning.’
She hung up. I saw that Chris had cleared the table. I gave him the news. ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Katie wouldn’t give me a hint.’
‘Drown your sorrows with a truffle.’
He didn’t need to ask twice. I tried one with Dutch process cocoa first.
‘So?’ he said. ‘Your verdict?’
‘It’s creamy and smooth,’ I said. ‘And it tastes nothing like an Oreo.’
I took another sip of coffee to clear the palate, then tried the truffles with chocolate sprinkles.
‘Equally good,’ I said, and reached for a pecan truffle.
‘Downright amazing.’
‘What’s your favorite?’ I asked.
‘Espresso,’ Chris said. So I tried that one, too. We’d – OK, mostly me – had gone through half a dozen truffles in about five minutes.
‘Let’s take our coffee into the living room,’ I said.
Chris looked up at the kitchen clock. ‘It’s nine o’clock,’ he said. ‘I better go.’
‘No, it’s OK. Stay and talk,’ I said.
But he was already packing the dishes he’d brought into the cooler. ‘At least let me clean those for you,’ I said. ‘You shouldn’t take home dirty dishes.’
‘Wouldn’t think of it,’ he said, adding the dirty skillet to the pile.
‘What about your truffles?’
‘They’re your truffles now,’ he said, and before I knew it, he was out the door.
As his car drove off into the spring evening, I thought, Damn. He didn’t even kiss me.
I was more confused than ever.
FIFTEEN
At eight the next morning, Jace and I were crammed into Katie’s coffin-sized office, with barely enough room to move. Once again, I drew the short straw and got stuck sitting on the wire chair, a contraption Torquemada would have coveted for his torture chamber. Jace perched on the edge of Katie’s desk.
I kept my work cell phone out. I was on call today, and hoped all the Forest denizens would stay alive until Katie finished.
I stifled a yawn – I’m not a morning person. Jace looked alert and eager, with an irritatingly sunny smile. He was ready for the results of our search warrant and expecting good news.
Katie was wired. I could feel the energy radiating from her. She wore her usual brown suit and sensible heels and couldn’t stop pacing. She’d moved her paperwork piles to the top of the filing cabinet, and had a breakfast spread for us on her desk: bagels, cream cheese, fresh fruit and hot coffee.
Jace eyed the food like a hungry teenager. ‘Is this a victory celebration?’
‘More like a consolation prize,’ Katie said. That wiped the smile off Jace’s face. He poured two cups of black coffee, and handed one to me.
‘OK, I have the final report,’ she said. ‘If you want to get it direct from the horse’s mouth, you can spend the day chasing down the experts. Or I can tell you everything at once.’
‘Go ahead,’ Jace said. The smile was back – sort of. He looked like he was facing a firing squad and trying to look brave.
Katie finally sat down behind her desk. She was in full lecture mode.
‘Jace, your warrant said you could search Briggs’s house and anywhere or anything on the property, including any outbuildings, vehicles, sheds, and storage containers.’
We nodded. I reached for a cinnamon-raisin bagel and spread it with cream cheese. The carbs would cushion the shock of what came next. I could tell Katie was warming up for an ugly surprise.
‘As I said before, Terri Gibbons, the victim I examined, was garroted with garden twine. The cause of death was manual strangulation, possibly auto-erotic. The victim was strangled with green garden string made from jute. You recovered a ball of jute string during the search.’
‘Right.’ Jace’s smile looked hopeful.
‘The string you found was a nearly new ball. It had no connection to the string used to kill the victim, except that it was the same brand. And that’s not much help, either. That string is sold in most garden stores, all Home Depots and on the internet. So anyone can buy it anywhere, any time.’
It was painful to watch Jace’s smile crumple and slide off his face. ‘I wasn’t expecting much from the string anyway,’ he said.
I suspected Jace was trying to make himself feel better. ‘But what about the death car?’ He pasted the smile back on and waited.
‘Right,’ Katie said. ‘The Range Rover that was ruined because the housekeeper left two hundred pounds of barbecue meat to rot inside it.’
‘Barbecue, my eye!’ Jace said. ‘You can’t fool a homicide detective’s nose. There was a decomposed body in that Range Rover. I could smell it.’
‘Maybe,’ Katie said. ‘But the spoiled barbecue meat contaminated the DNA results. They came back as “animal protein.” That’s what we are – animals. I suspect Bellerive used the Casey Anthony dodge.’
‘The what?’ I said.
‘Casey Anthony,’ Jace said. ‘Didn’t she kill her little girl a couple of years ago?’
‘The police and prosecutors said she did,’ Katie said. ‘She was indicted for murder and a slew of other serious charges, along with four lesser counts of providing false information.
‘Listen hard,’ Katie said. ‘This may save your ass if you’re ever accused of murder. Casey Anthony lived in Orlando, Florida. She was arrested on suspicion of killing her two-year-old girl, Caylee, and the story went worldwide. Caylee was reported missing by her grandmother, who said she hadn’t seen Caylee for a month, and her daughter would only make excuses for the toddler’s whereabouts. The grandmother told 911 that Casey’s car smelled like a dead body had been in it. The cops searched the car and used a cadaver dog, who picked up the scent of decomp in the trunk.
‘An expert said an air-test sample from the car also showed the presence of human remains in the trunk.
‘Casey went on trial for capital murder – the prosecution wanted the death penalty for this child killer. They painted her as a party girl who didn’t want a child. The experts piled in and testified that the odor in the trunk was definitely a decomposing body – Caylee’s body.
‘The jury didn’t buy the murder charges. The trial was the goatfuck of the century.’
Jace blinked at Katie’s blunt language and said, ‘The experts did seem to be stumbling all over one another.’
‘I didn’t realize she got off,’ I said. ‘What happened?’
‘Turns out there was a bag of decomposing garbage in Casey’s car trunk, and that threw off the DNA results,’ Katie said. ‘So, if you’ve been hauling bodies in your car, toss a couple of pounds of hamburger in the car trunk. Or, in Bellerive’s case, two hundred pounds of decaying barbecue meat. He moggled up the results good and proper. Your so-called death car is useless, Jace.’
Jace seemed resigned. ‘What about the clove gum?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Briggs chews it,’ Katie said. ‘But so what? It’s common. I can buy it by the case on Amazon.’
‘So we have nothing?’ Jace looked like a five-year-old who’d just heard there was no Santa Claus.
‘Have you talked to the careless housekeeper yet?’ Katie asked him. ‘The one who ruined the Range Rover?’
‘No, but I will.’ He set his cup down on the desk so hard it sloshed coffee everywhere. Katie handed him a pile of napkins and he mopped up the mess – and helped himself to a plain bagel. I fixed myself another cinnamon-raisin.
By this time, Jace’s disappointment at the news had turned to outrage. ‘Bellerive is smart, Angela. He’s taunting u
s. We’ll get him.’ He took a murderous bite out of his bagel.
I heard a soft whimpering. ‘Is that you, Jace?’ I asked.
‘No,’ he said, with his mouth full. ‘It’s coming from under the desk.’
We both looked down and saw a fat yellow puppy waddling out from under Katie’s desk. He put his big paws on my shoes.
‘He’s adorable,’ I said, picking up the pup and scratching his fuzzy ears. ‘Katie, when did you get a puppy?’ I cuddled the furball and he licked my nose with his pink tongue.
‘Yesterday. His name is Cutter,’ Katie said.
‘He’s a cute little fellow,’ Jace said. ‘What flavor?’
‘He’s a Lab-golden mix,’ Katie said. ‘Eight weeks old. I tried to leave him at home in his crate, but he cried.’
‘And you couldn’t leave him at home,’ I said.
‘He’s just been separated from his mother,’ Katie said.
I scratched the pup under the chin, and he bit my nose.
‘Ow!’ I said, more from surprise than pain.
‘What did he do?’ Katie asked.
‘He bit my beezer.’
‘Bad dog!’ Katie swatted the pup on his black nose and he whined.
‘It’s OK, Katie, he didn’t hurt me.’
‘I don’t care,’ Katie said. ‘It’s a bad habit. It has to stop.’
‘Why do you call him Cutter?’ Jace asked.
‘It’s what I do,’ Katie said.
‘You’re a lucky pup,’ I said to Cutter. ‘You could have been called Autopsy.’ The pup slurped my hand.
‘Or Slice and Dice,’ Jace said.
Katie gave Jace some serious stink eye. ‘Don’t you have a killer to catch?’
‘Uh, yeah.’ Jace took an onion bagel. He gave Cutter one last pat, and headed for the door. I started to hand Katie the pup and leave with Jace when she said, ‘Angela? May I talk to you for a minute?’
She checked to make sure that Jace was gone, then asked, ‘How was your salmon dinner with Chris?’
I couldn’t hide my surprise. ‘How did you know I had dinner with him?’
‘Hell, the whole Forest knows. The way he carried on at the Forest Meat and Fish Mart, I thought he was picking out a diamond engagement ring. I was in the line behind him. You wouldn’t believe the questions: was the salmon fresh? When did you get it? Had it been previously frozen? Farm-raised or wild caught? I had to help him pick out the fillets.
‘You didn’t answer my question. How was dinner?’ she said.
‘Fine.’ I was wary. Katie was going to grill me.
‘Only fine? A hunk like that?’
‘He’s an excellent cook,’ I said.
‘A hot guy who can cook, who’s straight and single. That’s every woman’s dream. And all you can say is he’s a good cook.’
‘He’s a very nice man,’ I said.
‘Nice! Nice is for maiden aunts and second cousins. Did you get anywhere?’
‘We ate all the salmon.’ I snuggled closer to Cutter and petted his warm fur.
Katie gently took the cuddly puppy out of my hands. Cutter whimpered. So did I.
‘That’s not what I meant. Did you jump his bones?’
‘That’s private!’ I said.
‘You didn’t, did you?’ Katie said. ‘You’re still sleeping with a dead man.’
‘I’m still in love with my late husband, if that’s what you mean.’ I sounded chillingly formal. To my great relief, my work cell phone rang. I was never so happy to take a call.
‘Jace! You need me already?’
‘I’m at the scene, Angela. It’s a doozy. Hurley Street.’ He gave me the address.
‘I’m on my way. I’ll be there in five,’ I said.
‘Gotta go,’ I told Katie. ‘Death investigation.’
I gathered up my purse, phone and another bagel. ‘Thanks,’ I said, waving goodbye with the liberated bagel.
‘You can run, Angela, but you can’t hide. You’ll have to face facts someday!’ Katie shouted as I ran out of the ME’s office.
SIXTEEN
I was called out to the unattended death of an elderly woman – an all too common occurrence in my profession. The Hurley Street address Jace gave me was a neat two-bedroom bungalow, now surrounded by two patrol cars, an unmarked and an ambulance. The neighbors were out on their lawns watching the commotion.
This was a quiet blue-collar neighborhood. Normally quiet, I should say. When I arrived at the house, I saw two women on the green lawn – one in her forties and the other somewhere past fifty – screaming and punching each other.
‘Give it to me, bitch!’ The blonde – the taller one – had a handful of the chunky brunette’s hair. She held it at the roots to make her opponent stay still – an impressive barroom fight technique – and punched her in the face. These weren’t girly punches, either. The blonde delivered real bashing blows. Both women were screeching.
Jace was trying – and failing – to break up the fight. ‘Ladies!’ he shouted over the racket. ‘Stop. Right now!’ They ignored him.
The blonde landed a right hook in the brunette’s stomach. The sturdy brunette rocked back on her heels but she stayed standing and kicked the blonde in the knee. The blonde howled in pain. Now her knee was bleeding.
Three paramedics were standing at the edge of the altercation, watching as if they’d bought tickets to see the fight. The neighbors had picked their favorite and were cheering whenever she landed a blow.
The blonde hauled off and punched her opponent in the nose. Now the brunette had blood on her flowered top. That stopped the fight for a few seconds.
Both women were gasping for breath.
When they stopped swinging, I quickly stepped between the two and elbowed them both in the ribs. In my high school days, those bony elbows cost me many penalties on the basketball court. I was pleased they were as sharp as ever.
‘Hey, watch it!’ the brunette said to me. She was still gasping for breath.
‘That’s assault, lady,’ wheezed the blonde, but she let go of the brunette’s hair. The brunette shook herself.
The blonde said, ‘Officer! Did you hear me? This woman assaulted me!’ She pointed at me.
‘It’s Detective,’ Jace said and introduced himself. ‘Assault? I didn’t see anything, ma’am. But the two of you seem to have a problem. Why don’t you both cool off? All right, people, nothing to see. Go home!’ he yelled to the crowd, which had edged to the driveway. The two uniforms, Mike and Brian, dispersed them.
Meanwhile, Jace went over to confer with the paramedics, who shook their heads and looked sad. Jace took some paperwork from them, and they drove away, emergency lights and siren off. They couldn’t revive the victim, which was why I was here.
Now that the two women were no longer tearing at each other, I got a good look at them. They were attractive opposites. The blonde was tall, slender and stylish, though bedraggled from the fight. The collar was ripped on her silk blouse, a button was torn off her jacket, and her knee was bleeding. Her nylons were in tatters.
The brunette was short and chunky with luminous skin, a pink flowered top and black pants. She had three deep scratches across her right cheek, a bloody nose, and a bruise was coming out on her forehead.
‘It’s her fault,’ the blonde said, her voice a controlled shriek. ‘She stole our mother’s ring.’
‘I did not,’ the brunette shouted. ‘I took my ring. Mother promised it to me when she died.’
‘Liar!’ the blonde said. ‘She gave it to me because I’m the oldest! You mutilated Mother’s hand to get that ring!’
‘Quiet!’ Jace shouted. ‘Or I’ll arrest you both for disturbing the peace!’
I could hear both women breathing hard. The blonde tried to put herself back together. The brunette realized that she had a torn right sleeve on her flowered top and pushed it up to hide the rip.
Jace demanded, ‘First, what are your names and how do you know each other?’
�
�I’m Shirley Davis,’ said the brunette, ‘and that blonde bitch is my sister, Ellen Tollman. My older sister.’
‘I may be older, but I look ten years younger,’ Ellen said. Actually, she spat the words. She really did. ‘I didn’t chunk up like you did!’
‘You didn’t have the stress of caring for Mother,’ Shirley said. Her pale skin was red with fury. ‘I was with her night and day. That’s why she gave me her ring. Because I took care of her. You just dropped in from time to time and played Lady Bountiful.’
‘I brought her gifts,’ Ellen said. ‘Chocolates, flowers and books. But Mother liked me because I was pleasant to be around.’
‘She gave me the ring!’ Shirley shouted.
‘When?’ Ellen said, her voice a snarl.
‘When you weren’t there. As usual. Last Thursday!’
‘Then why didn’t she take it off and hand it to you?’ Ellen screeched.
‘Because it reminded her of our father. She wanted to keep it until she died!’
‘Liar!’ Ellen cried.
‘SILENCE!’ Jace roared. I’d never seen him so furious.
Both women gulped and instantly went quiet. The brunette whimpered a bit, and dabbed at her bloody nose with a tissue.
Jace marched to a black wrought-iron table and chairs on the lawn, and pointed to Shirley, the brunette. ‘You sit here!’ he said.
He carried the other chair to the driveway, where the ambulance had been and pointed to the blonde, Ellen. ‘You sit there!’
Both women sat, but continued the searing glares at each other.
I’d been dragging my DI kit across the lawn. I set it on its side near the table and used it as a seat. Then I pulled out my iPad to take notes.
Shirley was still dabbing at her bloody nose. It was leaking slightly, but didn’t appear broken.
‘When did you last see your mother?’ Jace asked.
‘Last night,’ Shirley said. ‘I live just down the street. Four doors away. I tucked Mother in most nights. Last night, I stopped by about ten o’clock and she asked for a cup of tea. I brewed her some chamomile. She sometimes has trouble sleeping. She complained it was bitter, so I put honey in it, and talked to Mother while she drank her tea.’