Twisted Path Read online

  She gave him a halfhearted smile. “Thanks.”

  He held her gaze for a beat. “Can I ask you something else? I don’t want it to sound like an accusation because it isn’t. I’m just trying to sort out which facts are relevant.”

  “Sure.” She answered instantly, but her voice was anything but certain.

  “Okay. Did you really have the flu the day you were supposed to testify at Tenley’s trial?”

  She bristled. “Of course I did. Are you suggesting I’m a malingerer?”

  “Not at all.” He hesitated. “But I remember how Sonny ran the office. He had … uh … definite opinions. I wondered if he might have pressured you to overstate your conclusions or something.”

  “Tenley confessed, remember?” she said hotly.

  “He was staring down some pretty damning DNA evidence. Entering a guilty plea to take the death penalty off the table could’ve been attractive even if he was innocent,” he said levelly.

  “Take it up with the legislature if you’re opposed to capital punishment. But to answer your question, Sonny wasn’t pressuring me.” She paused and lifted an eyebrow. “Annette Morris was.”

  “Did you know the district attorney leaned on Tory to overstate the DNA results at Tenley’s trial?”

  Saul’s head jerked up and he swiveled his chair away from his computer monitor to give Bodhi his full attention. “Meghan did what?”

  “Not Meghan, Annette Morris. Tory says Annette was adamant that she interpret the DNA profile as establishing that the odds of someone other than Tenley being the killer were 1 in 3 million, more than double the population of the entire county. And ten times the city population. I mean, think about that.”

  Saul’s nostrils flared. He closed eyes for a second before he choked out a strangled response. “Yes, I know the population statistics. But, no, I wasn’t aware the DA’s office was leaning on Tory.”

  “That’s why she called off the day of the trial. She says she was sick to her stomach, but it was more of a case of nerves than influenza.”

  Saul muttered darkly under his breath.

  “Do you want the good news?” Bodhi asked.

  “No, Bodhi. I’m only interested in news that’ll ruin my day. Bad news or no news, that’s my motto.”

  Bodhi flashed him a half-grin. “Tough. The good news is that Annette didn’t have much time to prep me when I stood in for Tory. I literally read the conclusion in Tory’s report, word for word. She didn’t follow-up with any cute questions, probably because she knew my answer would be ‘I don’t know.’ We spent most of my time on the stand going over my prepared testimony as to the cause of death.”

  Saul exhaled. “That is, in fact, good news. Did she try to shape your conclusions at all?”

  “Not that I recall. No more so than any prosecutor does. I remember the witness prep being unremarkable.”

  “Was Lee involved in this little plan of Annette’s?”

  “Tory and I both think not. Annette treated Roland as a glorified legal assistant. He didn’t have much of a role at the trial.”

  “Small mercies.”

  “Yeah. But it does raise the question of why she was willing to take the risk to get a conviction. I know the DNA evidence was the sexy part, but let’s not forget the box of cash. Isn’t that the most damning part?”

  Saul shook his head. “You wouldn’t have known this, but Penny Geoffries filed a motion in limine to keep that box full of money out of evidence and the judge granted. The jury wasn’t ever going to hear about that cash payment.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “Bad search. The police had an arrest warrant based on the DNA results, but they never bothered to get a search warrant.”

  “What a mess.”

  “It’s no messier than any other criminal case, and we both know it. The only difference is that this is the case where we’re turning over the rocks and finding the foul creatures that live underneath.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “But it does mean we need to try our darnedest to keep Giles Noor’s murder separate from the Raina Noor case. It’ll be bad for everyone involved if Tenley gets a new trial.”

  “Bad for everyone but Tenley, you mean.”

  Saul tightened his jaw. “Bodhi, so help me, don’t even think about going all non-attached Buddhist on me.”

  “I warned you I plan to follow where the truth leads.”

  Saul let out a great whoosh of breath. “That’s true, you did. And I retained you to explain Giles Noor’s death, not to rehash Raina Noor’s. Before you say it, yes, I know you can’t figure out one without better understanding the other. I get it. But please focus on the present, Bodhi. Please. I swear to you if you happen to turn up evidence that clears Tenley in the first murder, I’m not going to sit on it. I’ll go see that public defender myself. But please, just deal with the current headache instead of going off and poking under rocks with a stick.”

  Saul’s suffering was real. It was etched across his face in stark lines, and it rang in each word he spoke as he pleaded with Bodhi.

  “Okay. I hear you, and I get it. You have my word.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That said, I need to speak to Damon Tenley.”

  “What? No. Gilbert and Martin are meeting with him now. They’ll brief us. Besides, how does talking to Tenley fit in with what you just agreed to do?”

  “Saul, I’m not a mystic. I have the same training as you. The reason I’ve been able to solve these so-called unsolvable forensic mysteries is that I ask the dead to tell me their stories, then I listen.”

  “Sounds pretty mystical to me.”

  Bodhi shrugged. “You want an answer, don’t you?”

  “Sure. But, Damon Tenley’s off limits. So go commune with Giles Noor’s corpse. Do you want me to find out where he’s buried?”

  “Wait, Noor’s already been interred? Was he Jewish?”

  The Jewish faith required burial as soon as possible after death, and it discouraged autopsies. When Bodhi had worked at the medical examiner’s office, policy had been to expedite the autopsies when the deceased was an observant Jew. It had been Saul’s idea, but Sonny had grudgingly agreed, and the office had seen an increase in cooperation from the Jewish community.

  “Bingo. Mrs. Noor isn’t Jewish, but she insisted we follow the procedures for her husband. We had his autopsy completed by noon on Wednesday, and I believe he was buried later in the day—less than twenty-four hours after he died.”

  Bodhi frowned, remembering. “But I performed Raina Noor’s autopsy. I would’ve remembered it if had been expedited.”

  “Apparently, Giles wasn’t particularly devout. He was what I call a cultural Jew. But, according to the second Mrs. Noor, after they married, he grew increasingly religious.” Saul gave a philosophical shrug. “It happens. Especially after a loss like the one he suffered.”

  “I guess. It’s interesting Hope Noor didn’t share his faith. I wonder what the story is there?”

  “Hmm, I have no idea.”

  An idea niggled in the back of Bodhi’s mind. “You don’t have a problem with me talking to Hope Noor, do you?”

  A wave of relief broke across Saul’s face. “Now you’re cooking with gas. Yes, go talk to Hope Noor. Make some headway on this case.”

  “Great. Will do.” Bodhi smiled and gave a small wave goodbye.

  “Oh, hang on. Mona wanted me to invite you over for dinner one night this week. How about tomorrow?”

  “Sure. I’d love to.”

  “Great. We can leave from here. I’ll give you a ride home afterward. Unless you want to bring someone.”

  “Bring someone?”

  “A date, Bodhi. A lady friend. Or are you and your police chief exclusive?”

  Bodhi blinked. He hadn’t devoted much time to analyzing his relationship with Bette Clark. She was tied to Onatah, Illinois. He was tied to … nowhere. They hadn’t discussed a shared future. They’d spent their time together hi
king and stargazing; snowshoeing; and cooking and eating. He had no idea whether he considered them to be exclusive, let alone if Bette did. The topic had never come up.

  Saul coughed, pulling him back to the present.

  “Sorry. I was lost in thought.”

  “I noticed,” Saul said in a dry voice that hinted at amusement.

  “Uh, no plus one.”

  “Okay, then. It’ll be you, me, Mona, and the young Davidlings.”

  “Great.” Bodhi smiled absently and backed out of the office, occupied with thoughts of a tall, lean police chief with silvery locks, clear, sharp eyes, and a laugh like bourbon laced with honey.

  Chapter Eight

  Burton shifted his bulk in the molded plastic chair, searching in vain for a moderately comfortable position. He stole a glance at Chrys, who appeared to find the prison visiting room furniture more than adequate. That, he thought sourly, is the difference between being a six-foot-two, two-hundred-pound middle-aged man and a spry young woman.

  Just how youthful was she? He wondered. In recent years, he’d noticed the rookies were getting younger and younger. He was pretty sure the department was now recruiting them directly out of middle school. It was the only possible explanation.

  She cut her eyes toward him and spoke out of the side of her mouth. “I still can’t believe you told the widow about Tenley.”

  Oh, good. She wanted to put this downtime to use arguing.

  “She asked for an update, Chrys. I felt she deserved one. She’s going to keep it to herself.”

  Chrys laughed softly. “The chivalrous Burton Gilbert rides to the rescue of yet another damsel in distress.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” His tone came out gruffer than he’d intended, but screw it.

  Her expression clouded with worry. “Nothing. I’m sorry, Burton. I didn’t mean anything by it. Why don’t we drop it?”

  Drop it? Not a chance. If the book on him around the squad was he was some fuddy-duddy dinosaur who treated the ladies with kid gloves and a side of sexism, he darn well needed to know. Especially these days, in this climate.

  He was opening his mouth to press her, when a corrections officer banged into the room with Tenley in tow.

  “Detectives,” the officer said. “The warden said to set you folks up in a private room but we don’t have one free. We can keep this room cleared for another twenty or thirty minutes, though.”

  He propelled Tenley into a free chair across the table from Burton and Chrys. Tenley sat down, leaned back, and stretched out his legs under the table. He grinned lazily.

  “That’s fine,” Chrys told the guard. “As long as we’re not keeping a bunch of families waiting.”

  He shrugged. “Ever since the state started the virtual visiting program, in-person visits have dropped off by a lot. Can’t say I blame folks. Who wants to drive out to this hellhole and go through the pat down and search just to sit in one of those miserable chairs and try to make themselves heard over the din of all the other visits when they can have a video visit from the comfort of some satellite office and actually hear what their inmate’s saying. Right, Tenley?”

  Tenley shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t get any visitors—real or virtual.”

  The guard twisted his mouth in acknowledgment and nodded. Burton blinked. He’d spent enough time in the state’s various correctional facilities to recognize the grudging … respect was the only word for it … between the officer and the inmate. It came as something as a surprise. Usually, lifers like Tenley mellowed out at some point in their second decade of incarceration, realized this was their new home and made the best of it.

  But Tenley’d only been locked up for a little under six years. Burton had expected him to still be seething, making his bones, and playing the tough guy. Apparently not.

  The next words from the correctional officer took away any doubt. “The duty lieutenant said there’s no reason to have him cuffed during the interview unless you guys feel it’s necessary.”

  He held the handcuff key in his right hand, waiting for the go ahead to unlock the bracelets around Tenley’s’ wrists.

  Beside him, Burton felt Chrys’ surprise.

  “We’re not worried about this lowlife,” he told the guard. “Go ahead and take them off.”

  Chrys stiffened. He kept his posture relaxed. They’d checked their guns on their way in, so it wasn’t as if Tenley could overwhelm them and grab a weapon. And he was pretty sure the interview was unlikely to devolve into a hostage situation with three law enforcement personnel and one inmate. It was better not to show any sign of intimidation or concern.

  The guard nodded and Tenley held out his wrists. After the cuffs came off, Tenley made a show of rubbing his skin. Chrys rolled her eyes.

  Burton glanced up at the guard. “Are you planning to stick around?”

  “Yes, sir. Unless you want me to leave. But given how open the area is, protocol would be to stay.”

  “Yeah, find yourself a seat somewhere nearby and get comfortable. I don’t expect we’ll be here long.”

  Tenley cocked his head. “You drove all the way out here for a quickie?”

  It was addressed to both of them, but his eyes lingered on Chrys.

  Burton tensed, ready to tear into Tenley, but stopped himself. Protecting the female detective sitting next to him would make her seem weak and play into her comment about his white-knight complex. He gritted his teeth.

  Meanwhile, Chrys bared hers. “Let’s get something straight, Damon. Detective Gilbert and I didn’t come out here to brighten up your dull existence. I don’t give a crap if you never get visitors. And I’m not impressed that Officer O’Hagen over there and the warden don’t think you needed to be restrained. They’re comparing you to a population of lying, thieving, raping, drug-dealing, murderous dirtbags. Me? I compare you to something I’d scrape off the bottom of my shoe. And you’re the less appealing of the two.”

  Tenley lifted his eyebrows, but Burton noticed he also sat up straighter.

  He guessed they’d established who’d be playing good cop and who’d be bad cop during this interview.

  He gave Tenley an easy smile. “Sorry about my partner. She’s got a bit of a temper. You know how the ladies can be.”

  Tenley narrowed his eyes, unsure how to respond.

  “Nah, he didn’t kill Raina Noor to shut her up. That was about the money. Right, Damon? All in a day’s work.” Chrys interjected.

  Tenley flushed. He caught his top lip between his front teeth and bit down.

  “What’s the matter, Damon? Does Detective Martin have it all wrong?”

  “Yes,” he growled. “She does.”

  “So, set us straight. It wasn’t murder for hire?”

  Tenley closed his eyes, and Burton watched the muscles in his face slacken. The inmate inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled softly through his mouth. As he repeated the breathing sequence, Burton shot Officer O’Hagen a questioning look.

  “Mindfulness meditation. They teach it to them as an anger management tool.” He shrugged.

  “We shoulda sent that Buddhist coroner out here,” Chrys whispered out of the side of her mouth.

  After another in-breath and out-breath, Tenley opened his eyes and cleared his throat.

  “I was paid. I didn’t kill her for the money. Or out of any personal animosity.”

  “Personal animosity—did you eat a dictionary?” Chrys badgered him.

  He didn’t react.

  Burton chimed in, “Okay, if you didn’t have a grudge against Raina Noor, and the money was just a nice side benefit, why’d you do it? Did you do it to get at her husband?”

  Tenley frowned and shook his head.

  “What, then? You’re just a violent psychopath who did it for kicks?” Chrys pressed him.

  “I did it as a favor for someone.” He blurted the words. Then he clamped his jaw shut and stared at them, wide-eyed, as if he was as surprised as they were to hear the words
come out.

  “A favor for who?” Burton asked.

  “Whom,” Chrys corrected him. “Don’t forget you’re talking to a learned professor, detective.”

  Tenley’s expression flattened.

  “Hey, is that what it was about, Damon? Were you jealous of Professor Noor? He was a respected academic with a gorgeous wife, nice house in Squirrel Hill, all the things you didn’t have?”

  “No. I told you it was a favor. And I’m not saying anything more about it.” He crossed his arms over his chest to drive home the point.

  Burton waited a beat. “This person you did the favor for—they really hated the Noors though, right? I mean, they must’ve if they asked you to kill the wife. Here’s the real question: did they hate them enough to wait seven years to finish the job?”

  Tenley lowered his chin and pitched forward, squinting hard. “Wait. Noor was killed?”

  “Murdered, actually. Bludgeoned to death with a bronze paperweight while he lay in bed—is this ringing any bells, yet?” Chrys asked.

  Tenley shook his head like a toddler refusing peas. “No, no. You’re lying.”

  “Do you honestly think we have nothing better to do with our time, Damon?”

  “But … who—?”

  “Believe me, if we knew that, we wouldn’t be sitting in this hellhole with you. Despite what you think, this isn’t a social call.”

  Tenley turned his attention from Chrys and wheeled toward Burton, wild-eyed. “I don’t know who killed that guy. I didn’t even know he was dead. You gotta believe me.”

  “See, that’s the thing. We think you do know. The way we see it, with you in a cage, the most likely suspect is … well, you’re no dummy, you can figure out the rest.”

  “What? No, I don’t know anyone who would—”

  “Sure you do. Your partner. The person who paid you twenty grand to do Raina Noor.”

  Tenley laughed. “No way. You guys are way off base.”

  Burton eyeballed the inmate.

  Tenley’s hunched shoulders unfolded and loosened, and his tight, furrowed forehead smoothed out. “Way off base,” he repeated gleefully.