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"And you wonder why I took a nice, cushy job watching over inanimate objects," McCann said, coming up behind them after getting cleared by the EMTs.
Nash wanted to laugh at him. He felt wet, sticky, and slightly charred, but Nash was sure he didn't look any better. "Admit it, your job is more boring though."
"No. I don't almost get blown up." He motioned for Nash to follow him back into the bedroom with the body. There was not much Nash could do at any rate until the tech took the safe back to the lab and cracked it open. They would call with results—if any were available—so he did what McCann requested.
Inside, the crime scene was toast—like everything else inside the apartment. Haziness from the leftover smoke made the air thick and stagnant. Techs tried to open windows in order to clear it, but it was taking time to dissipate. Little bits of debris had floated in, forced in by the blast, whatever evidence existed before from Russel Herrick's body, now ruined.
With sealed hands, McCann leaned down to push the dead man's eyelids closed. "Lovely fireworks aside... when you do this job, you rarely discover dead bodies. Or, I should say. fresh ones. Most are a hundred-plus years old, pulled out of the ground or dusty tombs."
Nash opened his mouth, all at once blowing out a lengthy breath. "Okay, I'll give you that one. This part never gets easier. Catching who committed the crime makes everything seem right. In your place, I'd be more pissed. Murder shouldn't be happening in your world."
"You're not wrong. You'll want to secure this body, hurry up and bag him so he can be removed. Contaminated beyond belief now, the poor man, and the chances of finding out who did it less likely." Luke waved in the coroner's men, who had been hovering in the doorway. "Looks like he killed himself."
"Wait a minute. Wait!" Nash stopped them. "He didn't kill himself. Who the hell kills themselves and then leaves a bomb?"
"Your man Victor will determine what the actual cause of death is when he gets him back to the office, but study him for a moment. He had no marks on his body. I saw nothing before the blast, in any case. He was lying down. There is no indication someone beat him up like our other victim—looks downright peaceful. The techs had by this time bagged a glass of wine from the table beside him and an empty pill bottle," McCann said before whirling on a dime.
He snatched an evidence bag from the tech exiting the room. "There's also a note saying he ended his life because he couldn't deal with the murder of Albert. He says that Blue seduced him into helping her murder the man and steal the diamond."
"Blue didn't seduce anyone."
"You assume she wouldn't, but even you can't pursue the lead and investigate it. You don't want someone to complain, saying you didn't consider Blue to be a suspect because you know her. Your career will be over." Luke looked at Cam and then back at Nash. "Marco has, as of now, filed a complaint saying Blue threatened him and that you aren't doing anything to stop her. Security cameras show Blue going into Marco's hotel room with her giant thug. His assistant, Cara Adams, came in and made a statement."
There was no point glaring at Cam, who was busy inspecting the closet. The more they talked, the deeper and deeper he moved into its depths.
"And you don't find that a little suspicious? They came to you...to the museum, to file their complaint. If I was really doing something wrong—if Blue was—why wouldn't they go to my superiors?" Nash asked. Because this should have been a common-sense assumption, Nash thought. "Marco is into this up to his eyeballs, and if I keep letting him push the focus onto Blue, we'll never catch him. You're standing next to a body, Inspector General McCann—the second one Marco's responsible for," Nash finished.
Luke folded his arms over his chest. "Explain to me how this murder was and why I shouldn't ask for a different special agent to be assigned to the case. Maybe I should talk to your superiors and persuade them to remove you from this case! Why should I refrain from sending officers after Blue? She should sit in an interrogation room, waiting for us. I see damning evidence against her in front of my eyes." Temper flashed hot over his face and made his eyes sharp.
Nash kept his focus on Luke, but called Cam. As he waited for his partner to come out of hiding, Nash struggled not to roll his eyes.
"Yes?" his partner asked hesitantly.
"What do you notice?" Nash asked.
"Well. Male, late twenties, early thirties. I think Burgess said he was thirty, but I would have to check again. Large build, no signs of struggle or distress," Cam stopped as Luke handed him the sealed note. "Looks like common rhetoric you hear in most suicides, typed instead of handwritten. I didn't find a computer or printer unless it got blown up. Even then, there would be pieces. Pills in the bottle were for depression. All are missing. We must gain access to medical records to identify the doctor who gave him the diagnosis, if any. The date on the bottle was four months ago. Seems like a long span of time without a refill." Cam continued.
Nash nodded when he saw Luke shift. "Good catch! That fact is one thing contradicting the notion of suicide. What else?"
"Suicides for men are usually more violent. Pills are a woman's method—statistically. Guys go for guns. As far as I can tell, no wine can be found. Lots of beer in the fridge, but where's the bottle that goes with the remnants from the glass?"
Luke held up a hand. "He could have taken out the trash already."
"No, sir." Cam disagreed.
"Why?" Luke questioned. "I tidy up then go sit after a long day to enjoy my drink."
"It's different for you. This guy had a full trash can in the kitchen, never emptied." Cam went into the room, coming back with the small can which had been tucked under the sink as proof.
"Keep going." Nash prodded.
"Plus, the note says he's beside himself, but he's had the pills forever. Does he just remember them now? Why put explosives in the next room? You said you did it earlier. Why get rid of the evidence? No one came to question him yet, so why wouldn't he consider he got away with it? Blue has been in Nash's office and at Marco's. When did she obtain time and opportunity to seduce and kill him?" Cam fired off his own questions. Things they would need to answer during their investigation.
"Cam," Nash clapped him on the back, "I'm so proud."
Luke looked back and forth between them. "Okay, say I believe all that. How did someone sneak in here, set his stuff to blow and convince the giant man to eat a bunch of pills?"
"Someone seduced him." Nash shrugged. "That part is genuine. I admit, I think he let someone in. Male or female, depending on what his preference is, but we'll find out. Most likely, he ingested drugs while they were getting hot and heavy, then he passed out or died. They made it appear like a suicide, and they rigged the room to cover their asses."
Luke finally nodded, the pieces falling into place for him as well. "He was a tool. Albert was the first tool they cast off. Someone used him to accomplish what they wanted—the diamond, and revenge on Blue. He meant nothing to them."
"No, I don't imagine he did. Some people are dispensable to others." Nash breathed it, knowing that there was always another body just like this to stand over. Someone that another person thought was disposable.
"I missed things, and I shouldn't have. I would have seen those clues once. Perhaps I am getting too soft," McCann murmured to himself, before shaking himself a little and coming back to the conversation. "That's beside the point. I'll go with the techs, see if my people can help your people speed things up a bit. There are clothes for me at the museum. I can clean up there."
"No problem," Nash said.
"I'll text you with anything we find. I imagine you want to go home and clean up too. You got it worse than I did." Luke smirked a little, looking Nash up and down.
"As soon as I clean up—" he began. They had been walking to the elevator during the last part of the conversation, both intent on following the newest set of clues—and putting themselves back to rights. They had been standing in front of the elevator when someone cut their conversation off, as Nash got pulled inside. He caught the look of astonishment on McCann's face as the doors closed.
Nash's body slammed against the back wall, sliding down a little toward the floor until he was able to get a hold of the railing and his feet back underneath him. He stood, gaping like a fish as he looked up at the back of Butters' bald head. "WHAT THE HELL!"
Butters turned slightly to look over one beefed-up shoulder, a shaggy dark eyebrow raised over a swarthy brow. "What?"
"Don't WHAT me you overgrown gopher. Where the hell did you come from and why the HELL did you yank me into the elevator like that?" Nash asked, moving around, so he could poke the man in the shoulder. It was like poking a brick and Nash had to hide that his hand was shaking behind his back while he waited for an answer.
"Blue wants to see you," was the monotone reply. The man had turned around to face the elevator doors and wouldn't even give Nash the satisfaction of looking at him.
"So? I'm busy here!" Nash screamed again. "They almost blew me to smithereens. I'm a mess and she demands an audience? This clusterfuck is her damn fault in the first place. All of this is about her."
"Careful." Butters' voice dipped icily as he warned.
"What are you going to do? Rough me up some too?" Nash taunted.
The criminal had the nerve to roll his eyes and Nash was positive that he heard 'Such a whiny ass,' come from under the man's breath.
However, before he could demand that he repeat himself; Nash was frog marched out the silver doors. Then through the lobby filled with people panicking and out into the parking lot—all by the scruff of his shirt like he was some sort of wayward child. Afterwards, Butters opened a gleaming black door to a stretched limo, throwing him unceremoniously into the back.
"Hey! Easy with the merchandise," Nash yelled, but the door slammed in his face without a response.