“I was slightly delayed calling it in,” he said with a wink. He was referring to the medicolegal death investigator. “MDI is currently on his way here, though. There’s only the responding officer out in the hall so far and our two forensic friends here.”
Monroe turned to the two guys who had all the mannerisms—if not quite the looks—of their CSI counterparts on TV. They were standing next to some weird credenza made of driftwood, busy labeling samples they had already bagged. I assumed they were waiting for the okay to get started on the bodies. Among other things, they would collect sample DNA and make an official tally on all those bullet wounds.
Also, they’d be checking for signs of a struggle. Was the couple forced into their pose, as it were, or had the killer somehow managed to enter the room undetected? These were the things the investigator from the medical examiner’s office would be working to know as well. When he finally arrived, that was. By “slightly” delaying the report of death, Monroe had bought Elizabeth a few extra minutes, time that she very much wanted.
Monroe spun around back to the bodies on the bed. “So are they who you think they are?” he asked.
Elizabeth nodded, even though she’d never seen the couple before and didn’t know the first thing about them. Same for me.
But we both knew exactly who they were.
The two of hearts.
Chapter 33
“WHO FOUND them?” asked Elizabeth.
“Room-service kid,” said Monroe. “The door was propped open on the safety latch. He knocked repeatedly and ultimately came in.”
“Where’s the kid now?” she asked.
“Staff lounge, along with the cleaning lady who arrived after hearing him yell for help. I already took statements from them both. They didn’t see anyone or anything strange prior.”
“What did they order?” I asked.
“Huh? Oh, you mean the couple,” said Monroe. “I’ll have to check with room service. Why do you ask?”
“He thinks maybe it was the killer who placed the order,” said Elizabeth. She turned to me. “Right?”
“It’s a possibility,” I said. “The killer left the door open, didn’t he? He wanted the bodies discovered sooner rather than later.”
Elizabeth stepped closer to the bed, her eyes taking everything in. The couple, completely naked. The man propped up against the headboard, legs spread. The woman, lying on her stomach, her head between his legs.
And, lastly, the only reason Elizabeth and I were there in the first place.
“Whoever pulled the trigger,” said Monroe, “he sure as hell has a sick sense of humor.”
“Are you referring to the position they’re in or the position of that playing card?” asked Elizabeth.
“Both,” said Monroe. “Although who’s to say he actually choreographed them? It’s possible they somehow didn’t hear him come in.”
“Caught in the act, as it were,” said Elizabeth.
“Even more caught than that,” said Monroe.
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth pointed at the wedding rings, a huge diamond on the woman’s hand and a titanium band on the man’s. “They’re married, aren’t they?”
“Yeah,” said Monroe. “Just not to each other.”
He glanced at the small pad in his hand, reading off the names he’d written down, courtesy of their driver’s licenses. Rick Thorsen and Cynthia Chadd. Two different last names with different addresses and pictures of different kids in their wallets. This definitely wasn’t a married couple.
“That explains the blow job,” I said.
Monroe laughed. I clearly was beginning to develop a coping mechanism, too.
“That reminds me,” he said. “Our first officer on the scene wants to know how much detail he should put in the report.”
Elizabeth folded her arms. “You mean he wants to know if he should really write that the female victim was found with the penis of the male victim still in her mouth?”
“Well,” said Monroe. “When you put it like that…”
“Tell him he can limit the details,” she said.
Monroe nodded. “That’s what I thought. Besides, a picture’s worth a thousand words, right?”
“Yeah…about those pictures,” said Elizabeth, turning to the CSI duo by the credenza. “Can I see them?”
“Sure,” said the younger of the two. Much younger.
The older one, though, traded glances with Monroe. They both had been around the block pretty much the same number of times. The exchange happened quickly, but I caught it. So did Elizabeth.
“Sorry, Needham, I can’t do it,” said Monroe.
Can’t do what?
Chapter 34
ELIZABETH TILTED her head in disbelief. I couldn’t help thinking there was a little playacting involved.
“Are you serious?” she asked. “You can’t show me the photos?”
“You know what I mean,” said Monroe. “I can’t do what it is you want me to do.”
“Which is what, precisely?” she asked.
Monroe took a step toward her, his easy laugh suddenly a distant memory. “I didn’t ask you the question; I didn’t make you lie to me,” he said. “The only reason you’re here is because of that nine of diamonds wedged between that dead woman’s ass cheeks. We all know it, but I didn’t ask you to explain what it means. So don’t ask me to make that card disappear like some magic trick.”
“I would never do that,” said Elizabeth.
Except her heart wasn’t in it. Monroe had called her on the carpet, and instead of a full-throated defense of her integrity, the best she could offer up was some pallid denial. In that moment it was as if I were inside her head, hearing her say the very words to herself that she’d said to me earlier.
Stuck I’m okay with. Compromised is something else.
Monroe, satisfied, rested his hands across his protruding gut. But not before throwing her a lifeline.
“You’re right. My apologies, Needham. Of course you would never do that,” he said.
I’m not sure how long the room would’ve remained silent after that, but the sound of Monroe getting a text made sure none of us would ever know. He glanced at his cell.
“MDI just arrived,” he said.
Elizabeth nodded. In a minute or two, the investigator from the medical examiner’s office would be walking into the room. She didn’t want to be there when he did.
After a few steps toward the door, though, she stopped and returned to the side of the bed for one last look. She then took a picture, a close-up of the nine of diamonds.
Watching her, I could only think of the nickname Grimes had come up with at the diner. The Dealer.
This is all a game to you, isn’t it? A sick, perverted, and twisted game that’s only getting started. Are you really going to play every card in the deck? It’s what you want us to think, right?
I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of anything, not yet. Except for one thing.
The Dealer officially had the upper hand.
Chapter 35
“OKAY, I’VE got some bad news and some bad news,” said Elizabeth twenty minutes later down in the lobby. “Which one do you want first?”