Lawyer Trap

10





DAY TWO–SEPTEMBER 6

TUESDAY


The hand in the dirt turned out to be connected to a body, as Teffinger suspected; a woman’s body, to be precise. He watched as the Crime Unit unburied it scoop by scoop, careful to not overlook any foreign materials or evidence. The grave was shallow, not much more than six inches, just like Angela Pfeiffer’s. The state of decomposition of the two victims was also similar. The graves were no more than a hundred feet apart.

Finally, just like Angela Pfeiffer, this woman was naked.

But whereas Angela Pfeiffer had been stabbed repeatedly, there wasn’t a single mark on this woman.

“Whoever killed this one killed the other one,” Teffinger said. “They were obviously both buried the same night. That pretty much eliminates Davica as a suspect.”

“Unless this is another one of her past lovers,” Sydney added.

He smiled.

“Right, except for that,” he said.

“Or unless this is Angela’s new lover.”

“Right, that too.”

“Or unless this one was a witness.”

“Okay, that too.”

“Or unless this one is a decoy,” Sydney added.

He raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You know,” she said. “You kill the one you want, and then a stranger too, to make it look like someone else did it.”

Teffinger wasn’t persuaded.

“I’m sure there are situations where that’s happened,” he said. “But you’d have to be awfully cold-blooded. Davica doesn’t even come close to anything like that.”

“Yeah, well …”

“If I really stretch my imagination, I can maybe see her killing Angela,” Teffinger said, interrupting her. “I have to admit, I never put too much stock in the fact that she threatened the woman’s life. Those were nothing more than heat-of-passion words said during a fight. I say stuff like that two or three times a day but hardly ever actually kill anyone.”

Sydney kicked the dirt.

“I’d agree,” she said, “if there was nothing more. But we still have the repeated stabbing.”

Teffinger knew what she meant.

The stabbing was an act of passion.

The hallmark of someone close to the victim.

“It’s curious that this second woman was killed in a different manner,” he said. “It’ll be interesting to find out the cause of death. In any event, it sort of blows your decoy theory out of the water. If I was going to kill someone, and then a stranger too to make it look like someone else did it, I’d kill them both the same way.”

Sydney shrugged.

“Maybe,” she said. “But then again, maybe you do it different, so no one thinks it a decoy.”

Teffinger tilted his head.

“I’m never going to win an argument with you, am I?”

She put her arm around his shoulders.

“That doesn’t mean you should stop trying,” she said. Then she chuckled, as if she just heard a joke.

“What?” he asked, curious.

“You know you’re going to be getting calls by the end of the day.”

“About what?”

“From other police departments,” she said, “wanting you to come out with that divining rod of yours to help find where the bodies are buried.”

He laughed.

“Hopefully,” he said, “that was a once-in-a-lifetime deal.”

“You never know,” Sydney said. “You may have a gift. It would give you a chance to use that thing for good, instead of evil, for a change.”

He laughed.

“You’re too much.”

Ironically, he did have to use it again, plus he needed more coffee in the gut. So he told Sydney he’d be back in ten minutes and drove to the 7-Eleven on Broadway, almost getting run over by some idiot in a Hummer talking on a cell phone.

He used the facilities first.

Then found the coffee.

Of course he didn’t have a single one of his thermoses with him, because that would make his life too easy, so he bought yet another one, poured five French Vanilla creamers into it and then topped it off with piping hot caffeine. “Love Shack” played from hidden speakers.

On the way back to the scene, Sydney’s comment—that the second woman may have been a witness—nagged him.

That would explain the different causes of death.

Davica might be capable of that, if she felt trapped enough.