Terry Odell - Mapleton 02 - Deadly Bones (31 page)

Angie returned the gesture. “Ah, so you’ve been there.”

“Don’t you think there are more important things to talk about? Like, who was buried in Rose and Sam’s yard? Did Gordon give you any more information?”

Angie scrunched up her face. “An open case? You’ve got to be kidding.” She took another bite of cake. “Did he tell
you
anything? After all, you practically live there.”

Megan shook her head.

Angie scraped the last bite of frosting from her plate. “See. He’s all about the job. And speaking of jobs, you’ve been holding back. I want the whole story. The real reason you quit, why you didn’t find another company.” She poured another glass of champagne into Megan’s flute.

Megan was buzzed enough, both from the champagne and the fact Angie was going to join her, to let it all out. “Groping boss. When I refused, and threatened to go to Human Resources, he made it clear they’d believe him, not me. I went anyway, and bottom line, he made it clear to everyone in the industry that I’d been the instigator, tried to sleep my way to a promotion, and that I was unreliable.”

“Back up to the groping part.” Angie nailed her with a piercing gaze. “Were you sugar-coating? Did he—”

“Rape me? No.” Megan swigged her remaining champagne as if it were water. “But he was walking funny for a few days.”

Angie lifted a hand for a high five. “Way to go, girlfriend. Except about the no job and being blacklisted part. But you—we—are going to be great together. Too bad Gordon and Justin can’t be here to celebrate with us.”

Megan leaned against the sofa cushion and closed her eyes. “You know, if I could sneak past the cops and get into Rose and Sam’s house, then I could get what they all need and go back. The news said the fire’s not spreading and people should be allowed into their homes tomorrow. And then you could let Gordon know you’re free tonight, too.”

“How much champagne have you drunk?” Angie asked. “That’s the sort of thing I’d come up with, not you. Besides, I don’t think it’s against the law to enter your own property. I think it’s only if you refuse to evacuate when they tell you to, they don’t have to save you. Or something like that.”

“Then let’s do it.”

“As soon as it’s dark.” Angie hoisted the champagne bottle. “Meanwhile, let’s talk shop.”

Chapter 36

Gordon took an involuntary step backward. Gripping the bed’s foot rail he steadied himself. Doc’s eyes closed again, and his breathing was steady. Gordon wondered if he’d imagined Doc’s words, or if, as the nurse had said, Doc was under the influence of his sedation. Gordon sucked air for a moment, then sat in the chair by Doc’s bed. “I’m going to record this, okay, Doc?” Gordon showed him his recorder.

Doc didn’t respond. Although Gordon wasn’t sure he’d understood, it didn’t matter, because state law said as long as one party consented to the recording, it was legal. Nevertheless, Gordon punched the record button and identified himself, including the date and time. Being a cop meant constantly covering one’s ass.

Gordon spoke slowly. “Find out what, Doc? Why would there be a trial?” Gordon waited. Doc’s raspy breathing and the beeping of the monitoring equipment were the only sounds in the room. Again Gordon asked himself if Doc was delirious.

When he got no further response, Gordon switched his approach. “Doc?” Gordon rested his hand on Doc’s dry, age-spotted one. “What happened to Rose?”

Doc blinked. A trickle of drool ran down his chin. Gordon found a tissue on the bedside table and wiped it away. “Rose?” Doc rasped.

“Rose Kretzer. She had an allergic reaction to a medication. Do you know how she got it?”

“Not. My. Fault.”

“Of course not. You were coming to find out what happened before you had the accident.”

Doc’s eyes popped open. “Wasn’t. Accident.” His words blew out as if he’d just scaled Pike’s Peak.

Could this be their first real lead? “We know.” Gordon leaned forward so he could hear Doc above the machines. “Someone tampered with your steering. Do you know who did it?”

“Money.” Doc gasped for breath.

The beeps were faster now, and Gordon reached for the call button. But first, he needed to hear what else Doc had to say. “What about money?” Certainly Doc hadn’t paid someone to monkey with the steering on the car. Or was it insurance money? A suicide attempt made to look like an accident? Gordon couldn’t wrap his head around that one. Unless… had Doc been the one who screwed up Rose’s meds? Was he trying to kill himself out of guilt? But then, what would money have to do with it?

“What about the money?”

When there was no response, Gordon tried yet another tack. “Doc. Tell me about a hunting contest. Back in ‘seventy-five. You, Fred Easterbrook, Roger Ignatius, Mad Dog, and Hal Osterback. Were you all friends? Is Hal related to Clark? Do you know anything about Roger Ignatius’ real estate company?”

“Money,” Doc said again.

Gordon backpedaled. Someone in Doc’s condition couldn’t handle a barrage of questions. “Were you and Fred Easterbrook hunting buddies?”

“Fred. Hal. Roger. Clark.”

“That’s right. What’s the connection?”

“Needed. Money. Could never. Get out. From under.”

“You all needed money?” Were Fred and Hal also part of Roger, Suben and Clark? Had Doc invested in the company? In the records Laurie had obtained, only the officers of the company were listed.

Doc’s breathing slowed. His eyes closed. “Sorry,” he whispered.

The beeps merged into a single, steady tone. The nurse threw the door open and rushed to Doc’s bedside, along with another man in surgical scrubs. Gordon jumped out of her way. Seconds later two people came in pushing a cart, and told him to leave.

He stood outside the door, leaning against the wall, his knees suddenly blocks of Jell-O. Had Doc been straddling the line between life and death? Had Gordon’s questioning pushed Doc over the edge?

Another thought slammed into him like a three-hundred pound tackle. Someone had tampered with Rose’s medication. Had Doc known, and that someone came after him as well? Gordon replayed the recording he’d made. Money, Doc had repeated. That and the accident not being an accident.

When the nurse came out of Doc’s room, her slumped shoulders and rueful eyes answered the question he couldn’t have brought himself to ask.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “His injuries were more than he could handle. It wasn’t totally unexpected.”

He did have to ask one question, though. “Did I… did my questions—” Tears prickled behind his eyes. He remembered lollipops and colored Band-Aids administered with a smile after childhood doctor visits.

She shook her head. “No. He wasn’t likely to have made it through the night. I hope you got some useful information.”

Gordon steeled his spine against the grief that threatened to undo him. “Did anyone other than vetted staff enter his room since he was moved in here?”

The nurse tightened her lips. “No. I checked them all before they came in. Everyone had appropriate identification.”

“What about now? I imagine things were crazy in there—can you vouch for everyone who came in?”

At her side, her hands fisted. Gordon didn’t care if she thought he’d questioned her ability to do the job. Right now, he was a cop.

She lifted her chin. “You’re saying someone was working against our efforts to save Dr. Evans’ life? Because I can assure you, everything we did in there was proper medical procedure.”

“I’ll take your word for that part. However, I’m going to want to talk to everyone who was in the room.”

She spun on her rubber soles and pushed the door open. “Come in.”

Being in the room with Doc’s… body… churned Gordon’s stomach, but he followed the nurse. Four heads turned as he came in. Gordon produced his badge. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I need verification of your identity.”

All four pointed to their ID badges. One doctor, one intern, two nurses. The nurse-deputy produced a clipboard from a drawer in the bedside table. “This is a roster of personnel who would be on this floor.”

Gordon took the clipboard and matched the names on the IDs with the list. He turned to the doctor. “Have you worked with these three before?”

The doctor made a show of staring into the faces of the others, as if he, too, was matching faces to their IDs. “Yes. On numerous occasions. And before you ask, they’re supremely competent. If I were in need of medical care, I’d want these people taking care of me.”

“Thanks. You understand, given recent circumstances, I had to ask.”

“No offense taken. It’s a black mark against the hospital to know someone can undo our efforts to save lives. Dr. Evans, even though he hasn’t practiced here much in recent years, was a notable member of our staff, and he will be missed.”

Gordon sensed the doctor’s formal tone was an effort to hide his own sorrow. “I don’t doubt you did everything you could to save him.” He paused. “One more thing. How do I make sure he gets a thorough autopsy? If anything other than the accident caused his death, I need to know about it.”

“I’ll take care of it,” the doctor said.

Gordon and the nurse-deputy exited the room. “You know Detective Colfax?” Gordon asked.

A faint twitching at the corner of her mouth told him she did. “Yes, I do.”

“Keep him in the loop.”

“Right.”

“And I’ve got one more request. You know about Rose Kretzer?”

“She’s up in the VIP suite, incognito, right?”

Pleased that she’d been well-briefed, Gordon related his concern for Rose’s safety. “The medical staff has been vetted, but other than her doctor, nobody knows her real identity. I’d feel better if you spent the night in her room. Can we swing that?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll clear it with my superiors, both here and at county.” She walked toward the nurse’s station.

Gordon composed himself in the elevator as he rode up to Rose’s floor. Although he wasn’t close to Doc on a personal level, he’d been seeing the doctor since he was a kid, and there was an emptiness he couldn’t explain. When the elevator doors opened, he almost punched the button for the lobby. Dread ate its way through him, clawing at his gut. Telling Rose that Doc had died would be worse than any of the death notifications he’d had to deliver as a cop. If Gordon had felt guilt about pushing Doc past the point of no return, how would Rose feel? She’d been the reason he was on the road.

Suddenly wishing Angie was with him, holding his hand, chasing away the numb feeling, he knocked on the door to Rose’s room.

Gordon waited, and then Sam’s face appeared through the small viewing pane in Rose’s door. The last time Gordon had checked in, Rose’s condition had improved markedly, and Sam’s welcoming smile lightened Gordon’s mood. For a moment, he worried whether telling her about Doc would send her into a relapse.

No, not Rose. She was strong enough to handle it—better than he was right now. No matter what the nurse had said, Gordon couldn’t shake the guilt that if he hadn’t tried to question Doc, the man would still be alive. But he opted to confer with Sam first. When Sam opened the door, Gordon didn’t cross the threshold. He lowered his voice and explained that Doc hadn’t survived the car accident.

“Oh, no! That is horrible.” Sam shook his head.

“Should we wait to tell Rose?” Gordon asked. “Until she’s stronger?”

“Keeping it from her would make her angry, which would be worse than what she’ll feel. No, she needs to know.”

Gordon steeled himself to deliver the news, but Sam’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“I will tell them,” Sam said.

When Gordon entered the room, Justin was sitting at Rose’s side, reading to her. He stopped and slipped a bookmark between the pages. Gordon paused at the foot of the bed.

“Gordon. So nice of you to come by,” Rose said.

“I’m afraid there’s some sad news,” Sam said. “Dr. Evans didn’t make it.”

Gordon braced himself for Rose’s reaction. Her face drooped, and she gave a sorrowful sigh. “Such a tragedy. But he lived a full life. He will be remembered for his good works.”

Gordon remained where he was, hands clasped behind his back, allowing a few moments out of respect for Doc’s memory. When the silence grew uncomfortable, he spoke. “How well did you know Doc Evans? Was he a friend as well as your doctor? Did you have friends in common?”

“He was our doctor,” Rose said. “For many, many years. But we didn’t socialize, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Gordon moved closer, watching Rose’s face. “His accident wasn’t an accident. Someone tampered with the steering on his car. Whoever did it must have known he’d be on the mountain road this morning.”

Rose’s hand darted to her mouth. “He was coming to see me.”

“That’s how I see it,” Gordon said. “I’m sorry, Rose.” He laid out the people he and Doc had discussed. “Would you know how any of these people are connected? We know that Roger Ignatius and Clark Osterback were in the real estate business together, along with your friends, Benny and Zannah. Do you know anyone else who was part of the company?”

“No,” Sam said. “To us, Benny was an architect. I can’t remember him saying he was connected to real estate, except to try to get us to buy more of it.”

“Maybe we should have,” Rose said. “After all, he and Zannah were able to retire early.”

“I can look deeper into the company,” Gordon said. “Did you know a Hal Osterback? I assume he was related to Clark, and he seems to be around the same age, so they could be brothers. He was one of the men in the picture I showed you earlier. One of the other men was someone named Bob Browning, although he might have been known as Mad Dog. He was the older man with the beard.”

“Mad Dog, no. I would remember someone with that name,” Sam said. “But these Osterbacks you spoke of. In German,
Ostern
is Easter and
Bach
is brook, so—”

Gordon almost heard a
ding
as his brain processed Sam’s words. “So Easterbrook and Osterback could be connected.”

“It was not unusual for immigrants to Americanize their names,” Rose said, exchanging a knowing glance with Sam.

Gordon leaned down and kissed Rose on the cheek. “Thanks. You, too, Sam. I’m going to get on this right away. You still have my cell number, right?”