by A. P. Eisen
Diagnosis: Death (The Paul Monroe Mysteries, Book 2)
December 2019
Copyright © 2019 by A.P. Eisen
Kindle Edition
Cover Art by Reese Dante
Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from A.P. Eisen at www.apeisen.com.
Published in the United States of America
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
About the Book
When a body is found in the park, Paul Monroe knows two things: this isn’t a simple mugging, and the weekend he has planned with his boyfriend is officially over before it begins. With no murder weapon but a slew of suspects at the ready, Paul and his partner, Rob, begin the tedious task of piecing together the few clues they have.
Happier than he’s ever been, Cliff knows there’s more to Paul than the tough exterior the man shows to the world, but Cliff is determined to take things slow. An unexpected phone call forces him to revisit the pain of his past, and now he needs Paul more than ever, but he’s hesitant to ask, unwilling to pressure Paul into a decision he might not be ready to make.
Paul’s investigation means more long nights away from Cliff, who is grappling with his unsettling news. Not being able to support Cliff isn’t sitting right with Paul, and for the first time his personal life is as important as his job. Knowing he has Paul to lean on gives Cliff the courage to speak and to heal old wounds as they navigate the minefield of building a relationship. Meanwhile, a killer walks the streets of Thornwood Park, and Paul won’t be satisfied until they are caught and justice served.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
About the Book
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Acknowledgements
About A.P. Eisen
Also by A.P. Eisen
DIAGNOSIS: DEATH
By
A.P. EISEN
Dedication
To my father. I did it, Daddy! All those years of reading mysteries finally paid off.
CHAPTER ONE
Murder had an uncanny way of screwing up a perfect Saturday.
Paul Monroe had everything planned for the afternoon. It had been a busy few weeks, spending long hours investigating a string of burglaries in the business district after dark with his partner, which meant stakeouts and late nights away from Cliff. He couldn’t risk losing Cliff before their relationship had a chance to get off the ground, so it was important for Paul to do something special to show him he looked forward to spending time together. Paul wanted to be more than the bulldog they called him at the office for his tenacious dedication to work.
His plan of action started with them taking their usual weekend morning run through the park. Later, Paul would open the champagne he’d sneaked into the refrigerator to chill and call in for the special meal he had on order from Maria’s, their favorite Italian restaurant. Thinking about the night ahead, his anticipation was at level Let’s Get Going!
Everything was set. That was, until halfway through their run, when Paul got the call that would ruin the rest of his day.
“Monroe.” He slowed down to a fast walk, Cliff matching his stride.
“Detective, are you in the city?”
At the sound of Lieutenant Kraft’s voice, instinctively, Paul straightened and stopped in his tracks.
“Yes, sir.”
Cliff caught his eyes and raised his brows.
Paul mouthed, Lieutenant, and Cliff nodded, walked to a bench a yard or so away, and began to stretch.
“Jogger found a body in the park.”
“I’m in the park right now, sir.”
“Well, haul ass over to the northwest corner by Park Circle and Ash. That’s where they are. Got the coroner and the usual group heading over now as well.”
Shit. Paul ran his hand through his hair and darted a quick glance over to Cliff, now sitting on the bench, checking his phone. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
He didn’t mention being there with Cliff. Paul and Cliff had been together for three months, yet the only one he’d publicly come out to was his partner and best friend, Rob Gormley. There had never been a right time or place for it, but then again, was there ever? It wasn’t as if he’d walk up to whoever gathered by the coffee machine at the precinct and say, “Pass the creamer, and oh, hey, by the way, I’m gay.”
Yeah. Not so much.
“See that you are.” Without anything further, Kraft disconnected the call, leaving Paul staring at the phone.
“Trouble?” Cliff stood by his side, eyes wide and searching, but he already knew. They’d been together enough times when Paul received those calls.
“Yeah, and it’s going to fuck up all my plans for the day.” With regret, he touched Cliff’s face briefly. “And I had plans.” He huffed out a sigh. “They found a body in the park over by Park Circle and Ash.”
“The Field of Flowers?”
The northwest corner of Thornwood Fields had been beautified by a group of volunteers. They worked with a horticulturist and a botanist to design and plant a sprawling botanical garden, drawing in schoolchildren on class trips, nature lovers, and a variety of birds and wildlife.
“I guess so. I haven’t been there in years. Anyway. I have to go upstairs, change, and get over there ASAP. I’m afraid I won’t be able to have lunch. I’m hopeful about dinner, though?” He left it on a question as they walked back to his apartment. This was his first relationship, and he had no idea about protocol. He might be in control at the precinct and in the field, but in his personal life he looked to Cliff for cues. He didn’t want to fuck things up.
“I’ll be all right. Such is the life of a detective’s boyfriend.” Cliff winked, letting him know he was okay with it. “Come by my place whenever you finish.”
“It might be late,” Paul warned as he pushed the elevator button to take them up to his apartment. The doors slid open, and after several people exited the cab, they walked inside.
As the doors closed, Cliff leaned in and kissed him. “I’ll wait up.”
* * *
Less than twenty minutes later, Paul was racing up to the scene. He spied the legs of a Caucasian male sticking out from behind the gnarled trunk of a massive oak tree. The deceased wore shorts and expensive running shoes. His legs were twisted at an awkward angle, and Paul’s first thought was that perhaps the man had tripped and fallen, and no foul play was involved at all.
The perimeter was cordoned off, and several police officers were taking statements from excited witness
es. A small crowd had gathered, the more adventurous craning their necks to see.
It’s not a pretty scene, folks. Death never is.
He strode over to one of the paramedics standing at the rear of the emergency vehicle, putting away his equipment. “Hey, Bruce. What can you tell me?”
“Nothing much for us to do, Paul. By the time we got here, the vic was dead.”
“What do we have?”
“Male, white, in his fifties, in good shape. No wallet or ID on him. He took blows to the front and back of his head. Of course the ME will make the determination, but I don’t think he died from the injury to the rear of the skull, but from when he fell. Looks more like he cracked his forehead on the tree root sticking up.”
Wincing, Paul rubbed his own forehead in sympathy with the victim. “Damn. Okay, thanks.”
“No problem.” Bruce’s walkie-talkie went off, and his partner, a big, burly black man, stuck his head out of the driver’s-side window of the ambulance.
“Let’s move it, Brucie. We got a call. Hey, Paul, how’s it going?”
“Good to see you, Wayne. Not too bad except for this. How’re the wife and kids?”
“Doing well, thanks. See ya.”
Bruce jumped into the passenger seat, Wayne flipped on the siren, and they took off, spitting up gravel as they left the parking lot.
With a sigh, Paul trudged over to the body. As Bruce had described, the victim lay facedown, sprawled between the exposed roots of the tree. To anyone else, it might look like he’d simply tripped over the encroaching roots of the massive tree, but upon closer inspection, it was evident that the back of his skull had sustained a wide gash halfway across the width of his head, and his wavy silver hair lay matted with congealed blood.
Lanie Howard, the coroner, snapped on a fresh pair of gloves as she approached him. “Someone conked him over the head, possibly with a rock or a bottle.” She pursed her lips. “He struck the tree and fell face forward. One of the root outcroppings appears to have smashed through the cranial ridge and buried itself in the brain tissue. Not pretty. We’ll have to wait for the autopsy, but most likely he died from the trauma to the brain and loss of blood from the wound.”
“Damn, that’s ugly.”
“Yes. Very.” She nodded in agreement. “Ugly and most likely a horribly painful death for him. We’re getting ready to turn him over and take him in for the autopsy.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Forensics was already about, nosing around the dirt and leaves. Paul took note of the victim’s personal effects. Aside from the expensive running sneakers, Paul observed a heavy gold link bracelet on the man’s outflung wrist and a thick gold wedding band. He’d most likely tried to break his fall with his hands, but from the crooked angle of his body and the way one of his feet was twisted up, caught on the tree root, he hadn’t had a chance. In the distance, Paul saw Rob’s car pull up. His partner got out and sprinted toward the scene, his unbuttoned sport jacket flapping as he ran.
“Hey, guys.” He greeted the chief of forensics, Manny Rodriguez, who nodded, acknowledging Rob’s presence, but continued taking notes. The other members of Manny’s team had spread out, their sharp gazes trained on the ground. They’d proved invaluable in helping him and Rob solve the murder at the Starrywood hotel a few months previously. After waving to Lanie, Rob joined him.
“Well, this looks ugly.”
“Yeah. The EMT and Lanie suspect the head wound from the tree root is what did him in, but that was helped along by the crack on the base of the skull, which was likely the reason for his fall.”
“Ouch. You have to be pretty fucking cold to leave someone to die like that. Someone must’ve hated this guy, whoever he is.”
“Yeah,” Paul said. He scanned the scene, as if hoping to see someone hiding behind the leafy trees.
Manny finished logging in his report and joined them.
“Your guys find anything?” Paul asked him.
“We’ll know more once we get to the lab. We did the usual—samples from under the fingernails, scraped the bottom of his sneakers. The wound at the back of his head is clean, no glass fragments or bits of dirt embedded in it, so I’m ruling out a branch or rock, for now. Definitely something heavy enough to crack the skull. No sign of the weapon, at least not around the body. It’s pretty dry and leafy here, so no footprints. The bicycle path is nearby, and we can see about taking tread marks if we find any, but given the number of cyclists I’ve seen pass by since I got here, that’s a long shot.”
“Yeah, well…we’ll nose around on our own and see what we come up with.”
He and Rob left the team and began meandering, searching for clues in the grass and along the path.
“Not the way I like spending my Saturday morning,” Rob grumbled, kneeling down to examine something. He grunted and stood.
“Me neither. Cliff and I were running when I got the call.”
“I was about to take a shower with my wife.” Rob winked. “Instead of a nice, long soak, I hopped in and out. I may be clean, but I’m damn frustrated right now.”
Thinking of Rob’s thwarted plans and what he might’ve been doing at this moment instead of wandering around in the foliage, Paul sympathized. “Yeah…trust me. I get it.”
“I’ll bet you do.” Rob chuckled and nudged his shoulder. “How’s Cliff?”
Rob and his wife, Annabel, knew he was gay, and they’d all had dinner together a number of times, but Paul still wasn’t accustomed to discussing his personal life. Heat rose in his face, and he kept his answer short. “He’s fine. Let’s look over there. I see a garbage can. We’ll start with the ones closest to the scene and leave the rest in the park for the others to go through.”
“My favorite thing to do.”
“You could be home, changing your daughter’s diaper,” Paul deadpanned as he pulled out a pair of gloves and approached the closest pail, which, lucky for them, wasn’t full.
“Point taken.” Rob fit his hands into his gloves, and the two of them began to pick apart the garbage. Flies and bees buzzed around them as they dug their way through the detritus left by park patrons.
An hour later, they had accomplished nothing but the imprinting of garbage smell in their nasal passages and on their clothes. They’d sifted through plastic bags filled with dog crap, leftover food containers, bottles that people carelessly tossed in with the rest of the trash without recycling. Lanie had finished her paperwork and was getting ready to take the victim to the morgue for an autopsy. Two beefy-looking men stood at the ready, waiting for her instructions.
“Guys, let’s slowly roll him over and put him on the stretcher.”
The men gently picked up the body and followed Lanie’s direction.
A huge hole caved in his forehead from the trauma of falling on the rough knob of the tree root. As Lanie stated, it was a grievous, gruesome wound, the blood still glistening, wet. The vic’s sightless eyes stared up into the bright-blue sky. Paul heard the sudden, sharp intake of Rob’s breath.
“Jesus, that’s ugly.”
“Yeah.” Paul had to agree. He suppressed his instinct to recoil, moving closer to examine the victim’s face. “Holy shit, Rob, look.”
A moment later, Rob said, “Oh, damn.”
“It’s him, right?” Paul ran a hand through his hair.
“Yeah. It sure as hell is.”
“Who?” Lanie fixed him and Rob with a sharp gaze. “You know the deceased?”
“Yes. Dr. Dean Ulrich. He was one of our witnesses in the Gregoria murder case. Lives out in the Manors.”
Her brows rose. “Ahh, gotcha.” She made a few notes on her iPad. The Thornwood Park Police Department had upgraded and digitized their systems, putting all forms online. Paul still much preferred the old method of pad and paper. “Is he married?” Lanie asked.
Recalling the elegant Mrs. Catherine Ulrich, Paul exchanged glances with Rob and shrugged. “Yeah. We’ll take a ride out to their house and give his wif
e the news. Talk to you later, Lanie.”
“I know you will.”
He and Rob made their way to Rob’s car. “What do you think?” Rob asked. “Mugging? His wallet and ID are gone.”
“But not his gold bracelet or wedding band.”
“Yeah. Bizarre.”
“Not really. Many runners don’t bother to bring a wallet when they run.”
Instead of getting into the car, Rob leaned against the driver’s-side door and crossed his arms. “Okay. But ID? How’d he get here? He must’ve driven. Dr. Dean Ulrich wasn’t the type to take a bus.”
Rubbing his chin, Paul nodded. “Point made. We need to find his car. Let’s call it in and find out what he drove.”
“Ten to one it’s either a Benz or a Beamer.” Rob glanced at his ten-year-old Impala, his brows raised in amusement. “He wouldn’t be caught dead in a heap like mine.”
Giving Rob a glimmer of a smile, Paul pulled out his phone and called the precinct. “Hey, Chuck. It’s Monroe. We need the make of a car owned by a Dr. Dean Ulrich. We have his address on file.”
“Okay, give me a few and I’ll call you back.”
“Sounds good.” He disconnected. “He’ll call when he has info.”
Their gazes swept over the parking lot. It might’ve only been eight in the morning, but the lot was half-full, and with the sun already warm on his shoulders, Paul didn’t relish hunting through a parking lot in search of a car.
“So if it wasn’t a robbery, what was it?” Rob squinted off into the distance. “Was he on the usual jogging path? I’m not a runner.”
“Yeah, I remember that all too well.”
An amused light danced in Rob’s eyes. “Well, I thought it would be a nice way to bond with my new partner. Little did I know you’d try to kill me.”
Their first month after they’d been assigned to work together, Paul had invited Rob to go for a run in the park. Not that he’d thought they’d have much in common, since Rob was gregarious and married with a child and Paul was the antithesis of that, having little life outside of work. But he’d made the effort. Unfortunately, even though Rob was a former college football player, he was more into weight training than cardio and wasn’t prepared for the pace. He quit after a mile, clutching his hamstring in agony from a huge cramp in his leg.
