An Indecent Death (11 page)

Drumm shrugged. “Maybe it was the noise factor. He was afraid she’d cry out, so he drugged her to keep her quiet and killed her afterwards.” He paused for a moment. “But I think there’s another possibility. What if he drugged her, intending to rape her but he got the amount wrong? Maybe she woke up and recognized him. He killed her in a panic.”

“Is that likely, though?” Wesson asked. “The drug acts like an amnesiac, remember. She wouldn’t recall anything anyway.”

“Ah, but the lab report also said that the effects of GHB vary from individual to individual. The killer might not have known that, or that it’s difficult to get the dose right. Quite a few people die from the combination of GHB and alcohol – an overdose, that would be. Too much and she dies; too little and the drug would wear off sooner than expected.”

“That would fit,” said Lori. “So maybe the killer strangled her before he had the chance to rape her. That would account for the lack of any evidence of sexual activity.”

“And then he washed the glasses and took the bottle with him,” said Karl. “It makes sense, except why take the bottle?”

“That we don’t know,” said Drumm. “Hard to think of a reason why he’d take the bottle. Maybe it was a special wine? Who knows? Maybe he just took it in a panic.” He picked up the lab report again. “This report also indicates that she hadn’t had all that much to drink – an amount consistent with one glass of wine. She had tuna casserole for dinner and vegetable soup.”

“Dressed the way she was, it looks like she was planning an evening out,” said Lori. “She had some wine and some dinner and then she was maybe going to go out clubbing. But someone showed up, had a drink with her and killed her.”

“And he didn’t phone first,” added Karl. “The records didn’t show any calls that evening. So it looks like he just showed up unannounced and she let him in. Which means that she likely knew and trusted him. Especially since she apparently had a glass of wine with him.”

“In that case, we can rule out Greg Parent and Pierre Pepin, can’t we?” said Lori. “She wouldn’t let those two in, that’s for sure.”

Drumm shook his head. “Not necessarily. She might have let the custodian in, if he had a plausible reason for being there. It’s not likely, though; I certainly can’t think of a good reason for him to visit. And Parent could have forced his way in, if she opened the door a crack, for example, to see who it was. As I remember, there was no peephole in the apartment door. And he could have poured himself a glass of wine afterwards.”

Lori asked, “But how would he have got drugged wine into her then?” She waited but there was no response. “Well, let’s leave that for now. Are we assuming then that she was killed in the apartment?”

Drumm looked at her, then at Wesson. “For now I think we should, yes. We have no evidence to indicate otherwise. We have no witnesses to her going out, no video cameras at the property to show us anything at all, and her car was undisturbed in the parking lot. We have absolutely no evidence that she was killed anywhere else. All the signs point to her dying in her own apartment.”

“And she was buried in Hillsdale Park to try to cover up the crime, and make it look like she had gone missing,” said Karl. “If the body hadn’t been found, she might just have been treated like a missing person. It could have been many months before anyone suspected different.”

Lori was dubious. “But then why bury her so shallow? She was bound to be discovered.”

Drumm answered. “Maybe the killer lost his nerve, or it was taking too long, or maybe he panicked, or heard a noise. It was pitch dark, and there were probably strange sounds around him; he would have wanted to get out of there fast. Yes, I think we have a pretty good scenario now. She was killed in her apartment and dumped in the park.”

Wesson asked, “Was there anything else in the lab report?”

Drumm nodded. “The lab found small fibers in the neck wound – they’re silk. They are of the opinion that she was strangled with a silk stocking or scarf.” He looked at them. “There were three pairs of black silk stockings in her underwear drawer. Or rather, there were two complete pairs and one single stocking – its mate was missing.”

Karl said, “So we probably have our murder weapon.” At Drumm’s nod, Karl said, “Anything else, Nick?”

“Yes, the can under the body had been there a long time; it was all rusted with no prints on it. Odds are it had been thrown there years ago. The other junk found along the path was just that: trash that had been discarded by park patrons. The rope that was found – it’s about four feet long – is that yellow cord that can be bought in any hardware store. The red piece of plastic likely broke off something, like a kid’s wagon maybe or a cheap skateboard or scooter. There is no way of identifying it further than that.” Drumm looked at them. “All the garbage items like the cans and bottles and straws were dusted for prints and the lab has identified numerous different ones. They weren’t Sarah’s or Terry Noonan’s prints, that was all they could say for sure. There were fourteen different prints obtained, most likely from totally innocent people who committed the crime of littering.”

Lori stretched and yawned, then apologized. “Sorry, late night. We’re a lot further ahead now than we were. Staff Inspector Chappell should be pleased.”

Wesson shook his head and said, “I doubt very much Chappell will be happy until we make an arrest.”

Drumm grinned and said, “You’re right. But the GHB is significant. Even Chappell will agree with that.” He stood up. “Right. Karl, go and visit Musjari again. See if you can rattle his cage about the gym and shake something else loose from him. Don’t mention the drug yet, just try to upset him enough that he gives us something else.” Karl nodded. “Lori and I will have another go at Sarah’s apartment.”

Drumm had called Emily the night before and arranged to meet her again for lunch at a small Thai restaurant near the station. Several times throughout the morning he had been tempted to cancel the lunch date, especially after the lab results had come in. He was so busy! And there were so many things to think about and do. But in the end, he had decided to go ahead and meet Emily as planned. He was determined to make this relationship work, and if it didn’t, that it wouldn’t be his doing. A police detective with the Violent Crimes Unit was apt to be called at any time, and he knew that Emily was aware of this. But still, knowing it and accepting it were two different things. It wouldn’t do to cancel a date at this still fragile stage of their new understanding. Things were going too well.

So he had arranged to meet Lori Singh at Sarah Noonan’s apartment in an hour and then snuck off like a guilty lover, making a weak excuse to the other detective. She likely didn’t care at all, anyway, probably glad of the opportunity to get away from him and have lunch by herself.

Emily was waiting for him at the bar, dressed in a flowery skirt and plain white blouse, demurely buttoned up. He kissed her briefly on the cheek, smelling the lilac scent of her perfume, and told her she looked wonderful. Which she did.

“Thank you, sir. You look pretty good yourself; maybe a bit tired though.”

“I am tired, Em. This case is taking a lot out of me and I haven’t been sleeping well.” That was a lie, actually. He was sleeping okay, it was just that his blood sugar reading was up over seven and when that happened, he started to feel weak. He could handle it, he knew, it just made life interesting. And he wasn’t going to tell Emily about it. “I can’t stay long, Emily, sorry. A lot of new information came in on the case this morning and I have a ton to do. But I didn’t want to miss seeing you.”

Emily smiled and visibly relaxed. “Good, then. I was a bit worried that you’d get cold feet.”

They ordered their meals and chatted amiably for the next half hour. Drumm decided that this had been the right thing to do after all. It took his mind off the case for a bit of a break, and he knew when he went back to it, he would be refreshed. It was pleasant to think of other things.

“I’m thinking of leaving the office, Nicky. I’ve become a broker, you know. And things are going so well, I was wondering about opening my own business. Emily Graham Real Estate. How does that sound to you?” Emily was looking at him carefully, wanting to judge his reaction.

“Wow, things must be good, Em! Your own company? Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Emily looked disappointed. “You don’t think I am?”

Drumm kicked himself mentally. “I didn’t mean that, Emily. Of course you’re very capable. It’s just, it’s such a big step. Must be a helluva of a financial commitment. One just wants to be sure, that’s all.”

“I’m working on all of that, Nicky. I’ll be ready when the time comes. I was hoping you would see it as a good idea.” Emily was obviously disappointed in his reaction.

“It is a good idea, Emily. Really. I was just taken by surprise. You’ll do great.”

By this time, they had paid the bill and were outside the bar, on their way to their vehicles. Emily seemed somewhat mollified. She leaned into him and kissed him quickly on the cheek. “I’ll call you later,” she said.

Drumm watched her walk to her car and hoped that he hadn’t upset her. Clearly his underwhelming reaction to Emily’s big news had been a tactical error on his part. He would have to make it up to her.

Donald Musjari lived in a newer apartment block located about two miles from Sarah Noonan’s building. Karl Wesson figured Musjari could drive there in ten minutes or less, run it in twenty minutes or so. Was it just a coincidence that they lived so close together?

Karl’s mood was not good as he made the trip over to Musjari’s residence. Again this morning he hadn’t gone for his run, as he had once again allowed things to get out of control. He knew he shouldn’t do it, he knew he was hooked and on his way down the drain, but he couldn’t help himself anymore, it seemed. It was like he was driven, like someone else was in charge of his brain. He must stop, he had to stop, he said to himself. But even as he said it, he knew he would be trying again tonight to climb out of the pit that he had dug himself..

Karl had called ahead to let Musjari know he was coming. He and Drumm hadn’t seen him at school that morning and the secretary had confirmed that he was home sick. When Drumm had asked just how sick he was, Mrs. McCall had shrugged her shoulders and said she didn’t know. “They don’t call us, you see, when they want to be away. They phone YASS and say they’re going to be absent.” At their puzzled looks, she said, “Oh. YASS stands for York Area Substitute System. It’s computerized. The teachers call in and enter their password. There’s a menu they go through. They don’t actually speak to anyone, just make choices.”

Drumm had asked, “Don’t they need a doctor’s note or have to give you a reason for being away?”

But Mrs. McCall had shaken her head, saying, “Only a doctor’s note if it’s three consecutive days. And we’re not allowed to know the reason. That’s because of privacy issues.”

This was a much more liberal system than when Drumm had taught. “And how many sick days are they allowed now?”

“Twenty.”

Karl had asked, somewhat incredulously, “Do you mean that a teacher can be away twenty days in a year, no questions asked?”

Mrs. McCall answered, “That’s about it, yes. Although most of them aren’t absent nearly that much.”

Drumm asked, “So you don’t know how sick Mr. Musjari is?”

“No, not at all. Though if you ask me, he’s taking a mental health day. He seemed okay yesterday.”

Musjari had been a little reluctant to meet with him but Wesson convinced him by suggesting that he could avoid a trip to the station. That usually worked, and it did in this case too.

When he let the detective into the apartment, Musjari was wearing blue jeans and a grey Boston Red Sox sweatshirt. He was unshaven and looked tired but not sick.

“Thanks for seeing me, Mr. Musjari.”

“You didn’t give me a lot of choice, did you?”

Wesson decided to pull his chain a little. “I hope you aren’t too sick.”

Musjari looked at him suspiciously. “It’s more of a mental health day. This Sarah thing has shaken me up. I haven’t been sleeping well. It’s hard to concentrate on school stuff with this going on.”

They sat in the living room. Musjari’s apartment looked like a standard one-bedroom unit to Wesson: small kitchen, combined living and dining room, bathroom, balcony. It was furnished adequately but not sumptuously. It looked comfortable and clean.

“Now, Mr. Musjari. Let’s go over what you told Detectives Drumm and Singh yesterday. You said that you were interested in Sarah Noonan but she wasn’t interested in you. Because you’re of Arab descent. Is that right?”

“That’s what I said, yes.”

“You asked her out once and…” Karl consulted his notebook. “She kissed you off. What did you mean by that?”

Musjari was looking annoyed. “I asked her to go for a drink after school one night. She said she couldn’t, she had work to do. But I didn’t believe her. I could tell she didn’t like me.” His voice rose. “And that would have been alright, if she was honest about it! Just tell me the truth. But she was too good for me, she thought. It’s because I’m Arab!”

Wesson thought it much more likely that it was because of the resentment he carried around. Aloud he said, “So you just asked her out the once? That’s a bit surprising, isn’t it? You said you found her cute and sexy. Do you always give up so easily?”

Musjari was fidgeting about on the couch. Throughout the conversation his eyes had rarely met Wesson’s. He wasn’t looking at him now. “I asked her out a few times.”

Wesson looked at him. “A few times? Why didn’t you say that yesterday?”

“I don’t know. I was flustered. Upset. That other detective pissed me off. I said the wrong thing.” Musjari looked directly at Wesson. “I didn’t feel right about what I said yesterday. It’s one of the reasons I let you come and talk to me today. So I could do the right thing.”

“So you asked Sarah Noonan for a date. How many times?”

Musjari’s nostrils flared. He was a good-looking man but lost much of his appeal when his emotions got the better of him, as they were doing now. “They weren’t dates, for Chrissakes! It was just to go for a drink, to hang out. Twice that was. And once I asked her to go for a run with me. On a Sunday.”

“Let me make sure I have this right. You asked Sarah to go out for a drink with you twice, and to go on a run with you?”

“That’s right. That was the only one she said yes to.”

Karl leaned forward. “Sarah Noonan went on a run with you? When was that?”

“It was a few months ago. I don’t remember exactly when. But it was cold out, that I do know. And there was snow on the ground. We met up at a little parkette not far from here and jogged together for a couple of miles. And that was it. We went home separately. And every time I asked her out after that for a drink, she refused me!” Musjari was getting angry again.

Well that was interesting, thought Karl. He said, “You went for a run with her once, and then she turned you down twice when you asked her to go for a drink, to hang out. Do I have that right?”

Musjari nodded and Karl went on. “OK, now what about these other teachers you mentioned she was interested in. Would that be Kevin Callaghan and Bill Deans?”

Musjari was looking increasingly surly. “You know about them? Yeah, that’s the two I mean. There might have been more. Who knows? She was a hell of a tease.”

“So I understand,” said Karl. “Now, you were out last Friday night, with Mr. Omar Khan, at a restaurant and a nightclub. You will be interested to know that Mr. Khan confirms that he was with you that evening.”

“Of course he would. That’s because I
was
with him.” Musjari was impatient.

Karl went on, “But he can’t confirm that he was with you the whole evening. He says you went away for a while, and he also doesn’t know what time the two of you left Sparkles. So where did you go?”

“I was only gone for a few minutes! I had to meet my brother.”

“About what?”

“About private family business. Private!”

Karl sighed. What a tiresome idiot this man was. “So, let’s sum up. You’ve lied to the police and not told us important information about a murder victim that we should have heard. You can’t account for your whereabouts on the night of her killing and you won’t say where you were. Is that about right?”

Musjari started to speak but Karl cut him off. “Don’t bother – I wouldn’t believe you anyway. Change of subject now. I understand you belong to The Fit Life gym, the same club as Sarah Noonan and Lynnette Cranston.”

“That’s right. That’s how I know she liked to run.”

Karl said, “We’ve been told that Sarah dressed in a provocative way at the club. Can you confirm that?”

Musjari wasn’t looking at him again. “She wore shorts and a top, like most everyone else.”

Wesson was looking at his notes. “Tight bicycle shorts and tight tops, so we were told. Is that what you saw?”

Musjari was now visibly angry. “I guess so. Yes. She was a hot, sexy tease, like I already told you!”

“We were also informed that you stared at her a lot at the gym. And that she didn’t like it. Is that right? Is that maybe why she didn’t want to out with you? Because you were ogling her and making her uncomfortable?”

Musjari had stood up towards the end of the questions. He was angry but he had control of himself. “No! I wasn’t ogling her! And I’ve had enough of this. You need to go now!” He strode to the door and held it open.

Karl sighed, then stood and said, “Well, thanks for your… co-operation. Hope you’re not too sick tomorrow.” He left the apartment figuring he had gotten most of what he had come for.

Since nobody had been in it for three days, Sarah Noonan’s apartment smelt musty and stale; the FIS team had left the door locked and sealed.  Drumm wanted another look at it to see if he had missed anything. He was searching for any small item that would show that the woman had been killed in the apartment. He wanted Lori along to give him the benefit of her observations.

They had already checked the parking space in the garage where Sarah’s Rabbit had been parked, the garbage collection area and the entrances to the building. Five floors up and close to the elevators and a staircase, Sarah Noonan’s apartment must have been pretty convenient for her. It would also have been handy for her killer to remove her body.

The fisties had been thorough, staying late into the night, checking the elevators and stairwells and her car. They had come up with nothing, except the fact that one of the small outdoor visitor parking lots was bright and well-lit, the other was much darker, the result of a broken bulb in the light standard.

Lori was going through the kitchen while Drumm inspected the closets. The food was still in the refrigerator and cupboards, undisturbed. “We’ll have to do something about this food soon,” she said. “And did you notice? There are six wineglasses here in the cupboard. It looks like one is missing, counting the one on the drying rack – they usually come in sets of eight.”