The Butterfly Forest

FIFTY-THREE

Detective Ed Sandberg was waiting in Sheriff Clayton’s office when the receptionist said Clayton would see me. The sheriff sat behind a large wooden desk. Neatly stacked piles of paper and case folders covering half the desk. Behind him were framed certificates and photos of members of congress, a former governor, a Florida Supreme Court judge and former President George W. Bush.

Detective Sandberg was seated to the left of the sheriff’s desk.

“What do you have O’Brien?” the sheriff asked, his voice clipped. “News media are crawling all over this damn building. I’m meeting with the DA at 1:30.”

“These came from Molly Monroe’s camera, the week she and her boyfriend were scouting the forest for a place to release butterflies. The images were shot before Frank Soto jumped Molly and her mother in the Walmart lot.” I opened my folder and spread the photos in front of the sheriff. He put on glasses and studied each one, grunting once as he passed the pictures to Detective Sandberg.

I said, “That’s Frank Soto to the right. I don’t have an ID on the guy near him.”

“It could be Palmer,” Detective Sandberg said.

“Don’t think so. Here’s why.” I slid the close-up photo of the man’s mid-section. “The guy in the picture is wearing a wedding band and a wristwatch. Palmer certainly isn’t married, and he has no watch.”

“How do you know?” the sheriff asked.

“I remember looking at his hands when he came out of the river.”

“Is that right?”

“Sheriff, look behind the men in the photo next to you. See the marijuana plants I told you about on the phone? I think that’s the reason Molly and Mark were killed. The perps thought she’d snapped pictures of their pot operation. They wanted to stop her.”

Sandberg nodded. “Major pot farmers don’t play around. They usually have the grunts tending the crops while they’re away in some penthouse. These guys will do anything to protect a big field, including setting booby traps and, of course, murder.”

The sheriff turned to Sandberg. “Get a chopper in the sky. Do recon aerials over the forest. See if we can spot this field. Take a ground crew and fan out in all directions from where we found the bodies. Okay, O’Brien, we’ll give it a go. See what we can find, but I’m telling you that Palmer is involved in all this. He’s bad news.”

“That’s a possibility.”

“It’s a damn probably. Look, we found the deer blood on Palmer’s clothes. Matches the blood from the deer in the grave. If he didn’t shoot them, he buried them.”

“In questioning, how did he say the blood got on his clothes?”

The sheriff stood, picked at a hangnail, his eyes distant. “Palmer tells us he heard shots. A few minutes later says he saw a wounded deer deep in the woods. Said he was going to slip up on the deer, slit its throat and cook some of the meat.”

“You don’t believe him?”

“Why should we? Look at the physical evidence. With his connection to the first murder, I believe he was involved in the last two.”

“When you dug the bullet out of the tree, what did you find?”

Detective Sandberg said, “.30-.30 caliber.”

“Did you find a bullet in the deer?”

“No. It’s the same with Molly and Mark because the bullets had exited them.”

“But did it exit the deer?”

The sheriff folded his arms. “I see what you’re driving at, O’Brien. The ME did thorough autopsies on the college kids. He also looked at the deer carcass.”

“And he couldn’t find the bullet.”

“No,” said Detective Sandberg.

Sheriff Clayton’s chest swelled. He pursed his dry lips. “Ed, go on and hit the forest with a team. Lemme know if you find something. I’ll keep my 1:30 with the DA. Palmer will get a hearing, but I’m sure he’ll never make bond. Bet after all those years in prison, he doesn’t have too many friends who’d help him.”

I said, “When do you expect DNA results on the cigar found in the grave?”

“We have an extreme rush on it,” said Sandberg.

“Sheriff, I’d like to see speak with Palmer.”

“I understand you worked homicide at one time, O’Brien, but Ed and a half dozen other detectives have spent hours with that guy. What’s the point?”

“I’m about to attend Molly Monroe’s funeral. I’d like to know if the man you believe buried her with a deer carcass is responsible for putting her in that grave.”