Terry Odell - Mapleton 02 - Deadly Bones (24 page)

Gordon stood by the coffee maker until it gave its final snort. He poured himself a cup—ceramic, he noted, not Styrofoam—and took it to his chair. “Okay, here’s the deal. After talking to the hospital doctor, he agreed that the likelihood of an innocent mistake was small. I convinced him that for Rose’s safety, she be moved immediately.”

“And Sam,” Megan said. “Because it’s probably about the bones.”

“What?” Sam said.

“The forensics team has found bones from two women. One body shows evidence of being stabbed.” Gordon didn’t bother sugar-coating his words. Rose and Sam had survived the Holocaust, and he figured they could handle the truth, perhaps more easily than Megan or Justin. He recapped the working hypothesis that someone had cut up the bodies and organized the bones in the burial sites. “So, we don’t think this is a case of an old family graveyard.”

“And you think someone wants to cut us up and add our bones to the pile?” Rose said. “That is ridiculous.”

“Consider these precautionary measures,” Gordon said. “Megan’s right. For the time being, it’s better to get Rose out of harm’s way.”

“So why not let me go home?” Rose asked.

“Whoever might have administered the wrong medication most likely knows where you live,” Gordon said. “You’re safer here.”

“How can that be?” Justin asked. “Anyone could check the hospital admissions and find out what room she’s in.”

“If they do, they’ll find she’s in room three-twelve. This room is now occupied by Mildred Billings.”

“You mean I’ve got a secret identity?” Rose said. Then she frowned. “I wish you hadn’t called me Mildred, though. Makes me think of Mildred Cohen. Such a
kvetch
.”

“Sorry,” Gordon said, but he was delighted that Rose not only didn’t object, but seemed to be enjoying her new role.

“So who is in room three-twelve?” Sam asked. “Some other patient shouldn’t be at risk.”

“Covered,” Gordon said. “A deputy will be living the life of luxury pretending to be a patient.”

“I don’t like this,” Rose said.

“Oma, it’s for the best. You still need medical care.” Justin got up and stood by her bedside, holding her hand.

“But if the hospital has no record of me being in this room, how will I get lunch?” Rose’s delivery was deadpan, but her eyes twinkled.

Sam bent to kiss her. “I am glad you are feeling better.”

Once the laughter died down—and Gordon had reassured Rose she wouldn’t miss a meal, he proposed the plan for Sam, Megan and Justin to stay in a nearby motel. Megan added her encouragement. As expected, Sam objected, but Rose joined the discussion. “I would listen to Gordon. He knows what he is doing, and I will feel better knowing you are all nearby and safe.”

Megan exchanged a sympathetic look with Sam. “Rose is right.” She shifted, facing Gordon. “Is it all right if we go home and get our things? Do you think we’ll be tailed? Should I rent a different car? Should we stay at separate motels?”

Gordon tried not to let his amusement show. “I don’t think that’s necessary. This isn’t cloak-and-dagger stuff. Merely safety-oriented precautions.” However, there was a kernel of truth in what Megan was saying. Whoever was behind this would likely know of Megan and Justin’s connection to Rose and Sam, and having them in a motel meant he’d rest easier. He opted not to bring it up. Yet.

“A whole lot of bother,” Sam grumbled. He stroked Rose’s head. “But if it makes you feel better, we will do it.”

“So, now that we’re all cooperating with the police,” Rose went on, “can we talk more about the bones? Two women, you said? You don’t know who they are?”

“No. All we know from the forensic evidence is one is between twenty-five and forty years old, the other between eighteen and twenty. One was five-six, the other, five-three. And they’ve been in the ground at least thirty years.”

“Two women. Young. So not Benny and Zannah. Who else might they be? Sam?” Rose raised questioning eyes to her husband.

Gordon thought about his office with its white board. Maybe he should have one here, because something in his gut told him he might get more information from Rose and Sam than he’d get from digging through the police databases. But, since he didn’t have a white board, he got out his notebook.

“Since you mentioned Olivia Easterbrook, let’s start with her,” Gordon said. “Do you remember when she left Fred?”

Rose craned her neck to look at Sam. “That was about the time we were remodeling the store, wasn’t it? So it would have been around 1977.”

“I can check that,” Gordon said.

“Speaking of checking,” Megan said. “We were going to see if the newspaper archives had anything more about the picture we found. There must have been an article to go with it.”

“Picture?” Rose said. “What picture?”

Megan produced the copy and passed it to Rose. “We know the man in front is Fred Easterbrook. And we think the second guy in the back is Dr. Evans. Do you recognize any of the others?”

Rose moved the picture to arm’s length. “Sam, my reading glasses. Did you bring them?”

“
Ach,
I didn’t think. Let me see the picture. I looked earlier, but maybe now something will come to me.” Sam cleaned his glasses again and stared at the printout. “
Ja
, I agree this one is Dr. Evans. The man next to him?” Sam moved the picture back and forth. “There is something familiar about him, too. The other, the one with the full beard. I would remember someone with that much facial hair, I think. Where did this picture come from?”

“We got it off the computer when we did searches for Fred and Olivia,” Megan said.

“But what was the source?” Sam asked. “It looks like there is some writing at the bottom, but it is too blurred to read.”

Megan’s eyebrows shot up as she looked at Justin. “I didn’t think about that. I was too caught up in the people. Did you notice?”

“No.” Justin flipped a hand. “Guess I don’t have the makings of a detective.”

Gordon pulled out his phone. “I’ve got the URL here. Maybe it’ll be clearer.” He found Megan’s message and clicked the link. It was no easier to read in the brightly lit room than it had been in the dim interior of his car. He extended the phone. “Here. One of you might be able to read it.”

Justin took the phone, swept his fingers across the screen. “Looks like an M, a W, a seven and a five.”

Gordon’s cell chirped, and Justin handed it back. Gordon read the display. Laurie. “Hepler.”

“Chief, the mayor’s not happy. Your suggestion of one o’clock was the best I could do.”

“Hang on a sec.” Gordon shifted his phone and checked the time. It was eleven-thirty, so he could still take care of a few things before the appointment. Giving a brief nod to Rose, he stepped out of the room. He leaned against the handrail in the corridor, watching a young woman in a pink smock push the food cart down the hall, and smiled. Rose would get her lunch soon. “Thanks, Laurie. How’s your research coming?”

“It’ll cost you thirty dollars.”

“I thought I promised you Godiva.”

“No, this is what the state charges for the research. I could do it myself, but that’s a trip to the archives in Denver. Didn’t think you could spare me that long.”

“Consider it approved. I’ll pay for it myself if I have to.”

“I figured you’d say that. I’ve already requested the search.”

“And if I hadn’t?” He could almost see Laurie’s smirk.

“Then I’d have covered it. And you’d owe me Godiva
and
flowers.”

“A small price to pay for your efficiency. Put me through to Colfax, please.”

After a moment, Colfax picked up Gordon’s office line. “Hey, Hepler. How’s it hangin’?”

“You tell me. Anything you can get me before one o’clock would be appreciated.”

“One? Not likely. I’ve put in a ViCAP request. And asked for a rush on DNA. We might not get a match, but we could get a hit on a relative. I wouldn’t count on much, but these days, it doesn’t matter what the case is. A jury’s going to ask why we didn’t get DNA.”

“If there are any relatives around after thirty years. That it?”

“My contact has a meet with Robert Ignatius at two,” Colfax said.

“Any chance you could move the meet up?” When Colfax said no, Gordon figured it wouldn’t make a difference. Even a rush on DNA took time. Days, not hours. And responses from ViCAP, the FBI’s Violent Criminal Apprehension Program database, took even longer. Could stretch into weeks.

“Anything on the accident?” Gordon asked.

“That I can give you. Steering was compromised, and the guys don’t think it was normal wear and tear.”

Gordon clenched his fingers over the support rail. Blood pounded in his ears. “You think someone knew he’d be driving that road?”

“Can’t tell you that. Steering would have gone out eventually, but driving that mountain road sent it over the edge much more quickly—no pun intended.”

If the steering had failed in Mapleton, Doc would have noticed and had it taken care of. But on that mountain road, with some of those curves? Gordon made a mental note to ask the nurse how often Doc Evans saw patients here. He was under the impression Doc was cutting back on his practice, which would mean not as many hospital admissions.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Colfax asked.

“Someone knew Doc would be on that road. So his car would have been tampered with in the last couple of days.”

“Sounds reasonable. Of course, there’s always the possibility that someone working in a body shop wanted to drum up business.”

“Yeah, right. That’ll be number six-hundred fifty-nine on my list.” Crap. Doc Evans would need security, too. “I think I’ve worn out my welcome when it comes to bending hospital rules. Can you pull strings and make sure Doc Evans is under surveillance?”

“I’ll arrange it.”

Gordon heard the clatter of the food cart as it approached. “I’ve got a hunch. I’m going to hit the newspaper office on my way back. I’ll check in before my one o’clock.”

Gordon took the time to say goodbye to Rose. “Lunch is on the way. Can’t vouch for the quality, but it should be better than broth and Jell-O.”

“Aren’t you posting a guard at the door?” Megan asked.

Gordon shook his head. “That’s a red flag that there’s someone important in here. Anyone looking for you would assume that’s why the guard was posted.”

“What about inside, then?” Megan said.

“This floor has security cameras in the hall, and they’ll be monitored at the nurse’s station and in Security.” He tore out the page he’d written names on and handed it to Sam. “These are the people who are on duty on this floor. If there are substitutions, you can use the call button to verify they’re kosher.”

The door opened, and the pink-smocked woman—Gordon put her in her early twenties—appeared with a tray holding three dishes hidden beneath plastic equivalents of the stainless steel covers used in hotels. The whole thing was covered with plastic wrap. Gordon checked the woman’s nametag, and found it matched the name he’d been given.

She approached the bed, a smile on her face. “Lunch, Mrs. Billings.”

Thank goodness, Rose didn’t balk at the use of her pseudonym. He had to suppress his own reaction when Rose said, “Call me Mildred, dear. What’s your name?”

“Iris,” the woman said.

Sam looked at the paper Gordon had given him, smiled, and squeezed Rose’s shoulder.

“Well, Iris, I’m glad you’re here,” Rose adjusted the tubing in her nose and scooted up in the bed.

Megan had already rolled the bed table into position, and Iris set the tray atop it. Gordon checked, and yes, the label on the tray said Mildred Billings. Rose reached out and peeled the plastic off.

Gordon lifted the cover from the largest plate. Roast chicken, rice, and broccoli. One of the smaller plates had a green salad, and the last— “Sorry, Mildred. Looks like you’re stuck with Jell-O for dessert.”

Iris backed toward the door. “Enjoy your lunch. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You won’t be bringing my dinner?” Rose said.

“Sorry. I’m a nursing student. I’m on duty breakfast and lunch three times a week. Someone else will bring your dinner.”

After she’d left, Sam consulted the paper again, as if confirming that Iris spoke the truth. “You have gone to a lot of trouble, Gordon.”

“Part of the job. I have to go now.”

Sam walked him toward the door and clasped Gordon’s hands. “This is not Mapleton. I thank you for your trouble.”

“I owe Rose—and you—more than pulling a few strings with a hospital. You take care of her. And yourself. Call if you need me.”

Comfortable—or as comfortable as he could be with the coverage at the hospital—Gordon took advantage of the drive to Mapleton to pull his thoughts together.

The ICU nurse had found a Code Blue registered for the patient in bed four. It had turned out to be a false alarm—a malfunction in one of the machines—but the timeline was within reason. Two-seventeen. In the confusion, someone could have slipped into ICU and waited in one of the two unoccupied cubicles.

The bad news. It was only a hypothesis. There was no way to know if it had happened that way, or who might have sneaked in. Security cameras on a floor where VIPs might be housed, but nothing in the ICU or ER. Regardless of exactly how it happened, Gordon had a vested interest in the case. Now, it was a matter of convincing the mayor of the possible connection between the attempt on Rose’s life and Doc Evans’ accident. And the bones.

Chapter 28

Chimes tinkled when Gordon opened the door to the
Mapleton Weekly
. A pudgy, white-haired woman he didn’t recognize looked up from the desk. “May I help you?”

“I’d like to look at the archives.” His working hypothesis was that the MW75 on the picture meant it was from a 1975 edition of the paper. Of course, it could simply mean someone with the initials MW had uploaded the picture, but he was going with his gut on this one. “From 1975.”

A distressed expression crossed her face. “Oh, my. I’m a part-timer. I answer the phones and take orders for ads three days a week. I don’t know how to access the archives. I don’t know where they are. Or, if we even have them from that far back.”