Done Rubbed Out: Reightman & Bailey Book One

by Jeffery Craig

  Tom answered before she could ask. “The Coroner is also aware of the need to test the specimen for a match with Guzman.”

  “The final items in question are the laptop computer on the table and the items found on the screen when the laptop was opened fully. When we arrived, the screen had been partially lowered,” Laurie explained as she beckoned them forward. “As you can see from the position of the laptop on the table in relationship to the positioning of the chair, marked in tape on the floor, the laptop was in reach of the victim, although not an optimal distance for ease of typing.” When all had nodded their understanding, Laurie added, “We assume when the victim was ready for….ready to take the presumed suicidal action, he pushed himself slightly back from the table.”

  “You said presumed action?”

  “Yes, Detective Jackson, although I only used those words because Tom said I should, until we’re certain. In my opinion, it looks like Dr. Lieberman just blew his own head off, but until the Coroner substantiates it, it’s just conjecture.”

  Reightman spared a glance toward Anderson to see his reaction to Laurie’s little speech. She wasn’t surprised to see him covering his mouth to hide his own grin at her textbook response and very non-textbook extras.

  “May we see the words he typed?” Jones asked. Tom affirmed that they could indeed, and one at a time they stepped forward to read what someone, presumably Lieberman, had left for them.

  Reightman noticed Mitchell took his time, this being the first chance he‘d ever had to participate in a case of any magnitude, much less this magnitude. The rest of the team quickly read the letter and moved on. Jackson scanned it pretty rapidly after first checking to make sure his still pressed pants weren’t in any danger of collecting blood or gray matter. He knew Tom would provide them all copies later, when he had the laptop back in his lair. Jones read it equally fast, only to turn back to read it again. When it was her turn to step forward, she approached the laptop and bracing herself with her hands on her knees, she leaned forward. The text on the screen was fairly straightforward.

  I, DR BeNjamIn LIEberman am tHE 1 who KILLED GUZMAN I LUVed hIM BUTt He DDn’t rETUrN MY LOve EvEN ThO hE Gave mE HINTs THaT He DID i KILEd hiM AT ThAT sinful sPA ANd THeN TrYED 2 CoNFUsSE mMY tRAIL. I AM SorRY… I aM rEAdy 4 mY deATh

  At the bottom of the short note were two lower case letters, bj.

  Reightman frowned at the out-of-place letters beneath the main body of the confession and turned to Anderson. “Tom, what do you make of the small letters near the bottom?”

  “I’m not sure. They may not mean a thing – just last minute finger fumbles as he contemplated what he’d done, and was about to do. The overall structure of the confession indicates he was in some mental and emotional distress. The blend of upper and lower case letters and the absence of most punctuation support that hypothesis. Another thing to consider is the placement of the letters on the keyboard.” He stepped forward to illustrate his point. “Look where the letters H, B, and J appear on the keyboard. The last letter typed in the main body of the note is the letter H. The letters J and M are next to and directly below the letter H respectively.” He paused to check her understanding of the explanation he’d provided before he continued. “If Evans confirms quantities of alcohol and drug in his system, we can also assume those substances affected his cognitive ability and manual dexterity, adding an additional explanation for the jumbled typing and poor spelling.”

  When no one in the room offered additional comment, Tom wrapped things up. “We still have work, Detectives, so I’d recommend you all return to the mothership. Laurie and I understand the urgency of this, and will do our best to have preliminary findings, to be confirmed and verified against the Coroner’s findings, by tomorrow mid-day.” Laurie groaned at the proposed timetable, but cut off her noise when she caught the look her superior was directing her way.

  Reightman stifled her own smile, knowing she and the boys were likely to be burning some late night oil as well, once they received the reports from Tom and the ruling from Evans.

  “We’ll get out of your hair, Tom.” Jackson spoke for all of them and they started to leave the room.

  “Hey, Laurie?”

  “Yes, Detective Reightman?”

  “Tell your boss I said you did a good job walking us through the findings. I know he’s a hard-assed, egotistical jerk, so tell him I’ll be including my appreciation for your work in my own report.”

  Laurie flushed with pleasure at Reightman’s unexpected praise and snuck a little look toward her boss. His grin confirmed that he agreed with the Detective wholeheartedly, and was proud she’d noticed and publicly commented.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Laurie responded before she turned back to start finishing up the remaining onsite work.

  Tom Anderson shot a wink Reightman’s way as she and her three musketeers – or stooges – depending on your viewpoint, headed out of the room to take off their booties and gloves, and beam back to the mothership.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TOBY FORCED HIMSELF out of bed early Thursday morning and struggled through his normal morning routine. The coroner and the police were releasing Geri’s body a little after 10 AM and he needed to be at the city morgue to sign the release forms. The body would then be transferred to the local funeral company for burial on Saturday.

  He forced himself to shower, shave and dress while working his way through a couple of pots of coffee. “I hope the caffeine kicks in soon.” He poured the last of the second pot into his mug, feeling tired and sluggish as he looked out the French doors of his apartment.

  From where he stood, Toby could only see blue sky and small pieces of the rooftops across the street. There weren’t any clouds to mar the perfect, flat blue expanse arching above the roof tops. If he concentrated, he could identify the collection of buildings which combined old with new, and made up the downtown business and entertainment district. After contemplating the sky and the rooftops for a few minutes more, Toby drained his mug, and put it in the sink.

  He gathered up his belongings and the paperwork he’d need, put his phone in his back pocket and picked up his keys. Taking one last glance out of the French doors, he left his apartment. As his foot hit the bottom step, he noticed the crowd gathered in front of the spa. He couldn’t tell what they were doing, but saw they were all looking toward the big front windows. As he crossed the street, he noticed a few onlookers breaking off from the crowd and walking hurriedly away. He recognized Moon and Bernice standing at the back of the group and he adjusted his path to come up behind them. As he neared the building, he thought he saw bright pink…spray paint? “Oh shit! It is spray paint,” he realized as he pushed his way through the gawkers.

  Moon reached out to touch his arm lightly as he brushed past her. “I’m so very terribly sorry this horrible thing has happened, Toby.”

  A few of the people in the crowd noticed his approach and moved out of the way so he could have access to his business. When he reached the front, he stopped and took in the artwork now decorating the entrance of the Time Out Spa. The hateful words sprayed across the façade and the crude, childish renderings of penises were shocking to many of those present. Yet for some reason, instead of flying to pieces, Toby found himself analyzing the method behind the vandalism.

  “Whoever did this was slightly above average height.” He looked up at the highest point of the first letter, and decided whoever had done this, they probably hadn’t used a ladder. The job would have been too hurried, and even in the middle of the night there were often people returning home from a late night at work, or from the last call at a neighborhood bar.

  The lettering started about six feet from the ground, and began at a point just to the left of the entrance door. The sprayed block letters continued across the old brick of the building, occasionally bleeding onto the metal frames and the glass of the door and front windows. Where the paint had hit glass, it ran, before drying to a shiny, glossy finish. The lettering
angled downward in a slight arc, with the final word just about three feet from the ground. “The painter was probably right handed,” Toby reasoned. “Based on the curve of the lettering, he must have started spraying the paint while reaching slightly above his head, and then lowered the arm as he walked to the right.”

  There was less to learn from the sidewalk ornamentation. There, the painter had satisfied his artistic urge by simply spraying brightly colored, hugely exaggerated cocks and balls doing a happy little tango down the concrete. There were a couple of smudges in the paint. “He probably stepped in it as he was leaving.” Toby continued his inspection, noticing all the little penises were facing the same direction. “If he had added smiling faces,” some detached and amused part of his mind observed, “they’d look just like those animated hot dogs advertising concessions at the movie theater.”

  Behind him, he heard Bernice’s voice. “Toby, I’ve called the police. They’re on their way.” He turned to thank her and saw her bending slightly to help Madame Zhou step up onto the uneven curb.

  “Toby, are you all right?” Zhou Li asked as she took small steps toward him.

  “I’m fine, Madame Zhou.” As he answered, he realized he really was doing pretty well – all things considered. “I’m mad as hell, but this is nothing compared to the last several days.”

  Madame Zhou peered up at him through her lenses, and then moved closer to the building so she could better view the damage. She tilted her head sideways as she read the lettering, and then stepped back to look down curiously at the renderings on the sidewalk. “Our budding artist is not very original,” she remarked. “He has a warped sense of perspective. These are all rather disproportionate.” She waived her hand to indicate all of the large, misshapen body parts and looked up at Toby with a grim smile which displayed her tiny white teeth. “His parents should have provided him art lessons at an early age. Although if they had, he may have found better things to do with his time than to deface private property.”

  Her use of the word property set off a trigger in Toby’s mind. “I need to call the property management company and report this.”

  Madame Zhou pursed her lips for a minute and turned toward him. “I will be pleased to make the call for you, Toby. The police should be here soon, and you’ll have your hands full with them. It seems to take longer to complete their forms and reports than it does to commit an actual crime.”

  “Police are here,” Bernice interrupted and grunted toward the marked squad car. “I’ve got to get back across the street. The lunch bunch will be showing up before I know it and I’ve a truckload of turnips to peel between now and then.” She cuffed him on the shoulder lightly. “Keep your shoulders up, Toby. Don’t let the rat bastard’s artistic expression get you down.”

  The next hour passed quickly. As one of the uniformed officers completed his four-part form, Madame Zhou commented, “I’d anticipated Detective Reightman’s presence, given her ongoing investigation.”

  The officer looked briefly at his partner before replying, “She’s been informed of the incident, ma’am. I was unable to contact her directly, but I’ve left a message. I think she and Detective Jackson are out on another call.”

  “Thank you, Officer. That explains it.” Zhou Li snatched the completed copy of the form directly from the officer the minute he tore it off from the original. “I’ll take that!” Responding to his surprised look, she added, “I am Mr. Bailey’s attorney and will be handling things with the property management company and the insurance people.”

  The officer looked from her to the business owner, and quickly decided whose side he’d take. “Yes, ma’am.” He signaled his partner and they went back to the patrol car.

  “Madame Zhou, I appreciate your help, but I can’t let you handle all of that.”

  “You will let me handle this. If I am not mistaken, you have other, more pressing matters to take care of today. I am quite capable of handling the property management company. I have a small amount of influence with them, so you don’t need to worry about a thing. Now, why don’t you call SarahJune, and ask her to round up the rest of the staff and start the clean-up? If she should have questions or require instruction on the best way to remove paint, she need only ask. I will be just across the street.” Before Toby could think of any reply, much less a suitable one, Zhou Li turned her back and solicited Moon’s help to step down from the curb.

  Three hours later, he was up on a step stool scraping the last of the pink paint from the windows, and thinking about his earlier trip to the morgue. The transfer of Geri’s remains had been seamless and he’d watched as the funeral company staff respectfully loaded the bag-covered body into the waiting hearse. When the doors closed on the transport and it drove away, he followed its progress until the dark vehicle made a right hand turn and vanished from view, providing him only one brief, last glimpse of sun gleaming off the chrome. He raised a hand in farewell. “You’ll be home soon, Geri.”

  Bright sparkles reflecting off of small water droplets caught on the window brought him back to the present, where he stood on the stool with a paint scraper in his hand. Toby looked into the window’s reflecting glass and caught sight of SarahJune and a couple of the spa gang finishing up their work on the sidewalk. All that remained of the dancing dicks was a mottled swirl of soft color which reminded him of a child’s chalk drawing partially washed away by rain. “I think we’ve done all we can here, boss,” SarahJune advised him as she stood up from her handiwork.

  “It looks much better.” Toby stepped back to the curb in order to view the entire façade of the spa.

  The windows were clean and the sidewalk was colorful, but better than it had been. The brickwork still needed work, but there were only a couple of legible letters left, along with a pieces and parts of others. “At least you can’t make out what it said this morning,” he commented, bending down to help SarahJune gather the wash bucket and empty spray cans and catching a whiff of the orange scented detergent they’d used. “And it smells good”

  “Bet that’s the first time you’ve ever said a downtown sidewalk smells good!”

  They all laughed, a little, and headed inside to wash up.

  Grams called a few hours later to tell him the local funeral home had received the body and was preparing it for the burial on Saturday. “I told them it would be closed coffin,” she said. “I want to remember Geri as I last saw him, not as he must look now. I hope that was okay, Toby.”

  “You did exactly right, Grams,” he assured her as he began to turn off the lights in the spa. “I should be there a little after noon tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you. You be safe on the drive down here.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I will. Love you.”

  He hung up the call and put the phone back into his packet. “I haven’t left my phone anywhere this week,” he reflected as he locked up his office. “Maybe I’m cured of that bad habit.”

  As he exited the front door he was met by Detective Jackson. Toby could see Detective Reightman talking on her phone by the side of the car. “Mr. Bailey,” Jackson greeted him. “We heard about the incident and thought we should stop by to check on things.”

  “Thanks, Detective Jackson. I think we’ve done about all we can to put things to rights. There’s still some work to be done on the brick, but the cleaning crew will take a stab while they’re working on the rest of the place.”

  “Any idea of who might have done this?” Jackson asked.

  “No, I don’t have a clue who he might have been.”

  “He? Why do you think it was a man, Mr. Bailey?”

  Toby thought over all of the observations he’d made to himself that morning before he answered. “Because of the height of the paint. I figure whoever did this was a little over the average height of a full grown man. There are a few women who might be that tall I guess, but not many.”

  Jackson smiled in response to the explanation. “That’s a sound observation, Mr. Bailey. An
ything else you noticed?”

  “Well, I think he – the person who did this – was right handed.”

  Sam was curious now. “Why did you come to that conclusion?”

  “Well, Detective Jackson, I noticed the way the writing kind of sloped down like – here let me show you.” Toby walked to the door and demonstrated: “See, if I was holding the paint can in my right hand and started here,” Toby indicted the remnants of the first letter remaining on the brick, “and then walked to the right while spraying the paint, my arm naturally lowers.” Jackson watched carefully as Toby demonstrated how he envisioned the painting was done. “But,” the young man walked back to his originally position from the door, “if I was holding the can in my left hand and walked to the right while painting, my hand holding the paint wants to lift slightly because of the angle that I would have to use to write the letters.”

  “That’s an interesting observation, Mr. Bailey.”

  Toby hesitated before asking, “Do you think I’ve got it wrong, Detective?”

  Jackson gave him a measured look before offering a smile. “No. In fact, I think you’re exactly right, and that’s what makes it interesting. Most people would have never thought it out the way you did.” Jackson continued his appraisal of the earnest young man. “Did you pick up on anything else? Anything from the sidewalk?”

  Toby answered more quickly this time, having more confidence in his deductions after Jackson’s comment. “Other than illustrating – sorry for the bad pun – the sidewalk artist’s exaggerated importance of the male anatomy, everything about the pictures on the sidewalk makes me suspect the person was a man. First of all, few women would draw a di…a penis that big, and the…members were all facing the same way, pointing to the right. A left handed person would’ve made them face the opposite way.” Toby thought of something else, but then decided he’d already shared more with the Detective than the man was likely to find entertaining,