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“I think she’s scrubbing now,” the nurse said. “I can take you down there.”
Weather was standing over the scrub sink with another doc, working on her fingernails, turned and saw him coming.
“You had a look yet?” he asked.
“Yes. Two cuts. They’re deep, but clean. I’m told they were madeby the edge of a broken water glass. I didn’t see any debris. We really haven’t done any exploration yet.”
“She’s an actress, or was...”
“So you said. If she’s patient with the healing, she won’t have any scars that can’t be hidden by a dab of makeup. The docs here took some pictures, she says she’s got a headache but they didn’t see any neck or skull problems, no whiplash, no displacement in her spine. You can probably see her in the morning.”
“Be careful with her...” Weather rolled her eyes, and Lucas said, “Okay, okay. I’ll go away now.”
“Do that.”
Back in the car, Virgil said, “This has officially gotten weird. Still want to do the stakeout?”
“Sure. I don’t think this will make TV until the ten o’clock or tomorrow... so how’s the killer going to know?”
Durey called: “Don’t bother to come back. We’re down to picking up hair on the staircase.”
“What?”
“The doc down at the Mayo says the impact wound on Hinton was caused by a scuffing blow to his forehead that could have been caused by a fall. Since Heath’s wife fell down the stairs...”
“All right. Good luck with the hair,” Lucas said. He rang off and said to Virgil, “Why don’t we pick up something to eat and head over to Martha Muller’s?”
—
With sundown comingshortly after six o’clock in the evening, they rolled down Muller’s driveway at six, went through the back door, put a couple of chicken wraps from Whole Foods inthe refrigerator, along with Diet Cokes for Lucas and cans of coffee for Virgil.
Virgil poured one of the cans into an oversized cup and Muller ran it through the microwave. That done, they all went upstairs to a darkened room with a window overlooking the street.
“Best stakeout ever,” Virgil said. They moved chairs to a spot where they could all see the front of Cooper’s house, and down the street that curved around from hers. They couldn’t see anyone coming in from the other side, but from that side, a stalker would have to go through five backyards, and from their side, he’d only have to go through one before he got to Cooper’s. And if he came up the bluff, they’d have a front-row seat.
They told Muller what had happened with Cooper, and she was astonished. She got on her phone, made a call, and asked whoever she called what had happened at the University Club.
She listened for a while, asked a couple of questions, hung up and said, “They say Heath’s been crying like a baby. Said he essentially admitted everything to the responders, but said she deliberately provoked him by accusing him of being a murderer, in front of his friends. He called a lawyer, but the man I spoke to doesn’t know if the lawyer has shown up yet.”
Daisy Jones called Virgil.
“No comment, Daisy. That’s the best I can do,” Virgil said, without bothering to say hello.
“You can’t ‘no comment’ me,” Jones said. “Not after you blew me off this morning. Margaret Cooper told the Heart/Twin Cities board this afternoon that you believe Noah Heath killed Bob Dahl and Doreen Pollard, and that’s what touched him off.”
“What? What the hell are you talking about?” Virgil asked.
“You’re a cop and you don’t know? Noah Heath tried to strangle Margaret Cooper at a Heart/Twin Cities board meeting at the University Club, and she’s at Regions with a concussion and I guess, you know, whatever happens when you’re almost strangled. And her face got cut up bad.”
“Really? Holy shit. When’s this going up?” Virgil asked.
“Ten o’clock.”
“That’s really something, Daisy. I’ve got no comment until I find out what’s going on. Thanks for letting us know.” He punched her off and ignored her call-back.
Lucas: “Somebody called her. She’s always had good contacts in St. Paul.”
—
