Losing Patients (Animal Instincts Book 4) (5 page)

She spun around to face me. “This is from that police report, isn’t it? I told you not to read that report. You gave me the report.”

“I still read it. It wasn’t the only copy around.” I was shocked to see so much animation in her. For as long as I could remember, my mother had been lifeless and dry, a husk of a woman who was afraid to leave the house. Now her cheeks flushed, and her eyes had sparks in them. I wondered if she’d been this way before the crimes that had devastated our family, or if she was only this way now when something challenged her way of life.

“So are you happy with what you found?” she asked.

“I’m not sure what I found,” I replied honestly. She made it seem as if the keys were a clear indication of one thing, while I’d come up with no less than three possibilities. Obviously, she knew more than she was telling about the matter, and equally obviously, she wasn’t going to share it with me. I wondered which of the three possibilities was right.

“I think it’s time for you to go.” She walked to the front door and swung it open. I tried to give her a hug on the way out, but she pulled back. I wasn’t sure if the relationship could be fixed after this, but I left. If I’d based my life on a lie, then I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a part of the family. I’d built up a series of coping mechanisms for an event that I was fairly certain now didn’t occur like I had thought it did. Given my mother’s reaction, she knew more than she’d told the kids. I’d never known her to ask anyone to leave, and now I was being thrown out.

I drove home, trying to think of a next move. I had two people to talk to about my sister. The first was my brother, who might have moved because he knew more as well. The second was the police sergeant who had been calling my mother and who had told her that I had the police report. He most definitely knew more than he’d included in the report if he’d felt a need to tell her that I was reading the report. Even with these new leads to follow, I wasn’t in a hurry to do so. Just like it had taken me months to read the file, now I was hesitant to move too fast to confirm my suspicions. I was taking this slowly, one step at a time, to allow my brain time to process the information.

To keep my mind off of my family and these new developments, I went home and began to look up news articles about Harriett Marksberry. I noticed that two women had been murdered and only one man. I wasn’t sure if that was important, but in any case, two of the three were likely to be in one gender category. In all three cases, the victims were married. Givens had been happily married or so she said, except for the stash of money she’d found. That spoke of him hiding something from her and at the moment, I found that to be a source of mistrust.  Adamson had been separated and out of town at the time of the suicide, and Marksberry was seemingly happily married as well.

The crime had occurred only a few days before, and the papers were still full of speculation about the crime and the reasons for it. Harriett had been coming home from work on Tuesday. She’d never arrived home. At 10pm her husband had called the police. They had asked questions, but not wanted to commit their resources.

At 3am, an anonymous caller had reported seeing a brown sedan off the side of I-75, not far from downtown. The police had gone to investigate just before sunrise and found the body of Harriett Marksberry, dead from a gunshot wound. The car was not bloodied, which told them she had been moved to the car after death. The ballistics report had put the gun as a Beretta 9mm, but other than that they had no information on the gun. It had never been stolen or used in the commission of another crime.

The police had checked into the husband’s alibi, which seemed to be solid. He’d been home, but several neighbors had been at the house taking care of the children while he made calls to friends and family to see if they had seen Harriett that evening. He’d stopped calling people after his call to the police at 10pm, but two friends had stayed over as a precaution in case the husband was summoned out during the night.

While the police had an alibi for the husband, they also had a slew of motives. There was a $150,000 life insurance policy out on Harriett with all proceeds going to the husband. Neighbors had also told the police that Harriett had been having an affair with a co-worker, but the police and the newspapers were not naming the other person.

I had a million questions for Green, but of course, she’d warned me off of this case. The most fruitful line of questioning, as I saw it, was breaking the alibis. In all of the three cases that Dr. Wilson had identified, the most likely suspect had a clear alibi. Mrs. Givens had been on the beach, while her husband was boating. Mr. Adamson had been out of town. Now Mr. Marksberry was surrounded by friends while his wife was being murdered. By far that was the most unusual aspect of each of the cases – and the most suspicious.

In our everyday life, there are times each day when no one can say with certainty where we are. We drive to work alone. We go to the grocery store alone. In each case, our only proof is the results of our actions. We know that we drove home from work, because people were at our work and at our home and we traveled home in roughly the amount of time it takes on average to make that trip. We know that we went to the grocery store because we come home with bags of groceries and a receipt marked at that time. However, what if someone else had done the shopping and given us the food and the receipt? Then we’d have 30-40 minutes of freedom. Yet in these cases, the critical time period was covered with an airtight alibi that didn’t seem to be breakable.

I opted to try to break these alibis. I’d call on some people who had been at the beach with Mrs. Givens, and I’d call Mr. Adamson’s hotel to find out if he’d been seen then. It also allowed me to investigate without coming up against the victims’ spouses repeatedly. With the drama in my own family, I was less inclined to continue to bring up the crimes to them. I knew too well what that was like to do it to others.

I decided to start with the marina and the people who might have seen Mrs. Givens that day. There were a number of workers at the marina as well as people who take their boats out regularly. I thought it best to start with a large group of objective witnesses rather than the friends of the Marksberry family where someone was likely to report my activities.

I had a crisp clear day for it. The sun shone across Lake Erie, making it seem deceptively warm. I knew that by this time of year the lake would be getting cold again. Even in the dog days of August, the lake was too cold for me to take a dip in. I hadn’t spent much time here since I’d been left out on the frigid lake in the middle of winter, left to die. The experience took some of the pleasure out of the resort aspects of the marina.

There were a number of boats all moored and waiting for someone to take them out. I could see a few boats just out from the marina, and a few spots further out on the lake that I assumed to be sailboats. The wind had a bite to it, and I knew that winter wouldn’t be all that far off from now.

I took the dogs with me to the marina, thinking that more conversations are started with cute dogs than practically any other mechanisms besides babies. I didn’t have any of those readily available, so dogs were my choice. Bruno took it as his due to travel with me, but Number 32 was still a little girl. Every trip was an adventure for her. She bounced around the backseat as I made my way to the marina.

I leashed both of them and started walking. From her statements and the newspaper accounts, I had a vague idea of where she’d been waiting while her husband took the boat out. It was near the water, and a popular place to get a tan. I walked across the area twice without getting a nibble. I didn’t mind, but frankly the dogs expected better. Number 32 decided to pull out the stops, and she nipped at a guy’s leg who didn’t stop to pet her.

Given that he was dressed as an employee of the marina, I apologized to him. “I’m sorry. She’s a rescue, and I’m still trying to teach her manners. She gets excited and who knows what will happen.”

The man, who was older with graying temples and a mustache that looked like it had forgotten that it wasn’t the 1970s, reached down and held out a hand for the puppy to sniff. She gladly obliged and threw in a few licks for good measure.

“No problem. She’s fine. What kind of dogs are these?” he asked, eyeing Bruno as well.

“They’re Corgis. The Queen of England has these dogs, too. I like them because they’re energetic, but small enough to manage.”

He stood back up and adjusted his shirt. “They seem well-behaved.”

“I like smaller dogs for just that reason,” I said. “The big dogs. I can’t imagine what they’d be like to train. With these guys, if they’re bad, I just pick them up. There was a dog here a few weeks ago that was huge. Looked like a small horse.” I went on to describe Nelly to the man, making it sound as monstrous as I could, even though I knew she was a sweetie.

He nodded. “That’s the Givens dog. It has to be. That thing is a monster. I’ve seen smaller horses. Pleasant dog, but I’d hate to see one that wasn’t pleasant.”

“That must be it. I haven’t seen them lately. They used to be fairly regular,” I said, playing stupid for the man.

His face made a grimace, which told me that he knew the story. “There were an accident. They haven’t been back since.”

I feigned shock. “I hope that dog is okay. I certainly didn’t mean to talk about it in that way.”

The man smiled. “The dog is fine. There was a boating accident, and the husband passed away. I imagine that she’ll sell the boat.”

“How much do you think that she’d want for it?” I asked, trying to play up my interest in the more mundane aspects of the accident.

He named a figure that made me whistle. “Is it worth that?” Given that her husband had socked $100,000 in the garage, I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I wondered where he’d gotten all of this money.

“Definitely. It was a well-turned out boat. Of course, since she didn’t like to sail, she might not know the true price. It was really her husband’s passion.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I think that I read something about that accident. Wasn’t the dog out with him on the boat?”

The man nodded. I’d found that if I kept conversations centered around the animals that people were more willing to share the information more readily than if I just asked about the people involved. “Yes, I believe he was.”

“Was the wife with them too? I would think it would take all hands on deck to manage an animal that large.”

“No, I believe the wife stayed on shore. As I mentioned, she wasn’t much for sailing. She usually got a drink from the café and made herself comfortable in a chair to read.”

I made a note of that. The café would be my next stop. He seemed to be growing tired of the conversation and seemed a tad worried that it might lead into indiscreet topics, so I moved on. Rather, the dogs moved on, and I followed.

I guided them in the direction of the café, which was a large outdoor area that had wood flooring and a restaurant with a smaller bar area outside. The entire area was enclosed by rails along the outside, so that traffic could be routed through the few openings which led to concrete walkways.

I stopped outside to order a drink at the small bar. There was a young woman taking orders from an older couple, and I waited my turn, though the dogs were all for rushing the woman. She caught my eye twice while I was waiting and smiled at me. Apparently, she was flirting, but I was so bad at social interactions that I tried to ignore it.

I’d been approached a few times since I’d cut my hair. What I had thought of as merely an act of rebellion was a calling card for some. I tried to ignore it as much as I could, but it was embarrassing at times. Flirting was still something that set off a red flag for me. Flirting was to draw attention to yourself, and even with the new haircut and freshly mowed grass, I wasn’t ready to draw personal attention to my actions. I was definitely a work in progress.

I ordered a small beer, since technically I was working and didn’t want to miss anything that might be said. The bartender made a comment about the dogs, and I went into the same spiel about big dogs again.

She had none of the reserve of the older man, and she began talking about Nelly as if they were good friends.

“I haven’t seen them out here lately. I hope the dog is okay,” I echoed from earlier.

“Oh, there was some trouble. The husband died in a boating accident. The wife was right here the day it happened, if you can believe it. Just having a glass of wine like nothing was going on in the world. How could she know?”

“Was she here the whole time? I wouldn’t want to be sitting here and find out that my spouse had been killed just out of eyesight.” I shivered and then flashed her a smile. I wasn’t above an attempted flirt if I got more information about the matter.

The bartender rolled her eyes. “You sound like the police. They wanted to know her whereabouts all afternoon. As far as I could tell, she was in a chair out by the edge of the patio section here. She came back once for another drink, but that’s all. I didn’t see her leave, but I didn’t keep an eye on her all afternoon either. You know?”

“Yeah, it’s hard when you have lots of work to do. How long was it between drinks? I mean, was she getting smashed or?” I left it open-ended in case she felt like sharing more.

“Um, maybe an hour or so. It wasn’t fast enough for me to start wondering if I needed to cut her off, but I didn’t have the feeling that she was nursing her drinks either. Just somewhere in between. Like most people are.”