by Liliana Hart
“You mean it’s a solid investigation?” Agatha asked.
“No, I mean they’ve restricted access to almost everyone except the prosecutor and fire chief. I tried to review the case several years back when people were still talking about it. All I have access to are the handwritten notes and a few pics that were buried on the old coroner’s desktop computer. He probably didn’t know they were there. He wasn’t the most technologically advanced.”
“It’s a start,” Hank said. “Let’s finish eating and take a look at what you’ve got.”
An hour later they were back at the walk-in freezer where Rusk worked. She said hello to Beth and then badged them through to the long hallway that led to her office.
“I’ve got everything right here,” Rusk said, digging in the bottom of her desk drawer for a file. She handed it to Agatha and then moved the computer mouse so the screensaver cleared. She clicked on a desktop folder and images appeared. “I’ll also save them onto a jump drive for you.”
“May I?” Agatha asked, pointing to the empty conference table.
“Be my guest. I’ll make copies for you to take back.”
Agatha thanked her as she cracked open the files at a conference table near the narrow window opening. She felt the twinge in her gut as she saw the first autopsy image. She loved the study, but hated what murder did to the person.
“Dr. Rusk, I see in the autopsy that a blood sample was taken and showed zero carboxyhemoglobin. I also see that there was no smoke inhalation present in her lungs, or inhalation damage, or laryngospasm. There were no thermal injuries in her airways, or soot in her esophagus or stomach.” Agatha asked
“That’s right.” Rusk agreed.
“There are notations of multiple ligature marks on her body. Was there more than the one handcuff, or were those ligatures created by the heat-splitting of the body against clothing or jewelry?” Agatha asked.
“You know your stuff,” Rusk said, brows raised. “You a cop?”
“A mystery writer,” Agatha said with a smile. “And it helps I almost had a forensic anthropology degree before I quit to write full time. I’m good at what I do. Just like you.”
Anna nodded, respect in her eyes. “There was only the one handcuff, but it wasn’t needed to keep her in place. There was no blood or bruising where the cuff had been snapped against her wrist.”
“It was for show,” Hank said. “Unnecessary.”
“Exactly,” Rusk said.
“Cause of death was a GSW at close range to the heart,” Agatha continued. “The bullet’s trajectory looks to have been a steep, up to down angled path.” She squenched her nose in confusion, trying to see it in her mind.
“Julie was shot while sitting on the bed, but whoever was standing over her was pretty tall to cause that angle of entry,” Hank said.
“Maybe even as tall as Tony,” Agatha added.
“Whoa!” Rusk said. “Y’all think Chief Fletcher killed this girl?”
“Just got to prove it,” Hank said. “That’s the fun part.”
“I really hope you’re as good at your job as you say you are because it’s going to take some creativity to clear the man whose been sitting in prison the last ten years.”
“The handcuffs,” Hank said.
“Handcuffs?” Rusk asked.
“Yeah, is there a picture of them from the crime scene?”
Agatha shifted through the pages in the file, but there was nothing there.
“Doc?” Hank asked. “What about you?”
Rusk was already at her desktop clicking through the images. Hank moved to stand behind her.
“Will this do?” Her glistened in the florescent lighting.
“Aggie,” Hank said. “Look here. What do you see?”
“A handcuff.” She said and she leaned closer. “A chained handcuff, single blade. Good catch.”
She patted Hank on the shoulder.
“Anna, where would this handcuff be stored?” Hank asked.
Rusk furrowed her brow in thought and pulled a large three-ring binder from a book shelf, dropping it on the conference table.
“As I feared,” she said. “The prosecutor probably has it.”
“Probably?” Hank challenged.
“Policy says all evidence upon conviction shall remain with the prosecution in the event of post-conviction relief, retrial or appeal,” Rusk said, reading the policy aloud.
“Is that bad?” Agatha asked.
“If he won’t allow me to peek at the fire investigator’s reports, you think he’s going to let you inspect evidence?”
Chapter Eleven
Wednesday
“Hey, Nick,” Hank said as he greeted the man at the Kettle Café. It was good to be back in Rusty Gun, which he thought he’d never say. But the place was starting to grow on him, and Rio Chino gave him the creeps.
Nick shook his hand and said, “I saw you called yesterday, but I had no cell service out at the 777.”
Hank had already gotten them a table since he’d arrived first.
“You didn’t have to chopper to meet me.”
Nick laughed as he peered through the Kettle café’s window. “Are you kidding me? I never miss an opportunity to ride in that thing. Heck of a lot faster than a car. Besides, I figured I owed you another apology for…”
“Stop,” Hank said. “No need to apologize. I know the truth. And I want to say again how sorry about this whole thing. Your family has suffered like no one should because of one man’s jealousy.” Hank saw the moisture in Nick’s eyes and the tear roll down his cheek. “Why didn’t you just level with me?”
“Habit, I guess. I’ve begged for over eight years for the truth. I got nowhere. No one, and I mean no one, was willing to lift a finger to help me. I know it’s petty, but I was sure it had something to do with my leaving Rio Chino and moving to Beacon City. Heck, it’s where I grew up. This stupid football rivalry has that town insane. Worst part about it, no one in Beacon City even cares, and everyone in Rio Chino is just trying to cover their own behinds.”
“Who have you asked for help?
“Hank, it’s no secret. I’m loaded rich. I went to everybody from the governor to the school crossing guard. That fire department is as crooked as an unpressurized hose.”
“You were never convinced Gage could have killed your daughter?” Hank asked.
“No way in the world that boy killed her. He loved her. Sure, he messed up, but so did she. I had a good talking to them, and they decided to stick it out and get some help.”
“Then what?”
“It was that jealous idiot fireman. Tony Fletcher. He’d been a loser to Gage all his life, and he couldn’t accept losing to him again.”
“Nick, can I tell you something? But I swear if you whisper a word to those rich cronies, this case ends.”
“Hank, this is my daughter we’re talking about. And most importantly, my grandson. The boy has lost his mother. His dad is not responsible.”
“I think I can prove Tony did it. Or at least that Gage didn’t do it.”
“How?” Nick asked, a spark of hope in his eyes.
“I can’t tell you, but I do need your help.”
“Anything,” Nick agreed. “I’ll give up everything I own.”
“I know you would. I need access to a piece of evidence, and the District Attorney has it in his possession. Is there any way possible to convince him to allow me access? All I need is a moment.”
“I don’t think so,” Nick said. “We’re not what you’d call on friendly terms.”
“How about the police chief? No one has even mentioned his name. Was he here at the time? Think he could help?”
“Doubt it. The police chief at the time tried to have the Texas Rangers come in and investigate. Can you guess what happened?”
“New chief?”
“Yep. The mayor fired him for insubordination the very next week. Had the prosecutor threaten to press charges unless he agreed to go back to San
Antonio. The next day, he and his family packed up and disappeared.”
“So what do we do? I’m an outsider here, so you’re going to have to take the lead on this one.”
“We’ve got a newly elected governor, and I contributed a heck of a lot of money to his campaign. I wouldn’t mind making another donation if he’ll put the pressure on.”
Hank nodded. “Let me know how it goes. Aggie and I will head back to Rio Chino this afternoon. Maybe a cold call will get us through.”
“I really appreciate you doing this, and I’m sorry I didn’t square with you from the start. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured because it was my daughter. And honestly, I had no clue who you were when we met.”
Hank shook his hand, and decided to put it behind them. He enjoyed Nick’s company.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Hank said. “No matter what it takes.”
Hank waited until Nick left and then got Agatha’s attention. She’d been sitting on the other side of the restaurant to see how things went.
“He’s going to see the governor,” Hank said.
“Think he’ll come through?” She asked.
“It’s a long shot.”
Sheriff Coil came through the door of the café and spotted them immediately.
“Sheriff,” Hank said, shaking the other man’s hand.
“How’s it going, Hank? Agatha?”
“You know, I keep my ear to the ground. I know what y’all are up to,” Coil said, sliding into the booth where Nick had just been.
“Meaning?” Agatha bit.
“I’ve been hearing y’all are stirring up trouble in Rio Chino,” Coil said. “If it’s what I suspect it to be, I’d say y’all were on the right track. I know this case well. I was sent into try and help since they didn’t have any experience dealing with these kinds of crimes. They didn’t let us stick around for long. The trick is going to be getting access to evidence.”
“Yes, so why haven’t you offered to help before now?” Agatha scolded him.
“You never asked. I mean, you are my special investigator, Hank. Least you could’ve done is let me know. And I guess you don’t mind flashing that badge around so much now, do you?”
Agatha snickered. “He’s got you there, Hank. I’ve seen more of that badge than I’ve seen my own home in the last few days.”
“I can’t get directly involved, but I can try getting you limited access to records.”
“How about evidence?” Hank asked.
“Like what?”
“Handcuffs. The ones found on Julie’s wrist after the fire.”
“It’s going to be tough. I’ll work on it.” Coil shook his head to move the hair out of his face.
A glimmer of an idea started to form in Hank’s mind, and he snapped his finders. “The pistol.”
“You need a pistol?” Coil reached for his backup weapon.
“No.” Hank waved his hands. “No.”
“What?” Agatha asked.
“Julie was shot with a .45 caliber pistol. Gage McCoy carried a 9mm. They confiscated it from him on scene,” Hank said.
“Drop gun used,” Agatha interrupted.
“Let the man process his thoughts, writer girl,” Coil said good-naturedly.
“Firemen don’t carry weapons, and Tony was never reported to carry or possess a firearm. If Tony did kill Julie, where did he get the .45, and what did he do with it after?” Hank continued.
“Good questions,” Agatha said.
“I just remembered that while reading the radio transmissions transcripts someone said something over an open mic about hand me my gun,” Hank said. “From the chronology of the radio traffic, my guess would be that was Kip ordering someone to get his pistol so he could stop Gage from interfering.”
“What type of weapon did Kip have?” Agatha asked.
“I’ll run a records check for licensed gun owners and pistol range memberships,” Coil said. “While you’re back in Rio Chino, stop by the county 911 commission. They hold onto those recordings for at least ten years. You might be lucky and they still have them. The DA has a copy for the case file, but you aren’t getting near them. I’m sure you can sweet talk a 911 operator into letting you listen to a recording.”
“Thanks, Coil,” Hank said. “We find that .45, and we can pin the killer.”
“You think Kip killed Julie?” Agatha asked. “I thought we were looking at Tony.”
“We need to look at whoever had access to the command post, and who had access to Kip’s weapon.”
“Chafee told us Tony was in the command post with Kip. Tony has to be the one who Kip was asking to hand him his pistol.”
“Y’all just gotta find that .45,” Coil said.
“Yeah, after eight years, it’ll be just that easy,” Hank said sarcastically.
“You know,” Coil said. “You stink at being retired, so I guess you might as well spend your time looking for a gun. It is the key.”
“Key to what?” Agatha asked.
“Another man’s freedom.”
Chapter Twelve
Wednesday
“I’m sure getting tired of this drive to Rio Chine,” Agatha said.
“At least the food has been good,” Hank said. “And some of the company.”
Agatha rolled her eyes again. She was sure he was talking about Dr. Rusk. But she couldn’t complain too much. Hank was a great character study for the hero of her next novel. Hank was anything but a typical cop, and she’d really enjoyed getting to see another side of him for this case. The tougher side of him. She had a feeling when Hank wasn’t acting “retired,” his middle name might be Trouble.
“What do you think of Dr. Rusk?” Hank asked.
“She’s pretty, and I think she likes you. You should probably ask her to the dance.”
“Aggie, this isn’t junior high school. I meant, do you think she’s legit about her suspicions or just do you think maybe she’s in on it with the others and trying to string us along?”
Agatha shrugged. “I didn’t get that vibe from her. She seemed like a straight shooter. But she could probably get in a lot of trouble for helping us as much as she did. Though it might not matter. I got the feeling she doesn’t plan on sticking around Rio Chino much longer. She seems like a city girl.”
“Probably so.” Hank agreed. “So, you think she likes me?” He looked at her with mischief in his eyes and she smacked him on the shoulder.
“Yeah, I don’t think you need any help feeding your ego. I’m staying silent on this one.”
“That would be a first,” he said. “I sure hope Nick or Coil come through. The gun totally slipped my mind. I got fixated on the handcuff angle and slipped on the obvious.”
“Hiding in plain sight,” Agatha said.
“Retirement is kicking my butt. Making me slow and lazy.”
“Look on the bright side, at least your retirement wardrobe has improved. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take with you wearing those black socks and Birkenstocks while you watered your roses.”
“That’s all your doing. With what you pay me as a consultant I can afford to hire a gardener.”
“You’re welcome. Are heading over to the 911 center?” she asked.
“Might as well. I think we should try getting Chafee to meet us out there to ask him about the .45. I just got a feeling that the closer we get to Friday night’s kickoff that the less help we’ll get from Chafee. Old loyalties, even if he despises Tony, run deep.”
“I’ll text him.” She whipped out her cell phone and began typing.
She watched as they avoided Kip Grogen Avenue and took a different way to the 911 center. “Where are we going?”
“If you haven’t noticed, there aren’t a whole lot of BMWs in this town. I thought it best we avoid driving by the fire station. It’d be like waving a red flag in front of Tony.”
It took them an extra fifteen minutes to get to the 911 center. The building was newly constructed and al
most as modern and shiny as the fire department.
“Crap,” she said.
“What?” Hank asked.
“This place remind you of anywhere? What do you want to bet everyone in here is loyal to Tony? He got them a new building they probably can’t afford.” She exclaimed.
“Let’s see how it goes.” He smirked, “Time to charm.”
Hank opened the door for her and she thanked him. She was an independent woman, but she appreciated good manners. The lobby was as advanced as the fire department’s entrance. There was a small bust of Kip Grogan in one corner, and a giant portrait painting of Tony on the opposite side. There was no equal portrait of the police chief.
“What is wrong with this town?” she asked.
“Too many things to ask.”
“Hank,” someone called out.
Agatha turned at the sound of the familiar voice. “What in the world?”
Deputy Karl Johnson waved at them from across the room and jogged toward them. He was about her height, but he’d bulked up with muscle over the past few years. His skin was the color of dark chocolate. She still saw him as the boy she once babysat. In her mind, he was still way too young to be driving, much less carrying a firearm.
“Whew, is it good to see a familiar face,” he said.
There were quite a few officers milling about in the lobby from different cities, but they all looked like cops in the tactical pants and polos that had their city’s name over the breast or on the sleeve.
“What’s going on?” Hank asked as they stepped away from a larger group of officers.
“Sheriff Coil sent me for NCIC certification. I have to have training before I can request information through the National Crime Information Center’s database.”
“Great training certification, Karl. I couldn’t have done anything without access to NCIC. How many days is the class?”
“Three days. This is the last day. They said it wouldn’t be safe around here on Friday for the big game. The instructor said Friday was for Rio Chino alumni only. She might’ve been joking or not, but I’m not taking any chances. This place is a little nutty.” He looked around the lobby, his eyes wide. “I’m just ready to get home.”
