Sleight of Hand, Page 4

CHAPTER THREE

  JONAH TURNED TO DOUG. "Lock it down. No one comes in or out and get some uniforms up here. I want every person in this hotel questioned and every room canvassed." Precious time had been lost, time they would never regain and time enough for the real murderer to flee the building.

  "Get me the scoop on the deceased. Work, friends, women, everyone." Jonah cursed himself. How could he have been so reckless?

  "Don't beat yourself up," Doug said. "Anyone would have come to the same conclusion."

  If this advice had come from a veteran detective, Jonah would accept it. He didn't like mistakes. In fact, he never made them, at least, on the job. This was a first. He didn't like the feeling.

  Jonah went over possible motives for someone wanting Darrin Harper dead: The retribution of a jealous lover; the retaliation for a business deal gone sour; an unpaid gambling debt. Revenge, retaliation, retribution .... all powerful motivators to take a life. One thing for certain was that the victim was not in the wrong place at the wrong time. Darrin was right where he wanted to be. In bed and ripe for sex.

  The techs finished with the victim and for the first time since Jonah came into the room, he closely examined the body. Now he saw the blood splatter — or more accurately the lack of blood splatter — for what it was. The heart had already stopped pumping when his wife killed him.

  "Blunt force trauma," the Doc had said. Jonah looked around the room for a murder weapon. A telephone, a lamp — a cheap imitation of brass — and nothing minutely resembling a blunt object. Something else troubled him.

  How did Harper end up on his back after receiving a hit to the back of his head? He must have been standing when he was struck. Gravity would have pulled him forward. He should have fallen on his face, which left Jonah concluding: Whoever killed him positioned him on the bed. Jonah also surmised that at some point Harper turned his back to the murderer, which caused Jonah to think Harper either knew his attacker or trusted him...or her. He hadn't excluded a female assailant.

  Jonah looked through the open doorway to the hallway beyond. The corridor bustled with onlookers, uniformed cops and hotel workers, opposite that of moments before when he believed he had the murderer in custody and the scene was contained.

  He called to Doug and invited him in. "How do you see the murder going down?"

  Doug looked around the room, obviously studying and making determinations. When he turned back, Jonah said before Doug could open his mouth, "Take your time. The murder isn't going anywhere."

  His partner studied the room again, either confirming or arguing his initial findings with himself. After a thorough evaluation and one complete revolution, he cleared his throat and said, "The Doc said a blunt blow did in the deceased, but there's no weapon in the room strong enough to produce or withstand an impact like that."

  Good so far, Jonah thought. "What are you suggesting?"

  "The assailant either took the murder weapon with him, or a part of his anatomy was the murder weapon. A hand, a foot, a kick from a steel-toe boot, even. In either case, the murder weapon left with him."

  The rooms at The Spartacus, like most hotels, were identical to one another. Jonah knew, having been in the room next door, that nothing was missing from this room, so he had to go with the perpetrator walking out of the room, and possibly the hotel, with the murder weapon.

  "What else?" Jonah asked.

  "There's no sign of a struggle, so Harper either knew his attacker or wasn't threatened by him."

  "Anything else?" Jonah wasn't feeling adept to teach at the moment, but suffered through. It would take him a long time to recover from this blunder. He still couldn't believe he misread the crime scene.

  Doug shook his head.

  "Are you sure?" Jonah wanted Doug to second-guess himself. His mind needed to be open to other possibilities. Rash and unfounded conclusions could hinder a further thought process, such as what happened when Jonah first entered the murder scene. He had taken too much for granted on first glance. A mistake he would never make again.

  "Not to my eye and barring the unforeseen, yes."

  Ah. There was some lawyer in young Douglas. That was fine, too. It'd be those skills that would keep him sharp and aware. "How do you suppose the victim landed on his back when he was hit on the back of his head?"

  Doug looked from Jonah's face to the deceased and back again.

  Jonah saw awareness dawning on Doug's face. Jonah was pleased with the progress of his young protégé. Doug had come a long way in a short time.

  "He was placed in that position."

  "Caught before he fell and dropped. Which would..." Jonah waited for Doug to continue with his thought.

  "Indicate a male perpetrator."

  "Or?"

  "A very strong female."

  "Why would the perp catch Harper, though? Why didn't he just let him fall to the floor?"

  Doug rubbed his chin. "He cared for him, maybe?"

  "Or maybe the murderer's a neat freak and likes everything in its place. According to the wife, Harper loved the girls. Maybe the killer knew that and set him in a scene anyone who knew him would believe. Why, though?"

  Jonah bent to study the deceased. What women saw in him was beyond Jonah. Pot-bellied and flabby, the man wasn't someone who turned a girl's eye. Under closer scrutiny, Jonah noticed something vermilion poking out from the collar of the victim's shirt. He used his army knife to tempt the item into the open.

  "What you got there?" Doug asked, leaning close to Jonah.

  He held the item up to the light. "A feather. What do you make of it?"

  "Damned if I know any bird with feathers that color."

  “Neither do I.”

  Jonah sighed. This case was getting more bizarre with each passing minute.