Mistress

Chapter 43

I run through yards and sidewalks, not breaking my pace, not wondering if anyone can see me or whether my actions seem suspicious, just racing back toward my Triumph with Jonathan Liu’s laptop tucked under my arm.

Q: Were you able to determine a manner of death for Mrs. Casper, the decedent?

A: No. The deceased sustained a fatal gunshot wound to the head. The evidence points to either homicide or suicide, but does not rule out either possibility.

Q: But can’t you examine the scene of the death and the body and determine how she died?

A: Usually. The crime scene, autopsy, toxicology, and ballistics reports usually are enough to tell the story of how someone died. But sometimes forensic pathology can be manipulated to mislead and misinform. Evidence can be warped to hide the truth.

Q: Murder can be made to look like suicide, and suicide can be made to look like murder.

A: Precisely.

I reach my bike, parked a half mile down on Albemarle Street. I zip the laptop into the satchel on the back of the Triumph and kick the bike to life. My chest is burning and sweat is dripping into my eyes, but at least now I have wheels. The sky is making noises about rain, which on a list of things I need in my life right now is just about dead last.

Q: Who discovered the body?

A: The juvenile, Benjamin, did. At least according to his father, Professor Casper. His father retained counsel for him and never allowed us to interview Benjamin.

Q: Can you describe the scene he found?

A: Her body was lying flat on the floor, with the gun resting in her left hand. There was significant blood spatter on the walls, shower curtain, floor-well, virtually everywhere. It was a fairly small bathroom, and as I’d said before, he hugged and held his mother postmortem. In doing so, the body was moved somewhat, and some of the blood spatter was disturbed.

I ride the Triumph down Connecticut, past the UDC’s Van Ness campus, my mind racing through the scenarios and wondering how I can figure this all out. C’mon, now, Ben, focus-drive slowly, observe traffic rules, and FIGURE OUT WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON-

Wait. There’s a cop across the way, idling at the light, westbound on Tilden. Take it slow, but not too slow, don’t look over too much, just cruise through the intersection-

Q: Did your bloodstain pattern analysis indicate where the decedent had been standing at the time the weapon was fired?

A: Yes. You see, a blood droplet in free fall will take the shape of a sphere. When it strikes a surface and a well-formed stain is produced, it’s easy to determine the angle at which the droplet struck the surface. If there are enough bloodstains, it’s possible to determine the location of the victim and the relative position of the weapon.

Q: And Doctor, in doing that analysis, the area of origin-in this case the exit wound-was nearly six inches lower than you would have expected based on Mrs. Casper’s height and the location of the exit wound, true?

A: That’s true.

Q: Which might lead you to conclude Mrs. Casper was crouching, leaning over, flinching-something like that?

A: It might.

Q: So it would be consistent with a murder scenario. It would be consistent with the juvenile overtaking his mother by force, placing a gun against her head, and pulling the trigger?

A: It could be.

Q: Or sneaking up on her while she was bent over?

A: Possibly.

Q: And the fact that the juvenile’s fingerprint was found on the weapon-would that not make this possibility more likely still?

A: Yes, it would.

Rain starts to fall. Shit. It’s hard enough to navigate the Triumph with electricity running through my veins and my thoughts scattered in twenty directions. I need to keep this bike upright and moving. I need to get to a hotel in one piece.

I need to find out what’s on Jonathan Liu’s laptop.

Q: Professor Casper, I know this is difficult, but please tell us how you came upon the scene in question.

A: When I got upstairs, I knew immediately something was wrong. I could see my wife sprawled out on the bathroom floor. I-I knew-I’m sorry. I just-it’s so hard-

Q: That’s okay, Professor Casper. Take your time. If you’d like a glass of water…

A: Our son, Benjamin, was bent over her, crying. His arms were tucked under her, like he was trying to hug her. He was…saying good-bye to her, I think.

Q: And where was the gun?

A: In my wife’s hand. I’m sure Benjamin didn’t do this. I’m sure he didn’t kill her. As much as I loved my wife, I have to believe she did this to herself. Please, Your Honor-don’t take away my son, too.

The rain is kicking up now into a full-scale downpour. I have to get off the road. I can’t think straight right now and I can’t afford-

Wait, Calvert Street, the Omni hotel-do I have time to turn?

I make a late right turn, my top-of-the-line wheels doing their best-

But I got too greedy. The bike flies out from under me, skidding across the slick intersection and crashing into a light pole.

I’m not doing so well, either. I slide about ten feet on my right side. My leg is going to need some work. But no broken bones. At least I wore my helmet. A lesson to all you kids out there.

The intersection is empty this time of night. Good for me. More good news: the bike stayed in one piece, too, I notice as I get her upright.

The bad part?

The screen on Jonathan Liu’s laptop is splintered into pieces.