Part 2 (1/2)
Dr. Ruiz pulled a long thermometer out of his bag and lifted Denny's s.h.i.+rt. Mason watched as he made a small cut below Denny's rib cage and slid in the silver sensor to take the temperature of his liver. ”I'll go online and check what the air temperature was here overnight,” the doctor said.
”It was forty-two when I found him two hours ago,” said Mason. ”When we got home last night just before one A.M., it was forty-six.”
The doctor slid out the sensor as he looked sideways at Mason.
”I look at the temperature almost as much as I check the time. I keep it on the front of my phone.”
Dr. Ruiz twisted his lips. ”I'll get the official weather records, but based on what you just said and his current temperature, he died shortly after you guys got back to the cabin last night.”
”Thank you, Doctor,” said a female voice behind them. Mason glanced back to see Detective Hawes listening carefully. She held out her hand to shake the medical examiner's. He slipped off his gloves and stood to take it. ”We knew the window of time was short since the men returned just before one this morning,” she continued. ”And Detective Callahan found him at six, but it's good to know at what end of the window it occurred.”
”I suspect the gash in the neck will be the cause of death, but don't quote me yet,” said Ruiz. ”The blow to the head was hard, but I imagine that came before the neck, and clearly he touched his neck while it was bleeding. I didn't find any bullet holes or other major injuries during my quick a.s.sessment, but I'll know more once I get him back to the center and get a solid look.” He glanced at the ground near Denny's head. ”I think he bled out right here. Did you find blood anywhere else?”
”No,” said Detective Hawes. ”No traces anywhere yet.” She turned her direct green gaze on Mason and said nothing.
He felt as if he had a target on his forehead. Defensiveness swelled in his gut and he bit his tongue. He didn't need to prove to her he wasn't involved.
Yet.
”I'd like to debrief you now, Detective,” Hawes stated. ”How about we chat in my vehicle?”
In the front seat of her Ford Explorer, Mason blew on the cup of coffee that Detective Hawes had handed him. Someone had made a coffee run into Depoe Bay and managed to return with a big cardboard carafe of surprisingly good coffee and a stack of paper cups. Mason wanted to ask where they'd found it.
Not that he ever planned to return to Depoe Bay. The quaint little fis.h.i.+ng town had lost its already thin appeal.
He'd met Detective Hawes the first day she transferred to Portland from Salem's Major Crimes. She'd been partnered with Henry Becker, but their desks were on a different floor since the primary detectives' room couldn't fit another desk. The separate floors had made for a slow get-to-know-you period. He'd been out of the office most of her second week on the job, but so far the feedback from the other guys was good. Everyone had commented that she looked like a young Helen Mirren.
Nora Hawes set her coffee in the cup holder and picked up a notepad. He watched her write his name on the first line and felt a drop of sweat run down his lower back.
Christ.
Self-directed anger swamped him. He wasn't an eighth grader who'd been caught breaking school windows; he was a cop whose close friend had been murdered. Detective Hawes hadn't said a word otherwise. She'd been polite and professional. His mind was circling the drain of guilt simply because he was now on the vulnerable side of the interview. He didn't like his position one bit.
”How long did you work with Denny?” Hawes asked.
”Almost ten years.”
”You worked with him before he was promoted?”
”Yes. We even partnered for a short while.”
”How was that?”
Mason kept his tone light, when he really ached to glare and snap at her. ”Good. I'd want him backing me on a call.” Hawes nodded at his statement. There were no stronger words to validate another officer.
”What was your first thought when you found him?”
The memory was fresh. ”I wondered if the killer was still there. My next concern was for the guys in the cabin.”
”They said you scared them to death when you woke them up by pounding on their doors.”
”I didn't know what I'd find inside.”
”Was the front door unlocked when you went outside this morning?”
Mason nodded. ”It was. Surprised me. A cop will lock his doors even in the middle of nowhere.”
”The evidence team hasn't found Denny's cell phone yet,” Hawes said.
”We noticed it wasn't on him this morning.”
”I have a request in to his cellular carrier for the last activity on his phone. They say this is the last location they have for the whereabouts of the phone.”
”Someone took it,” Mason stated the obvious. ”And removed the battery or turned it off. It's probably at the bottom of the ocean by now.”
”I agree. So far someone has covered their tracks. We haven't found anything that indicates how they arrived at the cabin or how they left. There's no soft dirt with tire tracks.” Frustration furrowed her forehead for a brief second. ”What can you tell me about the argument in the bar last night?”
”The five of us were at a table in Pete's Bar. We'd ordered a couple pitchers of beer but they hadn't come yet. No one had drunk anything at that point,” he added, meeting her gaze. ”Three guys came in and one of them spotted Denny. He came over to the table and started mouthing off about a dent he claimed Denny had put in his truck on a previous visit. Denny denied that'd he'd done it, but the guy was getting p.i.s.sed and his friend looked ready to start throwing some punches.”
”Could you recognize them?”
Mason closed his eyes, clearly visualizing the three men in their twenties. All wore caps, heavy boots, and thick jackets. Facial scruff. One was a dirty blond and the other two had dark hair. ”Absolutely.”
”What happened next?”
”Everyone at the table had stood as the argument heated. I stepped between Denny and the main guy and told him I'd buy him and his friends a pitcher of beer if they'd leave us alone for the evening and take it up the next day. They backed off, and I gave the bartender twenty bucks to keep them supplied for a while.”
”Pretty lame that a twenty quieted them down.”
”I thought so,” said Mason. ”Made me think he didn't believe it'd been Denny who'd done it but felt the need to spout off about it when he spotted him.”
”How often did Denny visit his cabin? Did the locals know him?”
Mason shrugged. ”Dunno. In the office it seemed like he went to the coast pretty frequently. The bartender greeted him by name last night. I'd say people who live here know him.”
”Did Denny dent his accuser's truck?” Her straightforward manner had relaxed him a bit.
She's looking for answers. Doing her job. It was an att.i.tude he understood.
”He told us he hadn't. He'd parked next to the guy's truck when he was in town last month. That day the guy had blown up when he spotted the dent and immediately turned on Denny. Denny told him then that he hadn't done it but could tell the guy didn't believe him.”
”Were the three men drunk last night?”
”I could smell beer on the one I spoke to, but I wouldn't call them drunk. They'd had enough to be c.o.c.ky a.s.sholes.”
”Sometimes reaching that level doesn't take much,” Hawes agreed. She wrote on her notepad and the vehicle grew silent.