Body of Evidence

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  “Will do.”

  The body had been taken away and most of the police officers had gone. The sun was up, weak and pale, not even warming the area enough to create fog. Maggie stood at a wall of windows in a gorgeous sitting room and looked out at an incredible view of Lake Michigan. Her own body ached; she hadn’t slept enough and she had a full day of work ahead of her.

  She was so tired she didn’t even hear Josh enter the room until he spoke.

  “How about a cup of coffee?” Josh asked, making Maggie jump because she hadn’t heard him behind her. “There’s a little place a few blocks from here that serves mighty fine coffee and a good breakfast, as well, if you’re hungry.”

  “I’m not a bit hungry, but I could definitely use some coffee. We’re not through here, though, are we? Shouldn’t one of us talk to the housekeeper?”

  “I’m not sure who’s going to handle interviews yet, but don’t worry, the housekeeper’s not going anywhere. Neither are the other residents of this building. We’ll get around to each and every one of them, but we still need to have that coffee. Let’s go.”

  “Let me get my things,” Maggie said.

  The Coffeehouse Café was small and trendy. Josh and Maggie found an empty table and sat down. Josh mentioned breakfast again, but Maggie told him she wasn’t ready to eat, which she wasn’t. When hot, delicious-smelling coffee was brought to their table, though, she reached for her cup immediately.

  “You’re right,” she said after a satisfying sip. “This is terrific coffee.”

  Josh had ordered some bacon and toast, and he ate as well as enjoyed his coffee. He sent Maggie a glance. “Spend enough time with me and you’ll find out that I’m right most of the time.”

  “Oh, really? When did that metamorphosis come about? I don’t recall your being Mr. Perfect when you and Tim hung together.” It was a lie. In those days she’d thought of him as nothing but perfect.

  “You didn’t? Hmm. That surprises me. How is ol’ Tim doing these days?”

  “Ol’ Tim is doing great. You do know he got married, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I knew that.”

  “Well, he also has two little boys. Did you know that?”

  “No. Two sons, huh? Got any pictures of them?”

  “Not with me.”

  “So, how’d you end up like me instead of like Tim? He’s still into computers, I suppose.”

  Maggie arched her eyebrows. “Yes, he is, and doing extremely well financially. But I don’t see any similarities between you and me, other than both of us being cops.”

  “I was a cop when you were still in kindergarten.”

  “Hardly. You’re only ten years older than I am. I’m twenty-six. And the two of us being cops doesn’t make us think and act alike.”

  “Do I detect disapproval in your voice?”

  “Well, you’re certainly not right all the damned time. No one is.”

  “Hey, I said most of the time, and I was only kidding anyway. Can’t you take a joke anymore? If I remember right, you used to laugh at jokes.”

  “The last time we talked I was sixteen and naive. I’m neither of those now.”

  Josh had finished eating. Holding his cup with both hands, his elbows on the table, he gave her a long look. “You’re all grown up, I can’t deny that.”

  Was that admiration and lechery in his stunning gray eyes? Maggie wondered. A shiver went up her spine. He was even more handsome now than he’d been when she’d suffered that torturous crush. And he’d treated her like a kid, never once suspecting that he was the star player in all of her teenage fantasies.

  Well, wouldn’t he have a laugh if she suddenly blurted that she was no more experienced with men now than she’d been ten years ago? She wasn’t overly proud of being a virgin at her age, but she had never met a guy who had affected her in a sexual way. Of course, she’d had her nose stuck in a book almost constantly in college, and since graduation she had worked darned hard to get where she was in the Chicago Police Department.

  But Josh affected her. He had when she was a teenager and he possessed the same powerful magnetism today. She felt all sorts of things just from looking at him, from having him look at her, and the last thing she wanted was a quickie affair with the only man she might have grown up to love, given half a chance.

  “Maybe we should talk about the case,” she said.

  Josh’s lips turned up in a knowing little half grin. She was pretty and she was also sharp enough to know how to keep a hot-blooded predator at arm’s length. Besides, she was Tim’s sister, and Maggie might not know it, but that meant something to Josh. He might kid around with Maggie Sutter, but that was as far as it would ever go for him.

  “There’s very little to talk about at this point,” he said. “You know the drill…the autopsy and medical examiner’s report on cause of death…the endless interviews…the lab reports…and on and on.”

  “Okay, fine. You’re giving the orders, so I’d like to hear mine.”

  “You’ve got bags of possible evidence to examine and test. Spend the day at the crime lab. As for me, I intend to talk to the M.E. The question hounding me is what came first, the stab wounds or the blow to his head. I think that’s going to be a key issue in this case.”

  Maggie was impressed with Josh’s logic, which sort of saddened her because he seemed to see things more clearly than she did. His years of experience undoubtedly accounted for such acuity, but she couldn’t help envying it.

  “All right,” she agreed. “Drop me off at the Gardner building so I can pick up my car. Would you like me to contact you any time today?”

  “If you find anything I should know about, yes.” Josh reached into his inside coat pocket and brought out a business card. “All my phone numbers are on that.”

  Maggie handed him her card. “In case you need to talk to me,” she said.

  “Good. We’re in sync.”

  Much more than you could ever imagine. Maggie hated thinking those words and surely her expression or voice gave no clues to her thoughts, but Josh’s good looks, his intelligence and macho maleness were again burrowing under her skin and setting up residence in the vicinity of her heart. She would have to be careful around him or he would catch on, and if he ever realized that he had the upper hand where her emotions were concerned, there was no predicting what might happen.

  Or maybe there was. Maggie’s stomach sank clear to her toes, but she rose and left the café with Josh as though he meant no more to her than any other cop she had worked with.

  It was scary that he did…already…after only one time together.

  Chapter 2

  One of the jobs of a criminalist was to reconstruct the crime under investigation. Sketches of the murder scene, photographs and physical evidence all came into play. Maggie thought about the process while analyzing and testing the samples of everything from carpet fibers to fingernail scrapings that she had taken from Franklin Gardner’s study. As always, she was careful to keep very close tabs on even the smallest item, as it just might prove invaluable in bringing a killer to justice.

  Around two that afternoon the growling of Maggie’s stomach was a strong reminder that she hadn’t eaten since last night. But because she wanted to finish her tests so she could log the evidence before leaving the premises, she settled for an energy bar from a vending machine. It helped, and by seven that evening she had completed everything that could be completed in one day, and then carried it all to the evidence room.

  “Each bag is tagged,” she told the person in charge, even though nothing that wasn’t tagged could be logged in. “I’ll be picking up several of the bags during the next few days for further testing.” Maggie was mostly referring to Franklin Gardner’s collection of ice picks. They were suspiciously lacking in fingerprints—possibly wiped clean by Franklin’s attacker—and two had trace amounts of blood. She needed more time on them.

  She was walking out to her car when it dawned on her that Josh Benton hadn’t cal
led. Feeling slighted personally was one thing, but professionally? No way, she thought. Her work today had accomplished a great deal, and she fully intended on staying right in the middle of this investigation. Instead of going home, she drove to the Detective Bureau, parked her car and walked in. Sometimes the place was pure bedlam. This evening, it was merely busy.

  Maggie collected her written messages on her way past the duty officer, gave them a quick look and saw nothing that couldn’t wait, then proceeded to the desk she had been assigned two months ago. It was in a room crammed with file cabinets and about twenty other desks. The only items on hers were a telephone and a silent, blank-faced computer.

  Passing up her desk, Maggie went in search of Detective Benton. His desk, she had discovered, was in a different room, one that was divided into tiny cubicles. It wasn’t the Ritz, by any stretch of the imagination, but it was something Maggie aspired to herself one day. It wouldn’t happen for years, she knew, but it gave her pleasure to think of that far-off event.

  The door of Josh’s private space was open. Maggie peered in and saw Josh talking on the phone. He saw her, as well, and waved her in. She chose a chair and waited for him to finish.

  He finally did, and while putting down the phone he asked her, “How’d it go at the lab?”

  “Routinely,” she replied. She laid some papers on his desk. “Reports of my preliminary exam of the victim in situ. I haven’t finished with the ice picks, but there are no prints on them, not even a smudge. Wiped clean would be my guess, but two of them show trace amounts of blood. Type O-positive on one, animal blood on the other. Another guess is that that one was used to pry frozen steaks apart, or some kind of meat. If it becomes important, I can, of course, run further tests and identify the specie of animal. As for the other, do we know Franklin Gardner’s blood type?”

  “O-positive,” Josh said calmly.

  Maggie’s gaze locked with Josh’s. “Then that ice pick could be the murder weapon.”

  “Could be,” Josh concurred. “On first look, the M.E. agreed that cause of death could be the head wound, the chest wounds or both, which we already surmised. But we won’t know anything for sure until we get his autopsy report, which he hasn’t yet faxed over. I asked for a rush job, but you know how that goes.”

  “Did you mention the media interest in the case?”

  “Pulled every string I could. But our most recent murder victim isn’t the only one in Chicago whose name makes the general population genuflect,” Josh said dryly. “Anyhow, the report could come in anytime.”

  “How about fingerprint analysis of the apartment? Those guys lifted dozens of specimens from doorways, tables, the bar and on and on. Do we have anything in writing from that direction yet?”

  “No. They said they would have some results by tomorrow. I was told that two captains drove out to the Gardner mansion to inform Franklin’s mother of his death.”

  Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Captains? I thought you would go, so you could see her reaction. Were you told how she took the news?”

  “Are you thinking that Franklin’s mother might have something to do with his premature demise?”

  “Don’t look so skeptical. Anything’s possible. Everyone Franklin knew is a suspect until we know otherwise. There was no sign of forced entry into either the building, the private elevator or the penthouse. Franklin admitted his killer himself, so it had to be someone he knew…or hoped to know. What about his love life? Did he have a girlfriend…or more than one? Maybe the reason he was killed twice, as you so delicately put it earlier today, was because it was a crime of passion. You know, where the killer is so emotionally wound up that he or she doesn’t know when to quit.”

  “You have a good imagination.”

  “Can’t be an investigative cop without one.”

  “It helps…but it can also hinder. We do our best work with provable facts.”

  “When they’re available, yes, but when they’re not we had better be able to connect the dots…or the circumstantial evidence…all on our own. How about the housekeeper? Did anyone interrogate her yet, and is she being permitted to stay at the apartment? Nothing should be disturbed…or cleaned…in that place.”

  “Really?” Josh drawled. “Gosh, I didn’t know that.”

  Maggie’s face reddened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to patronize. But what did you do with Miriam Hobart?”

  “Threw her into the deepest, darkest dungeon in Chicago. What else would I do with the housekeeper of a murder victim?”

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  “You’re way too serious, Maggie. Lighten up.”

  Maggie got to her feet. “I don’t think it’s possible to be ‘too serious’ about a homicide. I’m going home.”

  Josh rose. “How about us eating dinner together first?”

  Maggie’s pulse quickened, although the way she looked couldn’t possibly be sparking any foolish ideas in Josh Benton’s head. She’d gotten up in the middle of last night and come to work without a speck of makeup on her face and barely a hairdo. Even so, she looked worse now than she had then, because the wear and tear of the day had to show on her face.

  “Sorry, but if you’re through with me, I’d like to go home.”

  “I’m not through with you, Maggie,” Josh said quietly. “Don’t even think it.”

  His tone of voice threw Maggie much more than the words he’d said. Odder still was the strange look on his face, as though he hadn’t meant to sound like the big bad hunter after the little red fox. But surprised or not, they both knew exactly how he had sounded, and Maggie narrowed her eyes at him while he proceeded to put on a tough, almost belligerent expression. It was, Maggie decided, an I-dare-you-to-make-something-out-of-it expression. A cop’s expression, distant and challenging.

  She was too tired to take on another challenge today, not even a personal one that she would have loved to pursue at various times during the past ten years.

  Deciding to ignore the sexual innuendo she’d just heard in his voice—for the time being, at least—she spoke rather coolly. “If there’s anything else we should discuss this evening, I will, of course, sit down again. If not…?”

  Josh wondered what in hell had come over him. This was Maggie, Tim’s kid sister.

  “Yeah, go on home. There’s nothing more we have to do tonight. Unless you’re handling other cases that need attention.”

  “I have several in process, but I’m up to speed on them. They’re not nearly as urgent as the Gardner homicide, anyway. Well, if that’s it for the day, I’ll say good-night.”

  “Oh, there is one thing. Have you worked with Colin Waters?”

  Maggie had started to leave, but she turned at the door, wearily leaned her shoulder against the frame and shook her head. “No, but I know who he is. Why?”

  “I’ve brought him in on the case. Orders from the powers-that-be are to get this one done fast. Colin is one of the best investigators we have. I talked to him earlier today, and he and his partner, Darien Wilson, are already working on it. Just thought you should know the latest. I’m sure they’ll be glad to read your prelim report.”

  “Fine. Do you want me to check in here in the morning, or should I go directly to the lab?”

  “Check in here first. Whether I’m here or not, take a look at the Gardner file, just in case some new report has come in.”

  “I should be adding several more reports to the file tomorrow. Okay, is that it?”

  “That’s it. See you tomorrow.”

  “If you’re here,” Maggie reminded him.

  Without another word, Maggie left Josh’s office.

  With Maggie gone, Josh let himself dwell on her. Something about her had gotten under his skin. True, he’d been without female companionship for a while, a good six months, actually, since he and Tasha, a model he had dated for over a year, had called it quits. But he hadn’t noticed any unusual suffering because of a lack of regular sex. In fact, he realized with a frown that h
e really hadn’t been thinking of sex at all since Tasha. And it wasn’t because attractive women were scarce. He simply hadn’t wanted any sort of relationship with a woman. With a wry twist of his lips, Josh wondered if he was getting old.

  But he was thinking of relationships now, wasn’t he? All because of seeing Maggie Sutter again, who should represent nothing beyond some fine old memories. Ten years ago he and Tim Sutter had been good friends, and often when Josh had dropped in on Tim, there would be Maggie, cute as any teenage girl could ever be, sassy, giggly and looking at him with her gorgeous violet-blue eyes.

  She didn’t look at him in the same way now, Josh thought with a bit of a wince. In fact, if there was any expression at all in her eyes when she looked at him, it was cool disdain. Was that because he hadn’t shown recognition during the accidental meeting that she claimed had occurred between them? He’d been startled as hell to see her as a cop and on duty smack-dab in the middle of his arena, to be exact, and he still wasn’t sure he liked it, particularly since she was making him think some pretty off-the-wall thoughts. And her being Tim’s sister somehow made her seem to be off-limits.

  Josh had lost track of Tim, but Tim had done the same with him. They lived different lives, Tim in California with his computers, his wife and kids, and he, Josh, sticking close to home, never even considering marriage or leaving Chicago, working hard and advancing in the police department. In truth, he and Tim couldn’t be more different from each other, they always had been, but still, during their twenties, they had hit it off.

  Josh sighed quietly. If Tim had stayed in the Chicago area, they’d probably still be friends. In the next heartbeat another thought, a question, gave Josh a start. What about Tim and Maggie’s mother? Josh remembered Lottie Sutter almost as well as he did her kids. Was Lottie alive and thriving? He hoped she was. They used to have some really good discussions.

  He sat there for another ten minutes thinking about the Sutter family, then, rather abruptly, the long day got the better of him and he realized that he was almost too tired to get out of his chair and go home. But if he didn’t do it soon he would probably fall asleep right where he sat.