by Deanna King
Loren made a point. So what did happen in this room? The three men stood pondering the situation for a short minute, then walked back into the bedroom where the woman lay.
“Loren, what’s your take on this?” He gestured to the dead woman. He already had his own idea of the situation. Seeing it through another person’s eyes gave him ideas. He knew people didn’t see exactly the same thing the exact same way, and another view was sometimes helpful.
“Hmm, well, with the shot in the throat I figure she was standing about here.” He stepped to the side of where the woman’s body lay. “She took a full frontal shot. If it was a straight shot to her thyroid, she would have died almost instantly; that’s the M.E.’s call of course. All the blood on her hands tells me that her hands went up to her neck, an automatic reaction. I think she drowned in her own blood in a matter of seconds. Again, that’s a Bennie call.”
“Lucky, what do you think?
“That’s a reasonable explanation, Loren, but did you see the blood smear?”
“What blood smear?” Loren stooped over her searching for the smear.
“There, by her right hand, next to her pinky and ring finger.”
Jack hunched over. “Good catch, Lucky.” A smear that resembled the toe of a shoe and Jack looked at her right side, then back to the blood smear.
“Hmm, looks like her killer nudged her, to see if she was dead. There’s a small spot of blood on her shirt that seems to be nowhere near any other bloody areas. The killer musta set his foot here, close to blood that was pooling under her.”
They all bent over staring at the smear.
“Make sure to check for blood on the other victim’s shoes. What about the blood spatter on the shooter? If the dead man in there had been the shooter, what’d he do, clean up and change shirts before he took his own life?” Jack’s brow crinkled. That would be dumb.
Loren hunkered to view the blood smear better. “I’ll be damned, I didn’t see it. I know I took pictures of it because I snapped her at every angle and close-ups. Man, I can’t believe I missed that.”
He hated missing things and he hardly ever did. Loren looked crestfallen and Jack couldn’t help but laugh.
“Loren, it happens to all of us, no worries, man. You’re one of the best. Shit, I missed it too. Lucky got…well, lucky. Besides, Bennie would have had all of our backs.”
“Are you three girls talking nice about me?” Houston’s top-notch M.E. walked into the room.
“Ben Gay, dude, I haven’t seen you in a while. They have you locked up at the morgue day and night. Betcha it’s nice to get out in the sunlight?”
“I do get to leave my hole and get out and about from time to time and talk to real people and unreal people. By the way, where’s Cheech?” He let out a robust laugh.
Vince Stoner had come up behind him. “Hey, Doogie, I’m here, they called for the best, and I came running.”
“Christ, Cheech, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me Doogie, I’d rather you call me Shorty.” Bennie hated the name Doogie Howser.
“I’m sorry, can’t help myself.” He winked at Bennie. “Jack, I’m done with the room across the hall, didn’t get much, but who knows, huh?”
“Yep, who knows?”
Bennie took a gander at the body of victim number one.
“Where’s vic number two?” Bennie looked up at Jack.
He pointed to the bathroom. “In there.”
Bennie trotted off to see what that situation was.
“Find bullets or casings in here with this vic, Lord and Taylor?” Lucky bent over the dead woman then glanced up at where he thought the bullet would have gone.
“We found a slug in the windowsill on that wall.” He pointed it out. “We extracted it and bagged it. It’s pretty flattened, the windowsill is thicker wood.”
Jack walked over to where the circle marked the spot where CSU had dug out the slug.
“The casing is right here.”
Dawson Luck walked to where the casing was marked, and then turned around.
“I’d say she was standing by the window by this chair, her back to the window. The shooter had to have been standing right about here.”
He moved over a few feet from the side of the fireplace hearth.
“She took a frontal shot to her throat. If they were in a heated argument and he already had the gun in his pocket, and she walked over here, he was behind her, and then she turned around…blam. If that were the case he would have been close enough to put one dead center into her chest, why’d he shoot her in the throat?”
“Well, that’s a good question.” Loren nodded.
Lucky continued. “The bullet, small caliber, went straight through. If it hit her in the spinal cord at just the right angle, she died instantly, or she aspirated in seconds. No evidence of a struggle either.”
“She either knew her shooter, or it was the biggest surprise she never saw coming.” Jack frowned.
“Okay, dudes, gonna help Cheech finish up.”
“Thanks, Loren. Any more ideas come to mind, let us know.”
With that, Loren Taylor took off to help his partner wrap things up for the CSU unit.
Bennie Guay took charge of the bodies. CSU was finished, but Jack West and Dawson Luck’s work had just begun.
Standing in the hallway, her body was visible. Jack glanced back. “Damn shame, you know. What’d the housekeeper say?”
They moved out of the doorway when the assistants with the body bags and gurneys appeared. Bennie was being his short bossy self. “Hey, not yet, don’t move a thing until I say you can, you hear?”
Luck watched him work as he answered Jack.
“She confirmed she’s worked for the Stegwigs for eight years. Said they were nice people. The lady, the Mrs., spoke Spanish and that made her more comfortable with her employer. She worked when they were out of the house. But a few weeks ago, the woman had been home on Wednesday when she arrived to work, which had surprised her. It happened last Wednesday and the Wednesday before that. She was dressed in nice clothes, not her usual gym attire.”
“Did she say why?”
“She’s not the intrusive type, but she did ask her if she had a job now. Mrs. Stegwig had told her no, she had a very important meeting.”
“Did she say with whom?”
“Nope, like I said, she minds her own business and left it at that. That was last Wednesday, five days ago. She told me the woman had a decent size bruise on her right cheek and her eye was getting purple; someone had smacked her hard across the cheek. The housekeeper asked her if she was all right and the woman said she was fine, it was nothing. I asked her if she believed that and she told me no because she knows what it looks like when a woman gets hit by a man, she has a sister-in-law that went through that.”
“Let’s go see what else we can find out from the neighbor. Bennie, we’re headed down, talk to you before you leave.”
Bennie gave then an above-the-head hand wave. He was bent over the dead woman, all his attention on the job.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Both the bodies were bagged and on gurneys as the M.E.’s assistants waved adios to both Jack and Lucky.
“You guys gonna be here a while, huh?” the newest member from the forensic lab commented as he helped wheel out the second gurney.
Jack inhaled and exhaled; it was going to be a late night.
Lucky pouted. Cripes, this messed up his date night with his wife.
“Date night?” Jack grinned when he saw his partner’s face.
“Hell, I live with that bod
acious scrumptious woman, but I sure do enjoy date night.”
“Hey, pard, you have a woman. I haven’t had a date in months. I’ve been too busy. Besides, who would want this ragged, rough, old cowboy?” Jack heard someone clear her throat behind him.
Cass stood there smiling, her white teeth contrasted with her light chocolate-brown skin, and she put her hand up to her mouth to try to hide her smile.
“Cass?” Jack turned to face her.
She did an inward laugh, pressing her lips together before she spoke. “If you were to listen to the gossip in the secretary pool in the department, you’d know that there are quite a few of the ladies that say you are, hmm…how do they say it, a tall drink of water on a hot summer day.” A huge grin covered her face, and she tried to suppress her giggles.
His face blushed, three shades of pink, and Cass managed to get him out of his embarrassing moment, adding in, “And the neighbor is in the front room waiting to see if you want to talk to her. She has things to do this afternoon, she can’t ‘wait all day for you.’ Her words, not mine.”
“Come on, tall drink. Let’s go talk to the neighbor, get her while she’s fresh.” Lucky waggled his caterpillar eyebrows, as Groucho Marx would have done.
“Don’t start, Lucky, if you know what’s good for you,” he retorted, his face now one shade of pink and fading. He left Lucky standing there with a huge grin.
Cass grinned, and she and Lucky did a fist bump…were they bonding? Who knew?
“Ms. McGovern.” He put his hand out. “Sorry to have to meet you this way but we do have a few questions. This is Detective Luck, and I’m Detective West.” She was shaken up. Her face pasty colored, her eyes puffy from crying, and he knew she had zero plans for the afternoon; she wanted to go home.
“Tell you what, how about we go get some fresh air?”
Ms. McGovern stood. She was unbalanced and wavered, and he took her arm to steady her. Any other time he would have chalked that up to her advanced age, however, today it was a combination of shock and age.
“Thank you, I’d like that.”
She walked to the front door not once looking back or toward the stairwell that led to death, death of people she had known. He walked behind her, making sure she didn’t topple over.
“Do you recall the last time you saw Mr. or Mrs. Stegwig?” Jack began, notebook in hand.
“I believe that would have been Thursday evening. I waved at them both. They had gotten home about fifteen minutes apart, about six or six-thirty.”
Then they were alive on Thursday, at least at six-thirty p.m.
“Ma’am, do you know where their son,” Dawson Luck referred to his notes, “Sean Stegwig would be right now?”
“Of course, he would be at work. He has his own company doing IT work. Now, what did he name his company?” She put her right forefinger on her mouth trying to recall. Jack was patient.
“It is on the tip of my tongue, Red something. No, wait, the name’s Red Hawk Tel-Com. I think that is short for Telecommunications.”
“Red Hawk Telecommunications…never heard of it.” Jack scribbled the name.
“He started this company about ten months ago. His father helped him and now…” She trailed off, her hand to her face, quite clearly distressed.
“Ms. McGovern, did you know if the Stegwigs were having any personal difficulty?”
“Like what? I mean, I don’t know about their finances, but the wife, Marta, occasionally talked to me. She always said I was a good listener, and that every so often it’s good to talk to someone, you know?”
Jack and Dawson both nodded, a sympathetic head-tilt bobble.
“Ma’am, what did you and she talk about?” Lucky prompted taking the lead.
“About her and Marcus fighting.”
“And were you aware of what they argued about?”
He saw her face flush then turn beet red. She hesitated, and then pursed her lips in a tight thin line. That was when Lucky knew that Jack needed to take over so he did his “look.” Jack was a better people person; Lucky at least knew his own shortcomings.
“Ma’am, I understand that you don’t want to betray a confidence, but as I see it, Marta Stegwig has had the worst of all betrayals. Someone took her life. Our job is to put the pieces together to get closure for her family and for the community. We have to get all of our facts, and that means getting any information to help us solve this terrible crime. Do you understand?”
The older woman’s eyes teared up. “Marta was talking to a divorce lawyer. She told me that Marcus didn’t know it yet.” The old woman puckered her face in thought. “I guess I can tell you now, but he was mean to her and hurt her. Their son Sean didn’t live in the house, he didn’t know or didn’t care, he was a daddy’s boy.”
Lucky chimed in. “What can you tell us about the son, ma’am? When was the last time you saw him?”
“Sean…let me think, I saw him or rather heard him come home Thursday night. I suppose he went to work on Friday, but I didn’t hear his motorcycle. I did hear him come home late Friday night, my cat was mewing, and I had to let her in. I heard him open then close the garage, or I think it was him. No one left, I would have heard the motorcycle or the car.”
“He was in the house Thursday and Friday night, then?” Jack picked up the questioning.
She lifted her shoulders when she answered, “I’m not sure. He lives in the pool house his dad converted for him. It’s his private apartment. He needed that ‘I’m on my own’ feeling, Marta told me once, but they supported him. Marta said they saw him on weekends, but not often. If he happened to show up on Saturday or Sunday, sometimes they’d eat a meal together. Breakfast, lunch, or dinner, but that depended on Sean and if he wasn’t with his own friends or the few strange friends he had. Those family meals were very infrequent, and Marta told me he didn’t have any real friends.” Her nose crinkled in disgust, the old woman wasn’t exactly fond of the boy.
“Was he around this weekend, after you saw him on Thursday?”
“I am not sure because my daughter came to get me Saturday morning. She comes to get me one Saturday a month so I can see my grandchildren and spend the day with them. You know I don’t drive as much as I used to, just short distances, and she lives in Pasadena.”
“Yes, ma’am, now, back to Sean Stegwig…ma’am, when did you see him last?”
“Oh, I heard him leaving about six a.m. this morning; I guess he was off to work. He drives a car and a motorcycle, and today I heard him leave on the motorcycle, it’s loud.”
“Do you recall if he was home this weekend or not?”
“No, like I said, I was at my daughter’s and she picks me up around six in the morning, that way I have a longer visit. That boy goes out on Friday nights. He wakes me up when he gets home at three in the morning if he is driving his motorcycle. My room is at the backside upstairs, and he doesn’t always use the garage entry. He goes through the side gate of the house by the corner, and then he goes through the back gate to the pool house. To be honest, I don’t always hear the garage door open even though it is on the same side as my bedroom. I am an old woman, and my hearing isn’t like it was in my younger days. But, it’s that damn motorcycle. Oh, I am sorry I said a bad word.” She covered her mouth with her hand and blushed.
Both detectives smiled. If that was the worst bad word she ever said, she was a saint compared to most others.
She was thinking and she held up one finger. “I did hear the garage door on Saturday night, come to think of it, but I didn’t hear the motorcycle. Sometimes he took his father’s car, a Lexus, very nice. Sean takes his father’s car when he has a rare date and not his old car, the one that need
s a paint job. He wants to impress the girl, you know.”
“One more question and then we’ll let you go. I am sure you’re ready to get home and try to relax.”
“Yes, I’d like to go home.”
He knew this was tough on her. Perhaps her daughter needed to come get her and let her stay a few days, not just one full day.
“Do you know if Mrs. Stegwig was seeing another man, did she confide in you?” His mind went to the deceased wife, and he wondered if she had a boyfriend in the wings.
“I don’t know, although Marta talked about her fitness coach. His name is Rob or Robbie something, he is over at the Crestview Gym. I think that’s the name of the place.”
A trip to Crestview Gym would be their next stop. Less than forty-five minutes later, she had told them all she knew, she had Jack’s card and she would call if something did come to mind.
“Ms. McGovern, it’s the small things that can break a case when you don’t think it matters. Call me anytime no matter how trivial you think it is. I think you should take precautions and be sure to lock your deadbolts when you are at home. We don’t know what we are dealing with yet.”
“Oh yes, of course, I always do.” There was fear in her eyes as her now upstanding neighborhood, violated in the worst possible way—two dead, murdered or not—would plague this community.
They watched her walk next door, disappear into her own house, more than sure she had dead-bolted her front door.
“Nice old lady,” Lucky said as he closed his notebook and put it and his pen into his inside breast pocket.
“Too bad she lives right next door to such an awful mess. Come on, Luck, let’s go see Bennie before we leave. Then see if we can catch the guy Rob or Robbie something at Crestview Gym and then head over to Red Hawk Communications to make a death notification.”
“Jack, I’ll get them back to the morgue, let you know what I find. If I didn’t know better, I’d agree with Loren. If there were a gun, it would be a murder/suicide, but no gun.” Bennie shrugged. “Then I can’t say. What I do know is that neither of these victims got up afterward and disposed of a gun. The bullet impact print on the man’s head says two things—someone held a gun to his head and blew out his brains, or he did it himself. Or the shooter moved the body into an upright position. The shooter had the vic sitting there and wanted it to look like suicide, but then why take the freaking gun?”
