The Wicked Wife (Murder in Marin Book 2) (27 page)

“This is your party, Eddie,” Deputy Nat Tompkins, one of the departments longest serving deputies, said. “How do you want to proceed?”

“Here’s what I’m thinking. If Willow Adams was murdered, my guess is that it occurred somewhere between here, and about a mile down the road heading back toward Tam Junction. After a less than a mile, you lose the wooded undeveloped areas and start seeing more homes. Along that stretch, there are four dugouts where drivers often pull off the road and park. We’ve all been around the county long enough to know that people pull off into these areas to do everything from smoking dope to doing harder drugs, to having sex. And then there are some who just want to explore a small patch of wilderness. If Mrs. Adams was killed, it’s reasonable to suspect that the killer was either with her in the car; or she was lured into one of these dugouts by someone standing by the edge of the road. If that was the case, I’d guess it was someone she knew.”

“Then we should split up and check the woods around the dugouts,” Tompkins said.

“That’s right. You, Mike, and Buck take the dugout nearest here. Bettie, Mason, and I will take the first one beyond that. Fan out about five hundred feet in each direction. Give it thirty or so minutes. Afterward, walk down the road to our location. We’ll do the same thing at the last two dugouts. Please remember, tread lightly. If my hunch is right, we might be walking into the middle of a crime scene.”

“If we come up empty, what then, Detective Austin?” Bettie Sheryl asked.

“Then, this afternoon, I’ll be back with search dogs to check again,” Eddie said quickly. “One other thing, we’ve got three patrol cars out here right now. So far, we’ve been able to keep this thing off the radar and out of the press. At least for now, I’d like to continue to keep this as quiet as we can. Let’s take the three cars and park them up by the stables, to the left of the trailhead. Then we can walk back.”

“That adds another half mile to the distance we’re walking,” Mike Palmer complained.

“Give me a break, Mike!” Eddie said, as he glanced at the deputy’s belly. “You could use the added exercise.”

“What do you want us to say if one of the nosy old buzzards who love to bird watch around here asks what we’re doing?” Nat asked.

“Tell them we’re checking for the fresh tracks of a mountain lion because we’ve had several reports of one being seen in the area. That will send the birders running off in the opposite direction.”

That gave all of them a good laugh. “Nothing gets people moving along like those two words—mountain lion,” Mason Neufeld declared, and then added, “But why are you trying so hard to keep it hush-hush, Eddie?”
 

“Do any of you remember a year ago, when the southern part of the county was crawling with paparazzi covering the wedding of the millionaire model and the billionaire boyfriend? We’ve been able to sit on this for the last few days, but the moment it gets out that Willow Adams is missing—or worse, murdered—you can forget about preserving any crime scene. If we do find a body, we need to secure the area immediately. We won’t be able to do much about the media circus, but we can put up a tent and barriers. Of course, if there is a body out there, there’s a chance the site has already been disturbed. But maybe we’ll get lucky and come up with shoe prints, or possibly more than that. So let’s stay alert and play smart. Hopefully, we’ll catch a break.”

Eddie was right. On occasion, a curious passerby or two asked whether there was something going on, and the mountain lion story sent them heading back to their cars.
 

Just a year earlier, on a Mount Tam trail, a mountain biker was attacked and killed by a female fearing for the safety of her two cubs. Mountain lion attacks, particularly fatal ones, are rare. But this recent encounter dampened the interest of the most intrepid amateur explorers and kept people on the trails most traveled by fellow humans.
 

The first and second dugouts appeared to be undisturbed. There had been no noticeable movement of the fallen leaves that were still scattered about from the previous year, and some recent early rain season activity had softened the ground and given it some much needed moisture.
 

The next time the five deputies plus Eddie regrouped, Eddie, Mason, and Bettie took the next one down the road, while Nat, Mike, and Buck headed to the fourth and last dugout.

Eddie was particularly interested in this third site because it was arguably the one with the deepest wooded section behind it, and least visible to cars heading to or from the trailhead. He and the two deputies walked the half dozen feet down into what is most often a dry creek bed, and then a little further back into the deeper cover of the trees. Even though the sun was high enough up to provide adequate light, the canopy of trees created enough shadow to encourage Bettie and Mason to put on their flashlights to better see any possible disturbances to the surrounding landscape.

Separately, they both saw areas that looked like leaves and fallen branches may have been moved. All three checked carefully, and found nothing. After going as deep into the bramble as they felt reasonable, they turned around and headed back to where they had entered the woods. Bettie kept pointing the beam of her flashlight up and around to her right. Mason, who was standing on the other side of Eddie, swept the perimeter to his left.

“Wait a minute,” Bettie muttered in a soft voice. “Take a look over there.”

With the help of her searchlight, she noticed a pile of leaves that stood out from its surroundings—a sign that the spot had recently been disturbed.

“Let’s take it slow and easy,” Eddie warned. “If we’ve got something, we want to leave it as pristine as possible.” Eddie asked Mason to pick up a couple of long branches.
 

As they reached the site, each of them thought they detected the smell of perfume. Bettie said, “That’s her perfume—Willow Wisp!”

They used their sticks to clear the pile of leaves, and came upon a clear vinyl garment bag.
 

The nude body of Willow Adams was inside, exposed and encased for the entire world to see. She was lying on her back. Her blue eyes wide open, and her skin a macabre mix of chalk white and gray.
 

Mason, embarrassed for the deceased celebrity, turned away. Bettie ran back into the woods and deposited her breakfast of eggs and ham behind a tree.
 

Eddie stood there, transfixed by the sight. “Wow,” he murmured. “This was the work of one sick son of a bitch.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

It took less than thirty minutes for the circus to begin.
 

Crime technicians began combing the area in the hope that some trace evidence might be preserved. A tent was placed over the site where Willow had been hastily buried. Powerful portable lights were placed inside. Yellow tape announcing, “Crime Scene Do Not Enter,” marked off the entire perimeter of the dugout.
 

Max Brownstein, the county medical examiner, arrived during this early flurry of activity.
 

“From what I can see, this area has been mostly undisturbed,” Max told Eddie. “Between slipping the body into this bag and dousing it with perfume it either did not attract, or more likely repelled, coyotes, raccoons, bobcats, or any of our other four-footed friends from digging around the area or disturbing the corpse. At least for the approximately ninety-six hours that she’s been out here. Did you say she went missing Saturday morning, between nine and ten?”

“That’s our best guesstimate.”

“Well, the body is obviously in good condition. Her killer took care of that. I’m going to ask that the body be removed to the morgue for examination there. That will leave this area for the crime techs to work over. From what I can see, without even attempting to turn the body over, it’s likely that she was struck from behind, and it was likely a fatal blow.”

“How so, doc?”

“When you get in a little closer to the body, you can see the back of her hair appears to be caked with blood that has turned dark and gelatinous over the last few days. Nothing bleeds like a blow to the head because the scalp is highly vascular. Back at the morgue, we’re going to have to spend some time washing that area down and cutting her hair loose from this bag. My guess is that we’ve probably quite a mess back there.”

“Well, now, I’ve got to call her husband and break the news.”

“I wouldn’t want your job, Eddie,” Brownstein said.

“The feeling is mutual, doc!”

Eddie called the Adams residence. Mrs. Jackson answered the phone and told him that William was working in his home office.
 

“Please tell him that I have some information for him. I’ll be there in twenty minutes or less.”

Eddie had taken an instant liking to William, and knew that as soon as the media storm began, Adams would be the number one suspect for many people. Personally, he considered it a ten-to-one shot that William was somehow connected to Willow’s death. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to see for himself how he reacted to the news about her body being found.

Once inside the Adams home, Mrs. Jackson led Eddie to William’s office, where he was greeted and invited to take a seat.

It’s just about the worst news anyone could be entrusted to deliver, and it was far from Eddie’s first time. But unlike other jobs, this one did not get easier with practice.

“Any news?” William asked, attempting to sound upbeat.

“Yes, sir. Unfortunately, it’s the worst possible kind.”

“Oh, God,” William said, as he lowered his head and quietly began to weep. “How many men do you suppose have had to hear this kind of news twice in their lives?”

Eddie was tempted to point out that one wife was lost to an accident and the other to what he suspected was a deranged killer, but that didn’t seem to be very helpful at the moment. Instead, he explained the location where they found the body, avoiding details for now, about such things as the garment bag and the fact that she had been stripped nude.
 

“The medical examiner just had Willow’s body taken up to the morgue. They’ll want you up there to make a formal identification. Any time between now and the end of the day will be fine.”

“Would I be imposing to ask if you might take me up there? I can have my driver bring me back.”

Eddie thought for a moment, and then answered. “Sure, happy to do it.”

“Thank you, detective. I’m a little numb right now. I suppose I should call Willow’s parents, but I don’t have their number. They live in Larkspur.”

“Give me their last name.”

Moments later, Eddie handed William the number. William called the Bukowskis home number and left a simple message for either of her parents to call his private cell.

“Willow never told me much about her parents. I knew it was a difficult subject for her. I was always tempted to ask why, but I avoided the topic. It was unusual to me. My late wife Fran and I were both very close to our parents. Now that Willow is gone, I feel I should have asked about their relationship. At least I could better understand the distance between them. I suppose we all put off the difficult topics until it’s too late.”
 

At this point, Eddie thought the kindest thing he could do was just listen.