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“He was killed late last night or early in the morning, say between eleven P.M. and three A.M. Death would have been instantaneous.”
“Any sign of a struggle? Anything under the nails?”
“Just dirt. No injuries, except the shotgun—that was enough.”
“Anything else I should know?”
“Not much. He had an alcohol level of point two two, which would not have been unusual for Hank. He had a liver the size of a watermelon, and as hard as marble, which doesn’t come as a surprise. He’d have been dead in a few months anyway from cirrhosis.”
“Thanks, Doctor.” Holly hung up. “Nothing of use from the autopsy. Jane, do you know Hank’s cleaning lady?”
“Sure, she worked for the chief, too.”
“Would you give her a call and break the news to her, then ask her to go over to Hank’s house and clean up his office? I wouldn’t want his daughter to see it as it is.”
“Of course.”
Holly stood up. “I’m off. Tell the front desk to call me if anything comes in on either shooting.”
Holly stopped by the manager’s office on her way in and introduced Daisy to Jerry Malone. “All right if I have a dog here tonight?”
“Sure, I’ve got no problem with pets,” Malone said. “Lots of my people have them.”
Holly waved good night and drove to her trailer. Daisy hopped out and showed some interest in the area, sniffing at bushes and at the river. Holly got the dog food she had brought from Hank’s and set out a dish and some water for her. Grief had not hurt the dog’s appetite. The phone rang.
“Oh, God,” Holly said aloud. She’d hoped she could get through the night without a call, in spite of her instructions to the front desk. She sat down on the bed and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hiya, kiddo,” her father said.
“Hello, Ham,” Holly replied.
“So how was your first day?” he asked.
“Oh,
Jesus, Ham, you’re not going to believe it. Are you sitting down?”
“Yep.”
“Both Chet Marley and Hank Doherty were shot last night, probably by the same person. Chet’s in a coma, and Hank is dead.”
There was a long silence at the other end of the phone. “Do you know who did it?” Ham asked finally.
“No, not yet. Don’t know why, either.”
“Tell me everything.”
Holly launched into a detailed description of both crimes, finishing up with Hank’s autopsy report. “And that’s all I know,” she said.
“What about this detective, Hurst? He any good?”
“I think he’s all right, maybe a little short on imagination. Of course, he’s got a new boss breathing down his neck, too, and he may be reacting to the pressure, holding back a little to avoid making a mistake.”
“You think these shootings have anything to do with what Chet talked about at dinner last month?”
“I think it has everything to do with it, but as far as I know, he didn’t discuss it with anybody. When I talked to him last night, he said he’d brief me this morning, tell me everything. He was going to meet somebody, and that may have been the shooter.”
“I wish I could help in some way,” Ham said. “Those guys were my friends.”
