Читать книгу Samurai Code - Don Easton - Страница 13

8

It was two o’clock in the morning when Corporal Connie Crane arrived at Coquitlam River Park, where the murder had been reported. She was the second member of the Integrated Homicide Investigative team to arrive.

Several marked and unmarked police cars lined the side of the main road, and yellow police tape sealed off a small, gravelled parking lot leading into the park. Inside the park, floodlights running on generators were being turned on, sending an array of light and shadows through the trees.

She parked behind a patrol car and approached two uniformed officers standing near the tape.

“I’m with I-HIT,” she explained, reaching for her badge inside her windbreaker. “Do you know where my partner —”

“Over here, CC!” yelled Dallas, answering her question.

Connie ducked under the crime scene tape and approached Dallas. He was a new addition to I-HIT and this was only their second case together. He was a blood-splatter expert, which was a field of expertise unto itself. CC felt he had distinguished himself on their first case and was glad to be paired up with him.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “Accident on the Port Mann. What have we got?”

“Adult male, still warm. Multiple gunshots. Empty 9 mm six-shot semi-auto pistol beside the victim. Whoever did it made no attempt to hide the gun.”

“Where’s the body?” asked CC.

“Less than a minute walk along that path,” replied Dallas, pointing to a trail leading from the parking lot. “Face down beside a small creek.”

“The parking lot doesn’t look well used,” noted Connie. “Couldn’t hold much more than five or six cars. Who reported it?”

“A young couple who came to park and make out. They got into an argument and ended up going for a walk. I think what they saw took their mind off the quarrel. They didn’t see anyone and there were no other vehicles.”

“How does the couple look?”

“I don’t think they had anything to do with it. They’ve given statements. I did a quick statement analysis … appears truthful.”

“Victim a dealer? Into drugs?”

“Don’t know. He looks and is dressed like a street person. Also had a relatively fresh dressing on one hand. Looked professional. I’m betting he received medical treatment recently. I patted him down for a wallet, but there wasn’t one. No identification that I could find yet. Maybe when we print him —”

“Robbery?” said CC.

“Don’t think so. It was more like a kidnapping and execution. The guy’s hands were bound behind his back with duct tape. His mouth was taped, as well. So were his ankles, but I found a piece of duct tape in the parking lot. Looks like he managed to get most of the tape off his ankles while being transported. I think he was dragged out of a vehicle and dumped on his back on the ground. Someone tried to shoot him in the face but the bullet took a chunk out of his ear. The victim rolled in panic. I think that’s when he freed the last of the tape on his ankles and got to his feet and bolted. Later he took another bullet through his thigh, one in his back, and then one to the back of his head. The last one was at such close range that the muzzle likely touched the back of his head before the final shot. Pretty cold thing to do.”

“No shit.”

“I checked the gun. Looks like all six rounds were fired.”

“So whoever murdered him was a lousy shot. Probably missed him with two rounds altogether.”

“Could be. Something peculiar, though. The victim had a large garbage bag over his head and torso.”

“How was he able to run so far down that path?” asked Connie.

“It wasn’t the dark-green type of bag. Made of clear plastic. The type you would use for disposing of leaves and stuff in the fall.”

“Someone figured it would help eliminate DNA from their vehicle.”

“That’s what I figure. The victim was coughing up blood before he got here. The inside of the bag was sprayed from blood coming out his nose.”

“Maybe the bullet in his back went through a lung.”

“No. Wait until you see the bag. There was quite a bit smeared around inside. I think the bullet in his back was followed in short order by one to the skull.”

“What’s your guess on why he was bleeding prior to arrival? Think he was punched in the face?”

“No, it’s not a broken nose. I’ve seen this type of blood pattern before. My guess is someone took a bat or pipe to his ribcage to subdue him. Autopsy should confirm it, but I bet one of his lungs is punctured with a broken rib.”

“A tough way to die.”

“Yeah. I bet he knew it was coming. Slow and painful way to go. I’ve uncovered the route the victim took after arriving and have a theory from what I’ve seen. Where do you want to start? At the body or do you want me to show you the evidence leading to the body?”

“May as well start at the beginning. If he was bagged, I doubt that there is much blood in the parking lot.”

“There’s always some when someone is shot. Bagged or not.”

“Too dry for foot or tire tracks,” said CC, thinking aloud.

“This is the beginning as I know it,” said Dallas, pointing to an area in the gravelled lot. “You can see a double set of scuff marks in the dirt. Like a bounce followed by short drag marks that match the heels of his shoes. My guess is he was dragged out of a van by two people. If it was a car —”

“He would have been lifted from the trunk. There wouldn’t be these patterns in the gravel from being set down.”

“Exactly.”

“Thought your specialty was blood?”

Dallas smiled and said, “If you look closely, you’ll see a little blood smeared in the gravel.”

“Got it,” said CC.

“The pattern is repeated about two shoulder widths away and then repeated a third time.”

“What the hell? You’re right.”

“Let me take you through it,” said Dallas. “He was dragged backwards out of a van and dumped on the ground. Someone tried to shoot him in the face, but he likely saw it coming and moved. The first shot took out a piece of his ear and tore the garbage bag. He then rolled two complete turns, leaving blood from his ear about two shoulder widths away on each roll.” Dallas looked at CC and said, “Are you with me so far?”

“Hang on,” said CC, clasping one hand over her ear and then stepping sideways while spinning around to simulate a roll. “Got it. Explains the gap in between.”

“Exactly. And here we have a small ball of duct tape. I think he got that off while being transported and it probably stuck up inside his pant leg. He still has a short piece of it on his ankles, but I figure he was kicking in his panic. His legs broke free at this point and he got to his feet and started running.”

CC then followed Dallas a short distance down the path, where he used a flashlight to point to a new blood trail that was easily visible.

“Here is where he took one to the inside of his thigh, but kept running,” explained Dallas. “By the large amount of blood, I’m sure the bullet hit his femoral artery. If whoever murdered him hadn’t finished the job, he would have bled out pretty quick.”

CC paused to envision the nightmare. Beaten with a bat or pipe … broken rib through your lung … bound in duct tape … kidnapped and laying on the floor of some van … dragged out and shot in the face … escape while more bullets are flying … trying to run with your hands tied behind your back … shot through the thigh … staggering … unable to gasp for air through your mouth … shot in the back … face down in the dirt … feel the gun on the back of your head —

“And here,” said Dallas, waving his flashlight beam over a spray of dark red blood in a contrasting splatter against the bright green leaves on a bush beside the trail, “is where he took one to the back. See where the blood from his leg changed direction? He spun around, staggered, and went down.”

CC looked at the man lying face down along a short embankment beside a small creek.

“The killer then put the last shot into the back of his skull,” continued Dallas.

CC paused and looked around. She knew that Dallas thought she was searching for clues. In reality she was trying once more to grasp the inhumanity of the human race. She sighed and looked at Dallas and said, “Guess it leaves us with who and why. Also, who is the victim? You said you checked for a wallet?”

“I only patted his front and back pockets. Nothing. Maybe he has it in his jacket. I didn’t want to move anything until the Forensic Identification Section does their thing.”

“I want to identify this guy. I’m not going to wait for FIS,” said CC. “I’ll be discreet. The sooner we can ID him the better.” She bent over the victim and gently started to roll the body over on the side, but her attention was diverted to a shadow cast by a fern growing out from the side embankment on the other side of the body. “Dallas, over there!” said CC. “Under the fern … see it? In the shadow. There’s something there.”

Dallas pushed the fern aside and shone his light. “Bingo! We’ve got a footprint.” Dallas squatted and examined it closer. “Too smudged to match, but gives us an idea of size.”

“Maybe the couple who found him,” suggested CC.

“They said they didn’t come down off the trail. Plus she was wearing short heels and he is big. I’m betting size ten-to-twelve range. This is much smaller. Not the vic’s. Maybe a woman?”

“Pretty wide for a woman,” commented CC, turning her attention back to the body. “Hang on, hand me your light.”

Dallas passed CC his flashlight and saw her direct the beam through the front of the clear plastic bag that was still covering the head and upper torso. She then squinted, peering closer through the bloodied plastic and reached her hand inside and took out a prescription pill bottle from the victim’s shirt pocket.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered.

“What is it? Got something?”

“Yeah, we got something all right. Do you know Corporal Jack Taggart from the Intelligence Unit?”

“No,” replied Dallas, bending over for a closer look at the pill bottle.

“His wife is Doctor Natasha Taggart,” replied CC, covering her eyes with one hand as she unconsciously massaged the sides of her temples.

Dallas paused for a moment, glancing at CC. “Do you want me to call her?” he asked.

Connie sighed and said, “No, I will.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I don’t know,” replied Connie, “but with Jack, there is guaranteed to be one.”