CHAPTER 16

After her day with Detective Ever Ready, Helen felt like she’d been run over by a trash truck. She trudged home from the gym, limp hair straggling down her sweat-damp neck. Her clothes were wrinkled and her makeup was gone, except for the raccoon eyes created by her smudged liner.

At the Coronado apartments, she ran into Margery hosing the pool deck. Actually, her landlady was hosing down her feet in their purple flip-flops. She reminded Helen of a kid playing in a lawn sprinkler. A cynical kid with gray hair who smoked Marlboros.

Helen waved and called her name.

Margery turned off the hose and said, “You look like hell. Get in my apartment and cool off. Get yourself a drink.”

Helen obeyed. She fixed herself a tall ice water and collapsed at Margery’s kitchen table.

Her landlady nuked a brownie the size of a potholder. Margery kept an endless supply in the freezer for emotional emergencies.When Phil joined them, their landlady nuked another, then fixed herself a screwdriver that was short on orange juice and long on liquor.

Margery sat at her kitchen table, smoking, sipping and watching Helen and Phil demolish their brownies. Helen turned down the offer of the screwdriver, then tore into her warm brownie and wished she could make Detective Ever Ready disappear as fast.

As she revived, she told Margery and Phil about Debbi’s death, the angry mob of gym members and the West Hills detective who jumped to conclusions.

“Ever Ready has decided—on no evidence at all—that Evie poisoned Debbi,” Helen said. “When I told him that Heather had given Debbi a fruit smoothie, he wasn’t interested. It seems to me, Heather had the easiest way to poison Debbi—if she even died that way.”

“And you think this Heather woman would poison Debbi over a fight about a television channel?” Margery said.

“People kill for stupider reasons than that,” Phil said.

“That’s exactly what Ever Ready said,” Helen told him. Her tone made it clear she didn’t appreciate Phil’s conclusion.

“Sounds like you need a drink after the day you had,” Phil said.

“I’d rather work on Gus’s case,” Helen said.

“If you’re sure,” Phil said. “You look like you’ve spent the day in a cement mixer.”

“I’ve spent the day with an idiot,” Helen said. “I want to spend time with a smart man.”

“Glad you put me in that category,” Phil said. “The paperwork is at my place. I’ll make us coffee.”

Ten minutes later, Helen settled on Phil’s couch with a stapled pile of paper and a cup of strong coffee.

“This is a copy of Mark’s 1986 accident report from Sunset Palms.”

“How did you get that?”

“It’s public record,” Phil said. “Easy to find once I had the right city. I’ve made copies for both of us.”

Helen was surprised the report was so thick—twenty pages. The report reduced Mark’s fatal beauty to gray language, neat numbers and checkmark choices. Each small detail added to its chilling weight.

The report, numbered 86-3866, was signed by Officer Dolan Hayward. His clear writing was back-slanted, if as pointing backward in time.

“Florida Uniform Accident Report,” it began. “Agency Name: S.P.P.D.” That must be Sunset Palms Police Department, Helen decided. The location was Broward County, the street address 3868 Palmwood Boulevard. Hayward had recorded the accident time as 1:43 p.m. “Time notified” was the same.

“One injured,” Hayward had written. “Number of vehicles involved—three.” Not just cars were damaged—Mark also had crashed into a building, Ahmet’s Elegant Imports Co.

Mark had been driving a black ’85 Chevy Monte Carlo, sporty wheels for a single man. Helen could see the car in her mind—shiny, chromed, fast.

Officer Hayward had used a diagram on the form to show the accident damage to Mark’s Monte Carlo. The front end and fenders had been crushed. He must have hit the building hard.

Before Mark crashed into the building, he’d also smashed into Ahmet’s car—a parked red ’83 Mercedes registered to Ahmet’s Elegant Imports.After Mark damaged the front end of the Mercedes, he drove into the building. Ahmet’s wounded red Mercedes spun around and collided with a parked white Ford belonging to Lorraine Yavuz.

Black, white, red—cars the colors of death.

“Who is Lorraine Yavuz?” Helen asked. “A relative?”

“Ahmet’s mother,” Phil said. “His father is dead. I found that out myself.”

Helen went back to reading. Officer Hayward had found Mark in his black car, covered with red blood. His account was less colorful: “Upon arrival I observed Driver No. 1 sitting in the driver’s seat,” Hayward had written. “He was bleeding very heavily from the left side of his head and he appeared unconscious.”

The dazzling Mark was now dreary Driver No. 1.

“The Sunset Palms paramedics then arrived at the scene,” the officer reported. “The paramedics began first-aid treatment. As the paramedics were lifting Driver No. 1 from the auto, I observed an automatic pistol on the driver’s side floorboard, a .32 Mauser. The pistol was taken by this officer and given to P.O. Stone, who was assisting at the scene, who later tagged it into evidence.”

While the paramedics fought to save Mark, Officer Hayward charged him with two felonies: “destruction of private property and unlawful use of a weapon.”

“How did the officer know the weapon was used?” Helen asked.

“He could tell the weapon had been discharged,” Phil said. “He’d smell the cordite. It’s an overpowering smell. Even on a rifle range the smell is pervasive.You don’t get rid of it.”

“How did he know that Mark fired it?”

“He couldn’t know that,” Phil said. “He made an assumption.”

“And passed it off as fact,” Helen said. She thought the passionless prose provided cover for the police officer’s wild speculation.

Officer Hayward dutifully recorded that the unconscious Mark was not given a Miranda warning. “At this time, P.O. Stone located several witnesses. Their statements are included in report 86-3867.”

Hayward’s report was written in soothing, stilted officialese. Helen could almost hear him reciting it to a jury. Mark wasn’t “taken by ambulance”; he was “conveyed.” Officer Hayward did not go with him to the hospital; he “responded” there.

While at Broward County Hospital, “this officer was advised by Dr.Wiley that Driver No. 1 was being treated for the head injury and would be admitted to the hospital. I then responded to the station, where I contacted Sgt. Clark, who advised me of the following:

“Sgt. Clark spoke with Ahmet Yavuz (owner of Yavuz Elegant Imports), who stated that he had known Mark B. (Driver No. 1) for about five years. The last time that he saw Mark B. was in September 1985, and at that time Mark B. had suffered a nervous breakdown. Ahmet Yavuz further advised that in speaking with Mark B., he began talking ‘very crazy,’ telling him he could save the world.

“This officer was advised by the Broward County Hospital staff that Mark B. was being treated for a possible gunshot wound to the head. Dr. Wiley confirmed that the bullet entered the left side and exited the right side. I was further advised that Mark B. was in stable condition; however, he was unable to talk at this time.

“Sgt. Clark then responded to the tow yard and conducted a search of Vehicle No. 1. Sgt. Clark seized a slug found on the right front seat. Also seized was an empty casing found on the floorboard under the right front seat and a blue cotton blanket found on the floorboard, right front side. NOTE: The blanket appears to have a bullet hole in same.”

Helen stopped reading. “Why would someone shoot a blanket?”

“Blankets, couch cushions and pillows can be homemade silencers,” Phil said.

“But the police said Mark committed suicide,” Helen said. “He wouldn’t need a silencer.” She stopped. “This is more evidence that he was murdered, isn’t it?”

“I think so,” Phil said. “But the cops won’t. They’ll tell you that suicides do strange things. It’s how they dismiss any loose end—and there are always loose ends.”

Helen read a “property disposition report” for Mark’s “auto accident/suicide attempt.” It said that the “.32-caliber W-W auto casing, copper slug and .32-caliber W-W auto unfired round” were held for evidence in a property cabinet. So was the blanket. A wallet, ID and thirty dollars were in “safekeeping; pending claim.”

“What’s a W-W auto casing?” Helen asked.

“That stands for Winchester-Western,” Phil said.

Officer Hayward’s report continued, stately, sad and strangely hypnotic: “As the paramedics responded to the scene, P.O. Stone observed and seized a .32 Mauser pistol that was lying on the floorboard of the driver’s side of the vehicle. See attached for a description of the pistol. The same was loaded with one round in the chamber and two rounds in the clip. Above scene was photographed by the undersigned officer. Vehicle No. 1 was then towed from the scene to 104400 Commercial.”

The weapon was a “.32 automatic Mauser Brand 3 inch pistol #765 steel blue,” also held for evidence.

“I’m confused,” Helen said. “In the earlier report, Officer Hayward saw the gun, picked it up and gave it to Officer Stone. Now we have Stone seizing the same gun from the floorboards. What’s going on?”

“Looks like ass covering to me,” Phil said. “I’m guessing Hayward saw the gun during the confusion and kept it, but something interfered with the chain of custody. So he rewrote history here to make it official.”

“Huh,” Helen said. “Another reason to suspect this report—and the police conclusions.”

The two witness reports were next, dutifully documented by Officer Hayward:

“Sgt. Clark also spoke with Witness No. 1, Cleveland Berlin, who stated just prior to the accident he heard a car that sounded like it was traveling south on the driveway at a high rate of speed. Berlin heard the tires squealing and it sounded like the car was coming north and then south again. He then heard the crash.

“Witness No.2, Lorraine Yavuz, stated she was inside the building that was struck, and that she was the nearest person to the point of impact. Witness No. 2 stated that she was not injured and that no one else was near nor was anyone else injured.”

Helen stopped reading. “The police don’t say that Witness No. 2 was Ahmet’s mother,” she said.

“There’s a lot the police don’t say,” Phil said.

“Both witnesses heard the crash,” Helen said. “But nobody heard the gunshot.”

“The blanket was a silencer,” Phil said. He handed Helen one more page. “Here’s the final report.” It was dated three days after the accident.

“On today’s date at about 1400 hours, Sgt. Clark received a phone call from Mr. Harcourt Revill, an investigator with the Sunset Palms Medical Examiner’s Office. He advised that Mark Behr had died at 1230 hours at Broward County Hospital and had been pronounced dead by Dr. Wiley of the staff of the hospital. The medical examiner’s office is investigating the incident and requested a complete copy of the reports be sent to their office. At this time the medical examiner has not released his findings as to cause of death.”

Helen stared at the single gray typed paragraph. “That’s it?”

“That’s all I found,” Phil said. “We know the cause of death. We saw the death certificate. The medical examiner said Mark committed suicide.”

“Did the police test Mark’s hands for gunpowder residue to find out if he actually fired the gun?” Helen asked.

“No,” Phil said. “They couldn’t. The doctors and paramedics were trying to save his life. That evidence would have been destroyed while they were treating him.”

“Why didn’t the police check out Ahmet Yavuz?” Helen asked.

“Did they know he was a drug dealer?”

“The patrol officer might not have known Ahmet was a dealer,” Phil said. “He was never convicted or arrested. Once Mark died, there was no reason to investigate the accident further. It was closed as a suicide.”

“So there was a conspiracy,” Helen said.

“I don’t think so,” Phil said. “Sunset Palms is a small force. A couple of overworked cops were offered an easy answer, and they took it.”

“Mark was murdered,” Helen said. “This report says he shot himself and he used a silencer.”

“Not quite,” Phil said. “It says a blanket with a bullet hole was found in his car. I said it could have been a silencer.”

“And he brought a silencer to commit suicide? I don’t think so,” Helen said. “Where did Mark get the gun? Did he own a Mauser? What happened to it?”

“More questions we’ll have to answer,” Phil said.

“Is there paperwork that says what happened to Mark’s gun?” Helen asked.

“There should be,” Phil said. “I’ll keep searching in the Sunset Palms files. I hope the rest of the paperwork hasn’t been lost after twenty-five years.”

“Maybe it’s missing for a reason,” Helen said.