Best Laid Plans (8 page)

Most deaths were natural, and the Medical Examiner could give answers when no one else could. There was a methodical process that was comforting in its order, from logging the body to the external exam to the actual autopsy. But what Lucy liked the most was the overlaying sense of calm and serenity. There was a deep respect for the dead.

The Bexar County Medical Examiner’s office was much larger and busier than she was accustomed to, even in D.C., because it was a teaching facility located at the University of Texas Health Science Center. But the sights and smells were the same, and Lucy felt immediately at ease.

Julie Peters had left their names at the main desk, and they were escorted to Julie’s cubicle by a quiet intern.

“I was right,” Julie said before Lucy or Barry could say hello
.
She didn’t look at them, but continued filling out a form.

“About what?” Lucy asked.

“Everything.”

“You’re done already?”

“It’s noon. Of course I’m done. I can’t give you an official report because I don’t have toxicology and a few other tests, and I need my boss to sign off on my findings, but I
can
tell you that he died of asphyxiation.”

“He was strangled?” Barry asked.

“Nope,” Julie said. “He couldn’t breathe.”

“Suffocated?” Lucy said.

“Not exactly. There were no signs of bruising around his nose and mouth, and no fibers in his mouth, nose, or throat.”

“Asphyxiation is the lack of oxygen,” Lucy said. “If he wasn’t strangled, drowned, or physically suffocated, it would have to be chemical or natural, like an allergy.”

“Hence, my need for toxicology before I can make an official determination. But I have some facts that may help in your investigation. First, the deceased was already dead when his pants were removed. He’d voided his bladder when he died.”

“I thought that only happened in a violent death,” Barry said.

Julie shook her head. “It can happen to anyone at time of death, particularly if their bladder was full. Blood stops circulating, lungs stop working, muscles relax, et cetera. It really depends on a variety of factors, but it’s not uncommon.

“Second, the victim did not have sex near the time of death. There was no semen in the urethra or ducts—which means he wasn’t aroused. No pre-cum in his pants, nothing to indicate sexual excitement.”

“Some sexual predators can’t ejaculate,” Lucy said. “I worked a case in D.C. where a rapist brutalized his victims with foreign objects because he couldn’t orgasm.”

“It happens, but in this case I doubt it—all his equipment is there and appears to be in working order, but some drugs can have an impact on sexual performance, for better or worse,” Julie said. “For my next fact, I found saliva on his penis. A quick test determined that it was female, but I’ve asked for a complete DNA analysis.”

“How old was the saliva?” Lucy asked.

Julie snapped her fingers. “Smart girl! There was
no
saliva or female DNA in his underwear. Nada. Our forensic lab examined the underwear extremely meticulously—at my request—using all the tools at our disposal. So I would testify under oath that the saliva wasn’t present until after his pants were pulled down.”

“Which means that he was dead.”

Julie grinned. “Yep.”

“That’s disgusting,” Barry said.

Lucy had investigated worse. Nothing about human nature surprised her anymore.

“And?” she asked Julie.

“You think there’s more?”

“You could have told Barry all of that over the phone. Which means you want to show us something.”

“You’re so right. I could just let you read the report, but I think in a sensitive case like this, you need to see what I saw.” Julie stood and motioned for them to follow.

“The crime techs confirmed that there was vodka on his shirt and neck, but it’s clear someone poured it into his mouth,” Julie said. “We have a down-and-dirty blood alcohol test, and his BAC was zero. His stomach contents are consistent with having had a meal at approximately six thirty this evening. We’re running the contents for common poisons, but he had no external symptoms of natural toxins, such as anaphylactic shock that might occur with a shellfish or peanut allergy. I have his medical records, and he has no known allergies.”

They were at the end of the hall and Julie led them into the locker room. “Booties and gloves. Can’t have contamination.”

Both Lucy and Barry put on the gear Julie handed them, and she led them across the hall to one of the autopsy bays.

One autopsy was currently being performed by three other pathologists. Julie nodded to them as they passed, then on the far side of the room she pulled back a plastic sheet that hung from the ceiling to reveal the body of Harper Worthington laid out on a steel autopsy table. His chest had already been sewn back together.

“I’ve already talked to the crime techs about this, and they’re going to come back with a plausible theory after they play with their computers. Because I absolutely know what this is, I just can’t picture how it happened.”

Julie turned on the bright overhead light. It made Worthington look even more pale, but every imperfection was visible. Julie tilted his head a bit and Lucy peered at a small red mark that was halfway between the side and the back of his neck.

“It looks like a puncture mark. A needle, perhaps.”

“Looks like. Cops.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, it
looks
like a needle mark because it
is
a needle mark.”

Barry asked, “What was he injected with?”

“Don’t know yet. I took tissue and blood samples and the lab knows this is a priority, but you’re going to have to give us a day or two. I know it’s nothing common—I can test for most narcotics right here. It would have to be fast acting, because there was no sign of a struggle. No defensive wounds. No skin under his nails. He didn’t fall to his knees or hit his head. I can’t picture how someone could get close enough to inject him and he didn’t at least try to get away. But you saw the room—it was tidy.”

Lucy could picture a couple different scenarios, but one seemed the most plausible. She said, “That lends credence to the fact that a prostitute was in the room and Worthington intended to have sex with her. Maybe they were kissing and the girl puts the needle into his neck. He pushes her away, but can’t move. Collapses onto the bed. That would have to be an extremely fast-acting drug.”

She walked around the table, collecting her thoughts. “But why? What’s the motive? Did she kill him for kicks?”

“A Thelma-and-Louise spree,” Julie suggested.

“That doesn’t feel right. You say he didn’t have sex, that he was fully dressed when he died. No evidence that he hurt the prostitute—the taxi driver didn’t mention the girl was injured, and he doesn’t have any bruises or cuts on his hands. This wasn’t random. He was lured from Dallas for one hour of sex with a prostitute.”

“If,” Barry interjected, “his wife knew about his fetish, she could have hired someone.”

Lucy’s eyes widened. “I thought you didn’t believe she had anything to do with this.”

“You got me thinking about the possibility,” he said.

She almost smiled. “How would his death, if it was ruled natural causes, benefit her politically?”

“Sympathy votes.”

“I’d think she’d get more negative press than sympathy,” Lucy said.

“She’d be a widow. Her opponent wouldn’t be able to run any real negative ads against her or her record without being made to look like a jerk. Eventually, the circumstances would fade away, leaving behind only the fact that she lost her husband during the campaign. There could be extenuating circumstances—does she gain financially from his death?” Barry was on a roll. “I’m not saying I think she’s behind it—I don’t know. But it sounds to me like Julie is calling this a homicide.”

“I’m right here,” Julie said, holding up her hands. “And I haven’t made my official determination. I’m calling his death suspicious right now. When I get the lab results on what he was injected with and talk to the ME about my findings, I’ll revise that. But unofficially? Hell yeah, someone killed him. Whether the girl did it on her own or was hired to do it, who knows? That’s where you two come in.”

Barry was thanking Julie when Lucy interrupted. “What did his liver look like?”

“It was a bit enlarged. I took tissue samples, which is standard protocol in a suspicious death like this with no obvious COD.”

Liver tests could take a day or a week, depending. But there was something familiar about Worthington’s death.

“What are you thinking?” Julie asked her.

“I worked a case when I was on vacation last Christmas—”

Julie interrupted. “Why am I not surprised that you worked while on vacation?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Not my choice. I sort of walked into a situation. Anyway, a nurse used a neuromuscular blocker to kill her victims. Reaction time is fast, death usually less than thirty minutes, depending on the dose. Almost impossible to detect unless you know what to test for.”

“I’ll make sure I checked all the boxes,” Julie said. “And give the lab a heads-up.”

“Thank you, Julie,” Lucy said.

“Just doing my job.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

The elegant chain hotel where Worthington’s phone was still transmitting was only a few miles from the White Knight, but a world of difference. Grand entrance off a busy street, elegant furniture set out in intimate groupings, a restaurant to the right with a hostess and white linen tablecloths, a bar to the left with businessmen and businesswomen drinking alone or in small groups.

Barry and Lucy talked first to the concierge, then the manager, and finally the head of security got involved. Andreas Jackson was a tall, broad-shouldered black man dressed in an impeccable dark suit, white shirt, and navy tie. An earpiece with the telltale curling cord curved around the back of his ear and under his collar. He escorted them to the security office upstairs. Two people watched a wall of twelve security monitors. Jackson’s office was in the corner, and he had one-way windows that looked out to the lobby below.

Barry explained again what they needed and gave Jackson the specs of the phone, a BlackBerry P’9983.

“It’s a relatively new model,” Barry added.

“There was no such phone turned in from the public areas in the last twenty-four hours,” Jackson said. “If he was a guest, housekeeping may not have gotten to his room, or he may not have checked out.”

“He wasn’t a guest,” Lucy said.

Barry said, “A person of interest took his phone after our contractor died. The phone is now here.”

Jackson picked up his phone, spoke for a minute, then hung up. “The housekeeping supervisor is checking with her staff and will contact me directly.” He sat down behind his desk and motioned for them to take seats in chairs across from him, which they did. “If the phone is in this hotel, we’ll find it.” He eyed them with interest. “Government secrets? Must be serious if two federal agents are looking for a phone.”

Barry glanced at Lucy, though she didn’t know what he wanted from her. He then turned back to Jackson and said, “The phone was stolen from a deceased government contractor.”

“If you have a GPS log, I can review the security footage from our public areas at the time the phone entered the hotel.”

“That would be helpful,” Barry said. “Thank you.” He wrote down a time frame and tore the page from his notepad. “This is the window we’re looking at.”

Jackson pressed a button on his phone. “Please cut a copy of security feeds from all entrances from twelve thirty
A.M.
through one
A.M.
” He turned back to Barry and Lucy. “Only the main entrance is unlocked after ten
P.M.
, but I’ll get you feeds from all the entrances in case the individual in question had a hotel room key.”

“We appreciate that,” Barry said.

Jackson’s phone rang and he excused himself. Barry pulled out his phone and responded to a message. “Jolene Hayden called headquarters and wants to meet with us as soon as possible.”

Lucy looked at her watch. It was late in the afternoon. Adeline had told Jolene seven hours ago about her father’s death. “When?” Lucy said.

“It’s nearly five. We’ve been going since five this morning.”

Lucy was used to working a case until she was exhausted. It helped her sleep, for one. And for two, she couldn’t put work out of her mind when she was mulling things over. But it had been a long day.

“Her father just died. She’ll be an emotional wreck,” Barry added. “It would be better to talk to her after a night to process.”

“She may have helpful information. She was in Dallas with her father, she may know why he was coming to San Antonio.”

“I thought of that, which is why I had Zach call her and ask her to come in first thing Monday morning.” He glanced at her. She couldn’t read Barry well. When she thought she understood what he was all about, he agreed with her on something and surprised her, or disagreed and surprised her. She didn’t know how his mind worked. “Some advice?”