Chapter 3 #2
Vera rushed to the woman, crouched down and felt for a pulse.
Nothing. Jackie’s skin was still warm, but it didn’t take a medical examiner to recognize she had likely sustained a serious cervical fracture.
A broken neck. Probably one or both of the top vertebrae, which may have left her unable to breathe without assistance.
A bit of blood in her hair suggested a head injury that very well could have rendered her unconscious as well, ensuring no cry for help.
Vera glanced at her sister, who still hovered near the door. “What happened?”
Luna blinked repeatedly as if she’d just awakened from a deep sleep. “I don’t know.” She abruptly closed the door, evidently only then realizing it was still open. She stepped deeper into the entry hall but didn’t come close to where Vera and the dead woman were.
Cold, black fear funneled inside Vera as she pushed to her feet. Wait, wait, wait. Her sister’s “I don’t know” response could not be right. “How did this happen, Luna?”
Luna gave the vaguest shake of her head. “I don’t know. I found her this way when I came back from the hardware store.”
It wasn’t until then that Vera noticed the gallon of paint lying on its side on the floor. Thankfully the lid hadn’t popped off and spilled the contents all over the place.
“So you walked in and found her this way.” That was certainly a viable scenario. “Who did you call?”
More blinking from Luna. “You. I called you.”
Vera fought against a wave of dismay and an even broader expanse of fear. “I mean, did you call for help?”
Luna nodded, her head bobbing too fast. “Yes. I called you.”
Vera held on to her patience as she closed the distance between them. “I’m asking if you called 911.”
The blank expression on Luna’s face turned to confusion. “Why would I do that? She was dead.”
Well there was that. “Luna.” She took her sister by the arms once more and turned her so they faced each other with hardly more than a dozen inches between them. “Jackie is dead, yes. But you should have called someone.”
Another rapid set of eye blinks. “I did,” she said, her voice rising with frustration or desperation. Maybe a combination of both. “I called you.”
Vera drew in a steadying breath. At least one of them had to remain calm and to think logically. “Okay.” She ushered Luna into the living room and the nearest chair. “You stay right here, and I’ll call Bent.”
Luna opened her mouth, let it close, then opened it again. “Should I call Jerome?”
Vera almost choked on a bubble of sound that lodged in her throat but somehow managed to hold it back. “Let’s hold off for a minute. First I need to call Bent and then I’ll get an ambulance out here, okay?”
Luna’s face puckered into a frown. “Jerome will be so upset. He loves his mother.”
Concern building like a tsunami at her sister’s continued robotic reactions, Vera patted Luna’s arm. Shock, no doubt. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.”
She stepped back into the hall and studied the scene once more. Other than the dropped gallon of paint, all appeared tidy and organized. Luna’s home was always that way. She was almost obsessive about keeping things around her in perfect order and certainly always spotless.
Vera inspected Jackie’s body more closely. Tested her fingers for rigidity. Fingers were still soft and pliable. The facial muscles were as well. Without doubt she’d been dead less than two hours. No indication of rigor mortis.
Bracing, Vera made the call to Bent and headed to the kitchen as she waited for him to answer.
No need for Luna to overhear the mountain of anxiety that would unquestionably affect her voice.
Jackie’s purse sat on the counter next to the sink.
Her cell phone right next to it. Vera wished she had a pair of latex gloves, and she would check the call and text logs.
Since she did not and there were none under the sink, she ignored the impulse.
“Hey.” Bent’s voice finally came on the line. “I was just about to call you.”
Her situation couldn’t wait for an explanation of his. Vera spilled it. “I’m at Luna’s. Her mother-in-law, Jackie, has fallen down the stairs. I think her neck is broken.” Vera let go a big breath. “She’s dead, Bent.”
“EMS on the way?”
Vera bit her lip and told him the worst part in all this. “No. Luna didn’t call anyone else. Just me.”
The moment of silence that followed was no surprise and confirmed exactly how incredibly wrong her sister’s decision had been.
“Is Luna okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I think so. She’s maybe in shock. She says she went to the hardware store for paint, and when she came back she found Jackie this way.”
“And she called you instead of 911 or Jerome.”
“Yeah.” Vera hated the doubt in her voice. “She recognized Jackie was dead and thought calling me was the right thing to do.”
Bent hesitated a moment as if uncertain what to do.
“I’m at a crime scene, but I’ll make the call and have EMS head your way.
They’ll confirm the situation and have a look at Luna.
Keep her calm, and find out as much about what happened as possible before anyone else is involved. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Got it.” Vera hesitated, a frown needling across her brow. “What kind of crime scene?” The ramifications of what he’d just said suddenly filtered through the haze of worry and fear shrouding her brain.
“We’ve got three dead and one in serious condition out at Thomas Wilton’s cabin.”
“What happened?” Vera rubbed at her forehead with the back of her free hand as she wandered back into the entry hall.
Apparently this day was only going to get worse.
Three dead? Not the usual crime scene for Bent’s jurisdiction.
Certainly not at such a prestigious location.
Wilton was like a multibillionaire. Then again, rich people weren’t above murder.
They just didn’t generally take a hands-on approach.
“Don’t know anything for certain. That’s why I was about to call you.”
As horrible as a triple homicide sounded, Vera would gladly trade the scene she had walked in on with the one he was working. There was something to be said for impersonal homicide cases.
Her gaze settled on the dead woman at the bottom of the stairs.
Not that she was suggesting Jackie’s death was murder.
But there was no way to pretend it didn’t appear suspicious, given it happened in her new daughter-in-law’s home—the daughter-in-law she disliked and often openly criticized.
The one who didn’t call 911. The only other person in the house.
Maybe Vera had seen too many crime scenes and automatically jumped to the worst possible scenario, but she had a bad, bad feeling about this.