Читать книгу Jupiter’s Bones - Faye Kellerman - Страница 13

The thermos of coffee had run dry. Reluctantly, Decker traded the one vice for another. Reaching in the glove compartment of his unmarked, he pulled out a loose cigarette. This one happened to be a Marlboro, but it really didn’t matter. It had nicotine; it would do. He cranked the windows down, sat back in the driver’s seat and lit up, staring out the windshield as smoke exited from his nose and mouth. Chiding himself for the weakness although not too harshly.

He had quit the noxious habit for almost six years. But then came a bloodbath, and the horrific images just wouldn’t quit. The dreaded flashbacks—over a year old—popped up at inconvenient times. It was at those moments when Decker went for the rush. He didn’t fully understand why he’d been thinking about that grisly scene at Estelle’s restaurant. If he had to rationalize it, he’d most likely chalk it up to a hinky feeling about the safety of the children still residing within the compounds of the Order of the Rings of God.

He smoked slowly … leisurely, washing his nerves with a chemical calm. Since becoming a detective lieutenant, he rarely visited crime scenes—only in the extraordinary cases. Like Estelle’s … like this one. The death of famous people always made news, although Ganz hadn’t been an important figure in science for a long time.

The meat wagon had left ten minutes ago, Ganz’s body safely aboard and heading for the morgue. Decker’s job was basically over. Now it was up to the pathologist. If all went well, he’d close shop here within fifteen minutes. He was hungry—it was past two in the afternoon—but wolfing down a sandwich in the car was bound to create a storm of stomach acid. Better to wait and grab a late lunch at home if possible. If not, even his desk was a better place to dine than behind the wheel of a car. He had just finished his smoke when Marge and Scott Oliver came through the gate of the compound. He got out of the car and waved them over.

“What did you learn from Venus?” he asked Marge.

She took out her notes. “The story goes like this. She went into Jupiter’s room around five in the morning. He had been sitting semiupright in his bed and appeared to have been sleeping.”

“Eyes closed?”

“Yes, eyes closed. At least that’s what she said. Venus called out to him. When he didn’t answer, she tried to shake him awake. At that point, he fell over lifeless, and she screamed. Her yells brought Pluto to the room. Immediately, she was ushered out, and taken back to her room. Half hour later, Pluto came to her and told her that Jupiter was dead.”

Oliver said, “So she was in her room for a half hour, just waiting to hear something?”

“Yep.”

“Alone?” Decker asked.

“With one of her attendants.” Marge hesitated. “Alpha-two.”

“That’s the name?”

“Apparently.”

Oliver said, “So what was happening with Jupiter between the time she discovered his supposedly dead body and the time Pluto brought her the news?”

“I don’t know. We should speak to Pluto—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Decker interrupted. “Scott, why did you say his ‘supposedly dead body’? Any reason to think that Jupiter wasn’t dead at that point?”

“Loo, if someone would have done the normal thing—call in the paramedics or 911 as soon as the body was discovered—I would feel a lot better about this being a suicide. The way it stands now, with no official around to verify Ganz’s death until we arrived, which was around … what, Margie? Around seven?”

“Closer to seven-fifteen.”

“When’d you get here?” Oliver asked Decker.

“Quarter to eight.”

“So between the time that Venus went into Jupiter’s room and someone from the outside actually saw the body—that’s two hours. What do we think happened during that time? We’ve assumed that someone moved the body from the crime scene to the temple. Because we were told that Jupiter died in his bed. But we’re not even sure if that’s true. We also know that some dude named Nova signed a death certificate.”

“Anyone talk to him?” Decker asked.

Oliver said, “They couldn’t seem to locate him—which also makes me suspicious. Pluto said I could come back after dinner—around six. Being as it’s after two, I figured why push it for four hours. Now I know they’re going to prep Nova—tell him what to say and what not to say. But if he’s not a pathological liar, I’ll be able to see through that crap.”

Decker agreed. Oliver turned to Marge. “You want to come back with me?”

“Yeah, I’ll come back with you.”

“So what are you doing for dinner? Want to do Chinese?”

“I’ll do Chinese.”

Oliver turned to Decker, “I don’t suppose you’ll be joining us.”

“Thanks anyway, but I’d like to see my wife.”

Oliver said, “I used to have one of those.”

Decker smiled. “Yeah, well … tell you what. You two come over to the house after Nova’s interview.”

Marge chuckled. “Rina would love that.”

“She won’t be thrilled, but besides being a good sport, she genuinely likes you two.”

“Aw shucks, I’m a-blushin’.” Oliver grinned. “Exactly how much does she like me?”

Decker wagged his finger, then turned serious. “So you think something nasty went down, Scott?”

“Yep. Moving the body is a cardinal sin, and they should have known better.”

Decker organized his thoughts. “Let’s back it up … to your statement about the body being supposedly dead. For the moment, let’s assume that Venus was telling the truth: that she found Jupiter either dead or near death. If Jupiter was near death instead of actually dead, are you saying that someone, during those unaccounted for hours, knocked him off?”

“Why not? It’s possible.”

“But why would someone bother to commit murder if Ganz was already dying?”

“Because maybe Jupiter had a chance of surviving if someone called the paramedics. Could be that Venus was about to call 911, and Pluto stopped her. He sent her back to her room, so he could do dirty work.”

“Why would Pluto have wanted Jupiter dead?” Decker asked.

“Because Pluto wanted control of the Order.”

Marge said, “Venus claims the Order is now under her control.”

“There you go,” Oliver said. “Jupiter isn’t even dead for twenty-four hours and already they’re at each other’s throats. Who knows? Maybe they’re in it together.”

“Who? Venus and Pluto?” Marge shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She flipped through her scribblings. “Point of fact. Venus claims not to have noticed any medication on Jupiter’s nightstand. She said she was taken away and didn’t have time to absorb her surroundings …”

“And that would jibe perfectly with my theory,” Oliver said. “Pluto pushes her away before she can call the paramedics. Then he places the empty Valium vial in the room to make it look like a suicide.”

Decker said, “If someone wanted to fake a suicide, don’t you think the vial would have been placed in the room before Venus arrived?”

“Maybe Pluto was about to do it, but was interrupted by Venus’s sudden appearance.” Oliver rocked on his feet. “Loo, what makes the whole thing suspicious is that the body was fresh. Coronor places the time of death within two hours of the discovery. Rigor mortis hadn’t set in.”

“Most common time of death is in the early morning,” Marge said.

“But we’re not thinking death by natural cause, Margie.”

Decker said, “Maybe it took Jupiter all night to summon up the nerve to do himself in. First, he drank the vodka to lower his inhibitions. Next he finished himself off with the pills.” He ran his hand through thick tufts of hair. “Or maybe Jupiter was a lush and a pill popper, and this was a simple accidental overdose.”

Oliver looked dubious. “He downed a fifth of vodka.”

“We’ve all known alkies who drink that much for breakfast.”

“Venus said he didn’t drink or take pills,” Marge stated.

“According to her.” Decker stuffed his hands in his pocket. “We’ve got a suspicious death—three options. Accidental OD, suicide or homicide. We may never be able to distinguish between accidental OD or a suicide. But that’s not that important for us. The only thing that gets us involved is a homicide. So the question is this: Can you force someone to chugalug a fifth of vodka and/or down a bottle’s worth of Valium?”

Oliver said, “If the guy was a secret drinker, someone could have dissolved the pills in the booze.”

“Valium’s insoluble in water,” Decker said.

“Then maybe someone ground the pills up in his food.”

“Valium has a bitter taste—”

“So Pluto injected it into Ganz’s veins,” Oliver tried again. “In case you’ve forgotten, the body had fresh needle marks.”

“Venus said Jupiter often injected himself with vitamins,” Marge commented.

“Injected himself?” Decker asked. “He had IM needle marks on his butt.”

“Sometimes she’d do it,” Marge said.

“How convenient,” Oliver mocked. “The logical assumption is that someone stabbed him with an IV needle, telling Jupiter that it was his vitamins. Meanwhile guy’s being shot up with a lethal dose of Valium.”

“The drug burns like hell when you inject it,” Decker said. “Jupiter was a scientist. He would have known immediately that he wasn’t being shot up with vitamins.”

“But by that time, it would have been too late—”

Decker said, “I don’t like it. Too many ‘ifs.’”

“So maybe Jupiter was dead drunk when he was dosed up with Valium,” Oliver retorted. “Maybe he had already been knocked out with the vodka.”

“You’re saying Ganz drank himself comatose, then someone finished him off with the Valium?”

“Why not?” Oliver asked.

“For one thing, it’s messy.” Decker paused. “You’re saying that someone went to all this trouble just to take over as leader of the Order.”

“Loo, you met that twerp, Pluto. He lusts for control.”

Decker said, “So you not only have a theory, you have a prime suspect.”

“Pluto had the means, the motive and the opportunity. He was Jupiter’s privileged attendant.”

“He was one of four privileged attendants,” Decker said.

“But the first one on the scene after Venus, and he’s the only one who’s come forward as the leader. He needs to dominate. I’m telling you, there’s something off with that guy.”

“Scott, Pluto has been with Jupiter for years. Why now?”

“Because Jupiter was out cold from the vodka. The perfect opportunity presented itself.”

Decker conceded Oliver some points. He said, “Even if the path report comes back with drugs and booze in Jupiter’s system, we’ll still have no way of knowing if Jupiter’s death was suicide or homicide. Not without other overriding evidence. If you have something up your sleeve, Scott, I’m all ears.”

“No direct evidence,” Oliver answered. “Just twenty years experience.”

“I don’t discount that,” Decker said. “But we can’t open a murder case based on your experience.”

“Can I put in my two cents for suicide?” Marge asked.

Decker said, “Let’s hear it.”

“Venus said that Jupiter hadn’t been himself lately. That he hadn’t been exactly ill, but … how’d she phrase it?” Marge consulted her notes. “He hadn’t been his usual spirited self. He’d been drained of his energy, he held his head a lot … like he had headaches. But when she asked him about it, he assured her that this was all part of the process.”

“What process?” Decker asked.

Marge let out a small chuckle. “Well, here goes nothing.” As Marge recounted the leader’s supernatural ideas, they sounded even stranger than the first time she had heard them.

“So he was receiving radiation from all these parallel universes.” Oliver gave her a sneering smile. “Well, why didn’t you just say so. That explains everything.”

“I’m not giving credence to her hypotheses, Scott. I’m just saying maybe he was ill with something serious and he decided to mask it in quasi-scientific theory.”

“Why would he do that?” Oliver asked.

“So as not to upset his followers,” Marge said. “Maybe he decided to go out with dignity rather than suffer an agonizing death.”

“What makes you think he was suffering from a physical illness?” Decker asked. “To me, it sounds more like psychosis … voices telling you to do strange things.”

“Or like a drunk after imbibing a fifth of vodka,” Oliver put in. “I’ve heard those kinds of voices before. They sound a lot like my buddies egging me on.”

“I’m serious,” Decker said.

“So am I,” Oliver retorted. “If Ganz drank a lot, I’ll bet he heard voices.”

Marge said, “To hear Venus describe Jupiter … he sounded like a man with something on his mind.” She tapped her foot. “There’s more to Jupiter’s illness than what Venus told me. I feel it in my gut.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Decker said. “But I can’t base a case for suicide on your gut feelings any more than I can base a homicide on Oliver’s experience.”

“So what do you suggest?” Oliver asked. “We keep poking around until we find something that throws us to one side or the other?”

“Exactly. And you can start with Nova. Find out what on earth possessed him to sign a death certificate. Even if he is a doctor and it’s not strictly illegal, it’s a gross irregularity.” Decker looked up at the sky. “Let’s keep the files on the Jupiter/Ganz case open for a while, if for no other reason than to look after the Order’s kids. I don’t want this death paving the way for another Heaven’s Gate or Jonestown.”

“Absolutely,” Marge said. “With Jupiter gone, who knows what they’re thinking.”

Decker said, “Meanwhile, there are loose ends that we can clear up, the first being who told Ganz’s daughter about her father’s death. When I asked Pluto about it, he claimed he didn’t know. Seemed pissed about the leak, grumbling something about the chain of command being broken. The guy does walk around like he has a ramrod up his ass.”

“You don’t like him either,” Oliver said.

“I don’t like lots of people,” Decker said. “But not all of them are criminals.” A pause. “Just a high percentage.”

Marge smiled. “Venus doesn’t know who called Europa either,” she said. “She claims that Europa hadn’t seen her father in over fifteen years.” She turned to Decker. “Weren’t you planning on interviewing her?”

“Planning to do it sooner or later.” Decker looked at his sack lunch, sitting on the passenger’s seat of his unmarked. Guess he was going to eat in the car after all.