“Coroner’s going to have to dig it out.”
But I can’t stop looking at the small foreign object. Deep inside, I already know what it is, and the knowledge is so disturbing, I have to withhold a gasp. “I think it’s a wooden figurine,” I whisper.
He gives me a sharp look. “Come again?”
“An Amish peg doll.” Quickly, I fill him in on the Michaels homicide. “We didn’t release that information to the public.”
A siren wails in the distance, but neither of us acknowledges it.
“BCI on the way?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
He whistles. “Two major crime scenes in a single week. They’re going to start a running tab for you.”
Despite the grimness of the scene, I smile, and I’m glad there are no civilians around to notice. Cop humor is one of those things that can easily be misinterpreted and blown out of proportion, usually by someone who doesn’t understand that sometimes the only way to combat despair is through humor, even when it’s dark.
Concerned now with contaminating the scene, we carefully exit the bathroom and walk into the living room. The flash of emergency lights through the window draws my attention. I look over to see an ambulance pull into the driveway, followed by a fire truck that parks curbside. I see Glock on the front porch and motion him in.
“Anyone find a point of entry?” Maloney asks.
“Kitchen window is open,” Glock tells him. “Screen was cut and removed.”
“What about the lights?” Maloney asks.
“We’ll need to check the breaker box,” I say.
I brief both men on everything I know about the scene. “I’m pretty sure the foreign object in the wound is similar to the peg doll we found in Michaels’s mouth.”
“So this isn’t random,” Glock says.
I nod. “When Skid and I talked to her, she said Michaels had been in touch with her about a painting he wanted to buy.” I think about that a moment. “Skid and I both noticed she seemed nervous about her security. Bolt lock on the door. Security chain.” I shine my beam at the end table where I’d seen the Beretta earlier, but it’s gone. “She had a nine mil on the bottom shelf of that end table.”
“Guess she couldn’t get to it in time,” Glock says.
“We need to find it,” I add.
“Do you think Blue Branson or Jerrold McCullough are involved?” Maloney asks.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “But I think they know more than they’re letting on.” I consider that a moment and repeat Rutledge’s dying words. “I think she said something like: ‘We didn’t mean to kill her.’”
Maloney cuts me a sharp look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I shrug. “When I asked her who did that to her, I’m pretty sure she said ‘ghost.’”
The words hang suspended, as if no one knows how to respond.
I break the silence with, “The peg doll we found in Dale Michaels’s mouth was made by Willis Hochstetler.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Glock says. “Willis Hochstetler has been dead for over thirty years.”
“But it’s a link,” Maloney says.
“Something had Julie Rutledge running scared,” I tell them.
Maloney laughs. “Fucking ghosts.”
I look from man to man. “Did either of you happen to run across any keys here at the scene?”
“There’s a ring of keys on the kitchen counter,” Glock tells me.
I go to the kitchen, pick up the keys, and go back to the living room, where Glock is standing. “Will you keep the scene secure until the CSU arrives?”
“No problem.”
“Get photos of everything. A sketch if you can manage. And see if you can pick up some prints or footwear tread. Plenty of blood in that bathroom.”
“Sure thing, Chief,” he says. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to take a look around Rutledge’s gallery.”
CHAPTER 14
The horizon is awash with Easter egg hues of lavender and orange when I park in front of the small boutique art gallery Jules Rutledge had owned and operated. It’s not yet 8 A.M., and around me, Painters Mill is opening for business. The lights are on in the bakery across the street, and the aroma of fresh-baked apple fritters rides the breeze. At the end of the block, I see Steve Ressler, the publisher of the Weekly Advocate newspaper, hightail it toward the front doors of his offices, a newspaper tented over his head in an attempt to stay dry.