Time of Death

27

Robbie Truax was sitting at his desk with a giant green hat on. Ren paused in the middle of the floor.

This is familiar…

Robbie raised his hands. ‘Happy Ren Bryce Day!’

‘Oh my God, it is March seventeenth,’ said Ren. ‘This is officially the first year I have not known about it until the actual day. I am losing my touch.’

‘Do you want a Leprechaun hat?’

Not on any level. ‘Aw, thank you so much.’ She put it on her desk.

‘We’re all hitting Gaffney’s later.’

‘Gaffney’s is going to be mobbed.’

‘That’s never stopped you before,’ said Robbie.

Ugh. ‘True,’ said Ren. ‘I guess I could use a night of alcohol consumption. I might even wear my hat.’ She sat down at her desk. ‘I was watching this nature show last night, about the plover bird and the crocodile. Did you see it?’ Robbie shook his head, making the green hat wobble. ‘They have this weird symbiosis. The crocodile opens its jaws and lets the plover bird fly in. The plover bird pecks at the food caught in the crocodile’s teeth. It’s like a fly-thru takeaway dentistry thing…that could be fatal.’

‘Only if you’re the bird,’ said Robbie.

‘What is it with you and crocodiles?’ said Colin, looking up. ‘Last time it was pedophiles are like crocodiles because they haven’t changed since the dawn of time…’

Ren turned on him. ‘Listen, you — you’re either in a conversation or you’re not. Just keep your eyes on your frickin’ screen. You can’t just listen in, then look up every now and then like some little old lady from her knitting.’ She addressed Robbie, but spoke a little louder. ‘So there’s symbiosis,’ she said, ‘and antibiosis. Where two things in close proximity — work colleagues for example — have a relationship where one of them does not benefit at all.’

‘Yeah?’ said Colin. ‘I know which is which.’

‘Does the plover bird not get nervous?’ said Robbie.

‘I can think of easier ways of getting food without picking it out of a crocodile’s teeth,’ said Ren. ‘Think about it — every meal would be stressful. It would be like a first date every time.’ She paused. ‘But I guess if you’re already in his mouth, that would take some of the pressure off later…’

Colin looked up.

‘All right, all right,’ said Ren. ‘What’s with you giving me the skank eye? Since when did you get all Holy Mary?’ She paused. She smiled slowly. ‘Oh. My. God. Robbie — Colin Grabien has a lady friend.’

Colin went red.

‘Look at you,’ said Ren.

Colin smiled despite himself.

‘Wow,’ said Ren.

‘That’s great,’ said Robbie.

‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘I must pick her brain. What is the best way to go from a standing position to upside-down on the pole without losing any of the money stuffed into your g-string?’

‘Yeah? You can ask her tonight,’ said Colin.

‘Ooh,’ said Ren. ‘She’s coming out? I can’t wait. What’s her name? Kitty Miaow-Miaow? SINderella?’

‘Naomi,’ said Colin.

‘Nice,’ said Ren.

‘Now, shut the hell up,’ said Colin.

He has it bad. Ren adjusted her screen and dragged her keyboard closer. ‘No work-out bag!’ she said, turning to Colin. ‘That’s why you haven’t had your work-out bag every morning. You’ve been staying in bed a little longer…’

Colin completely ignored her. She opened Google and typed in Douglas Hammond. She scanned down the news reports. They all seemed to be repeating the same story.

The ninth hit was from a blog and had the headline Second Tragedy Hits Hammond Family.

What? What was the first tragedy?

The main article was on Douglas Hammond’s car accident. The fact that it was a homicide still hadn’t been released. Tragedy number one was detailed underneath in an image of a newspaper article from 1983.

Shock as Woman’s Body Found

in Everdale HomeTragedy struck the small community of Everdale yesterday morning when the body of Mrs Trudie Hammond, 26, was discovered by her husband, Douglas Hammond, 28. Mr Hammond, a lawyer, had left the family home at 8 a.m. but returned later that morning to find his wife brutally slain. Their two-year-old daughter, Mia, was found, unharmed, in her crib. Neighbors expressed shock and sadness at the death of the young mother.

There were two black-and-white photos — one of a perfect street marred by squad cars and crime-scene tape. The other was a head and shoulders shot of Trudie Hammond. She had shoulder-length feathery hair, over-plucked eyebrows and thick mascara on long lashes. She had thin but pretty lips and a warm, friendly smile.

Ren scanned through the piece again. It was a preliminary news report; light on details, simplified, tired phrases.

What was the full story?

Ren read through the later articles, they had only a little more information. Hammond had been a lawyer, so if anyone was able to keep the details out of the press, it would have been him. And if they were particularly gruesome, he would want to save that little two-year-old girl from any future pain.

Trudie Hammond’s killer had never been found.

Ren dialed Glenn Buddy.

‘Hey, Glenn. It’s Ren. A propos nothing, did you find any prior connection between Helen Wheeler and Douglas Hammond?’

‘No,’ said Glenn. ‘Nothing.’

‘She wasn’t an expert witness in his courtroom or anything?’

‘No.’

‘Under a maiden name?’

‘We’ve gone through all her last names,’ said Glenn.

‘All?’

‘Three.’

‘Wow,’ said Ren. ‘Divorced?’

‘Widowed,’ said Glenn. ‘Divorced by two.’

‘She doesn’t seem the type.’ I should know this information if she’s my ‘friend’. ‘She didn’t talk about it much.’

‘Why would she?’

‘How come the three husbands didn’t make it into the papers?’

‘Well, not in the news reports,’ said Glenn. ‘But probably in some future special double-page feature on the attractive murdered psychiatrist from next-door-to-the wrong side of town.’

‘Could Helen have just walked in on a deal in that parking lot behind her office?’ You’re grasping.

‘Anyone dealing by her office would know her,’ said Glenn. ‘And know to avoid her. She obviously turned a blind eye.’

‘I doubt she’d turn a blind eye,’ said Ren. ‘It was probably that they just did their business when she had closed up for the evening. Did anyone round up some of these dirtbags to “axe” them some questions?’

‘Easier said than done.’

She paused. ‘What about Helen’s two ex-husbands? Not that dumping a body in a warehouse is particularly husbandlike…but could one of them have hired someone to kill her? Would they have any reason to? I don’t know…none of this sounds like Helen should be involved in it. I can’t get that out of my head. This is Helen Wheeler…’ She let out a breath. ‘It’s all so screwed up.’