The Ginseng Conspiracy (A Kay Driscoll Mystery) (8 page)

Deirdre and Elizabeth both huffed and turned to me. Deirdre frowned, her arms folded over her chest. Elizabeth glowered, red in the face. “Kay,” Deirdre said, defiantly, glancing at Elizabeth.

My jaw tensed. “Later,” I said, shaking my head. I was tired of always having to be the peacemaker when the two of them got started.

A wave of nausea rose from my stomach as well. I fell silent and sat down on the cold ground, taking a couple of deep breaths. I wrapped my arms around my bent knees close to my chest, facing away from both of them toward the professor, and waited for the police to come. I knew it was a crime scene, but what made Elizabeth think so? Perhaps because of all the CSI-type shows and books that were so popular. Nowadays, everyone was an expert on everything because they saw an actor do it on television or read about it in a book from a mystery author. I couldn’t think of anything to say to Elizabeth or Deirdre that wouldn't betray that I knew more about the professor’s death. I had to think this through. My heartbeat throbbed in my temples, and their bickering didn't help matters.

The events of last night flashed in my mind. I felt so damned guilty. I should have done something, anything. Could I have changed the way this all had turned out? Al knew this was our usual walk we took each day. I had just mentioned it to him a few days ago. He was nearby when Deirdre asked me last night if I wanted to walk today. Was finding Walter's body a little too neat? Did Al leave the professor here for us to find? For me to find? As a warning? Had he recognized me in the vacant store? Oh my gosh! I wanted to
scream
, but I needed to appear calm.

Fifteen minutes later, sirens wailed in the distance. It seemed like hours since Elizabeth had made the call. Like a shot, I stood up. The police arrived first. They identified the body as Professor Sherman Walters. Deputy Chief Bill Murphy and Detective Ron Carstairs started questioning us as to the circumstances of our discovery. Of course Bill Murphy, one of the hooded conspirators, would be the first one to show up. Elizabeth did most of the talking. Murphy went off and made a call on his cell phone while Carstairs stayed with us.

“Carstairs, get this area secured right away,” Murphy said, returning. “The forensic team will be here soon.”

Ten minutes later, the ambulance arrived with two white-jacketed attendants. Dr. Anders, the county coroner, who I worked with at the free clinic, stepped out of his Mercedes-Benz CLS wearing a lab coat over his suit. He must have been at work when he received the call. He looked tired. Dr. Anders pulled on latex gloves, glanced at his watch, and knelt down next to the body. I watched him as he examined the professor. He turned over the body with the help of one of the attendants. After a brief examination, he stood up, took off the gloves, and went over and talked to the police officers putting the crime scene tape up. I heard him say the words, “accidental drowning.” While the crime photographer took pictures, Dr. Anders looked up at me and came over as I was looking at the body.

“Kay, you found the body?

“My friends and I discovered the professor lying in the water. We were on a walk,” I said, looking into his steely gray eyes.

Dr. Anders shook his head. “Terrible accident.”

“Accident? Are you sure?” I asked.

“That's what it looks like to me,” he said, gesturing at the scene by the river.

I shrugged my shoulders.

“I did a preliminary exam. It looks like Professor Walters slipped on the rocks near the water, fell, and hit his head, which would explain the contusions on his scalp. He must have landed, unconscious, face down in the water and drowned. His body got caught up on the rocks or the current would have carried him downstream. Of course, Kay, I'll be doing an autopsy to confirm the exact cause and manner of death.” Good, I thought. The toxicology report would show the drugs in the professor's body that were used to knock him out cold in the vacant store.

“Dr. Anders, I noticed the discoloration on the professor's body. Look, you can see the reddish-blue discoloration of livor mortis on the body which occurs, I believe, around ten hours after death, meaning he would have been walking around here in the middle of the night,” I said. “There aren't any lights in this area. It doesn't make sense he would be down here by the water at that time.”

Couldn't Dr. Anders figure out this wasn't an accidental death? Did I need to spell it out for him?

“Kay, I don't have any idea what he was doing here. All I can do is determine if there is, in fact, water present in his airway and stomach and if the lungs are swollen up. If these signs are present, then his death is due to drowning, which is what I am expecting to see. If anything else, like blood in the lungs or a spasm in the larynx shows up, we may have a different story.”

He sure seemed terse and matter of fact. I walked back to Deirdre and Elizabeth standing a few yards away. Deputy Chief Bill Murphy came over and said, “Ladies, I'm going down to the police station soon. Please meet me there in thirty minutes to give your statements.” He turned to Dr. Anders and said, “Michael, Detective Ron Carstairs will be available to you if you need any assistance here.”

Ron Carstairs turned to Bill Murphy and asked, “What about searching the area?” My ears perked up.

“Sure, we will,” Murphy replied.

Yeah, you bet. I'm sure he didn't mean it at all.

“We’d better head over to the police station, then,” Elizabeth said.

What kind of statement was I going to make to Bill Murphy? Was Carstairs involved, too? Bill Murphy had sounded casual about doing a search. Was all of police department involved? Should I speak to Dr. Anders before we left about what I saw in the vacant store? I trusted him. I knew if any evidence still existed, it may not last for long. I decided to keep quiet, not wanting to take the chance that Bill Murphy might overhear what I said. Perhaps later.

As we left to go to the police station, the photographer packed up his cameras, and the paramedics placed Walters into a body bag. I shook my head. I wish I had done something, anything to prevent his death last night. Deirdre saw me and put her arm around my shoulder. “Tough time,” she said. If she only knew.

* * * *

When we arrived at the police station, we were directed into a small windowless room, the walls bare of any features. In the center of the room was a large table with three chairs on each side. A few minutes later, Bill Murphy came in carrying a recorder and sat down at the table opposite from us, the overhead light reflecting off of his shaved head. He placed the recorder on the table and pushed the button to turn it on. “Let’s start at the beginning,” he said, folding his muscular, hairy arms over his gray and blue uniform. “What were you doing on campus this morning?”

“The three of us walk in the morning during the week,” Elizabeth said.

He smiled at Elizabeth and asked, “Ms. Sullivan, is this the usual path you walk on Sundays?”

Deirdre took over. “Usually we walk during the work week, but we were at the Halloween Ball last night, all three of us, and we wanted to talk about it.”

“Yes, I recall seeing you three at the Ball,” he said, glancing over at Elizabeth. He bit at his lower lip. A gleam reflected in his blue eyes. Changing gears, he asked, “Did you know the deceased?”

Bill Murphy made me sick just looking at the smirk on his face.

“I knew Sherman from the college,” Elizabeth said. “I work at the library.”

“We would see him going to school on our walks most mornings,” Deirdre added. “We must have left our homes about the same time as the professor.”

“When was the last time you saw Professor Walters alive?”

“I think it was on Friday morning,” Elizabeth said. “We did see him Friday morning, didn’t we?”

“Yes,” Deirdre nodded.

Murphy looked at me with his ruthless eyes. “Yes, we saw him on Friday,” I said.

“Do you have anything else to say?” he asked me.

I paused. This was all so unreal. The murderer questioning the three of us. “No, I think you pretty much know everything.”

“Well that's it for now,” Bill Murphy said, his eyes squinting at me. “Thank you for your time. I'm sorry you had to go through such a terrible shock this morning. Ladies, you can wait out in the hall until your statements are typed up. Sign them, and then you are free to go.” He stood up and walked over to open the door of the room.

“What about Professor Walters' wife, Mary Ann? Has anyone told her?” Elizabeth asked.

“An officer has already contacted her.”

Deirdre and I left the room. As Elizabeth walked toward the door, Bill Murphy closed it a bit. I heard him say, “Ms. Sullivan, if I need further information on this case, I may have to give you a call. If you think of anything additional, please let me give you my number.”

Elizabeth came out into the hallway where we are waiting, tucking a card into her pocket.

Deirdre opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Elizabeth said to her, “Let me guess...bad aura.”

“Yes, he is so far removed from the constructive forces of the universe,” Deirdre said.

“Deirdre...” Elizabeth started.

I went over to Elizabeth and slipped my arm beneath hers so that our arms locked together. “Come on, Elizabeth.” I did the same to Deirdre with my other arm and said, “Let’s wait outside.” The three of us walked down the long hallway together, arm in arm and out the door, to wait until we could sign the typed statements.

* * * *

On the way back from the police station we passed Margaret’s house. Her car was in the driveway. I was surprised to see that she was back from her sister's so soon.

By the time I arrived home, Phil had already left for band practice. A note on the table said he'd be back in the late afternoon. This gave me some time to think about what had happened. The discovery of Sherman Walters shook me up. With an icy chill still lingering in my body, I ran a bath and sank into the warm water.

Lots of questions ran through my mind. What should I do about Sherman’s murder? I never felt more out of control. I had always worked with the police, not against them. Beyond a doubt, what did I know? The professor was murdered and the identity of two of the six people in the vacant store with a third person named John. Who else was involved? Even when the toxicology report showed drugs in the professor's body, nothing would be known about the people in the vacant store.

Chances are Bill Murphy would run the investigation in the wrong directions, all leading to nowhere. What was needed was some solid evidence. For now, if I came forward, it would be my word again six others, one of those a Deputy Chief of Police and the other a well respected member of the community. Were other police officers involved? And what about the professor? What had been the motivation to kill him?

After eating a hot pastrami on rye sandwich for lunch, I decided to go over to Margaret’s and see what I could find out from her. I put the costumes into a bag along with her mail and headed over to her house. How could I bring up the topic of the silk gossamer robe in her attic? Obviously she or her husband belonged to the group I saw on Saturday night. Just a few days ago we were having a carefree tea at Marissa’s, and now I viewed her with suspicion.

Margaret must have seen me coming because she opened the door before I even had a chance to ring her bell. Or was she expecting someone else?

“Margaret, you're back early,” I said, smiling. “How's your sister doing?”

“She seemed to be feeling much better than I thought, my dear. We had a nice visit, catching up.”

“Did you come back today?”

“Just over an hour ago. I have some business to attend to.”

“Your package arrived from China.” I handed over her mail.

“Thank you, Kay.” She placed it on the table beside the door. “You don't have to stand out there with those costumes. Would you like to come in?”

I stepped through the doorway with the bagged costumes. My eyes darted up the stairs leading to the attic, but then, through the corner of my eye, I saw Margaret watching me, so I turned to face her. “Did you hear about Professor Walters drowning?”

“Yes, the poor man. How horrible.” Margaret looked somewhat somber but for the most part, uninterested.

I kept on topic, scanning for any flicker of emotion across Margaret’s face. “Did you know him?”

“No.”

“Two of my friends and I discovered his body this morning in the river while walking on campus. Quite upsetting. We just came back from making our statements to the police, to Bill Murphy actually. You must know Bill Murphy.”

I watched Margaret, how fragile she appeared. She wasn't her usual bold, confident self today. Her chin quivered a bit. Could she be involved in anything this shady? I couldn’t imagine, but how to explain the hooded robes like the one I saw in her attic?

Margaret changed the subject without answering my question about Bill Murphy. “How was the party, my dear? Which costumes did you choose?”

“It was magical,” I lied, sounding a bit too enthusiastic. I wiped some sweat from my forehead. Be calm. Calm, my new personal mantra. I should talk to Deirdre about relaxation exercises.

“I chose this fairy costume for myself and the Sherlock Holmes costume for Phil.” I took them out of the bag, thankful I didn't choose the silk gossamer hooded robe. “Phil looked great as Sherlock Holmes.”