Murder in Roseville

by Denise McGee

  I found the driver a couple minutes later as I squelched my way past the base of the tree. The driver was crumpled on the ground in a low depression. He lay on his back, head closest to the car, turned at an awkward angle. He was dead also. Another broken neck.

  He'd been the type of guy that suited the car. Good looking from what I could tell, though he was pretty beaten up. He wore quality clothing and an expensive watch. I caught the glint of gold on the victim’s hand - married too. Husband and wife getting away for a couple days? No. Something wasn't quite right.

  I wondered about the opened and scattered suitcase, also. Funny things happened to the contents of vehicles when they're in a crash. I’d seen items transferred completely from the back seat of one car to the back seat of another. But this felt different and I couldn't put my finger on the why.

  I traipsed back to the car, knowing procedure dictated I touch nothing until pictures had been taken and the Medical Examiner had cleared the scene. I needed answers, though. I touched the tips of my fingers to the car and images swarmed before my eyes like a 90s music video with the sound off. Fear, haste, and murder played out in flickering scenes.

  *****

  Bags were thrown into the trunk. The lid slammed down, Ferrari symbol glinting. The man urging the woman to get into the car, both hustling, faces white, tension in their small, jerky movements. They sped out of the lot of a low building - nondescript in that boxy windowed way such places had. My guess was one or more of the fleeing couple worked there.

  *****

  The car traveled down a tree-lined road. This road, I saw. Not speeding anymore. The driver looked more relaxed. He made a remark to the woman that garnered him a faint smile. Neither noticed the darkish SUV coming up fast on their rear until too late.

  The SUV flickered oddly in the dappled sunlight through the heavy tree cover. I couldn't tell what its exact color was, the filtered light acted like a strobe. It hit the back corner of the Ferrari, forcing it off the road and into the tree.

  *****

  The woman sat dazed in the front passenger seat, opened airbag sagging to her lap. She'd been impaled with a branch and plucked at it with numb fingers, her breath coming in short gasps. I didn't think she was aware of what she was doing.

  Movement to her right got her attention. She turned her head and tried to shrink into her seat, but she was pinned like an insect. There was a man there - his face in the shadows - tossing clothes from the bags. I growled in frustration, straining to see what the man looked like, but what little light remained was to the figure’s back.

  The man noticed her staring at him. She must have been unconscious until now. He apparently asked her a question because she shook her head. He asked again, got the same shake of the head but this time she tried to speak as well. He cut her off mid-sentence by reaching out and grabbing her face. He punctuated the third time he asked with emphatic shakes to her head, hard enough to give me a headache. I could imagine how it felt to her after being in the accident.

  Her eyes were huge, flecked with fear and unshed tears. I wondered how she was still conscious with the branch bisecting her shoulder and the man shaking her.

  When her third answer failed to give the man his desired result, he jerked her head hard and I imagined I could hear the crack of her neck breaking. Her head slumped over into the position I had found her in and the scene shifted one last time.

  *****

  The fading light had gone and all I could see was the orange coal of a waning cigarette. It spun into darkness at the foot of the tree, tossed by a careless hand.

  *****

  The images faded from my mind's eye and my vision slowly cleared. I looked again at the woman and shook my head. I couldn't feel emotions when I had visions of the things I touched, but it didn't stop the impression of what the victims felt from touching me afterward. She hadn't had a chance

  I climbed the slippery scrub to my car, absorbed in what I'd seen. Someone wanted something very badly indeed. I needed to station a unit here all night, so the scene could be gone over in daylight. The carelessly tossed cigarette had to be retrieved and hopefully, there would be other evidence as well.

  There was still no traffic when I reached the road. I got some flares from the glove box while I called dispatch.

  As I popped the flares and moved the branch to the other side of the road, I thought about the scenes I'd witnessed. Running those two off the road was the act of someone without a lot to lose. Hopefully, the adage about desperate people making mistakes would hold true and I could wrap this up without any more incidents.

  The roar of an engine in the distance caught my attention as I gave the branch a small push with my foot to knock it further into the ditch. I crossed to my car, checking to make sure the flares were fully visible to the approaching vehicle and heard dispatch signaling me.

  "Go for March," I said into the mike, grabbing my notebook.

  "Plates come back to a Nathan Edwards. 946 Macons Terrace, Roseville. White male, 32, 5'11", brown hair, brown eyes." Sounded like the driver.

  "Marital status?"

  "Married. Laurel Wentworth. Same address. White female, 32, 5'8", brown hair, hazel eyes." Not the passenger. Wait. Laurel Wentworth?

  "Dispatch, could you repeat the spouse's name?"

  "Yes, sir. Laurel Wentworth." Frisson jingled down my spine at the name. Laurel Wentworth was a well-known writer of romantic thrillers. My mother was addicted to them and I'd been pressed into reading them to her when her eyesight faded. To my surprise, I'd enjoyed them more than I had expected. I looked at my passenger seat to see her face peering up at me from the back of her latest paperback.

  "Copy."

  Interesting. Based upon the suitcases, it looked as if Mr. Edwards was taking a trip with the mistress. I looked again at the image of Laurel Wentworth that graced her book and couldn't understand it. She was gorgeous; high cheekbones, a lush mouth with just a hint of a dimple in the corner, eyes a man could get lost in. It had to be someone with the same name. No man would be crazy enough to cheat on a woman like that.

  The engine noise got louder, and I stepped onto the road, prepared to direct the traveler around the scene.

  A cruiser appeared on the horizon, speeding with its lights flashing. I looked at my watch in surprise. It was twenty minutes sooner than I expected anyone else to arrive.

  As it got closer I saw the 17 on the front bumper. Hausner. That was also unexpected. If I'd thought about at all I'd have assumed Gadomski would be the first responder. Hausner should have been on the opposite end of town tonight and it should have taken him a full hour to get there.

  Hausner pulled up behind my car, window already rolled down. I strolled back to Hausner’s door.

  "Hey, Lieutenant."

  I nodded a greeting. "They still got you on nights?" Hausner was dumpy in the way older cops sometimes get. Too much sitting in a squad car and not enough action. Late nights were usually dull in our town.

  He grinned, "You know me, I like the dark. What'd you find, Lieutenant?"

  "Flattened Ferrari. The driver was thrown from the car. He's in a small clearing about five feet in front of the car. A female passenger is still strapped in her seat. Both dead. We'll need pictures of everything before the ME gets here. Make sure you get full coverage of him, her, the car and all the scattered debris. The rain's ruined a lot of the evidence but do the best you can." I looked back towards the car. “Be careful. The grass is slick and there are hidden briars.”

  "Gotcha." Hausner got out his equipment and set to work, the flash from the camera telling me he was following orders and capturing the scene with photos.

  I was staking the scene - the cold trickle of rain oozing down my back from drops landing on my head - when the coroner showed up with the EMTs. Hausner had finished taking pictures and sat in his cruiser, sketching the scene.

  "Hey, Doc."

  "Hello, Aaron. Miserable night isn't it?"

  "It sure is. The
scene is ready for you, whenever you want to get started."

  "Excellent. The less time I've got to be out in this the better." He motioned for his helpers to follow him and trekked cautiously to the coupe.

  I finished cordoning off the perimeter and tramped over to the doc and his crew. They'd taken the woman's body up to the ambulance and were hovering over the man.

  "Any surprises, Doc?"

  "A couple of oddities. The man isn't positioned as I would expect. His head should have been pointed away from the vehicle, but - as I'm sure you noticed - it wasn't."

  "Yeah, I saw that, but it didn't connect for some reason. What else?"

  "I can't determine a reason for the woman's neck to have broken. We'll have to run some tests back at the lab to see if we can duplicate it. Incidentally, we found her purse in the driver's seat. It was open, and the contents scattered. Kurt took some pictures in case Hausner didn't catch it."

  "Thanks, Doc. Any ID for her?"

  He handed me her driver's license. "Gina Vossen."

  I clipped it to my notebook and nodded. "You about ready to haul him out of here?"

  "In a little bit. Do you need his ID as well?"

  "Nathan Edwards, right? That's the owner of the car and the description matched."

  "That is correct."

  "Great, Doc. I'm gonna go inform the families. Let Hausner know when you're done so he can notify dispatch. I think I'm gonna have him babysit the scene until daylight, so he can check it over for anything the night hid."

  "Will do." He turned back to the body, dismissing me from his mind.

  I navigated my way back to the road and gave Hausner the news that he had a boring wait ahead of him as I got into my car. Hausner was thrilled.

  "Wonderful. I don't even have any reading material with me and my data is gone."

  "I got ya covered." I grinned as held up the copy of Laurel Wentworth's latest book. "I bought this for my mom but I'm willing to donate it to a good cause."

  Hausner glared at me. "Funny." But he held out his hand. Even reading a romance is better than sitting in a car in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do for several hours.

  I handed it to him with an odd reluctance. Even though I'd made the offer I already missed her face watching me from the other seat.

  Snap out of it March, I laughed at myself as I started the car and headed down the road. It was going to be a long enough night without indulging in flights of fancy.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Facts of the Case

  AARON

  Forty minutes after I left the scene of the accident I was pulling into the drive of a pretty ranch on Macons Terrace. I glanced at my watch as I opened the car door. Just after 3 am. A great time to be awoken with the news that your husband was dead.

  I took a deep breath and exited the car, closing the door as quietly as I could. The rain had stopped at some point, but I hadn't noticed while I was still under the trees. The steady plop plop plop of drops falling from leaves had hidden the fact.

  I traversed the well-landscaped yard and climbed the steps to her wide porch. It was decorated nicely for an outdoor space. Lots of potted plants and a swing plus additional chairs folded against the corner. In the daytime, it was probably a pleasant oasis to relax in.

  I crossed to the door, the damp scent of potting soil making me sneeze. The entryway was the type that had sidelights and a transom - hers were made of stained glass - surrounding a solid door. I pressed the bell a couple of times. Experience had taught me that one ring was never enough to wake people from a sound sleep.

  I waited a couple minutes and then rang the bell again. Almost immediately the porch light flipped on and a light feminine voice came through the door. "Who's there?"

  I nodded to myself. She didn't open the door. I wouldn’t have opened it in the middle of the night either.

  "Lieutenant Aaron March of the Roseville Police Department, ma'am. Are you Laurel Wentworth?"

  A pause. "Can I see some ID, please? Just hold it up to the window."

  I was amused until I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a clear pane. I'd been trudging around in underbrush in the rain and it showed. I had mud on one pant leg and a small leaf plastered to my neck. At some point, I'd run my hand through my wet hair as well. It stuck up at odd angles.

  "I apologize for my appearance, ma'am," I said, holding up the soft leather wallet containing my badge and ID with one hand and trying to flatten my wayward hair with the other. I pressed the wallet to the reflective piece of glass, cutting off the view of myself.

  The door opened with a soft click and she was framed in the opening. My breath caught in my throat. With her hair tousled from sleep and wearing a yellow summer nightgown that was all but see-through - she was even more gorgeous than I imagined.

  "Has something happened to Nathan?" Her voice was low, tight and I could see fear leap to life in her eyes.

  I cleared my throat, pulling my mind back to my duties. "Can we go in and sit? I'm afraid I have some bad news."

  She paled, one hand lifting to cover her heart, the other clenching itself in the soft folds of her nightgown. My heart gave a leap in my chest, shocking me. I knew I had what amounted to a schoolgirl crush on Laurel - in the way fans admire actors or musicians - but I wasn't prepared for reality to affect me like this.

  She stepped back from the doorway, preceding me into the room beyond. I'd had expectations of the room based on the porch and I wasn't disappointed. Understated elegance was how the room would be described in magazines. It was the type of room that cost a lot of money to make it look unaffected by wealth.

  It wasn't an overlarge room. There was a cozy sitting area in front of the fireplace that dominated the wall to the right. A high table by the door held assorted decor and a basket for keys. A runner flowed across the hardwood floor behind the couch and there were more potted plants scattered throughout the corners of the room.

  There were two exits from the room beside the front door. One appeared to lead to a hallway and presumably the bedrooms, the other into a kitchen. Odd that a house this size didn't appear to have a dining room.

  As I followed her to the sofa, I found myself strangely conflicted. Part of me rejoiced in finally meeting her, part of me hated her distress, part of me hoped she'd turn to me for comfort, and part of me knew that was a very bad idea. The gentle sway of her hips beneath the thin gown wasn’t helping, either. I averted my eyes and reminded myself she was a new widow.

  She sat down on the couch, pulled a pillow into her lap and cuddled it against her chest as if it could protect her heart from the impending pain. My chest did another one of those odd thumps.

  I ignored it.

  I headed for a high-backed chair opposite of Laurel. Normally, I would have sat next to her, but I was too unsettled by her presence. I lodged myself into the surprisingly comfy chair like it was a shield.

  I cleared my throat and opened my mouth to speak but she beat me to it.

  "He's dead, isn't he?" Her voice was nearly a whisper, but the question took on a life of its own in the stillness of the room.

  "I'm afraid he is, ma'am." I kept my tone low, smooth and soothing. The acoustics in the room had me a little spooked - the last thing I wanted was for her to feel like I was being boisterous in the face of her grief. "He ran his car into a tree and wasn't wearing a seatbelt."

  She paled a little and nodded, her hands spasmodically clenching and unclenching on the pillow she held.

  "Is there someone you can call to come to stay with you? You'll have to come down to the morgue tomorrow to identify him, of course - and make arrangements - but you shouldn't be alone tonight."

  She looked uncertain. "I suppose I could call Gina. She just got back from Cabo, but I doubt she'll mind."

  I felt an uncomfortable chill. "Gina Vossen?"

  She nodded, startled. "She's been my best friend since grade school. Do you know her?"

  I suppressed a groan and delivered the re
st of the news. "Ma'am, Gina Vossen was a passenger in your husband's car. I'm afraid she didn't make it either." I paused for a moment. "They both had luggage with them. Were they going on a business trip by chance?"

  Her eyes deadened, and her lips twitched into a sad semblance of a smile as she responded. "Yes, they worked together but there's no work reason for them to have suitcases."

  She looked down at her fingers and hugged the pillow a little tighter. "Gina. I knew he was with someone. I just didn't expect it to be her. That almost hurts worse than knowing they're both dead."

  She paused, and she must have been shocked at the bald words for she repeated them. "They're both dead." And she started to cry.

  I rose from my chair and sat next to her on the sofa. She fit nicely into my arms as she wept out the first rush of grief on my shoulder.

  After a long moment, she pulled away from me with an apology. A sweet scent I couldn’t place filled my head as I let my arms drop and moved a little away from her. She made it hard to concentrate.

  Clearing my throat, I asked, "Is there anyone else you can call? A family member, perhaps?"

  "I don't have any family and neither does...did...Nathan." She took a deep shuddering breath. Tears still trickled down her cheeks. "I could call Cheryl, I guess. She's my agent."

  "You don't have any other friends?"

  She glanced at the clock on the wall. "Nikki's working. And Cheryl is a friend as well as my agent. I'm afraid I don't mingle much. I don't deal well with crowds."

  She called Cheryl, and once I gave her my card I was glad to make my escape.

  I drove back to the scene of the accident the next afternoon, the packet with the crime photos on my passenger seat. I'd only had time for a cursory glance through them before I headed out the door. I realized that Hausner hadn't returned my book when he'd given me the photos and it amused me to think Hausner had wanted to finish it first.

  I parked my car in the same place on the side of the road and got out. Between the EMS, Coroner and wrecker crew the area was pretty well trampled, but I wanted to be thorough and see if anything new showed up during the daytime despite the mess.