Thrilling Thirteen

by Ponzo, Gary

  It didn’t take long to get back to the army base. Nowhere takes long when you can take a crow-flies route and don’t ever meet traffic. But all the way there I tried to work out the reason for this abrupt summons.

  Do they know why I’m really here? And if so, how did they find out? Or did they guess?

  Perhaps my question about the frequency of thefts from the dead had struck too close to home. But with no sign of obvious forced entry to the morgue or the ante room, it was looking decidedly like either a pro at work or an inside job.

  I half expected to find Joe Marcus waiting on the landing pad with my kitbag at his feet and an instruction not to bother getting out because I was on my way straight back to the airport.

  But the only people waiting for us when we set down were the army stretcher teams—Riley must have radioed ahead. Between us we quickly offloaded our cargo.

  It was Hope who looked about her, puzzled, and said, “Are you going to go find Joe? I want to know what’s worth dragging us off site in the middle of the day. He wants his bumps feeling for that.”

  I agreed, even if I wasn’t going to volunteer to be the one to do it. I asked one of the stretcher bearers if they’d seen Joe Marcus and was told he was in the morgue with Dr Bertrand.

  Hope pulled a face and said she’d take Lemon to the mess hall and see what they could scrounge between them.

  “You’ll come and find me when you’re done with Joe?” she asked.

  I assured her I would.

  I found Marcus in the mortuary as predicted, together with Dr Bertrand and, to my surprise, the police commander, Peck. The two men were standing back from one of the post-mortem exam tables, watching Dr Bertrand peeling open the chest of a lean male cadaver. His face was a mess, crushed and misshapen, the features offset as if wearing a horror mask that had badly slipped.

  It was damage I recognised.

  “Ah, Charlie,” Marcus said when he caught sight of me, adding dryly, “You already met Commander Peck, I understand.”

  “Yes sir,” I said, holding my hand out as I approached. Automatic good manners had Peck reaching to shake it. I gave it a few hearty pumps with a friendly smile on my face, watching him for signs of discomfort. He showed only bemusement at my enthusiastic greeting.

  Damn. That’s that theory out the window.

  Marcus gestured to the body on the slab. “This is the guy who—”

  “Was found outside the jewellery store with the woman,” I finished for him. “Yes, I know.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  It was Peck who demanded, “You know this man?”

  “Not his identity, no. But I got a good look at him yesterday … when you were searching the bodies after they were brought out,” I said. “It’s not a state of face you forget in a hurry.”

  Dr Bertrand glanced at the body with a frown, as if unable to work out what made it memorable. I guessed she’d seen a lot worse in her time.

  “That is immaterial,” she said. She indicated the gaping chest cavity with a gore-spattered glove. “What I found ’ere is of greater concern at present. See for yourself.”

  The invitation was issued in an off-hand manner with just an underlying hint of smug. She clearly expected me not to spot whatever it was she was indicating. Then I would be compelled to ask and she would have the opportunity to sledgehammer home her superior knowledge.

  I moved closer, leaned over the body, remembering to breathe shallowly through my mouth. It didn’t stop the taste of death from settling on my tongue but it was better than the alternative.

  Looking down, I saw the rib cage had already been cracked open and the breastplate of sternum and ribs removed in one piece. The heart and other organs still nestled in place but I noticed a blackened torn mass at the bottom edge of the left lung. I peered closer, then glanced up and met Dr Bertrand’s quickly hidden look of surprise.

  “Would you mind, doctor?” I asked politely, indicating the lower triangular flap of skin that she had folded back to hide the whole of the abdomen. With disapproval in every line, she lifted it for me to inspect. I saw what I was looking for almost at once, nodded and stepped back.

  “He was shot,” I said, drawing blank stares from the three of them. Not for my verdict but the fact I’d been able to reach it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “You can see the front entry wound—here,” I said, keeping my voice cool and level, pointing to the dead man’s chest. “I’d say the round clipped the bottom edge of his lung. Without taking a look at his back I wouldn’t like to guess on it being a through-and-through but it wasn’t a large calibre if I’m any judge—maybe a thirty-eight or a nine mil. The wound was possibly not bad enough to be immediately fatal, but without immediate medical attention I doubt he would have lasted long.”

  And he didn’t last long because—looking at his face—the earthquake got him before he had a chance to bleed out or suffocate to death.

  For a second nobody moved and then Dr Bertrand gave me a stiff little nod, as if it grieved her to have to do it.

  Commander Peck cleared his throat. “We are looking at homicide here and I shall be launching a full investigation.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Joe Marcus said. “If the quake hadn’t hit, he might have survived.”

  “With a bullet through his lung?” Peck scoffed.

  “Why not?” I asked. “I managed just that a year or so ago. I have the scars to prove it.”

  Peck gave me a strange look as if he was pretty sure I was joking but he couldn’t be sure. “Either way, you don’t shoot a man in the chest without intending to kill him, regardless of what actually finishes him off.”

  I couldn’t refute the logic of that. “Do we know who he is yet?”

  Marcus lifted one shoulder. “Maybe,” he said. “The woman he was found with is a French tourist, Gabrielle Dubois. According to immigration she entered the country last weekend, travelling with a man called Enzo Lefévre, her fiancé.”

  “That was quick,” I said.

  Marcus ducked his head in Peck’s direction. “The commander remembered her name from looking at her ID,” he said without inflection. “From there it was easy enough to check out her passport record.”

  I nodded, turning over this new information. If Peck had originally taken the woman’s wallet to conceal her identity, why give it up voluntarily now? After all, it would have been entirely believable for him to say he didn’t take a good enough look at the ID to recall the details.

  “You seemed to think she’d been reported missing. Was that why you were looking for her?” I asked him.

  He lifted a casual shoulder. “I thought I recognised her but I was mistaken.” His face was expressionless, giving nothing away. Probably best never to get into a poker game with the police commander.

  “So … why drag us off the streets for this?” I asked Marcus, getting the perplexity into my voice without having to work too hard. “Couldn’t it have waited until we got back later anyway?”

  His face ticked in irritation. “Because there’s a threat here you need to be aware of, Charlie,” he said. “Somebody shot this guy right before the earthquake hit. We don’t know why, and we haven’t yet recovered a body clutching a gun. Plus there were no survivors other than the store owner on that street, so it looks like our gunman got away.”

  “He could well be the man you say broke in here last night,” Peck said. “Although I have inspected all the points of entry and can only assume this man was highly professional, or that he had access.”

  It was an echo of my own earlier thoughts, and although he left that one dangling nobody wanted to make a grab for it.

  “So, why steal their identification?” I asked instead. “What does that achieve?”

  “Perhaps the robber was known to them.” Peck made a vague flapping motion with his hand. “Perhaps he fears that if we were able to identify these people we might also make some connection to him?”

  Marcus’s stare lasted
a second or two longer than it needed to, and spoke volumes as to what he thought of that idea.

  “Or perhaps,” I echoed the commander with a straight face, “Mr Rojas might be able to fill in some blanks.”

  Peck straightened to show the mild jibe had not passed unnoticed. “I will be questioning Rojas in due course. I trust that you will leave this in my hands.” He gave a stilted bow of his head to Dr Bertrand and Joe Marcus but ignored me completely as he headed for the main door out of the mortuary.

  “You know, Charlie,” Marcus said as we watched the commander disappear. “I get the feeling he really doesn’t like you.”

  “Oh-dear-what-a-pity-never-mind,” I said cheerfully. “So, when do we go and see Mr Rojas?”

  Just for a second Marcus’s severe face cracked into a smile. “Any time you’re ready.”

  “I’ll just go and let Hope know what’s happening,” I said. “I’ll meet you by the helo in five.”

  But Hope was not in the mess hall as I expected. I jogged across the parade square to the NCOs’ quarters we’d been assigned, aware that if I went more than half a minute past the five I’d promised Marcus, he was likely to take off without me.

  That was the reason I forgot my manners and just shoved open the door to Hope’s room already calling her name.

  And my voice died in my throat.

  Hope was sitting cross-legged on her bed. Her head jerked up when I burst in and her mouth formed a soundless oh. Spread on a shirt in front of her was a pile of stones. Some of them were pebbles, of the type that I’d seen Lemon delivering to her so solemnly when we were out in the field.

  But the others were far too small to have been picked up by a dog’s mouth, however delicate. They glittered against the fabric, cut and graded and polished—the precious stones I’d seen scattered outside Santiago Rojas’s jewellery store.

  Hope tensed, her eyes darted wildly. They even flicked to where Lemon lay stretched out on a blanket with her favourite chew toy next to her. The yellow Lab had lurched from her side onto her belly when I made my entrance, letting out a couple of loud sneezes as she was woken from sleep. She lifted her head, recognised me and flopped back down again with a loud grumbling sigh.

  Hope’s flight reflex folded in on itself and collapsed, taking her composure with it. For a moment I thought she might cry.

  I stood there frozen with one hand still on the doorknob until I heard footsteps and voices approaching. I stepped inside quickly and closed the door.

  “What’s going on, Hope?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and quiet. I’d seen how Lemon leapt to her handler’s defence when it was clear the girl was being threatened and I had no desire to be on the receiving end of those teeth.

  Hope bounced off the bed, tangling her bare feet in the blankets and stumbling straight into my arms in her haste.

  “Please,” she said, staring up at me. “Please, Charlie, don’t tell anyone!”

  “Hope …” My voice trailed away helplessly. I shook my head, said tiredly, “Just tell me what the hell is going on, will you?”

  That seemed to get to her more than harsh words would have done. She wrenched herself away and slumped down on the edge of the bed with her head bowed. Lemon rolled partly onto her back and gazed up at her with two legs waving and her tongue hanging out. Hope rubbed the side of the dog’s belly with one foot.

  “You picked these up on the street, didn’t you?” I went on when she didn’t speak. Let Joe Marcus go without me if he damn well pleased. As far as I was concerned this took precedence. Still, I didn’t have all night. “Hope?”

  “Yes,” she said, lifting her head and showing me more than a hint of defiance. “They’re just lying there, for fuck’s sake. Anybody could help themselves. You think they’ll be any left by the time that jeweller gets clearance to go back?”

  “That doesn’t mean they’re yours to take,” I said neutrally.

  “Why not?” she cried. “I’ve seen everyone take things, even the cops. Even the birds!” She let her head drop again so her next words emerged as a mumble: “S’not like I was gonna keep them.”

  I opened my mouth to make a “yeah, right” kind of comment, but then I remembered again the way she’d put the woman’s wallet back after she’d lifted it from Commander Peck and I stopped myself from coming out with anything too cynical.

  “Who knows about this?” I asked instead.

  “Nobody!” she assured me. If she kept bobbing her head up and down like this she was going to put her neck out. “Nobody else knows about it, and nobody else is doing it. It’s just me, all right?”

  I took in her mulish expression and realised there was no point arguing with her. Not right now. I checked my watch. “Look, Hope, I’m going back to see the jewellery store owner—”

  “Oh, please don’t tell him! I’ll put them all back, I swear!”

  I let my breath out. “I wasn’t going to tell him,” I said. “I simply meant I haven’t time to talk about this now, but we are going to talk about it—later, when I get back, yes?”

  Another mumble, less distinct this time. I took it for a yes anyway.

  “Good,” I said. I reached for the door handle again, paused as a final thought struck me. “Did Kyle Stephens know you were helping yourself to bits and pieces?”

  Hope didn’t answer that one, but from the sudden flare of loathing and fear that crossed her face, I didn’t need her to.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  I was, I realised as Joe Marcus and I headed back towards the hospital with Riley in the Bell, getting far too used to travelling everywhere by helicopter. Being grounded was going to seem very restrictive after all this.

  What I needed was to get out on a fast bike on an open road and blow the cobwebs out of my head. I still hadn’t replaced my Buell Firebolt after it was written-off by a bunch of kidnappers. Sean’s own bike remained under a cover in the parking garage below our building. I thought longingly of the Honda FireBlade I’d left behind in the UK, sitting equally dormant in the back of my parents’ garage. Maybe I’d get over there this year and take it out for a blast—if the tyres weren’t flat-spotted with standing and the fuel left in the tank hadn’t gone off.

  Or maybe not.

  Unable to side-track myself any longer, I dragged my mind back to Hope Tyler. I knew I was putting off examining what I’d seen and heard, and what it might mean. Hope was a confirmed thief, no two ways about it. She was too quick with her fingers to be anything else and it would seem that she’d trained Lemon to aid and abet. I wondered what the RSPCA or PETA would have to say about that.

  Still, if Hope had been helping herself from other disaster sites, would that really be enough to cause the rumours Mrs Hamilton had heard all the way back in New York? Hope struck me as a collector of pretty things rather than a serious player, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t tried to offload some of her booty in search of yet more pretty things. Wouldn’t take much carelessness there for her activities to come to light.

  Kyle Stephens had known what was going on—that much was clear from her reaction. When had he found out, and what had he been intending to do about it? I got the impression from Mrs Hamilton that what she really wanted was not confirmation or denial of the thefts, but for the problem to be simply made to go away. She had asked Stephens to take care of it for her.

  Instead he’d got himself killed.

  I was still tumbling those thoughts over and round when Riley set the Bell down on the pad outside the hospital and the engines spun down.

  “I never trust a woman when she goes quiet,” Joe Marcus said as we hopped down onto the baked concrete. “What’s on your mind, Charlie?”

  “Life, death, the universe and everything,” I said, keeping my tone light. “Any clues?”

  “Given some thought to all of it over the years.”

  “And?”

  He shook his head. “Never did come to any conclusions worth a damn.”

  We found Santiago Rojas looking b
oth better and worse.

  Better because he was out of his hospital bed and sitting in a low chair by the window. Worse because the bruising had blossomed across his face, turning his skin every colour of pain. He shifted awkwardly when we entered, making as if to rise. Marcus waved him back into his seat.

  I introduced them. Rojas clasped Marcus’s hand warmly, his eyes becoming moist. “So, you are one of the people responsible for getting me out of there alive,” he said, his voice husky. “For that, sir, I am forever in your debt.”

  “It’s kinda the whole point of what we do,” Joe Marcus said without any hint of embarrassment. I guessed he’d received a lot of similar thanks in his time.

  “I would like to give you something,” Rojas went on. “A small gift, from my store. Something of value—”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Marcus said quickly, and I couldn’t help wondering what he might have said if I hadn’t been with him. “If you feel you’d like to make a contribution to one of the disaster relief funds, well that would be more than enough.”

  “Ah, of course,” Rojas said quickly, not wanting to cause offence. His eyes went from one of us to the other expectantly.

  “We wondered if you’d had any more recollections of what happened—just before the earthquake?” I said.

  He frowned. “I do not understand why it is so important for you to know this,” he said. “There must be so many dead and injured.”

  “You remember the couple I told you about? They were found just outside your store—the woman with the ruby engagement ring?”

  “Ah, you found the ring. So it is her?” He nodded sadly. “I am so sorry they did not survive. She was so beautiful. And she seemed so happy.”

  “Her name was Gabrielle Dubois,” Marcus said. “What can you tell us about the man who was with her?”

  “Her fiancé?” Rojas gave a confined shrug, as much as his injuries would allow. “He was a man of … sophistication. A man of the world, I think you would say. Older than she, but good looking, of course, to have snared such a beautiful lady.”