Beneath the Cracks (8 page)

Remorse was eroded by suspicion which
quickly evolved into genuine concern.  "Something is seriously
wrong, isn't it?  She's not leaving us, is she?  Oh
God.  I shouldn't have threatened to quit.  I should go
back right now –"

"She needs a little space right now. 
Don't push, okay?  She'll talk to you about this
eventually.  Right now, she's a little blind sided, that's
all.  That trust thing?  It's a two-way street,
Billy.  Maya trusts you too."

"She told you what's wrong."

I nodded.  "And she will tell everyone
else when she's had time to process it.  Right now, today…it's
not the right time."

"All right," he nodded solemnly.  "I'll
do what you asked."

Forsythe was a harder sell.

"That was nothing less than shades of Riley
Storm," he spat.  Riley Storm was probably the biggest insult
he could've thrown at someone of Maya's caliber of forensic
pathologist.  In fact, no one had mourned the loss of Dr.
Storm when Maya replaced him ten months ago.

"That was entirely uncalled for, Ken. 
You're going to apologize when she tells you what's happened. 
Until then, I'm not sure I want to consider you a friend."

He crossed his arms over his chest. 
"Let me see if I understand this correctly, Eriksson.  You're
down here apologizing for her and that's supposed to be good enough
to smooth things over after she basically called me an incompetent
fool?"

"I don't know what happened when you talked,
Ken.  I do know that sometimes when people are in certain
emotional states that the last people they want to hurt end up
being the brunt of things they don't understand simply because they
are in the wrong place at the wrong time.  She doesn't think
you're incompetent.  She told me the exact opposite the night
I met you."

"So why isn't she down here apologizing
herself?"

"It's serious," I said softly.  "Really
serious.  Like first stage of grief, Ken.  She needs her
friends to be there for her.  Please don't personalize what
happened upstairs.  Maya is going through something –"

"Serious," he muttered.  "Yeah, you
mentioned it."

"If you didn't care about her, you wouldn't
be so upset by her behavior," I tried to reason with him, but the
wall seemed firmly entrenched.  "I'm not asking you to forget,
or even not to expect an apology from her personally.  I'm
just asking you to keep the door open and listen to her when she's
ready to talk."

It was all I could do to mend the
bridges.  I hoped it would be enough.

Chapter 7

Her eyes were still bloodshot, but the red
blotches on her cheeks were ivory again, and the swelling in Maya's
nose was considerably less.  Nothing like cold water to
restore emotional balance to the feminine façade.

Briscoe was uncharacteristically
obedient.  He kept his questions focused on the case. 
"What've you got for us, Maya?"  No snarling.  No
Winslow
thrown out like an epithet. 

Good to know that I could still put the fear
of jujitsu in people.

"We got a hit on the fingerprint.  Our
victim was not homeless.  In fact, he lived in Bay
View."  Maya pulled a printout from the file and handed it to
him.  "Although I can't fathom what a guy with a pricey
address was doing dressed like a bum in Downey.  His name is
Jacob Cox, forty-one years old as of the fourth of July, and as I
suspected I would find at the crime scene last night, he was in
exceptional health.  Had he not been murdered, the guy
could've lived to be a hundred."

"Cause of death?"

"This is the big surprise," Maya said. 
She whipped back the drape on the corpse lying on the table. 
"He did not have a dissected diaphragm.  Mr. Cox died of an
overdose, the initial screen positive for methamphetamine."

"I thought you said this guy was in perfect
health.  How the hell –"

I shot Briscoe a warning glare.

"Uh, what makes you think he ain't a meth
addict, on account of him bein' so healthy otherwise?"

"No track marks."  Maya pointed to both
arms, the backs of his hands, his feet.  The telltale signs of
chronic drug injections caused by scarring of the veins which
resulted in dark "tracks" were glaringly absent.  Only two
puncture marks were visible near his left wrist, in what was once a
prominent vein.  "This guy does however have evidence of
ligature restraint on both wrists and ankles.  From the type
of abrasion, the width and depth of tissue damage, I'd say it is
consistent with shackles or handcuffs.  His overdose was not
accidental, nor was he an even casual user of drugs."

"How can you tell that for sure?" Crevan
asked.

"His heart muscle.  Methamphetamine
users can quickly damage the cardiac muscle.  While I have no
doubt that his specific dose of methamphetamine was high enough to
induce cardiac arrest, there were no signs of chronic damage we see
in habitual use in an addiction.  That aside, how many people
do you know who cuff themselves before shooting up,
detective?  Did you miss the part where he was forcibly
restrained shortly before he died?"

"Could've been some sex thing," Briscoe
shrugged.  "I thought this was one of them drugs that makes
people uh…horny, I guess.  But you're sayin' this cause of
death don't link him to our other victims."

I shook my head, followed exactly where Maya
had led us.  Maybe I'd rattled them a little more than I
intended and made them focus on the wrong thing.  "The case
files you sent me indicated that these previous murders were low
profile, Tony.  Which page in the papers were any details made
available to the press?"

"They weren't in the papers," Crevan
said.  "Nobody inquired about dead homeless guys.  The
press wasn't interested."

"And nobody knew about our dumpster boys
'cept for the people that put 'em there," Tony quickly
followed.  "Shit."

My mind leapt back in time a little more
than twelve hours while my heart sank.  "Shit is right. 
Orion told me he has somebody undercover working this case."

"Well hell's bells, Helen!  Why didn't
you say somethin' sooner?" Briscoe growled.  He had his phone
out, thumb dialing when I snatched it from his hand.  "What in
the hell did you do that for?"

"Johnny told me the man's first name." 
I paused and glanced at the body on the table with Maya's neatly
closed Y incision.  "He called him Jake."

Crevan's hands rested on his hips, face
uplifted toward the ceiling.  "You're saying that this is
Johnny's undercover, that this case just graduated from John Doe
victims nobody cared about enough to miss to a murdered cop."

"We won't know that for sure 'til Dr.
Smarty-Pants gives me the phone so I can call Johnny."

"I think we should contact Darnell," I
said.

"
What
?"  Three protests instead
of the two I expected.

"I'm saying that we should contact Darnell
to confirm.  Very few people know about Johnny's status with
OSI.  If we really have a dead state detective, how do you
think he'll react?  He'll demand to be in the thick of this
case, just like he did when his friend Gwen Foster was
murdered.  Our case against Jerry Lowe is seriously hampered
because Orion still has to keep his identity with OSI
protected.  It'll be a hell of a lot easier to proceed if we
call Darnell and explain why Orion can't come near this case."

"She makes a good point," Maya said. 
"I know how close you two are to Orion.  Hell, we all like the
guy, but this'll be a minefield with the press.  What if they
notice Orion is involved in the investigation?  He's a private
citizen as far as the rest of the world is concerned.  With
Foster, it was different.  She was an old family friend. 
He was the one who found the body."

"Wild horses ain't gonna keep him outta this
case, Eriksson.  Undercover or not, Johnny will be part of
this investigation."

I was certain Briscoe was right, but counted
on Darnell being able to reason with Orion.  "We've got to at
least try."

"Let me have the phone," Briscoe said. 
"I'll call Darnell."

"Give me the number," I said.

"This is my case, Eriksson.  I seem to
recall you tossin' back the badge George Hardy gave you in
June.  You was done with this stuff, remember?"

"Tony, don't do that," Maya said.  "If
this victim really is a dead police detective, you're going to need
Helen's help more than ever.  Think about this
rationally.  Someone killed five homeless men – and when they
realized that the police do give a damn about it, they were willing
to murder a cop to halt the investigation."

Briscoe rattled off the phone number, and I
made the call.

Darnell darkened the doorway of the morgue
in less than ten minutes.  Sweat dotted his brow, and I could
hear the wheeze of air pushing past his windpipe.  "Son of a
bitch," was all he said for a good five minutes.

Finally, I spoke.  "Commander Darnell,
does this man have family that needs to be notified?"

He nodded.  "I'll take care of
it.  Jake's folks are in Montgomery.  He relocated out
here when OSI opened almost two years ago.  Dammit."

"I've agreed to stay on and help close this
case," I announced the decision Briscoe and Conall hadn't heard
yet.  "We'll catch whoever did this to him.  I don't care
how long it takes."

He nodded.  "I appreciate that,
Helen."

"This case will attract media
attention.  I don't think we should avoid it completely," I
said.  "A police detective is dead.  Maya has listed
cause of death as a drug overdose."

"Homicide, not accidental," she clarified
beyond the cause.

"What I'd like to propose is that we hold
back as many details as possible, including
manner
of
death.  If we release that it’s just another John Doe, that
it’s being investigated by Downey Division, whoever killed him
won't be as wary as he would if it comes out immediately that this
was a murdered cop.  There will be less questions if the
public believes a homeless man was found dead from a
methamphetamine overdose."

"I agree," Darnell stared at the body
without turning away.  "Given the lack of interest in the
previous homeless men’s deaths this year, it’ll keep the case off
the radar.  I’ll stress to the family the need to keep other
details quiet for the time being.  You can be certain that
Jake will be honored fully by the department either way."

"What we absolutely cannot do is reveal his
identity to the media or given any hint that Jake was undercover
for OSI or that his death is related to the homeless murder cases,
or that he died working in Darkwater Bay."

"We'll keep his name completely out of any
release, Helen."

"And I need your assurance that you'll keep
Johnny Orion as far away from this investigation as possible."

It jerked Darnell's attention away from his
dead detective.  "I have no authority to tell Johnny what he
can and cannot do, Helen.  You know that."

"In this case, if you have to go over his
head, I think you should do it."

"Why?"

"Because the press will be all over this if
anything gets leaked to them, and that’s always a
possibility.  And if Orion wants to remain covert, he cannot
be part of the investigation.  He skated by with Gwen Foster
because there was a logical link between him and that case."

"Are you sure that's the only reason you
don't want to work with him again?"

Men
.  Gossips.  I looked
down and rolled my eyes in a private moment of disgust at Orion's
big mouth.  "This is about solving the case with the least
amount of outside interference possible, commander."

"And Johnny is interference?"  His
voice pitched sharply.

"No, but the questions that the press would
inevitably ask about his involvement are.  If his work
undercover isn't integral to OSI, perhaps he should simply announce
his true role in the organization right now.  Then he'll have
the green light to investigate right along side us."

Darnell frowned.  Point taken
apparently.  He cleared his throat.  "I can make sure
you've got access to whatever Jake reported to Johnny regarding his
investigation.  I'm not sure the last time he gave a status
report."

"Two weeks ago," I said.  "He mentioned
it last night after Tony called and asked for my help on the
case.  Johnny told me that he talked to Jake, his undercover
officer, two weeks ago."

Darnell's mouth twisted downward, but
whatever he thought of Orion's loose lips remained unspoken. 
It seemed I was trustworthy enough to break bread with on occasion,
but not enough to know the identity of one of OSI's undercover
detectives. 

"In any case, we'll need that file as soon
as possible," I said.  "If you'd prefer that it come directly
to my fax machine rather than possibly being intercepted by someone
not directly involved in this case at Downey Division, that's
fine.  I have a feeling Briscoe, Conall and I will be joined
at the hip for the duration."

Maya's eyes widened.

"Except for tomorrow.  I have a prior
commitment that cannot be changed."

Darnell turned to the actual
detectives.  "I trust I don't have to ask that you keep me
abreast of any developments, gentlemen."

It irritated me that he cut me out of the
investigation the way he did, but at the same time, part of me was
relieved to remain as far from OSI as humanly possible. 
Buried in work Saturday night had kept the dissection of Orion's
kiss from happening.  My nerves relived the moment standing in
Maya's autopsy bay.  Knees wanted to buckle. 
Again.  I gripped the edge of the table.