Marcie's Murder (7 page)

“That’s the guy. Tall,
has a beard
. Could have been him.”

“
That c
ould have been
who
the d
etective here saw this morning,” Askew agreed, “but tell me this: when was the last time you saw a
guru
monk from a religious monastery hanging around a dump like Gerry’s
at
mid
night?”

Branham said nothing.

“And when was the last time that guy in the cell
back there
was seen hanging around a dump like Gerry’s
at
mid
night?”

“
Baker
could have been the guy
Pete
saw
,
”
Branham said.

“I’ll be in my office
.
”
This time,
Askew left.

“He always this blockheaded?” Karen asked.

“He’s a good man
and a good cop, and he just lost his wife. Cut him some slack.”

“You’re right. Sorry.”
Karen was silent a moment. “The guy should be recused from the case if it’s his wife.”

Branham stared into his coffee cup and set it aside with distaste.
“He and I already had that conversation. It was short and ugly.”

“
This Baker guy
,” Karen
said, “is worth tracking down
.
”

“I know
.
”

“Didn’t I hear you
’ve got
a detective
around here
? Isn’t that what he’s for? Detecting stuff? Why don’t you send him to this garden place to check out the monk?”

Branham
shook his head
. “
I doubt he’s available at the moment
.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means he’s not available, Detective,” Branham said curtly.

“Then I’ll go.”

“The hell you will.”

“Then you go.”

“I
’ve
got work to do.”

“You
’ve
got a killer to catch
.
”

Branham
sighed
. “
Yeah, y
ou’re right. I’ll go. It’s worth a look.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“The hell you will.”

“We’re kind
a in
a loop
here
,” Karen said.

He
shook his head
. “What am I thinking? It’s a sunny morning in
September
,
Burkes
Garden is one of the prettier places around, and a good-looking woman wants to go for a car ride with me. Where’s the problem?”

“I’ll drive,” Karen said
, standing up
.

“No
, y
ou won’t. I’ll drive.”

“This time,” Karen conceded, “but you don’t know what you’re missing.”

“I’ll bet I do,” Branham replied.

8

Branham grabbed the keys to one of the police cruisers, a five-year-old Chevrolet
Caprice
,
and in no time they were
heading
westbound on Route 460
toward Tazewell.
It was a four-lane highway with a flat grass median and wasn’t very busy for a Monday morning.

“
Burkes
Garden is
n
’
t very far from here as the crow flies,” Branham explained, setting the cruise control at just a hair above the speed limit, “but we have to drive around
the
mountain
to get there, so it takes a bit longer.”

“Sure,” Karen said, not
particularly
caring. He was driving, so it was his problem, not hers.
She tapped her heel against the black leather shoulder bag on the floor between her feet. She had grabbed it from her car before
joining Branham in the cruiser.

“
T
ell me about the homicide
,
”
she said.

“The call came in to 911 at 1:32 a.m.
on Sunday from Pete Jablonski, a dishwasher at Gerry’s
,” Branham said.
“
Responding officers got there about 1:40
a.m
. Orton and Collins, whom you’ve met.
Pete
said
he’d
seen a guy walk by the kitchen window earlier, about
midnight
or so
, going around to the back of the place
.

“He
was rinsing dishes at the time and he
says he
glanced up at the window every few moments to see if the guy went past the window again, but he didn’t.
He was c
urious,
so
he
dried his hands and went
out to see
if the guy was
hanging around back there
.
He wasn’t.

“He went all the way around the building and
saw
Donaghue
get into his car
in the parking lot
and driv
e
away. He thought
at the time
it might have been a drug sale or something, because every now and again they ha
d
to chase people
away from the rear of the bar
who went back there to
buy
and sell
weed
. He
wasn’t sure if
the guy getting into the car was the same guy he’d seen walk by the window, but
he
made a mental note of the license plate
anyway
before going back
in
side
.

“
A
t 1:30
a.m., he said,
he took
a Coke and a cigarette
outside on
his break. He
look
ed
around to see if he could see anything, litter or something that might explain what the guy was doing back there.
H
e
noticed
two
long, odd-looking scuff marks across a patch of sand
on the pavement
. He
went back inside for a flashlight
to take a better look. T
he scuff marks
angled
off
in the direction of the ravine
. He crossed the paved area in that direction and continued on across the grass toward the ravine.
”

“Do you know this guy?
Is he a credible
witness?”

“
He’s good
,” Branham said, glancing over at her. “Clean record, originally from Harmony. Spent a few years in Lexington in the horse business, working here and there as a
groom
, stable hand, whatever,
and then
came back when his mother got sick. I’ve known him for a
while
. He’s honest enough. Very serious little guy. No sense of humor
whatsoever
.”

“So he saw these scuff marks and followed them down to the ravine
.”

Branham nodded. “
The
ravine runs through town behind the buildings on that side of Bluefield Street. There
’
s an opening
in the brush
right there and a path leading down into the ravine.
S
ome high grass and weeds on one side had been flattened
, so he
decided to go down the path a few yards
. H
e found the body on the ground just off the path
.
He said he didn’t touch her, just bent down to try to see her face with the flashlight.
When h
e
saw h
er clothing was in disarray
he
came right back up and
called
911.”

“
C
ause of death?”

“
Apparently m
anual strangulation.
We’ll know for sure when the autopsy’s done.
She was strangled behind the bar, dragged for a few yards
,
then picked up and carried down to the ravine and dumped. Then the
guy
probably
went further on along the ravine,
came back up
for
his car
,
and drove away.”

“What
happened
to
her clothes?”

“Her dress was torn. It was sleeveless, with cloth straps over the shoulders about two inches wide
.
The straps had decorative buttons on them.
The right strap had been torn and the dress was pulled down from the top on the right side, along with the bra, to expose her right breast.”

“Rape?”

Branham shook his head. “
D
octor said n
othing
appeared to have
happened below her waist.
We’ll have to wait until the autopsy to be sure.
Her shoes were off, and tossed into the grass next to her. Tazewell figures
the
guy
strangled her
,
started to drag her, and her shoes came off. So he put her down, grabbed the shoes,
then
picked her up and carried her the rest of the way.”

Karen looked at him. “Tazewell
figures
?”

“We call in the
s
heriff’s
o
ffice to assist in crime scene processing
.
They’ve got a mobile unit for forensic investigation and a couple of detectives who have a lot better training and experience in evidence collection than we do. They did the scene for us Saturday night and also did
Donaghue’s
motel room afterward
.”

“Then they should have already told you
that he
had nothing to do with what happened.”

Branham shrugged. “We’re still waiting for their reports.”

“I suppose it’s too much to ask that
the bar would have
video surveillance cameras.”

“Not a chance.
”

After a few minutes of silence they
reached
the outskirts of Tazewell. He eased onto a
n off-
ramp and
took the underpass
south
onto a two-lane road.

“
Just ahead we’ll take a left onto Highway 61
,” Branham explained
.
“That take
s
us around the
mountain
up
to Gratton, where we’ll turn onto Route 623. That’s the only road into
Burkes
Garden.”

Karen
grunted
.
She didn’t have a tourist mentality and really didn’t give a damn about local points of interest. She had a sense that Branham wanted to play tour guide and she wasn’t going to
sit there and let him drone on
.

“Where are you from, Branham?” she asked. “
You’re not a local
, are you?
”

“
Louisa, Kentucky
,” he replied, glancing at her. “
Up on the Big Sandy, in Lawrence County. Not all that far from here,
really
.”

“How’d you end up
d
eputy
c
hief of
p
olice in Harmony?”

“I started out in the Kentucky State Police. My grandfather lived
alone
here in Tazewell
and
when he became sick
I
got
into the Virginia State Police
out of Claypool Hill so I could move here and look after him.
Then he passed away.
I applied for an opening on the town force in Harmony and got in. That was in
'
01
, and I’ve been here ever since.”

Branham stopped at a
n
intersection
and put on his left-hand turn signal. “This is the junction of Highway 61.
It
’ll take us to Gratton.”