Hothouse Orchid

42

Jimmy went into the kitchen and carefully searched every cabinet, the pantry and the refrigerator, then he walked back into the hallway.

Lauren was coming out of the study. “Nothing I could find in there,” she said, “except the suicide note.”

They stood back and allowed the ME and a forensics guy to wheel the corpse past on a gurney.

“I’ll be right back and give you my preliminary,” the ME said.

Hurd, Lauren and Jimmy waited in the hallway. “What did you find?” Hurd asked.

“Nothing in the study, except the suicide note,” Lauren said.

“The only thing of any significance in the kitchen was half a case of Famous Grouse Scotch and a refrigerator with at least a case of beer in it. Looks like Bruno was drinking a lot.”

“There’s half a bottle of Scotch and a glass on the bedside table,” Hurd said.

The ME returned. “All right, death was by a single gunshot wound through the mouth, apparently self-inflicted; Forensics found the slug in the pillow, and he’s taken charge of the gun, the shell casing and the slug. He’ll run ballistics on all that today. I found some Ambien, a sleeping pill, in the bathroom medicine chest, one left from a prescription of twenty-five, and there’s a booze bottle by the bed, so my guess is I’ll find both of those things in the stomach contents.”

“Can you do the Bruno autopsy first, before the woman victim?” Hurd asked.

“If you like.”

“Call me when you’re done,” Hurd said.

“Call me, too,” Jimmy added. The ME left.

“Okay, time for the bedroom,” Hurd said. “Lauren, you can wait in the living room; Jimmy, with me.” He led the way into the bedroom.

“I’ll take the chest of drawers,” Jimmy said.

“All right.”

Jimmy began opening drawers and emptying the contents of each, one at a time, on top of the chest, returning them to the drawer after his search. He was on the bottom drawer when Hurd, who was searching the closet, spoke up.

“Jimmy, I’ve got something here,” he said. “Lauren, come in here!” he yelled.

Lauren came to the door. “I don’t want to come in there.”

“Get your ass in here,” Hurd said quietly. “I want you to witness this.” He set an open shoe box on the bed. “I found this on the closet shelf.”

Jimmy and Lauren came in close and watched.

“Give me an evidence bag,” Hurd said. “No, two, and big ones.”

Lauren opened her large purse and produced the plastic bags.

“We’ve got two, four, six pairs of women’s panties,” Hurd said, dropping them one at a time into an evidence bag. “We’ll want DNA from those.” He held up something the size of a staple gun with a small bottle attached to it. “And we’ve got a vaccination gun with a chemical attached.” He dropped it into the second bag, then emptied the shoe box onto the bed. “Nothing else but some old photographs,” Hurd said, poking through them. Finally, he returned them to the shoe box and replaced the cover.

“Ten to one, that’s a Rohypnol solution in the plastic bottle attached to the gun,” Lauren said.

“Right,” Hurd said. “Jimmy, we’re going to take charge of this evidence. We’ll log in everything, then photograph it all, test the panties for DNA matches with the victims, check the serial number on the vaccination gun against hospital records, then, since you’re the lead investigator, return it all to you to lock up in your evidence room.”

“That’s fine with me, Hurd,” Jimmy said.

Hurd took a small evidence bag from his pocket. “I’ll bag the suicide note. I think we’re done here for the moment.”

“Hurd,” Jimmy said, “We should get out a press release at some point.”

“Let’s wait for the autopsy, the ballistics and the DNA tests to be completed,” Hurd said. “I’ll write something up and fax it to you for your approval before I release it.”

“All right,” Jimmy said.

“One more thing,” Hurd said. “You’ve both seen everything I’ve seen. Did either of you find any indication that this might be a homicide, instead of a suicide?”

“No,” Lauren said.

“Me, neither,” Jimmy added. “It all seems straightforward.”

“Okay,” Hurd said, “the letter gives us his guilty conscience over the murders as a motive for suicide; he apparently took Ambien and booze, then shot himself with his service pistol. The women’s underwear and the vaccination gun are corroborating evidence. Anything to add?”

“No,” Lauren said.

“No,” Jimmy said.

“God,” Hurd said. “We might have just saved that last woman’s life, if we’d gotten to that tire recycling plant in time.”

“We did everything we could, Hurd,” Lauren said. “It was the delay in getting the search warrant that made us late, so the fault lies with the judge, if anybody, certainly not with us.”

“I guess you’re right,” Hurd said. “Lauren, post some do-not-enter notices on the front and rear doors, and let’s get out of here.”

Jimmy drove back to police headquarters. The watch was changing, so most of the force roster was in the squad room.

“Let me have your attention,” he shouted. Everybody got quiet. “The information I’m about to give you is not for public consumption until you read it in the papers or see it on TV. Everybody got that?”

There were murmurs of assent.

“A couple of hours ago I was at a crime scene out at Orchid Island, where another female victim was found, left in a sand trap. While I was there, Gladys called me and told me the chief was an hour late for a meeting and he wasn’t answering his phones, and she asked me to go to his house and see if he was all right.

“I found the chief lying in bed, dead, with his Glock on the floor beside him. I summoned the ME and a rep from Forensics and Hurd Wallace and Lauren Cade, too. We found a suicide note, and Hurd found a box of stuff on a closet shelf that included half a dozen pairs of women’s panties and a vaccination gun, like the one stolen from the hospital. It appears from the available evidence that the chief was the murderer of all these women who have been found dead lately.”

Everybody started to talk at once.

“Quiet!” Jimmy said. “Like I said before, this is not for public consumption until it hits the papers. The chief never appointed a deputy chief, so for the moment, because I’m the senior officer here, I’m acting chief until the city council does something official. They’ve already been notified of what’s happened.

“I don’t want to answer any questions right now. You’ve been told everything I know, so let’s get on with the watch change and start doing our jobs again. Thank you.”

Jimmy walked back to Bruno’s office. “Gladys,” he called, “please come in here. I’m going to search the chief’s office, and I want a witness.”

Gladys came in and stood by the door. Jimmy searched the desk and the cupboards and didn’t find anything relevant to the murders, except a nearly empty bottle of Famous Grouse Scotch in a bottom desk drawer.

“Thank you, Gladys. That’s it,” Jimmy said. “Please close the door behind you.”

Gladys left, and Jimmy sat down behind Bruno’s desk. He was the chief now, by God, and Bruno was dead, with all the murders hung around his neck. The suicide note was a fake, and he figured Lauren Cade or Holly Barker for having shot Bruno, but he wasn’t about to pursue that. This was the best day of his life.