Cold Justice (16 page)

Hank waited for Blackley’s response.

Blackley just stared at Hank, unblinking. Finally, he
glanced down for a moment, and then back up. “What happened to her,” he asked
calmly.

“It appears she has been murdered.”

“How?” Blackley’s voice was low, unemotional.

“She appears to have been strangled.”

Blackley crossed his legs and took a deep breath, letting it
out slowly. He looked around the room, blinking furiously, as if holding back a
tear.

Hank watched him, studying him.

Blackley took another deep breath and narrowed his eyes
slightly. He looked directly at Hank. “Where did you find her?” he asked.

“She was left in a garbage bin. A homeless man found her
there this afternoon and gave us a call.”

Blackley’s mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened.

Hank continued, “She had been there for three or four days.
I just came from there. She has been taken to the city morgue.”

Blackley frowned and shook his head in disgust before
saying, “I guess you know her and I were not on the best of terms. We pretty
much lived separate lives.” He shook his head slowly. “But, I didn’t expect
this. I didn’t want any harm to come to her. I certainly don’t hate her.”

Hank nodded. He understood how marriages could fall apart.
His own marriage had not lasted long. Many years ago, after he and his wife had
lost their own daughter, diagnosed with a brain tumor at six months old; they
had drifted apart, never to get together again.

But he also knew, statistically speaking, most murders are
for love or money, and in the death of a married woman, the husband is usually
the first suspect. He watched Blackley carefully and said, “Mr. Blackley, the
bin where she was found was behind Proper Shoes.”

Blackley stared, his eyes popping. Then he frowned deeply,
cocking his head. “You don’t think... I had anything to do with this do you?”
he asked slowly.

“At this point we have no suspects,” Hank said.

Anderson was quiet, unmoving.

Hank spoke again, “We’ll need you to identify her body.”

Anderson nodded. “Of course,” he said.

Hank jotted the address down in his notepad and ripped out
the page. He leaned forward and handed the paper to Blackley. “Please drop down
there any time this evening if possible, or tomorrow morning. This evening
would be preferable, before the autopsy is performed, if one is necessary.”

Blackley took the paper and glanced at it briefly before
setting it on a stand beside the couch. “I’ll come down right away,” he said.

Chapter 26

Thursday, August 18th, 6:22 PM

A BIG SIGN in front of the building said Office of the Chief
Medical Examiner. Anderson Blackley pulled into the parking lot, slipped into a
slot, and shut off his vehicle.

He sat there quietly, staring ahead.

What had Vera gotten herself into? He knew she was reckless
at times, and her irresponsible nature had gotten her into difficult situations
in the past, but he never suspected she would end up dead.

They’d had some good times in the past. When they had first
met, he was sure she was the one. They seemed so much in love, nothing could
change that. But it did. It wasn’t long after they were married before he
suspected she was being unfaithful.

Little things. Like her not wanting to sleep with him as
often. Or she was gone a lot, with no explanation of where she had been. And
when he was out of town on business, who knows what went on? The last two years
had been especially bad, but he had closed his eyes and buried himself in his
work.

He sighed and swung the car door open, climbing wearily from
the vehicle. He walked slowly to the large front doors of the building and
stepped inside.

“Can I help you?” a pretty young receptionist asked as he
approached.

“I’m Anderson Blackley. I’m here to identify the body of my
wife, Vera Blackley.”

She smiled pleasantly at him. Not too much of a smile, but
one probably aimed to put him at ease. She pointed to the side of the room. “If
you would have a seat over there, Mr. Blackley, someone will be with you
shortly.”

He nodded his thanks and turned around. There was a row of
comfortable seats against the wall. He chose one at the far end and sat down.
Just like in a doctor’s office, or maybe waiting to see the bank manager.
Newspapers and magazines were stacked neatly on a small table in front of him.
The smell of fresh flowers on an end table filled the air.

He glanced ahead to the doors leading into the bowels of the
building. One would never know from appearances that the stench of death was
lurking just behind that polished stainless steel portal. Beautiful lives and
happy families, suddenly replaced by despair and interrupted dreams.

Not that this would affect him so much in that way.
Suddenly, a strange sense of joy at his newfound freedom washed over him. He
immediately felt guilty, banishing the thought from his mind.

He grabbed a magazine and leafed through it absently. His
thoughts were far away until he was startled back by a voice beside him. “Mr.
Blackley?”

He looked up to see a young man wearing a long white lab
coat, waiting for an answer.

Blackley nodded. “I’m Anderson Blackley,” he said as he
stood.

The young man smiled. “I’m Dr. Flanders. Please come with
me.”

Blackley followed Flanders across the waiting area, through
a swinging door, and into a small room, not much larger than his walk-in closet
at home.

There was a window on the far wall, five feet ahead. The
doctor motioned him forward. As he approached the window, he could see into a
large room, sparkling clean, all white and sterile, with gleaming stainless
steel everywhere.

He dropped his eyes. A metal table had been pushed up to the
window. A large white sheet revealed the distinct shape of a body beneath its
snow white covering. A woman stood behind the table, watching him, waiting
until he was ready.

Dr. Flanders nodded. The sheet was lifted.

It was her.

There was no mistake. Even though it was white and lifeless,
with pale, puckered lips, and shrunken features, he knew that face. The face
that had beguiled him once, and had charmed and delighted so many others before
him. The face that would attract men no more.

He felt a twinge of sadness. Not for himself, but for her. A
small measure of pity for a life that was wasted, and was now gone.

He didn’t cry. He couldn’t. She had drained all his tears long
ago, and there were none left. At least, not for her. The love he had once felt
was now as cold and lifeless as the body in front of him.

He looked at the doctor and nodded. “It’s her,” he said.

Thursday, August 18th, 6:48 PM

LISA KRUNK was armed to the teeth. She had done her
homework.

She hadn’t gotten much from Detective Corning, or the
Lincolns, but after talking to the onlookers at the scene, she had gone around
the building and banged relentlessly on the front door of Proper Shoes. An
overtime office worker had finally succumbed and opened up. She barged in, and
by asking the right questions, had managed to piece together what she needed.

She was pretty sure the body found was that of Vera
Blackley.

Lisa supplied the name to her mole inside police
headquarters, and a search through computer records had verified it. Vera
Blackley, who had been missing since Monday, was now confirmed dead.

She had dropped off the Channel 7 van, and in order to gain
the element of surprise, her and Don had used her personal vehicle, a
nondescript gray Toyota that would be invisible as she waited at the curb for
Anderson Blackley to return home.

It was a stakeout, and worth the wait, if she were to be the
first to get this story.

She tapped lightly at the steering wheel, her fingers
drumming out the rhythm of the music softly pumping through the speakers. She
glanced over at Don. He was dozing as usual, slumped over sideways against the
door, snoring quietly, his hands resting on the camera in his lap.

Lisa sat up straight. A car had just pulled into the
driveway. She slugged Don on the shoulder and he awoke with a start, shaking
his head back to reality.

“He’s here,” Lisa said, as she grabbed the microphone from
the dashboard and shoved her door open. Don was right behind her as they dove
out and hurried up the driveway to Blackley’s car.

They approached their target just as he stepped from his
vehicle and slammed the door behind him. “Anderson Blackley?” Lisa asked.

He spun around. “Yes?”

Lisa had the mike in the air. She pushed it at him. “Mr.
Blackley, I’m Lisa Krunk from Channel 7 Action News. May I ask you a few
questions?”

Don stood to one side, the camera was humming, red light
glowing, waiting for something juicy.

Blackley frowned. “What’s this about?” he asked.

“Mr. Blackley, the body of your wife was found today. What
can you tell me about that?”

Blackley glanced back and forth from the red light to the
mike, and then at Lisa. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Her body was found.”

“Was she murdered, Mr. Blackley?”

Blackley hesitated. “Yes, she was,” he said quietly.

“Can you tell us what happened?”

“She was... strangled,” he said, as he turned to leave.

Lisa persisted. “Mr. Blackley, do you have any idea who
might have murdered her?”

He turned back. “No. How would I know?” He looked perplexed.

“Did you kill her?”

Blackley frowned. “Of course not.”

“I understand you and your wife were estranged. Is that
correct?”

“Look, my wife and I were fine. We were not estranged.”

“You were out of town when the murder took place?”

“Yes, I was.”

Lisa pressed on. “However, when her body was found, it was
nearly naked. What can you say about that?”

“I don’t know anything about that. The police are
investigating and I’m sure they will be able to explain everything eventually.”

“We have talked to witnesses who have stated she was having
an affair, Mr. Blackley. Were you aware of that?” Lisa lied.

Blackley shouted, “No. She was not having an affair.”

“They also said you may be having an affair?”

Blackley glared at her for a moment and then turned and
strode up the walkway.

Don followed as Lisa ran after him. “Just one more question,”
she called.

Blackley stopped and turned around slowly. Lisa moved to the
side as Don went between Blackley and the front steps, blocking his path to the
house.

“Vera Blackley’s body was found in a garbage bin behind the
building where you work. Are you afraid you will be the number one suspect?”

“Why would I be? I told you, I was out of town on business
at the time.”

“The police may say you were somehow involved.”

Blackley glared at her angrily. “This interview is over.” He
turned abruptly and bumped into Don, pushed him aside and strode up the steps.
The camera watched him as he struggled with the key and swung the door open,
stepping inside and slamming the door.

Lisa stared after him. She didn’t get as much as she had
hoped, but it would have to do. She had the footage from the crime scene, and
maybe a little clever editing will put a more interesting slant on this story.

“Come on Don, let’s go,” she said, spinning around and
striding down the driveway toward her car.

Chapter 27

Thursday, August 18th, 6:55 PM

HANK RUNG THE doorbell of the Lincoln residence and waited.

The door swung open. “Hey, Uncle Hank. Catch any bad guys
today?”

Hank looked down at the boy in front of him and laughed. “Not
today, Matty. But I’m working on it.”

Annie called from the living room. “We’re in here, Hank.”

Annie was curled up in a comfortable chair, a book in her
lap. Jake was slouched on the couch, his feet on the coffee table, playing with
his iPhone. They looked up as Hank entered the room and sat down on the other
end of the couch, Matty popping in between them.

Hank slipped a folded paper from his pocket and held it up. “I
have the autopsy report here on Abigail Macy.”

Matty looked at Hank, and then at his mom. “I know, I have
to leave now, right?”

Annie smiled at him. “Maybe you can go upstairs and do your
homework.”

Matty protested. “Mom, I think I’m old enough to hear about
this stuff now. I know what you, and Dad, and Uncle Hank, do. And I know people
get killed sometimes.”

Annie hesitated and looked at Jake. Jake just shrugged and
looked back.

“I’m not a little kid anymore, Mom, and it won’t give me
nightmares, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

Hank watched Matty’s parents as they communicated silently
with their eyes.

Matty continued, “I have to learn about this stuff some
time, don’t I? And I see worse stuff on TV.”

Annie laughed and gave in. “All right. You can stay.”

Matty grinned and sat back, a triumphant look on his face.

Hank unfolded the papers and glanced at them. “Unfortunately,
there’s nothing unusual in the autopsy report.”

Matty looked at Hank. “What’s an autopsy?”

“Um, that’s when they check inside the person to see why
they died.”

Matty nodded his head as if he understood completely.

Hank continued, “As they initially found, the blood test
showed a .085 level of alcohol, so she was legally intoxicated. And that,
coupled with a high level of Lorazepam, was a lethal combination. Everything
else was normal.”

“And the bottom line?” Jake asked.

“Other than that, the autopsy showed nothing unusual, and so
the coroner concluded again, the means of death was suicide.”