Terry Odell - Mapleton 02 - Deadly Bones (21 page)

They both listened. Irv seemed totally professional, sending officers and monitoring them until they reported they were clear.

“I don’t notice anything wrong,” Connie said.

“Neither do I. But seems to me he would have mentioned it. These calls all came in within fifteen minutes of each other. He was obviously busy—much more than most nights.”

“I can ask him when he comes in,” Connie said. “You think he might be having memory problems? I know my Dad lost most of his short-term memory, but he was much older than Irv when he started downhill.”

“See if you can get him to recap the previous night’s shift when he comes in tonight. It’s not so bad if he’s forgetting what he’s done, but if he gets to the point where he’s forgetting what to do, then we have a serious problem.”

“I’ll take care of it, Chief.”

Gordon headed to his office to deal with Colfax and his own serious problems. Today looked like it was going to be one of those days when it wasn’t good to be the Chief.

Chapter 23

Megan stifled a yawn as she scrambled a bowl of eggs. She hadn’t quite managed the crack of dawn the way Rose did, but nobody else was up yet, so that had to count for something. Since visiting hours didn’t start until nine, she figured there was no reason to rush through breakfast. For the first time since Rose had been taken to the hospital, Megan thought she might actually be hungry. The coffee had finished brewing and she helped herself to that first cup. Early bird perks.

Upstairs, doors creaking and water flowing through pipes told her Justin and Sam were getting up. She popped the Kaiser rolls she’d found in the freezer into the oven to warm, and set butter and jam on the table. Tipping the eggs into the butter-coated skillet, she stirred them the way Rose had taught her.

What else? Cream for the coffee. She poured some half-and-half from the carton into the ceramic pitcher and set it beside the matching sugar bowl before returning to the eggs.

“Smells wonderful,
Liebchen.
” Sam entered the kitchen and kissed Megan on the cheek. “I think you’ve found my appetite. And in the nick of time, as Rose will most certainly be asking what we had for breakfast.”

So, she wasn’t the only one who’d been off food.

Justin trooped downstairs as she was taking the eggs from the stove. If he was disappointed that she hadn’t gone to his room last night, he hid it well. He helped himself to coffee and slid into his seat.

With breakfast eaten and the dishes done, there was still a good half hour before there was any point in heading to the hospital. Sam was in his den, his normal morning ritual. Remembering the printout she’d left on his desk, she wiped her hands on the dish towel and wandered down the hall to Sam’s den.

He looked up from his computer. “Come in, Meggie. I saw the picture you left, but first I need to let everyone know how Rose is doing.”

She crossed closer to his desk and peered at the computer monitor. What the—Facebook? Sam had a Facebook page? And if so, why hadn’t he invited her to be his friend? “Um… sure.”

Sam wasn’t against technology—he’d used computers in his bookstore long before he got one for home use. He had a cell phone, and Justin had convinced him that texting was a way to communicate when he didn’t want to interrupt someone—but she rarely saw him use it much. She assumed he used email, and maybe paid his bills through the computer, but social networking? Sam?

As if he knew what she was thinking, he typed something and clicked the mouse, then gave her a broad smile. “Just a bunch of
alte kakers
keeping in touch,” he said. “For real communication, I prefer the telephone.”

That sounded like the Sam she knew, although he was hardly an old geezer. She put it out of her mind.

“Did you recognize anyone from the picture?” she asked.

“Clearly, the man in front is Fred Easterbrook, but it says that in the caption. You’re referring to the others, I take it.”

“Yes.”

Sam squinted at the picture. Took off his glasses. Polished them. Looked again. “Judging from how young Fred looks, this is a very old picture. I can’t be sure.”

“Does that mean you can guess? I mean, if you remember Mr. Easterbrook from back then, it means you might have seen these other people when they looked like that, too.” She took the picture in hand again, about to point out the one who’d looked vaguely familiar to her when the phone rang. Sam picked it up.

“Sam Kretzer here,” he said. He was quiet for a moment, then went pale. “
Mein Gott.
We will be right there.”

“What?” Megan’s heart thumped.

“It’s Rose. We must get to the hospital. Now.”

Megan screamed for Justin as she ran to find her purse. “I’ll drive.”

From the car, Justin called Doctor Evans’ office. Megan strained to listen, or at least figure out what the doctor—or his nurse—was saying, since nobody got put straight through to a doctor anymore. On Justin’s end, it was all generic comments like, “Yes, I see,” “When,” and “How?”

Cursing the morning traffic on the winding mountain highway, Megan glued her eyes to the road, willing the hospital to move closer. Wishing Mapleton had its own hospital. Hoping Rose was all right. But if she was all right, they wouldn’t be barreling down the highway. Or not barreling, given the traffic. Red brake lights ahead had Megan slamming on her own. Coming to a stop inches from the bumper of the car in front of her, she said, “Sorry. Everyone all right?” She looked across to the passenger seat, where Sam gripped the
oh shit
handle.

“I am fine,” Sam said. “But hurrying won’t do any good if we get into an accident on the way.”

“I don’t think hurrying is an option anymore,” Megan muttered. She craned her neck, trying to spot the problem. “Can you see anything ahead?”

“Flashing lights,” Sam said. “The police. And an ambulance.”

“Somebody else had their accident first,” Megan said under her breath. “As long as we’re sitting here, Justin, what did Dr. Evans say?”

“
Ja.
Please tell us. How is Rose?”

Justin sucked in an audible breath, then blew it out. “Dr. Evans hasn’t seen Oma in person yet. What his office said was that Oma apparently had a severe allergic reaction to the antibiotics, and went into anaphylactic shock, but because she was in ICU, they were able to reverse it in time.”

“I thought they changed her medication to avoid that,” Megan said.

“They did. Which is why Dr. Evans is going to the hospital to see her.”

“Could it be a delayed reaction to the old medicine?” Megan asked.

“
Nein
. Those reactions are immediate,” Sam said. “Even a mild reaction would have been noticed, which is why they switched medications in the first place.”

“So maybe someone gave her the old medication by mistake?” Megan eased off the brakes as traffic inched forward, gaining a few yards.

“If that is the case, someone will answer to me,” Sam said. “This hospital is supposed to provide excellent care. Especially in ICU. There should be
no
mistakes.”

Megan had a brief vision of a lawsuit. She almost smiled. Being sued paled in comparison to dealing with the wrath of Sam.

“When Dr. Evans gets there, he’ll be checking to find out exactly what happened,” Justin said. “Meanwhile, he said they have her stabilized, which is good.”

Could it have been deliberate? But why would someone want to harm Rose? Could it possibly be related to the buried bones?

Traffic began moving again as a police officer directed traffic around a car that had plowed into the guard rail at one of the S curves. Probably taking it too fast. Like she might have done, given her anxiety level. Two paramedics were loading a gurney into the back of an ambulance. Megan took a calming breath and continued down the road, paying more attention to her driving this time. Moments later, the piercing wail
of sirens had her pulling over as the ambulance raced past. For whatever it was worth, that meant the person in the ambulance was still alive, and Megan felt grateful for that.

“Some day, they will put more warning signs and lower the speed limit on this road,” Sam said. He snorted. “Although I doubt it will make a difference. People drive how they want.”

Megan checked the speedometer. And eased off the accelerator.

When they arrived at the hospital, Sam went straight to the information desk. Justin tried phoning Doctor Evans, but this time, all he got was the answering service telling him the doctor was on his way to the hospital. Sam was being helped by a woman wearing a volunteer pin, and seemed oblivious to Justin’s presence. Justin asked a second volunteer if Doctor Evans had arrived. The man checked the computer. “Not yet.”

“What now?” Megan asked.

“You will wait here. I am going to ICU.” Sam’s shuffle was gone as he strode purposefully toward the elevator.

As soon as Sam disappeared inside the elevator, Megan took Justin’s hand. “Come with me. I need to talk to you.”

Chapter 24

Gordon wasn’t surprised to see Colfax sitting in
his
chair, behind
his
desk, using
his
computer. He’d done it while they were working on the Bedford case. Two steaming mugs of coffee on the desk tempered any irritation Gordon might have felt. Gordon had accepted that Colfax never did anything more intrusive than use the computer to log into the county system to check his messages, or access county files and databases. But it still rankled him to walk into his office and see someone at his desk. Enough so he wasn’t going to use the visitor’s chair. He hovered at the edge of the desk, waiting until Colfax finished whatever he was doing.

Remembering the text from Megan, he popped open the message on his phone. A link to a site he wouldn’t be able to read on his phone’s tiny screen. He forwarded the message to his email, which he’d check out as soon as Colfax finished.

Colfax clicked at the keyboard for a moment or two, then rolled the chair back. Without so much as a thank you or an apology, he relinquished the seat to Gordon. Gordon took the chair without comment. He opened his email, quickly dealing with the routine before opening the forwarded message, which said, “Do you recognize anyone in the background?” The link opened to an old newspaper clipping. A young Fred Easterbrook took up the foreground, but that wasn’t what Megan had asked. He squinted at the photo, tried enlarging it, which didn’t help. He printed it and tried his magnifying glass, with no better results. He showed it to Colfax. “Anyone in the background look familiar?”

Colfax pulled a pair of readers from his pocket and settled them on his nose. “Take a blurry, archived newspaper article, and you get a blurry computer printout. I don’t recognize any of these people. Should I?”

“The guy in front is Mapleton’s town crazy.” Gordon explained his visit to Fred’s place. “Megan Wyatt, the woman who sent me the link, asked me if I recognized anyone in the background.”

“Megan Wyatt. I met her on the last case, right. Cute brunette? Protective boyfriend?”

Gordon ignored the comment.

“Okay,” Colfax said, in apparent response to Gordon’s silence. “Why did she send it?”

“I have no idea. She’s interested in the case—the bones were found near the home of the people who raised her.”

“Kretzer. Now, I remember. So, call her and ask who she thinks is in the picture.”

“Good idea.”

Gordon’s call went straight to Megan’s voicemail. “Rose Kretzer’s been in the hospital. Megan’s probably there visiting, so she’ll have her phone off.” Gordon sent a quick text, asking Megan to explain the significance of the picture.

Colfax’s cell rang. He listened for a while, took out his notebook and jotted something down. “Female,” he said after he disconnected. “Based on the forensics voo-doo machines, one’s between twenty five and forty. Five-six. The other one is under twenty-five, estimated eighteen to twenty. Five-three.”

“What?”

“The bones. Finding the second arm moved them higher up the list. And I think Asel gave them a nudge. Still can’t wrap my head around that one.”

Gordon tugged at his ear. “Two women disappear, and there’s nothing in the records about it? That’s what’s hard to wrap
my
head around.”

“All sorts of possibilities. They’re not from around here, for one. How far away have you searched?”

Gordon grabbed his legal tablet and started making notes. “Here, and the surrounding counties. I mean, why would someone bring a body here? Transporting it would be a major risk. Doesn’t make sense.”

Colfax brought his mug to his mouth. “Since when do crimes have to make sense? To us, anyway. They make perfect sense to the people who commit them.”

“True enough.” Gordon brought Colfax up to speed on the Kretzers’ acquired land. “I’m trying to figure out how to justify a trip to Denver to interview Roger Ignatius, the guy who headed up the corporation back then. Roger, Suben and Clark.”

“Denver’s its own county, so technically, it’s out of my jurisdiction, too. But if you need help, I’ve got contacts. Tell me what you need and I’ll see if I can pull a string or two.”

Colfax initiating contact meant one less item the mayor could bitch about. “Anything that tells me who was involved in the Kretzer land deal. Ignatius is the agent on record. He may or may not have been hands-on with the day-to-day operations of the corporation, but he should know the players.”

Colfax was scribbling in his notebook. “What else do you have?”

“Damn near nothing, as I’m sure you know. Waiting on whatever the CSR team digs up—literally.”

Colfax’s phone chirped again. He studied the display. “They’re on site. Want to pop over?”

* * * * *

“Park here,” Gordon said as Colfax swung his vehicle along the Kretzers’ street. “This is the shortest way in.” He led Colfax through the woods, although given there were six Crime Scene Response criminalists working, it wouldn’t have been hard to miss the sites. Gordon took in their equipment, automatically thinking about whether his budget would ever cover such luxuries. Which it wouldn’t, since Mapleton didn’t have and was never likely to have, the money or manpower for a forensics team. And, to be honest, they rarely needed one.