Chapter 17

O n the boat, Kate couldn't turn off her busy mind, especially after Simon had found copies of the shell company created by Darrian Jackson for the Feldspar family. It was hard to just relax and to let everything fade away. She stretched out on the deck of the boat, on a cozy foldable chair, trying to let the day's events just drift away from her. It might help in solving some of her problems, but it sure as hell wasn't helping her relax enough to unwind and to enjoy being out here.

When Simon squatted beside her and handed her a glass of red wine, she looked at it and beamed. "That might help too."

He nodded. "It's obvious you're struggling. If I can do anything to help, let me know."

She grimaced and said, "This case is just confusing."

His lips quirked. "All of your cases tend to be confusing, and some of them are downright madness," he admitted, with a smile.

"Yeah, and this one's definitely not any different," she noted. "I just don't understand yet which way it goes and who's lying and who's not."

"Are we talking about the suicide that's not a suicide?"

She frowned at that and shrugged. "That's an entirely different case that's also very confusing," she agreed. "That one was already pissing me off, and then this other shit started," she muttered.

"That's just because you don't like Mulhouse's wife."

"Liking her or not has nothing to do with it," she stated, giving him a hard glance. "I truly believe she had something to do with the deaths of her other husbands, if not this one too."

Simon picked up his wine and stretched out on the deck, propped on one elbow so he could face her. "But you can't prove it?"

"No, I can't prove it," she admitted, with an audible sigh, "and that just pisses me off even more."

He smiled at that and nodded. "And nothing makes you quite so upset as thinking somebody has pulled one over on you." She glared at him again, and he smiled. "Hey, I don't blame you. Obviously you have somebody who knows what she's doing or is very capable of figuring out how to make the evidence look different from what you would expect it to be."

Kate frowned as she pondered that and as she thought about the notebook with the missing pages, the forensics, and how no GSR was on the victim's hands. She sat up with a jerk, as she got something different now. She snatched her phone and called Dr. Smidge's office. She was surprised to get him at the end of the day. "I didn't expect you to still be in the office." She was talking fast, as if excited.

"I didn't either, but something else occurred to me."

"With the suicide that's not a suicide?" she asked, all too happy now.

"Exactly." His tone was charged with suspicion. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that the wife was in there staging the scene to make it look as if it weren't a suicide."

Silence came first on the other end. "Shit, you are nosy and creative, and that is one of the reasons I'm still here. We ran a few extra forensic tests, and we found threads on his hands, caught up in his nails."

"Threads?"

"Yes, threads from cloth gloves."

"Aha," she crowed, as she bolted to her feet and paced around the deck of the boat. "So he did commit suicide, yet wore gloves?"

"But," Simon interrupted, "why would he wear gloves to commit his own suicide?"

Kate quickly explained, "Sometimes they don't want to be ID'd for whatever reason or they themselves want to create suspicions around their own deaths, which is exactly what I think Robert Mulhouse was doing here. He was signaling for us to check out Amie further."

"But she removed the gloves?" Simon asked, frowning. "How odd."

"Maybe not so odd," she told Simon, then returned to her phone call. "So you found no GSR on his hands because Amie took off his gloves, then rearranged the scene to make it seem suspicious."

"Exactly," Smidge confirmed. "I presume she knew perfectly well that she wouldn't get any life insurance proceeds if his death was ruled a suicide. Thus, she muddied the waters," he suggested, with an amused tone, "but you'll still have to prove it."

"I know," she stated, "but, if you are changing your initial findings, from a murder back to a suicide," she took a moment to add dramatically, "that changes everything. We may have a way to flush her out all on her own. "

"I'm not quite done," he forewarned her. "I'm not entirely happy with that explanation yet, and I want more of the forensics back. It would make a hell of a lot of difference if you could find the gloves."

"Yes," she agreed, calming down, her mind clicking away at max speed, as she thought about the implications. "That would be important," she muttered. "Even if we do find them, it'll make it seem that whoever wore the gloves is guilty or that the gloves were then used to murder him."

"Exactly," he replied, "so that'll be another bit of a challenge. However, if we found only his skin cells on the inside…"

"Yes," she said cheerfully. "If you think it's a suicide, and that becomes your official ruling, that's what the insurance company will go by."

He let out a bark of laughter at that. "You really don't like her, do you?"

She winced. "You know I'm not supposed to be emotional when it comes to this stuff."

"Bollocks. Just because we're not supposed to have feelings doesn't mean that we don't." He took a moment and added sarcastically, "We are human after all. Why don't you like her?"

"Because I'm pretty damn sure she had something to do with the deaths of her previous husbands. I think this one quite possibly killed himself, ahead of being murdered by her. He probably didn't figure he had a choice."

"That would suck, and it would also mean that he really didn't want to live, especially if that's what she was doing."

"Did you check to see if he had any life-altering disease or anything?"

"No," he replied, with a finality in his tone, "but you could contact his doctor and see if anything was going on in that area."

"I'll do that in the morning," she noted, with satisfaction in her tone. "Then you could confirm, correct?"

"Depending on what it was, yes," he replied, frustrated, most likely because that again put it all on him and the forensics. "It's not generally within the scope of an autopsy like this. I'm not looking for any cause of death." He chuckled, as she sighed this time. "I'm looking to determine whether we're dealing with a suicide versus a murder."

"Got it." She spoke with him for a few moments and then ended the call. She turned to Simon with a crow of satisfaction.

"Why are you so happy that this poor guy committed suicide?" he asked, looking at her oddly, and only then did she realize just how that probably looked.

She groaned. "It's not that I'm happy he committed suicide," she explained. "I'm happy he wasn't murdered. And, of course, I'm not happy that the guy died at all. It seems it was his choice though, and obviously that's important. I'm more concerned about the fact that his wife may have intentionally manipulated the crime scene so it would look like a murder. However, because it wasn't a murder, there won't be any evidence to find or any case to close. Still, she wanted a murder investigation, so the case would stay in limbo, trying to find some fictitious killer, all so she would hopefully get paid the life insurance proceeds."

"Ah, now I'm getting there," Simon said.

"Yeah. Once we find that it isn't a murder but a suicide, plus potentially a tampered crime scene," Kate explained, "that changes everything."

"And you don't want her to get the life insurance money, do you?"

She winced. "Again, that makes me out to be an absolute bitch, and I'm not. However, if I can't do anything about her previous husbands' deaths, at least I can try to keep her from benefitting from this guy's death."

"And you think that's why she's doing this?"

"I would bet my last dollar on it," Kate declared. "She has benefited each and every time in some way when her previous husbands wound up dead. I wonder whether husband number three had any idea that she was even contemplating his murder, or maybe he had just found out about her other husbands and what happened to them, or he might have just found out about her affair. Regardless of what Robert knew, it would only be natural that he would wonder when he would be next."

"Is that why you asked about any deadly illness?"

"Yes, but Smidge's right. I'll have to get Mulhouse's medical file."

"Smidge won't go take a look himself?"

"He could take a look, but, with budgets the way they are, and all the time and effort that kind of an autopsy would require, it is not ideal. If I could give him a place to start, or something he could confirm, it would help a lot. If it's obvious that Mulhouse is riddled with cancer, that's a different story, but Smidge wouldn't typically do a full autopsy on a case like this."

"And no need to either, right? I mean, the poor guy's dead, and it's just a kindness to close this chapter of his life."

"Yes, it's a kindness, and even better if Amie doesn't benefit from it."

"And you have no recourse on the other husbands?"

"This one's a suicide, and the previous one was a murder in the Philippines. I would definitely have a hard time opening that case," she admitted. "The first husband was a suicide too. And she probably didn't gain from any life insurance benefit, yet got marital assets. I would probably leave that one alone, until I have a definitive answer as to something she gained from any possible murder there."

"So, you to think that she probably killed him?"

"Husband number one or husband number two? I think both, but I can't prove it," she said, raising her hands in frustration. "It's all conjecture and doesn't really give me the answers I need."

Simon smiled. "But you'll get them."

She looked over at him and grinned. "Absolutely I will."

"Tomorrow we leave, right?"

She sighed and then nodded. "Yes, tomorrow is soon enough to head back," she muttered, with a smile.

"Good. You do realize tomorrow is a Sunday though, right?"

She frowned at that and then shrugged. "Maybe that will impact things a little, but Monday will happen soon enough."

*

In fact, Monday happened pretty damn fast. She walked into the office, primed and ready to make several phone calls and to drag out as much information as she could from people. Rodney was already there, slurping back a cup of coffee and looking a whole lot worse for wear. She stared at him, one eyebrow raised. "Doesn't appear that you had a good weekend."

"Oh, I had a great weekend," he declared, with a grin, "but getting back to work? Now that's a bitch. "

"Ah, yeah. I spent some of it out on the boat."

"Okay, that's enough of that," he declared, waving his hand. "Only so much us poor regular folk can handle."

She rolled her eyes at that. "Considering it's Simon's boat, not mine, that's really not the right thing to say to me."

"Considering it's Simon's boat," he repeated, with an eye roll, "let's not kid ourselves. You're enjoying it."

"I sure am," she admitted, with a laugh. "I didn't think I would. It's not something I've ever really wanted to do. I've lived in Vancouver all my life, sitting here, staring out at that world on the water, but never with any avarice or need to be out there sailing myself." She truly wanted Rodney to get it because she never wanted to have this conversation again, "I just never really thought that it could be something so nice. Or maybe it was so far out of reach that I just never considered it."

"And now that you know," he said, giving her a look, "I'm sure you'll want to go out all the time."

She nodded. "I would absolutely love to go out for a week," she shared, "but I don't know that either of us could ever make that happen. The next time I get a few days off, though, we'll sure try."

"I hope you do," Rodney said. "Meanwhile I went to a barbecue with some old school friends." He shook his head, smiling broadly. "Boy, am I feeling that today."

"Was it a barbecue, or some wrestling match?"

"You wish."

"You're not as young as you used to be," she noted cheerfully.

He glared at her, and she just chuckled. He asked, "Why are you in such a damn good mood? Oh, right, because you had a fun weekend out on the water. "

"You had a fun weekend too," she pointed out, "just in a different way. Besides," she added, giving a dramatic pause, "I talked to Smidge, who surprised me by answering the phone Saturday night, but we potentially have a completely different scenario happening now with Amie and the suicide ."

"Interesting," he replied. When she explained further, his eyebrows shot up. "So, you think it was a suicide after all, but she altered the evidence to make it look as if it wasn't?"

Kate nodded. "That would be my take on it, yes. Of course we need to find a few more things—the gloves, for example. That would help."

"But, if you found the gloves, couldn't it mean that she killed him herself?"

"In which case there will be GSR to be found on her, and, if it isn't a murder case, then as long as we find Robert's DNA inside the gloves, that should help." Then she stopped and shrugged. "Or it's left open, and we find the GSR and charge her with murder."

Rodney snorted.

Kate added, "I know it's not really a laughing matter, but, considering I sincerely don't believe she's innocent in the deaths of her other two husbands, that would definitely be something for me to take a look at."

He shook his head. "Why can't these cases be nice and simple?"

"Because people don't want to do the time for having done the crime," she pointed out, while quickly pouring herself a cup of coffee. Then she sat down at her desk, picked up the phone, and called the medical clinic, where Robert Mulhouse's medical records were on file. It took a bit until she could get through to the doctor. When she explained what had happened and what she was looking for, silence came on the other end.

Finally he spoke. "I'm not sure if I can say anything, not without a court order."

"You could wait for a court order," she noted, "and I can certainly get one, but all I'm asking you to do is confirm if Robert Mulhouse had any medical reasons for why he would contemplate suicide. That is not a violation of patient confidentiality, since you are bound to report suicidal tendencies anyway."

He groaned. "I did talk to him about getting some help because he was quite depressed."

"Was he only depressed about his medical diagnosis?"

"No, he'd been depressed for a while, even before he got engaged and married. I had hoped that finding love would help him. When he came in looking for antidepressants about two months ago, I went over his symptoms, which had gotten worse. So I didn't like a lot of what I heard. Thus I wanted to run a few tests. Those tests led me to a diagnosis of lung cancer."

"For somebody so young?" She gasped, legitimately shocked.

"Yes. When he got depressed, he smoked. He didn't tell me that he was smoking again, of course, not until I questioned him about it, along with the coughing he'd been experiencing. He finally admitted that he was smoking once more, and that was why he started coughing all of the sudden. Yet he didn't tell me when he started smoking again, which started at least ten years ago, after his father had died of lung cancer as well. He was a closet smoker, so he kept it from everybody."

"Oh goodness." Kate sighed .

"Yes, but I'm really sorry he chose the suicide route."

"Me too. Could I have something in writing regarding his condition, please?"

"Yes, I can do that."

"Do you know if he told his wife?"

"I'm not sure. All I can say is that… she was part of the reason he was so depressed," he stated in a hard tone. "I guess there is no point and no reason for not telling you that."

"Can you explain further?"

"He thought his wife was seeing somebody else, and he was quite perturbed over it all. He'd also found out something else that made him wonder if he knew her at all."

"Ah."

"He just mentioned that it was something about her previous relationships. Do you know what this is about?"

"Robert was her third husband, and her first two died while married to her," Kate shared.

"Good Lord." The doctor froze for a moment, then asked in a careful tone, as if not sure whether he should continue. "Nothing is suspicious about Robert's death, is there?"

"That's what we're still sorting through," she replied, "and another reason I needed something from you regarding an illness that could potentially make Robert suicidal. It panned out, I guess."

"He was suicidal, and I can say that with absolute clarity. We did talk about it, and I tried to get him to seek some help. When the lung cancer diagnosis was confirmed, I was quite concerned about what it would do to his mind-set. Yet he told me that he was fine and that he was figuring things out. I didn't expect him to be figuring it out this way though."

"I'm sure you didn't," she said, "and it can't be easy when patients face these situations."

"Robert was my patient for many years," the doctor shared, "a decade, more or less. You do get to know these people, and I was quite shocked that he didn't seem to be too bothered to hear that he had cancer, which may have been part of the shock for me. He was just so laid-back about it and seemed as if he didn't really care."

"And that would go along with the depression then too, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, to a degree, and that's more or less when I realized just how significant his mood was. I just wish I could have done something about it sooner."

"Understood. Send over whatever you're comfortable with sharing from his file that I can put in mine, or at least give me a letter confirming the cancer diagnosis and what the prognosis would have been. And please mention that he was seeking antidepressants or that you put him on antidepressants and why."

"Why don't I just send over the file?" he suggested. "I don't see that as a conflict at this point."

"If you could send all your records, that would be the best," she stated. "I can get a warrant if necessary to cover the release of the medical records. I'm just trying to get this wrapped up as soon as I can and not cause any more pain to a family who's already lost somebody they care about."

"Good point," he replied. "Robert did mention he would contact his family and maybe even get another opinion, which I encouraged."

"I didn't realize that he had any family still."

"Most of them are gone, but he has a sister, I believe. Hang on a minute. Let me take a quick look in my files.… Yes, his sister lives in England." He gave Kate the number and added, "He intended to contact Hannah, but I don't know if he did."

"Okay, thanks very much." She rang off, then quickly checked the clock, shrugged, and dialed the number in England. When Hannah answered, Kate quickly explained who she was.

"Is this about my brother's death?" she asked.

Kate winced. "Yes, I presume you heard."

"Yes, Amie contacted me a little while ago," she stated curtly. "She told me that the police were considering that he'd been murdered." Yet Hannah seemed quite unsure of it.

"There is some confusion on that, and we're still waiting for the coroner to give us a final determination, but it's very possible that it was suicide."

"But that's not my brother."

Kate hesitated and then added, "I believe he phoned you not too long ago. Is that right?"

"Yes, yes, and he was quite upbeat and quite positive," Hannah replied in confusion. "Then to find this out?" She sighed. "It was just shocking."

"I'm sure it was. Did he tell you anything about his physical health?"

"No, not at all, but he sounded wonderful. Our conversation was just lovely, since we hadn't talked in a very long time," she murmured.

"That's one of the reasons why I was calling, to see if he shared something with you. I didn't know if he would have or not," Kate admitted.

Hannah asked, "Why?" The one word held an odd note of fear .

Kate wondered if the sister hadn't heard something herself. "I spoke with his doctor just now, and Robert had lung cancer."

"Oh, no," she gasped, and then she went really quiet. "Our father had lung cancer, and, by the end, it made for a pretty ugly death."

"Which just lends credence to the idea that Robert may have, indeed, committed suicide."

Hannah started to sob. "I didn't think I could be any more heartbroken," she cried out. "I don't know why he didn't contact me."

"Yet he did contact you, and I think that call was his attempt at saying, Hi, I love you, and goodbye , all at the same time," Kate suggested in a low tone. "Obviously saying goodbye is a hard thing to do, but I'm not sure that he had even figured out what he would do at that point."

With his sister sobbing noisily in the background, Kate rubbed her forehead and asked, "Robert was not the type to commit suicide, I presume?"

"He was quite depressed when he was younger," she murmured, "which had a lot to do with our father and his death because we were there the whole time, watching him die, and nothing is worse."

"I'm so sorry."

"Thank you. Although," she added, sobbing in between, "hearing that Robert committed suicide, I don't know that it makes it any better. I was honestly terrified to think that somebody had murdered him. Nobody could possibly hate my brother. You don't understand what Robert was like. He was such a sweetheart."

Kate listened as Robert's sister reminisced about him and gave glowing reports on her brother's personality .

Finally Hannah ran down. "Thank you," she muttered, "and thank you for letting me talk about him."

"That's fine. I'm sorry for giving you such rough news."

"No, in a way, this… is not good news, but I understand it."

"Good," Kate replied. "Don't say anything to anybody at this point, please."

"No, I won't. Does Amie know?"

"I don't know if she does or not, but I'll be talking to her soon, so I will break the news to her then."

"So, in other words, I shouldn't speak to her."

"No, please don't. That would just confuse the issues."

"Got it," Hannah said, and their call ended.

After that Kate wrote up her notes.

"So, is it a suicide now?" Rodney asked from behind her.

Without lifting her head from her notes, she replied, "Not officially, because Smidge wants more to go on, but I've got some medical documentation coming that should help. I think it was a suicide. I think Amie knew she wouldn't get any life insurance, so she altered the crime scene to make it look like a murder. That sounds most probable to me, but the jury is still out on that."

He looked over at her and nodded. "You don't even have to prove it, do you?"

She gave him a beaming smile. "Nope, because, as soon as that ruling of suicide comes down from Smidge, that's what it is."

"Amie can get a second opinion."

"She can sure try," Kate agreed, "but the coroner would still have to change his ruling for those life insurance policy benefits to come Amie's way."

"Got it.… You really don't like her, do you? "

She winced. "Jesus, people keep saying that, and I guess it's fair to suggest that I'm a little biased about this, but I'm trying to hold it in check. I'm much more concerned about the three dead men who came in contact with her and married her and then died before their time."

"Yeah," Rodney agreed, "that's a viable point. It doesn't seem as if anybody was looking after them, does it?"

"Exactly, and that's my point," she said in frustration. "Two of them had already passed on. Robert's the third, and I'm not sure anybody gave a crap."

"Or they gave a crap, but…"

Kate shrugged. When her phone buzzed a few minutes later, she checked to see it was Simon. "Good morning. Am I okay to enter the Paragon building?"

"Morning, and you're clear to go."

After that call ended, she sent a text, asking if he would purchase the property.

Still contemplating was his reply.

She snorted out loud at that. "Still contemplating, my ass," she muttered.

"Who's looking at your ass?" Owen asked sarcastically, as he walked up behind her.

She rolled her eyes at him. "No one," she declared, then blushed, remembering her weekend with Simon on the yacht. "The Paragon property, where the homeless guy was first found, still alive, Simon is considering buying it."

"Why would he want that run-down piece of crap?" he asked, with a laugh.

"Apparently it's one he's had on his wish list for a long time."

"Good God, the guy must be nuts to go after that dump," he muttered. "Who the hell would want anything to do with that building? It's a drop-down for sure."

"I'm pretty sure Simon would say it's the absolute opposite of a drop-down." When Owen looked at her in shock, she shrugged. "Hey, don't ask me to explain that mind-set. That's why I'm a cop, and I don't do real estate," she clarified, with a smile.

"Yeah, you're not kidding. Who would have thought that dump had any prospects?"

"You okay with your cases?" she asked him.

"I am. How are you doing on yours?"

"I'm okay."

"You haven't called Simon in to help on these last couple cases," he noted, with a teasing smile. "Is Simon slipping up, or is he too busy buying properties?"

"I have a hunch he'll always be too busy buying properties," she replied, with an eye roll. "But he certainly did connect with this one in a way because the dead homeless guy we found at the Feldspar house pretty much lived at the Paragon. Simon had spoken to him several times."

"So, why can't Simon just go into the building and say, Hey, homeless dude, who killed you? And get an answer?"

She wanted to shut him up, but instead she shared, "Jesus, Owen, you are too much. But, since you brought it up, Simon is a little concerned that the dead homeless guy is reaching out to talk to him." At that, everybody in the bullpen turned to look at her. She shrugged. "Don't ask me. Channeling or spirit-talking, or whatever the hell it is called, is not my deal."

"Well, shit," Owen muttered, looking a little bit pale and not laughing anymore.

At that, Rodney hesitated before suggesting, "You could ask him to try. "

"I could ask him to try what?" she asked, narrowing her gaze as she spun in her chair to look at him. "To talk to a dead guy? Do you think that'll hold up in court?"

"No, it sure won't," Rodney agreed, "but it might give you something to go on." And he waggled his eyebrows at her.

She groaned. "No thanks. I would just as soon stick to the good old-fashioned police work."

"Yeah, until it doesn't work quite so easily," he muttered. When she glared at him, he just raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, it was just a suggestion. Don't mind me."

"Don't worry. I won't," she muttered, as she turned back to her desk. Yet it was hard not to think about it when so much craziness was going on. She just didn't want anybody to think that Simon owed them, or in any way should open himself up to the nightmare he had to live with. That woo-woo stuff was bad enough as it was for Simon, without her asking him to invite in more woo-woo stuff. She only had to deal with it peripherally during the nightmares he seemed to be forever plagued with, and that wasn't easy to watch. But her team didn't know about that, and it wasn't her business to tell them.