Code 61 - Donald Harstad [123]
“Okay … ”
“When people bleed to death, they become feisty after a bit, agitated. They tend to get aggressive on you. You might not be looking for conspicuous blood spurts after all, but I'll bet there was some sort of thrashing about going on, at a later stage.”
“How later?”
“I expect that she passed through the agitated stages a good forty-five minutes before she died. She would just have been sleepy after that. Subdued state, going to a shocky one. You know.”
That I did. Accident victims will do that, for example. But forty-five minutes?
“Doc, you said forty-five minutes, is that right?”
“That's right. It took her some time, I think.”
“Okay. So, maybe not any indentations, from ligatures, at least.”
“Right. Oh, and Carl?”
“Yeah?”
“She'd maybe tend to get whiny, you know? Like some drunks. Mumbling, too, maybe. If you need anything like that to confirm an account. From a suspect.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate this.”
“Just get whoever it was, Carl.”
“Yeah. We will.”
Afterward, I briefed Hester on the conversation.
“So, now we know at least one more piece of the thing,” she said.
“Yep. Jesus, Hester. Forty-five minutes, at least. I get this image of her knowing what's going on, at least at some point. That she was going to die that night.” I took a deep breath.
“I wonder how long it really took,” she said. “For her to die, I mean.”
“I got the impression of an hour or so,” I said. “At least.” I shrugged. “Gets us right back to 'where' doesn't it? Where could you have that level of isolation and privacy for a good hour?”
We stood in the kitchen, and drank our coffee.
“We gotta talk to Jessica Hunley,” said Hester, running a little cold water in her cup at the sink. The coffee was too hot and too old. “We just have to do that.” She took a sip and poured the rest of the cup into the sink. “Think you'd be able to come along?”
That was a good question. First, our budget was a bit thin. Second, we were short of help due to the damned flu. Third, there was the awkward complication of Hester and me not being able to share a room.
“Let me check with Lamar,” I said.
“Don't go paying for it out of your own pocket,” she said. “I'm serious.”
“Okay.” I sat at the table. “I won't.”
“Remember when Toby said 'When we killed her the first time.' That one gave me the willies, Carl, and I'm not kidding.”
“Me, too. And she asked for help.” I shook my head.
“The little shit was there, all right. She asked for help. She had to know, then, didn't she? That she was going to die.”
Hester nodded her head. “Yeah.”
“Makes you wonder just who else was there, doesn't it?”
“Of those we know, Hanna, Melissa, and Kevin come to mind.” Hester grabbed a paper towel, and wiped up a small coffee spill on the table, from the previous occupant. Busywork.
I hated to ask, but, “How about Huck? Think she was there?”
Hester shook her head. “At the murder scene? No. But she knows who was, I'd bet my life on it.”
I called Lamar, and got him thinking about my trip to Lake Geneva. I could tell on the phone he'd approve it, but it would take him a little while.
I called Harry over in Conception County. I wanted to have him connect me with the local cops in Lake Geneva, but he went one better. He said he'd just come along, since he thought we were pursuing the same suspect. Great news.
Hester and I decided against calling Jessica Hunley to make an appointment. We both agreed the element of surprise, or at least unexpectedness, was going to be the key when we came calling on her. We'd just have Harry contact the locals and make sure she was in town.
On the other hand, we wanted to be expected, if not downright anticipated, at the Mansion.
We left instructions with Dispatch that we would give them a “ten-twenty-one” over the radio, at which point they would telephone the Mansion. We told them exactly what to say when they called to tell the group we were coming.