He looked into the second drawer and saw something immediately. Inside the drawer, just about where the legs of the deceased would have been, was a gout of slimy gray mass.
“Stringbean,” Walter said. Stringbean was standing beside him, but not paying attention. “There’s something in this drawer.”
Stringbean looked inside. “Oh, for goodness sake.” He twisted around. “Tanner!” he yelled. “Get your sorry butt out here.”
Tanner bolted out of the break room. He was as tall as his uncle but had fifty more pounds on him. His baby soft face looked distressed.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“I got two gripes,” Stringbean said as Tanner came up to him. “One, I told you not to go back in these two drawers.”
“I didn’t mean to. I got my numbers mixed up.”
“And two, I told you to eat only in the break room. Look at this mess. What the hell is that?”
Tanner peered into the drawer. “Oh, that’s yogurt. I didn’t realize I had spilled any.”
Stringbean shook his head.
“I’ll get something and clean it up real quick,” Tanner said. He hurried off.
“That was done after the crime scene guys come by.”
“Walter nodded. “It doesn’t matter. I doubt I’ll find anything here.”
“If you ask me, I think it had to be an inside job.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Whoever stole these bodies came through that door without putting so much as a scratch on the lock, or the door. Seems to me they had a key.”
“Or, they were very good at picking locks,” Walter countered.
“Maybe, but … it just seems too smooth. Even if the body snatchers took the less obvious route out of the hospital, they would have had to pass at least one nurses’ station. And two deceased bodies would have been hard to hide.”
“Nurses sometimes leave their station,” Walter countered.
“True, but the timing would have to be nearly perfect. It would be a lot easier if the nurse at the station was in on the plot.”
“The plot?” Walter snickered. “So now it’s a plot?”
“I’m just saying,” Stringbean answered. “There’s been a lot of suspicious stuff been going on around here in the last year or so. A lot of new people showing up. A lot of residents disappearing.”
Tanner walked by them with a wet cloth and some paper towels. He began cleaning up the yogurt from out of the drawer.
Stringbean’s cell phone began to sing a Hank William’s Sr. Song from inside his pocket. He slipped the phone out and peeked to see who was calling.
“Excuse me a minute,” he said to Walter and stepped away before Walter could answer.
Tanner finished cleaning up the mess he had made and headed back to the break room.
Walter took advantage of this time alone and placed his hand inside the drawer that Tanner had just cleaned up. He concentrated aiming to extract any images that the compartment would offer him. Nothing came to him.
He placed his hand inside the other drawer. He hoped that Stringbean would give him a couple more minutes before he returned. Once again Walter concentrated. He thought that he should get something, even if it were just images of the recently departed man’s life. But there was still nothing.
“My wife,” Stringbean said, walking back.
Walter removed his hand from the drawer and turned to face him. “Isn’t there an incinerator down here for cremations?”
“Sure. It’s right next door. But it’s already been checked. It hasn’t been used recently if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“It was a thought.” He gave a partial smile. “Well, I guess there’s nothing else to look at down here.”
“Keep my theory in mind about it being an inside job.”
“I sure will,” Walter said.
They shook hands and Walter eagerly left the morgue. As he walked away, he thought how much of an enigma Stringbean was. Sometimes he sounded like a hick but when it came to his job he was somewhat of a genius.
He headed out in the direction of one of the side entrances to the hospital. If someone, or some people—which was more likely—wanted to take the bodies out of the hospital they would not want to go through the main entrance.
There was only one nurse’s station before reaching the outside door. A lady was standing behind the desk looking down at an open folder when he walked up.
“Excuse me,” he said.
The lady looked up. “Yes, can I help you?”
“I’m detective Walter Jackson.” He presented his badge.
The lady was small, maybe five feet tall at just over a hundred pounds. Her hair was flaming red. Her face was slightly freckled. She looked to be in her mid-twenties.
“Yes,” she said tentatively.
“Did you happen to be working last night?”
“No. It was Janet. Janet Denoe. Why?”
Walter ignored her question. “Do you know when she’ll be back to work?”
“She’s off for a couple of days, but I can give you her cell phone number.”
“I would appreciate it.”
She wrote the number on a note pad, tore out the sheet and handed it to him
Walter looked at the paper a moment then folded it up and put it in his pocket. He told himself that he would talk to the lady tomorrow. It was doubtful that she would have anything helpful to say anyway. Besides, he didn’t consider this investigation to be of prime importance.”
CHAPTER 8
The stocky, bald man temporarily removed the fat cigar from his mouth and blew out a stream of gray smoke off to the side. “It looks like the pieces are starting to come together, but we’re not quite there. Close, but no cigar.” He smiled at his last statement. Special agent Candace Caine, who sat in the seat across from him smiled back but wasn’t sure what the joke was about.
“Here’s the deal,” he said. “I need you to bring in this Mira Capilano for questioning. Maybe she can fill in some of the gaps we have if we ask her nicely.”
“Yes, sir. I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
“You’ll have other agents with you. I don’t think she’s crazy enough to put up a fight.”
The man stood up and walked over to the wide picture window as he puffed slowly on his cigar. He looked down upon the steady stream of traffic that flowed smoothly past their three-story building. What he had uncovered so far was indeed serious, but he couldn’t help but think that there was something far more sinister hidden just below the surface. He had begun to think that Sam Ryker was really on to something. He had a rather crazy idea but was reluctant to share it just yet.
The man stepped back over to his desk and snuffed out the stub of his cigar into a big, glass ashtray. Earlier in the week, he had called a friend of his in the bureau. Someone he had worked with on and off over the years. He had asked him to meet him at the Madison FBI branch where he could talk to him about the Nexus case, to see if he was interested and free to join in on the investigation. His friend had indicated that he was between cases and would be there this morning. Then this morning he had called to say that he wanted to bring two of his agents along, but that it would be tomorrow at the earliest before he could make it.
“Will that be all?” Candace asked.
“Yes.” He looked at her a moment before speaking again. “Be careful.”
“Of course,” she said. She smiled, stood up, and headed out the door.
He watched her leave then made his way to his chair where he plopped down as if all the strength had suddenly left his legs. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.
He had been feeling his years lately. All sixty-six of them. Maybe after this latest case was completed, he would give it all up and retire. He had put in some good years. It might be a good idea to quit while he was in good health and could enjoy the leisure time. It had been a long time since he had done any fishing.
He felt a little guilty abou
t not divulging to Candace his full thoughts about the mayor and his people, but, for now, it was probably better that he didn’t. Until he had something substantial to back up his conclusions, he thought it better to keep it to himself.
The phone on his desk suddenly buzzed. It was his secretary. He pushed the speaker button.
“Yes, Anna?”
“Your wife is on line two, sir.”
“Thank you, Anna.”
“Yes sir,” she answered, and hung up.
He hesitated a moment before picking up the phone. It suddenly occurred to him that he had an appointment today. He and his wife—estranged wife, that is—were to see a marriage counselor today.
“Hello, Nancy.”
“Hello, Horace.” Her voice was pleasant enough, but there was a cold undertone to it. “You didn’t forget about our meeting this evening, did you?”
“No. Certainly not.”
“Well, I’m calling to make sure you’re still going. You’ve missed the last two. Supposedly you got tied up with more important things.” He started to object, but before he could she continued. “I need to know if you’re going to make this one. If not then we’ll just call it all off. It’ll be the final over for us.”
“No, believe me, I hadn’t forgotten. It’s been on my mind all day. I really do want to fix our marriage.”
She was silent as if contemplating what he had just said. “Okay, she finally said. “Will you be on time?’
“Yes, I was just heading out. I was going to stop by the house and take a quick shower and change into some more comfortable clothes.”
“Look,” she said, “I know you’re busy. You have a lot of responsibilities on your shoulders. But, honey, we have some problems that need to be resolved. Problems that we can’t fix ourselves. You know that. We’ve tried. I still love you, otherwise, I would have given up a long time ago.”
“I know. And I still love you, too. I promise I’m going to try harder.”
“Alright. I’ll see you soon. Don’t disappoint me.”
“I won’t,” he answered.
They said their goodbyes and hung up.
He had forgotten about their meeting with their marriage counselor. But it wasn’t because he no longer cared about Nancy or their marriage. It was just that he had let too much of his work pile up on him. Too many things to think about. He was known to obsess over cases. It was another good reason for him to go ahead and retire.
He didn’t feel right about leaving work early. He wanted to be around when Candace brought Mira in for questioning. He was anxious to either dismiss or bolster these ideas that he had about what was really going on in the town of Nexus. Beyond the legal charges, they were looking at.
He would leave his cell phone on during their session though their counselor wouldn’t be too thrilled about it if he knew but it couldn’t be helped. He had to be available if Candace should run into any trouble. He would, however, leave the phone on vibrate so if Candace should call, he could discreetly dismiss himself for a few minutes and not upset their meeting too much.
He stood up out of his chair and slipped his black fedora over his head. He sighed dreading having to expose his personal feelings to some too young kid with a college degree. Of course, these days over half the people he met seemed too young. He guessed the guy knew what he was doing. For some too young thirty something-guy.
Horace walked out of his office and stopped beside the receptionist's desk.
“Anna, I’ve got a meeting with a marriage counselor today. I probably won’t see you until tomorrow. Unless it’s an emergency don’t call me. This counselor has a thing about phones going off during his sessions.”
“I understand, sir.” Anna looked up at him from her desk and smiled knowingly. She was a tall, slim redhead who wore her dresses a little too tight. “Me and my ex had to see a counselor for a while.”
Horace tried to stop himself, but the words slipped out anyway. “So how did that work out?”
She laughed. “Not good. But I think you’ll do a lot better.”
“Thanks,” he answered and smiled. “Hold down the fort for me.” He turned and strode out the door.
When he pulled his car into his garage, he realized that he still had an hour and a half before he had to meet his wife at the marriage counselor’s office. With the meeting being only fifteen minutes away he had enough time to shower, change clothes, and have himself a small glass of scotch. The drink would help to quell the nervousness that had just begun to assault him.
Only a vapid light illuminated the big kitchen as he stepped into it from the carport. Outside clouds had begun to gather and only allowed a weak light through the long, back window that faced the semi-circular island in the center of the kitchen. Barstools stood around the island counter like small, darkened soldiers half-hidden among weak shadows.
He flipped on the overhead fixtures and the shadows scattered. He tapped his code into the security keypad next to the door disarming the system.
Something didn’t feel right as he cut through the kitchen heading to the bedroom. He couldn’t immediately pinpoint what it was so he figured it must not have been very important. He pushed it to the back of his mind. It would probably come to him later. Sometimes it happened to him that way.
He cut through the living room and then down the hall to his bedroom. He was thinking of how good a glass of scotch was going to taste after a good, hot shower. Unfortunately, he would have to settle for a single glass. If the marriage counselor thought that he had had too much to drink he might cancel the session. He picked out some clothes from his closet and draped them across the bed. He took off his gun, a Glock 22, and set it beside his clothes then stepped into the bathroom.
He turned on the hot water faucet while he gathered up his shaving gear. Afterward, he wet his hand under the running water to splash on his face before adding the lotion. The water was cold. He thought that odd. The water should have been a little warm. He went ahead and rubbed the shaving lotion over his face. He tried the water again. It was still cold.
He went ahead and shaved thinking that the water would surely be hot by the time he was ready for the shower. To his dismay, it still came out cold.
He turned off the faucet and wiped off his face with a washcloth. It had to be the breaker. For whatever reason, it had apparently tripped. It had tripped one other time a few years ago. At that time, he had an electrician come out. The water heater itself was gas, but it required electricity to regulate the gas. The electrician had found a faulty control wire and had replaced it. There hadn’t been a problem since.
He went to the kitchen where the electrical panel. It was hidden in a small, closet-like enclosure. He quickly scanned the breakers. All of them said they were on. He found the single breaker that fed the water heater controls. He flipped it off then back on. It seemed okay to him.
A thought suddenly struck him. What had bugged him about the kitchen as he passed through was that there was a glass sitting in the sink. That shouldn’t have been. He never left the house with anything out of place. It was one of his anal obsessive hang-ups.
He stepped over to the sink. A glass lay canted in the sink. A trace of dark liquid lay at the bottom. Horace could smell the faint odor of bourbon. Someone had apparently slipped into his house and helped themselves to his bottle of bourbon. He wondered how they had gotten past his security system.
He looked about the kitchen for any other sign that someone had been in his house. He immediately noticed that the door to his basement was a bit ajar. It suddenly occurred to him that someone might still be here.
He ran from the kitchen and retrieved his Glock from off the bed. He quickly determined that he needed to check the entire house for an intruder.
He opened his large walk-in closet and glanced around inside even though he had been in there less than ten minutes ago. No one was hiding inside tucked behind the clothes.
He looked under the bed not really expecting anyone to
be there but he wanted to be thorough. Besides a few dust devils, nothing was there.
After checking everywhere else he returned to the kitchen. There was no place to hide in the kitchen except for a tight squeeze in the panel closet but he had just been in there. That left the basement
He slipped quietly over to the basement door and slowly pulled the door open. He stepped onto the wooden landing. It groaned lightly. He had intended to descend to the basement in the dark to catch anyone hiding down there by surprise, but that plan wasn’t going to work. The basement was pitch black. He would be the one at a disadvantage. He flipped on the light.
He took one gingerly step after another down the line of stairs. He paused near the bottom. His eyes quickly scanned the cellar. Luckily it was unfinished. It consisted of one big room. The only thing down there was a water heater, a house heating unit, a washer, and a dryer. The only place to hide would be behind the heating unit. The washer and dryer were only a few inches from the wall while the water heater was too small for anyone except a child or a little person to hide behind.
He fixed his eyes on the unit as he made his way down the last few steps. He became aware of the smell then. Before he had been too focused on searching for anyone who might be inhabiting the basement to notice.
The smell was gas. Not exceptionally strong right now, but certainly something he had to attend to. If left alone the gas would fill up the house in no time. Then it would only take a spark. He wondered if someone had intended to blow up his house, and maybe him with it. Or perhaps it was simply a leak. Either way, he felt lucky he had caught it in time. He could cut off the gas and call someone to fix it.
He took a single step across the basement floor when he spotted something small sitting on top of the water heater next to the gas line. He stopped suddenly. A chill raced down his body as he realized what it was. It was a cell phone. But with sudden horror, he realized that it was much more than that. It was a trigger!
He twisted around quickly and ran to the stairs. He got as far as the first step when the phone on the water heater rang.
The Nexus Page 6
