temple…” A close up of the entry wound, small, cleaned, it looked almost plastic under the medical examiner’s harsh lights.
“When officers were dispatched to Mr. Defry’s home he answered the door wearing clothing marked with mud and blood. The detectives asked to search the home and garage. Hugh was described as slightly incoherent and nonresistant, offering the officers access.”
Edwards cut in. “I think it may be possible to get the whole search thrown out. We’ve got a tox screen in and should have some answers in a couple of days but if Hugh was impaired during their search, we may be able to contest consent.” He leaned into the center of the table, eyes bright with the challenge.
A photo of the trunk of a car, dark smears marring the beige carpeted interior, filled the screen. “Defry also gave them permission to search his car. The blood found in the trunk matched Taggert’s and they found the weapon, a gun,”—its barrel parallel with the edge of a wooden table, lined up against a tape measure flashed on the screen—“on Defry’s kitchen table. He has no memory of this gun, the serial number was filed off and ballistics did not match anything in the database… except Mr. Lawrence Taggert’s wound.”
#
R esting both hands on the conference table, Edwards rose to his full height and said, “Now that Antonio has told you what we know, let me talk about what we don’t know. Here’s my first question: What kind of drugs was he on?” He walked around to the front of the table taking the clicker from Antonio who then sat. “We should have the tox screen back by this afternoon. Hopefully it can answer that question for us.” He smiled around the room, exuding confidence. “My next question: Who gave the drugs to him? And was that person there?” Edwards pointed at the screen where a photograph of a blood spattered wall glowed. “Now this says to me, and to our experts, that there was somebody standing right here.” He reached out and touched the screen, pointing to a blank section of the wall. Circling his finger around it, he continued, “This, ladies and gentleman, is evidence of a leg.” He turned back to us. “A leg that does not belong to our client, Mr. Hugh Defry, nor the victim, Mr. Lawrence Taggert. So,” he held his hands out to the side. “Who does it belong to?”
No one thought he expected an answer and so no one offered one. I’d read about his theory on the flight, Hugh had been drugged. Someone else was there. We just had to find out what Hugh was drugged with and by whom. Then we’d have our solution.
Before Edwards could continue there was a knock on the door. We could see through the glass that it was the secretary holding a tray of bagels. Robert opened the door for her. She smiled at him and stepped forward to place the bagels in the center of the table. Robert nodded to Mulberry and then stepped out into the hall. I watched him go for a moment and then, before Edwards started up again dashed through the door, Blue by my side, the secretary still arranging napkins.
#
H e was only a bit down the hall when I closed the conference room door behind me. Bobby stopped and turned. He smiled when he saw Blue and me. “Can I help?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I thought we should talk,” I said.
Both brows rose. “Really?”
“Mulberry says I should give you a chance.”
“And you listen to him?”
“Don’t you?”
He laughed. “Dinner tonight then?”
I nodded. “Okay, where?”
“How about my place? I’ve got work drinks in the city after so let’s make it early. My driver will pick you up. 5:30?”
“How about a public place?”
“You really want to talk about our business in a public place?” he asked. “I’d be happy to meet in your hotel room.” I thought about the two of us in a confined space and agreed to meet him at his house.
“I’ll drive myself, though,” I said.
“You have a car?”
“I will.”
“Let me