“Intimidation?” Tony guessed that it was a sort of a test, that there was, as usual, a reason for everything with Ray Bankston.
“Mm-Hm.”
“Okay. I get it. What did the coroner have to say?” Ray had been on the phone for a while. Maybe they could skip going to the morgue to watch the coroner perform the autopsy. Tony had seen blood and trauma in all its horrid forms-car wrecks, gun-shot wounds, knifings and slashings, even the aftermath of a hatchet fight one time-but he wasn’t at all anxious to see what happened on the table in the morgue. Not yet. CSI on television was one thing.
“Cause of death was, as expected, the knife to the heart.” Ray looked down at his notes. “No recent sexual activity. Stomach contents were barely digested. Some cereal, raisins, some orange juice.”
“No coffee?” Tony remembered the cup and the half full carafe.
“Nope.”
“There was a coffee cup in the sink.”
“Mm-hm.” Ray nodded. “Why don’t you run down and grab those print kits now. I’ve got to work on my notes and the others should be back soon. We need to see where we are.”
“Grab you anything on the way back up?” Tony was already out of his chair and halfway to the door.
“No thanks. Not right now.” Tony left and Ray dropped the notes from his hand. He had no stomach for anything right at the moment.
Tony would miss the trip to the morgue for his first murder; miss the first-hand relay of information, an experience that would probably stay with him the rest of his life. Ray wouldn’t miss it. He wouldn’t miss seeing the gray naked woman on the table, splayed open, chest split with a saw, the top of her head gone so they could weigh the brain, organs laid aside after their inspection. He wouldn’t miss the smell of rot, of decomposition, body gasses and eau de antiseptic. No, Ray wouldn’t have the stomach for much of anything for a while. He might miss it this time but so many others haunted him…so many others.
“I think we can narrow the time of death,” Tony said as he dumped the fingerprint kits on an unused desk. “Maybe even fix it.” Ray swiveled his chair toward Tony’s. He’d been thinking about it too.
“Tell me.”
Tony hitched himself upon his desk top and set down a coffee cup. “Early Monday morning. She’s dressed to go out, just eaten breakfast; cereal and OJ. You don’t eat that for dinner. Plus it hasn’t been digested. The appointment book said she had a 9:30, we can guess it was something at Children’s Hospital. I’m going back over there to check the alarm clock by the bed.”
“6:45” Ray shrugged when Tony frowned a question at him. “I checked.”
“Okay. She hits the snooze once or twice, gets up, showers, makes the bed, dresses, fixes some cereal, what…an hour?” Tony raised his eyebrows and turned the corners of his mouth down, waiting for Ray to argue with his timeline, hoping for an attaboy.
“And on the back end, the trip to Children’s in rush hour from Highland is twenty minutes. Ten to park. Fifteen to chat and say hi.” Ray apparently agreed with him and took it a step further. Tony felt like they were on the same page.
“So she was killed between 7:45 and 8:45 Monday morning,” Tony said with some finality.
“You sure this is your first murder?” Ray chuckled. He was pleased that Tony had figured this out, and pretty much on his own. Granted it wasn’t that big a leap once the stomach contents were known, but the young detective was thinking, keeping his head in the details.
“So did the murderer know her schedule? Know she’d be home then? Or did they just take a chance?” Tony seemed to be asking the questions of himself. Ray noticed he was turned away, looking up at the flickering fluorescents, half lost in thought.
Ray brought him back to the squad room when he spoke. “Good questions. We have to consider it wasn’t premeditated. The murder weapon was a kitchen knife, laying right there on the counter.” Ray looked up at the ceiling too. Recollections of other crimes, other lost lives and mysteries jostled each other. Tony stayed silent. He let the scenarios and what-ifs of his own dance and tease each other.
Ray broke the spell again when he added, “I really want to meet the ‘Go Girls’.”
Chapter 8
The Marland residence was across town, across two or three towns, actually. It was way out west of Minneapolis in the suburb of Minnetonka. Lakisha Marland told them she’d be happy to talk to them and that she planned to be home all afternoon.
The house was set back from the road. Both Ray and Tony could see the slate gray waters of the big lake that the town was named for behind it. There was a breeze, a chill wind that tossed the surface of the water. Irregular lines of whitecaps tossed tears from their foamy crests. There were no boats out. Not even fishermen seemed to care for the sullen overcast day and the uneasy waters.
As they approached Tony marveled at the house. It was brick, painted white, with acres of paned glass arranged just-so across its face. Even though well into October, he could see that the lawn was well cared for. The plantings seemed precise, chosen…specific to a sense of style and order. The house was at least three stories tall. Tony wondered if there were basements this close to a massive lake. It was impressive. The Marland’s had some money. Tony was curious if Scott Fredrickson managed any of it for them. He also wondered if a servant would open the door, a liveried butler or a maid in a starched black dress with white piping or something like that.
Lakisha Marland answered her own door. She was a strikingly beautiful woman, blacker than Ray and almost as tall. She was wearing a full length dress, black, maybe silk, with gold swirls in a random pattern. Tony knew there was a name for that kind of dress but couldn’t remember what it was. It was an African thing or maybe Egyptian.
Her hair was short, curly and styled close to her head. It was soot black with a bare hint of gray at the temples. Golden hoops dangled from her ears. Her eyes were unsettling. They were deep brown, almost black, and slightly almond shaped. Her nose was thin and straight, her lips full and sadly smiling as she greeted them. Ray made the introductions. Tony gawked at the house and the furnishings as she led them through an expansive foyer, past a dining room with a table for at least twenty, gleaming of rich dark walnut wood hues, past a kitchen that looked both practical and comfortable and onto a warm glassed in porch that looked out over a sloping lawn to the lake.
Tony noticed something else. A vibe of some sort…a small electrical charge was building between his partner and this tall, beautiful, exotic woman. There were no sparks flying, but there was a low frequency buzz happening, a kind of sizzle. He grinned, but it went unnoticed.
“I’ve seen you somewhere before,” she said to Ray. Her voice was tinged with an unfamiliar accent. Tony tried to place it as he listened to her.
“I can’t think of where we might have met.” Ray accepted the tea she offered him.
“It will come to me.” She smiled and nodded at Tony when she offered him tea but didn’t address him. She turned back to Ray. “It’s such a sad, tragic day.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. You and Mrs. Fredrickson were close, weren’t you?” Lakisha turned away, looked out the windows toward the gray-blue unsettled water.
“Kind of like the day, as if all color has been drawn from it and it’s turned cold and ugly. Like a light has been turned off. Deanna was such a good person. This is so ugly.” She lifted her head up and breathed deeply. She seemed determined not to cry. “Who would do such a thing?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out, Mrs. Marland.”
“You shall call me Lakisha and I shall call you…Rayford, isn’t it?”
Tony figured she wasn’t going to call him anything.
“I have to ask you some questions, Lakisha. Some may be hard.”
“Not as hard as losing a friend.” Ray nodded and poised his pen over the pad that had appeared in his lap. Tony got his out too.