Campbell stared as Alexa did a jab, a few crosses, and an uppercut. Her job was done. The automatic system had determined a Positive result: the dead man was Harlan Quinn. All that “he’s coming tomorrow” and “he’s in Germany” was crap. She thanked Campbell and headed to the car. The station was six minutes away.
DI Steele and a stocky uniformed woman with a silver bob were in the atrium when she rushed in. She interrupted their discussion. “I’ve got important news.”
“This is Superintendent Kate Parker,” DI Steele said. To the superintendent, she said, “This is Ms. Glock, our forensic expert from Auckland.”
Superintendent Parker had an upturned nose and recessed eyes. “What’s your news?” she asked.
“I’ve identified the bunker body. It’s Harlan Quinn. I just found out.”
“The man in the bunker is the California billionaire?” Superintendent Parker asked.
DI Steele’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”
“Teeth don’t lie.” Uttering those three words thrilled Alexa.
“So that’s why no one in Germany had seen him and he hadn’t FaceTimed his family. He’s been dead. What’s the cause of death?” DI Steele asked.
Alexa was annoyed that her big news was pushed aside so quickly. “Dr. Li ruled out heart attack. But we still don’t know how he died.”
“We’ll have to delay the press conference so you can notify Quinn’s next of kin,” Superintendent Parker said. “I’ll grant you an extra hour.”
DI Steele watched Superintendent Parker rush away. “Progress, finally. Let’s go.”
Alexa followed her up a flight of stairs into a briefing room. One wall was glass, a New Zealand flagpole stood in a corner, the flag a blue and red wilt, and three long tables were arranged U-shaped.
“I’ll make some calls, get the team together,” DI Steele said.
Alexa went up to the whiteboard. Harlan Quinn’s photo was tacked on one side and a photo of the body—taken from a distance—was tacked on the other. Each had a list scribbled below. Alexa read under Quinn’s photo:
46 years old male, dark hair, H: 177 cm, W: 81 k.
married: Audrey Quinn, 40, one daughter
home address: Silverspring Drive, Palo Alto, CA
last seen by family: 31 March
NZ Address: Black Reef (big house, cottage, bunker)
business: BioMatic
Palo Alto liaison: Chief Andrew Petrie
In Germany on biz (?)
- denied by company rep
Property manager: Lynn Lockhart, Auckland (?)
Under John Doe it said:
adult male, middle-aged, dark hair, T-shirt, jeans, jandles
H: 177 cm, W: 85 k.
found: Black Reef bunker
dead several days, COD ?
no phone, wallet
no obs foul play, suicide note, drug paraphernalia
computer encrypted
air quality in bunker ???
- CO2 detector dead battery
Alexa matched the two lists now that she knew they were one and the same person. The weights of John Doe and Harlan Quinn were off, but everyone lied about their weight, Alexa believed. She sucked in her stomach. She might have to add crunches to her kickboxing routine.
An enlarged sketch of the bunker, with a star marking where the body had been found and the two entrances circled in red, was tacked to the side.
“That’s that, then,” DI Steele announced. “Sergeant Atkins and Constable Gavin are on their way. I told Atkins not to tell the property manager, eh? The wife deserves to know first. How was your dinner? What did you find out?”
“She admitted she and Quinn were lovers. She said he planned to marry her.”
“No chance of that now. I’m calling my Palo Alto liaison officer now. Notifying next of kin should be in person, and I want to listen in. What time is it in California?”
Alexa did the mental arithmetic and came up with noon, yesterday.
“Where are you on that pink tooth thing?”
“The test will take a while.”
“I’ll put a rush on it, get this thing wrapped up.” She looked at Alexa. “You’ll be free to go after the press conference.”
No “Job well done.” No “Thanks for your service.” Alexa was ambivalent about being dismissed. She hated not knowing how Quinn died, but she’d be free to see Bruce. And the girls.
She headed to the lab to finish reports. As with all cases, she’d need to be prepared to justify her conclusions in court. She carefully completed the dental identification forms and sent them to DI Steele and her boss. When she finished, she located a pink teeth article in an online forensic journal.
The man in the case study had been kidnapped and murdered. His body was in advanced decomp. The examiner discovered three pink teeth, the color deeper at the neck of each tooth.
Alexa liked the term neck of the tooth. It referred to the area near the gumline.
The coroner listed the cause of the man’s death as asphyxia. In the Discussion section of the article, the authors concluded that pink teeth alone weren’t reliable indicators for determining cause of death, but PTP sometimes occurred in cases related to asphyxia.
Had Harlan Quinn run out of air in the bunker?
Sergeant Atkins popped her head through the door, making her jump. “Thought you might want to hear the convo with Mrs. Quinn. Plus Senior needs to see you.”
Constable Gavin put his finger to his lips when the two of them walked into the incident room. DI Steele looked surprised to see Alexa and motioned for them to stand closer to her phone, which she had propped up. “It’s on speaker,” she whispered.
A man identified himself as Chief Andrew Petrie of the Palo Alto Police Department and stated the time and date. Alexa thought she heard music in the background and then maybe a door shut.
You spoke with my secretary yesterday. What is it this time? a woman said.
Alexa recognized Mrs. Quinn’s voice.
I am sorry to tell you I have bad news. It has been confirmed that your husband is dead. In New Zealand.
“Doesn’t beat around the bush, does he?” Sergeant Atkins whispered.
DI Steele put her finger to her lips.
Harlan is not in New Zealand.
His body was found in the bunker on his estate. Is there someone you can call to be with you? the officer asked.
Harlan is in Germany.
Dental X-rays confirm that the deceased is Mr. Harlan Quinn, the chief said. I know this news is distressing. Is there someone who can come be with you?
I did not release any of Harlan’s health records.
Her voice sounded worried, Alexa thought.
A dentist in New Zealand had records of Mr. Quinn.
You are mistaken.
Chief Petrie’s voice stayed patient. Mrs. Quinn, when did you last see Mr. Quinn?
Letitia. Come in here. Mrs. Quinn’s voice was shrill now, maybe on the verge of panic. This man, this police officer, has some story about Harlan being dead. Tell him where he is.
A new voice chimed in. I’m Letitia, Mrs. Quinn’s personal secretary. We talked on the phone yesterday. As I said, Mr. Quinn left for Germany on April first.
April Fool’s Day, Alexa reflected.
That’s a week ago. Where in Germany was he going? Chief Petrie asked.
Munich, the secretary answered. To PharmaTex.
I checked yesterday, ma’am. His voice was tight. The spokesperson said they weren’t expecting Mr. Quinn and hadn’t seen him.
Harlan doesn’t always announce his arrival, Mrs. Quinn said. Dropping in is more productive.
Have you heard from him since he left, Mrs. Quinn? FaceTime? Texts? Phone calls?
No. As Letitia told you, I’ve been at a retreat where contact with the outside was restricted.
Chief Petrie cleared his throat. Mr. Quinn must have left Germany and flown to New Zealand. Did he have any medical conditions? Was he seeing a therapist or counselor?
I don’t know what you are getting at. Mrs. Quinn’s voice quivered. I need to pick up my daughter.
The Chief repeated how sorry he was. Alexa heard a door slam. The secretary said, Is it true?
There was silence.
Oh poor Chloe, Letitia said.
The Chief said thank you, gave the time, and terminated the recording.
DI Steele’s eyes jumped to the whiteboard. “The wife denies he’s dead.”
“I think it was sinking in, though,” Constable Gavin said. “The shock and all.”
DI Steele adjusted her cap and stared at Alexa. “Superintendent Parker dropped by. She wanted to know how certain you are that the body in the morgue is Quinn’s. Our legal affairs department doesn’t like that we have no contextual evidence except location.”
Alexa didn’t appreciate her professional integrity being questioned, but she understood. They’d just told the wife Harlan Quinn was dead and were about to announce the billionaire’s death to the rest of the world. She sucked in air. “Comparative dental analysis is one of the most reliable means of positive scientific identification.”
“Is that yeah nah or nah yeah?” Constable Gavin asked.
“Nah yeah, you idjit,” Sergeant Atkins said.
“Let’s meet the press, then,” DI Steele said.