The Edge

Chapter 44

Devine drove to the police station to find Harper out but Fuss in her office.

She eyed him inscrutably as he sat down across from the woman. “I spoke with Mildred. Understand you came by.”

“I did,” said Devine evenly.

“I also understand that some evidence went missing.”

“Evidence does go missing,” said Devine, looking at her. “For various reasons.”

“Let’s cut the shit, Devine. I saw the logbook and so did you.”

“Never said otherwise.”

“There is no way Chief Harper took that rape kit back then.”

“Again, I never said he did.” Before she could respond he said, “What about the fire that killed Steve and Valerie Palmer?”

Fuss’s eyebrows nearly folded over each other. “What?”

“The Palmer fire.”

“Yes, I know about it, though I wasn’t on the force then. But I remember it was an accident.”

“You mean that was the official finding?”

“That was what happened,” barked Fuss.

“Look, I’m just thinking things through. Hear me out. They find Alex right after she was raped, and then the Palmers die three days later. Quite a coincidence.”

“Apples and oranges. If I recall correctly, it was a faulty portable heater. Happened all the time back then. My cousin is a volunteer firefighter. He said they’re still one of the leading causes of fire in the winter.”

“I’m sure.”

“No, I’m not sure you are sure,” she exclaimed.

“Heard from the ME on the post yet?” he asked, deciding to change the subject.

“That’s where the chief is, attending it.”

Devine rose, looking angry. “And I wasn’t invited why?”

“Because it’s a probable suicide unrelated to the case you’re up here investigating.”

She sounded like she was reading from a script, thought Devine.

“That’s bullshit. He found the body of the murder victim I’m up here investigating. Are they still doing the post at the funeral home?”

“Yes, but—”

He was out the door before she could finish the sentence.

Minutes later Devine hurried into the funeral home, grabbed someone who worked there, flashed his creds at them, and fast-walked to the room set at the back of the building where he had viewed Jenny’s body. He didn’t bother to knock but just burst in.

Guillaume looked up from what she was doing, which was cutting open Earl Palmer’s chest, while Chief Harper stood across from her looking slightly nauseous.

“Can anyone join the party or is it exclusive?” asked Devine with a bite to his words.

Guillaume glanced curiously at Harper. “I thought you knew,” she said.

Harper groused, “I thought I asked Wendy to let you know, but maybe I forgot.”

“She was actually under the impression that I had no reason to attend,” retorted Devine.

“Well, you’re here now, so let’s get on with it, not that it has anything to do with why you’re here,” snapped Harper. He looked at Guillaume and nodded.

For the next hour Guillaume worked over the body, dictating notes into her iPhone, which was on a magnetized stand next to her. Both Devine and Harper asked questions of her throughout the procedure.

“He wasn’t strangled and then hanged,” said Guillaume in answer to one of Devine’s queries. “As you noted before, the ligature mark is gravity-based, with no straight-line ligature marks under it. His stomach had no undigested food in it, which makes sense if he was killed early in the morning, but there were some other substances in his belly.”

“Was he on medication?” asked Devine.

She nodded. “I was his PCP. So I know he was on statins and high blood pressure meds and also some painkillers for his arthritis and other pain issues. Most people his age are on lots of meds, unfortunately.”

“But those meds didn’t kill him, right?” said Harper.

“I wouldn’t think so unless he overdosed on them. And then he would not have been able to hang himself. And there was nothing in the tissue samples that would indicate any toxins in his body.”

“There was a chair on its side right under the body,” said Harper. “He obviously put the noose up there, climbed onto the chair, and kicked it away, end of story.”

Devine didn’t believe this, but he wasn’t going to say it in front of Harper.

“But you’ll run blood work and tox screens?” he said.

Guillaume looked at Harper, who said, “All that costs money, Devine. A lot of it. And for what? The man killed himself. How else could it have happened?”

“I agree. My cause of death will be suicide,” said Guillaume.

“Good,” said Harper. “Don’t get me wrong. I liked Earl. But I also don’t need another murder in Putnam. Thanks, Doc.” He nodded curtly at Devine and left.

Devine looked down at the cut-up body as Guillaume bagged the organs in thick plastic viscera bags and placed them in the chest cavity. She had already slid Palmer’s facial skin and scalp back into place after having pulled it down to saw through the skull and remove the man’s brain. She now started to stitch up the Y-incision she had earlier made along the sternum.

“So nothing out of the ordinary then?” asked Devine.

“As you saw, I took one-inch tissue samples of his organs. Didn’t see anything unexpected, as I already said. He had heart disease, but I knew that. Although for his age it wasn’t that bad.”

“When I was with him he had a really hard time walking — he just shuffled, really.”

“You know about the spinal fusion surgery. That really limited his range of motion, as I told you before. And he had severe arthritis in both knees and hips, which caused him to have trouble walking.”

“So with all those physical limitations, you think he could have hanged himself?”

“A sudden pop of adrenaline can allow you to accomplish many things that you ordinarily would not be able to do. If Earl really wanted to kill himself, he could do it. Anyone could, really. And while he had limitations, Earl was still a big, strong man whose lifelong work had built his upper body to a remarkable degree.”

Devine nodded but remained unconvinced. He didn’t think adrenaline was the answer to this. “By the way, I saw you last night.”

She looked up at him, confused. “I know, at Earl’s.”

“No, I meant later. You were driving home and I was behind you. Wow, that is some place you have.”

“It’s not really mine,” she said quickly, looking down at her stitch work again.

“Oh, really?”

“My father built it about ten years ago.”

“Didn’t know there was that much money in funerals,” Devine said.

“Oh, there’s not, believe me. But have you heard of Warren Buffett?”

“Of course.”

“Way back when, my grandfather subscribed to his investment newsletter. Whatever Buffett invested in, so did my grandfather, every spare penny he had, and he was notoriously frugal in his personal spending. Over the decades the returns have been quite large — well, enormous, really, far more than any of us knew. When my grandfather died, my father and uncle inherited everything. My uncle retired and went off to Florida, but by father stayed here for a time and built that place. My mother was still alive back then and she was really the force behind it. You have to understand she spent most of her married life in a cramped two-bedroom rancher. When my brother and I came along, things got really tight but my father refused to buy a new house.”

“Two bedrooms? What did you and your brother do as you got older?”

“He slept in the den. I kept the bedroom. I was the oldest.” She smiled. “Anyway, that house was my mother’s revenge, as it were. She lived in it for exactly two years before she got cancer and died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. She really enjoyed those two years, let me tell you. After that my father moved to Florida to be near my uncle. My brother and I got to live in the house. And we both have trust funds set up.”

“So you really don’t have to work anymore, then?”

She sighed. “Well, that’s the catch.”

“What?”

“My grandfather set up trusts for his sons, and my father did the same thing with the house and his inheritance for me and my brother.”

“Did the same thing? I’m not following.”

“In order to inherit all that wealth my father and uncle had to work at the funeral home until age sixty-five. My father made a similar arrangement for my brother and me, although we only have to work there until age sixty. Until then we get a little money from the trust and we get to live in the house, but we have to work at the business to earn money, and I have my medical practice, of course, which, quite frankly, doesn’t generate a lot of income. And it’s not like there’s a lot of money left over. That house is expensive to keep up.”

“What happens if you leave before then?”

“The child who stays with the business until they turn sixty inherits it all. If we both leave before that then we lose the trust funds, and we can’t live in the house or get the proceeds from selling it. It would all go to charity. If we both stay, we split it.”

“You going for the duration so you can cash in?”

She looked pensive, and conflicted. “I’m not sure I can hang in there. I never had kids. And I’ve actually been thinking about relocating. To Charlotte, North Carolina. I’m tired of the cold. And that house is far too big for two people. And I don’t like the idea of my life decisions being dictated by the sole thought of gaining wealth that I had no hand in creating.”

“And your brother?”

“I think Fred actually likes running the business. So it’s not so much of a hardship for him. And in his leisure time he’s quite the outdoorsman. He likes to hike and rock-climb. And New England has a lot of places to do that. He kayaks and bikes, too.”

“He never married?”

“I think he saw my experience and swore it off.”

“That bad?”

“My ex stole all my money, left me with all his debts, and ran off with someone who I thought was my best friend.”

“Damn, I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago. I dream of running into him one day and... well, I guess I better not elaborate, considering you’re a federal agent. But it is a great deal of money at stake. So for now, I’ll continue to live in a house that is far too big, with my little brother.”

“Sort of like Jocelyn Point and Dak and Alex.”

“I never really thought of that, but you’re right. By the way, Senator Silkwell was very close friends with our family. My grandfather and father supported all of his campaigns, and the Bing name means something in Maine. I had relatives in state government, and one of my great-uncles was a long-serving congressman.”

Devine thought of something. “Was it your family that chartered a jet to bring the senator back from Washington when Alex was attacked fifteen years ago?”

“Yes. I believe it was my uncle or grandfather. How did you know about that?”

He shrugged. “Just putting two and two together.”

“We couldn’t believe that someone would attack Alex.”

“Were you here when it happened?”

“No, I was still doing my medical residency out of state.”

“Okay. Can you email me your report on Earl, with a set of pictures of the body?”

“Of course. You’ll have it straightaway.”

“I hear Charlotte is really nice. Might be worth it to give up the bucks and live your life on your own terms and not someone else’s.”

“Yes,” she said dully. “It certainly might.”

He left her there staring down at a dead body.