Veiled (A Short Story) (4 page)

Lacey was impressed. That said good things about the
environment Paul had created for his employees.

“I’ll need a list of the employees who’ve been let go since
you started.” Terry scribbled something on the second sheet of his notebook.
“But first I want to have a talk with Will Marino.” Mathews strode into the
room without knocking. Terry looked annoyed for a split second until he saw the
excitement on Mathews’s face. “What is it?” Terry asked.

“I talked to Will Marino’s mother in Idaho. She hasn’t heard
from her son in a few weeks, which is normal behavior for him. But she says he
has a fishing cabin a few miles out of town that he shares with a few people.
She didn’t know exactly where, but she said he spends a lot of time there.”

“This is a place he owns? Like his name’s on the title?”
Terry asked.

“No, his mother says someone else owns it. Sounds like he
goes up there with a group of guys pretty often.”

“You know who he goes up there with?” Terry asked.

Lacey could see that the chief was frustrated to not
automatically have that information. If this had happened in Lakeview, Terry
would have instantly known the victim and all the haunts where her ex-husband
could be found.

Mathews shook his head. “I’m going to hunt down some of
Will’s friends. See if any of them know about it.”

Jack spoke up. “Mathews, everyone in town knew Patty because
she worked at The Anchor, right? Did they also all know her living situation?”

The cop paused, looking from Terry to Jack a few times.
Terry’s face said he was interested in the question, too.

“Patty kept things pretty quiet, but word gets around. She
was an attractive woman.” Mathews swallowed hard. “People liked to talk to
pretty girls, especially when they’re serving you beer. It was a well-known
fact that Will was an ass to her.”

“So people are thinking that it’s Will who killed her?” Jack
asked. “Is that what people are guessing?”

Mathews shifted his weight. “I’ve had a few people ask me if
that’s what happened. I’ve told them we don’t know.”

“Keep telling them that,” insisted Terry. “And find out
where this fishing cabin is.”

“Yes, Chief.” Mathews vanished out the door.

“Mathews, wait!”

The young cop popped back inside. “Yes, Chief?”

“Did you find out what Will was doing yesterday?”

“Garcia requested his cell phone records. I’ll check with
him. And from what I’ve heard, Will hasn’t worked anywhere in months and was
pretty sour about it.”

“Thanks. Go.” Terry waved a hand to dismiss him.

“Are you done with me too for now?” Paul asked.

“Yes. Did you pull the video from your front-desk camera?”

Paul nodded. “It’s digital. I can create some stills from
all the check-ins if you like.”

“That’d save me some time,” Terry said.

Paul left, and Terry reached up his arms to stretch his
back. “How long before we hear anything from the medical examiner?” he asked
Lacey.

“It depends what else is on his docket,” said Lacey. “I can
touch base with him if you’d like. See if he has anything preliminary. We have
her ID established. We need her cause of death and a better time frame. And
anything unusual he might have found.”

“Do you mind?”

She pulled out her cell phone in answer. “I’ll be back in a
minute.” She stepped out of the room and moved down the hall. The clock was
ticking on the case. The sooner they had a firm lead on the killer, the better.

She Googled the phone number for the county medical
examiner’s office and got Dr. Pillai on the phone within a minute by using her
credentials.

“Dr. Campbell. Now you’re helping out with the
investigation?” Dr. Pillai asked. “I’d offer whatever help I could if a murder
happened at my hotel on vacation,” he joked.

“Let’s just say I’m here to translate the medical findings
for the police department. Unofficially. You can send your formal report once
you’re done, but if you already have a tighter time of death, it’d help us hunt
down who did this.”

“I’ve changed my time frame a bit. I believe her death
happened between ten and midnight last night. The heat of the tub sped up the
lividity. And cause of death is strangulation. Unless the toxicology comes back
with any other indicators, but those would probably be secondary factors. Her
hyoid bone is broken, and using alternative light sources, the finger marks
around her neck are clear as day. She also has petechiae in the whites of her
eyes and scratch marks around her neck, indicating that she struggled while
someone was applying pressure. I removed the tissue from under her nails. I’m
sure some will be hers, but there’s a good chance she scratched him, too.”

“The bruises on the neck were pretty clear to start with,”
Lacey said, remembering the colors on Patty’s neck.

“I can see every fingertip,” Dr. Pillai stated quietly.
“There’s no other evidence of violence to her body. No other broken bones or
bruising. No sexual activity.”

Lacey closed her eyes. She hadn’t considered that aspect of
the kill. Sometimes her view of the world was a bit naïve. She liked it that
way. “That’s good.”

“I’ve removed the wedding dress and will send it back to the
police. I looked it over but didn’t find anything unusual. There’s a good
chance it was hers. The size was a good fit.”

“I’ll see if she has any old wedding photos with the dress.”
Lacey made a mental note to pass on the request to Terry. “Thank you for your
help. Let us know if anything else turns up.”

“Will do,” said Dr. Pillai.

She stepped back in the room to find that Garcia had joined
them.

“I got Will Marino’s cell records from the last few days,”
he was saying to Terry, handing over a sheet of paper. “There are only three
calls from yesterday. As you can see, two are to Patty’s cell phone and one is
to The Anchor.

“All the calls are in the evening. He called Patty twice,
back-to-back. Then an hour later he calls the bar.”

“What time are the calls to Patty?” Lacey asked.

Terry squinted at the sheet. “The first is at seven
forty-three for three minutes. Then there’s another ten minutes later.”

Lacey nodded. “Dr. Pillai is estimating her time of death
between ten p.m. and midnight. And he’s convinced she was strangled. He hasn’t
found indications of anything else. He’s waiting on tox reports. You should
have an official report tomorrow morning.”

“He must have called Patty at the bar. What do you think
they discussed?” Terry wondered.

Lacey doubted it was pleasant.

The investigative group had moved from the luxurious
conference room at the hotel to a no-frills conference room at the police
station. Lacey missed the hotel’s pressed coffee and lemon ice water. The
coffeepot here looked like it had last been cleaned in 1970.

The interviews with the hotel guests hadn’t turned up any
leads. No one had complained of any noises; no one saw anything suspicious. All
the guests had been willing to let the police take a quick look in their
suites. But nothing uncommon turned up.

Paul had printed still shots from the front-desk video, but
Patty hadn’t appeared in any of them. He’d said he’d watched the entire video,
looking for the familiar bartender but hadn’t seen her at any time.

“Rick from The Anchor is here to talk with you, Chief,”
Garcia said from the doorway.

“Send him in,” answered Terry. He shuffled the digital
images of the body and hot tub into a file. He and Jack had been poring over
the shots seeking anything unusual.

When Rick walked in, Lacey recognized the bartender who’d
served her a burger earlier that day. A big guy, Rick looked like a young John
Goodman. He did a double take when he saw her and Jack, instant recognition
crossing his face, and his eyebrows narrowing. “Terry, how’s it going?” He held
out his hand to the chief.

“Thanks for coming in, Rick. This is Dr. Lacey Campbell from
the medical examiner’s office, and Jack Harper.”

Rick shook their hands. “I remember you two from lunch
today.”

“Excellent burgers,” replied Lacey as the man took a seat at
the big table.

“How long has Patty been working at The Anchor?” Terry
asked, his pencil and notepad ready.

Rick glanced at Lacey and Jack before he answered, clearly
uncomfortable that strangers were sitting in on his interview. Jack stretched
his feet out under the table and relaxed into his chair, his body language
stating that he wasn’t going anywhere, so Rick needed to get over it.

“She’s been there about five years. Started off waiting
tables. Asked to move behind the bar. She liked it better. All the customers
enjoyed her.”

“She work last night?”

“She worked until nine. It slows down considerably by then.”

“Did she leave right at nine?” Terry questioned.

“I checked the records this morning. She came on at noon and
clocked out at nine fourteen. I asked around and no one remembers her hanging
around after she was finished, so I think she probably headed right home. She
doesn’t usually hang out after work unless some of her girlfriends are in the
bar.”

“You have any cameras outside your business?” Jack asked.

Rick gave a sad half smile. “No. Is her car missing?”

“There’s a white Corolla parked at the house she shares with
Will. That’s what she drives, right?” Terry asked.

Rick nodded. “Will has a Dodge pickup. He was at the bar
yesterday, you know.”

Terry’s chin jerked up. “What? No, I didn’t know that.
When?”

“Early afternoon,” Rick said. “He came in and had his usual
argument with Patty and then left.”

“Usual argument? What’s that?” Lacey asked, remembering her
own ex-husband’s
usual arguments
. They ran the gambit of accusing
her of cheating on him to complaining about her clothing.

There were many reasons he was her ex.

Rick looked at her. “Whatever had set him off that day. He’d
come in, looking for a reason to bitch at her, she’d calm him down, and he’d
leave.”

“So he was calm when he left yesterday?” Terry leaned
forward in his seat, his gaze locked on the man.

“He seemed to be. I didn’t notice anything unusual. Patty
seemed fine after he left. There’s been days where he’ll leave her in tears,
but she usually lets what he says roll off her back. She’s told me that if she
let him get her down, she’d never be able to get out of bed in the morning. She
had a good attitude about her situation.”

Terry tapped his pencil on the table, not taking his gaze
off the big man. “I don’t understand their living situation. If it was so bad,
why were they still living together?”

“I’ve asked her the same question a million times.” Rick
slowly shook his head. “But she didn’t want to lose the house. She kept hoping
the market would turn around and they could sell it and get some of their money
out of it. In the meantime, she couldn’t afford to live anywhere else. I think
she spent as much time as possible at friends’ houses, but most of them have
families. No room for a single girl to hang out.”

“You know where Will could be?”

“I heard everyone was looking for him. He kill her?” Rick
asked bluntly.

“We don’t know. We’d like to talk to him,” Terry answered.
“Find out where he was last night. There’s talk he goes to a fishing cabin. You
heard of it?”

Rick nodded. “Patty was always happy when he’d vanish for a
few days to go fishing with his buddies.”

“Who’d he go with?”

Rick looked at the ceiling. “Stan Robinson. Jerry Calens. I
don’t know the other guys. Some live in Astoria, I think.”

Lacey spoke up. “What did Patty do if she was dating
someone? How do you bring a date back to the house if your ex-husband is
there?” How would her ex have acted if Jack had come home with her? The one
time he’d run into them in public, her ex had made a fool of himself.

“Patty didn’t date that I know of,” Rick said.

“Everyone talks about how pretty and sweet she was, and you
tell me she didn’t date?” asked Terry. “What about someone who lives out of
town?”

Rick shifted in his seat. “I never saw anyone. She never
said anything. I didn’t even hear any rumors. If she had a boyfriend somewhere,
she hid it good. Maybe you should ask one of her girlfriends.”

After Rick had left, Lacey grabbed Jack’s hand and squeezed
it, thankful he was sitting beside her. “I don’t think you would have stuck
around, if I’d been living with my ex-husband.”

Jack snorted. “I would have dragged you out of there and
knocked some sense into you. House be damned. There are some things not worth
hanging on to.” He leaned over and gave her a warm kiss, which she felt to her
toes. His silver gaze held hers. “I would have done anything to clear my path
to you.”

Lacey was lost in those eyes. “You did. You almost died.”

“And I’d do it again.”

“Jesus Christ. Get a room. Some of us are trying to work
here,” Terry muttered.

“Say the word and we’re out of here,” said Jack. “I don’t
know if we’re helping or not.”

Terry pulled out his vibrating cell phone and stared at the
screen.

“You guys have gotten me early information from the medical
examiner, insight into Will Marino’s life, and helped keep my two uniforms from
fucking up a murder scene before I got there. I appreciate it.”

He looked up from his phone and grinned at Jack. “Wanna go
fishing? Mathews just texted me the address of the cabin.”

Lacey felt ill from bouncing around in the backseat of
Terry’s SUV. A long stretch of the road was a mass of switchbacks that worked
their way up over a hill and then back down the other side to the river. She’d
politely allowed Jack the front seat for his long legs. She barely topped five
feet and was still the same size as during her years as a college gymnast. She
was used to squeezing into small spaces, but she hadn’t known this ride would
jolt her around like a roller coaster. Her blond ponytail had smacked her in
the face so many times that her cheek started to sting.

She glanced at the road behind them to make certain the two
cruisers with Garcia and Mathews were close behind. Clouds of dry dirt flew up
behind Terry’s vehicle. Garcia and Mathews hung back to avoid the worst of the
dust. Terry pulled to a stop at a wide part of the road, and Lacey scooted
forward to look out the front windshield. A hundred yards ahead was a small
cabin. Parked to the side was a pickup truck that used to be red. Now it was
more of a faded brick color.

“That his truck?” Jack asked.

“Yep.” Terry scanned the area. They were surrounded by tall
firs on both sides, but the cabin sat on a wide cleared patch of packed dirt.
Lacey could see that the land fell away behind the cabin, down to the river,
she assumed. Terry honked the horn.

“He have registered weapons?” Jack said softly.

“Yep to that question, too,” answered Terry as he honked the
horn again.

Jack turned around to meet Lacey’s gaze. “I want you to stay
in the vehicle.”

“What are you, made of steel?” she retorted. “I’m a much smaller
target. Besides, I assume Terry’s not going to let you out either.”

“Smart girl,” said Terry.

Jack glared at her, but closed his mouth. She gave a wide
smile.

“I assume you’re not armed?” Terry asked Jack.

“I’m on vacation. And property developers don’t walk around
armed. Usually.”

After leaving the police force, Jack had sworn to himself to
never pick up another gun. He’d broken that promise when he walked into a
killer’s den to find Lacey. Now he kept a weapon in a lockbox next to the bed.
A quick press of a code popped it open.

No one stepped out of the cabin. Terry inched his vehicle
closer. As the road widened into the yard area, the two cruisers pulled up
behind him. At about fifty feet away, he stopped and honked again.

“Maybe he went fishing,” Lacey whispered.

Terry looked at the two of them. “Stay here,” he ordered.
They both nodded.

Lacey watched Terry meet up with Garcia and Mathews for a
quick talk before moving in. Mathews and Garcia went to either side of the
cabin while Terry purposefully walked toward the front door. “Will?” he
hollered.

Lacey held her breath, waiting for the curtains to flutter
or the door to open.

Terry stepped up to the door, moved to the side, and pounded
on it.

Nothing. He pounded again.

He looked from Garcia to Mathews, who were positioned to get
a good view of the sides of the home. The only place for someone to leave was
straight out the back and down the steep bank.

Terry reached out and turned the knob, and the door swung
open. With his hand on his weapon, he stepped inside.

“Aw, shit. This is the worst part,” Jack mumbled. He’d
closed his eyes, and his hands clenched his thighs. After being shot, he
couldn’t mentally handle the unknown aspects that came with a cop’s job. He
needed to know he could always control his situations. An impossibility for a
police officer.

Lacey squeezed Jack’s shoulder and held her breath as Terry
vanished from view. The cabin looked small from the outside; there couldn’t be
many rooms to search. Terry reappeared seconds later and waved in the other
officers and Lacey and Jack. “He’s back,” she informed Jack. He sat straighter
and immediately reached for his door handle.

“That was fast,” said Jack as he helped Lacey step out. “He
couldn’t have checked everything in that short of time.”

Mathews and Garcia were headed back to their cars.

“What’s going on?” asked Jack.

“Got another body. Need the crime-scene equipment,” said
Garcia.

“What? Who?” Lacey asked, stunned to a stop.

“My guess is Will Marino,” Garcia said over his shoulder. He
popped his trunk and grabbed two large plastic cases.

Jack and Lacey slowly walked across the packed dirt. Terry
waited on the two-step concrete entry, his hands on his hips, watching his men
get their gear.

“Two bodies in one day,” he said as they stopped at the
bottom of the stoop. “I don’t know whether to blame my dumb luck or yours,” he
said to Jack.

“How about we each take credit for one?”

Terry didn’t smile.

“Is it Will Marino?” Lacey asked.

“Looks like his driver’s license picture. The hair anyway.
I’ll have Mathews take a look when he gets done puking.” Terry was looking past
them, a grim scowl on his face.

Lacey followed his gaze. Sure enough, Mathews had one hand
propped up against a tree as he heaved at its roots. “He didn’t even step
inside, did he?” she asked.

Then it hit her. The scent of death that had been locked up
in an airtight house with the sun pounding on its roof for a day. Her own
stomach heaved.

“I smelled it the second I opened the door,” said Terry.
“That’s something you never forget. Mathews hadn’t gotten any closer than you,
when I told him to go get his kit. He’ll get over it. He’s a good officer. He’s
just a bit green.”

Garcia stepped up and handed out booties and gloves. He had
a camera in his hand.

“Let’s get started,” Terry sighed. “Shoot everything.” He
stepped out of the way and let Garcia click his way into the cabin.

Lacey followed the men, who stepped carefully behind Garcia
as he took photos. She breathed through her mouth, wishing she had a mask. The
cabin was dim, but she could see that it was decorated in what she thought of
as fraternity style. Every piece of furniture looked like it’d been picked up
from a yard sale. A dartboard hung on one wall, the area around it covered with
holes from missed throws. Two mismatched couches, one plaid, one striped, were
pushed up against the far wall, with a large coffee table filling the space
between the couches and the big-screen TV.

No matter how poor a man’s furniture was, he always had a
big screen. She wondered at the logic of leaving such an expensive piece of
equipment out here in the wild but didn’t try to understand it. Fishing and
hunting magazines covered the coffee table. But things appeared rather neat and
clean for a male residence. The magazines were in tidy stacks, and blankets
were folded at the end of a couch. Even the three beer cans on the end table
were lined up in a row.

A low hum met Lacey’s ears.

“Oh no,” Lacey whispered. She knew what the hum could mean.

Stretched out on the plaid couch, like he was sound asleep,
was their body. Jack carefully switched on a light. There was the source of the
hum: a huge mass of black flies had found the dead man’s facial orifices.

“Dear God.” Garcia crossed himself and then wiped at his
brow.

Lacey tried to see past the flies. The hair looked like it
could belong to the face she’d seen on Will’s license photo. His body was
already starting to swell, his abdomen tight against his shirt as his internal
organs started putrefying from the inside out.

One arm dangled off the couch, a small gun just out of reach
of his fingertips. Lacey stepped closer and studied his head. She didn’t see an
entrance wound or an exit wound. “You got pictures all around his head?” she
asked Garcia. The young man nodded and continued his photography. Lacey gently
lifted the dead man’s head, feeling for an exit wound or some blood in his
hair. She didn’t find either one. She looked over the length of his body. No
blood. No injuries.

“It’s a .22. A Ruger,” Jack said. He’d crouched down to get
a better look at the gun.

He’d probably put the gun in his mouth.
She studied
the small black weapon on the floor. She knew crap about guns. But if the
caliber was small enough, like a .22, she knew it could ricochet inside the
skull and never find an exit.

“Did he kill himself?” Garcia asked.

“I don’t know,” Lacey said. “It’s possible.” She met Terry’s
questioning look. “I don’t know,” she repeated. “I can’t see an entrance wound
from a gunshot with all these flies in his mouth. He could have taken pills or
had a heart attack. We’re making assumptions based on the fact that there’s a
gun at his fingertips.”

Mathews stepped into the cabin, blocking the light from the
front door. He moved into the room, determination on his face. “What is that
noise?” He froze at the sight of the flies swarming over the dead man on the
couch. He spun on one foot and left. Lacey pulled away from the body and ran
into the kitchenette area, breathing deeply of the slightly better-smelling
air. Terry followed close behind.

“So what do you really think?” he asked. “Do we have a
suicide?”

She shook her head. “Ask the medical examiner. All I can
tell you is that he’s dead and there are a lot of flies that
aren’t
dead.”

“I called it in. Dr. Pillai said he could be here in an
hour,” Terry said.

“Can your men process this scene?” she asked. She’d never
seen such an inexperienced pair of cops. She was used to the big Portland
Police Department with its high-tech equipment and well-trained personnel. From
the other room, she heard Jack suggest camera angles to Garcia.

Terry nodded. “We’ll wait until the body is gone. Once that
happens, I think they’ll be okay. They’re good at following instructions.
They’ll get to the knowing-what-to-do stage eventually.”

Jack stepped into the kitchenette. “Garcia will do fine.
He’s got good instincts.” He held up a wallet and a set of keys. “Garcia
slipped these out of the body’s pocket while I held the camera. The wallet has
Will Marino’s driver’s license. And as far as a gun being fired, I could smell
it when I got a closer look. There was definitely gunfire.”

He pulled Lacey into his arms, and she buried her nose in
his chest, feeling instantly calmer. Jack had a way of sucking the nasty out of
her world and replacing it with a soothing coolness. He pressed his lips
against the top of her head. She loved that he’d show affection for her in
front of other men.

“When are you two getting married?” Terry asked.

“Next summer,” she said, her words muffled against Jack’s
shirt. “If we don’t run away first.”

“My wife and I got married in Reno,” said Terry. “Just the
two of us. It was great.”

Reno sounded good to Lacey.

“There’s no sign of any sort of struggle in here,” said
Jack.

Back to death talk.
Lacey lifted her head and moved
out of Jack’s arms.

“I noticed that, too,” said Terry. “Looks like Will felt a
bit regretful about killing his ex-wife. Or else was really worried about what
could happen to him in prison I’m thinking our morning murder mystery might be
cleared up before midnight. Although I’d like to know why Patty was in a
wedding dress. And I wonder why he came all the way up here to shoot himself,”
he said. “Why didn’t he just do it at home?”

Was Terry assuming Patty’s murder was solved?
“Are
you sure you’re done?” asked Lacey. “You don’t know that Will killed Patty for
certain.”

Terry eyed her, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned
against the tiny kitchen counter. “Well, I guess if the ME says Will’s death
wasn’t suicide, then we’ll take another look at things.”

“Dr. Pillai won’t have anything for you until late
tomorrow,” pressed Lacey. “He won’t have time to look at Will tonight. If Will
isn’t
your killer, you’re wasting some precious hours.”

Annoyance flashed across Terry’s face, and Lacey instantly
felt horrible, but she stood her ground.

This isn’t my case.

But the sight of that dead woman in a wedding gown would
never leave her brain. It could have easily been her in that hot tub. She’d
been stuck in a marriage with a man who struggled with depression and anger.
She’d stood in Patty’s shoes but found the strength to get out. She felt she
owed it to the woman to make certain every rock was overturned in finding her
killer.

Something about the scene in the next room was poking at
her. From what she knew of her single male friends, it was nearly impossible
for them to leave a room that uncluttered. There was almost nothing out of
place.

An idea lit up her brain. She opened the fridge and studied
the contents.

“Careful what you touch,” said Terry.

She was still gloved. “I know.” Her mind raced at full
speed. She closed the fridge and rooted through the garbage. She pulled out an
empty plastic fifth of rum and several Coke cans.
Rum and Coke
. Then she
found a plastic grocery bag with the receipt still inside. Goose bumps rose on
her arms as she read the slip.

“Here. Look at this grocery receipt. It’s for yesterday.
Someone paid cash for steaks, two bags of Doritos, and beer in the
midafternoon.” She held the receipt for Terry to see. “Where is this store?”

“That’s about halfway between here and Seaport.”

“Okay. So somebody bought food on the way up here.” She
opened the fridge again and pointed. “Look, the steaks are still here. All
three pounds that are on the receipt. If you’re going to kill yourself and have
a last meal of steak and beer, why wouldn’t you eat your steaks first? Rib
eyes, good cuts of meat. Someone was looking forward to this meal and spent the
money for a high-quality steak.” She looked in the fridge again. “And where’s
the beer? There should be a six-pack of Coors Light. I saw three empties in the
other room next to Will. Where are the rest? They’re not in the garbage can I
just looked through.” She carefully rooted around in the other cupboards.
“Maybe there’s a recycling bin outside?”