Sure enough, a minute or so later, the girl rejoined the game, seemingly unhurt. Drumm had enjoyed many a game of dodgeball in his time as a teacher. It was a good game to play when you were too lazy or tired to teach a lesson, or the kids needed to blow off some steam, or if you had some unexpected gym time to fill. This was the sixth grade, and Drumm figured that the teacher was allowing his class to use up some excess energy, especially the boys. Almost every student loved dodgeball but the boys got into it especially. What young man wouldn’t love to hit the girls or his friends with a missile? Mr. Stevens was using the simplest version of the game. Two teams, if you’re hit, go sit on the bench, last kid standing, his team wins. There were many different versions, of course: ways to escape the bench, or jail, as many teachers called it, more than one ball, shields to hide behind. This was the simple game: fun and good exercise, no thinking involved.
Drumm and Wesson had been interviewing the rest of the staff at Elmdale. Bruce Stevens had been first up that morning. As much as anyone could say at this stage of the investigation, Stevens was not a suspect. He was an older man, and quite clearly gay. Perhaps it wasn’t obvious to the students but Wesson and Drumm had no difficulty telling. Not that a gay man couldn’t have killed Sarah Noonan, but he wasn’t the type. He hadn’t been interested in her at all, barely knew her, in fact, and this had been confirmed by numerous other staff. In fact, none of the teachers and educational assistants they had talked to this morning was of interest to them in the murder investigation, including the other males on staff. They either didn’t know the victim well at all or had airtight alibis.
Aside from eliminating possible suspects, the morning had been a complete waste of time. But that’s what a murder investigation was: plenty of time spent fruitlessly questioning people, chasing down dead-ends, trying to catch a break. This case was no different. Why was Sarah Noonan killed? Where was she killed? What was she killed with? They didn’t know any of these things for sure and Drumm was getting a little frustrated with their lack of progress. He had gone home the night before and brooded. After calling Emily and setting up a lunch date for the next day, he and Will had taken a long walk, while he thought about all the suspects in the case. Emily kept coming to mind, so that he was alternating between Donald Musjari’s sullen face and memories of lunch with Emily. Frustrating, and he knew that he was at that stage of the investigation where he needed something to happen if they were going to move forward.
At times like this, the stress often caused his blood sugar to fluctuate wildly. Experience had taught him to be careful with what he ate, to monitor his blood sugar several times a day and take his opportunities to relax and decompress during his work day. Just now he had snuck into the men’s bathroom and used his meter; his reading was 7.3, which was at the warning level, so he would have to be careful. And watching the grade sixes fool around was a pleasant break from his interviewing chores. Drumm glanced at his watch and he knew it was time to get a move on.
Interviewing employees of a nightclub in the morning was like trying to find a taxi in the rain, Lori Singh thought. What were the chances of even finding the places open? She wasn’t sure why Drumm had given her this job this morning. Surely it made more sense for her to do it in the afternoon or evening. So once again she had been given the assignment that was least likely to produce results. Still, she had given it her best effort, attempting to find out if anyone recognized Sarah Noonan and tell her anything at all about the victim. Surprisingly, she had found two of the five businesses open, but with only a bare minimum of staff.
Unfortunately she had been unable to learn anything of importance. At one club, no one had recognized Sarah’s photo. At the other, the manager thought the victim looked familiar but was unable to say more than that. Lori was going to have to go back to both of these places in the evening, as well as the other three, in hopes that someone could tell them something of interest. Had Sarah met someone at one of these places and picked him up? There were more questions than answers at this point.
Lori sat in her Prius, enjoying a cup of tea. The car was a gift to herself, an extravagance she felt she deserved. Driving it made her feel like she was doing her part for the environment. It didn’t hurt that she saved so much on gasoline either. On her salary it was really more than she could afford but it gave her a lot of pleasure, and that was the point of money, wasn’t it? Her phone warbled, the tone indicating it was Drumm.
“Lori? How’s it going?”
“Not so good. Most of the places weren’t open, those that were, knew almost nothing. I’m going to have to go back.”
“OK, about what we expected, then. I’ll need you to come back to the office. The lab results have come in.”
“About time! Anything significant?”
“You could say that. She had GHB in her system.” Drumm sounded almost happy.
“GHB? The date rape drug?”
“The very one. Get here as soon as you can.”
“I’m on my way.” Lori ended the call, drained her tea and headed towards the office.
“GHB, as you probably know, stands for Gamma-Hydroxybutyric acid. Also known as 4-hydroxybutanoic acid.” Drumm read from the lab report. He looked up at Singh and Wesson. He grinned. “No wonder people shorten it to GHB. That’s quite a mouthful. Sarah Noonan had it in her urine. Which is significant in all sorts of ways. She could have taken it herself as a stimulant. As you likely know, it’s thought to be an aphrodisiac and is often used at a club to ‘enhance the experience’. That’s if it’s taken in small doses.”
Lori Singh said, “A roofie.”
“Yup. And often slipped into a woman’s drink, so that she passes out and gets raped for her troubles. Or roofied, as you so eminently put it. In larger quantities and when mixed with alcohol, GHB acts like a sedative and has motor-impairing and amnesiac qualities.” Drumm was reading again. “With the amount detected in our victim’s urine, it seems likely that she was given the drug without her knowledge.”
“Motor-impairing and amnesiac qualities?” Lori said. “It’s just a fancy way of saying a woman would black out and not remember anything. ” Lori frowned, focusing on what Drumm was telling them, and trying to overlook that she had spoken “eminently” and not “eloquently.” Following Drumm’s explanations was difficult sometimes.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And they usually don’t taste it in their drink,” said Wesson.
“No, often not. It does have a salty flavour but it’s usually undetectable when dissolved in a soft drink or liquor or beer. It’s invisible when it’s in water and is odourless. As you know. So the victim is unaware that her drink has been spiked.” Drumm put the report down and looked at the other two detectives. “The other significant thing is that it is difficult to detect GHB in urine after even a day, so the fact that the lab found it indicates that she ingested it late Friday evening or early Saturday, and was killed shortly afterwards. Which is consistent with the timeline we already had.”
Karl said, “So she was given GHB in her apartment Friday evening. That seems most likely, doesn’t it? We haven’t been able to find any indication that she went out Friday night. So someone came to her place and they had a drink; hers was spiked, she passed out and was then raped.”
Lori objected, “But there was no indication of sexual assault, the Coroner said.”
“Just that there was no indication of violence, Lori, remember. She could have had sex, had a shower and washed, or the killer could have cleaned her up.” Drumm sat back, thinking. “She had white wine in her stomach and we found a wineglass in the drying rack in her kitchen. So maybe she and her killer each had a glass of wine, he slipped the GHB into her glass and she passed out. He raped her, cleaned her up and he took the bottle with him when he left.”
Wesson asked, “But why kill her then?”
“Yes, why go to the trouble of drugging her if you planned to kill her anyway?” Lori asked. “I mean, why not just rape her
and strangle her?”
Drumm shrugged. “Maybe it was the noise factor. He was afraid she’d cry out, so he drugged her to keep her quiet and killed her afterwards.” He paused for a moment. “But I think there’s another possibility. What if he drugged her, intending to rape her but he got the amount wrong? Maybe she woke up and recognized him. He killed her in a panic.”
“Is that likely, though?” Wesson asked. “The drug acts like an amnesiac, remember. She wouldn’t recall anything anyway.”
“Ah, but the lab report also said that the effects of GHB vary from individual to individual. The killer might not have known that, or that it’s difficult to get the dose right. Quite a few people die from the combination of GHB and alcohol – an overdose, that would be. Too much and she dies; too little and the drug would wear off sooner than expected.”
“That would fit,” said Lori. “So maybe the killer strangled her before he had the chance to rape her. That would account for the lack of any evidence of sexual activity.”
“And then he washed the glasses and took the bottle with him,” said Karl. “It makes sense, except why take the bottle?”
“That we don’t know,” said Drumm. “Hard to think of a reason why he’d take the bottle. Maybe it was a special wine? Who knows? Maybe he just took it in a panic.” He picked up the lab report again. “This report also indicates that she hadn’t had all that much to drink – an amount consistent with one glass of wine. She had tuna casserole for dinner and vegetable soup.”
“Dressed the way she was, it looks like she was planning an evening out,” said Lori. “She had some wine and some dinner and then she was maybe going to go out clubbing. But someone showed up, had a drink with her and killed her.”
“And he didn’t phone first,” added Karl. “The records didn’t show any calls that evening. So it looks like he just showed up unannounced and she let him in. Which means that she likely knew and trusted him. Especially since she apparently had a glass of wine with him.”
“In that case, we can rule out Greg Parent and Pierre Pepin, can’t we?” said Lori. “She wouldn’t let those two in, that’s for sure.”
Drumm shook his head. “Not necessarily. She might have let the custodian in, if he had a plausible reason for being there. It’s not likely, though; I certainly can’t think of a good reason for him to visit. And Parent could have forced his way in, if she opened the door a crack, for example, to see who it was. As I remember, there was no peephole in the apartment door. And he could have poured himself a glass of wine afterwards.”
Lori asked, “But how would he have got drugged wine into her then?” She waited but there was no response. “Well, let’s leave that for now. Are we assuming then that she was killed in the apartment?”
Drumm looked at her, then at Wesson. “For now I think we should, yes. We have no evidence to indicate otherwise. We have no witnesses to her going out, no video cameras at the property to show us anything at all, and her car was undisturbed in the parking lot. We have absolutely no evidence that she was killed anywhere else. All the signs point to her dying in her own apartment.”
“And she was buried in Hillsdale Park to try to cover up the crime, and make it look like she had gone missing,” said Karl. “If the body hadn’t been found, she might just have been treated like a missing person. It could have been many months before anyone suspected different.”
Lori was dubious. “But then why bury her so shallow? She was bound to be discovered.”
Drumm answered. “Maybe the killer lost his nerve, or it was taking too long, or maybe he panicked, or heard a noise. It was pitch dark, and there were probably strange sounds around him; he would have wanted to get out of there fast. Yes, I think we have a pretty good scenario now. She was killed in her apartment and dumped in the park.”
Wesson asked, “Was there anything else in the lab report?”
Drumm nodded. “The lab found small fibers in the neck wound – they’re silk. They are of the opinion that she was strangled with a silk stocking or scarf.” He looked at them. “There were three pairs of black silk stockings in her underwear drawer. Or rather, there were two complete pairs and one single stocking – its mate was missing.”
Karl said, “So we probably have our murder weapon.” At Drumm’s nod, Karl said, “Anything else, Nick?”
“Yes, the can under the body had been there a long time; it was all rusted with no prints on it. Odds are it had been thrown there years ago. The other junk found along the path was just that: trash that had been discarded by park patrons. The rope that was found – it’s about four feet long – is that yellow cord that can be bought in any hardware store. The red piece of plastic likely broke off something, like a kid’s wagon maybe or a cheap skateboard or scooter. There is no way of identifying it further than that.” Drumm looked at them. “All the garbage items like the cans and bottles and straws were dusted for prints and the lab has identified numerous different ones. They weren’t Sarah’s or Terry Noonan’s prints, that was all they could say for sure. There were fourteen different prints obtained, most likely from totally innocent people who committed the crime of littering.”
Lori stretched and yawned, then apologized. “Sorry, late night. We’re a lot further ahead now than we were. Staff Inspector Chappell should be pleased.”
Wesson shook his head and said, “I doubt very much Chappell will be happy until we make an arrest.”
Drumm grinned and said, “You’re right. But the GHB is significant. Even Chappell will agree with that.” He stood up. “Right. Karl, go and visit Musjari again. See if you can rattle his cage about the gym and shake something else loose from him. Don’t mention the drug yet, just try to upset him enough that he gives us something else.” Karl nodded. “Lori and I will have another go at Sarah’s apartment.”
twelve
Drumm had called Emily the night before and arranged to meet her again for lunch at a small Thai restaurant near the station. Several times throughout the morning he had been tempted to cancel the lunch date, especially after the lab results had come in. He was so busy! And there were so many things to think about and do. But in the end, he had decided to go ahead and meet Emily as planned. He was determined to make this relationship work, and if it didn’t, that it wouldn’t be his doing. A police detective with the Violent Crimes Unit was apt to be called at any time, and he knew that Emily was aware of this. But still, knowing it and accepting it were two different things. It wouldn’t do to cancel a date at this still fragile stage of their new understanding. Things were going too well.
So he had arranged to meet Lori Singh at Sarah Noonan’s apartment in an hour and then snuck off like a guilty lover, making a weak excuse to the other detective. She likely didn’t care at all, anyway, probably glad of the opportunity to get away from him and have lunch by herself.
Emily was waiting for him at the bar, dressed in a flowery skirt and plain white blouse, demurely buttoned up. He kissed her briefly on the cheek, smelling the lilac scent of her perfume, and told her she looked wonderful. Which she did.
“Thank you, sir. You look pretty good yourself; maybe a bit tired though.”
“I am tired, Em. This case is taking a lot out of me and I haven’t been sleeping well.” That was a lie, actually. He was sleeping okay, it was just that his blood sugar reading was up over seven and when that happened, he started to feel weak. He could handle it, he knew, it just made life interesting. And he wasn’t going to tell Emily about it. “I can’t stay long, Emily, sorry. A lot of new information came in on the case this morning and I have a ton to do. But I didn’t want to miss seeing you.”
Emily smiled and visibly relaxed. “Good, then. I was a bit worried that you’d get cold feet.”
They ordered their meals and chatted amiably for the next half hour. Drumm decided that this had been the right thing to do after all. It took his mind off the case for a bit of a break, and he knew when he went back to it, he would be refreshed. It was pleasant to think
of other things.
“I’m thinking of leaving the office, Nicky. I’ve become a broker, you know. And things are going so well, I was wondering about opening my own business. Emily Graham Real Estate. How does that sound to you?” Emily was looking at him carefully, wanting to judge his reaction.
“Wow, things must be good, Em! Your own company? Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
Emily looked disappointed. “You don’t think I am?”
Drumm kicked himself mentally. “I didn’t mean that, Emily. Of course you’re very capable. It’s just, it’s such a big step. Must be a helluva of a financial commitment. One just wants to be sure, that’s all.”
“I’m working on all of that, Nicky. I’ll be ready when the time comes. I was hoping you would see it as a good idea.” Emily was obviously disappointed in his reaction.
“It is a good idea, Emily. Really. I was just taken by surprise. You’ll do great.”
By this time, they had paid the bill and were outside the bar, on their way to their vehicles. Emily seemed somewhat mollified. She leaned into him and kissed him quickly on the cheek. “I’ll call you later,” she said.
Drumm watched her walk to her car and hoped that he hadn’t upset her. Clearly his underwhelming reaction to Emily’s big news had been a tactical error on his part. He would have to make it up to her.
Donald Musjari lived in a newer apartment block located about two miles from Sarah Noonan’s building. Karl Wesson figured Musjari could drive there in ten minutes or less, run it in twenty minutes or so. Was it just a coincidence that they lived so close together?
Karl’s mood was not good as he made the trip over to Musjari’s residence. Again this morning he hadn’t gone for his run, as he had once again allowed things to get out of control. He knew he shouldn’t do it, he knew he was hooked and on his way down the drain, but he couldn’t help himself anymore, it seemed. It was like he was driven, like someone else was in charge of his brain. He must stop, he had to stop, he said to himself. But even as he said it, he knew he would be trying again tonight to climb out of the pit that he had dug himself..
An Indecent Death Page 10
