Did she need to stay distracted from the death itself? Was it a means
of obtaining control over a world that felt unpredictable? Or was it
just an earnest desire to help those who weren't as strong as she was?
Whatever Susan Kerr's motivation, I was glad someone close to Clarissa
could play that role. Having seen Townsend attempt to deal with the
mere possibility of his wife's death, I couldn't imagine what the
confirmation of his worst fears had done to him.
I replayed the message to scribble down her phone numbers, then went on
to the next voice mail. "Hi, Samantha, Susan Kerr again. Just wanted
to let you know I think I'll go ahead and call Duncan, just to make
sure you've got all the support you feel you need, OK? Thanks,
Samantha. I appreciate having someone devote her personal attention to
my friend."
I wasn't surprised that someone with Susan Kerr's resources already
knew my boss. If she wanted to make sure he was giving me all the
support I deserved, I was all for it.
With the voice mails out of the way, I called Johnson to check in.
"We broke the news to the family last night. The parents and sister
first, then the husband. Nothing unusual. The sister gave us the
official ID while we were working on the search."
"The husband didn't have a problem with it?"
"No. We explained that a search of the vies house is standard and that
we had a warrant. He said he understood that the investigation needed
to proceed."
"Did you find anything?"
"Nothing that means anything yet. We took bank records, credit card
statements the usual stuff that sometimes means something down the
road. But we already knew from the walk through the other night that
we weren't going to find any obvious signs that she'd been done in the
house.
"Chuck and Mike came through on getting records for the recent credit
card charges and cell calls. We're still working on getting the toll
records for the home phone.
"We've got a charge at Nordstrom on Saturday. Adds up to the items we
found in the shopping bag, plus the pants and sweater she was wearing
on Sunday. The only charge after that was on Sunday, right after noon,
at the Pasta Company."
I knew the place. Or places, I should say. The Pasta Company is a
popular local chain.
"Which one?" I asked, since I could think of six or seven locations
off the top of my head.
"Terwilliger and Barbur." Made sense. Only a mile or so from the
Easterbrooks'.
"I sent a patrol officer over there with her picture. A couple of
employees said they recognized her because she's in there a lot, but no
one could place her there for sure on Sunday."
"There's no way to know if she was alone?" I asked.
"No, but she probably was. One order of linguine in browned butter, no
tip. A carry-out order, it turns out. Walker drew short straw and got
trash duty. Duly noted beneath the sink: one empty Styrofoam container
from the Pasta Company."
"So she picked up lunch on Sunday and ate at home by herself. Great.
All that work, and the credit card records don't get us any closer than
we were the other night."
"Did I say I was finished, Kincaid? Damn, girl, anyone ever tell you
you're a glass-half-empty kind of woman? I haven't told you about the
autopsy yet."
"The ME's done already?" It usually took a couple of days.
"It's been a light week so there's no backup. He made the cuts first
thing this morning. Report should be finished tomorrow, but I just got
off the phone with him a minute ago. You want to continue to interrupt
me, or do you want to get to the good stuff?"
"Consider me quiet."
"Yeah, right. I'll get in what I can. Anyway, cause of death is what
we assumed: blunt force trauma to the right side of the head. He was
some of the factors that help when the body's fresh. It had clearly
been awhile, because she was cold."
"How long does that take?" I asked.
"That puts us back to yesterday. But things get tricky past that
window. And they were even trickier in this case, because we were
right about her being moved. I'll spare you the details, but the ME's
got a problem interpreting things like bloating and bugs when he
doesn't know what kind of environment the body was in. We couldn't
tell him if she was inside, outside, wet, dry, in a heater,
whatever."
So
"Patience, woman. See, you were about to say, "So he can't tell us the
time of death," right?"
"Maybe." Definitely.
"See, now, that'd be an inaccurate statement. ME calls and tells me he
might have to give us a wide window for time of death unless I know
when she ate last. At the time he called me, I didn't, but, you see,
now I do. And the ME tells me she died within one to three hours of
eating noodles, which he found in the stomach contents. Assuming she
ate the food around twelve-thirty, she died between one-thirty and
three-thirty."
"Broad daylight."
"You got it. Makes an abduction off the street less likely but still
possible."
My phone beeped, indicating that another call was coming through. The
name of the DA's secretary flashed on the caller ID screen. I let the
line go to voice mail.
"What else?" I asked Johnson. "Was she raped?"
"Unclear. Looks like she was naked when she was hit. The ME says
there was no spatter on the clothes, either low or high velocity, which
he'd expect to find. But there was brain matter and blood transfer
like smears inside the sweater, as if it was pulled on afterward. Also,
he found spermicidal jelly in the vaginal canal, but no boy juice and
no substantial tearing. No skin under the nails, no sign of a
fight."
"What's all that mean?"
"Means she probably had sex, but it might or might not have been rape.
The stuff he found was the spermicide nonoxynol-9, which conics on most
condoms. There was a time when that would've ruled out a rape, but
things have changed since the bad guys learned about the DNA databank.
And if she was just trying to get through it alive, she might not have
fought back."
"On the other hand," I said, "maybe it's not a sex crime at all, and
the coroner found something left over from consensual sex."
"Right. So I need to follow up with the husband and see what he has to
say."
"How much are you going to tell him?" I asked.
"Nothing. If it's about to go public for some reason, we'll get to
them first. Other than that, it's on a need to know basis. I'll ask
him the last time they had sex and what kind of birth control they use.
He'll no doubt draw some inferences about that and ask me if she was
raped, but I'll tell him what I'm going to tell the rest of the family,
which is the truth: We don't know."
"How about Melvin Jackson? Have you had a chance to talk to him
yet?"
"Who's that again?"
"The evicted guy? Wrote mean, threatening letters? I gave you the
file yesterday."
"Right. Sorry, we've been juggling a lot here. When we broke the news
to the family last night, I asked them if the name sounded familiar,
but they didn't think Clarissa ever mentioned him by name. We haven't
followed up yet with Jackson, but it'll happen."
"Very good. Anything else?"
"You know, we're also checking on everyone close to the vie. I even
checked out our girl Susan Kerr. At the museum all day setting up for
a fund-raising auction, then schmoozing all night, just like she said.
So we're working from the victim out, but Jack and I agree we also need
to take the location into account."
These were standard investigative approaches. On the assumption that
the crime isn't random since they rarely are police look to the aspects
of the offense that are unique. That usually means investigating
everything there is to know about the victim. Victim's a working girl?
Most likely killed by a trick or her pimp. Dealer? Probably a
transaction gone bad or a robbery.
But crimes have also been solved by focusing on location. Who, for
example, would know the layout of the home from which the sleeping
child was kidnapped? A neighbor. Maybe a handyman. And here Johnson
made a good point. The Columbia Gorge and Forest Park were the locals'
favorite body-dumping destinations. Who would find their way to the
edge of a previously nonexistent office park?
"Do we know who the future tenant is?"
"There isn't one. It's one of those 'if you build it, they will come'
things." In recent years, Portland's suburbs have enticed out-of-town
firms to relocate operations to this area with the promise of tax
subsidies, an educated workforce, and ready-to-go infrastructure.
"We're going over lists of the usual suspects within a two-mile radius
of the crime scene and the Easter-brooks'. Jack's working on getting a
list of workers at the construction site. There's a couple different
unions and subcontractors involved, so it's taking a little longer than
we'd like. We're also looking at old police reports involving any
incidents along Taylor's Ferry Road. It's mostly car prowls and a few
robberies."
"Page me if you need anything," I said. "As soon as I'm done screening
custodies, I'm going to review Clarissa's files." Unfortunately, no
one at City Hall knew that yet.
"We can send someone over for that," he offered, assuming I had
permission to go in.
"No, I better do it. I'll be able to get through them faster." "I'll
try not to take that personally, Kincaid." "Hey, law school's got to
be good for something, right?" A decent morning at work never lasted
long. When Johnson and I were done, I retrieved the message from
Duncans secretary. The boss wanted to see me.
Duncan was tan as ever, despite the rain. He had to be closing in on
fifty, but in appearance the guy was strangely age-ambiguous: a full
head of white hair, the kind of wrinkles that are "distinguished," and
a movie star smile that in my presence has left his face only once.
"How was Salem?"
"Useless as always. Legislators just don't get what we're trying to
accomplish. I was down testifying yesterday about drug courts. The
liberals don't want to see anyone go to prison on a drug case, and the
law-and-order types want to lock 'em all up, whether it works or not.
But you're done with drug cases now, aren't you?"
"Looks like it," I said. "Thank you again, Duncan, for giving me a
chance in Major Crimes."
"Well, I know it's what you wanted. You might not remember this,
Samantha, but you told me that the first time I met you. It's the only
time a job candidate has ever admitted wanting to prosecute murder
trials. Most people try to hide that kind of ambition."
"You asked me what appealed to me about being a state prosecutor after
having served as an AUSA, and I told you the truth. The feds rarely
get a murder case."
"Still, it showed you had balls, if you can excuse the phrase."
"You might not believe this, sir, but that's not the first time I've
heard that particular compliment. Some day we might even get a
gender-neutral word that captures the same gravitas."
"See, that's a perfect example of what I'm talking about. You showed
that same personality during your initial interview. When you choose
to, you can say what you mean and still be very charming."
When I choose to. For now, I chose to ignore the backhanded part of
the compliment. But if he didn't get to the point soon, that voluntary
charm of mine was going on strike.
"I asked you to go with the police to the Easterbrook home on Sunday
for a reason. You've proven that you've got a real compassion for
victims, and I know you've got the ability to be diplomatic and to show
this office in its very best light. I also thought it was a chance for
you to ease into the new rotation with an MCT call-out.
"But I assumed at the time that Clarissa Easterbrook would turn up.
Obviously, she did not, and as a result of my decision you're now on
one of the highest profile murder cases we've had in a long time. If
we're going to take you off it, we should do it sooner rather than
later. Less disruption for the family and for MCT."
"I don't want to be pulled off," I said. "I've already talked to Russ
about this, and he's going to oversee as necessary."
"My concern isn't with your experience or your skills. You're a
terrific attorney."
"But you have a concern?"
"Susan Kerr called me today," he said, sitting back into his chair and
steepling his fingers.
"She told me she was going to. I take it you know her?"
"It's hard not to know her when you've got a public life in Portland.
Bert Kerr had his hand in everything, a big fund raiser for progressive
causes. I remember when I first ran for this office, he bought me an
eighteen-year-old whiskey at Huber s and asked me what I was going to
do as district attorney. He wasn't happy with the typical sound bites;
he pressed me on everything: standing up to the police about reverse
drug buys, the death penalty, improving the quality of life for
neighborhoods. When we were done and I'll never forget it he said,
"You're about as good a man as we're gonna get for a job that puts
human beings in cages." A month later, he raised $40,000 for my
campaign on a single night.
"Susan don't call her Sue or Susie was his new wife back then, and you
can bet the tongues were wagging. She was probably about your age,
and, my God, she was wild. Everyone assumed she was in it for the
money and would be banging the pool boy on the side. But once people
talked to her, they just fell in love. She never tried to act like
something she wasn't. And she came through for Bert in the end. He
was a mess his last couple of years, and she worked her tail off to
make sure no one knew it. A good friend of mine told me that by his
last days she was basically running the show, si
gning his name, doing
whatever she needed to create the appearance that Bert was still going
strong. So, yeah, she can throw her weight around with the best of
them, but I have a lot of respect for her."
"What did she say about the case?"
"She said she appreciated the police coming to her home for her
convenience. She was also pleased to have an attorney on the case so
early. Less likely to have any problems that way. She wanted
assurances you'd be free to oversee things, which I. of course, gave
her."
"But?"
He chuckled. "Always jumping to the bad news, aren't you? As far as
buts go, this one was minor. Let me ask you: Where is this
investigation heading? Is the husband a suspect?"
"Not at this point. He hasn't set off anyone's hunch bells yet, and
he's alibied at OHSU all day Sunday. But he's not cleared, either, so
it's natural that the police are still keeping him in mind."
"Susan was concerned about the tone of the questions about the victim's
marriage. She got the impression that the police might be looking in
only one direction."
I tried to assure him that the police, if anything, were leaning
against the husband as a suspect. I told him about Melvin Jackson and
the search for any sex offenders near the crime scene.
"Why did the police ask Dr. Easterbrook to take a polygraph last