Sleight of Hand Page 3

CHAPTER TWO

  Olivia insisted she take the minute and accompany Jonah next door. If the victim were alive, she could render assistance. She pointed out it was highly unlikely any of the victims of the bus accident had arrived yet at Emergency, and on the off chance any had, there were doctors on duty to handle those cases. Jonah knew better than to argue her logic. She was foremost a doctor and as with any doctor, saving lives was a priority and the person next door might need medical attention.

  Alert and prepared for any scenario, he used the barrel of his gun to push the already open door wide into the room. Aware Olivia stood at his back, he poked his head inside. The victim lay face up on the bed, his sightless eyes staring at the ceiling.

  He committed to memory the placement of the body, the victim's blood-stained white shirt, the neatness of the room, the unmade bed and the butcher's knife situated on the floor in the middle of the room, colored, presumably, with the victim's life force.

  His stomach churned, and he chomped on the breath mint in his mouth.

  Olivia peeked around his shoulder. "My services are not needed here," she said in a whisper, peering at the cadaver. "Would you like me to confirm the analysis with an exam?"

  The man appeared dead to him, too. "No, honey. Thanks." They'd both seen enough corpses to recognize the signs of death.

  She pecked his lips. "I'm off to the hospital, then."

  "Take care," he said. He watched her walk through the corridor and ring for an elevator car. To a casual observer, she would appear relaxed and unhurried. He knew differently. Inside, Olivia churned with concern for those injured in the bus accident.

  The bell for the elevator rang and a second later the doors opened. She mimed for him to call her.

  He nodded and stepped into the room. Two towels sat in a heap at his feet. He remembered the hotel worker's haste as he and Olivia had walked through the hallway to their room. The victim must have requested additional towels at some time prior to his death and the maid ended up intruding on a crime scene.

  With the distant sound of a police siren came a whimper from the bathroom.

  Jonah moved across the room, walking on the pads of his feet. In a shooter's stance, he looked inside the room. A fifty-something woman, blood-speckled and sniveling, sat on the floor. She seemed vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't place her.

  "Ma'am," he said. She didn't appear a threat, but Jonah never took unnecessary chances, not with his life or that of anyone else.

  She turned wet eyes on him. "I brought the knife to threaten him. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean to kill him. It just happened. But I'm not sorry he's dead. Darrin got what he deserved. He couldn't leave other women alone." She shook her head. Teardrops slid from her face and hit the ceramic floor. "He won't be chasing after women anymore."

  "No, ma'am. He won't. That's a fact."

  "Why couldn't he be happy with me?" She sighed. "And now you have to arrest me."

  "Yes, ma'am. It's the way it works."

  "You keep calling me ma'am. My name is Velma. Velma Harper."

  In his line of work, Jonah came across all sorts of people, but Velma took the cup in the freaky category. There was something else bothering him about her, but he couldn't find the pulse of the worry. He decided to let the matter simmer in his unconsciousness. What nagged at him would eventually become apparent. It had taken him many years to learn how to apply the restraint.

  Jonah holstered his weapon and helped Velma to her feet. She put her hands behind her back. He cuffed her.

  His partner, Doug DeFazzio, unkempt and visibly fatigued, came into the room, spotted Jonah and said, "You got here fast."

  "I was close by." Jonah filled in Doug on what had transpired, then Jonah beckoned to a uniformed cop standing in the doorway. "Take her to the precinct and book her for the murder of Darrin — "

  "Harper," Velma said for him.

  "Darrin Harper," Jonah said. "Get the Doc and crime scene guys here pronto."

  "If they were all this easy," Doug said, stabbing his hands in the pockets of his pants.

  Something troubled his young partner, Jonah could see. Normally, Doug burst with energy and enthusiasm. Jonah didn't know this somber and indecisive man.

  As lean as Jonah but shorter by a half-foot, he studied Doug, waiting for him to purge his conscience. When he didn't, Jonah asked, "Want to talk about it?"

  "About what?"

  "What's bothering you."

  "Nothing's bothering me."

  "If you say so." Jonah stared at the floor, wondering what to say next when Doug broke the silence.

  "How well do you know Charlotte?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  Doug bit the inside of his lip, obviously thinking over something. After a few seconds, he said, "Forget it."

  Jonah followed him into the hallway where he promptly took a cigarette from a fresh pack. "One of these days, some rookie wanting to make a name for himself is going to arrest you for that," he said, nodding at the cigarette between Doug's fingers.

  "I'll stop smoking in public places when the government removes benzene and all the other cancer-causing substances from gasoline and enforces stiffer regulations regarding air pollution."

  Jonah had heard Doug's spiel before. Truth was, the kid made valid points.

  Despite his bravado, Doug tucked the cigarette behind his ear.

  For the next ten minutes, Jonah talked up Doug, hoping he would tell him what bothered him. He wanted Doug's mind on his job and nothing else, definitely not on Jonah's sister-in-law.

  "What's the saying about Hell having no fury like a woman's scorn?" Doug asked.

  Jonah took a deep breath and braced himself for the worst. Doug was about to purge himself of whatever he'd learned about Charlotte. "You’re quoting William Congreve now?"

  "I thought it was Shakespeare." Doug looked at him. "Sure it wasn't Shakespeare?" Before Jonah could answer, Doug shook his hand in the air. "It's not important. What it all comes down to is feelings. Something is said, feelings are hurt and blame is given. Hurt turns to hate, malicious hate, and all the person can think about is revenge and how he or she can implement it."

  Doug was not making sense. "Is someone coming after you? Is this about an old girlfriend of yours?" Jonah knew Doug liked the ladies and often dated two, sometimes three, women at a time.

  "No. Yours."

  "Mine?" Jonah couldn't believe this had led to him. He hadn't had a girlfriend in years, since long before he met Olivia in fact, and that was over thirteen years ago. He couldn't imagine an ex-girlfriend carrying a grudge for him all that time. Jonah wanted to question Doug, but the Doc and crime scene techs arrived. "We'll pick this up later," he said, leading the group into the room.

  Over the sounds of cameras going off, the clicks of cases opening and muted voices either discussing crime scene techniques and the latest technology or last evening's televised football game, the Doc said, "Time of death two hours ago."

  "Two hours ago?" Jonah asked, disbelieving the Doc's finding. That couldn't be right. The victim's blood was too fresh. "Are you sure?" When Jonah turned toward him, an image flitted through his memory. He remembered then how he knew the suspect.

  Doc cocked a brow and gave him a do-you-think-I-don't-know-how-to-read-a-thermometer look.

  "Sorry," Jonah said, turning his back on the coroner. "Oh God." He smoothed the hair on the nape of his neck. Unless Velma came back a second time, she couldn't have killed her husband. He was already dead when she plunged the knife into his chest.

  "What's the matter?" Doug asked.

  "Velma didn't kill her husband," he said, visualizing the woman arriving at the entrance to The Spartacus at the same time as he approximately forty-five minutes ago, wearing the same but spotless clothes she wore when he'd arrested her.

  "What?"

  Jonah told him about his brief encounter with the suspect.

  The Doc said, "I'd say this blow to the back of the victim's head kille
d him instantly. Whoever stabbed him did so after he died. I'll be able to tell you more after the post mortem."

  Jonah placed his hands on his hips. "We'll have to check the video surveillance to confirm, but from where I'm standing right now, the wrong person is in custody."