The Night Killer

by Beverly Connor

  Hector and Scott were interested in taphonomy. Their particular interest at the moment was the postmortem interval—the length of time between death and whenever the body was discovered. Knowing when a murder victim died was one of the main pieces of information authorities needed in order to help find and convict the perpetrator.

  Taphonomy for forensic scientists was the study of what happened to a body from the time of death to discovery. Mike, Diane’s geology curator, also used the word in his discipline. For him it meant the study of the movement of an organism from the biosphere to the lithosphere—from organism to fossil. Forensic scientists didn’t have that long to wait.

  When a person died—unless normal decomposition was prevented by embalming, freezing, dehydration, or a few other rare circumstances—bacteria began to liquefy the organs, muscles, and skin. Chemicals found in the various organs and soft tissue during this process showed predictable changes over time. If you knew the temperature surrounding the body during the decomposition process, you could determine postmortem interval to within hours—certainly days. David called it an elegant use of data and mathematical formulas.

  Hector and Scott wanted to wind the clock a little tighter. They proposed that Lynn Webber and other area medical examiners allow them to collect tissue samples from cadavers that came to the MEs for autopsy, and compare data from the samples to known times of death—or nearly known.

  Their research would not help Diane determine precisely when the Barres were killed, but she hoped it would help in future cases. The current standard procedure of sampling the potassium concentration in the vitreous humor of the eye might help in the Barre case, but Diane feared that too much time had passed since their deaths. Moreover, the standard error of two hours for that indicator still wasn’t what she needed. She needed a tighter time line.

  Diane wanted to know what the time interval was between Ozella Barre’s death and the death of her husband, Roy. She was equally anxious to know whether there was a similar time difference between the deaths of Joe and Ella Watson.

  That was one of the things that bothered her, the time difference between the two Barres. Why? What was the killer doing after he killed Ozella Barre? Did he get interrupted by someone or something after Ozella’s death? Was the killer trying to get information, and thought Roy would be more forthcoming if he knew up close and personal what the stakes were? Did he think Roy would tell him anything after seeing the woman he had devoted his life to killed in such a terrible way?

  “Hector and Scott share Jin’s and David’s love of research,” said Diane. “We’ve converted one of the museum basement rooms to house their project.”

  “Well, I’m going to study their proposal. I’m very interested in their ideas,” said Lynn. “Now, about the autopsies. I know you were interested in the time intervals for the Barres, but I’m not going to be able to help you much.”

  “I was afraid too much time had passed for a close estimate,” said Diane.

  “They didn’t do a liver temp at the scene for them,” said Lynn. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to go with your photographs of the crime scene. You know, I’ve never worked with Rendell County. Which is just as well; I don’t think I would get along with them.”

  “I’ve been barred from entering the county,” said Diane.

  “What? Why?” asked Lynn.

  “I offended Sheriff Conrad,” said Diane. “He thinks I’m stepping on his authority, and in a way, I am. But the Barre children want me to investigate. And besides, I found the Barres and I feel like I owe them.”

  “I understand,” said Lynn. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t let it go either.”

  “What can you tell me about the Watsons?” asked Diane.

  “Well, at least a liver temp was done at the scene. It indicates both died within minutes of each other,” said Lynn.

  “That’s interesting,” said Diane. “A departure from the Barres.”

  “It looks that way,” said Lynn.

  Diane was waiting for Lynn to drop the other shoe. So far she hadn’t added anything that Dr. Linden didn’t notice, and she knew that wouldn’t do for Lynn. Diane also heard something in Lynn’s voice. She had a surprise. Diane didn’t spoil it by asking, but let Lynn draw it out.

  “There is one thing I found,” Lynn said.

  “Oh?” said Diane.

  “They were all killed by the same person.”

  Diane was speechless for a moment. Not because of the revelation that they were killed by the same person; she suspected it. She didn’t think the Watsons were killed by a copycat. What surprised her was that Lynn had evidence of it.

  “Are you still there?” asked Lynn.

  Diane could hear in her voice that she was pleased. Lynn loved to show off.

  “Yes, I’m here. I’m just speechless,” said Diane. “Tell me about it.”

  “I spent a great deal of time examining the neck wounds. Same angle, same depth. All four of their throats were cut down to the vertebra with one slice of the knife,” said Lynn. She paused.

  Diane knew what it meant. A strong arm with a long and very sharp knife—as sharp as a scalpel. An expensive knife. Only the highest-quality blades could be as sharp as needed for what Lynn described. Diane had learned all about blade quality when she herself was stabbed. But Diane didn’t offer that conclusion. She knew from experience that Lynn hated to be upstaged in the middle of a story. Diane catered to Lynn’s personality because she used her expertise a lot. Lynn, however high-maintenance a friend she was, was very good at her job.

  “It would take a very expensive sharp knife,” she began, and told Diane all the things she already knew about what kind of knife it had to be and the kind of strength it took to cut through muscle and tendons in one slice.

  “I made molds of the cuts in the vertebrae,” she said. “Same cut on all of them.”

  “Excellent,” said Diane. “Excellent. This is the first real clue I can use.”

  “I thought you would like that,” said Lynn. “I sent the report to your e-mail.”

  “I can always depend on you to do good work,” said Diane, wondering if she was laying it on a little thick. If she was, Lynn didn’t seem to notice. She took the praise with delight and hung up after they agreed to meet for lunch sometime in the near future.

  Diane left her office about the same time Andie was closing up her office. Andie had chosen a vase of roses to take home with her.

  “You know, you may get home and discover roses, violets, and daisies all over your front porch,” said Diane.

  Andie grinned. “That would be fun.”

  “I’ll see you on Monday,” said Diane.

  “Nope,” said Andie. “I’ll see you at church on Sunday. Liam asked me to go with him and I agreed.”

  Diane raised her eyebrows. That made Frank, Izzy and his wife, and now Andie and Liam. Well, at least she would be surrounded by people she knew. All this was probably arranged by David. She was also sure he would be up to something himself. She thought David was perhaps being a bit too paranoid in this instance. Sheriff Conrad wouldn’t arrest her at church, even a rival church.

  Chapter 40

  Sunday morning Diane took more time selecting her clothes than she did if she were going to the opening party of a new exhibit. She wanted to set just the right tone with the people she hoped to get information from. She finally settled on a blue-gray tweed pencil skirt with matching fitted jacket and black heels.

  “You look fine,” said Frank, coming up behind her as she examined herself in the mirror.

  He wore a charcoal gray suit that he often wore to church. He put his arms around her waist and she put her hands on his.

  “We look pretty good together. You could marry me,” he said.

  Diane felt herself involuntarily stiffen and hated it. He had asked before, always casually, as if he could tell himself he wasn’t serious when she said no. But she knew he was serious. He deserved a better reaction.

&
nbsp; “I understand what you’re afraid of,” he said. “That if you commit, I will be taken away somehow.”

  “I know it must seem very unreasonable to you.” She acknowledged the fear, though she usually denied it. She hated being superstitious, but every time he asked her to marry him, she remembered how happy she was with Ariel and how her world just about ended when Ariel was killed. How could she endure that again?

  “Just think about it,” he said. “Not everything has to end in tragedy.” He kissed the back of her neck.

  She turned so that she faced him with his arms still circling her waist.

  “I know,” she said. She kissed him, then wiped her lipstick off his lips with her thumb.

  “So,” she said. “Do you think I’ll be acceptable to the people of Rendell County?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, giving her a hug before they left for church services at the First Baptist Church of Rendell County.

  Diane and Frank sat toward the back of the church on a pew with Izzy and his wife, Evie, on one side and Andie and Liam on the other. Judging from their body language, Andie and Liam hadn’t patched things up completely, but they were friends enough to come here together to support Diane.

  In the pew in front of them sat Christine, her husband, and her brother Spence Barre. Christine had nodded toward the front of the church and whispered that the Watsons’ two daughters were sitting with their families.

  The minister introduced the guests before he began his sermon. The members of the congregation all turned, smiled, and nodded at Diane and her party.

  The service went by quickly. The sermon was surprisingly short. Diane stood and sang with Frank and the others whenever the music director led them in a hymn. Frank had a good voice and it attracted attention. Diane gave generously to the collection plate when it came around.

  At the altar call at the end of the service they sang “Just As I Am,” a hymn that never failed to make Diane feel guilty. She sighed. Some things from childhood could never be shed.

  Diane expected that Christine and her brother had found a few people who would speak with her after the service. She hoped perhaps they could use one of the Sunday-school rooms, or possibly they would speak to her out in the parking lot. But that wasn’t exactly how it played out. After the altar call, the minister invited everyone to the fellowship hall for a covered-dish lunch. Apparently, Christine and her brother had arranged it so Diane would have access to all the members who stayed for lunch.

  Everyone had gotten to church before Diane and her party arrived. Probably came for Sunday school, she thought. And most everyone had brought a covered dish containing what looked like some pretty spectacular food.

  Standing in the serving line, Diane smiled at the woman next to her and commented on how wonderful the food looked. The woman turned away and began filling her plate. So, not everyone was happy she was here, mused Diane. She watched the woman for a moment. The man just ahead of her was probably her husband. Both looked to be in their sixties and well dressed. She was in a royal blue microfiber front-buttoned dress, with a short string of pearls. Her husband wore a silvery gray suit. Diane thought she remembered him holding one of the collection plates.

  Diane and Frank sat at one of the long tables. She noted that Izzy and his wife sat at one table, and Andie and Liam sat at another. Definitely organized by David so they could all speak with different people. Made sense, of course. Diane hadn’t thought to come up with a coordinated plan. She was just going to wing it.

  The minister said grace. He mentioned the Barres and the Watsons and especially Roy Jr., who was still in critical condition in the hospital. A lot of tragedy for one church, thought Diane.

  Christine and Brian McEarnest and Spence Barre sat down opposite Diane and Frank. Two women came over with their plates of food, and the Barres scooted aside to allow them to sit opposite Diane. One was a woman about Christine’s age. She had thin brown hair and a narrow face. She looked pale, her hazel eyes were puffy, and she was thin. She wore a plain brown dress, no makeup or jewelry. The other woman looked a couple years older and, though heavier and taller, was so similar in facial structure that Diane thought they had to be sisters. She wore a navy suit and light makeup. Both looked so very sad.

  “I’m Lillian Watson Carver,” the older woman said. “This is my sister, Violet Watson. Welcome to our church.” She smiled at Diane, reached over, and shook her hand. “And thank you for looking into this. We are just overwrought. Nothing like this has ever happened in our family, ever.”

  “Was your person able to find anything?” asked Violet. She had a stronger voice than her appearance would suggest.

  Diane knew Violet meant the new autopsy, but she absolutely didn’t want to discuss that here—over food.

  “I’m sure she’ll tell us later,” whispered her sister.

  “Of course. What am I thinking? I’m sorry,” said Violet. “I just want this to end. I want the killer caught.”

  “That’s what I wanted to speak with you and your sister about,” said Diane. “Do you have any suspicions? Did your parents have any enemies?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Violet; her voice became a quaver. “Yes, they had enemies. They had people calling on the phone with threats.”

  Diane was surprised. She thought she was going to have to dig for information.

  “Do you know who was threatening them?” she asked.

  “Not who, by name, but I know where you can find them. Over at that . . . I won’t dignify them by calling it a church. That cult. Mom and Dad were getting constant calls from them about Dad wanting to develop the county,” said Violet.

  “Did they threaten violence?” asked Diane.

  “Veiled threats,” said Lillian, making a stern face.

  “The kind that, if they were questioned, they would say they were just warning them what the Lord would do. I don’t know where they got their information about the Lord, but it wasn’t from the Bible.”

  “What kind of things would they say to your parents?” asked Diane. She could see in her peripheral vision that the people next to them were interested in the conversation. But of course, they would be. Everyone knew why Diane was here.

  “They wouldn’t tell us exactly. Didn’t want to worry us. But the people at the other church were very upset at Dad’s plans.”

  “All he was trying to do,” said a woman down the table from them, “was find something that would keep the young people here. There’s no jobs here, except for the sawmill and a few stores. Our kids grow up and move away. We’re an aging county.”

  Diane saw several people nod their heads in agreement.

  “Joe Watson hired as many as he could at the mill and in his hardware store,” said another man. “But he couldn’t support everybody. He was trying to come up with an idea that would provide all kinds of different jobs for everybody, and it was a good idea.”

  “And Roy Barre was trying to help him,” said a young man at another table. “Why, just getting decent cell service would be a big deal here.”

  Diane saw most people nod their heads. Only a few looked at their plates and simply ate their food—among them the woman she first encountered. She could see this was a hot topic that probably gave rise to more than one argument. But lead to killing?

  “Do you think any of our neighbors would do your parents harm?” said the woman in the blue dress and pearls. “Truthfully, Violet.” She looked as though she couldn’t hold her thoughts in any longer.

  “Truthfully, Maud,” Violet said, “yes. When you describe your neighbor as conversing with the devil, then it’s easy to go the next step and decide they are evil and dangerous, an abomination to God, and it’s all right to kill them.”

  The woman in blue shook her head sadly. Diane could see she had friends in the other church and couldn’t imagine any of them as murderers.

  “It’s mostly the sheriff, the reverend, and the deacons,” said the young man. “Don’t you tell me it’s not, Miss Maud.
They hated the Barres and the Watsons, and you know it.”

  “No, son,” said the woman’s husband. “This is wrong. They don’t carry hate in their hearts, and we shouldn’t either.”

  “What about the calls they made to my parents?” said Violet. “Mom was real upset about them. What is that, if not hate?”

  “Let’s not fight among ourselves,” said the minister. “Please. We have guests, and all they want is information, not judgments.” He cast a glance at the woman in the blue dress named Maud. He apparently didn’t think they needed to be disagreeing with the Watsons at a time like this.

  After that, Diane tried to keep the conversation low-key. Violet and Lillian did their best to remember who exactly might have called their parents with threats.

  “You can get your parents’ phone records,” Diane told the two sisters. “You might tell the sheriff to do that, as it is his case.”

  Violet shook her head. “The sheriff is going to sweep this under the rug.”

  “Tell him anyway,” said Diane. “How about the Barres?” Diane turned to Christine and Spence. “Did they get calls too?”

  “I don’t really know,” Christine said. “I’m not sure they would have mentioned it. Frankly, Daddy thought so little of those people, he would have considered threats from them to be normal.”

  “How about anyone else?” said Diane. “Can you think of anyone besides the Golgotha Church members who may have posed a threat to your parents? Had they mentioned speaking with any strangers about anything?”

  Christine and Spence sat in silence for a moment. Diane could almost see them thinking as they chewed their food.

  “There was a young couple,” said Spence. “Daddy didn’t say much about them, except that they were interested in the history of the area. But he said they were pretty young and naive. I didn’t get the idea they were any kind of a threat.”

  “When was this?” said Diane. She was thinking this was probably Liam’s client’s daughter and her boyfriend.