We also found some fairly benign sorts of things that might have a bearing on the case. One was an antique crystal candy dish, with a silver lid, containing a number of small white pills. They seemed to have cartoon characters pressed into them. I saw Woody Woodpecker, for sure.
Hester looked carefully at the container, and chuckled. “Ecstasy. Possibly from Holland.” She pointed to the elaborate initial etched into the silver lid. It was an “E,” very much embellished. It, too, was seized as evidence.
There was another bottle, green glass with a brass top, and mounted in a brass tube with legs. Antique, too, I thought. It contained a number of dark green pills, smallish, with a horizontal break line and the numeral 6. Curving across the top was a word, which I could only make out with the help of my reading glasses. “Coumadin.” We all knew that was a blood thinner, but weren't sure just how many different conditions would require its prescription. It was also an anticoagulant. Hester and I exchanged glances over that one, and she nodded.
“Yeah.”
“I think so, too,” I said. “I wouldn't be at all surprised if the lab found a quantity of Coumadin in Edie's tissue samples.”
Another container, this time an old 250ml Erlen meyer flask, graduated, held a large number of coated, pink pills with the inscription “Mellaril 200.” No idea on that one.
The last pill jar was a deep red, also appeared to be antique, with silver scrollwork and a silver stopper. Eighteen blue, diamond-shaped pills, with a brand name on one side and the inscription “VGR50.”
“Anybody know what this is?” I held one out in my hand.
“Hang on to it, Houseman,” said Hester, with a grin. “You may need it sooner than you think.”
I bit, I admit it. From her comment, I sort of assumed it might have something to do with Alzheimer's, or something like that. “Memory stimulant?”
“Probably, in your case, that would be all it is,” she said, laughing. “It's Viagra, Houseman.”
“Oh.” I put it back. “Hey, I'm sorta proud I didn't know what it was.”
“That's the memory part,” she said.
We were all aware of the fact that most of the seized pills appeared to be prescription drugs. We were also aware that we'd not found any prescription bottles of any sort.
Pending the results of the toxicology exam, all meds were photographed in place, and seized.
Chris did the back stair, the one Borman had been guarding, with great diligence. Hester followed him down, after I took photos. The steps were pretty clean. Not only in the evidentiary sense; they gave every indication that they were cleaned and vacuumed regularly. No cobwebs. No dust. Just shiny hardwood and clean pastel green plaster. Nothing, until the second step from the bottom. Chris went on point, came back up for his stuff, and after a few minutes, we shut off the lights.
Green luminescence shone on the bottom two steps. In wide swaths, with a discernible swirling pattern.
Chris looked up the stairs at our three faces peering down at him. “Looks to me like it's a blood response, not detergent. We'll see, and I wouldn't be surprised if there was a mixture of both. But for now, I'd be inclined to say somebody wiped up some blood here. And not too long ago.”
The rest of the steps were clean. Period. According to Chris, that was far from typical.
“I'd be inclined to think there should be more blood-staining around here. Drips. Spills. Seepage. Something.”
But there wasn't.
We photographed the stairs by using a time exposure, darkening the entire third floor, and using a slow pass with a flashlight across the walls of the stairwell, first one side, then the other. That way, the luminescence would show up, and we'd also be able to show the scene. Without the dim light of the flashlight, we'd only get the green on fflm, without any clue as to where it was located. That was the theory, anyway. Just to be safe, we also outlined the areas where the wipe marks were, and took shots of them in good light.
We all sat around for a few minutes, completing our inventory of seized items, finishing up the sketched diagram of the third floor, and making sure we had everything.
“We done?” asked Hester.
Well, as far as we were concerned, we were. Others, it seemed, had different ideas.
SEVENTEEN
Monday, October 9, 2000
01:47
I guess I hadn't fully comprehended the extent of the isolation of the third floor from the rest of the Mansion. As we descended the stairs, we gradually became aware that there was quite a bit of activity around the place. The closer we got to the ground floor, the more my suspicions were confirmed.
We got to the bottom of the stairs, and saw the press people gathered outside the front door. The scene was brilliantly lit. Shit. They had TV cameras and everything. I identified Iowa TV units from Cedar Rapids and Dubuque and one from La Crosse, Wisconsin.
Our call for reinforcements had gotten a little more attention than I'd hoped.
Lamar was, well, eager to see us.
“Somebody told these assholes we were hunting for a vampire up here,” he said, the tense being past accusative. “Who did that?”
I started to say that I didn't know, when he continued.
“They want to know who and how many he's killed, where the vampire is, who the vampire is… ” He looked me square in the eye. “Any suggestions?”
“I suppose,” said Hester, “that means he hasn't been caught yet?”
“Hell, no, he hasn't been caught,” said Lamar, with considerable disgust. “They can't even find a good track, and the useless dog got away from his trainer.” He shook his head. “Goddamned animal started to track Borman at first. You know that? Worthless… ”
There had just been too many people around, I guess.
“I got the plane up from Cedar Rapids PD, with their FLIR, and all they can see is cops, deer, and that useless fuckin' dog wanderin' around.” Lamar gestured toward the woods. “We used spotlights from the Conception County helicopter. All the way to the river. Then the FLIR, when it got here. Nothin', nothin' at all.” I thought he was going to spit. “Then this goddamned rain on top of it… ”
It was raining, not hard, but one of those drizzly, persistent rains that can go on for days. A cold, damp night, peculiar to October and November.
“The rain affect the FLIR much?” I asked.
“I guess,” he said. “It tends to even out the temperatures, if somebody's gonna hide in the woods, so they tell me.” He shrugged. “Just makes it harder, is all.”
FLIR is a Forward Looking Infra Red device. It can see a heat differential of less than half a degree Fahrenheit. Any mammal would show up, and clearly enough that you could spot the antlers on a buck deer from about five hundred feet up. The beauty is, the target has no idea you're looking at it. You can hide under things, of course. Behind things, inside things. But if even your legs were uncovered, it would have you. But the rain, like Lamar said, would make it less effective.
“Where could he go?” I was thinking out loud, more or less.
“I hope,” said Lamar, “that you didn't come all the way downstairs just to ask that.”
Lamar hates the press. It isn't always so obvious, but he really does. He's also very nervous around them, and will do almost anything to avoid having to talk with them. The fact that the so-called vampire's victim was his niece just compounded the problem past all reason.
“You give a statement yet?” asked Hester.
“Nope. Nothin' to say, I guess.”
“Let's give a joint statement,” she said. “You and I can write it up real quick, and I'll go with you and both our offices can issue it.”
He nodded, and the two of them went into the main dining room, and sat at the long, beautiful table. The setting was quite a contrast to the turmoil both inside and outside the Mansion.
There was a familiar voice at the door.