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“And Jenny? Did anyone here really knowher?”
“She was about ten years older than me, but I knew her. I can’t say I knew her all that well, but I was surprised.”
“Surprised? By what?”
“Well, the rumor is she was some sort of spy. You know, hiding things, poker face, pretending to be something she’s not. Well, with Jenny, she wore it all on her sleeve. I think she was the most open one of the bunch. So I don’t know how she made such a good spy.”
Devine offered to drive her to Earl Palmer’s house because the rain was still pouring down, and she accepted.
“You can just drop me off back here and I’ll take my scooter home,” Palmer told him.
A bit later he pulled up to Earl’s cottage and they ran through the rain up to the porch. She had a key and let them in. They searched the entire house but Earl wasn’t there.
“Do you think he went for a walk?” asked Devine.
She looked over at the front door. “His walking stick is against the wall. He never goes out without it.” She pointed to a peg on the wall. “And there’s his coat, and the reflective vest I bought him. He wouldn’t go out without those.”
“Where else could he be?” Devine looked out the window at the small studio. “Hey, I think I see a light from behind the curtains.”
“What? Really?” She sounded relieved. “He must be in there. Maybe he’s going through some of Bertie’s artwork. I told him it would help with the grieving process.”
They hurried out to the studio.
Palmer opened the unlocked door. “Gramps, it’s me. I’m so glad that you—”
She screamed.
Devine pushed past her, his gun out and making wide arcs in front of him.
But then he stopped and lowered his weapon as he stared up at a clearly deceased Earl Palmer hanging from one of the rafters.
CHAPTER
41
WHILE HARPER AND FUSS WENTabout their work with the aid of a crew of volunteer EMTs, and Françoise Guillaume readied her instruments for the preliminary processing of the body, Devine stared up at Palmer, still hanging there.
The image of Sara Ewes came back to him. He had dated her back in New York when he had worked for the investment firm of Cowl and Comely. She had been found hanging in one of the firm’s storage closets. The initial cause of death had been deemed suicide. It had soon turned to a verdict of murder.
What about you, Earl? Did you do this, or did someone else do it to you?
With everyone’s help they managed to release Earl Palmer from the noose and lowered the body, where it was initially examined by the two officers.
Next, a nitrile-gloved Harper stood on a ladder and cut down the rope that had been used, careful to keep the knots intact.
Devine edged over to where Guillaume was kneeling next to the body, which was lying on a synthetic tarp designed to capture all trace evidence. She used a digital thermometer to test the ambient air temp and then employed a rectal probe to check Palmer’s body core temperature.
“How long, Doc?” Devine asked.
“The ambient temp in here is thirty-seven degrees. He has warm clothes on, which would counteract the ambient some. The body loses roughly one point four degrees Fahrenheit of heat per hour after death up to twelve hours and about point seven per hour after that.” She looked at the rectal thermometer. “Based on all that, this reading indicates he died between one and three this morning.”
Devine looked at the ligature marks on Palmer’s neck. “Those look gravity-induced,” he said. “As opposed to straight-line, which would show strangulation.”
“You know about such matters?”
“I have a little experience with them, yes.”
She held Palmer’s large head in her gloved hands. “No obvious signs of bleeding or blunt force trauma.”
