by LS Sygnet
"When you say not properly prepared, you mean what exactly?" I scooted off the counter and let curiosity override queasiness.
"Ordinarily when someone dies, the vital organs are removed. The process of putrefaction made this man rot from the inside out, or should have, but he's intact. It's very bizarre."
"I don't understand."
"Think ancient Egyptian mummification, Helen. They basically did the same thing we do now, only they kept the organs in jars and whatnot for the afterlife." She paused briefly before mumbling, "Jesus Christ and General Jackson."
"What now?"
"See this hole in his arm? Two of them actually."
"Yeah. What is it? Bug activity?"
She chuckled. "I love it when you lay people try to identify shit you don't understand. Those are access marks into the brachial artery and vein, Helen. It's the one bit of evidence present on this man's body that I expected to find."
"Because of…?"
"Embalming fluid. One line pumps out blood, the other infuses solution that slows down decomposition."
"Creepy ritual, but I recall the reason why it was done in antiquity at least. They believed that kings and others important enough for the funerary ritual would need their preserved bodies in the next life."
Maya peered over her magnification glasses. "Ever hear of the resurrection of the saints? Believe me, our burial rituals and the superstitions behind them aren't all that dissimilar. This is what baffles me. If McNamara here was embalmed, why didn't anybody bother to take out the mushy wet guts that would've bloated him up like a beached whale before they bothered to inject solution to prevent rapid decomposition? And how on earth could Riley Storm declare that McNamara died from cardiac failure when he didn't crack his chest or look at his heart?"
"Let's back up for a minute. If his organs were left inside, how will that affect your ability to determine his cause of death?"
"On a corpse this old? I'm looking at a tough proposition anyway, Helen, unless I find evidence that he was shot or bashed in the head. I won't have blood, I'll have solvents like formaldehyde and methanol among others."
"What about his tissues? If he was poisoned, can't you test for it in whatever organs are left? We'd be looking at something that mimics heart attack."
"If you believe Riley Storm. Or the man who allegedly found poor McNamara and performed CPR until the paramedics arrived."
"That's right. Briscoe told me that Jerry Lowe found the chief collapsed in his office."
"So says the report."
"I wonder if the hospital still has his medical record on file somewhere," I said. "Surely that could help fill in a blank or two."
"Seven years," she said. "And that's about the longest that any hospital would retain such records. Sixteen would be an unbelievable stroke of good fortune."
"I wonder which hospital I should call. Maybe Orion would know."
"Speaking of which, you don't seem to be spitting blood at the mention of his name this morning. Is that a good sign that things are finally getting back to normal with the two of you?"
"This is as normal as it gets, Maya. My days here are still numbered. It's good to know that I'll have friends in Darkwater Bay when that day has come and gone."
"Friends, huh? He still looks pretty smitten to me."
"Wrong. Johnny, to coin a phrase I hate, has moved on. He's seeing somebody else, so you see, his concern for me is in the true spirit of friendship."
"When has he had time to start dating?"
I shrugged. "He says she's the one running the security business. Probably someone he's known and trusted for a very long time. Speaking of relationships, are you going with Ken to the party Saturday night?"
"Yes."
"Well, you can meet her then. She's his date."
"Don't tell me you're not going, Helen. You have to be there."
"I'm going with Zack Carpenter."
"Mistake," she muttered. "For both of you."
"Will you call if the autopsy shows up another bizarre clue? Orion and I are heading to Central Division for Chief Weber's press conference. I don't think we have anything else on the agenda this morning – except for snacks and a nap, I'm sure."
She waved me out of the room. "Go. I'll be in touch."
Crevan was with Johnny outside the autopsy bay.
"Hey, I didn't expect to see you here this morning, Crevan. Are you coming downtown for the press conference too?"
"Thinking about it," he said. "I talked to Mrs. McNamara this morning, Helen. I was just about to tell Johnny about the conversation. Do we have time, or is the word from above approaching too fast for official business?"
Johnny glanced at his watch. "Follow us down there. We'll chat after Weber does his thing. Sound good to you?"
On the way to the press conference, Johnny talked about Forsythe. "Ken remembered the crime scene when David was murdered far better than I did," he said. "David was shot in the back of the head with a forty caliber pistol. They recovered one bullet casing from the scene, no prints. He figured Southerby wore gloves when he ransacked the office because there wasn't a print to be found that didn't belong to David or his coworkers."
"How much time elapsed between finding Ireland's body and the discovery that his office had been searched?"
"Not long, forty-five minutes maybe."
"Did someone report the gunshot?"
"Yeah, it happened right between central and the courthouse, Doc."
"Maybe Southerby tore through the office like a madman because he knew he didn't have much time for a careful search after he killed Ireland."
"I thought the same thing. It struck me a bit odd, Doc."
"Like if the goal was finding something in his office, why not break in and search first? And if the objective was killing Ireland, why bother with the office?"
"I concluded that whatever David knew sealed his fate on earth, but that Datello couldn't risk someone stumbling onto any record he might've left behind."
"We're still making the assumption that Datello hired Southerby," I said. "And as sure as I am that he was associated with Marcos, I won't feel comfortable until David can confirm that data for me."
"Can you hold off on calling Levine until after we hear what Weber has to say and talk to Crevan?"
"Sure," I said. "It's not like Southerby is still a threat. Datello isn't going anywhere either."
"Not until Friday at least."
"Where is he going Friday?"
Johnny glanced at me and grinned. "You didn't think he'd honestly stick around town for our annual bash in one of his banquet halls, did you? Oh no, it's family tradition, at least since he met and married his wife, to pack up the entire clan and jet off to Hawaii for two weeks. He'll be back after New Year's."
"Provided we don't have a warrant for his arrest before then."
"I love your optimism, Doc. We'll have a little breathing room once he leaves town. At least we won't have to be quite so covert about what we're doing."
"Have you thought about my suggestion this morning?" When we stopped by to visit Journey and Devlin, the visit was cut short by Journey's fear of her impending hospital discharge. "I've got plenty of space for her, Johnny."
"I don't know how I feel about having someone with a bull's-eye on her back living under the same roof as a woman who also seems to have a target between her eyes. You do realize that Lowe tried to have you killed twice, and Kim Jackson almost got the job done."
"I haven't forgotten, Johnny. That doesn't mean my house isn't completely secure now. Nor does it erase the fact that I've got a cop living under my roof, albeit on calorie counting patrol. If you're that worried about it, station plainclothes officers at the house. The more the merrier."
His eyes twinkled when he glanced at me. "Calorie cop?"
It was the equivalent of an accord, and I realized how such rational discussions made Johnny happier than anything I'd seen from him since before I was shot.
He pulled int
o the parking garage between central and the courthouse, the same one where David Ireland died, and probably a multitude of other crimes during the tenure of Jerry Lowe and the influence we suspected that Danny Datello wielded.
The crowd gathered at the front steps of Central Division included more than members of the press. I clutched Johnny's arm. "This can't have been what Donald had in mind when he called for a press conference," I spoke low.
Johnny's head jerked to the left back of the crowd. My eyes followed.
"Well, isn't that interesting? He's looking well."
Datello glanced in our direction. His eyes made a slow perusal before a grin spread across his face. He mocked us with a salute.
"That son of a –"
"Helen, easy," one arm curled around my back to restrain the lunge Johnny felt coming.
I watched Datello measure the gesture, determine it meant something else altogether. His face hardened to stone. Suddenly his interest at the impromptu announcement shifted from whatever Don had to say to what Orion and I were doing.
"Play along," I murmured.
"What?"
I pressed close to Johnny's body and let the fingers of my right hand trail down his chest. "He never knew about us, did he?"
Johnny's chest expanded and froze. "What're you do–?"
"Kiss me. Something chaste."
"Helen..."
"It's eating him up. Do it."
"He's not the only one that finds this interesting. This isn't the best idea you've ever had, sweetheart. In front of the entire Darkwater Bay press corps, it's asking for scrutiny you really don't want right now."
I wound around the front of him and stood on tiptoe. The nibble at his chin elicited a deep groan. "Is he still watching?"
"I'm surprised you don't feel the daggers in your back. Pissing this man off is not a good idea, Doc. I sure hope you know what you're doing."
"Everybody knows I'm out of commission," I said quietly. "Now he thinks you're so distracted that maybe you're not paying attention to him either."
"Or, he has us on his radar for reasons you really don't want to think about, Helen. He looks angry enough to come over here and assault you."
"I'm sure," I laid my head against his chest and murmured. "It's the ultimate betrayal, taking up with someone like you and dishonoring his dear cousin's memory like this. I hope he chokes on it."
Johnny discreetly set me away from him. "I'm more curious about why he's here. In light of our recent discussions, don't you find it interesting that he's hell bent on hearing what Don has to say with his own ears?"
"The foundation to his little kingdom started to crumble when Lowe was arrested. Now the walls are falling down. It's a great day in Darkwater Bay, Johnny."
"I'll reserve my judgment on that until I hear what it is Don has to say this morning. And don't say I didn't warn you. You've drawn more attention than Danny's with that little stunt you pulled Helen. Have you met Belle Conall yet?"
"Crevan's wife?"
"Soon to be ex, and she's headed this way. Brace yourself."
A small tape recorder thrust up under my nose from a woman in a deep pink power suit. Her blonde hair was doused heavily with hair spray that rendered it impervious to the effects of Darkwater's ever-present fog.
"Dr. Eriksson, Belle Conall from the Sentinel. Are you back on active duty now?"
"No comment."
"Do you have any idea what Chief Weber plans to announce this morning?"
Johnny intervened. "If she knew, she wouldn't be here like the rest of you."
"Hello, Johnny. You haven't returned any of my calls this week."
"I've been busy." His thin smile conveyed annoyance. "You'd better get back down front with your colleagues. I see Weber inside the lobby now."
"That is Crevan's wife?"
"Ex, and he looks like he's about to have a stroke, Doc. Keep your judgments to yourself. He's pretty raw over this divorce."
"Why?" I muttered. "He should be counting his blessings to be rid of her."
"Terrible," he chuckled. "Behave."
"Was that Belle I saw talking to you?" Crevan skipped the greeting and scanned the crowd for a glimpse of his ex-wife.
"In the flesh," I said. "She's..."
"A pain in the ass," Crevan muttered. "Sorry if she blindsided you with questions, Helen. What time is this thing starting? We really need to talk about what Mrs. You-Know-Who had to say this morning."
"Don's on his way out now," Johnny nodded toward the dais set up at the top of the marble stairs to Central Division. "Listen."
Don Weber stepped up to the podium where a bouquet of microphones waited to record his words. I found myself holding my breath, wondering what he would say, how much of the truth he would announce to the world.
"Good morning. I want to thank all of you for coming on such short notice this morning," he began. "As many of you know, Commissioner Hardy and I have been partners in law enforcement here in Darkwater Bay for a good many years. Within the past several months, we have quietly been working to improve conditions for our officers and detectives, hiring additional personnel and recruiting some of the finest police professionals in the state and beyond."
His eyes met mine and he gave a silent nod of acknowledgment.
"With that trend in mind, it should come as no great surprise to anyone that our search expanded to a couple of additional positions as well. Effective January first, Darkwater Bay will welcome a new chief of detectives, a fine officer from Boston whose commitment to law enforcement is admirable. Sheila Juilliard has a twenty-two year history with the Boston police department where she functioned most recently as a deputy superintendent."
"This is it?" Crevan murmured. "He called everyone down here to announce a new bureaucrat?"
"Joe asked Darnell to vet this woman's record," Johnny spoke quietly. "I had no idea that she would be arriving in town so quickly though."
"Is that a problem?" I asked.
"Hush, he's not done."
"There is another change coming in the near future to our police department. A national search is underway to replace me. I will remain in my role as chief of police until such time as a suitable new chief is hired, but saw no reason not to announce my retirement from police service today."
I groaned. "Oh boy."
"Chief, is there any particular reason you've chosen now to resign your post?" one reporter shouted.
"Only one that truly matters," Weber said. "A new era of law enforcement is coming to Darkwater Bay. I've held this post for over fifteen years. It's time to pass the torch on to a new generation, a new team of progressive, determined and ethical men and women who uphold a tradition of incorruptibility and honor befitting those we entrust to keep the public's safety and trust. In that regard, my record is less than unblemished. It was never my intention to leave a legacy that included corruption and the decay that was exposed recently in the arrest of former chief of detectives Jerry Lowe."
His eyes scanned the crowd, and I would've sworn they skidded with surprise back to where Danny Datello stood.
That was when Donald Weber decided to drop the big bombshell on the public.
"My position was compromised some years ago, ladies and gentlemen. A threat to expose certain matters in my personal life was used to exert undue influence over the office of the police chief. My family is aware of that situation at this time, and I suspect that it won't be long before everyone else knows as well."
"Are you insinuating that Jerry Lowe was blackmailing you in addition to his other crimes? Will more charges be filed against him to include extortion?"
"I don't know the identity of the person who leveled the threats against me. I would hope in this century that the men and women of Darkwater Bay have evolved enough not to care about the details of a man's private life. What they should always care about is when those hidden details make that man vulnerable to pressure from outside sources with an agenda that runs contrary to public interest."
>
"What is the nature of this secret chief?" Belle Conall asked.
Weber sucked in a deep breath and uttered, "It's personal." Before more questions could batter him, he turned and quickly returned to the lobby.
"That was weird," Crevan said.
I glanced at Johnny. "I wonder if anyone else is considering stepping aside for similar reasons."
"If he was half the man Don Weber is, he'd have done it first."
The words fell on deaf ears. My focus was drawn to still seething Danny Datello as he jumped into the back of a black Cadillac Escalade that sped away. I couldn't help but wonder. Was he still angry about my little display of affection offered up for his benefit alone, or was it more likely, the realization that his control over the Darkwater Bay police department was rapidly eroding?
Chapter 20
Crevan climbed into the back of my Expedition. After Weber's stunning announcement to the press, it was about the only place we were guaranteed privacy for a little chat.
"What did you learn from Mrs. McNamara?" I jumped back into the case without preamble.
"She doesn't believe to this day that Harry had heart trouble. He ran three miles a day, played golf every chance he got, and apparently enjoyed doubles tennis with his wife every Saturday at Bay View Country Club."
"Where Storm currently munches cocktail onions?" I asked.
"Yes," Crevan said. "But get this. Riley had a sit-down with the widow and explained to her that there is such a thing called a sudden, fatal cardiac arrhythmia that is extremely difficult to treat even if someone is under medical observation at the time it occurs and impossible to diagnose before it happens."
"That's true, but in order to determine that's what happened to Harry, Storm would've had to crack his chest open, and that didn't happen," I said.
"What?" Johnny hissed.
"We didn't get around to discussing my chat with Maya. There was no autopsy performed, Johnny. None. In fact, Maya said he wasn't even properly prepared for burial."
"Right, since I didn't get to talk to her at the morgue, I called on my way over here and told her what Lucille said. She and Harry both had made arrangements for their funerals years in advance of his death. Since Riley finished so quickly, the body was sent to Homestead Funerals and Harry's service was arranged by the end of the day."
