Don't Say a Word (12 page)
“I take it that Jasper likes it, too?”
That got Will another brief, sidelong smile. “He’s in hog heaven. I could barely get him out of bed this morning, he slept so well. He’s not a morning dog, you see. But Cathy raises service dogs. German shepherds and Akitas. So he’ll probably play with them all afternoon.”
By the time they reached the gate of Lockhart’s house, the media was out in full force. Satellite trucks lined the shady street, and attractive newscasters were all over the place, primping and preening before they appeared on camera for the morning update. Nothing like a sensational murder to draw them like flies. Will flashed his badge to the Lockhart security guard stationed at the entrance and waited for the electronic gate to slowly swing open.
“Is Mrs. Lockhart here?” Will asked the officer.
“No, she couldn’t take the media barrage, so she said she was going to spend the night with one of her friends.”
“Which friend?”
The question amused the guard. He was a young guy, blond hair cut in a military buzz, wraparound sunglasses, and a black polo shirt and black pants. He looked like an off-duty Marine. “Mrs. Lockhart doesn’t tell us common folk anything. Just open and close the gate and keep your mouth shut. That’s what she told us to do.”
Will wasn’t exactly surprised. Iris Lockhart would not win any Miss Congeniality satin sashes. The woman was more than unlikable—verging on contemptible, in Will’s book. But he did wonder if that friend of hers was male or female. The judge had had his share of women on the side. He had a feeling that Icy Iris did, too. It was something else to check out.
“What about the housemaid? Maria Bota. Did she and her son go with Mrs. Lockhart?”
The guard shrugged. “Who knows? If she did, I didn’t see her. The limousine has dark-tinted windows.”
“Thanks. Good luck with the news morons. They’ll eat you alive if they get a chance.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“You think Iris might have taken herself a lover?” Julia asked the minute Will rolled up his window, obviously homing in on the same track as Will. That was happening a lot nowadays.
“It’s possible, if she could actually find somebody who could stomach her.”
Julia’s laugh was genuine and amused. “Maybe she has this slow-witted lover boy who whacked her husband while she established a convenient alibi way down yonder in the Pelican State.”
Will couldn’t stop his grin. But he ended it pretty damn quick.
Keep it professional
, he told himself. Arm’s length at all times. “That’s something we’ll need to check out,” he said seriously, ignoring her attempt at humor.
Keep it professional
, he told himself. Arm’s length at all times. “That’s something we’ll need to check out,” he said seriously, ignoring her attempt at humor.
Pulling up under the columned porte cochere, Will and Julia got out and walked down along the east side of the house. Unlike the day they’d first found the body, today it was extremely quiet and the property was deserted. The morning air was still cool, some of the shaded shrubs still wet with dew, and the soothing chirps and whistles of birds rustling around high up in the oak trees were the only sounds. They walked past the pool and came upon the crime scene, which was still taped off, dark smudges from the TBI fingerprinting process still noticeable. The judge’s mutilated body was gone, moved downtown to the morgue. Will wondered again, for the thousandth time, what kind of monster could do such a horrific mutilation, and a better question: Why?
“If this murder is gang-related,” Julia said softly, no doubt affected by the depth of the stillness, “what was the motive? Because the judge helped Maria by giving her a job and a place to live? Seems to me they would just take her out as a warning to others and not risk murdering a federal judge. That’s not going to help a criminal gang stay under the radar.”
“I know. Unless they just wanted to scare her and he got in the way.”
“Which they did. She’s scared to death. But if she’s a traitor, why leave her alive instead of making an example out of her? Why didn’t they kill both of them?”
“Good question.”
When they reached the guesthouse out back, Will rapped a knuckle on the door, and then stood back to one side. He put his hand on his weapon strapped to his belt. He noticed that Julia did the same. She had all the procedures down pat, and Will was feeling more comfortable about her instincts with every hour that passed. More so than with some of his fellow TBI guys. He hated to say it, but some of them didn’t always follow procedures as precisely as they should. Something told him that Julia might have run into an unwelcome and dangerous surprise sometime in her past law enforcement career. Not that she exhibited fear or reluctance, just good common sense and caution. Which was a good way to be. That’s the way he was, the way he had been since that long-ago day when his life had changed forever.
No answer came from inside. Will reached out and tried the handle. It gave, and he pushed it inward. Iris Lockhart had given them permission to search the property the day they’d interviewed her. The living room was empty. He called out to the maid.
“Maria, are you here? We need to talk to you.”
His voice died in the complete silence until they heard a distant shout from somebody from the media installed outside on the street.
“Nobody’s home. Let’s toss the place and see what we can find,” Julia suggested.
The two of them entered with guns drawn,
Law & Order
–style. No sounds from inside the house, but the interior of Maria Bota’s apartment was no longer neat and orderly. Now it looked as if a whirlwind had barreled through it at a hundred miles per hour. Drawers were open, many empty, others with clothing hanging out. Inside the bedrooms the sheets were disheveled, and the dirty dishes still sat unwashed in the kitchen sink.
Law & Order
–style. No sounds from inside the house, but the interior of Maria Bota’s apartment was no longer neat and orderly. Now it looked as if a whirlwind had barreled through it at a hundred miles per hour. Drawers were open, many empty, others with clothing hanging out. Inside the bedrooms the sheets were disheveled, and the dirty dishes still sat unwashed in the kitchen sink.
Julia opened the door to the second bedroom. “It looks to me like she took her son and left here in a big hurry.”
“She’s on the run, all right.”
Will pulled out his cell phone and put out a nationwide BOLO on the woman and her child. They needed to find Maria ASAP and see why she was running and from whom, and if she did know who killed Lucien Lockhart. “I’m going to check out the Battle Street gang members around here, see what they know about Maria.”
Julia nodded. “You want me to go with you? One thing I’d like to check out is the scales left at the scene. They’re unusual. Maybe I can get a lead on the killer if I find out where he got them.”
“Good idea.”
“What about the lab? Have you heard anything from the medical examiner yet?”
“Yeah. Phil Hayes gets things done. Death was by hanging: asphyxiation. The other wounds were made before he died. They’re still doing tests on the body. This case is priority, trust me. Dead federal judges wake up people downtown, big-time.”
“The coins mean something, and the killer left them for a reason. He’s sending us all kinds of messages, like the
ONE
on the floor. We’ve just got to figure them out.”
ONE
on the floor. We’ve just got to figure them out.”
“I hope something clicks soon. We’re getting nowhere.”
After Will dropped Julia off at the Charger, she drove home and took her laptop computer out onto the screened porch. The spacious and shady outdoor room had already become her favorite spot in the converted boathouse. Apparently, Jasper had settled in, too. He lay beside her on his side of the daybed, snoring slightly, very, very relaxed. She smiled and scratched his ears, but she was thinking about her research. Her Internet searches hadn’t gone so well, thus far. Julia was computer literate; she had a knack for electronics in general, something that came in handy in her line of work. She had asked forensics to blow up the photograph of the scales left at the scene. It was propped up against the lamp in front of her. So were all the other crime scene images.
The technicians had made close-ups of the parts of the scales: the chains, the two baskets, and the crossed-swords finial, but there was no manufacturer’s mark, no evidence of a maker, a date, or a place. She had already visited dozens of websites advertising similar scales, with no results. There was the possibility that the scales were cheap products brought in from overseas. The perp could have ground off all identifying marks, but there was no sign of that kind of abrasion.
Julia sighed and rested her eyes by gazing out at the water. It was really pretty here on the Axelrod family’s neck of the river. She felt good about the move so far. It had been a bit scary to pull up stakes and start all over again, but it was turning out all right. It was great to see her friends and J.D. Even Will Brannock was turning out to be less of a pain in the neck than she thought he’d be. He was different, all right, but he’d been on his best behavior. No longer did he appear to be that shallow woman-chaser that she had first branded him. He was serious about his work, a thoughtful and thorough investigator, and sometimes even halfway pleasant. Not the witty, fun-loving guy who’d driven her home from the airport that day. He had turned that off since they’d become partners. He was being professional. She admired that about him.
There was something else about him that she noticed right off, other than how good-looking he was. Unfortunately, she now readily admitted that Will Brannock was one hot hunk, but he was also closemouthed about himself and his life. Almost to the point of being secretive. There had to be a reason why. Otherwise, he seemed like a fairly normal guy. But he was always unnecessarily cautious: always looking around at his surroundings, at anybody who happened to be in the vicinity or approaching him, almost coiled and ready like some kind of big jungle cat, as if he expected trouble to come at him at any moment. Of course, all law enforcement officers feel that way most of the time. But something was up with Will, and she was curious to know what. She intended to find out, too.
Jasper snorted, then rolled up onto his feet and jumped off the bed, a sure indication she had company coming. His sense of hearing was almost as acute as his sense of smell. She watched the road, and it wasn’t long before Lonnie Axelrod showed up on the path edging the riverbank, with two of Cathy’s panting German shepherds.
“Hey, anybody home up there?” he called from out on the driveway.
“I’m working on the porch. C’mon in.”
Lonnie entered the door with the dogs, and Jasper ambled over to meet them, his tail wagging. Jasper was going to love all this canine companionship. He usually just had Julia to play with.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything important, Julia.”
“No, you’re fine. I’m just doing some research on my case.”
Julia hoped he didn’t ask her a bunch of questions about the Lockhart murder, because he wasn’t going to get anything out of her. To her surprise and pleasure, he didn’t broach the subject at all.
“I didn’t see your car come by, so I thought I’d take Jasper out for a run with Cody and Jack.”
“He’d love that. It’s a nice day for it.”
Lonnie glanced around. “How are you settling in down here?”
“Fine. This’s a great place. I really appreciate your generosity.”
“My mama loved this river, loved that dock down there. She liked to fish and go out in the boat. She was happiest when she was right here, enjoying the outdoors. And she did it till the very end.”
“I can see why. What’s Cathy up to today?”
“She’s down at the house, catching up on paperwork on the dogs. Charlie Sinclair’s coming by and picking up a couple of the dogs for shots and flea dips. You want him to take Jasper along for a treatment?”
“Yes, he’s due this month. When’s Charlie coming?”
“Sometime this afternoon. He’s out fishing today and said he’d drop by in his bass boat and pick up the dogs on his way home.”
“Wish I was out there with him.”
“Me too.”
Lonnie smiled at her, and after he’d taken the dogs and disappeared into the woods behind the boathouse, she settled back, this time in the porch swing with the laptop across her knees.
She pulled up the photos of the coins. The first photo showed them on the scale, stacked on top of each other in two neat piles. Fifteen each. Thirty dimes. Three dollars. What was the significance of thirty dimes? There had to be some kind of connection. Some kind of message or clue left behind for them. Julia picked up the second photograph, in which the coins had been laid in rows on a sheet of white typing paper at the lab. She studied it for a long time, then picked up the third picture, which duplicated the rows of dimes but with each turned to the opposite side. Nothing clicked. What the hell did it mean?
Standing up, she moved into the kitchen and got a cold can of 7UP out of the fridge. She popped the cap and stood looking around her new apartment. It never failed to amuse her, but in a good way, with all its antiques and antiquated machines, but it made her feel comfortable, too. There were pictures all around, and she picked up a frame with a photograph of a little old white-haired lady standing with Lonnie on the dock. His mother, she assumed, and she looked like quite a lady. She had on wading boots, a red-and-black plaid lumberjack shirt, and jeans. She had her hair pulled back in a bun. She reminded Julia of the granny in the old Tweety Bird cartoons. Lonnie had his arm around her shoulders and a great big smile on his face. Other photographs showed a younger Lonnie with a pretty young woman and two little kids, all holding fishing poles. The river had been a big part of his life. No wonder he refused all those lucrative offers to buy his property.
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