State of Life: A Mystery Thriller Novel (Virgil Jones Book 12)

by Thomas Scott

  When Ross and Rosencrantz turned into the lot and headed for the bleachers, they looked like a couple of dads ready to watch their girls practice on the track. A few minutes later, the bell rang and school let out for the day.

  And twenty minutes after that, once Whittle was on the track with the girls, Virgil called Ryder and told her to go.

  Beth Ryder took the call from Virgil, then walked out of the building and headed for the track at the back of the school. She tried to remain calm, but discovered it wasn’t as easy as she imagined it might be. Yesterday the thought of helping the police seemed exciting and daring. Now it seemed stupid and dangerous. What was she, some sort of undercover agent? No, she was a school secretary, mostly in charge of student attendance. What the hell was I thinking? she asked herself as she crossed the lot.

  She noticed two men she’d never seen before sitting in the bleachers, laughing and having a good time. Were they her protection? The answer to her question came as one of the men pulled out his phone and answered a call. Then both men turned, looked at her, nodded once, and moved all the way down to the first row.

  And that gave Beth Ryder the confidence she needed. She called out to Whittle. “Coach? Coach, could I speak with you for a moment?”

  Whittle turned, an odd look on his face. He blew his whistle and told the girls to start running warm-up laps. Then he walked over to Ryder, and said, “What is it, Beth? You know I don’t like my practices interrupted.”

  “I’m terribly sorry, Coach, but I thought you should know. My husband just called me. He said he did so as a matter of courtesy and respect because we work together, so I’d appreciate it if you kept where the information came from to yourself.”

  Whittle looked at her, and said, “What information?”

  “The sheriff, along with the county medical examiner are both out at the cemetery right now. They have a court order to exhume your father’s remains.”

  Whittle’s face turned pale, then he gave Ryder a look that scared her, one she’d not seen before. “Tell the girls practice is canceled, and that I have a family emergency.” Then, without another word, he ran toward his van.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  As soon as Virgil and Murton saw Ryder headed toward the field, Virgil called Ross, and said, “That’s her. Keep her safe. We’re headed to the cemetery. We want to get there before Whittle does.”

  “We got it covered here, Boss-man. Go.”

  Virgil dropped the car in gear and they drove from the high school over to the cemetery, which was only a few miles away.

  “Better keep your foot on it,” Murton said. “We don’t want him to beat us there.”

  Virgil increased his speed, but he had to be careful as they were in a rental car. Five minutes later they turned in, and Murton pointed over to the left. “There they are.”

  “Looks like they’ve got him up already,” Virgil said. He parked their car next to the coroner’s van, then both men got out and stood next to the sheriff.

  Harper looked at them and said, “Is Whittle on the way? Never mind, here he comes. I hope he loses his cool.”

  “That’s the plan,” Murton said. “If we can lock him up, we’ll be able to get his DNA.”

  Whittle pulled up so fast, for a moment it looked like he was going to plow right through the gravesite. Everyone jumped back, but Whittle managed to get his van stopped just shy of Virgil and Murton’s rental car.

  When he got out of his van his face was red and his hands were balled into fists. He walked right up to Harper, his feet stomping the ground like a child. “What the fuck is going on here? Why are you people digging up my father’s remains?”

  Harper held out his hands, and said, “Take it easy, Don. We’ve got a court order giving us the authority to exhume your father’s body.”

  Whittle was so mad he was vibrating. “Authority? Authority? Whose fucking authority?” Then, before Harper could answer, he turned his wrath on Virgil and Murton. “And why the fuck are you two here? You should be out looking for Jodie Carter.”

  Virgil walked over and got right in Whittle’s face. “That’s exactly what we’re doing, Don. But we’re also capable of doing more than one thing at a time.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Whittle said. “What does my father have to do with Jodie Carter’s abduction?”

  Virgil gave Whittle an evil grin. “Probably nothing. In fact, I’m all but sure of it since he’s been dead for a number of months.”

  “Then why are you digging him up?”

  “Because we have reason to believe that his death may not have been from natural causes. In case that’s a little foggy for you, try this instead: We believe your father was murdered.”

  Whittle’s jaw quivered as he spoke. “Murdered? You’re out of your mind. He was old and sick. Who put you on to this?”

  Murton let out a little chuckle. “Well, it sure wasn’t your sister, Karen. She’s out in Vegas right now. Isn’t that what you told us?”

  Whittle was starting to get confused. “Uh, yeah, she’s staying at the Bellagio.”

  “Except she isn’t, Don,” Virgil said. “We checked. As a point of fact, she isn’t anywhere near Vegas. And by the way, we had a little talk with your brother, Sam. That song and dance you tried to sell to me and my partner? You were lying the entire time.”

  “The fuck I was. Everything I told you was the truth.”

  Murton laughed again. “What about the part where you stuck a gun in his ear and threatened to kill him? I don’t remember you mentioning that when we spoke. I guess you were too busy telling us how much the two of you love each other.”

  Virgil reached out and grabbed Whittle’s arm to get his attention. “Funny way of showing it, Don…pulling a gun on your own brother.”

  “Fuck you,” Whittle said. He jerked his arm free, and when he did, his elbow caught Murton in the center of his chest.

  Murton, who was a decent actor, doubled over in faked pain and dropped to one knee. As soon as that happened, Virgil tackled Whittle to the ground, put him in handcuffs, and said, “That’s assault on a police officer. You’re under arrest.” He read him his rights, then turned him over to the sheriff.

  Harper walked Whittle to his squad car and locked him in the back seat, then rejoined Virgil and Murton. “You realize he’ll probably bond out by this time tomorrow.”

  Murton brushed the dirt from his pant leg, then said, “Doesn’t matter to us, Wes.”

  Virgil nodded. “He’s right, Sheriff. All we needed was to get him out of the way for a few hours. He can bond out tonight, for all we care.” Then, “Better get that judge back on the phone.”

  Harper looked a question at Virgil. “Why?”

  “Because we want to do a little sneak and peek over at Don’s house. Gonna need the judge to sign another ham sandwich.”

  Harper looked at Virgil and Murton, and said, “Is this the way you state boys always operate? Wait, never mind. I’m not sure I want to know. Swing by the station when you’re done with the coroner. I’ll have your warrant waiting.”

  Dick Whittle’s casket was loaded into the coroner’s van, and Virgil and Murton followed it all the way back to the hospital in Paoli. Once they had Whittle inside, Virgil asked the coroner how long the autopsy would take.

  “I can start this afternoon, but if there aren’t any visible signs of trauma—which there probably won’t be, otherwise the funeral home would have said so—I won’t have any chemistry back for a few days.”

  “Quick as you can,” Virgil said. “If there aren’t any visible signs of trauma, what sort of chemistry will you be looking at?”

  The coroner pursed his lips, and said, “Any sort of poisoning. Anti-freeze, arsenic, that sort of thing. It’s a rather comprehensive list. That’s why it takes so long.”

  “Doesn’t the fact that the body has been embalmed create a problem?” Murton said.

  The coroner nodded. “It does make things more difficult. There
can be quite a few false positives. But the good news is this: Since an autopsy wasn’t performed, his organs will still be intact. I’ll be able to get quite a lot of good information from the liver itself.”

  “Tell me more about the arsenic,” Virgil said.

  “That’s always what we look for first in cases like these. The telltale signs remain with the body for years. Hair and fingernail samples will indicate if that was the cause of death.”

  “And that takes how long?” Virgil said.

  “A few days.”

  “Could you get us hair and fingernail samples now? I’d like our crime scene techs to look at them.”

  The coroner slipped out of his lab coat and began putting on scrubs, along with a heavy apron. “Of course. But you might want to wait out in the hall. When I crack this casket, it won’t be pretty.” Then he grabbed a face mask with a respirator and slipped it over his head.

  When Virgil and Murton saw that, they took the coroner’s advice and waited out in the hall.

  While they were waiting, Virgil took out his phone and called Cool. “Where are you?”

  “Sitting at the Blackjack table spending my retirement. What was I thinking?”

  “Well, I’m here to save you.”

  “You mean you’re going to pay me back?” Cool said.

  Virgil laughed. “Hardly. But I am going to get you away from the table. Get to the airport and get the helicopter ready. Murt and I will be there shortly. I’ve got some samples that we need to get back to our lab. Chip or Mimi will be waiting for you up in Indy when you land.”

  “Roger that,” Cool said. “You want me back down here after I drop the samples?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” Virgil said. “Hang tight up there and I’ll let you know.”

  Cool said he would, and Virgil ended the call. Then he got in touch with Mimi and told her what was happening. “I’ll need to know—as quick as possible—if you find anything.”

  Mimi, her voice full of whiskey, said, “I’ll get started as soon as the samples arrive.”

  Virgil smiled into the phone, and said, “Perfect. You’re the best, Meems.”

  “Like I didn’t already know that.”

  The coroner gave Virgil and Murton the samples in a small plastic container, then made them sign about a dozen forms before he let them leave. They drove out to the airport, handed the samples to Cool, then headed back to the sheriff’s office to get their warrant.

  Virgil pulled Harper aside, and said, “Did you get copies of Whittle’s keys?”

  Harper reached into his desk drawer and shook the keys from an envelope. “Right here. Cost me ten bucks down at the hardware. I’ve got a couple of my people going through the van right now, but I have to tell you, it looks cleaner than a gnat’s ass after a thunderstorm.”

  “That’s a new one,” Murton said.

  “You didn’t tell Whittle what we’re doing, did you?”

  Harper gave Virgil a look that didn’t require an answer.

  “Okay, okay,” Virgil said. “Just making sure we’re on the same page. Where is he right now?”

  “Down in lockup, speaking with his lawyer,” Harper said.

  “Is the lawyer any good?” Murton said.

  “Good enough. The first thing he did was shove a piece of paper at me that stated in no uncertain terms would a DNA sample be given. The second thing he did was tell me that he’d have Whittle out within the hour.”

  “Think he will?” Virgil said.

  Harper nodded. “Probably, since the same judge who signed your ham sandwich will hear Whittle’s motion to dismiss. I’d get a move on, I were you.”

  “Call me when he’s out,” Virgil said. Then he and Murton ran out the door.

  Virgil and Murton made it to Whittle’s house as fast as they could. They parked in the driveway, then went to the back of the house. It took Virgil three tries before he found the right key, but once he did, they were in. “Remember, we’re looking for anything regarding the missing girls, photos, or—”

  “Jonesy?” Murton said.

  “Yeah?”

  Murton snapped on a pair of latex gloves, and said, “I’ve done this before. I’ll take the bedroom. You can have the office if he has one.”

  He did. The house was small, with only two bedrooms and a single bathroom. The office was located in the second bedroom. Virgil began quickly rifling through the files stored in a desk drawer, while Murton took the master bedroom. They spent over an hour going through the entire house, but in the end, they didn’t find one single piece of evidence that would implicate Whittle in any of the girls’ abductions. Nor did they find any sort of poison, liquid or otherwise.

  “I think it’s a bust,” Murton said.

  Virgil was about to agree when his phone buzzed at him. He looked at Murton, and said, “Harper.” When he answered, the sheriff said, “If you’re still inside, it’s time to go. I’d say you’ve got five minutes, tops.”

  Virgil said, “Thanks, Wes,” then hung up. He looked at Murton, and said, “Time to roll out.”

  “Give me thirty seconds,” Murton said. He ran down the hall to the bathroom, took a plastic bag out of his pocket, grabbed Whittle’s hairbrush and pulled as many hairs free as possible before stuffing them inside the bag. Then he headed for the back door, where Virgil was waiting.

  “What’d you get?”

  “DNA samples. If they match the shoe from Mason’s case, we’ve got him.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Virgil and Murton got out of Whittle’s house, locked the back door, then quickly drove over to the rental house down the street. They turned into the driveway just as Whittle was getting out of his van.

  It was that close.

  Whittle got out of the van and just happened to glance down the street at the rental. The front door was closing as he watched, but there was no mistaking the rental car in the driveway. It was the same one at the cemetery. The same one the state cops were driving. He looked away in case they were watching him at that very moment, then went inside his own house.

  He went to the fridge and grabbed a beer, then sat down on his living room sofa, which gave him a decent view of the rental. He was watching the watchers when he noticed something odd. Everything seemed a little off somehow. Like all of his things had been moved, then put back in their original place. The chair was slightly askew, the curtains were open a tad more than they had been. He went into the kitchen and noticed a cupboard not quite closed all the way. When he checked his office, some of his personal files seemed to be out of order, and the clothing in his closet wasn’t hanging the way it usually did.

  They’d been in his house, Don was sure of it. Had they placed listening devices? He’d have to check. He looked under every lamp, behind every picture, under all the tables and chairs, but he didn’t find anything. Maybe I’m being paranoid, he thought. But why search my house? There’d be nothing to find. He’d made sure of that long ago.

  Now what? Don thought. If they were closing in on him, it was either take the money and run or find a way to distract the cops and get them focused on something else. He had to think…

  Virgil and Murton dashed into the rental, but they knew Whittle probably saw them. “We should have just kept going,” Murton said. “There are already two cars in the garage, and now we’ve got one in the driveway. We might as well put up a flashing sign that says Surveillance Team Inside.”

  Virgil shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal. In fact, if he did notice us or the car, I think it works to our advantage.”

  “How’s that?” Ross asked. He and Rosencrantz had returned to the rental after Whittle left the school.

  “Simple,” Virgil said. “If he knows he’s being watched, it increases the pressure. Murt and I left just enough clues at his house to let him know we’d been through.”

  “If he’s smart enough to notice,” Rosencrantz said.

  “I think he is,” Virgil said. “If he’s been getting away wit
h taking all these girls, he’s no dummy.”

  Ross was skeptical. “Except now that he knows we’re watching him, what if all he does is stay loose, and go about his routine? Then we won’t have anything.”

  “Yeah, we will,” Virgil said. “Cool is taking samples up to the MCU lab right now from Dick Whittle’s body. If we can prove that he was poisoned, and if Sam Whittle’s story holds up, at the very least, we’ll have him on that.”

  “And if it turns out he died of natural causes?” Rosencrantz said.

  Murton grinned. “I almost hope he did because we’ve got hair samples out of Don’s house we can compare with the DNA that Chip found on Mary Adams’s shoe. If those match up, he’ll either be put away for life or get the needle.”

  Virgil shook his head, and Murton caught it. “What?”

  “I wasn’t thinking. I should have had Cool wait. He could have taken both samples back to our lab.”

  “Want me to run them up?” Ross said. “It’s not that far. I could be back by tonight.”

  “No, I’ll do it,” Virgil said. “It was my mistake, so I’ll make the run.” He looked at both Ross and Rosencrantz, and said, “Besides, Whittle still hasn’t seen your faces, and I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible. That means you two are going to be here for a while.”

  “Works for me,” Rosencrantz said. “The resort is too noisy anyway.”

  Virgil turned to Murton and said, “After I leave, take one of the rental cars and go get some food for Ross and Rosencrantz. After that, head back to the resort, and I’ll meet up with you there tomorrow morning.”

  “You’re not coming back tonight?”

  “I doubt it. I’ll want to see what Chip and Mimi come up with regarding the DNA.”