4 The Marathon Murders (14 page)

When I arrived at the
Rottman
mansion, I found a lone red Jaguar sitting in the parking area in front. I
remembered seeing it Thursday when I escorted Camilla to our office door. Other
cars could be garaged at the rear of the house, of course. And there was always
the possibility of servants around. It sounded plausible, but I suspected no
one would be here but the queen of the realm.

I had left my jacket and tie at
home, changing into a short-sleeve white shirt. I walked to the door, rang the
bell and waited. After a minute or so, I rang again. I was about to turn around
and leave when the door swung open just enough to highlight Camilla with her
customary smile, dressed in a short, luxurious terry cloth robe open to reveal
a two-piece yellow bathing suit. If it wasn’t a bikini, it was the first cousin
to one. Her legs glowed bronze in the sunlight. She wore yellow flip-flops that
matched the swim suit. I tried not to concentrate on the rest of her.

“Oh, hello, Greg.
You’re a little early. Sorry to take so long, but I was out in the pool. We
have a bell back there that alerts us when someone arrives or I might have
missed you.” She opened the door wide and beckoned me to enter.

The story sounded reasonable, and
she appeared sober. I stepped inside, nodding my head in the direction I had
come. “I hope the water was cooler than the air out there.”

“It’s heating up. Sometimes I think
we should float cakes of ice in the pool.”

She walked toward the drawing room,
her tanned legs glistening where she hadn’t dried off. “We could sit out by the
pool, but it’s a lot cooler in here.”

Under the circumstances, I wasn’t
too sure about that.

It looked like a different room
from last night, except for the bar. The tables and folding chairs were gone.
Sofas and plush chairs had been arranged in cozy groups, including one that
faced the fireplace. Camilla headed for it. She pulled off the robe, folded it
and placed it on the sofa.

“The suit isn’t dry yet, so I’d
better sit this way.” She dropped carefully onto the robe. She patted the
cushion beside her. “Sit over here where we can talk.”

I took the other end of the sofa.
“Jill and I enjoyed the party last night, Camilla. Thanks for inviting us.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I just love
parties.” With a sudden swing of her legs, she jumped up, kicking off the
flip-flops. “And I’m being a terrible hostess. Let’s see, you like Scotch and
soda.” She headed for the bar.

“Just a Sprite for me,” I said.
“Maybe it’s a holdover from the military, but I never drink while on duty.”

Her brow furrowed. “This is duty?”

I laughed. “I guess I should say
while I’m at work. Detecting is my job, Camilla.”

She brought two glasses over and
handed one to me. I was sure hers didn’t contain anything
so
plebeian as Sprite. Then she plopped down right beside me on the sofa.

I gave her one of my
what-the-hell-are-you-doing looks and said, “What about the wet swim suit?”

She giggled. “If the sofa gets wet,
I’ll buy a new one. Now, where were we?”

I set my glass on the small end
table and folded my arms as her hip pressed against mine. I felt my face
turning warm and sweat beginning to dampen my shirt. “I think I was about to
ask what kind of detecting it was you wanted me to do.”

She turned up her glass to take a
swallow and spilled some of the drink down her chest.
“
Oooo
!
That’s cold.” She reached a thumb down to pull
out the halter and almost dislodged a tanned breast that had obviously been
bared out in the sun.

I hadn’t seen a show like this
since I took in a New Orleans strip joint with some OSI buddies fifteen years
ago. Talk about provocation. I knew better. I should never have agreed to come
out here.

“Camilla,” I said, “I’m not sure
what you have in mind, but I’m pretty damned sure my wife wouldn’t approve of
it.”

“Oh, Greg.
I’m sorry.” She feigned an innocent look. “Am I embarrassing you? All I had in
mind was to enjoy the company of a fascinating man . . . while on duty. I was
quite impressed by you last night. I thought it would be helpful to get a
little better acquainted before we talk about the detecting task I have for
you.”

I had stared down some tough felons
during my law enforcement career, and I thought I had encountered just about
every variety of calculating female known to man. But I realized now I was
playing in a totally new ballgame. The old rules no longer applied. With
Camilla
Rottman
, I was playing out of my league.

I glanced at her shapely torso and
at the sensuous lips turned up in a puckish grin. I noted that Lady Camilla, up
close with the makeup washed away, showed lines in her face that said she was
not the spring chicken she sought to portray. She’d had plenty of years to
polish her act to a fine point. Bottom line, considering that copper-colored
skin and the sensuous way she moved, I suspected she could be as dangerous as
the copperhead snakes that writhed about our backwoods.

“You want to get a little better
acquainted? Here’s my pedigree,” I said. “I’m the son of a master brewer with
Anheuser-Busch in St. Louis. My mother was a high school English teacher. When
I joined the Air Force, I was pursuing a military career like my Scottish
ancestors had followed since the seventeen hundreds.”

Camilla’s eyes glowed.
“How intriguing.”

“Maybe.
But no generals.
My grandfather, Staff Sergeant Alexander
McKenzie, fought in the Boer War and in World War I with the First Battalion,
Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders Regiment. He was forced to retire after
complications from wounds he received in France. He immigrated to America when
my dad was a teenager.”

“I’ll bet he was highly decorated.”

I shrugged. “He had some medals. I
found them in a drawer after my dad died. My dad, incidentally, was an Army
cook in World War II.
Now, what about you?”

She had almost finished her drink.
She pulled one leg up, tucked it under her and turned to face me. “I told you
last night about my great-grandfather, Samuel Hedrick, who started the company
during World War I to provide medical supplies to the Army.
And
my grandfather, Randall, the Flying Tiger.
My father, Stone Hedrick,
built HI into what it is today. They say I take after him more than my mother,
a quiet woman who preferred to avoid the limelight.”

“I’d have to say I don’t exactly
picture you that way.” I had begun to feel self-conscious sitting with my arms
folded. I shifted around, laying an arm on the back of the sofa.

She took the last swallow of her
drink and grinned. “You’re right. Nobody has ever accused me of being shy or
retiring. After high school, I went to Vassar. It was strictly a girl’s school
back then. I studied in France and came back home to Nashville in the early
seventies. Roger was a young engineer with HI when we met. I suppose I’m the
antithesis of my husband. He’s a whiz with facts and numbers, but he has a problem
with the hard decisions. As a member of the board, I have to keep him in line.
Anyway, after marriage I got involved with the symphony, the Junior League,
that sort of thing. And here I am.” She got up and looked toward my glass.
“Wouldn’t you like something more stimulating than Sprite?”

I shook my head. “I don’t believe I
could take any more stimulation than you.”

She let out a burst of laughter,
leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.
“You darling man.
What a compliment.”

I checked my watch as she busied
herself at the bar.
Nearly four-thirty.
I needed to
get out of here and head for Warren’s motel.

“Where’s Roger today?” I asked as
she came back with her drink.

Her lip curled for a moment. When
her face softened into its usual smile, her voice had cooled. “Roger takes off
occasionally with one of his old Vanderbilt cronies. They’re supposedly fishing
at a lodge up on Center Hill Lake.”

I realized I had asked the wrong
question when she slid up against me, closer than ever. Despite all the
bravado, she appeared to be suffering from the neglected spouse syndrome. I
shifted to my businesslike voice.

“I appreciate the hospitality,
Camilla, but I have an appointment with another client shortly. How about
clueing me in on this detecting job you have in mind?”

Her expression turned serious.
“This is highly confidential, Greg. It must go no further than you.”

“We never reveal a client’s
identity and only discuss aspects of a case necessary to the investigation.”

“Very well.
What I want you to do is find out who Roger is sleeping with. It must be done—”

I held up my hands to stop her. “We
don’t handle domestic relations cases. Sorry, but that’s something Jill and I
decided from the start.”

She stiffened, eyes blazing. “You
refuse to help me?”

“Camilla, I work as an investigator
because it’s what I’m good at and something I love to do. I take cases where I
can feel good about the results I achieve, where it’s obvious an injustice has
been done and I might be able to right the wrong. I don’t feel good about
taking sides between a husband and a wife.”

Her chest rose and fell with rapid
breaths. “That’s a flimsy pretext, a plain old cop-out.”

“Call it whatever you will. It’s a
firm policy from which McKenzie Investigations does not deviate.” I got up from
the sofa. “I’m sorry if you’re having problems, Camilla, but no, I can’t help
you.”

She didn’t move, but her face
turned crimson. “You’re going to regret this, Colonel McKenzie.”

I was already regretting it, but
not for the possibility of something she might do. “I’ll show myself out,
Camilla. Good-bye.”

I turned and strode quickly to the
front door. I left without looking back.

Until he opened the door for me, Jarvis had been sitting in
front of the TV where a baseball game was in progress. The muted sound left
only the rumble of the air conditioner to make the room resemble something
other than a hollow shell. Warren gave me a vacant, out-to-lunch look at first,
then
he shook his head.

“I still haven’t heard a word, Greg.
Come on in.”

I knew my own expression wasn’t
much of an improvement over his. “Everybody’s got troubles,” I said.

“What’s happened to you?”

I sat in the room’s other chair and
told him about my visit with Camilla.

He shook his head. “Jesus. She must
be some piece of work.”

“Well put. But now I’ve got to go
confess to Jill.”

“You think that’s necessary?”

“I do. I’ve always been up front
with her, and I don’t intend to change at this late date.”

“Sometimes, some things are better
left unsaid. I don’t feel any compulsion to relate all of my past female
encounters to Kelli.”

“That’s a bit different. You aren’t
married and haven’t been living with her for the better part of forty years.”

He clicked off the TV. “You’ve got
a point there. Still, I’m not sure confession is always good for the soul. It
could undermine the underpinning of a relationship.”

“That’s a chance I’ll have to take,
Warren.”

He gave me an I-surrender look.
“You’re a determined man. Have you come up with any new ideas from your trip to
Hartsville?”

I told him about our adventures at
the funeral, about Jill’s visit with Mickey Evans, and my trip to the Battle of
Hartsville area.

“I once studied a couple of Civil
War campaigns,” Warren said.
“Interesting stuff from a
military standpoint, but not a lot of help to a fighter pilot.
I did
learn, however, that aerial balloons were first used for surveillance and
gathering intelligence during the Civil War.”

“Really?
I’ll bet my Rebel classmates didn’t know about that.”

“Both the North and South used
them. The Union came up with the idea first. They sent up a tethered
hydrogen-filled balloon in 1861 near Arlington, Virginia. It spied on
Confederate troops at Falls Church, three miles away. The observations were
telegraphed back to the ground, resulting in the first case of guns being
accurately aimed and fired without being able to see the target.”

“Thanks. I’ll try that one on my
buddies in the morning.”

Warren looked thoughtful. “You said
something about finding a cigarette pack. What can that tell you?”

“Maybe nothing.
Probably not much.
It’s in the car. I haven’t really
examined it.”

Warren got up, walked over to the
window and looked out. After a moment, he turned. “Why don’t you go get it and
let’s take a
look.
Would sure as hell beat standing around
here waiting for a phone that won’t ring.”

I went out to the Jeep and
retrieved the crumpled cigarette pack, still wrapped in the tissue and locked
in the glove box. I’m always concerned about chain of custody when I come
across potential evidence. Back in Warren’s room, I laid it on the table,
straightening it out with another tissue, careful to do as little tampering as
possible. The pack was white with a partial red background, a blue design on
the left side of the front. Letters spelling “DALLAS lights” were reversed out
of the color in white.

“Never heard of that one,” Warren
said.

“Neither have I.” I turned it over,
and we looked at the back.

Warren scratched his stubble of
beard. “I’ll be damned. They’re made in Russia.”

He was right. The small print
indicated packaging in St. Petersburg, Russia. No question it was a rare thing
to be found on a riverbank in rural Trousdale County, Tennessee. The chances of
its being tossed there by some redneck fisherman were about as good as the
chances I’d be invited to join the Murder Squad at the Metro Nashville Police
Department. So who had dropped it there?
The killer?

As I felt of the package, I
realized a cigarette had been left inside it. The end could contain DNA if the
smoker had put it in his mouth,
then
returned it to
the pack.
But that was an extremely long shot.

I pulled out my cell phone. “I need
to call Agent Fought. This might possibly be a real break.”

Instead of a voice, I got
Fought’s
voice mail. I left a message asking him to call me
about a potentially important piece of evidence I had turned up. Next I called
Jill and told her about the cigarette pack.

“Where could they buy something
like that?” she asked.

“That’s a question Fought needs to
answer. Or we could. We’d have to go through the phone book and start calling
tobacco stores.”

“Should I give it a try?”

“Let’s hold off until we hear from
Fought. He can devote a lot more manpower to the job. I won’t be here much
longer, babe. Then I’ll head on home.”

Warren leaned back against the windowsill.
He toyed with the TV remote. “I can’t get interested in a baseball game or
anything else for worrying about Kelli.”

“Have you tried her cell phone?”

“Numerous times.
It just switches to voice mail.”

“Why don’t you
come on over to the house?
Give you somebody to talk to. If you stay
around here, you’ll drown yourself at the bar and feel lousy in the morning.”

“I hate to impose on you.”

“
Impose,
hell. Jill and I would be delighted to have you. Come on. You can follow me out
there, and I won’t have to give a bunch of confusing directions.”

“Confusing directions are part of
the Air Force way, pal.”

I laughed and headed for the door.

I kept an eye on the mirror to make
sure I didn’t lose Warren along the way, but my thoughts rarely wandered from
worrying about how Jill would take my little indiscretion. It kept looming
larger the closer I got to home. When I called to alert her that Warren was
coming over, I decided the confrontation might be blunted a bit with our friend
on hand.

Jill met us at the door and
welcomed Warren with a hug. “I’ve been scouring around the kitchen to find
something to fix for supper,” she said, as if she didn’t stock the makings of
most any delectable dish you could name.

“Don’t go to any trouble for me,”
Warren said. “I can do with peanut butter and jelly.”

“Not around here,” I said.

Jill scurried toward the kitchen to
finish what soon took shape as grilled chicken breasts with a blueberry sauce,
sliced carrots, tomatoes and zucchini and a salad of chopped endive with ripe
olives and almond slivers. Just a little something she whipped up on the spur
of the moment.

When we sat down to eat, Jill
smiled at Warren’s compliments. “It was nothing. Now tell me what you two
geniuses came up with regarding our troublesome case.”

I took a deep breath. “First, I
think we’d better talk about a new troublesome development.”

“What . . . .” She stopped,
apparently after gauging my dire expression.

“I did something I shouldn’t have
done, and I apologize sincerely for it.”

She sat still, gripping her fork.
“Go on.”

“After you left the office to go to
the craft store, I got a call from Camilla
Rottman
.
She talked about how much she appreciated our coming to the party,
then
she gave me a story about needing help with a
‘detecting task,’ as she called it. Could somebody come over this
afternoon.
When I told her I’d check with you, she claimed
the matter was extremely confidential and could only be investigated by a man
working alone. I should come by myself and say nothing about it to you.”

By now Jill’s lips were tightly
compressed, her eyes shifted from bright to stormy.

I struggled on. “I know I shouldn’t
have done it the way I did. I rationalized that I wasn’t lying by telling you I
was going to see Warren. I just didn’t tell you the whole story. I thought if I
followed her instructions, it might lead to some good business among her
friends with fat billfolds.”

“What did Dr. Trent say about
moneygrubbing
in his sermon last Sunday?”

Boy, my wife really knows how to
zing a guy. I winced. “I’ll try to listen more closely tomorrow. Anyway, I
found Camilla at home alone, just out of the pool, dressed in a skimpy swim
suit.”

I described the scene and
everything that happened, down to my reaction when Camilla tugged on her bra
and my abrupt departure after she made her little threat.

“And that’s it?” Jill said in a
cool voice.

I held up my hand like a witness at
the bar. “That is the whole and complete story, so help me God. Warren can tell
you it’s the same account I gave him.”

He nodded.

Jill stared at me for a few
moments, twitching her lips. Her face remained as solemn as a judge pronouncing
sentence, but her voice softened as she spoke. “I’d like to have seen you
sitting there sweating.
Serves you right.”

“Agreed,” I said. “Am I forgiven?”

“I’ll have to take that under
advisement. You had better eat before your food gets any colder.”

Colder than that look you’re giving
me, I wondered?