GG02 - Accidentally on Purpose

by Jack Parker

  Shawna tossed a paper napkin at Gracie. "What makes you think he'll listen to you this time?" she asked.

  "Because he's investigating Meaghan's death," Gracie retorted. She flipped open her phone and made the call.

  "But he already said the police mechanics have been all over that car," Cheryl said.

  Gracie held up a finger in the universal sign of 'wait a minute'. "Ken, this is Gracie. Would you ask the mechanics to check the fuses in Meagan Pruitt's car? Tell them to pay particular attention to the ones for the airbag and ABS brake system. Look for fingerprints on the fuse-box, too; if I'm right they'll match the ones on a water bottle in Mrs. Baker's office. Ask if there was sticky residue over the dash-lights for those systems. Oh, and one more thing – can you ask the paramedics if the hood was up when they got there? Let me know ASAP, thanks, bye."

  "Voice-mail," Shawna stated the obvious.

  "That's okay," Gracie insisted. "This way we can figure it all out and if he finds anything then he'll have to listen."

  "Point Number One is that Amy learned about those two things being on separate fuses," Cheryl said.

  "Bobby told her all about them, and showed her how to pull a fuse and replace it," Kelly said.

  "I know you're thinking Amy put some tape over the dash lights so Meaghan wouldn't see them blinking, but what difference does it make if the hood was up when the paramedics got there?" Shawna asked.

  "Because if she pulled the fuses so neither system would work, she probably put 'em back so no one would see anything wrong," Gracie explained. "If she hadn't surely the police mechanics would've seen the fuses were missing."

  "She'd have been smart enough to shut the hood," Kelly pointed out.

  "Oh, right," Gracie said, chagrined.

  "Didn't Meaghan say she remembered the hood flying up during the wreck?" Shawna asked. "The next day when we visited her at the hospital."

  "That's what I was thinking about," Gracie said. "Who knows what you think you see when your car's flying through the air, I bet it'd be really easy to imagine all sorts of things happening. I thought she just imagined it."

  "I've heard some people say a wreck happens in slow-motion," Kelly said. "So maybe the hood did come loose and then fell back down when the car finally came to a stop."

  "Or maybe poor Meaghan was knocked unconscious, woke up briefly while Amy was putting the fuses back, then went back out again," Gracie said.

  "You're saying that Amy popped the hood and replaced the fuses while Meaghan was sitting in the car, bleeding and hurt?" Cheryl asked aghast.

  "That's exactly what I'm saying," Gracie said firmly.

  "Gracie, Amy would have to open the car door to get to the hood release," Kelly cautioned. "How'd she do that?"

  "She needed a key!" Shawna said. "That's why you found those calls to the Miata dealer and locksmiths."

  "And each and every one of 'em told her she'd need to bring the old key in for them to make a duplicate," Kelly said. "You can't just give 'em the VIN number, and if she'd somehow swiped a key to make a wax impression then she wouldn't need a duplicate."

  "But she did have a key," Gracie said.

  "How'd she get one?" Cheryl asked.

  "I haven't worked that out quite yet," Gracie admitted. "But I know what happened to it."

  "You do?" Kelly asked.

  Gracie smiled. "Sure! Amy offered to guard Mrs. Pruitt's purse that night at the hospital. I remember teasing her about carrying three purses to the ladies' room – her own, Meaghan's, and Mrs. Pruitt's. While she was in there she slipped the stolen key back on Mrs. Pruitt's key ring; that's why she thought she'd lost the key."

  "So that was what Mrs. Pruitt was rambling about the night we took the card to her," Cheryl remarked.

  "Amy must've been to Meaghan's house and taken the key at some point," Kelly said. "After she'd learned she couldn't get a dupe."

  "So, do you think she meant it as just another accident?" Shawna asked, a little afraid to hear the answer.

  "I'm not sure yet," Gracie said. "But it ties in perfectly with that website on ABS brakes. It was raining that night so the road would be slippery. If she ran into the car and Meaghan hit the brakes it was more likely to slide."

  "I hate to say this, but if Amy just wanted Meaghan to get knocked around then I doubt she'd have disabled the airbag," Cheryl said.

  "Okay, I know I'm always asking this question, but why?" Shawna asked plaintively. "Why would Amy want to kill Meaghan?"

  The four of them sat there staring at each other. This was the $64,000 question, the answer to which would go a long way toward proving or disproving their theory. Not one of them had a clue. They sat there eating the last bites of their ice cream and staring at the trees trying to think what Amy's motive might be.

  After several minutes Shawna spoke up. "We've concentrated first on Jake and then on Amy – but what if it's someone else?"

  "Maybe one of Jake's teammates," Cheryl proposed. "Maybe they're tired of him getting all the glory, or he's not nearly so nice to 'em out on the field or something."

  "Jake could've taken the girls away from them," Shawna suggested.

  "They might have the knowledge and supplies to set up the accidents, being guys and all," Cheryl added.

  "They could all really be accidents," Kelly said. "Even the two deaths; Maggie was drunk and fell, and Meaghan's airbag fuse was old and on the fritz. We don't know that the brakes weren't working properly."

  Shawna sighed deeply. "Just like we don't know there was anything but water in that bottle."

  "And it's Friday afternoon," Cheryl said. "I bet Ken won't check Meaghan's car until Monday morning. So we've got until then to figure out what possible motive Amy might have, because otherwise Ken's not gonna listen to us even if he does find a problem with the fuses."

  "Gracie's got that thoughtful look on her face," Kelly commented. "Does that mean you've got it all figured out?"

  "Not quite yet," she replied. "I need to call my step-mother."

  "None of the football players could've moved that stupid rock; they were all at practice. I think Cheryl's right and the kid did it to himself," Shawna said.

  Cheryl raised an eyebrow at that. "Even if it was Amy in the boutique that day, what's it got to do with Meaghan's murder?"

  "I'll tell you when I know if it was her," Gracie said. "But I think I know the significance of that lost earring."

  CHAPTER 26

  Ken replayed the voice mail message and scribbled down the requests. He closed the cell phone and dropped it on his desk with a sigh. As if I don't have enough other things on my mind, he thought. He squirmed to get more comfortable in the hard wooden chair, continuing to stare at Gracie's requests and tapping his pencil against the pad as he thought.

  The kid was playing this hand close to the vest. Not that he could really blame her; she'd had a bee in her bonnet over those stupid accidents at school until he'd become dismissive of anything she said. But this was different, this concerned a fatal car wreck that was his business. Gracie was smart, too, he knew that; this would be worth checking out. Even if it came to nothing it wouldn't take very long.

  Ken grabbed his fingerprint kit, stood up and walked out of the office calling out to another detective that he was going to the police garage. By the time he got there it was nearly 5:00 and the guys were cleaning up and getting ready to go home for the weekend.

  "Afternoon, Lieutenant," Mark said. His tone said he wasn't thrilled to see one of the suits this late on a Friday afternoon.

  "Hi, Mark, how's it going?" Ken asked.

  Mark pointedly looked at the large clock on one wall. "Not nearly fast enough," he replied laconically.

  Ken chuckled, a short, sharp sound. "Take it easy, Mark. I won't keep you past quitting time. All I want is a quick look at that blue Miata over there." He pointed to the crumpled car outside in the fenced yard.

  "Sure thing, keys are in it," Mark replied. He picked up a screwdriver and began wiping it d
own with a rag.

  "I need your expertise on this one, Mark," Ken said. "Need to look at the fuse box."

  Mark laid the screwdriver in the open tray of his toolbox; the row of screwdrivers was organized by size and he carefully added it in the right spot. He cast his eye over the array of dirty tools waiting on the bench but wiped his hands and walked across the room to the door.

  Ken followed. "I don't suppose you took prints from the hood," he said.

  "Didn't think it was necessary," Mark replied. "When it got here it was just a wreck; that kid didn't die until a few days later."

  "I'm not blaming you," Ken hastened to say. "Just trying to figure out what might've been compromised. You guys did open the hood when you were checking for mechanical reasons for the cause of the wreck, right?"

  "Sure, but what…oh, I get it! If somebody tampered with the fuses they'd have to pull the hood release and then open the hood and shut it again," Mark said. "Sorry, Lieutenant, any prints they might've left are probably smeared." He opened the driver's side door and peered in. "Want me to go ahead and pop the hood?"

  "Sure," Ken said. "But don't touch the fuse box. I want to check something in here first."

  Ken ran his finger over the surface of the instrument panel. Sure enough, there was something sticky there. Mark had propped the hood open and was waiting at the front of the car. "Hey, Mark. What's under this spot on the panel here?" He tried to move enough for the mechanic to see and ended up sitting down in the seat.

  "One of the warning lights, I think," Mark replied. "I can look it up in the manual if you'll give me a minute."

  Ken motioned for him to move out of the way so he could exit the car. "Depends on what we find under the hood."

  They both moved to the front of the little sports car. "Fuse box is over there." Mark pointed to the passenger side of the engine compartment and moved around the car to better reach it.

  "Hang on a sec!" Ken warned. He peered at the box, noting that there was a small scrape in the accumulated gunk just below the lid. It could easily have been made when someone opened the lid, scratching a nail against the box to feel for the lip of the lid. It was relatively clean so it must be fairly recent. He pulled a camera from his pocket and tried to find a good angle.

  "I did open that fuse box, just to make sure they were all there," Mark told him. "So if you're thinking that scrape mark is evidence I could've made it."

  Ken took a couple of pictures anyway. "It's been long enough that whoever opened this lid would've washed their hands by now, but it's just possible that if the suspect made that mark we might find traces of the grease on their clothes." Just in case he took a sample.

  Mark nodded. "I feel bad I can't tell you if I did that," he said. "You want me to open it up now?"

  "Don't worry about it; I'm playing a hunch anyway. Gimme a minute, first I want to check for prints on the box," Ken told the mechanic. He set up his kit and proceeded to do so. With all the dust and grease in the engine compartment it was hard to see if there were any viable prints but he could look at that later. The police mechanics' prints were all on file for situations just like this; they could easily be eliminated. And he had Jake's 10-card just in case he'd had his paws on the box. He still didn't know who Gracie suspected.

  "Okay, open 'er up," Ken said.

  Mark pried the lid off and peered at the fuses. "Like I said, they're all there."

  "Pull the fuses for the airbag and ABS brake systems, please," Ken requested. "Oh, and try not to touch them if you can help it."

  Mark reached for the fuse-puller and stopped. "Let me go get another one, in case there're prints on this one."

  "Thanks, I hadn't thought of that," Ken said.

  Mark disappeared into the shop and came out a couple of minutes later with the fuse-puller and several plastic evidence bags. He used the plastic tweezers to pick up the Miata's puller and dropped it into a bag which Ken took. Next he consulted the schematic on the lid and pulled a fuse out of the array.

  "This's the airbag fuse," he said. He held it up, twisting it with the puller to get a better look. "Yep. 10 amps."

  Ken held a bag open and Mark dropped the fuse in. Ken was busy labeling the bag while Mark pulled the next fuse.

  "Something's wrong here," Mark said.

  Ken looked up in surprise. "What?" he asked shortly.

  Mark waved the fuse for emphasis. "This was in the spot for the brakes. It should be 30 amps, but it's another 10-amper. See? They're color-coded so you can tell 'em apart. These two are the same color."

  Ken looked at both of the tiny squares; they looked exactly alike. "Would the ABS system work with the wrong fuse in place?"

  "No, it wouldn't; especially under the rainy conditions the night this wreck happened," Mark confirmed. He picked up the lid and looked at the bottom side. "There's a fuse missing from the extras, too. Your suspect could've deliberately put in the wrong amperage and when that poor kid hit the brakes hard on the slick road all the car would do is slide."

  Ken stood thinking for a minute. "Let me ask you this, Mark. If the airbag fuse was missing would that keep it from inflating?"

  "You betcha!" Mark said. "What are you getting at, Lieutenant?"

  "I think the suspect pulled both fuses. He or she knew the roads would be slick from all the rain and the combination of not having anti-lock brakes or an airbag would make it fairly likely that a wreck would not only happen, but be pretty serious."

  Mark nodded sagely. "Then they put the fuses back, but dropped one in the dark. They didn't know about the color-coding - or couldn't see the color - and grabbed an extra from the lid and got the wrong one. Pretty clever, Lieutenant!"

  "She said what?" Ken asked in surprise.

  "Mr. Morrison said that Gracie claimed there was an antibiotic in the water, one that Allison was highly allergic to," Mrs. Baker repeated herself.

  "And that Amy had deliberately switched bottles with Allison," Ken re-stated the rest of the scenario. "But why did the teacher bother to give the bottles to you, why didn't he just throw them away?"

  Unbeknownst to Ken Mrs. Baker glanced at the clock. She'd been just about to leave when the lieutenant had called and was eager to get home. "One of the bottles, the one that supposedly belonged to Allison, contained what appears to be Vodka."

  Ken's eyes widened. "The kid was drinking in school? Never mind, I guess I shouldn't be shocked to hear something like that." Now that he thought about it he remembered that Allison was the redhead who'd been drinking Vodka at the teacher's party. Though the dodge was easy enough, it still surprised him that she'd bring alcohol to school.

  "Unfortunately you shouldn't," she said with a slight chuckle.

  "Another one of Gracie's 'accidents'," he mumbled. Except that it couldn't have been an accident; no one would mix an antibiotic into water, they'd just swallow the pill. Well, wait a minute, don't let Gracie's ideas make you jump to conclusions. Some people had trouble swallowing pills and a teenager might dump the little balls into water to make it easier. It'd be easy enough to pick up the wrong bottle by mistake.

  "What's that?" the principal asked.

  "Ah, nothing," Ken replied.

  "Lieutenant Freeman, I was just about to go home for the day. I could bring these bottles to you if you'd like, it's not far out of my way."

  "Thanks, that would be great," he said. The chain of custody was already somewhat compromised, but having the principal bring them to him would save time and wouldn't muddy the waters further as she was the one in current possession.

  It was nearly 6:00 PM on Friday evening and Ken still sat at his desk, willing the phone to ring. He jumped when it did.

  "Freeman," he barked.

  "Got the results for you, Lieutenant." It was Carole, the chemical analysis lab tech. "The bottle labeled 'Allison' is Vodka all right; I can get the brand if you want."

  "No, no, that's all right," Ken told her. "And the other one?"

  "Erythromycin mixed with water
," she said succinctly. "A pretty high concentration, too."

  "Are some people allergic to that?" he asked.

  "Sure. They suffer an anaphylactic reaction, their throat swells and they can't breathe. It can be fatal if not treated in time," Carole said pedantically. "Vodka just makes you drunk." There was a hint of laughter in her voice at the too-obvious statement.

  "Right, thanks." He hung up and immediately picked the receiver back up and began punching buttons. Gracie just might be onto something but he needed a few more pieces of the puzzle before he'd be ready to admit it to himself, much less to her. If she was right that someone was trying to hurt lots of high-school girls and had murdered Meaghan then that someone needed to be arrested before they could hurt anyone else.

  "Mrs. Davis? This is Lieutenant Ken Freeman of Homicide. I don't want to alarm you, Allison is fine, but I need to know if she's allergic to anything?"

  "Homicide! Are you sure she's okay?" Mrs. Davis asked, worry evident in her voice.

  "As far as I know she's fine. Please answer my question, Mrs. Davis."

  "My daughter is allergic to a lot of things: cats, ragweed, all sorts of pollen – but you're asking about the erythromycin, aren't you? She told me about that after school this afternoon."

  I'll bet she didn't mention the Vodka, Ken thought to himself. Out loud he said, "Is she allergic to it?"

  "Yes, Sir, she is," the woman replied. "The doctor prescribed it for her when she was just a little girl, and she had the most awful reaction, she could barely breathe. If there was really erythromycin in that bottle and she'd drunk it she could've died, Lieutenant. That Amy girl should be held accountable!"

  "Thank you, Ma'am," he said. "I assure you that I'm looking into this and I'll be in touch with you when I know more."

  He hung up and sat at the desk waiting and thinking. Obviously Gracie thought her suspect was responsible for giving cyanide to that one girl, what's-her-name, Andrea, as well as the antibiotic to the redhead and tampering with the fuses in Meaghan's car. Offhand he couldn't recall the other mishaps she'd been concerned about; at the time they'd sounded like common mistakes and no one had been hurt badly. It didn't make sense that one person would try to kill three people while merely injuring several others. And except for the school connection he couldn't see that any of this could possibly be related to the teacher's death.