Reightman set in silence reviewing all she’d learned from Tom and Evans. “Was there anything at all about Lieberman’s death you feel is out of the ordinary?”
The doctor hesitated before answering. “The only thing which caught my attention was a small mark on his right wrist. It appeared to have been caused by a binding of some sort. I dismissed it when there were no similar markings on the other wrist. It may have been caused by a too tight sleeve cuff or something of that nature.”
“Could it have been caused by a restraint, Doctor Evans? A restraint used in some sort of bondage roleplay?” She saw Jackson give a slight roll of his eyes.
To her credit, Evans didn’t dismiss the idea. “It could have been caused by any number of things, Detective Reightman. As I said, it did cause me to re-examine the marking and to check elsewhere.”
“What was in the vial of liquid found at the scene, Doctor?” Jackson asked. “Tom Anderson indicated that he was going to turn it over to you.”
“He did,” Evans confirmed. “The vial contained a preservative solution and held Geraldo Guzman’s severed foreskin. Unfortunately, it confirms what I’d suspected about Doctor Lieberman. I’m only sorry it wasn’t retrieved sooner so it could’ve been included with the body when I released it earlier today. Please let Mr. Bailey know it’s now in our possession, although I won’t be able to release it until we’ve finished up with the case.”
“I understand Dr. Bridges was given a cloth from the scene to test for a saliva match to Lieberman.” Reightman replied after a moment. “When will she be done determining if the saliva is a match?”
“She is currently concluding the work on Lieberman. I think she’ll be able to finish tomorrow. I’ll make sure she notifies you of the result.”
“Thank you Dr. Evans. I suppose my last question is, when you will be ready to rule on the cause of death.”
“I’m going to have one more conversation with Tom Anderson, and I’ll make sure Dr. Bridges doesn’t have anything to add to the findings. However, as of this moment I’m intending to rule the death as self-inflicted, by gunshot wound to the head. In other words – suicide.”
Reightman leaned back in her chair, thinking of her earlier theory. Evans sounded sure of herself, and so had Tom Anderson. Still, there were unanswered question and she wasn’t willing to let things rest yet. “I understand why you’ve reached your decision, Doctor, although as Jackson knows, I’m not yet satisfied it’s all as straight-forward as it seems. I intend to investigate further.”
“That is, of course, your prerogative and has to be decided between you and Chief Kelly. If additional evidence does turn up and warrants further consideration, I’ll be happy to amend the ruling.” After a moment more, Evans stood from her chair behind the desk. “If that’s all, Detectives, it’s been a very long day and I hope to get out of here as soon as possible.”
They thanked her, and went back to their desks. They worked on updating the files of both Guzman and Lieberman, making additions based upon the last day. After about an hour, Reightman’s desk phone buzzed and after glancing at the caller ID, she answered.
“Hello, Chief.”
“I’m glad you’re still here in the building. Is Jackson with you?”
“Yes, Chief, we’re both still here.”
“I’d like you both come on over so we can talk about the Guzman case, and Lieberman’s death as well.”
“We’ll both be there in a just minute, sir.” Reightman hung up the phone and looked over to her partner. “The Chief wants to see us in his office, Jackson.” He was entering notes into an electronic file, while swearing softly under his breath. He remained focused on his task so she nudged, “We’d better head on over there. You know how he gets if he’s kept waiting.”
“Yes, I know,” he grunted as he struggled to finish his entry. “I’m about sick of this new notation system anyway. It keeps sending me back to add something to a field, even when there is nothing appropriate to enter.” He stood and pulled on his jacket.
Once seated in the Chief’s office in the very familiar pleather chairs arranged in front of his desk. Reightman noticed the circles underneath Kelly’s eyes and the slightly clamped way that he was holding his jaw.
“I’ve spoken with Dr. Evans and with Tom Anderson,” he started without any greeting or preamble. “I wanted to talk with the two of you about how we finish up.”
“What do you mean, Chief? I wasn’t aware we’re ready to close the files,” Reightman said slowly, surprised by Kelley’s words.
“It seems to me like we’ve reached the end of the line on this one. Unless you have something to add that I’m not aware of.”
Reightman considered her words as she eyed the Chief’s expression. “The thing is, I’m not sure we are at the end of this. There are still unanswered questions, and I have reservations about calling it a done deal right now.”
“Perhaps you’d better explain yourself, Reightman,” the Chief directed as he paced his hands on his desk.
Reightman proceeded to detail the open questions, including the glasses, the cloth, the marks on Lieberman’s right wrist, the missing cash, and the two letters at the bottom of the suicide note.
When she’d finished, Kelly leaned back in his chair. “Let me see if I understand what you’re telling me. You think Lieberman was killed by some hired hustler, who arrived at Lieberman’s house wearing a pair of dorky, non-prescription glasses, and then proceeded to simulate a suicide so professionally he didn’t leave a single trace of himself behind, and just slunk out the door with no one any the wiser.”
“When you put it like that, I guess it does seem far-fetched, sir. But I do think we need to close the loop on a few things before we just accept it was suicide.”
The Chief chewed the inside of his check and fiddled with a pen on his desk. “Doctor Evans sounded pretty sure of herself and Anderson didn’t seem to feel there was any need to dispute her ruling. I appreciate wanting to tie everything up with a neat little bow, and can almost understand your reasoning. Hell, I can even accept the idea Lieberman hired a trick and engaged in some kinky fun. I can get behind the theft of some cash. What I can’t buy into, Reightman, is the rest of the scenario. That kind of thing only happens in the movies, Detective, not in real life.” The Chief watched Reightman’s face, seeing doubt appear after his last comment. “Jackson, what do you think about your partner’s wild ass suppositions?”
Jackson squirmed in his seat before answering, “Sir, I think Reightman’s concerns have merit and should be investigated further.” Before Reightman could brighten at his response, he added, “But, I agree the scenario she suggests is not probable.” He turned to his partner and shrugged. “I’m sorry, Melba, but I have to agree with the Chief.”
Kelly leaned back in his chair, pleased he and Jackson were in agreement. “I think there’s more than enough evidence to tie Lieberman to Guzman’s death. The suicide note coupled with the little vial of…skin is pretty damning. It’s pretty clear Lieberman was the person responsible for Guzman’s death.”
“But, Chief, that’s impossible!” Reightman objected. “I agree Lieberman is somehow tied to Guzman’s murder, but he was a huge man and he certainly wasn’t coordinated enough to exit the murder scene without leaving a trace.”
“Maybe his hired hustler hitman helped,” Kelly mocked and grinned at Jackson.
Reightman heard the ridicule in his voice. “Sir, regardless of your personal view of the situation, I don’t think making fun of me or my reservations about the closure of these investigations is warranted.” As the Chief’s grin faded and his jaw clamped tight, she added in a more conciliatory tone, “Give us just a little more time before we close this case. I can’t accept the idea Lieberman killed Guzman, at least not directly.”
Kelly directed his gaze to Jackson. “What do you think, Jackson?”
Jackson was uncomfortable at being put on the spot again, especially since this time he agreed with his pa
rtner. “Sir, I think you should consider what she’s saying.”
“What I should consider is up to my judgment and discretion, Jackson, not yours!” the Chief snapped. “And you didn’t answer the question.”
“Yes sir, I believe I did,” he replied calmly, although there was a hint of steel in his voice.
“I’m disappointed in your answer, Jackson,” the Chief replied tiredly. There was also an undercurrent of some other emotion in his voice. “I’ll take it under advisement and give your position some thought. You’ll know my answer tomorrow.”
As they left the office and headed back to their desks, Reightman nudged Jackson with her shoulder. “Thanks for backing me up, Jackson – there at the end. I’m glad you agree we need to investigate this further.”
He stopped in the middle of the aisle running between desks. “I don’t know if I agree with your theory, Melba. But I’ve learned to trust your gut. If something’s bugging you I have to give you the benefit of the doubt, at least for a while longer.”
Arriving back at their desks, they turned off their computers and left the building for the night.
Melba made herself some dinner and then had a cup of tea while looking through a couple of magazines. She finally turned out the lights and called it quits. She had a restless, dream-filled night. She finally climbed out of bed and stumbled to the shower. Clean and dressed, and feeling better after the hot shower, she started the coffee pot. When she turned on the television and saw a live action feed of several people standing behind microphones on the steps of City Hall, she frowned, recognizing some of the faces.
She turned up the volume in time to hear Chief Ernest Kelly announce they’d closed the murder of Gerald Guzman. The murderer, former City Coroner Benjamin Lieberman, had been found yesterday, he announced to the crowd and the cameras, dead from a self-inflicted gunshot to the head. The case was now closed. He gave credit for solving the murder to her and to her team and generously praised Anderson’s staff and to the Coroner’s office for their work. Then he stepped back from the microphone, and turned and accepted the congratulations of the Mayor and members of the City Council. The last person he spoke with was Councilman Sutton Dameron, who heartily shook Kelly’s hand and leaned forward to whisper something near his ear.
A moment later her phone rang and she picked it up, recognizing it was Sam.
“Melba, did you see?”
“Yeah,” she said in a stunned voice. “Just now, when I turned on the TV.” She mentally ran through what she had just witnessed. “Kelly sold us out, Sam. He caved to pressure from somewhere or someone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too, Sam. Sorrier than you’ll ever know.”
♦♦♦
An hour later, Reightman pulled into the precinct parking lot and got out of her car. Her mind was still processing the image of Chief Kelly shaking hands and exchanging polite words with the Mayor and the City Council, and most vivid in her mind, with Sutton Dameron.
She stowed her purse and headed to the breakroom for a mug of hot water and discovered the usual collection of characters waiting on the coffee pot.
“Congratulations, Reightman,” one of the gang greeted as she entered the breakroom door and pulled a mug from the cabinet. “Bet you’re glad that one’s over,” another coffee addict called from his place near the back of the line. “Yeah, and even happier Lieberman got his!” another added.
She pasted a brittle smile on her face, and responded to their comments as politely as she could before making her escape. Back at her desk, she placed a bag of tea into her mug and the picked up the phone and dialed Kelly’s office.
“Good Morning, Nancy.” Reightman inhaled the jasmine scent rising from the cup. “Is the Chief in?”
Nancy hesitated before answering, “No, I’m sorry, he isn’t. He hasn’t made it back from City Hall yet.”
“He’s probably still glad-handing and slapping backs,” Reightman’s inner cynic suggested. “Does he have any time open on the calendar today?” She gave the teabag a gentle squeeze while she waited for Nancy’s response.
“No, he’s gonna' be really busy today.”
“Okay, if he gets a free minute can you–”
Nancy cut her off. “Look, Melba I probably shouldn’t say anything, but he asked me not to put any of your calls through, and said he for me not to find you a spot on his calendar today, even if he had an opening.” Nancy made it clear that there was no way Reightman was going to get in to see Kelly any time soon.
“So, that’s the way it’s going to be,” Reightman’s inner voice acknowledged. The outer voice took longer to respond. “I understand. Thanks anyway.” Reightman hung up the phone.
She sat with her elbows on the desk as she sipped the tea. “I wonder where Sam is this morning?” She turned on her computer and waited for it to boot. She was working through her new email when the phone buzzed. Without looking at the display she absently picked up the receiver. “Reightman,” she answered.
“Good morning Detective.” She recognized Doris’s voice as the clerk continued, “I’m calling to let you know I have some things over here for Mr. Bailey, from the Guzman case. Since you picked them up for him last time, I was wondering if you wanted to do the same with this batch of stuff?”
“I thought I’d already picked up and returned everything.”
“Well, there are another couple of things here,” Doris replied as she rustled something near the phone. “Looks like an earring and a necklace of some sort. Word came down from on high this morning that these items are cleared for return.”
“Sure, Doris. I’ll be down shortly to pick them up.”
“Don’t forget to take a release form with you, Detective,” Doris reminded her before hanging up.
“Now isn’t that interesting? Kelly must be anxious to sweep out everything related to this as quickly as possible.” Reightman finished the last swallow of tea and then picked up her cell phone and dialed Toby. “Good morning, Toby, this is Detective Reightman.”
“I wondered when you’d get around to calling. You must have been busy cleaning all the files off of your desk.” Reightman could hear the anger in his voice, hidden underneath the harsh sarcasm.
“You must have seen the news this morning.”
“Yes, I did, and it was quite a surprise. I thought you would’ve had the decency to call me first and give me some kind of warning. That’s what you told me you were going to do.”
“I didn’t intend for it to happen that way, Toby. It was as big of a surprise to me as was to you. I’m sorry you heard about it the way you did.”
She heard him blowing out a breath of air before he spoke again. “What do you need, Detective? I have a busy morning ahead of me. I’m trying to get things under control so I can leave town. Tomorrow is Geri’s funeral.”
Try as she might, Reightman couldn’t find anything to say in response. Finally, she simply told him the reason for her call. “I have some items of his that I’d like to return to you – the jewelry he was wearing the night he...that he was…”
“I think the night he was murdered is what you’re trying to say, Detective. The night Geri Guzman was stabbed and sliced until he bled to death on a massage table. Is that it?” His anger was no longer hidden, but was now front and center in his voice.
She took the only road available, and asked, devoid of emotion, “Mr. Bailey, would it be convenient for me to drop the items by this morning before you leave? I can be there in about thirty minutes.”
“Yes,” he answered, as cool and detached as she’d ever heard. “I’ll be here at the spa. I think you know the location. The front door will be open. The cleaning company is working here today.” He disconnected without saying goodbye.
Twenty-four minutes later, Reightman pulled her car up in front of the Time Out Spa. As she stepped out of the car and positioned her purse, she noticed a man on a ladder wielding a small handheld tool of some sort, blasting fine particles of
fine, gritty sand against the old brick work to remove the graffiti. Another man was working a few feet to the right, dipping a brush into a small bucket and applying some unknown liquid around the window.
Reightman stepped up on the curb and walked to the door. “Excuse me!” she shouted, “I need to get in. Can you hold up for a second?” The man obliging turned off the blaster so that she could open the door.
She recognized SarahJune, the spa receptionist, seated behind the front desk talking on the phone. “Sounds like she’s trying to reschedule appointments,” Reightman thought as she waited patiently in front of the desk.
SarahJune looked up at her and smiled while rolling her eyes. “One sec,” she whispered. “Sorry, Detective,” she apologized when she finished the call. “I’ve been trying to reconfirm clients all morning. Between handling that, and the dealing with the cleaning crew, this place has been a zoo.”
“I’m sure it has,” Reightman sympathized. “I’m here to see Tob…Mr. Bailey. Is he available?”
“Yeah, he’s in his office. You can go on back,” SarahJune told her with another smile before picking up the phone again and dialing another spa client. Reightman brushed past a man coming from the back of the building carrying a container marked with symbols indicating it held hazardous waste. When she reached Toby’s partially opened office door, she knocked on the doorframe.
“Come on in,” his voice called.
She entered and saw Toby seated at his computer, back to the room. “Are you done in the breakroom?” he asked without turning around.
“He must think I’m part of the cleaning crew," Reightman realized before she cleared her throat and answered. “Mr. Bailey, it’s Detective Reightman.”
His fingers stilled on the keyboard and he slowly turned around and then stood up. “Detective Reightman,” he acknowledged coolly.
“Good morning, Mr. Bailey.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the small brown envelope and its accompanying form. “I have Mr. Guzman’s things.” She placed them into his outstretched hand. “I’ll need you to sign the form as well.” She watched as he unfolded the form from around the envelope and laid it on the desk. He picked up a pen and signed it before handing it back. “Aren’t you going to check the contents?” she asked, taking the paper from him.
Done Rubbed Out Page 36
