Done Rubbed Out: Reightman & Bailey Book One

by Jeffery Craig

  “I don’t remember him mentioning anyone by that name,” he answered slowly. “And I wouldn’t have any way to recognize him.”

  “Didn’t you see him here, the night of the murder?”

  “I was somewhat occupied with other things, like being interviewed by you and then locked up for the night in the city jail.”

  She winced at his pointed reminder about the events of that evening. “So much has happen in the last few days I forgot for a minute. Let me think for a second.” After running through a couple of possibilities, she hit on an idea she thought might provide some answers. “Can you pull up the city webpage? There should be a picture of Lieberman on the city directory in the City Coroner’s Office section.”

  “Sure.” He turned to his computer and started typing on the keyboard. From her seat in front of the desk, Reightman recognized the City website as it appeared on the screen, and she could see Toby navigating to the appropriate place in the directory. After a while he looked back at her. “He’s not in here.”

  “Are you sure?” She went behind the desk to look over his shoulder.

  “Pretty sure.” He wiggled the mouse over the space for the coroner’s office. In place of Lieberman’s name and picture there was a gray box populated with a generic graphic of a person’s head. Text underneath the graphic read, “Position currently vacant.”

  “Dammit! They always pick the most inconvenient times to be efficient. They sure burned rubber to get his picture and bio down.” Using his mouse, she scrolled down to the box for the Assistant Coroner, and saw it too had a gray box and similar text.

  “What now?”

  “I can probably track a picture down from someplace.” Reightman thought of the picture of Lieberman that Tom had retrieved from Geri’s phone. “It’s a sleazy picture, but it’ll do.” She walked back over to the chairs and picked up her purse. “I’ll track it down and give you a call in the next day or so, on the off chance you might recognize him.”

  Toby stood to walk her to the door. As they exited his office, he turned and locked the door.

  “You’re not staying?”

  “No,” he said, as he turned the key and checked to make sure the lock had engaged, and then indicated the crime tape placed across the entrances to the other room off the hall. “There’s not much point until you guys are done and I can get a crew in to clean. “

  “I’m sorry. Toby. We’ll be done soon.”

  “Detective, stop apologizing for things which aren’t your fault. It’s just the way it is right now – you can’t control everything. I do need to get this place open again and I need to do it as soon as possible. But at least some of the spa technicians are working outcalls for a couple of area hotels. That gives them a paycheck of some sort, and brings in a little money for this place. I’ll be able to pay the monthly electric bill at least, unless this heat wave continues.” Toby hit the lights as they headed toward the doors.

  He held the front door open for her and she started to go out, but stopped with a new thought. “Toby, Helliman was kicked off the force today. He made some really ugly comments and a few threats.”

  He let the door fall closed again. “Isn’t Helliman the cop from the other day? The day you went all badass?”

  “He’s the one.” Reightman acknowledged. “Toby, keep your eyes open and look out for him. I don’t think he’ll try anything, but he’s angry and has more than proved his level of bad judgment and ability to screw things up for everyone.”

  “I can take care of myself, Detective,” he assured her as he opened the door again. “Hey, is it alright for me to go to Geri’s apartment and start packing up his things?”

  Reightman recognized his need for some kind of closure. “Yes, the crime techs are finished.” At his inquiring expression, she shook her head. “No, they didn’t find anything.”

  He ushered her out the door and Reightman watched as he locked the door and double checked it by pulling on the handle a couple of times. When he finished up with the door, he walked her to her car and waited until she was settled inside. He leaned into the open door. “Let me know when you have a picture of the coroner for me to look at, and please, call me when you know when they’ll release Geri. Grams and I need this part to be over.” As he stepped away to allow her to close the car door, he added, “Take care of yourself and watch your own back, Detective.”

  Reightman found it disconcerting he’d echoed Jackson’s warning of a few hours ago. “I will, Toby. You can count on it.” She pulled the door shut and buckled up. He stood watching her as she backed out of her parking spot, and as she drove away, he still standing in front of the dark and empty window of the Time Out Spa.

  ♦♦♦

  John Brown watched from his rear view mirror in a vehicle parked in the lot across the street as the detective drove away. He watched the young man standing in front of the window until the man looked both ways and jogged across the street. “Good looking guy. Too bad I don’t swing his way – usually.” He watched as the young man went up a stairwell. “Probably has an apartment upstairs,” he decided.

  Once he was sure there was no one around to take note of him, John Brown got out of his late model black SUV and locked the doors with the key fob. Then he strolled down the sidewalk, looking in an occasional window, and studying the roofline. There wasn’t much to see on the first side of the street, so he crossed at the corner and made his way down the other side. He stopped in front of the door to the spa and, after looking around again, he tried the door. He wasn’t surprised to find it locked. He turned away from the door and glanced across the street. He noted the roofline from that side as well.

  Then he returned to his SUV. He unlocked the door, giving the warm air a minute to escape. He slid into the vehicle, started the engine and waited until the interior had cooled. He drove away. It was time to get back to work. He had a problem to solve.

  ♦♦♦

  Once she arrived back at the station, Reightman stowed both her purse and the elegantly wrapped package in her desk drawer and proceeded to work through the messages that had accumulated while she was out meeting with Toby Bailey. Moments later, Jackson sauntered over, removed his jacket and hung it carefully over the back of his chair, and took a seat. “Any luck with Goldbleum?” she asked without looking up from the never ending piles of pink paper slips.

  “No, not a lick of luck. He didn’t recognize Helliman.”

  “I’d hoped he would. That would have tied things up neatly.”

  “Rather too neatly, I’d say. As much as I suspect Helliman knows far more than we’ve discovered, and is probably up to his thick red neck in something, I don’t think he’s the actual killer. He doesn’t have the balls for it.”

  She looked up and gave him a reluctant nod of agreement. “I know you’re probably right about Helliman. I was just hoping we’d catch some sort of break.”

  “How did it go down on Capital Street?”

  “Alright, I guess. Bailey took the news as well as could be expected. He was –I don’t know, somehow different today.”

  “Different in what way?” Sam asked.

  She considered for a minute, trying to put her finger on Toby’s mood. “I can’t quite pinpoint it, but he was more removed from the situation. It’s almost like he’s stepping back and looking at it from a distance.”

  “He probably is. There’s no way this incident didn’t hit him right in the gut. Stepping back emotionally is likely just a coping mechanism to help him get through it all. He still has a lot ahead of him.”

  “Yes, he does,” she agreed. “And we just keep handing him more delays and excuses to accept and accommodate, delaying the grieving process. I’m surprised he hasn’t had a complete breakdown.”

  “Mr. Bailey is a man of hidden depth and resource, Reightman. Regardless of how young he seems, I think he has the right stuff inside to see this through.” She didn’t respond to his observation, so after a few seconds he tossed out another comment. �
��You seem to be growing kind of attached to him, Reightman.”

  “Yeah, Jackson, I guess I am.”

  He’d wondered if she’d admit it, but now it was out on the table. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  Melba thought about it and shrugged. “Probably not, but I am anyway. It’s almost involuntary. He seems almost like a…”

  “Son?” Sam suggested

  “No,” she disagreed, and searched for the right words. “He’s like a little brother I didn’t know I had until just recently.” Reightman moved the pink stack of messages around on her desk, not really paying attention to what was written on them. “I don’t know what to make of him sometimes, but something about him makes me want to protect him and help him and give him some extra support when he needs it.” She looked over to where her partner sat across the desks. “I know it’s not a good idea to get involved with anyone tied to this case, but I can’t seem to help it. Is that wrong?”

  “No, it’s not wrong. It’s human, and very, very tricky.” He gave her a minute more to consider the situation and then changed the subject. “Did you get your shopping done?”

  “Yes, I did, and I intend to try and make amends for whatever I did to ruin Nancy’s life right after I go down and meet the new team in the morgue.”

  “May I suggest that you don’t include the ‘whatever I did to ruin your life’ part when you see Nancy? Otherwise you might find yourself wishing you were a part of the morgue team, the permanent one – if you catch my drift.”

  “Suggestion approved, and point taken, Sam. Speaking of which, it’s probably time to head on down there. You want to come with?”

  “Sure, I don’t have anything better to do.” Jackson pointedly ignored his own stack of messages and pulled on his jacket. “What?” he asked when he caught her looking at the way he was tugging it into place and smoothing the lapels. “I just want to make a good impression, Reightman. Someone around here has to uphold our professional image.”

  She rolled her eyes and smoothed down her own jacket, trying to ignore the new wrinkles which had popped up since morning. “I knew we kept you around for a reason, Jackson.” They walked to the elevator bank and she pushed the button. “I hope I don’t have to pressure this guy too much to get some progress. Have you heard anything about him?” Reightman asked as they waited on the elevator.

  “I may have heard a little.”

  “Well?” she prodded as they stepped in and she pushed the down button.

  “You’ll see. I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.” She noticed him rubbing his hands together in anticipation. She gave him a disgusted look and they exited the elevator and walked down the hall to the doors of the morgue. He pointedly ignored her.

  They entered into the small waiting area and Reightman walked up to the woman sitting at the desk formerly occupied by Riley. The woman’s head was bent over a stack of files and she was making rapid notations inside the file on top. She didn’t look up at Reightman’s approach. “Excuse me,” Reightman said after a moment or two had passed. “I hate to bother you, but if he has a moment, we’d like to speak with the new acting coroner.”

  The woman looked up and gave Reightman the once over before looking back down at her files. “Who are you?” she finally asked as she continued writing.

  “I’m Detective Melba Reightman, and this is my partner, Detective Sam Jackson.”

  The woman kept writing. Reightman waited for a couple more seconds, feeling her irritation beginning to rise. When the woman continued to ignore them, she took a deep breath and launched in. “Look, I realize things are a mess down here, and the coroner probably has his hands full, but really it’s important for us to speak with him. We can go on back to his office if you’re too busy to help. I know the way.”

  The woman flipped a page in the file and looked up briefly before she continued writing. “The coroner’s not back in the office.”

  Reightman looked over at Jackson, noting his lopsided smile. “He must be enjoying the show,” she thought before turning back to the woman at the desk. “Do you know when he will be back?”

  “No, I don’t know when he’ll be back,” the woman answered, her thin lips wrinkling slightly in amusement.

  Reightman reached the end of her patience. “I’ve had about enough of this!” she snapped. “I don’t know what you find so amusing, but I doubt the coroner will find it half so funny when I tell him just how unhelpful you’ve been. You’re wasting our time and we’re here on important business.”

  The woman looked up at her, regarding her with a full faced smile. “He may not find it amusing, but I’m certainly enjoying myself.” She went back to her writing.

  At that, Reightman finally lost her temper. “Okay, that’s it! We’ll leave, but first I want your name.”

  The woman twisted her curly iron gray hair into a sloppy bun, jabbing in her pencil to hold it in place. She closed the file and stood up holding out her hand. “Certainly, Detective. I’m Doctor Patricia Evans, currently the Acting City Coroner.”

  Reightman regarded the hand in front of her and finally took it, noting the firm grip. “I’m sorry, Doctor, I didn’t realize…” she trailed off.

  “That the new coroner is a woman, and one with an odd sense of humor?” Dr. Evans finished for her. “Hello, Detective Jackson,” she smiled at Sam. “It’s good to see you again. I believe you owe me five dollars.”

  “What? Happy to see him again? And what’s this about five dollars?”

  “I met Detective Jackson this morning. When he saw me struggling to open the door with my hands full, he was kind enough to open it for me and we spent a few minutes getting acquainted.”

  “Wasn’t he just the perfect gentleman?” Reightman narrowed her eyes in her partner’s direction. “Payback’s coming,” she thought, “and it is going to be a doozy – long, slow and painful.”

  “Detective Jackson and I spoke briefly about the Guzman case,” continued the doctor. “He mentioned you’d both be coming by this afternoon and I warned him he’d likely find me up here in front since I wanted to make some progress on reviewing these files. Dr. Bridges, the new assistant coroner, has an offsite appointment this afternoon and won’t be back until later today. Under the circumstances, I thought it best not to leave the front area unattended.”

  Reightman shot another glare in her partner’s direction, planning evil and mayhem.

  “When he heard that, he came up with the most brilliant suggestion,” Evan’s continued. “We made a small bet around how long you’d be able to hold your temper if I came across as somewhat uninterested and, shall we say –unhelpful? I’m happy to say, I won.”

  “Let me get this right. Detective Jackson bet I’d be able to hold my temper longer than I did?”

  “No. He bet you’d reach the end of your patience at about the second or third exchange. I took the opposite position. He didn’t think it was totally fair, since I’d be the one trying to push your buttons. He was afraid I might not do everything above the board, but I assured him I’d do everything possible to really get your goat.” Evans looked toward Sam. “So, Jackson, did I play fair?”

  “As much as I hate to admit it, you did indeed, ma’am.” He pulled a roll of bills out of his front pocket and peeled of a five. He carefully sidestepped Reightman – anticipating a sharp kick – and handed it over to the coroner. “I wish you’d kept it up for a few more minutes. Reightman is a sight to behold when she flat out lets it rip.”

  The doctor pocketed the bill with a smile. “I’m sure she is, Jackson, but even though I’m new here, I’ve already heard of the Detective’s rather formidable temper. I wanted to avoid possible injury.”

  “Alright, alright,” Reightman broke in with attempted good humor, “now that you two have had your fun, can we talk about Guzman?”

  “Certainly, Detective.” Evans quickly gathered up the stack of files. “Why don’t you both come on back, and I’ll share my preliminary findings.” Jac
kson opened the door and allowed the doctor to precede them.

  “You’ve already started?”

  “Yes. Thelma-Louise and I started as soon as we got in this morning.”

  “Thelma-Louise?”

  “Yes, Doctor Thelma-Louise Bridges is my assistant coroner. We’ve worked together many times in the past and I suppose I forget the formalities where she’s concerned. She served her internship under me several years ago. I was very pleased she was available for this assignment. She’s brilliant, and someone I enjoy working with.”

  “Does she share your somewhat unorthodox sense of humor, Doctor?” Reightman asked wryly, as she took a seat in one of the chairs facing the Evans’ desk.

  ‘”No, not at all. She’s perfectly nice – I’m not.” Evans took her own chair, and motioned for Jackson to take the one next to Reightman.

  Once everyone was settled, Evans pulled out a file from the stack and opened it. “We still have some work to complete, but I do have preliminary findings,” she began, looking over her notes briefly. “To start with, Mr. Guzman’s death was indeed the result of massive blood loss due to the multiple wounds he received. I’ve confirmed the wounds are consistent with those the knife in custody could have made. I have a couple more measurements and cut patterns to check before I’m certain it’s the same knife, but that shouldn’t take too long.” She looked up at Reightman and Jackson and smiled grimly. “However, there are some other contributing factors I’ve found, and I suspect we’ll find more before we’ve finished.”

  “Such as?” Jackson pulled out his notebook.

  “Such as the markings on Mr. Guzman’s neck area which suggest he was lassoed.”

  “Lassoed?”

  “Yes, Detective Jackson.” Evans considered her words carefully before continuing. “The markings lead me to believe someone restrained him about the neck, although there have been attempts to obfuscate the markings.”

  “Someone tried to cover up the fact that he was…lassoed?”