Ricochet (30 page)

The professional repercussions of this situation might account for some of his crankiness.

Gerard reappeared to check on how the judge was holding up, and also to ask DeeDee to notify Napoli’s secretary of her boss’s demise and see about contacting his next of kin.

Upon hearing the news, the secretary lapsed into hysteria. It surprised DeeDee that Napoli could evoke that much emotion — except perhaps fury or repulsion — from another human being. Once she had calmed down, the secretary explained that Napoli had no relatives that she knew of and agreed to go to the morgue in the morning to identify his body.

She also demanded to know what was being done to track down the “monster” who’d shot him. DeeDee assured her that homicide detectives were on the case to do just that.

The sky was turning gray with approaching dawn and DeeDee was on her third six-pack of Diet Coke when Duncan and Worley trudged in. Worley looked exhausted and glum. Duncan looked like something dug up from Colonial Cemetery next door.

They’d barely cleared the doorway when Laird pounced on them. “Well?”

“Get us some coffee, will ya?”

DeeDee was about to remind Worley that fetching his coffee wasn’t in her job description. But she took a closer look at Duncan’s haggard face and realized that he needed a pick-me-up, and needed it in a hurry. She went to pour two cups of coffee, but kept her ears tuned to what was being said.

“The GPA and DOT have agreed to give us the outside lane of the bridge for a while longer,” Worley said, referring to the Georgia Port Authority and the Department of Transportation. “They’re not happy about it. It’ll create a bitch of a traffic problem come morning rush hour, but we want that scene for as long as we can have it. Something may show up in daylight that we missed tonight.”

He gratefully took the Styrofoam cup of coffee from DeeDee. Duncan didn’t seem to notice the cup she extended to him until she nudged his shoulder. He looked at her blankly for several seconds, then reached for the coffee.

“Never mind the traffic jam,” Laird said. “What are you doing to locate Elise?” He addressed the question to Duncan.

“The canine unit has all the dogs out. They’re combing both banks of the river and Hutchinson Island.”

“That’s very limited. What about the other islands between here and the ocean?” the judge asked. “Are those being searched?”

No one wanted to tell him that rarely did a person make it as far as the mouth of the river. For all the accident victims and jumpers who had gone off the bridge, DeeDee knew of only one who had survived the fall. Usually a body surfaced within a few days, depending on the time of year and the temperature. It would show up somewhere along River Street or near the Corps of Engineers’ dock on Hutchinson Island, which divided that stretch of the river into two channels.

“We’ll expand the ground search as needed, Judge,” Gerard said diplomatically. “What else, Dunk?”

“An APB was issued with a physical description of Mrs. Laird, so that engages state troopers, this department, the sheriff’s office. The marine patrol is searching every channel of the river. The Coast Guard has already launched one craft,” he said. “It’s cruising the Atlantic coastline, but…”

But, again, rarely did a body make it that far before reappearing, DeeDee thought. If it got that far, it would probably be lost forever.

“Coast Guard will also have search-and-rescue teams in choppers,” Duncan said. “They’re being mobilized as we speak. We’ve had the department’s helicopters airborne almost since you left the bridge and came back here.” The update seemed to have sapped what energy Duncan had left. He paused to sip his coffee.

“I’ve heard that the main switchboard has been lit up with incoming calls,” Gerard said. “People have seen the helicopter searchlights moving along the river, want to know what’s going on.”

“I don’t care who it inconveniences,” Laird said. “Keep those helicopters in the air.”

“Of course.” Gerard looked frazzled and annoyed. The judge’s imperious attitude had worn thin. “I tell you this only because if citizens want answers, you can be sure the media does. Sooner or later we’re going to have to address the reporters who’ve assembled downstairs.”

“We had to fight our way through them when we came in,” Worley said. “Didn’t tell them anything, of course.”

“I’ve fielded a half dozen calls myself that have come into the unit here under the pretense of having information on Mrs. Laird,” Gerard continued. “The press knows it was Meyer Napoli who got popped on the bridge. Reporters also know that Mrs. Laird is somehow involved, but they don’t know how or to what extent. You should be thinking about how you want to handle that, Judge.”

Laird deflated and sat down heavily in the nearest chair. In a matter of seconds, the fight went out of him and he acquired the lost, vulnerable, and defeated bearing of a victim. He slumped forward and stared at the floor.

They gave him those moments. No one said anything. For once, even Worley was sensitive enough to keep his crude mouth shut.

Finally Judge Laird raised his head and looked at Duncan. “Did you find
anything
? Any clue to her whereabouts?”

“That scrap of fabric.” Duncan cleared his throat and combed his fingers through his hair. By the look of it, that wasn’t the first time it had been thoughtlessly pushed back in that manner. “You, uh, you said you thought it came from a skirt belonging to Mrs. Laird.”

“I don’t think, I
know
.”

DeeDee said, “We covered that. The skirt was new as of today. A gift from him.”

DeeDee couldn’t imagine why that would make Duncan look so pained, but it did. He actually winced. “We don’t know how it came to be on the carrier,” he said. “Forensics dusted the rungs of the ladder for prints, but with all the workers who’ve gone up and down it…” He let the sentence trail, again seeming to have run out of steam.

“Any trace of the other sandal?”

Duncan shook his head. “No sign of it or of anything else belonging to her. As soon as it’s light, the department’s dive team will… will begin their search.”

The sound that came from the judge was very much like a dry sob.

DeeDee saw Duncan glance at Worley, who had become busy engraving a pattern onto his Styrofoam cup with his fingernail, his way of relinquishing this unpleasant duty to Duncan.

“What came to our attention that we didn’t notice earlier,” Duncan continued, “is that her sandal probably wasn’t removed voluntarily. The strap was still buckled.”

DeeDee said, “The sandal could be slipped on and off without unbuckling the strap. I’m almost sure.”

He nodded. “But the heel strap was torn out of the sole.”

Gerard asked, “How could that happen, Dunk?”

He rolled his shoulders as though they ached. “It would have taken some force, I think.” It wasn’t much of an answer, but it said enough, more than any of them wanted to address.

Duncan seemed to be finding it difficult to speak. DeeDee never remembered that happening before, not even when he’d had to notify a crime victim’s next of kin that the most horrendous fate imaginable had befallen his or her loved one.

“We’re checking the marks on the pavement against the heels on Napoli’s shoes,” he said, “but what it looks like is that he and Mrs. Laird engaged in some sort of struggle near the wall.” He spoke directly to the judge. “Maybe he stepped on the back of her sandal, causing the strap to break. Just because I found that piece of fabric on the carrier doesn’t mean that’s where it was ripped from her skirt. It could’ve drifted down there after being torn off during a struggle on the bridge.”

“Maybe over possession of the weapon,” Worley said, finally making a contribution. Everyone’s attention shifted to him. “We haven’t found Napoli’s pistol, but we’re working under the assumption that he was shot with it. However, Judge, if you’d inventory your guns as soon as you get home, we would appreciate it.”

The judge bristled. “Are you suggesting that Elise left home, armed with a pistol, for a meeting with Meyer Napoli?”

“She was trained in how to use a handgun,” DeeDee remarked, since it seemed she was the only cop in the room with balls enough to mention that. “Isn’t that what we were told?”

The judge turned to her, his eyes fierce with anger. “Yes, that’s what you were told. You were also told that she agreed to the training at my insistence. She didn’t like handling guns. She wouldn’t have taken one from home.”

“If you can account for all the handguns you own,” Duncan said, “and I’m betting you can, then we could rule out that Napoli was shot with a weapon belonging to you. In the meantime, we’re going on the assumption that it was his gun that killed him.”

“During a struggle over it outside the car, near the wall of the bridge?”

“That’s one theory,” Worley said in reply to Gerard’s question. “It’s only conjecture at this point.”

“Conjecture,” the judge said heatedly. “But you have
no
idea what actually happened, do you?”

“One thing we know,” Worley said, matching the judge’s testiness, “is that at some point one or both of them were in the backseat.”

“The backseat?”

Worley was too busy looking smug over the point he’d scored to reply, leaving Duncan to explain. “Baker’s guys collected grains of some compound from the floorboard carpet. Driver’s seat, passenger seat, backseat.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What compound?”

“We can’t be positive till we get the lab to confirm it, but it looks like ordinary cement,” Worley said. He rubbed his fingers together. “Ground up to dust, like. We called the morgue and asked Dr. Brooks’s assistant to check Napoli’s shoes. He confirmed there were traces of some gray stuff on the soles. Looks like gritty powder with chunks in it.

“And the same stuff was on the sole of Mrs. Laird’s sandal,” he went on. “Meaning, as I said, that one or both of them were in the backseat as well as the front.” He paused for effect. “If the lab can determine for sure what this stuff is, and give us a guess as to its origin, it might point us to where Napoli and Mrs. Laird linked up.”

Duncan dragged a hand down his face, catching DeeDee’s attention. She’d never seen him this shaken, not even after they’d left the most horrible of horrible homicides. She wondered, not for the first time, about the depth of his attraction to Elise Laird.

He wasn’t comporting himself like an objective policeman investigating a case. Naturally he would be concerned about the fate of any citizen who had disappeared from a crime scene where another individual had died. But he seemed to be inordinately upset by this crime scene in particular.

She stared at him long enough for him to sense it. When he looked over at her, she mouthed,
Are you all right
? He mouthed,
Just tired
, and went back to listening to Worley as he addressed Laird’s exception to his terminology.

“When I said ‘linked up,’ I wasn’t implying anything illicit, Judge. It was just a figure of speech.”

“Elise would not have agreed to meet that man. Especially alone. I’m sure he forced his way into her car.”

“Possibly,” Worley said behind a dry cough. “The car seems to be in perfect running condition. No flat tire, nothing like that. So we don’t know why they pulled over and stopped at the highest part of the bridge, when there are signs against parking posted every few yards. And then there’s the question of why they were headed back into the city, indicating that they’d been somewhere else and were returning. Any idea?”

“None.”

Worley continued, unfazed by the judge’s curtness. “We’ll ask for any possible eyewitnesses to come forward. Anyone who drove across the bridge ahead of that highway patrolman could have seen something. We can’t predict what an appeal to the public like that will yield. Ordinarily, it’s not much, but maybe this time will be an exception.”

Duncan said, “Detective Worley and I agree that at some point they got out of the car and were standing near the wall, but we don’t know why.”

“He was sitting on his business card,” DeeDee said. She explained to Judge Laird and Gerard that they’d found Napoli’s business card in the driver’s seat when his body was removed. “It’s unlikely he would have been sitting on it unless he’d got out, then got back in.”

Duncan nodded. “We don’t know why they got out, but if we’re reading the signs right, an altercation of some sort took place there along the wall. This theory is borne out by the broken sandal, the fabric ripped from Mrs. Laird’s skirt, and the scuff marks on the pavement.”

“You’re thinking that Napoli was holding her at gunpoint?” Gerard said, asking for clarification.

“Again it’s conjecture, Bill, but that’s a distinct possibility,” Duncan said. “If we’re able to find Napoli’s weapon and determine that it fired the fatal shot, then it becomes an even greater possibility.”

“How so?”

“Indications are that the pistol was fired from close range directly into his stomach, so more than likely he was facing the individual who shot him. But he was found sitting face forward behind the steering wheel of the car. In order to get a shot like that, the shooter would have had to reach around him from the side. That would be an awkward, to say nothing of inconvenient, angle for anyone either standing in the open door of the car or sitting in the passenger seat. That’s why we think maybe — and I emphasize
maybe
— that he was shot outside the car.”

“Was there an exit wound?” Gerard asked.

“No. First thing Dothan looked for when he removed the body. That’s why there was so little blood and Napoli caught most of it in his hands.” He paused, then summarized. “Worley and I think it’s possible that while they were wrestling over the pistol, it discharged. Clutching his wound, Napoli managed to get back into the car before he died.”

“But that doesn’t explain where Elise is,” the judge said, looking around wildly. “If… if it was as you described, then she was trying to protect herself, fighting for her life. Right? Maybe he was trying to push her… .”

Worley coughed behind his hand again. “Possibly.”

Duncan looked ready to hurl chow.