Time of Death

16

Glenn Buddy and Cliff James must have drawn attention whenever they went out together. Cliff was six foot four, Glenn Buddy was six foot six. They both had huge guts — Glenn’s looked like it was from beer, Cliff’s looked a little softer.

Glenn had brought a sandwich and chips with him to Safe Streets, apologizing for having to eat while he was there. His sandwich was over-filled, so he had to open his mouth too wide to fit it in. He threw the chips into his mouth as if he was trying to stone his larynx. Ren tried to focus on the words, not the pictures, but her stomach was tightening.

‘OK,’ said Glenn, shifting his food to one cheek and speaking out of the corner of his mouth. ‘Here’s what we got. She was tortured…like someone was trying to get information out of her…’

Dr Helen Wheeler, attractive, intelligent psychiatrist…and suddenly she’s in a warehouse being tortured.

‘Are you sure?’ said Ren.

Glenn glanced at Cliff.

‘It’s just totally…surreal,’ said Ren. ‘It’s like a different world.’ She struggled to avoid welling up. Stay composed or they’ll keep you out of the investigation.

‘It sure is,’ said Glenn, shrugging again, taking a bite of his sandwich.

‘Was she robbed?’ said Ren. ‘Had anyone been in her office? Or her home?’

‘So far, it looks like a no to all of the above. All her keys were found with her — house, office, car.’

Ren shook her head. ‘What do you think the scenario was? Was she taken from her office?’

‘Probably in the parking lot, on the way to her car.’

‘And where was her car found? It wasn’t in the office parking lot.’

‘It was by the warehouse.’

‘And she was killed outside the warehouse? Inside?’

‘Inside.’

‘And she was beaten.’

‘Very badly. Some kind of blunt instrument was used.’

Ren had nothing to say to that. Nothing that a ripped-apart feeling inside her couldn’t express.

‘What kind of person was she?’ said Glenn.

Shit. She was a therapist: a person you knows you, while you don’t know them. ‘She was…a really good person. Very kind. Intelligent. Witty’ Got stuff out of me that no one else ever could.‘She was warm, friendly. A real lady. Dressed conservatively, spoke softly…’

‘Hardly the type to get involved with a bad crowd,’ said Cliff.

‘Yes, but don’t forget she would have had a few fruitcakes on her books,’ said Glenn.

Step away from the patients. ‘It’s easy to jump on that,’ said Ren. ‘but it seems a little…convenient.’

Cliff shifted in his seat. Glenn finished his potato chips and wrapped up the remains of his lunch. He wiped his mouth, then opened the envelope he had laid on the table.

‘Are you sure you want to see these?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ said Ren. Before your very eyes, watch how I shut myself down.

The first photo was a long shot across the warehouse parking lot — wet concrete with patches of snow dotted across it, enclosed in meters and meters of grim chain-link fencing.

The second photo was inside — a distant fully-clothed body, garishly flood-lit. Ren held her breath and turned to the next one. The corpse now had a face and a name. Helen Wheeler lay with her head turned toward the wall, her blonde hair obscuring her features, her chest torn apart. Too much red. Ren slowly released her breath. She moved through the rest of the photos. Helen had a broken nose. Her eyes were black. An earring had been ripped from her ear. Ren could see the missing fingernails and broken fingers.

What happened to you?

Ren sat back in her chair, staring at the ceiling, letting tears well briefly in her eyes but travel no further.

Focus.

‘OK,’ said Ren, ‘is the warehouse operational?’

Glenn shook his head. ‘It hasn’t been used since the DNC.’

‘What was security like?’ said Cliff.

‘There’s a swipe-card system,’ said Glenn.

‘And did someone use a swipe card?’ said Ren.

‘Yup,’ said Glenn. ‘The former head of security is being called in as we speak.’

‘Any cameras?’ said Ren.

‘Yes,’ said Glenn, ‘out of commission. The place is empty, they figure who’s going to go in there in March, in the snow. It’s not like it’s particularly convenient-’

‘Huge isolated space where no one will hear your screams or find your body?’ said Ren. ‘Hey, who did find the body?’

‘Our guys,’ said Glenn. ‘A former client from out of town had showed up at the warehouse early this morning, tried to use his swipe card and it didn’t work. He calls an old friend who worked there. The friend tells him the warehouse has been shut down for months. And the out-of-town guy goes, “Well, there’s a whole lot of tire tracks here that are telling me otherwise.” And that’s when we got the call. We had to cut through the fence.’

‘Has this out-of-towner been run through the databases?’ Ren was leaning forward in her seat. Glenn was slowly leaning back.

‘Everyone to do with the place is going to be checked out.’

‘I know…I know…’ said Ren. ‘Let us know what we can do on that score.’

‘So the swipe-card thing,’ said Cliff. ‘Who’s that ruling in or out?’

‘All the employees of the company, past and present. I guess certain clients would have them. Security staff. Maintenance staff…’

‘Did the security system record what time the place was accessed?’ said Cliff.

‘The security guy will check all that on the system,’ said Glenn. ‘He’s not a happy man. And neither is his boss. If they don’t come up with every bit of information we need, they’re in the shit. And if it turns out they didn’t carry out adequate background checks on their staff…’

‘What about the rest of the streets nearby?’ said Ren. ‘Any TV from anywhere else?’

‘We’ll wait and see,’ said Glenn. He glanced at his watch. ‘I need to head back. I’ve got a press conference at three.’

‘Then you better swap ties with me,’ said Cliff.

Glenn glanced down at the grease stain on his. ‘Shit. Thanks.’

‘I’ll leave you guys to it,’ said Ren.

‘Hey’ said Cliff. ‘Did Wheeler have a…significant other?’

I hate that expression. And I should know the answer.

‘Yes,’ said Glenn. ‘She did. Peter Everett.’

‘Who’s he?’ said Ren.

‘The former husband of Lucinda Kerr…’ said Cliff.

‘And who is she?’ said Ren.

‘Socialite — comes from one of Denver’s wealthiest families. The Kerrs own half the city.’

‘How do I not know that?’ said Ren.

‘Probably because you’re not the person who owns the other half,’ said Glenn.

I’m not sure I get that.

‘The Kerrs are low and high profile at the same time,’ said Cliff. ‘People know the name, but don’t know much about them.’

‘And…do we know what kind of guy this Peter Everett is?’ said Ren.

‘Rich in his own right, well respected. Humanitarian type.’ Cliff shrugged. ‘That’s all I know. Oh, and they weren’t together long — six, maybe seven months.’

‘He’s at the station right now,’ said Glenn. ‘Apparently, he’s a wreck.’

I know how he feels.

Ren went back into the office. Robbie was sitting with a stack of files in front of him.

‘It’s probably a bad time,’ he said, patting them. ‘These are the files from Summit County on the Gavino Val Pando bar raid.

‘No — go ahead,’ said Ren.

‘OK, I had a look through them. There were four girls in the bar the night of the raid — two were seventeen years old, two were nineteen. They’re all from Denver. They were on vacation in Breckenridge and took a bus to the Brockton Filly. I spoke to them, got them to take a look at a photo of Gavino — nothing. They didn’t even remember him. But I figured, teenage girls…who knows what they’ll lie about. And right now, who wants to tell Daddy she’s been with a guy whose mom’s on the Most Wanted List. So…I called the Brockton Filly and spoke with Billy Waites.’

You what? Billy Waites, bar owner, confidential informant, former lover…who will now think I was too chickenshit to get in touch with him myself? I told you to contact Sheriff Bob Gage. No one else. Sweet Jesus, Robbie.

Ren’s face kept its composure, but the rest of her was gone.

‘Turns out Mr Waites still has the security tape,’ said Robbie. ‘Because of the raid on his bar that night, he held on to it. And…well, he doesn’t exactly trust the police, so I think he keeps his cameras rolling all the time.’

Hopefully not after hours…

‘Excellent.’ Absolutely fucking fantastic.‘Do you have the tape?’

‘It should arrive tomorrow,’ said Robbie. ‘Do you want me to go through it?’

‘Yes, I will too.’ Let’s just layer on the emotional trauma.