“I did not,” I state emphatically, eager to reinforce the trust he placed in me when he first shared the information. “To be honest, I’d kind of forgotten about it until this case turned up on our autopsy table. Then it came back to me because it was such an unusual finding.”
This is true. The part I don’t say is that on the night in question, in the hotel bar, I had a little more to drink than I should have. I was feeling no pain that night, though I felt quite a bit the next morning when I woke up. It was the first hangover I’d had in years, and at the time, I swore it would also be the last. What Todd and I had discussed the night before wasn’t uppermost in my mind the next day, and many of the details regarding our conversation were a blur. To be honest, they still are, but the flower petal detail stuck in my mind.”
“Oh, hell,” Todd says, raking a hand through that thick blond hair. “Are you suggesting that Ulrich might be innocent?” His blue eyes grow wide and I’m struck by how handsome a man he is.
I guess his age to be around mine, maybe a bit younger. Vague flashes of memory from that night come back to me. Had I flirted with him? Harmless enough if I had—nothing happened. But still . . . I probably shouldn’t have done it. Feeling a twinge of guilt, I glance at Hurley and see that he’s watching me. Can he tell what I’m thinking?
“That’s what we need to figure out,” Izzy says, and for one horrifying moment, I fear he’s either read my mind or, worse, I’ve spoken my thoughts aloud. I feel my face flush hot and then realize Izzy is answering Todd’s question about Ulrich’s possible innocence.
Stetson returns. “Did they bring you up to speed?” he asks Todd, who then nods.
Hamilton blows out an exasperated breath and hoists himself out of his chair, making for the door. “This is absurd. You people are imagining things, building a case where none exists. And I, for one, am done with it. You’re wrong about Ulrich. He’s right where he belongs.”
With that, he storms out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him.
“Llewellyn isn’t going to be happy about this, either,” Todd says, giving Stetson a worried look.
“Who is Llewellyn?” Hurley asks, and I feel my rigid stance relax a hair, now that I’m no longer the sole subject of his burning scrutiny.
“Cory Llewellyn is the county coroner,” Todd explains. “Both he and Hamilton are up for reelection this fall, so neither of them is going to be happy to hear that the biggest case they’ve ever worked might also have been their biggest mistake.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Izzy says. “We don’t want to jump to conclusions until we’ve had a chance to review the evidence. While the odds of this being a copycat case are small, they aren’t zero. We have to follow the trail of those flower petals and see what we come up with.”
“Good luck with that,” Stetson says tiredly. “We looked into those flowers quite thoroughly and came up with nothing.”
“Except you did it with a suspect in mind,” Hurley says. “Eliminate Ulrich from the equation and it opens up all sorts of new avenues.”
Stetson frowns. “Such as?” he challenges, clearly put out by Hurley’s suggestion that he might not have done his job as meticulously as he could have.
Hurley gives him a placating smile. “I’m sure you did a thorough job of searching the local area for greenhouses and gardens, but with all the online florist services out there, isn’t it possible that someone other than Ulrich might have ordered those carnations?”
Scowling, Stetson doesn’t answer. He looks like a kid who’s just been caught in a lie.
“I did some research into those flowers,” Todd says, and I’m grateful to him for veering the conversation down a different path. “There are meanings associated with many different types of flowers and this one seemed significant, given that it wasn’t something that grew wild during the time of year in question, and the fact that the same color and type of petal was used in all of the cases.”
“What did you find out?” I ask, eager to encourage this line of thought, and curious to see if he’ll come up with the same things Arnie did.
Todd tips his head back and stares at the ceiling. “I may forget some things without my notes in front of me, but let’s see what I can recall.” There are several seconds of silence and as I watch Todd, I feel someone else’s eyes on me. I look and see Hurley watching me. I smile and wink at him, and then turn my attention back to Todd.
“Yellow flowers, in general, are associated with happiness and joy,” Todd begins, “though that doesn’t hold true with carnations. Carnations are considered flowers of love and their meaning changes with their color. A white one is said to represent purity, luck, and loveliness, whereas a red carnation symbolizes admiration, affection, and adoration. Pink ones convey tenderness, like a mother’s love. The yellow carnation, however, symbolizes disappointment, disdain, and rejection. So the fact that the yellow carnation petals were found in the wounds over the hearts of each victim would tend to imply that the killer either felt that the victim, or whoever the victim represented, had disappointed him and failed to prove worthy of love, or that the victim had rejected him. Given Ulrich’s history with Caroline Helgeson and the fact that the earlier victims all looked like her, it made sense.”
“Except Ulrich’s version of events regarding Caroline Helgeson is quite different from the police version,” Hurley says. “He told the police his breakup with Caroline was both mutual and friendly.”
“And saying that the earlier victims all looked like Caroline is making a potentially erroneous assumption,” I say. “It could be that all of the women, Caroline included, look like someone else entirely. Just because Ulrich had a relationship with Caroline and she appeared to be his last victim doesn’t mean she’s at the heart of all this. In fact, given the victim we have in Sorenson, it now appears that Caroline wasn’t the last victim.”
“Do the physical characteristics of your victim match the others?” Todd asks.
“They do,” Izzy says. “They also match the physical characteristics of about half the female population in Wisconsin. Tall, blond, blue-eyed women are a dime a dozen in this area.”
“Damn,” Todd mutters with a pained expression. He stares at the floor and again runs a hand through his hair. “Did I help convict an innocent man?”
I feel for the guy, and I have a strong urge to try to pull him back from the edge of a despair I know all too well. Eager to distract him from his thoughts, I say, “This background information on the meaning behind yellow carnations, it’s not the sort of thing the average Joe would know, is it?” I say. “I mean, how many guys would possess that kind of knowledge?”
“Ulrich would,” Stetson says. “Ulrich did. In addition to working as a sub at the high school and middle school, he moonlighted teaching classes at the UW campus here in town. And one of the subjects he taught was a class on mysticism and symbolism. I got a copy of his syllabus, and the meanings, uses, and symbolisms of various plants throughout history were some of the topics he covered in the class.”
“Well, it’s not hard to see why Ulrich was convicted,” Izzy says with a woeful shake of his head. “The evidence may be mostly circumstantial, but it’s also incriminating.”
“It wasn’t all circumstantial,” Stetson says. “There were fingerprints, and a fishing license, and the carpet fiber.”
“Let’s think this through,” I say. “We know Ulrich didn’t commit this last murder. That means we need to figure out how our latest case fits in with the others, or maybe how it doesn’t.”
“You’re welcome to all of our files, even our samples, if it will help,” Todd says. “To be honest, Noah probably knows more about this case than I do.”
“Noah?” Hurley and I say at the same time.
“Noah Larson. He’s the pathology resident here. He’s training to become a board-certified forensic pathologist. He did the autopsies, along with the guys who have been coming from Madison and Milwaukee to supervise
and teach him. Of course I’m happy to help in any way I can, too. I’m Dr. Larson’s assistant. I’m hoping to be the main medicolegal death investigator for the medical examiner’s office here, once Noah finishes his residency and gets board certified. For now, I help with all of the autopsies and do what I can with the investigations.”
“Mattie and I would very much like to speak with Dr. Larson,” Izzy says. “I’m intrigued by this training program your Dr. Larson has started. I’ve been approached about doing something similar at our facility in Sorenson, to train other doctors in forensic pathology. Where is his office located?”
“We’re at General Hospital,” Todd says.
“I don’t think we’ll accomplish much by going there,” Stetson says, scowling. “I can have Dr. Larson call you. And I can have him send you copies of the autopsies, if you like.”
“I’d rather look at them now myself,” Izzy says, garnering a frown from Stetson. “And I’d like to see the facilities.”
“As would I,” I say.
Stetson looks oddly out of sorts and I see him exchange a look with Todd. Todd then says, “I can take you there.”
I look at Hurley, eyebrows raised in question.
He hesitates, frowning, and then says, “I think I’ll stay here and sort through this material.” He gestures toward the boxes at the end of the table. “If Todd can drive you two to the hospital, I can meet you there when I’m done. Or if you prefer, you can take my truck and come back to pick me up when you’re done,” Hurley suggests.
“I’m more than happy to drive you guys there,” Todd offers with a smile directed at me.
I don’t smile back. Instead, I turn toward Hurley, whose frown has deepened. “What if we finish before you do?”
“Then I’ll drive you back here,” Todd chimes in cheerily.
Hurley and I stare at one another for a nanosecond longer than what’s comfortable. “I appreciate that,” he says, finally shifting his gaze to Todd. He looks back at me and adds, “Let me know when you get done and I’ll do the same.” Then he turns away, effectively dismissing us. “Show me what you got,” he says to Stetson.
Todd waves for us to follow him, and Izzy and I do so, going back the way we came in and exiting out the front of the building. Todd’s car is a black Honda SUV, and a quick survey of the contents tells me he likely doesn’t have any kids. He isn’t wearing a wedding ring; so for now, I’m going to assume he’s single. Then again, I’m not wearing my wedding ring, either.
Even though Todd and I are close to the same height, I let Izzy have the front seat and I settle in behind him, not wanting to stare at the back of Todd’s head. It’s cramped, but sitting next to Todd would have cramped more than my legs.
“I take it Detective Stetson isn’t a fan of the hospital,” Izzy says once we’re under way.
Todd makes an equivocal face, clearly debating what to say. “Rumor has it, he had some bad experiences at General Hospital a few years ago, even though his wife, Susan—she’s his ex-wife now—worked as a nurse there at the time. His mother developed cancer and underwent treatment at the hospital, but something went wrong during one of her hospitalizations and she died. Stetson was very close to her, since he’s an only child and his father died when he was a boy—I think he was twelve or thirteen when it happened. He lived with his mom for a long time, right up until he married Susan, and I’ve heard there was no love lost between the two women. His mom got sick right after Stetson got married, so there was some speculation that Stetson felt guilty because of that, like he somehow caused her to get the cancer. Even though Susan was pregnant at the time, his mother’s death apparently signified the death of his marriage as well.”
Todd shrugs and smiles guiltily. “I’m speculating some, because I wasn’t here when it all went down. I arrived right after Stetson’s mother died, so I don’t know all the details. But I’ve heard the gossip. Hospitals seem to be hotbeds for that sort of thing.”
“Tell me about it,” I say.
“And then there’s all the political intrigue,” Todd says. “Dr. Larson and I are caught right in the middle of it, big-time.”
“How so?” Izzy asks.
“You haven’t met the other player in this game yet, our esteemed coroner, Mr. Cory Llewellyn,” Todd says. “As you probably know, coroners in Wisconsin are elected officials, and Cory has been the coroner in this county for the past twelve years. It’s a position of some authority in these parts, and Cory basks in the attention it provides him. That, and the fact that he owns the Town’s End Bar, the biggest bar in the area.”
“Your coroner is a bar owner?” I say, admittedly surprised. I know that the position often has no real knowledge requirements attached to it, but I thought it would at least lean toward someone with a periphery of experience.
Todd chuckles. “It’s a popularity contest, and you have to admit that the owner of a bar in Wisconsin is bound to be a popular person. I think Cory might have some goods on a few people around town as well, and no doubt he drags out threats to reveal around election time.”
“So this coroner is the person who responds to the death scenes?” I say. Todd nods. “What kind of training does he have?”
“To be honest, I have no idea,” Todd says, “other than the fact that he’s been doing it for a dozen years or more. I can tell you he’s none too happy about this new medical examiner program Dr. Larson has started, though Dr. Larson is well known here and has a lot of support. He had a job as a regular pathologist at the hospital, but when he found out that we ship bodies to either Madison or Milwaukee for autopsy, he thought that was ridiculous.” He looks over at Izzy and winks. “Just between us, I think he was also a little bored with his current job, and he’s never liked Llewellyn. He wrote up a proposal to set up a satellite training campus at the hospital in conjunction with UW four years ago and volunteered to be the first student.”
“Smart move,” Izzy says.
“It was. Dr. Larson is quite canny,” Todd says with tones of admiration. “He owns a cabin on the river, though ‘cabin’ is a relative term, since I hear the place is very nice and hardly rustic. And he offered the cabin as a residence to any of the forensic pathologists from Madison or Milwaukee who were willing to come up here for a time and provide the necessary oversight, education, and instruction for the residency program.”
“That is smart,” I say. “I’m guessing he has no shortage of volunteers.”
“You’ve got that right,” Todd says. “The program has been running for almost three years now and Dr. Larson is getting ready to take his board exams. Once he does that, he’ll be like you.” Todd looks at Izzy and smiles broadly.
“And no more shipping of bodies out of town,” I say. “Are there other people interested in the residency program?”
Todd nods. “Yes, there are. One is a physician interested in changing her focus. One is a doc who’s looking to do something different as he closes in on his retirement years. He wants to move up north, where the lifestyle is a little more laid back. Others are just looking for a change. I think there are six physicians who have expressed an interest if the program is approved to continue. And all but one of them plans to practice their new vocation in rural areas that are currently served by coroners like Cory Llewellyn.”
“I hope it does get approved,” Izzy says. “Wisconsin is behind the times in that regard.”
“Not according to Cory Llewellyn,” Todd says. “He’s done everything he can to try and make sure Dr. Larson’s program fails. Wait till he hears about this case you guys have and the idea that Ulrich might be innocent. Llewellyn isn’t known for his sweet temperament, and this will likely set him off like a gas-soaked firecracker.”
I’m about to ask Todd for examples of what Llewellyn has done, but he pulls into a parking lot and says, “Here we are.”
CHAPTER 13
Todd pulls into a gated lot, using his hospital ID to gain access. We climb out and walk alongside him toward the e
ntrance. I fall into what I think of as my Izzy pace—slower, shorter steps so that my long legs don’t force Izzy, with his shorter ones, to trot to keep up. After the heart attack he had last year, I’m very tuned into Izzy and the physical demands our job sometimes puts on him. Fortunately, Todd is an ambler and Izzy keeps up with us both with ease.
I typically walk like I’m an hour late for the most important event in my life. I think this is due in part to my nursing days in the ER when the job required a constant near run to keep up with things. That speed became my default mode. Hurley is an ambler, like Todd. Sometimes, when we’re walking together, I’ll suddenly realize that I’m five feet or more ahead of him, forcing me to stop to give him time to catch up.
Speed long ago became my default mode for eating, too. When I was working as an ER nurse, I never knew when I would get to eat or how long I’d have to do it. I learned to inhale my food, and all too often did it in stages, standing up. I’ve even been known to eat while sitting on the toilet. It’s a hard habit to unlearn. As a result, I typically finish eating way ahead of anyone else at the table, no matter where I am. It’s just one of the many ways that my career in nursing altered my lifestyle.
The main lobby area of General Hospital is an airy, brightly lit atrium with modern furnishings and a colorful décor. As is the case with most hospitals during the day, there are people hustling and bustling about—employees, providers, patients, visitors, vendors. All of them have a barely subdued sense of urgency about them. The business of treating illness and injury often comes at a hastened pace; at times, the buildings seem to pulse as if they, too, are alive.
Not surprisingly, the autopsy suite is in the basement, a common location for morgues. It’s out of the way, far apart from the hustle and bustle of saving lives that takes place on the main floors. Death is often hidden away, as if by not seeing it, we might somehow avoid it—when, in fact, it is the one thing all of us can count on with absolute certainty. We may not know how it will come, or when, or if we’ll have knowledge of its pending arrival beforehand. But come it will for all of us at some point.
Dead Ringer Page 12
