John Puller 02 - The Forgotten Page 10

  He moved on to the second observation in the letter:

  Mysterious happenings in the night.

  Happenings, plural. In the night. Did she mean mysterious happenings in her neighborhood? If so, did they involve one of her neighbors? To Puller the area had seemed like a normal suburb where mysterious happenings probably were at a minimum. But his aunt was dead and that obviously shined a new light on things.

  Finally he considered his aunt’s third observation:

  Something just not being right.

  That was open to lots of interpretations. What Puller could fall back on was his experience with his aunt. One of the most no-nonsense people he’d ever known, if she said it or wrote it she believed it. She did not reach knee-jerk conclusions. There was the possibility that old age had changed those personality traits, but somehow Puller didn’t think so. They were too ingrained in his family’s genes.

  He had to work from the assumption that everything in his aunt’s letter was true. And if she had stumbled onto something and the people involved in that something had found out, it was a prime motive to remove Betsy Simon from this earth. And if that had happened, Puller would welcome the opportunity to repay the folks who had done it. He would provide either a long prison sentence or their own early exit from the living.

  Having exhausted the possibilities based on his limited investigation so far, he got out of the car, walked down a wooden boardwalk, and reached the beach. It was nearly six-thirty, and the cafe where he was meeting Timmins was close by. He decided to walk along the sand both to relax a bit and to think some more while the waves pounded the shore.

  There were a number of people on the beach. Some were power walking with exaggerated motions of their legs and arms. Others strolled arm in arm. Still others had their dogs with them and were tossing tennis balls and Frisbees for their canine companions to run down.

  Puller moved on, letting his gaze sweep from the ocean to the boardwalk and beyond. There were parts of Paradise that definitely fit the name. However, having been here only a relatively short period of time, Puller had seen other parts that did not remotely belong.

  An interesting place, he thought.

  When he saw what was going on up ahead, he picked up his pace. He didn’t know if it would have anything to do with his aunt’s death, but right now anything in Paradise that seemed unusual interested him.

  CHAPTER 22

  Puller saw officer Landry first, then Bullock. Hooper was nowhere to be seen.

  What he saw next made him slow down to a leisurely walk. A barrier formed from metal stands and blue tarp had been erected to shield something from view. When police were around, the thing to be shielded from view typically was a human body.

  Puller drew to within a hundred feet and stopped, taking it all in. Landry was standing near a couple whom Puller recognized. He had seen them at the police station earlier, looking worried and upset. The names they had mentioned came back to his mind.

  Nancy and Fred Storrow.

  They went out and never came back. There seemed to be a lot of that going around in Paradise. Puller wondered if either or both of them were behind the shield.

  He looked out toward the water. The tide was coming in. Had it brought the body or bodies along with it?

  He couldn’t imagine that two bodies had been dumped on the beach and were just now being found. You didn’t dump bodies in public places in broad daylight. It was now nearing seven in the evening. He looked out toward the water again.

  Tide. Had to be. He doubted the corpses were in very good shape. Prolonged time in the water did awful things to bodies.

  He glanced over at the couple again. The woman was weeping, leaning in against the shoulder of the man, while Landry stood awkwardly next to them, her official notebook dangling in one hand.

  Bullock was standing over near the shield shaking his head and tapping his fingers against his gun belt like he was sending out an SOS signal.

  They hadn’t set up a perimeter, but people were keeping their distance.

  Puller walked toward Bullock until the man looked up and saw him.

  He at first put up his hands to ward Puller off, but then recognized him. He strode forward, his black shoes slipping in the sand.

  When Bullock got to within a foot of Puller he said, “What are you doing here?”

  “Just going for a walk on the beach. What do you have here?”

  “What we have is an ongoing investigation that I am not at liberty to disclose to a civilian.” “I’m not a civilian.”

  “To me you are.”

  “One body or two?”

  “Excuse me?” Bullock took a step back and looked suspicious.

  “Behind the shield. Did the tide bring it or them in?”

  “What the hell do you know about it?”

  “Nothing. But you put up a shield on a beach and you got a woman sobbing over there—a woman I saw at the station earlier today probably filing a missing persons report—and the dominos begin to fall into place. Was it an accident?”

  “Look, Puller, my best advice to you is to turn yourself around, get back on a plane, and fly home.”

  “Appreciate the advice, but Paradise is growing on me. I can see why you like it down here so much.”

  Bullock turned on his heel and walked off, his shoes rooster-tailing streams of sand behind him.

  Another officer came and took charge of the couple, allowing Landry to break free and walk over to him.

  “What did Chief Bullock say to you?” she asked.

  “He wanted me to join the investigation and lend my expertise in helping solve the crime. He also invited me over for a beer later at his house.”

  She smiled. “He doesn’t drink beer. But I didn’t believe you anyway.”

  Puller nodded at the blue tarp. “You called the ME yet?”

  “She’ll be here as soon as she can.”

  Puller nodded. It seemed that his seven o’clock meeting with Timmins was going to be postponed.

  “I won’t ask you for details, because I don’t want you to get in trouble with Bullock.” “Thanks.”

  “Where’s your partner?”

  Landry looked uncomfortable. “He, uh, he ran into a little problem.”

  “Did he puke and pass out when he saw the body?”

  She looked away, but something in her features told Puller he had nailed that one.

  “I’ve got a lot of experience with bodies coming out of the ocean.”

  “Why? I thought you were Army, not Navy.” “Oh, you wouldn’t believe what goes on in the infantry. And lots of Army bases are next to bodies of water.”

  “I doubt Chief Bullock would approve of that.”

  “I know he wouldn’t. But I thought I’d offer anyway. And if you ever want to run anything by me, unofficially of course, feel free.”

  “I appreciate that. We don’t have a traditional plainclothes detective division. Uniforms do it all. If we get in over our heads we can call in help from the county or the state police.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “You been busy following up on things with your aunt’s death?”

  “A little.”

  “If you find out anything that shows it wasn’t an accident will you bring it to me?”

  “I will.”

  “And you won’t play vigilante?”

  “I never go looking for trouble.”

  “But somehow it finds you?”

  “Sometimes. I’m staying over at a place called the Sierra.”

  “Not exactly a great part of town.”

  “It is if you can’t afford the really great parts. And for the record, eighty bucks a night is not exactly cheap in my mind. Even with breakfast thrown in.”

  “What can I say, it’s Paradise.”

  “Can you tell me more about the area?”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m sure you have the typical problems. But do you have any gangs?”

  “Off
icially no. In reality yes.”

  “What do you mean officially no, then?” “Paradise is a tourist destination. Of the millions of people who come to the Panhandle every year, lots of them come to Paradise. So officially we don’t have a gang problem.”

  “Okay, so what does your unofficial gang problem consist of?”

  “An unusual hybrid. We don’t have the typical ethnic and racial divides here. No Bloods and Crips versus Latino gangs versus skinheads.” “Meaning you have diversity in your gangs. Very commendable.”

  She looked at him funny. “Why do you ask? Did something happen?”

  “Nothing worth mentioning. Crime limited to the poorer areas?”

  “People crimes, yeah, for the most part. Gang on gang. But the property crimes leach into the

  higher-dollar communities, for obvious reasons.” “Go where the good stuff to steal is?”

  “Exactly. The really rich places around here have their own security. Either behind community walls with rent-a-cops or behind their own gates with professional types.”

  “I’m seeing a whole other side of Paradise.”

  “Hey, this stuff happens where you have money bumping up against poverty.”

  “Meaning America basically.”

  “Don’t know about that.”

  “So who’s assigned to investigate this?” asked Puller.

  “Chief Bullock is going to personally handle it. He knows the family.”

  “Is he good at investigative work?”

  “He’s the chief!”

  “You didn’t answer the question.”

  She let out a sigh. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  “I guess you will,” said Puller.

  CHAPTER 23

  Puller sat down on a beach chair and watched as Landry and another uniformed officer strung up yellow police tape around the scene using long metal poles driven into the sand to support it.

  What Puller expected to happen did occur about twenty minutes later. A Volvo pulled up and a woman got out. She was in her fifties, with graying hair cut short, a white sleeveless blouse, a blue skirt that hit right below the knees, and sandals. She wore bifocals that rode on a chain. She carried a black medical bag.

  Louise Timmins, the medical examiner, had arrived. She looked harried and upset. She walked directly to the police tape and was admitted by Landry. Timmins ducked under the tape and marched to the blue tarp, where she was met by Bullock. After a brief conversation Timmins slipped inside the makeshift enclosure. It would not be a pleasant sight or smell within such close, heated quarters, Puller knew.

  You just had to keep breathing and pretty soon your sense of smell would fail, and fortunately so.

  By his watch it was half an hour before Timmins reemerged into the sunlight. To Puller’s eye she looked a little queasy and more than a little upset. He wondered if she might have known the deceased, if there was only one body in there.

  She spoke for some minutes to Bullock, who nodded and wrote things down on a spiral notepad.

  When Timmins cleared the tape and headed for her car, Puller approached.

  “Dr. Timmins?”

  She looked up at him. She was only about five-two and thus had to crane her neck back some to fully take him in.

  “Yes?”

  “John Puller. We talked before?”

  “Right, your aunt.” She did not seem pleased to have encountered him here. “I meant to call you to say that I would be delayed when I found out about this, but time got away from me.”

  He said, “That’s okay. We can reschedule. I know you weren’t expecting this thing on the beach.”

  He studied her more closely while she pulled her car keys from her purse. Up close she looked pale, drawn, and jumpy.

  “No, I wasn’t expecting it. I was totally floored by it in fact.”

  “Anyone you knew?”

  She looked at him sharply. “What makes you ask that?”

  “You look more upset than is warranted by seeing a dead body, even one pulled out of the water.”

  “Looking at death is never easy.”

  “But you’re a doctor and a medical examiner. You see it all the time, under all conditions. And since this is an oceanside town, I doubt that’s the first drowning victim you’ve seen.”

  ‘ ”1 really can’t talk to you about this.”

  “I know. And I’d much prefer not to waste your time. Can we meet about my aunt?”

  She looked at her watch.

  He said, “I’d be glad to buy you dinner. If you have an appetite.”

  She glanced back at the blue tarp. “No food, but maybe a little ginger ale on my stomach might help.”

  “Okay. The cafe we were going to meet at is a few blocks over. You want to walk or drive?”

  “Let’s drive. My legs are a little wobbly right now.”

  As they walked to their cars, Puller turned around and saw both Bullock and Landry watching them. The police chief looked pissed. Landry seemed merely curious.

  They drove separately to the cafe and found parking on the street. The place was crowded but they were able to snag a table near the front.

  Timmins ordered a glass of ginger ale and Puller a Coke. It was after seven and the temperature was still in the mid-eighties and the ocean breeze had fallen away.

  “Feels more like Hell than Paradise, doesn’t it?” said Timmins after they had gotten their drinks. She took a long sip of her ginger ale and sat back, looking a bit better.

  “I take it you’re a transplant here?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Your skin is too pale and you’re not used to wearing sandals, which for women down here are probably a daily accessory.”

  She glanced down at her feet where the sandal straps had made several red marks against her skin.

  He continued, “The longer you wear sandals the more your skin will toughen up.”

  “You’re very observant.”

  “The Army pays me to be.”

  “I’m from Minnesota originally. Moved down here about six months ago. My first summer here. Minnesota can get hot in the summer, but nothing like this.”

  “So why’d you come down?”

  “My husband died. I’d never been out of the state. I was tired of long winters. A doctor I’d met was selling his practice and I’ve always had an interest in forensic pathology. When I found out the job also included being the district ME, I jumped on it.”

  “And the place being named Paradise probably didn’t hurt.”

  “The brochures were very attractive,” she replied, with a weary smile.

  “So will you be heading back north?”

  “I doubt it. Place grows on you. June through August it gets crowded and the heat and humidity are pretty bad, but the rest of the year is quite nice. I could never take a walk in shorts in February in St. Paul.”

  Puller leaned forward, officially ending the chitchat session. “My aunt?”

  “You saw the body.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Carl Brown over at Bailey’s told me. We’re friends. Local doctor and the funeral home in Florida get very close. Lots of my patients die. Old age catches up with everyone at some point.” “I saw the body.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “I checked you out, Agent Puller. I have some contacts at the Pentagon. My brother is in the Air Force. I was informed that you are absolutely terrific at what you do and that tenacity doesn’t come close to describing your intensity when on the hunt.”

  Puller sat back, gauging the woman in a different light now. “There was a bruise on her right temple.”

  “I saw that. There was also a slight bloodstain on the stone surround at the fountain.”

  “So cause and effect. But what made her fall? Did she stumble or did she have a heart attack or stroke or did an aneurysm pop?”

  “None of the above. She was in remarkably good shape, at least internally. Heart, lungs, o
ther organs disease-free. She had bad osteoporosis and a curved spine but that was about it. She died from water in the lungs. Asphyxiation, technically.”

  “So what made her fall?”

  “She was using a walker, the ground might have been slick from some of the water from the fountain falling there. She goes down, hits her head, becomes unconscious, and drowns in twenty-four inches of water. It happens.”

  “I wonder how often?”

  “Once is enough in this case.”

  “Nothing else suspicious on the body?”

  “No defensive wounds, no ligature marks, no other bruising that would indicate someone had attacked her.”

  Puller nodded. That corresponded to what he’d found. “Tox screens?”

  “Won’t be back for a while. But I saw no signs of poisoning, if that’s where you’re going. And there were no indications of abuse of alcohol or drugs.”

  “I think the most my aunt ever had was a glass of wine. At least that I remember.”

  “The post bore that out. As I said, except for the spinal issues, she was in remarkable shape for someone her age. She had quite a few years left to go.”

  “My aunt wrote a letter. In that letter she was concerned about something in Paradise. Any idea what she could have meant?”

  “What sort of concerns did she have?”

  “People not being who they seemed. Mysterious happenings at night.”

  “Like I said, I just got here six months ago. I don’t know enough people to be aware if they are who they are or not. And mysterious happenings? If she counts parties of drunk guys and gals parading half-naked down the main strip at two a.m. as being mysterious then she’s got my vote.” “So nothing else you can tell me?”

  “Afraid not. I know it seems senseless, Agent Puller. But accidents do happen.”

  “Yeah, they do.”

  But what Puller was thinking was, If it was an accident, why are people in a Chrysler following me?

  He wasn’t just spontaneously thinking this. He had just seen the car pass by the front of the cafe and stop near his Corvette. The window came down and he was pretty sure he saw a flash. They had taken a picture. Before he could even think of racing after them, the Chrysler drove away.