Walk the Wire

Chapter 61

It was the perfect place to off yourself, thought Decker as they drove up to the old wooden building that was about the size of five large barns melded together. In a fenced-in area were remnants of what looked to be broken pieces of drilling equipment. Three police squad cars and Kelly’s SUV were parked by the entrance.

Yellow police tape fluttered and crackled in the stiffening breeze that heralded the storm system marching on them.

Kelly met them outside and led them into the building. In the center of the sprawling space was a late-model black Cadillac sedan with its driver’s-side door open. They eyed the hose running from the tailpipe to the rear passenger window, which was open a crack, allowing the hose to fit through.

Kelly pointed to the driver’s-side door. “We opened the door to check the body.” Decker and Jamison stepped forward.

Stuart McClellan lay across the front seat, his head on the console separating the front seats, with his feet on the floorboard. His eyes were closed, and his face was the trademark cherry red. Inhaling a tank full of exhaust fumes caused carbon monoxide atoms to piggyback on red blood cells, jettisoning oxygen atoms in the process. The cells traveled throughout the body but arrived at their destinations without the oxygen needed to keep the body functioning, resulting in both death and the cherry-red color.

“He suffocated, clearly,” noted Kelly.

Decker said, “Any signs of a struggle, defensive wounds, bruising to the body to show that he was knocked out and then placed here?”

“We haven’t done a full exam of the body, but we’ve found nothing like that,” said Kelly. “No obvious wounds and no blood. We’re going to dust for prints, of course, but we don’t expect that to yield much. The guy obviously killed himself.”

Jamison said, “There was no one else here? No security cameras to show any activity?”

“No and no,” replied Kelly. “McClellan’s had this place forever. But it’s mostly a junkyard now. No one works out here anymore. And there are no security cameras because there’s nothing of value. Hell, he probably wished someone had taken some of this junk.”

“Did he leave a note?” asked Jamison.

“Not that we found, no, but a lot of suicides don’t.”

“Does Shane know?” asked Jamison.

“I’ve left a message. I’m sure I’ll hear back.”

“When’s the last time someone saw McClellan?” asked Decker.

“He and Hugh Dawson were seen last night having dinner together at Maddie’s. Couldn’t believe that when I heard it. I mean, I don’t think those two have even shared a civil word, much less a dinner.”

“Well, McClellan owns the restaurant now. Or did,” replied Jamison.

“Come again?” said a surprised Kelly.

“Might as well tell him,” said Decker.

“Tell me what?” said Kelly.

Jamison said, “Dawson was selling all his businesses to McClellan, including the restaurant.”

“The hell you say.”

“They were probably there celebrating the deal closing,” added Jamison.

Kelly looked stunned. “Why in the world would he do that? And how did you find out?”

“We happened upon them while they were meeting,” said Jamison vaguely. “As to the reason for the sale, Dawson basically just wanted to cash in and get out. At least that’s what he told us.”

“And what about Caroline?”

“Her father said she’d be fine with it.”

Kelly looked angry. “No way in hell she’ll be fine about it. She’s worked her ass off for all this. And Maddie’s was her baby. This is going to kill her.”

This outburst surprised Jamison, and her expression showed it. She said, “Uh, I know you said you were really tight with her growing up.”

Kelly calmed, looking sheepish. “Look, any guy around here that wasn’t in love with Caroline Dawson needed to have his head examined, and I was no exception.”

“But that was high school,” said Jamison.

Kelly glanced at her. “Sometimes time doesn’t make a difference in how you feel about someone.” He suddenly refocused. “But that’s neither here nor there. So we got either a murder or a suicide here, and we need to figure out which it is.”

Decker ran his gaze over the Caddy’s interior. “Any signs that someone else was recently here? Tire marks? Another vehicle seen coming or going during the relevant times?”

“No, nothing like that. But considering everything that’s happened so far, I think we need to go slow on this. Because while it sure looks like a suicide, for the life of me I can’t imagine what his motive would be. The facts are that McClellan is rich as shit, just bought out his rival, and had this entire town in his pocket. Maybe a lifelong dream of his, for all I know. So right after completing that, and maybe, like Alex suggested, celebrating his triumph, he drives out here and sucks on a tailpipe to finish off the best day of his life? Tell me how that makes sense.”

“I agree with you,” said Decker.

“Who’s doing the post?” asked Jamison.

“The guy who came up to do Walt’s isn’t available.”

“Let me call someone in from the Bureau to do it,” said Decker.

“I appreciate that.”

Decker pulled a pair of latex gloves from his jacket pocket, slapped them on, and leaned into the Caddy. He felt one of the dead man’s arms. “He’s clearly in rigor. So roughly twelve hours or more. Ambient temp in here is average. But if he burned through a full tank of gas after he died, it might’ve gotten pretty hot in here.”

“Definitely could have sped up the rigor initiation and body decomp,” pointed out Jamison.

Kelly said, “That’s going to be important because we need to establish alibis.”

“So any idea where Hugh Dawson is?”

“You’re thinking Hugh had something to do with this?”

“If he was the last person to see McClellan before he died, I have some questions to ask the man. And the sooner the better.”