by Thomas Scott
“Why two shooters?”
“It’s the sequence. I’ve been going over it in my head. First I heard a pop, then another pop before I heard the cycle action. Then there were two more pops closer together and two fast ratcheting sounds. So that means one shot from something, a rifle maybe, that doesn’t cycle. Something with a bolt action? I’ll tell you something else too, the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that the first pop sounded different—quieter—than the rest. So, two victims, two guns, two shooters…if I’m right.”
“Sounds right. But, you know, if you heard it wrong, missed the first ratchet because you weren’t listening for it…”
“No, I wondered about that. I don’t think I missed it. It was quiet this morning. I was quiet. And I was close.”
“Okay. You can write it up later. Right now you’re going in to get checked out.”
She raised her eyebrow at him, then let it go. “You think this is about the governor?”
“Have you met Pearson yet?” Virgil said.
“The governor’s chief of staff? Yeah, we met a few days ago. Hell of a guy.”
“He is. Anyway, McConnell and Pearson made it clear this had nothing to do with them, or at least they don’t want it to look like it did.”
“And you think different?”
“I like to keep an open mind. The governor asked about you, by the way.”
“Yeah?” Sandy said.
“Yeah. Twice. Say, I didn’t see Mrs. McConnell up at the house. Where’s she?”
Sandy let her eyelids drop a quarter inch. “She’s been out of town for the last few days. She’s got a sister in Oregon, I think…or something like that.”
“I see.”
“I don’t think you do, Jonesy.”
Virgil bit the inside corner of his lower lip, then said, “Get checked out, Small. You did good. Really.”
She just stared at him.
Virgil looked around until he saw Metro Homicide’s lead detective, Ron Miles, speaking with one of the crime scene techs just outside the tent covering Dugan’s body. Ron’s white hair was mussed out of place and he kept running his hand over it, trying to flatten it to the top of his head. The knees on his pants were covered in dirt and grime.
“Sorry about Burns, Jonesy. Somebody told me he was your training officer?”
“Yeah, he was.”
“So, the state getting in on this?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Virgil said. “Mac wants us to take a peek. See if we can get in front of it sort of quick. We’ll probably just shadow you guys. See what we can see.”
“In other words, we do all the work and you guys get all the credit.”
“Nope. You can have the credit. Like I said, we just want to try to get in front of it, if we can.”
“Doesn’t look like it’s going to be easy. We don’t have jack-shit on this one.”
“Tell me what you’ve got so far.”
“You spoke with Sandy?”
“Just now.”
“Okay,” Miles said. “Well, there’s that, and not much else. Not yet anyway, and most of it’s speculation at this point. One of the techs found the slug, or I guess I should say what was left of the slug that took Burns out. It cracked the front window, but didn’t penetrate. It ricocheted off the window and imbedded in the top of the dash. He says it looks like it was probably from a .223, but he says he can’t be sure until they get it back to the lab for tests.”
“What about Dugan?”
“One to the head, two in the chest. Coroner says he’ll get what’s left of the slug fragments when he does the post. There’s some tattooing on his skull from the powder burns, so it was up close and personal.” Miles pulled the tent flap back and they stepped inside. As bad as Burns looked, Dugan was somehow worse. He ended up flat on his back, his arms out at his sides, like a kid ready to make a snow angel. One of his slippers had fallen off his foot and was lying next to his hip. They both looked at Dugan for a full minute then stepped back outside the tent. “Jesus,” Virgil said to no one in particular.
“Yeah,” Miles said.
“So, what do you think about Sandy’s take? Two shooters?”
“I think it works. Dugan was close. Foot, foot and a half. Burns wasn’t. So, if Sandy’s got the timing right, there must have been two. I mean, how do you shoot from a distance with one weapon and then take another weapon and run over and pop someone up close? Or better yet, why? That doesn’t add up.”
“What if she heard it wrong?”
Miles flattened his hair with his palm. “Well, I just don’t think she did. Plus, I’ll tell you something, even if she did hear it wrong and there was only one shooter, what’s he gonna do? Take out Dugan up close and then run away with Burns just sitting there? That doesn’t work. And neither does taking out Burns first from a distance and then walking up and popping Dugan. So I think she’s on the money. Two shooters, two weapons, all at the same time.”
They talked it over for a few more minutes running through different variations on the theme, but in the end, Sandy’s scenario held up.
“Okay, keep doing what you’re doing here,” Virgil said. “I’m going to work a specific angle, but I want you to run this by the numbers. Let’s not let anything fall through the cracks.”
“Like I ever do. You know who’s got the best closure rate in Metro, right?”
“Yeah, I know. So do what you do.”
“I intend to. So, what’s the angle?”
Virgil hesitated for a second. “Uh, it’s sort of complicated. Cora’s got us looking at something.”
Miles looked away for a moment as if studying something off in the distance. “Well, I’ll keep you updated with whatever we find,” he said.
“Do that,” Virgil said as he took one last look around. “I’m heading out. Find us something, Ron. I need a thread to pull on.”
“Don’t hold your breath, Jonesy. This one feels like we could get our asses kicked.” Then, “Is this about McConnell?”
“Have you ever met Bradley Pearson?”
“Isn’t he the governor’s chief weenie? I heard he’s sort of a snake…”
6
Virgil drove over to the hospital and walked into the Emergency Department and when he did his gun set off the metal detector at the doorway. He was about to badge the security guard headed his way until he noticed it was a friend of his from the Marion County Sheriff’s Department. “Hey Kev. Double dipping these days?” They shook hands.
“Are you kidding me? My oldest daughter is getting married this spring, and the twins start college in a year and a half. If I didn’t have to sleep, I’d be triple dipping.”
“Amber’s getting married?”
Kevin scratched the back of his head. “Yep, she sure is.”
“Getting old, Kev.”
“Huh, tell me. I don’t have much time to think about it though. Too busy trying to make enough money to pay for the wedding.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
The deputy’s face lit up. “Ah, she hit the jackpot, man. One of the docs here. Hell of a good kid, just out of med school. Matter of fact, that’s how I got this gig.”
Sandy came around the corner and walked over to where Virgil and Kevin stood.
“All done?” Virgil said.
“Haven’t even started yet,” Sandy said. “There was some sort of big wreck out on 465. They’re backed up, so I’m just waiting. Supposed to be next.” She looked at Kevin and stuck her hand out. “Hi. I’m Sandy Small, the best thing that’s ever happened to Virgil and his team.”
The deputy laughed and shook her hand. “I’ll bet you are. I’m Kevin Campbell. It’s a pleasure.” Kevin lowered his voice and leaned in toward Sandy. “You know, I wanted a spot on Virgil’s team, but they wouldn’t have me.”
Sandy looked at Virgil. “Why not?”
“Not mean enough,” he said.
“Fuck you, not mean enough,” Kevin said. “I’ve forgo
tten more about mean than you’ll ever know.” Then to Sandy: “Pardon my French, little lady.”
“Fuck your French,” Sandy said.
“See,” Virgil said. “Mean like that.”
Sandy made a pfftt noise with her lips. “You don’t know the half of it.” Virgil wasn’t quite sure what she meant, but before he could say anything a nurse came through the doorway and said, “The doctor will see you now.”
Kevin said his goodbyes and the nurse escorted Sandy down the hall. Virgil followed, looking for a waiting area, but before he knew it the three of them ended up behind one of the curtained areas the nurse identified as bed eight. Inside was a wheeled hospital bed with the back raised to a forty-five degree angle, a chair, a stand-up closet and a small stainless steel sink and counter. The nurse reached into the closet next to the bed, handed Sandy a gown, told her she could leave her underwear on, and that the doctor would be right in. She pulled the curtain closed and left Virgil and Sandy standing there, alone. Sandy held the gown and looked at Virgil with an evil grin on her face, but then she gave her index finger a little twirl and said, “No sneaking a look, Jonesy. I mean it.”
“How about I just go back out to the waiting room?”
Sandy ignored his question and started to undress. Virgil turned around, but didn’t leave. “That guard was something else, huh?” she said.
“Yeah, he was,” Virgil was studying the pattern on the curtain, listening to the sounds of the emergency room, watching the feet of the hospital staff and other patients shuffle by the bottom of the curtain. He also listened to Sandy undress. Heard her shoes as she kicked them off, a little static electricity from her shirt as she pulled it over her head, and finally the zipper being lowered on her jeans and the sound of the denim sliding against her skin as she wriggled out of her pants.
“Okay, I’m decent. You can turn around now.”
When Virgil looked at her he saw the threadbare hospital gown pulled tight across her front, the fullness of her breasts, her nipples pressing against the thin fabric.
Sandy turned her back toward him and faced the bed, the back of the gown held closed with her hand. She looked over her shoulder and said, “Help a girl out, will you? I couldn’t get the ties.” She looked forward while letting go of the back of the gown. Virgil watched it fall open and felt himself swallow. He could hear his own heartbeat as he let his eyes follow the shape of her shoulder blades inward toward her spine, then down to her waistline. A small tribal tattoo peeked out of the top of a black thong that rode high on her thin waist, covering almost nothing of what was at least the second best ass Virgil had ever seen in his life.
“Come on, Jonesy. Tie me up. I’m feeling a draft here.”
Virgil cleared his throat without meaning to. “Yeah, sorry.” He stepped up close to her, and tied the top tie first. The front of her thighs were against the side of the bed and part of the gown was trapped so he had to actually open the bottom part and tug on it a little to release the material. The back of his hand brushed up against her ass and when it did he felt like a schoolboy trying to cop a cheap feel. Virgil was about a foot taller than Sandy, and he fumbled the knot on the first try, the angle awkward.
“Come on Cowboy, you can do it. Just make two bunny ears and wrap one around the other and pull it through.”
“No, no it’s not that. It’s the angle. I’m taller.”
Sandy placed her palms on the edge of the bed and stood on her tiptoes and arched the small of her back. “Better?”
You’ve no idea, Virgil said to himself.
“What was that?” Sandy said.
When she went up on her toes, Virgil immediately upgraded his assessment from second best to all time best. Without question. He finished the knot. “Nothing. There you go. I’m, uh, going to go wait outside now.”
Sandy didn’t say anything and Virgil didn’t move, and he was just beginning to wonder what would happen if he…but then the curtain was yanked back and a tall, good-looking doctor stepped in the room and smiled. His hair was pure white, but there were no lines on his face. His solid black eye glasses were a sharp contrast to his hair color and it gave him a dramatic flair. He wore traditional green scrubs under a white knee-length lab coat. His clog-style shoes looked like they were made of wood and cork with suede tops. The doctor looked at them and said, “Looks like I got here just in time.” He took his pen out of his pocket, tapped it on the clipboard he was holding, then pointed to the ceiling at the corner of the room. They all looked up and saw the security camera. “Two of my nurses just went on break. One of them is getting married in a month. I’m the groom’s best man. They said something about it was getting hot in here. So, how can I help you, young lady?”
This time Virgil did leave the room, and a half hour later Sandy and the doc emerged as well. The doctor pulled a card from his breast pocket and wrote something on the back then handed it to Sandy, shaking her hand in both of his before walking away. Virgil thought the doc held her hand a little longer than necessary.
A few minutes later they were in Virgil’s truck. He started the engine and looked over at Sandy. “What’d the doctor say?”
“He said I was fine, and he meant it, too. He gave me his number. Seemed like a nice guy.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out his card, placing it on the console between the seats. “He said if you don’t have enough sense to see what you’re missing, I should give him a call. What do you think?”
“He was a pretty good looking guy. He sort of had that distinguished doctor thing going for him,” Virgil said as he dropped the truck into gear and pulled out onto the street. “Probably makes about a million a year, if that kind of thing matters to you.”
“You think I should call him? Or would that be too forward?”
“I should probably get you home,” Virgil said, ignoring her question. “You know, doctor’s orders, and all.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. You didn’t answer my question though. What do you think? Should I call him?”
Virgil picked up the card, looked at it for a second, tore it in half and tossed it out the window. “You must have hit your head harder than you thought. You’re clearly not thinking straight.”
Sandy laughed and watched the card slip away into the wind. Virgil thought it was the best laugh he’d ever heard.
“I memorized the number,” Sandy said.
“My ass, you did.”
“Already entered it into my cell phone.”
“Uh huh.”
“I did. Want to see?”
“Want to hand me your phone before I roll the window back up?” Like that, all the way to Sandy’s.
Twenty minutes later they were at her place. Virgil walked her to the door and by the time they got there he could see the adrenaline wearing off. There was an awkward moment at the door, then Sandy stood on her toes and kissed him—quick—right on the corner of his lips. “I’ll get with you after I rest for a while, okay?”
“How about tomorrow?” Virgil said. Then he pulled her close and hugged her for just a moment before turning around and heading for his truck. When he looked back she was already inside.
7
When Virgil got back in his truck he saw that he had a message waiting for him on his cell. It was Rosencrantz, telling him Dugan’s office was sealed and his computer was already on the way back to the lab for processing. Rosencrantz and Donatti were the other two members of Virgil’s team. He’d hired both away from the city, Rosencrantz from Sex, and Donatti from Homicide. Virgil hit the speed dial button and Rosencrantz answered on the third ring. He sounded bored.
“Uh, listen, you guys haven’t beaten anyone up or anything, have you?” Virgil said.
“Hey, boss, come on,” Rosie said. “Give us a little credit. We’re highly trained investigators. Besides, I haven’t beaten anyone up for over a week.”
“Uh huh.”
“If you were thinking about getting something to eat before coming over, don’t b
other. When they heard the boss was dead someone made an executive decision and catered in about ten grand worth of food. We’ve interviewed Dugan’s secretary, the entire executive team and their secretaries as well. Everybody except the executive committee is walking around here bumping into each other like a bunch of zombies or something. Nobody has any useful information and there’s a ton of food here that’s going to go bad if someone doesn’t start eating. I’m thinking maybe I should take some home with me. In fact, you know that Crime Scene tech, big Al, the one that weighs in around two eighty or so? I saw him fill four or five evidence bags with Swedish meatballs and bacon-wrapped shrimp before he left. The bottom line is the only real thing I’ve learned so far is that no one uses the word ‘secretary’ anymore. They prefer ‘executive assistant.’ Who knew?”
Virgil thought for a moment then said, “Didn’t you go to New Orleans last year?”
“Two years ago, but yeah. I got you that Ragin’ Cajun T-shirt, remember?”
“Sure. You flew down, right? How were the stewardesses?”
“Fine I guess. I don’t really remember. Why do you ask?”
“Never mind,” Virgil said.
Two blocks away from Sandy’s, Virgil realized he didn’t know where the Sunrise Bank headquarters were located. He pulled over to the curb and tried to Google the address but the signal wasn’t strong enough and he didn’t have the patience to wait. He called Rosencrantz again.
“What’s the address over there. I tried the Google and it wouldn’t come up. I don’t know where I’m going.”
“You know,” Rosie said, “I’m not exactly sure. Donatti drove. I was sleeping.”
“Well, find someone and ask will you?”
“Don’t need to. I’m standing right next to his secretary.” Then: “Ouch, hey, that’s assault on a police officer. Okay, okay.” Rosencrantz cleared his throat. “What I meant to say was, I’m standing right next to his executive assistant. I’ve got the address. You got a pen?”
