DF08 - The Night Killer (28 page)

Could they have been so frustrated that Barre wouldn’t share his grandfather’s diary that they killed him and his wife in a rage? Then, the next evening, had the same rage and killed the Watsons? Still the problem with the Watsons.

Perhaps it was simply a serial killer. In which case there might be more to come. Diane shook her head. Or perhaps either the Barres or the Watsons were a decoy, a red herring. It could be that all the analysis she had been doing about the Barres was completely useless and it was the Watsons she should be concentrating on. Or maybe she could leave the Watsons out of the equation completely and look further into the Barres’ history. Diane was looking forward to the coming Sunday. She was still deep in thought when Andie put through a caller.

“Diane, Lynn Webber. I’ve finished the Barre and Watson autopsies. I cleared out my morning and afternoon so I could get all four done. I thought you’d like to have my preliminary findings.”

“Lynn, yes, I am anxious to hear what you found,” said Diane. “Thank you for doing this. I’m sure you had to do a lot of rearranging of your schedule and I appreciate it.”

“Just a little changing. I didn’t mind,” Lynn said. “I have to tell you, Hector and Scott are so precious. And such a hoot. They even made Grover laugh, and you know how hard that is.”

Diane smiled. Grover was Lynn’s very solemn diener in the morgue.

“They can be very entertaining,” agreed Diane.

“I was very interested in the research they are doing. They gave me a bang-up proposal,” said Lynn.

Hector and Scott were interested in taphonomy. Their particular interest at the moment was the postmortem interval—the length of time between death and whenever the body was discovered. Knowing when a murder victim died was one of the main pieces of information authorities needed in order to help find and convict the perpetrator.

Taphonomy for forensic scientists was the study of what happened to a body from the time of death to discovery. Mike, Diane’s geology curator, also used the word in his discipline. For him it meant the study of the movement of an organism from the biosphere to the lithosphere—from organism to fossil. Forensic scientists didn’t have that long to wait.

When a person died—unless normal decomposition was prevented by embalming, freezing, dehydration, or a few other rare circumstances—bacteria began to liquefy the organs, muscles, and skin. Chemicals found in the various organs and soft tissue during this process showed predictable changes over time. If you knew the temperature surrounding the body during the decomposition process, you could determine postmortem interval to within hours—certainly days. David called it an elegant use of data and mathematical formulas.

Hector and Scott wanted to wind the clock a little tighter. They proposed that Lynn Webber and other area medical examiners allow them to collect tissue samples from cadavers that came to the MEs for autopsy, and compare data from the samples to known times of death—or nearly known.

Their research would not help Diane determine precisely when the Barres were killed, but she hoped it would help in future cases. The current standard procedure of sampling the potassium concentration in the vitreous humor of the eye might help in the Barre case, but Diane feared that too much time had passed since their deaths. Moreover, the standard error of two hours for that indicator still wasn’t what she needed. She needed a tighter time line.

Diane wanted to know what the time interval was between Ozella Barre’s death and the death of her husband, Roy. She was equally anxious to know whether there was a similar time difference between the deaths of Joe and Ella Watson.

That was one of the things that bothered her, the time difference between the two Barres. Why? What was the killer doing after he killed Ozella Barre? Did he get interrupted by someone or something after Ozella’s death? Was the killer trying to get information, and thought Roy would be more forthcoming if he knew up close and personal what the stakes were? Did he think Roy would tell him anything after seeing the woman he had devoted his life to killed in such a terrible way?

“Hector and Scott share Jin’s and David’s love of research,” said Diane. “We’ve converted one of the museum basement rooms to house their project.”

“Well, I’m going to study their proposal. I’m very interested in their ideas,” said Lynn. “Now, about the autopsies. I know you were interested in the time intervals for the Barres, but I’m not going to be able to help you much.”

“I was afraid too much time had passed for a close estimate,” said Diane.

“They didn’t do a liver temp at the scene for them,” said Lynn. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to go with your photographs of the crime scene. You know, I’ve never worked with Rendell County. Which is just as well; I don’t think I would get along with them.”

“I’ve been barred from entering the county,” said Diane.

“What? Why?” asked Lynn.

“I offended Sheriff Conrad,” said Diane. “He thinks I’m stepping on his authority, and in a way, I am. But the Barre children want me to investigate. And besides, I found the Barres and I feel like I owe them.”

“I understand,” said Lynn. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t let it go either.”

“What can you tell me about the Watsons?” asked Diane.

“Well, at least a liver temp was done at the scene. It indicates both died within minutes of each other,” said Lynn.

“That’s interesting,” said Diane. “A departure from the Barres.”

“It looks that way,” said Lynn.

Diane was waiting for Lynn to drop the other shoe. So far she hadn’t added anything that Dr. Linden didn’t notice, and she knew that wouldn’t do for Lynn. Diane also heard something in Lynn’s voice. She had a surprise. Diane didn’t spoil it by asking, but let Lynn draw it out.

“There is one thing I found,” Lynn said.

“Oh?” said Diane.

“They were all killed by the same person.”

Diane was speechless for a moment. Not because of the revelation that they were killed by the same person; she suspected it. She didn’t think the Watsons were killed by a copycat. What surprised her was that Lynn had evidence of it.

“Are you still there?” asked Lynn.

Diane could hear in her voice that she was pleased. Lynn loved to show off.

“Yes, I’m here. I’m just speechless,” said Diane. “Tell me about it.”

“I spent a great deal of time examining the neck wounds. Same angle, same depth. All four of their throats were cut down to the vertebra with one slice of the knife,” said Lynn. She paused.

Diane knew what it meant. A strong arm with a long and very sharp knife—as sharp as a scalpel. An expensive knife. Only the highest-quality blades could be as sharp as needed for what Lynn described. Diane had learned all about blade quality when she herself was stabbed. But Diane didn’t offer that conclusion. She knew from experience that Lynn hated to be upstaged in the middle of a story. Diane catered to Lynn’s personality because she used her expertise a lot. Lynn, however high-maintenance a friend she was, was very good at her job.

“It would take a very expensive sharp knife,” she began, and told Diane all the things she already knew about what kind of knife it had to be and the kind of strength it took to cut through muscle and tendons in one slice.

“I made molds of the cuts in the vertebrae,” she said. “Same cut on all of them.”

“Excellent,” said Diane. “Excellent. This is the first real clue I can use.”

“I thought you would like that,” said Lynn. “I sent the report to your e-mail.”

“I can always depend on you to do good work,” said Diane, wondering if she was laying it on a little thick. If she was, Lynn didn’t seem to notice. She took the praise with delight and hung up after they agreed to meet for lunch sometime in the near future.

Diane left her office about the same time Andie was closing up her office. Andie had chosen a vase of roses to take home with her.

“You know, you may get home and discover roses, violets, and daisies all over your front porch,” said Diane.

Andie grinned. “That would be fun.”

“I’ll see you on Monday,” said Diane.

“Nope,” said Andie. “I’ll see you at church on Sunday. Liam asked me to go with him and I agreed.”

Diane raised her eyebrows. That made Frank, Izzy and his wife, and now Andie and Liam. Well, at least she would be surrounded by people she knew. All this was probably arranged by David. She was also sure he would be up to something himself. She thought David was perhaps being a bit too paranoid in this instance. Sheriff Conrad wouldn’t arrest her at church, even a rival church.

Sunday morning Diane took more time selecting her clothes than she did if she were going to the opening party of a new exhibit. She wanted to set just the right tone with the people she hoped to get information from. She finally settled on a blue-gray tweed pencil skirt with matching fitted jacket and black heels.

“You look fine,” said Frank, coming up behind her as she examined herself in the mirror.

He wore a charcoal gray suit that he often wore to church. He put his arms around her waist and she put her hands on his.

“We look pretty good together. You could marry me,” he said.

Diane felt herself involuntarily stiffen and hated it. He had asked before, always casually, as if he could tell himself he wasn’t serious when she said no. But she knew he was serious. He deserved a better reaction.

“I understand what you’re afraid of,” he said. “That if you commit, I will be taken away somehow.”

“I know it must seem very unreasonable to you.” She acknowledged the fear, though she usually denied it. She hated being superstitious, but every time he asked her to marry him, she remembered how happy she was with Ariel and how her world just about ended when Ariel was killed. How could she endure that again?

“Just think about it,” he said. “Not everything has to end in tragedy.” He kissed the back of her neck.

She turned so that she faced him with his arms still circling her waist.

“I know,” she said. She kissed him, then wiped her lipstick off his lips with her thumb.

“So,” she said. “Do you think I’ll be acceptable to the people of Rendell County?”

“Absolutely,” he said, giving her a hug before they left for church services at the First Baptist Church of Rendell County.

Diane and Frank sat toward the back of the church on a pew with Izzy and his wife, Evie, on one side and Andie and Liam on the other. Judging from their body language, Andie and Liam hadn’t patched things up completely, but they were friends enough to come here together to support Diane.

In the pew in front of them sat Christine, her husband, and her brother Spence Barre. Christine had nodded toward the front of the church and whispered that the Watsons’ two daughters were sitting with their families.

The minister introduced the guests before he began his sermon. The members of the congregation all turned, smiled, and nodded at Diane and her party.

The service went by quickly. The sermon was surprisingly short. Diane stood and sang with Frank and the others whenever the music director led them in a hymn. Frank had a good voice and it attracted attention. Diane gave generously to the collection plate when it came around.

At the altar call at the end of the service they sang “Just As I Am,” a hymn that never failed to make Diane feel guilty. She sighed. Some things from childhood could never be shed.

Diane expected that Christine and her brother had found a few people who would speak with her after the service. She hoped perhaps they could use one of the Sunday-school rooms, or possibly they would speak to her out in the parking lot. But that wasn’t exactly how it played out. After the altar call, the minister invited everyone to the fellowship hall for a covered-dish lunch. Apparently, Christine and her brother had arranged it so Diane would have access to all the members who stayed for lunch.

Everyone had gotten to church before Diane and her party arrived. Probably came for Sunday school, she thought. And most everyone had brought a covered dish containing what looked like some pretty spectacular food.

Standing in the serving line, Diane smiled at the woman next to her and commented on how wonderful the food looked. The woman turned away and began filling her plate. So, not everyone was happy she was here, mused Diane. She watched the woman for a moment. The man just ahead of her was probably her husband. Both looked to be in their sixties and well dressed. She was in a royal blue microfiber front-buttoned dress, with a short string of pearls. Her husband wore a silvery gray suit. Diane thought she remembered him holding one of the collection plates.

Diane and Frank sat at one of the long tables. She noted that Izzy and his wife sat at one table, and Andie and Liam sat at another. Definitely organized by David so they could all speak with different people. Made sense, of course. Diane hadn’t thought to come up with a coordinated plan. She was just going to wing it.

The minister said grace. He mentioned the Barres and the Watsons and especially Roy Jr., who was still in critical condition in the hospital. A lot of tragedy for one church, thought Diane.

Christine and Brian McEarnest and Spence Barre sat down opposite Diane and Frank. Two women came over with their plates of food, and the Barres scooted aside to allow them to sit opposite Diane. One was a woman about Christine’s age. She had thin brown hair and a narrow face. She looked pale, her hazel eyes were puffy, and she was thin. She wore a plain brown dress, no makeup or jewelry. The other woman looked a couple years older and, though heavier and taller, was so similar in facial structure that Diane thought they had to be sisters. She wore a navy suit and light makeup. Both looked so very sad.

“I’m Lillian Watson Carver,” the older woman said. “This is my sister, Violet Watson. Welcome to our church.” She smiled at Diane, reached over, and shook her hand. “And thank you for looking into this. We are just overwrought. Nothing like this has ever happened in our family, ever.”