Chapter 4
A triage nurse told me Jürgen was being treated and was unable to take visitors at the moment. “Apparently, he overexerted himself. I’d probably have a heart attack too if I shot someone.”
We left the ER and returned to the station. I logged the pistol as evidence, then updated the sheriff on our conversation with Klaus.
“Stranger things have happened around here,” Daniels said. “I wouldn’t spend too much time on it. Perp’s in the hospital. He’ll be lucky to make it to trial.”
It was one of the easiest cases we’d had recently. Open and shut. But there was just something odd about it.
JD and I grabbed some coffee and chatted with Denise, catching her up on everything. She ran background on Jürgen and found a few interesting details.
Afterward, we headed across the island to the warehouse district for band practice. Wild Fury was scheduled to headline at Sonic Temple.
The usual band of miscreants loitered out front, smoking cloves and drinking beer as we pulled into the parking lot. We hopped out and greeted the long-haired rockers, and there were high fives all around.
JD and I stepped inside the dim hallway that always had a unique odor. The clash of music from several bands seeped through the walls.
Dizzy, Crash, and Styxx noodled on their instruments as we stepped into the practice space. A few cute girls hung out on the couch.
We caught up with the guys for a bit, then Jack grabbed the mic. The band ran through their set, thundering out their brand of party rock.
After an hour of ear-splitting goodness, Jack treated the guys to dinner at the Bluewater Bistro. Afterward, we hit Oyster Avenue and indulged in copious amounts of alcohol and poor judgment.
Brenda called bright and early the next morning.
I reached a sleepy hand for the phone on the nightstand and swiped the screen. In a scratchy voice, I said, “What’s up?”
"The old man's gun is a match."
"I guess that's pretty much the end of it," I replied.
"Not exactly. There's something really strange about this whole thing.
The victim has gold foil fillings. Extremely rare in this day and age.
He's got a chromium steel bridge, and I would expect to see that in a much older person. Not a man of 35 or 40.” She paused.
“There's something else. There are no hits on fingerprints in the database. "
"That's not surprising for a foreign national," I said. "There is such a thing as a law-abiding citizen."
"True, but the guy’s got no social media presence. No criminal record. You should look into that. I'm going to keep running tests.”
"Let me know what you find out," I said.
"Will do.”
“Send me digital files of his fingerprints.”
"You got it."
She ended the call, and I pulled myself out of bed.
I took a shower, toweled off, then got dressed.
I stumbled into the galley and started fixing breakfast. By that time, Brenda had sent me digital files of Rudolph Weiss's fingerprints.
I forwarded them to Isabella and asked her to look into him and Jürgen Stahl.
I hadn’t heard back from her yet. I figured she was busy. Not unusual. The woman was constantly doing something, putting out some kind of fire here or there.
Bacon sizzled in the pan, and the smell of fresh coffee swirled.
It wasn't long before Jack joined me in the galley.
We dished up plates of scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, and toast. On the sky deck, we enjoyed the morning sun as we chowed down.
I filled him in on Rudolph Weiss, and we kicked around a few theories.
After we ate, we headed over to the hospital to speak with Jürgen Stahl. When we got there, we found out he had been transferred to the NICU. Jürgen had suffered a mild stroke overnight.
I winced when I heard the news. It didn't bode well for getting an answer.
We stepped into his unit to see what condition he was in. It was safe to say that Jürgen wasn't a flight risk.
The peaks and valleys of his heartbeat blipped on the monitor beside the bed.
Blood pressure, oxygen saturation, and other vital statistics constantly updated on the display.
An IV dripped into his arm, and his chest was wired with electrodes to monitor his heart.
He looked frail and weak, and the greenish cast from the overhead fluorescents, along with that pale green hospital gown, wasn’t doing his complexion any favors.
He was asleep when we entered.
JD and I stood at the end of his bed, looking on with grim faces. I hated to see anybody in that condition, even if he was a murderer.
After a few minutes, Jürgen peeled open an eye.
I flashed my badge and made introductions. "We need to ask you a few questions.”
He stared at us and said nothing.
I wouldn't speak either.
Denise had run a full background check on the man. He had no criminal history. Not so much as a speeding ticket. Immigrated to the United States in the 1950s. Worked as an aerospace engineer for most of his life. Moved to the Keys about 25 years ago and has been retired down here ever since.
"Do you remember anything about yesterday?" I asked.
Jürgen said nothing.
"Can you tell me why you shot Rudolph Weiss?”
His face wrinkled, and anger tensed his jaw. He had a little facial droop, and his words slurred. "Rudolph Weiss?"
"That's the name of the man you shot behind the liquor store."
Jürgen scoffed and said something. It was hard to make out, but it sounded like Heissler.
"Can you say that again?”
He took a moment, and the words came slowly. It took all of his breath to say, “Von Markov must be stopped.”
My brow knitted. "Who’s Von Markov?”
"He's been mumbling stuff all morning," the nurse said. "Hasn’t been making much sense.” She touched his foot. "Can you tell me what day it is?”
Jürgen looked at her like she was crazy.
"Can you tell me what year it is?”
He thought for a moment, then slurred, "19… 62.”
The nurse looked at us. "See what I mean? I don't think you’re gonna get much out of him."
I couldn’t disagree.
"Why don’t you come back tomorrow? They're usually pretty disoriented for the first few days after a heart attack. Plus, he had a mild ischemic event last night. It seems like everything’s a little fuzzy for him right now.”
I had to admit, I was worried Jürgen might not be around in a few days.
"Just one more question," I said to the nurse, then asked Jürgen again, "Why did you kill Rudolph?”