by Debra Webb
Her former teacher took a moment to survey the apartment. Jess felt that same heat rise in her cheeks as her gaze lit on the tousled sheets of the bed.
‘I’m still getting organized—’
Frances turned to Jess then, and the unabashed fear on her face stole the rest of what Jess was about to say.
Without a word of explanation, Frances drew her into a fierce hug. ‘I need your help, Jess,’ she whispered with the same ferocity as her embrace. ‘I think I’m about to be charged with murder.’
Chapter Two
Vestavia Village
Tuesday, August 10, 2.01 A.M.
Despite the lack of lights and sirens, within half an hour of the police’s arrival, the residents of Vestavia Village were gathering in the food court for complimentary coffee and the promise of a briefing. Excited chatter and curious stares accompanied their meandering path through the solarium that served as a lobby. Not a single member of the geriatric crowd paid the slightest bit of attention to Jess and her team. They were far too busy attempting to get a glimpse of the body.
Word had already spread that someone was dead.
Jess couldn’t exactly fault their curiosity. These folks had lots of time on their hands, and the fact was no one was more curious about the dead than her. Maybe because her parents died when she was so young. Jess didn’t really remember when her interest was stirred but that morbid curiosity made her very good at her job. She turned back to resume her survey of the crime scene. They’d cordoned off an area that extended along the corridor leading from the solarium to the offices of the administrator and his staff up to and including the main entrance of the facility. With two ways to reach the administrator’s office – via the main entrance and the solarium lobby – it was necessary to protect both until any evidence was recovered.
The timing of the call from dispatch, not fifteen minutes after Frances whispered her stunning announcement in Jess’s ear, would have been freaky bizarre except that impeccable timing had always been another of her favorite teacher’s notable attributes. The man Frances suspected she would be accused of murdering was indeed dead. Which was no coincidence since Frances had found him that way before rushing across town to pay Jess an impromptu visit.
Further proof that Jess drew killers like bees to honey, except Frances Wallace was no killer. Her explanation of tonight’s events was a little scattered and a lot thin but Jess had gotten the gist of things. Even at seventy-five, the woman wasn’t going to be hoodwinked by some whippersnapper – said whippersnapper was, unfortunately, the murder victim.
Since her options were limited, Jess had brought Frances to the crime scene with her. She was ensconced in the library in the company of one of Birmingham PD’s finest. Not that she was going anywhere, but Jess had no intention of letting her talk to anyone else until she got to the bottom of exactly what had transpired.
The janitors who found the victim and called 911 were sequestered to a staff lounge on the east end of the building where Detective Lori Wells was taking statements. The crime scene unit techs had arrived and were documenting and gathering evidence in and around the primary scene. Lieutenant Valerie Prescott was monitoring that activity while Officer Chad Cook wandered amid the residents in the dining hall. His job was to take note of anyone who appeared nervous or visibly out of sorts. BPD uniforms were searching the grounds. The deputy administrator of the senior living facility had arrived and was waiting to give his statement as well. Jess had given him a few minutes to get the residents settled.
Someone from the coroner’s office was en route. Wouldn’t bother Jess one bit if Sylvia Baron got the case. The snarky doctor was spot on in her assessments, and . . . Jess was curious about her – or more precisely her sister, a former Mrs Daniel Burnett. And, if she were completely honest with herself, Jess kind of liked Sylvia. They were friends . . . sort of.
‘Chief,’ Sergeant Chet Harper said, drawing her attention back to the reason she was here. ‘According to his personal secretary, the victim, Scott Baker, remained in his office last night after she and the rest of the staff left for the evening. No meetings were scheduled and, to her knowledge, he wasn’t expecting any visitors. She says it’s not unusual for him to work late.’
‘So,’ Jess said, following Harper along the corridor that led back to the administrator’s office, ‘between half past five and quarter to eleven, Baker was here alone except for a visit from the Grim Reaper. The janitors came in to clean the office and found his body. Called nine-one-one. And here we are. Anything on the surveillance cameras?’
The question she kept to herself was: Is a little gray-haired lady showcased in any of the footage?
Harper shook his head. ‘The surveillance system is digital and motion activated. It generally runs twenty-four-seven, which would’ve shown anyone entering or exiting the facility. But the system was turned off just before six last night. Pete Clemmons, the deputy administrator, insists that only Baker could have done that. Not even Clemmons has the code. And no one outside the security company has the ability to delete stored data in the system.’
Jess crossed the threshold into the administrator’s office for the second time since her arrival. The forensic folks wouldn’t start in here until after she’d had her look and the coroner’s office had done their thing.
The body lay on the floor in front of the broad mahogany desk. That he was in front of the desk rather than behind it suggested to Jess that he’d been engaged in intimate conversation with his visitor. Scott Baker’s suit jacket hung on a bronze coat rack in the corner near the door. The white shirt and navy trousers showed a day’s wear. A small pattern of blood splatter soiled the left shoulder of his shirt. His striped tie and the first two buttons of his shirt were loosened as if he’d had reason to be exasperated or maybe he’d had a long day. Possibly his visitor may have pumped up his frustration level.
Baker’s dark hair was matted on the left side of his head where it appeared two violent blows to the temple area had taken him down. Probable fractures and certainly internal hemorrhaging had ensured he didn’t get back up.
The scenario that he had tripped and fallen went out the window pretty quickly as far as Jess was concerned. The desk – and the table, flanked by two chairs – was clean of blood and tissue that would surely have been left behind had he hit his head there. Nope, Scott Baker had not accidentally gotten that lethal injury. His most likely right-handed visitor had given him a hell of a wallop upside the head, then another for good measure, before walking away.
The victim had been dead a few hours. Rigor had a good start. Jess eased into a crouch to get a better look at the damage to his temple area. ‘Did you find anything that might have been the murder weapon, Sergeant?’
‘If it’s still in this room,’ Harper offered, ‘it’s been wiped.’
Jess pushed to her feet and mentally inventoried the potential weapons. A crystal paperweight was too roundish to have caused the gouges in the scalp. The stacks of manila folders may have given the man a headache but they hadn’t killed him. Framed photos of a young wife and son weren’t heavy enough. Besides, a blow like that would have broken the glass. With gloved hands, she lifted and gauged the weight of an Administrator of the Year Award.
‘This feels solid enough.’ Jess studied the marble base. Like Harper said, no sign of blood or tissue but the sharp corners would have done the trick. She squatted next to the victim again and had another look at his wounds. ‘The corner of this base could be it.’ If the killer hadn’t taken the murder weapon with him.
‘I’ll have one of the techs bag it as soon as the ME has a look,’ Harper agreed.
Jess settled the trophy on the desk and dusted her gloved hands together as if that aspect of her work was done. Notification of next of kin was still a no-go. According to the deputy administrator, Baker’s wife and son were down in Mobile for a final getaway before school started. That would need to be confirmed to clear the spouse.
Jess moved
around behind the desk and opened drawer after drawer. More files. Sharpened pencils and a stash of peppermints. Her attention returned to the framed photos. Young, beautiful family. She’d checked his wallet and driver’s license. The man lived in one of Birmingham’s wealthiest neighborhoods. The car keys in his pocket belonged to a Jaguar that was parked in his slot out front. The school uniform the young son wore in one of the photos told Jess he attended Birmingham’s most prestigious academy.
However good life was for Scott Baker and his family, someone had wanted him dead and that someone had managed to get the job done. In light of the after-hours timing and the shutting down of the surveillance part of the security system, Baker had not only known his final visitor quite well, but he’d also been anticipating the visit. Could be a village resident? Frances Wallace’s image taunted her. She couldn’t have done this. Sure would have made Jess’s job a lot easier if that video surveillance had been left on.
‘Why in the world did you turn off the video surveillance, Mr Baker?’
‘If he answers you,’ an irreverent female voice announced, ‘I’ve wasted my time coming here.’
Jess turned to greet the medical examiner. ‘Looks like we’ll be working together again this week, Dr Baron.’
‘I’ve survived worse.’ Dressed in a color-blocked sheath of dove gray and burgundy with open-toed stilettos in a deeper shade of gray, Sylvia rounded the desk and crouched next to the victim.
Maybe the idea that they were sort of friends was a bit premature. Before Jess could levy a witty comeback, Sylvia asked, ‘You get settled in your temporary apartment?’
‘I did. Thank you for asking.’ The belted ivory dress, her favorite, Jess had opted to wear for this middle-of-the-night outing suddenly felt like a flour sack compared to the sleek-fitting one Sylvia wore. Then again, it might not be the dress. The woman was gorgeous, tall and statuesque. Things Jess would never be.
‘Carrie Bradley mentioned she saw you and Dan out shopping on Saturday.’
‘Carrie Bradley?’ Jess didn’t know the name. On Saturday, Dan, Chief of Police Burnett – her boss, she amended – had taken her to a few local thrift stores in search of stuff for her apartment. She’d found a surprisingly nice sofa and chair, along with a coffee table, a chest of drawers, and a bedside table. For now, she was set.
‘Carrie’s redecorating her master bedroom,’ Sylvia explained. ‘She donated everything in the room to the Second Life thrift store. She saw you there.’
‘Oh.’ Great. There was nothing like having Burnett’s uppity friends know that she shopped at the same place they donated. ‘That’s nice,’ Jess said with about as much enthusiasm as the guy on the floor had for his current predicament. ‘I’ll have to remember that next time I redecorate.’ She could redonate the stuff. Ha-ha.
Sylvia made a noncommittal sound. ‘I guess you found everything you needed.’
‘For now, yes.’ No point going overboard with the decorating since she didn’t know how long she’d be living in the garage apartment. Not that she was in any hurry to start house hunting. Her house in Virginia was still on the market and she needed the cash from that sale before going more deeply in debt. Besides, the elderly man who was currently her benevolent benefactor seemed nice enough. Good, trustworthy landlords were hard to find. This one went to church every Sunday. Her sister told her so.
That reminded Jess, she should check in with Lily to see how she was feeling. Waiting on the results of all those tests to determine what was going on with the crazy symptoms plaguing her was driving them both crazy. Not to mention Jess was also supposed to drop by their estranged aunt’s house to pick up that medical history she’d compiled. The weekend had slipped by and Jess had completely forgotten.
Or maybe she’d forgotten on purpose. Seeing her aunt again ranked about as high on her looking-forward-to list as getting a mammogram. Why she even referred to the woman as her aunt was a mystery. Lily was the only family Jess had. End of story.
‘I was the new kid on the block at the coroner’s office when his sister died,’ Sylvia said, her attention on the victim as she measured the body’s core temperature.
Another of those deep frowns puckered Jess’s forehead as she elbowed aside the distracting thoughts of her sister and Dan’s snobby friends. She rubbed at the creases with the back of her hand. ‘Whose sister?’
‘Your new landlord’s. He took care of his sister until she died. She was a total invalid. MS, if I recall correctly.’
Burnett had told Jess that Louis hadn’t been married. Lily had gotten the part about him being a widower wrong. Based on what Sylvia had just told her, Lily probably thought the sister had been his wife. Not that it mattered to Jess but Burnett had insisted on doing a background check. He didn’t like the idea of Jess living over a stranger’s garage. Which was ridiculous. Most any landlord in the city would be a stranger to her.
Wait a minute. The frown was back. If Mr Louis had never been married, who owned the ring she’d found in his garage? Had his sister been married? Probably. Maybe he even had nieces and nephews. He hadn’t entertained any visitors this last week as far as Jess knew. Then again he might not have any relatives in Birmingham. Not that it was any of her business.
‘You know him?’ Jess asked. Sylvia hadn’t mentioned knowing him when she’d dropped by with a housewarming gift the other night. ’Course, they’d had other worries at the time.
‘Not really,’ Sylvia said, her attention still on the victim. ‘I pronounced the sister. Louis and I met. That’s basically it.’
Jess had to admit she was a little curious about the man. Okay, maybe she was a lot curious. Mostly she was immensely thankful for a place of her own, even if it was basically just one big room. Of course, if she’d known Lori was going to move in with Harper so soon, she could have sublet her place. Probably not a good idea. Having a tenant in her place would only ensure Lori stayed in the relationship with Harper even if she started to have second thoughts.
Good grief, there she went assuming the worst of the couple’s latest step. Just because Jess hadn’t been able to sustain a decent romantic relationship for any length of time didn’t mean Lori and Harper wouldn’t be able to.
The fact was Jess’s issue with relationships went way beyond the romance kind. She’d never really had a lot of friends. She was always too busy. After she’d put Birmingham in her rearview mirror twenty some years ago and joined the Bureau at Quantico, she’d hardly come back for a visit. Lily reminded her often how much she’d missed.
Something else Jess had to fix.
‘I’d estimate time of death at between eight and ten last night,’ Sylvia announced, dragging Jess back to the here and now. ‘Judging by the location of the visible injuries, I’d wager cause of death is middle meningeal arterial hemorrhaging from the trauma to the temple area. Depending on the damage to the artery, death may have been very swift. Possibly only minutes.’
‘How long before we have a preliminary report?’
Baron stood and peeled off her gloves. ‘The mayor is going to inform the victim’s parents so they can get word to the wife. She’s out of town. He called me en route to Scott Baker’s parents’ home and asked that we make this case a priority.’
‘This victim’s related to the mayor?’ Jess didn’t know why she was surprised. Birmingham’s upper crust liked to stay within their class. They all seemed related somehow. In the South, old money had a habit of circling the same pocketbooks.
‘No.’ Sylvia turned to Jess. ‘Your victim’s great-great-grandfather was one of the railroad barons who helped build Birmingham. Old money and lots of it. The Pratt family fortune has roots in that same history.’ She shifted her attention back to the victim. ‘Dan didn’t tell you about Baker?’
‘He called but I haven’t had time to call him back.’ If Burnett had any ideas of giving this case to the Crimes Against Persons Division, he could forget it. This was her case. Jess had ignored his calls for that very reason
. Seemed every time some who’s-who from the lifestyle pages got murdered, her colleague Deputy Chief Harold Black cherry-picked the case.
Not this time.
‘I’ll have something later today, early tomorrow at the latest,’ Sylvia told her. ‘Can’t keep the mayor or his friends waiting.’
Jess tugged off her gloves. She had folks to interview. ‘I guess that’s something that won’t ever change about Birmingham. Even when you’re dead it’s all about who you know.’
The doctor’s eyebrows arched. ‘Or who you blow.’ She bent down and retrieved her medical bag. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I have a preliminary assessment.’
Jess wondered if Sylvia and her younger sister were anything alike. Her cell clanged that old-fashioned-phone ringtone, prodding her beyond the distraction. Jess dug for it as she called a thanks to Sylvia. The woman waltzed out of the office more like a runway model than a medical examiner. Jess shook her head. Why was looking that good so easy for some women?
Lori Wells’s name and image flashed on the screen of Jess’s phone. Was she finished taking statements already? ‘Harris.’
‘Chief, you need to talk to Mr Foster now.’
‘The janitor who made the nine-one-one call?’ Terrence Foster was the lead janitor and he hadn’t given the impression that he possessed useful information when Jess first arrived.
‘He swears he knows who the killer is.’
Talk about an about-face. ‘I’ll be right there.’
Jess went in search of Harper. He was taking the deputy administrator’s statement. Jess pointed in the direction of the east end of the building and headed that way.
At the staff lounge, she entered the room and both the janitor, Terrence Foster, and his assistant, Moe Brewer, started talking at once. Lori looked way out of patience.
