Big Sick Heart: A Detectives Seagate and Miner Mystery (5 page)

“Trust me on this. I’ve dated some older guys,”
Robin said.

“That’s your evidence?” I said.

“No,” Robin said, breaking into a smile. “Just
messin’ with you. Seriously, there are data correlating potency and ejaculate
levels of men at different ages and levels of fitness.”

“Really?” I said.

“Yeah, it’s true. I looked it up. Plus,” she said,
brushing a strand of green hair back behind her ear, “I’ve dated some older
guys.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” I said, shaking my head.
“You said the sperm count looked low.”

“Yeah, I can’t draw any hard conclusions, because
maybe we’re looking at an atypical sample of the ejaculate, but if the sample
is representative, it should be two-to-five percent sperm. I’m seeing less than
one percent. In other words, I think we’re looking at geezer cum here.”

“Did I mention you’re a lovely young lady?” I
said.

“I think you did, but I never tire of hearing it,
Detective. I’ve always tried to be,” Robin said with a smile.

Ryan said, “You know, we’re assuming the semen is
Arlen Hagerty’s. It doesn’t have to be.”

“I’m on it, Ryan,” Robin said. “I grabbed a cheek
swab and a couple of strands of hair before Harold bagged him. I’m running the
DNA to make sure it’s him.”

“Of course,” I said, “we’re also assuming the
towels were clean when Hagerty used them, right?”

Ryan said, “I’m pretty sure the towels were clean.
They wash them at temperatures over one fifty. I doubt if any biologicals would
have survived that.”

Robin said, “Karen, are you saying maybe the
towels were from whoever had the room before, and Housekeeping didn’t change
them?”

“Yeah, maybe the day before, another old goat
pumped a load of geezer cum into the towel after watching some pay-per-view,
you know, maybe some donkey-on-girl action, but he was ashamed, so he put the
towel back nice and neat, then along comes Hagerty, after a long car ride, and
he washes his face, grabs that towel off the rack, and rubs the cum all over
his face.”

Robin said, “That’s kinda disgusting, Karen.”

“Am I grossing you out?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Excellent,” I said, extending my palms as if that
wasn’t that difficult.

“Okay, girls,” Ryan said. “If we can get back to
the case, just for a moment.”

I let out a chuckle and said, “Okay, Robin, tell
me what you’ve got on the hotel room.”

“There were no signs of forced entry on the door.
The door locks automatically when you leave the room. And the lock is working
correctly.”

“And the windows that open?” Ryan said.

“The windows on either side of the big window
crank open, and they’re ten inches wide. But unless you remove the panes
themselves—which there was no evidence of—the opening is less than seven
inches. And it’d be really hard to climb up to the second floor, with no
terraces or anything. I’m not saying it couldn’t be done, but the person would
have to be real small and real athletic.”

“Okay,” I said. “So we’re assuming the killer
either had a key or Hagerty let him in.”

“Have we ruled out the killer was already in the
room when Hagerty came in?” Ryan said.

“We can’t rule that out,” Robin said. “With that
carpet not showing any footprints, plus it’s a hotel and it’s got all kinds of
shit in it anyway, we can’t be sure the killer wasn’t already there. But
there’s no evidence in the bathroom or the closet, which are the only two
places he could hide so Hagerty would get inside the room without seeing him,
that there was anyone inside.”

“All right, Robin,” I said. “You got anything else
for us?”

“Not at the moment. I’ll keep looking to see if I
can pull anything else off the towels or the sheets to help us identify whoever
he was banging. Not sure the drain’s gonna do us any good, since the
biologicals in there could be from days ago. I already did a quick check of the
vacuum cleaner bag; nothing fun like an earring or anything like that. But I’ll
keep going and let you know later today.”

“Okay, thanks a lot, Robin.”

“See ya,” Robin said, clicking her mouse to turn
the volume back up on her awful music.

Ryan and I left the evidence lab and walked back
up the stairs. I said, “Let’s run this by the chief.” Ryan nodded. We headed
down the hall to the private offices. All the way at the end we came to the
chief’s. It was the only office with a big glass panel on the door with his
name written on it.

Helen Glenning looked up from her screen and said,
“Can I help you, Detectives?” I wasn’t expecting the question. With the former
receptionist, Kari, you could just walk right in. This one was maybe fifty,
hair mostly grey, tight curls. A plain cranberry sweater, single strand of good
quality imitation pearls, a pin of a cat. Framed photos of kittens on the
walls.

“Can we see the chief?” I said.

“Did you have an appointment?” she said. The
receptionist’s desk had been moved to block a straight path to the chief’s
inner office. Probably his idea.

“No, no appointment. We wanted to bring him up to
date on the Hagerty murder,” I said. “No time to make an appointment. He just
got killed around midnight.”

Helen paused, raising an eyebrow to signal she
caught the implication of that last sentence. The gesture said, Don’t go
smartass on me if you want to see the chief. She hit the intercom button.
“Detectives Seagate and Miner, on the Hagerty homicide.”

“Okay,” the chief’s voice said on the intercom,
equal parts bored and annoyed.

Ryan said to her, “Thanks very much, Helen.” She
gave him an official smile and turned back to her screen. No smile for me.

For a municipal office, the chief’s was nice:
paneled walls, real wood furniture, a couch off to the side, upholstered arm
chairs in front of his desk. The chief didn’t acknowledge our entrance. He kept
looking at the screen, which obviously was more important than his detectives
reporting to him on a murder that had already made the national news.

I stood there, hands clasped before me. Looking
down at my feet, I studied the wine-colored carpet. I poked Ryan and pointed to
the carpet. “Nice nap,” I whispered. He nodded. If I was to hole up in this
office, then kill the chief, I’d have to remember to remove my footprints—or wear
clown shoes.

After ten seconds or so, the chief looked up from
his screen and nodded at us. “Yeah?” he said.

I was silent. Ryan looked at me, but I just stood
there. He spoke. “We wanted to bring you up to date on the Arlen Hagerty
murder.”

The chief nodded, the signal for Ryan to speak.
“He was killed around midnight, multiple stab wounds to the chest and abdomen,
probably not from a knife but something more like a screwdriver. We haven’t
recovered a weapon. He probably had sex with someone in the room. We think he
was watching TV, then got up and let the murderer in, or the murderer was the
person he had sex with. That’s all we’ve got so far.”

“All right,” the chief said, nodding to Ryan and
looking to me. “What are you doing now?”

I said, “We canvassed the hotel and we’re nailing
down any contacts between Hagerty and the hotel staff. We don’t think there was
anything. We’re getting a list of who was traveling with him. We’ll start
interviewing them this morning.”

“Who was he screwing?” the Chief said to me.

I caught a whiff of condescension here, as if I
wasn’t thinking enough about the sex angle. “We’re not sure yet,” I said. “He’s
married. We have to find out whether the wife was along with him, or if there
was anyone else in the group.”

“Check to make sure he didn’t call an escort
service.” Ryan pulled out his notebook and start writing in it. I had already
asked the hotel for the phone records for Hagerty’s room and was going to ask
for authorization to get his records if he had a cell phone.

I saw the chief looking approvingly at Ryan. The
kid was smart, making him think he was really contributing to the
investigation. The reason the chief asked about an escort service probably had
less to do with helping us than with how he spent his time at cop conventions
four or five times a year.

“Okay,” the chief said, shifting his weight in his
chair to signal the interview was over. “Anything else?”

“No, not at the moment,” I said.

“Stay in touch,” he said to me, as if this was my
first case.

“Absolutely,” I said, mouthing the word
asshole
as I turned to leave.

Chapter 3

Two others were along for
the debate gig: Arlen Hagerty’s widow, Margaret, and his assistant, Connie de
Marco. We decided to start with his wife. She was in room 217.

“Ms. Hagerty, I’m Detective Karen Seagate. My
partner, Detective Ryan Miner.” She nodded in acknowledgment, stepping back to
let us enter. The room was identical to the one in which her husband had been
murdered. “First, we’d like to express our condolences on your loss.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Please come in.” She
walked over to the desk, picked up the phone, and pushed a button. “One more
side chair, please.” She sat in the upholstered chair and motioned for me to
sit in the desk chair. “Detective Miner, another chair will be here in a
moment.”

“I don’t mind standing, ma’am.” He looked at the
king-size bed, which Margaret Hagerty or Housekeeping had already made up.

“As you wish, Detective.”

I said, “Ms. Hagerty, I realize how painful it
must be to have to talk with the police so soon after this terrible event, but
I hope you understand that time is important. I promise you we’ll do everything
we can to prosecute this case professionally so as to minimize the pain we
cause.”

“I appreciate your saying that, Detective Seagate,
and I would expect nothing less.” She sat motionless in the chair, her hands
folded in her lap, her legs crossed. Her gaze was direct. Any grief she was
feeling for her husband, she wasn’t showing us. She was about sixty, but it was
sixty with money. The hair was honey-blonde, perfectly shaped to round out the
contours of her long, thin face. The jaw was slightly too big, and her left
eye, a little higher than her right, make her look as if she was tilting her
head slightly. The makeup was understated. Eighteen-carat gold earrings set off
with large opals, and a matching necklace. Her dark grey suit was silk, her
shoes crocodile, with low heels. The shoes cost more than I spend on clothes in
a year.

“Ms. Hagerty, we’d like to learn as much as we can
about Mr. Hagerty and your relationship with him. We’d also like to learn what
we can about the two others who travel with you on these debates.”

“I understand.” Margaret Hagerty’s teeth were
capped and whitened, and not with the cheap stuff you buy at the drugstore. “But
I must tell you we have chartered a plane for two this afternoon. We’re
returning to Soul Savers headquarters in Colorado Springs.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Hagerty, but that won’t be
possible. We need you all to stay here in Rawlings to assist us in the investigation,
at least for several days. In addition, an autopsy needs to be performed here.”

“That cannot be performed elsewhere?” she said,
her eyebrow arched, as if surely there must be some way a person of her
standing could be spared this inconvenience.

“Unfortunately, no. Because this is a murder
investigation, the autopsy must be performed here.”

“I see,” she said. “Excuse me.” She stood and
walked to the desk, hit three buttons on the phone. “Put the plane on hold,
please, and notify the hotel we will all be staying until further notice. Thank
you.” She returned to her chair.

“Ms. Hagerty, can you tell us when you last saw
your husband?”

“Arlen came to my room, as he does every night
when we are traveling, at ten o’clock to wish me goodnight.”

“I apologize for getting into personal territory
here, Ms. Hagerty, but can you tell us why you and Mr. Hagerty stayed in
separate rooms?”

“Mr. Hagerty, as you know, was somewhat
overweight, and one of the results of that is he suffers … he suffered from a
condition known as sleep apnea. I won’t go into a long explanation. The
simplest way to answer your question is to say he snored, making it impossible
for me to sleep. We maintained separate bedrooms at home, as well.”

“And last night,” I said, “when he stopped by at
ten, did he seem any different than he usually does? Did he seem upset about
anything, or troubled or afraid?”

“No, he seemed perfectly normal. He had had a
nightcap with Jonathan, as you know, and he seemed content. He thought the
debate had gone well.”

“Did he mention anything he had to do, anyone he
was going to meet with? Anything out of the ordinary at all?”

“No, no, and no to your three questions.” She
unfolded her hands and placed them on the arms of the chair. She uncrossed her
legs and re-crossed them in the other direction. She kept looking straight at
me, as if I was the only other person in the room.

There was a knock at the door. Margaret looked to
Ryan, like he should seize this opportunity to participate.

Ryan said, “I’ll get it.” It was Housekeeping with
another chair. He carried the chair in and sat down. “Sorry,” he said, for no
reason.

“Ms. Hagerty, I apologize in advance for this next
question, but I have to ask it. It’s a routine part of any investigation—”

“I understand, Detective Seagate. No, I can
provide no alibi. I was here in this room, alone. As I do every night, I read
for about twenty minutes in bed. Then I turned off the light and went to
sleep.”

I glanced over at the bed table. There was a
hardcover book, with a tooled leather bookmark sticking out of it. “And you
heard no unusual noises and were not awakened?”

“Correct, Detective.”

Ryan had his notebook open and was taking notes.

“I see.” I paused a second. “I’d like to ask you a
few questions about Jonathan Ahern and Connie de Marco, if you don’t mind.” She
nodded. “Let’s start with Mr. Ahern. How did you and Mr. Hagerty meet him? What
kind of man is he?”

“As you may or may not know, Arlen and I have been
appearing for some eight years at various civic functions and college campuses.
Although the specific topics of our talks have changed over the years in
response to new developments and events, we have maintained a consistent focus
on family values and respect for the rights of the unborn. At one appearance at
a community college in Macon, Georgia, several years ago, Jonathan was in the
audience.

“During the question-and-answer portion of the
program, he stood up and asked a number of well-formulated questions. His
manner was polite and respectful, and the audience appeared to like him. At
colleges, there are always a number of people in the audience who oppose our
agenda. That night was no exception. His questions elicited considerable
applause from the audience. I think it was at this moment I devised the idea of
a debate format as a means of presenting our message. At the conclusion of the
program, I sought him out, and we had an interesting chat. The topic was
stem-cell research.”

“How soon before you started incorporating Mr.
Ahern into the program?”

“Not long after. The next night we presented our
program in Atlanta, and we brought him up onto the stage to deliver a kind of
rebuttal. It went extremely well. That night he was—as he continues to
be—articulate, well informed, and diplomatic. I noticed his potential right
away.”

“What sort of man is he?”

“To be perfectly frank, Detective Seagate, I do
not know him personally. I know he had some minor position in politics as some
kind of assistant to a Democrat in the state legislature in Georgia, but I
believe he was no longer in that position when we met him in Georgia. I spend
very little time with him when we travel. Arlen liked him—I imagine you and
Detective Miner saw their camaraderie when you went out with them that night.
But I never socialize with Jonathan.”

“The fact that Jonathan and Mr. Hagerty were on
different sides of the issue—you don’t think that could have led to an argument
that got out of hand?”

“That is out of the question. Both Jonathan and
Arlen are adults. They understand that such issues are matters of public policy
that need to be resolved in the legislatures and courts. Arlen has always
opposed the violence espoused by the radical fringe of the right-to-life
movement, as he makes clear in the debate. And Jonathan comes from a
legislative background, as well. Let me add one other point, if I may.”

“Of course,” I said.

“As I am sure you have discovered or will soon
discover, Jonathan Ahern travels with us on these debates. His formal
association is with the organization he runs called Research Horizons, but he
is on our payroll when he travels with us. We cover his expenses and have him
on a per diem. I do not wish to appear petty, but I am not sure what means of
support Jonathan would rely on were it not for our debates.”

“Thank you. That’s useful information,” I said.
“Let me turn to Connie de Marco. What can you tell us about Connie?”

“Connie is our assistant. She travels with us and
makes all arrangements. She handles the charters, the limousines, the food, the
hotels, the correspondence with the colleges and the event planners. Without
Connie, we literally could not make our presentations.”

“How did you and Mr. Hagerty meet her?”

“As I have explained, Soul Savers, over the years,
has been a voice for family values and the rights of the unborn. One of the
activities of which we are most proud, although it is not well known to the
public, is assisting people in crisis. Every year, we minister to thousands of
lost souls in need of guidance. Connie was one of those lost souls.

“She came to our crisis center in Colorado Springs
some three or four years ago. She had a very troubled background, including
sexual abuse at home, an abortion, drug abuse, prostitution, homelessness. We
took her in, got her off the streets, and helped her finish school. Arlen
recognized her potential and arranged for her to begin working at Soul Savers
headquarters. Eventually, she began to travel with us. She is a Godsend.”

“I see.”

“Soul Savers is a big organization, and like all
big organizations, it comes with its share of bureaucratic complications and
difficulties. But when I look at Connie, I am reminded of our core function and
our purpose. We save souls, one at a time.”

“That must give you great satisfaction,” Ryan
said.

“It certainly does, Detective Miner. It certainly
does.” She rewarded him with a suggestion of a smile.

I said, “And what sort of person is she, I mean,
personally?”

“Connie is very efficient. In terms of the
presentation she makes, she has grown considerably in the years she has been
with us. As you can imagine, when we first met her, she was quite rough around
the edges. She didn’t know how to speak, how to dress, how to eat properly,
anything. I have taken a special interest in working with her, however, and I
think the results will be obvious to you when you meet her. I am quite proud of
how far she has come.”

“Well, yes, we will be talking with her soon,” I
said. “We look forward to meeting with her. I have one more question, Ms.
Hagerty.”

“Proceed.”

“Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to
hurt Mr. Hagerty?”

Margaret Hagerty remained motionless and silent
for a moment. “I am as mystified as you are.”

I stood, and Ryan followed my lead. “Ms. Hagerty,
again, our condolences for your loss, and we appreciate you making the time to
meet with us.” Margaret Hagerty nodded from her chair. “We might need to meet
with you again as the investigation proceeds, but we will certainly try to
respect your time during this difficult period. And, of course, we will keep
you informed at all times of the progress of the investigation.” I handed her
my card. “Please do not hesitate to call me if you can think of anything that
will help us in our investigation or you simply want to talk.”

“Detective Seagate, Detective Miner,” she said,
nodding to each of us.

*  *  *

“Margaret Hargerty’s
something, huh?” Ryan said, once we were back in the hotel meeting room off the
lobby.

“Yeah, she’s something, all right. The question
is, What?”

“What’re you getting at?”

“Okay, let’s start with what we saw.”

Ryan said, “I saw a sixty-year old lady, very
together, she’s got some money, knows how to give orders, expects people to
follow them.”

“That’s right. The room’s already made up, so
either she did it herself or she got Housekeeping to do it. She calls
Housekeeping to get you a chair, I guess so you don’t sit on her bed and get
cop cooties all over it. She tells us she’s planning to leave town this
afternoon.”

“I was wondering about that. Could she possibly
think we’d let her jump on a plane, toss her husband in cargo, and take off?”

“No. She knows there’s gotta be an autopsy, and it
has to be done here.”

“So what’s the point of her telling us that?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe she’s telling us
we’re putting her out. You know, putting us on notice.”

“But we saw her phone someone—probably Connie—to
tell her to cancel the plane, right?”

I started walking the perimeter of the room.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything. She could’ve told Connie to make those
arrangements, to make it look realistic. Or, shit, maybe she wasn’t even
calling anyone at all when she picked up the phone. The little red light goes
on as soon as you pick up the phone.”

Ryan said, “What do you make of the fact she
seemed so together? Could she be that cool with her husband just murdered?”

“Yeah, she really did seem poised. But I’ve seen
that before. Right after it happens, the spouse can sorta be in shock, so they
do what they know how to do. For her, it could be she cleans up the room and
puts on her good clothes. She might fall apart later.”

“Like she’s exerting control,” Ryan said.

“Exactly. When shit happens, you retreat. You
impose order wherever you can. That’s why you make sure everything looks in
place.”

“Yeah. Did you see the book on the night table?
With a real bookmark, not a scrap of paper?”