Don't Scream Part 28

Quincy would bet it was the antique pineapple-shaped cast iron doorstop that props open the swinging door to the kitchen.

At a glance, theres no blood on it, but hes pretty sure forensic tests will reveal traces there.

What makes you say that? asks Detective Deb Jackson, new on the job, as young and as blonde as the victim herselfbut far less privileged.

Then again, who isnt? The Harringtons are worth tens of millionsa possible motive for the crime?

For one thing, Quincy tells Deb, rubbing his close-cropped, gray-flecked black beard, that doorstop just looks as though its out of place. It seems like it should be closer to the hinge, and maybe pus.h.i.+ng the door up against the wall.

Right now, the door is caught a few feet out, in midswing, at an angle. In a house this meticulously kept, that feels wrong; a potential red flag to a seasoned detective.

To a newbie like Deb, not so much.

Its partly my own gut instinct, Quincy tells her with a shrug. I could be wrong. I bet Im not, though.

But how do you He cuts her off with a brusque, Youll learn. Takes awhile.

He turns his attention back to the macabre scene.

Uniformed investigatorscops, forensics, the medical examinerbustle around him, snapping pictures, dusting for prints, filling out paperwork.

The table is set for five, with paper party plates and cups, and pink plastic cutlery. In the center of the table is an untouched rectangular cake. Pink wax candles have melted into white frosting and pale pink icing that reads Happy Birthday. In darker icing, which isnt icing at all, are the words DEAR TILDY.

Blood, Quincy declares, noting the letters dark, congealed, maroon appearance.

Hers?

Probably. We wont know until we test it.

Deb nods. To her credit, she doesnt look the least bit squeamish. Good. This is one h.e.l.l of a career kickoff case. If she can handle this, she can handle anything.

Shes a pretty little thing, the type of woman youd expect to be more at home wearing a pageant banner than a police badge. At least, Quincy wouldbased solely on looks and first impressions.

But so far, shes proven him wrong. Shes gutsy, and smart, and he almost wishes she had come along sooner, for both their sakes. Not just because shes infinitely more charming than that brute Don Kopacynski, his last rookie partner, but because she has a lot to learnfrom Quincy. And with three months to go until retirement, hes not exactly in a patient, pa.s.sionate-about-his-work phase of life.

No, Im more in theGet Me the h.e.l.l Out of Herephase, he thinks wryly. But hes not s.h.i.+rking. h.e.l.l work this case the way hes worked every other homicide, with dogged determination to get the killer off the street.

Deb points at the box clutched in the bodys outstretched hands that rest on the table, helping to prop her upright. What do you think that is?

Quincy notes the pink wrapping paper and coordinating bow.

Its anyones guess, he replies. But Id be willing to bet its not something youd want as a gift onyour birthday.

Deb barely cracks a smile. Id be willing to bet youre right. Too bad we wont know for awhile, she adds, well aware that they cant touch the evidence until the initial investigation is complete, and forensics and the medical examiner have done their thing.

Time now to speak to the lone witness.

Hey, McGraw, wheres the housekeeper who found the body? he asks one of the uniformed officers.

Connelly took her out back to get some air. She kept fainting.

Lets go, Quincy tells Deb.

As they make their way through the kitchen, he notes the stark, elegant, monochromatic decor.

I bet that fancy stove hood costs more than you and I put together make in a month, he comments to Deb.

Yeah, but Ill take my cozy little apartment over this place any day. Theres no warmth or personality here. This kitchen looks like a magazine picture.

Shes right.

And the dining room looks like a horror show.

The staged scene suggests a serial killer, but Quincy doubts the victim was chosen randomly.

It really is her birthday.

The initial attack probably took place in the blood-spattered hallway opening into the dining room.

The blow to her head would have left her if not dead, then at least unconscious and very close to it. Her hands and arms are free of any self-defensive wounds that would indicate she fought back.

But the killer didnt stop there.

The blood smears on the polished hardwood and area rug mark the trail where the mortally wounded woman was dragged to the table.

There, her face was brutally hacked with some sort of cleaver or ax, obliterating any recognizable features.

A cla.s.sic case of overkill.

And it, combined with the birthday timing, suggests one thing to a seasoned homicide detective like Quincy Hiles: In all probability, whoever murdered Matilda Harrington knew herand hated her.

A squad car is parked out front of Brynns house on Tamarack Lane when she arrives home after dropping both Caleb and Ashley at their respective schools.

Both children seemed initially unsettled about the dead bird on the kitchen counter, while little Jeremy was oblivious, of course.

A shaken Brynn and Garth pa.s.sed it off as a freak accident.

It must have gotten into the house somehow, Garth told them, and it was flying around and it crashed into the cupboards and died.

But theres so much blood, Caleb said.

Yes. And it didnt come from the bird.

But Brynn wasnt about to tell him that. Instead she said, Remember how much Jeremys forehead bled when he knocked it on the corner of the coffee table that time?

That seemed to appease Caleb.

Ashley said very little about the dead bird. She didnt even scream when she saw it, just stopped short in the doorway and stared.

She did ask, Are you going to just leave it there?

For now, Garth told her somewhat tersely, and she dropped the subject.

They were planning to call the police as soon as the kids were safely out of the house. Brynn broke a school-day rule and served them cereal in the living room, in front of the television. She was relieved when it was time to hustle them out the door.

Call now, she whispered urgently to Garth, who was on the phone, still trying to arrange for someone else to cover his morning lecture.

He just scowled.

He must have called right away, though, because Brynn has been gone only about fifteen minutes.

Clearly, the Cedar Crest force didnt send out their most hardened detective to solve this particular case.

The lone officerprobably a rookieis blond, handsome and clean-shavenif hes old enough to shave, Brynn thinks, as wryly as she can under the circ.u.mstances.

She finds him standing in the kitchen with Garth, surveying the heap of red feathers and darkened, congealed blood. Jeremy is back in his booster seat, an array of dry Cheerios scattered before him and on the floor.

This is my wife, Brynn, Garth informs the young cop as she comes into the room. Brynn, this is Officer Demuth.

They shake hands. Hers, she knows, is ice cold, and not just because of the raw, damp autumn chill outdoors.

With Caleb and Ashley gone, shes free at last to express the anxiety shes kept bottled up all morning, threatening to explode at any given moment.

First the sleepless night, then the explosive argument with Garth, then the dead cardinal A cardinal. It cant be a coincidence can it?

No.

Especially not today.

Her eyes go to the homemade construction-paper calendar on the wall. Today is Tildys thirtieth birthday. Brynn realized it first thing this morning and planned, in the back of her mind, to give her a call.

Now she definitely will and not just to say Happy Birthday.

I was telling your husband that birds do find their way into homes, Mrs. Saddler, Officer Demuth says, but I just want you to know this was no accident, she cuts in, turning away from the calendar. Her stomach lurches as her gaze falls on the sickening site on the counter, and she swallows hard. Somebody broke into the house sometime in the night and left that here.

Brynn, thats obvious, Garth speaks up before Demuth can respond. Thats what he was about to say. Why dont you just let him do the talking?

All right, so she stated the obvious. Still, Garth doesnt have to make her look like a blabbering fool. Embarra.s.sed, she flashes a scowl at her husband.

Demuth says, Again, birds do get into homes, but it looks like this one has a broken neck not an injury that would bleed. Anyway, I think were all aware that the amount of blood makes it obvious that someone planted this here, correct? And that the blood didnt come from the bird?

Brynn nods.

Mrs. Saddler, you were home here all night, correct?

She nods again, wondering if Garth has already mentioned thathe wasnt.

Did you see or hear anything unusual?

She thinks back to her restless hours on the couch. She thought she heard something a few times, but she figured that was just Garth coming home.

Now, she s.h.i.+vers at the thought that someone could have been prowling around the next room as she lay on the couch.

Oh, G.o.d. She folds her arms and tucks her fists into her armpits, and sinks into a chair, shoulders hunched with tension.

Mrs. Saddler?

I dont know, she murmurs to Demuth. I mean, I didnt hear anythingunusual, really. But I could have heard someone I just dont know.

Do either of you have any idea who might have played a prank like this? Do you think it could have been one of your students, Dr. Saddler?

It could have been, he says doubtfully.

Is there anyone you can think of whos shown any kind of animosity lately? Maybe over a bad grade?

Garth shakes his head.

Have either of you had run-ins with any neighbors? Teenagers, especially?

Only with Mr. Chase next door, Garth says. But hes always cranky and hes no teenager.

What was the problem?

He said somebody plucked the blooms off of his mums, and he thought it was one of our boys.

He was upset about it?

He gets upset about everything, and he accuses everyone on the block, Brynn puts in. Nothing unusual.

So, other than that, neither of you can think of anything that might have triggered someone to do something like this?

Brynn can.

Her head is spinning.

Of course she never told Garth about the birthday card.

Does she dare mention it now?

No. No, you cant!

Doing so would open the door to questions about Rachel Lorent, whose unsolved, decade-old missing persons case was handled by the Cedar Crest police.

If she doesnt bring that up, though, the cops will have no way of knowing that this is no harmless neighborhood prank.

There isnt a doubt in Brynns mind: that bird wasnt chosen randomly.

No, there is sinister symbolism in the cardinalthe Zeta Delta Kappa mascotand the blood.