“And I’m telling you the Kimba case is closed.” Chief Garland threw the file on his desk and looked hard at Nicoletti. “The medical examiner found the injuries consistent with a fall down a flight of stairs. The doctor’s neck was broken during the fall. End of story.”
“But suppose I’m right,” Nicoletti said, “and Dr. Kimba was murdered to keep him from identifying his patient as Marie-Justine’s killer. If you stop the investigation into Dr Kimba’s death before you get a court order to look through his patient files, all you’re doing is giving the killer time to get away or strike again.”
“There is no mystery patient, no Mr. X.”
“How do you know? Until you review the files—”
“I looked at the files. There were twenty-seven active files in Kimba’s office, and none of them matched your Mr. X.”
“I thought you were waiting for a court order.”
“When the ME came back with a finding of accidental death, the chances of getting a warrant evaporated.” Garland sat on the corner of his desk. “I took a look at the files just in case the ME was wrong and you were right.”
Nicoletti looked at the chief. He knew Garland had just admitted to the commission of a crime. The review of the doctor’s files without court authorization could cost him his job, force his resignation, and end his political ambitions. Garland had just handed Nicoletti information that could be used against him, officially and unofficially. It was a sharing of a confidence that changed Nicoletti’s opinion of the man and would change the nature of their relationship.
“So you do believe me.”
“I don’t know what to believe. The DA thinks you made up the whole Mr. X thing. Even if the medical examiner had ruled Dr. Kimba’s death suspicious, he was ready to go with the theory that you’re the killer and that something you said to Kimba made him suspicious of you. He thinks you went to Kimba’s house, killed him to cover your tracks, and invented Kimba’s concerns about his patient to send us on a wild goose chase.”
“What about the flower vase, the dress, the nightlight in the bathroom? That proves the killer was stalking Marie-Justine. Add to that the posing of her body, the makeup, combing her hair, and the method of death. It all means you’ve got a serial killer, advanced in his technique and probably well on his way to killing again. Doesn’t the DA give a shit about that?”
“We agree on the postmortem manipulation of the victim. As far as knowing about her house and clothing, those are things you could have seen on Sunday.”
“Could have, but I didn’t,” Nicoletti said calmly. “What about Kimba’s appointment book? We could match the entries to the patient files. If there is a name in the appointment book that does not have a matching file, it could be Mr. X.”
“There is no appointment book,” Garland said.
“Have you ever heard of a doctor who did not keep an appointment book?”
“No, that’s why I’m not completely willing to accept Kimba’s death as an accident,” Garland said. “But the DA will explain it as part of your diabolical plan. You could have removed the appointment book to bolster the theory that there is a missing file.”
“You were at the house when I left with Pandori. You didn’t see me carry out any appointment book.”
“You think that’s going to influence the DA? He’ll just go with the possibility that you went to the house, killed Kimba, then took the appointment book back to your hotel or threw it out along the way. Then you took a cab back to Kimba’s house to establish a timeline and provide a witness to your arrival. Once you were back inside Kimba’s, you talked to Pandori and waited for the rest of us to arrive.”
“For Chrissake, why not theorize that the deaths were the work of aliens visiting Earth for a few days?”
“Because no one has seen any aliens around town, but plenty of people have seen you.” Garland softened his voice. “Look, Nicoletti, I know it sucks. But I’m just telling you the way it is, but I’m still a cop who knows when something doesn’t feel right. So if you’ve got any other ideas, I’m willing to listen.”
Nicoletti thought of telling Garland about the gray coat, the phone calls from the pay phone, and Durbin standing outside Anne’s house. He decided to wait, even though it made him feel guilty. Garland’s sudden reasonableness wasn’t guaranteed to continue beyond his last sentence.
“Why did you advise me not to talk directly to the press?” Garland asked.
“Because you are the top official in the department. By you discussing the case, you are granting the killer the satisfaction of knowing he is dealing with the boss. If he’s ego-driven, it only rewards him when you are interviewed or quoted.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Have a captain or even a sergeant handle the press. Make the bastard feel like you think he’s a piece of shit, not worthy of your attention.”
The chief’s phone rang. He picked it up and listened, then hung up. “I’ve got another appointment,” Garland said as a way of dismissing Nicoletti. “Pandori is looking for you. He’s in his office, upstairs.”
Nicoletti made his way down the hall. A tall, elegant, gray-haired man with a dark tan and an expensive suit brushed past him. Over his shoulder, Nicoletti heard Chief Garland’s greeting.
“Dr. Cantrell, thank you for coming. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Nicoletti heard the chief’s heavy wooden door close. He started up the staircase. At the first landing, he met Pandori.
“Hey, Nico, I’ve been looking for you. They just brought in a suspect.”
“Is it Dr. Cantrell?” Nicoletti followed Pandori down the stairs.
“Cantrell? No. It’s a local kid by the name of Benson. Tim Benson.”
“A kid? How old is he?”
“Nineteen, maybe twenty. Reichert is interviewing him right now.” Pandori stopped at the door to the interrogation room.
“That’s too young,” Nicoletti said.
“We’ll see. Go up and wait in my office. I left the door open. I’ll be back up after the initial questioning. Then we can go out to the crime scene, if you still want to.”
“Nineteen is too young,” Nicoletti said again.