by Liliana Hart
Joe cleared his throat and was starting to look a little overheated, so I thought it might be a good time to remind them they had an audience and a dead body, neither of which was conducive to successful seduction.
“Did your grandmother get a good look at Leon in the courtyard?”
Camille smirked and dropped her hand to her side, and then she went back to the desk and opened the laptop, making sure everything was up and running.
“Oh, she saw him all right.” She gave the sign of the cross again. “She said he was dead as a doornail and God probably delivered the final blow himself. And that it was no less than he deserved.”
Joe winced. “Don’t speak ill of the dead, Camille.”
“I didn’t say it,” she said. “You know how grandmother is. She speaks her mind. I’m all finished up here.” She turned to Jack and me. “The internet connection isn’t great, but it’s as good as you’re going to get. Unless a storm rolls in. Then you’re shit out of luck, as my grandmother likes to say. Now if you all will excuse me, it’s long past the end of the work day and I can catch a couple of hours of beach time if I’m lucky.”
“Thanks for getting us set up,” Jack said. “You’ve saved us a lot of time and hassle.”
“Tell me that when you’re waiting for dial up. I went to college in the states and got my degree in computer science. I was used to the best of the best when it came to technology. Then I moved back here when my mama got sick, and it was like being thrown into the stone ages. I thought I’d die from the boredom of how long it took to get connected to the outside world. Fortunately, I’ve found other things to keep my interest. At least until I can get back to the states.”
I felt a little sorry for Joe. His expression turned to one of disappointment as she mentioned leaving, but he perked up again when she brushed her breast against his arm and batted long eyelashes at him.
“Why don’t you come buy me a hamburger before you get bogged down in all your police work. I watch TV. It could be days before you get to see me again. All this talk of memory lane has made me…curious.” She pouted prettily, and I knew we wouldn’t be seeing any of Joe for the rest of the night.
Joe cleared his throat again and put on his straw hat. “Sure, I guess I could buy you a burger. It’s been a long day. Unless you need me for something?” he asked, remembering we were there and doing his job for him.
“No, we’re going to be here a while,” Jack said. “Though if you’ve got copies of all the statements you took this afternoon that would be helpful. I can start going through them with fresh eyes. We can follow up with whomever we need to tomorrow.”
“Sure,” Joe said, nodding. “Though you’d best make it an early day tomorrow. Rain will be coming in by mid-afternoon. You’re going to want to be holed up in your cabana by then.”
Joe gave one more look at Leon laid out on the table, shrugged his shoulders at us with a sheepish smile, and then followed the sway of Camille’s hips right out the door.
“Twenty bucks says they do it in the car before they make it to memory lane,” Jack said.
“That’s a sucker’s bet. We could be doing that if we weren’t stuck here with this body.”
Jack sighed and looked down at Leon Stein. “Then lets get it done. My patience for being helpful is about at its end. We didn’t come here to do all their work for them. And they don’t seem too in a hurry to find out who did it.”
“Maybe no one liked Leon as much as Father Fernando said. Though it seems like someone would’ve killed him a long time ago instead of waiting until the week before he turned a hundred.”
“So we’ll keep looking for answers. At least for a little while. But twenty-four hours is probably going to be our limit on this. If we don’t find the killer by then we’re going to enjoy the rest of our honeymoon and say to hell with it. I want to visit memory lane too.”
Chapter Six
“Victim is identified as Leon Stein. Male. Age 99. Height is five feet, eleven inches. Weight is one hundred and sixty-two pounds. No birthmarks or tattoos. There’s a large incision scar down the sternum, indicative of open-heart surgery. And more incision marks near the pelvis, indicative of hip double hip replacement surgery.”
I turned off the recorder and looked at Jack. “See, that’s what sucks about getting old. You start to fall apart and end up like a patchwork quilt of other people’s organs and body parts.”
“Maybe by the time we’re that old everything will be robotic and we’ll be like the Bionic Man.”
“I’m telling you, the minute things start falling apart on me you should just put me down like a dog.”
“Technically I could do that now. You know how your knees creak every time you walk up the stairs.”
“It’s not nice to bring that up. I saw you squinting at your computer screen the other day. Don’t worry. I don’t mind putting you out of your misery too. I wouldn’t want you to be old and falling apart all by yourself.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“I’m a giver,” I agreed.
I took Leon’s fingerprints and transferred them to the cards so Jack could scan them into the computer to see if we could get a hit on prints. A man that had lived to be almost a hundred had to have an interesting past. I was curious to know where he’d come from and what had brought him here.
“I’m going to give Ben a call and see if he can run things on that end so we can get some answers before our flight leaves next week. Camille wasn’t kidding. This connection is slow.”
I’d already documented all the marks on the body and checked for head wounds or any other injuries that might have been related to time of death. But Leon was clean except for the stab wound to the heart and the scrapes he’d received when he’d fallen to the ground.
Though seeing the lateral incision on his chest made it clear as to why the dagger had entered through the breastplate so easily. Between the brittle bones of age and the fact that he’d already been opened up before, the killing blow wouldn’t have needed near as much strength behind it as we’d originally thought.
“You think the killer knew he’d had the surgery?” I asked.
“Probably. Joe said everyone knows everyone else’s business, though Leon would’ve had to go to the mainland for surgery. Someone who knew him killed him for a reason. And it was up close and personal. They were pissed. So digging into Leon Stein’s life is our best hope for finding out who did this to him.
Jack dialed Ben Carver and then put the phone on speaker. Ben was a good friend of Jack’s and had worked for the FBI for a number of years. No one was really sure what Ben did for the FBI, but we’d learned over the course of a few investigations that he had top level security clearance and pretty much had autonomy when it came to investigations. He was also a genius with computers and had an unnatural relationship with a laptop he’d named Miranda.
A couple of weeks back Carver had been in a car accident with Jack and I when a killer had tried to run us off the road. Carver had been knocked unconscious and Miranda hadn’t survived the crash. But the first thing Carver had done once he’d been released from the hospital was buy Miranda a new body and get her up and running again.
“Agent Carver,” Ben said when he answered the phone.
“That’s very formal of you, Agent Carver.”
“That’s because I’m still mad at you. You and Doctor Death are nothing but trouble. And I also think my wife might be pregnant again. I’m thirty-six years old. I don’t remember condoms being so difficult to use when I was younger.”
“TMI, Carver,” I called out. “You do know what causes pregnancy, don’t you?”
His sigh was audible and pitiful and I stifled a laugh. “I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure. All I know is that my wife is making me sleep on the couch until I figure it out. I’m cool with that though. We have a toddler and an infant. There’s no room for me in the bed anyway. See what you guys have to look forward too?”
�
��Yes. Except we know how babies are made. Jaye is a doctor after all.”
“I’m assuming there’s a reason why you’re calling me on your honeymoon instead of doing baby-making test runs?”
“We’ve got a crime scene we need your help with. We don’t have a useable lab down here and our connection to the outside world is precarious at best. We need somebody who can do things quickly and efficiently while we feed the information.”
There was a long moment of silence and I wondered if we’d lost the connection. “Do I want to know why you’re working a crime scene on your honeymoon?”
“Probably not. The details are boring. But we’re here and they wanted our help.”
“So of course you volunteered and then decided to drag me into another one of your ridiculous cases where I end up dodging bullets or getting a concussion like the last few times I’ve worked with you. You know you guys aren’t normal, right?”
“Normal is boring.”
“That’s very true. But I’d like you to know that my wife said I’m not allowed to play with you guys anymore. You’re too dangerous and you get me into trouble.”
“You’re wife is making you sleep on the couch,” Jack said. “She’s probably upped your life insurance without you knowing it.”
“Good point. I was wondering why she was trying to get a blood sample the other day. And lucky for you Miranda is back up to speed. She’s had a rough couple of weeks after the car wreck. Haven’t you, darling?”
“Talk about not normal,” I said.
“Fill me in on what you need from me,” Carver said.
“Our vic is a man a week shy of his hundredth birthday by the name of Leon Stein. Someone stabbed him in the heart with a very cool looking dagger. I’ve just loaded his prints into the database. I need everything you can dig up on this man.”
We could hear the clatter of keys over the line as Ben worked his magic. “Seems kind of a bummer to kill him before the big centennial like that. You’d think they could’ve waited a week.”
“I’ve also emailed you the photographs of the dagger. You know a couple of collectors in the DC area who might know where it came from or how old it is.”
“I’m assuming there’s a good reason why you and the Doc are on the case instead of the locals. What’s my time frame here? It’s getting late.”
“All you have is a lonely couch to go to. You might as well work.”
Carver sighed again. “Good point.”
“I need it as soon as you can get it to us. We don’t want to spend the rest of our honeymoon buried in chest cavities.”
“That’s a lovely image. Thank you for that.” There was another rapid-fire click of keys and Ben said, “Leon Stein. Married to Maria Sophia Castile, and they celebrated their seventieth wedding anniversary last December. Whew, she was fifteen and he was thirty when they married back in 1945. That’s a little icky. But I guess it’s worked out for them okay. They’ve got eight children. Thirty-two grandchildren. And I can’t even count all the great and great-great grandchildren. But I’ll send you a comprehensive list along with financials.”
“Great,” Jack said. “And do me another favor.”
“I’m going to hate this one. I can tell by the sound of your voice.”
“There’s a Father Fernando at the local Catholic church. He’s the one who discovered the body, and he didn’t particularly think it was necessary to find out who killed Stein. See what you can find on him as well.”
“Dude, you know it’s all kinds of wrong to be doing background searches on priests.”
“Yep, which is why you’re going to do it. You love the wrong stuff. Check Father’s DeCosta and Xavier while you’re at it.”
“Fine, but the least you can do is get me seats behind the dugout at a Nationals game.”
“You’re not a baseball fan,” Jack said.
“No, but I can sell them to Special Agent Drummond for an exorbitant amount of money. He’s a dumbass like that.”
“Fine, but I need answers as soon as you get them.”
“When I get them you’ll have them. But it might be tomorrow on the knife. Not everyone dances to your tune like I do.”
“I appreciate it, Carver.”
“I know you do. And I’d also appreciate a long weekend away with my wife. To somewhere tropical. And a babysitter to keep the kids.”
“That could probably be arranged too. And just think, you’ll be sitting behind a desk the whole time for this case. You won’t get shot at or banged up in a car crash.”
“It’s the only reason I’m helping you out. I’m getting too old for this shit. There’s a reason I never worked in the field.”
“Because you could never pass the shooting requirements?”
“That too. Catch you later.”
Carver hung up and I knew we were in good hands. If there were secrets to find out Carver would have them before too long. No one could keep a secret from him.
Chapter Seven
“He wouldn’t have lived more than a few months past his birthday,” I said once I’d completed the autopsy. Or at least the parts that I could.
My supplies were limited and I didn’t have on site testing capabilities, so the samples I’d taken would go to the mainland. What they did with them was up to them. But it didn’t take sophisticated equipment to see that Leon Stein’s body was riddled with cancer.
“He had a few blockages in his heart, but not at the critical stage yet. But the cancer in his lungs would’ve shut him down before too long. We should probably check with Doctor Hizumi to see if he was being treated. But official cause of death was caused by the dagger to the heart. It pierced the anterior wall of the left ventricle. There were no other signs of struggle.”
Jack had rigged up a white board next to Joe’s desk. While I’d been looking at Leon’s internal organs, he’d been making a timeline of events and running background checks and financials on Leon’s family.
“So time of death is narrowed down to somewhere between four and four-thirty. That’s not a lot of time to make the kill and pose the body. According to Joe’s notes, they keep the doors to the courtyard blocked after Mass so the priests can go back to the clergy house and pray and rest between services. So no parishioners followed the priests in that direction. And all three priests said the same thing. They walked back to the clergy house together and no one was in the courtyard when they passed through.”
“That’s all fine and good about parishioners not be allowed to go through to the courtyard after Mass, but Leon Stein was in that service and you’re telling me no one noticed that he walked back there?”
“Sister Teresa and Sister Magdalena both say they saw him leave the front of the church. They noticed Leon specifically because one of the parishioners had to steady him on the way out. They said he was moving slow and wasn’t looking well.”
“Certainly not well enough to fight back against whoever had the dagger.” I sewed Leon back up and pulled the sheet up over him. “So no one saw him outside the church or slip around the side of the building to get to it that way?”
“No, in fact, a couple of different people mentioned that they saw him get on his bike and head toward his house.”
“What the hell?” I said. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“Tell me about it. There were more than a hundred people in that church on a Saturday afternoon. Everyone saw Leon inside the church and dozens of people saw him leaving. No one puts him in the vicinity of the courtyard.”
“Where’s Leon’s bicycle?” I asked.
“Good question. It wasn’t at the crime scene.”
“So maybe Leon circled back around to the side of the church for a meeting he didn’t want anyone to know about, his killer stabs him in the chest, and then escapes by stealing Leon’s bicycle and making a clean getaway.” It sounded ridiculous the moment the words started coming out of my mouth. But it was all I had at the moment.
“Yeah, pretty much. So
mething isn’t adding up. Someone is lying.”
“That’s a huge surprise,” I said, batting my eyelashes. “Everyone is always so good at telling the truth. You think it’s the priests?”
“That’s the most logical explanation if you’re just looking at time of death and location. But it’s the explanation that doesn’t sit well with my gut.”
“What about motive? Anything popping that will tell us why Leon was killed?”
“Not a thing. I’ve checked financials. This island isn’t exactly an economic hotspot. And by island estimations, the Steins were considered well off. They own some of the businesses in town. A gas station, a flower shop, the boat rental place, some of the cabanas along the water. They’ve got everything diversified in safe places and they don’t spend above their means.
“Three of Leon and Maria’s children are deceased. Their two sons are both retired—one was a doctor and the other an attorney—and they’ve both lived in the states with their families for more than forty years. The three remaining daughters all still live here on the island with their families. They manage some of Leon and Maria’s properties, collect rents, and stay on top of upkeep. One of them has some gambling debts, but Maria and Leon have always bailed her out of trouble. And I’m not seeing anything that pops from the younger generations either.
“Everything is in both their names, so if one passes the other inherits. I’ll need to see if Leon had a will. Maybe he made some recent changes to it that Maria didn’t agree with.”
“We need to talk to her too. But if her health is as bad as people are saying then she wouldn’t have the strength to kill her husband.”
“I know, but we always look at family first. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the spouse or family member is responsible. Especially when it’s up close and personal like that. That takes a lot of rage to look into the eyes of someone you know and plunge a knife in their chest.”
“That’s something else,” I said. “We know the killer was covered in blood. He got brushed up against the fence and left evidence. It would’ve been really hard to intermingle back with the crowd without being noticed.”
