indicated he had placed the barrel of the Glock into his mouth, which had internalized the explosion of gunpowder to the point that it distorted his features. He looked down at the weapon, noting that it was still cocked and ready to fire, something the pistol did automatically whenever it was discharged.
“There’s still a live round in the chamber. As soon as it’s dusted for prints let’s remember to put the safety on.”
“You should come and see this, Harry.” Vicky was standing next to a computer that was set up on a small desk. Even from across the room he could see a message printed on the screen.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s a confession. It covers all three murders-Darlene, the cowboy, and the Waldo kid.”
Harry walked to the computer, but before he started reading he checked a nearby printer, making sure it was loaded with paper. Using a pencil to move the mouse he hit the print tab. “I want a hard copy, just in case we lose what’s on the screen.”
The printer started whirring as Harry began reading Nick’s confession. It essentially followed Vicky’s theory that Nick had fallen in love with Darlene Beckett only to find that she cheated on him every chance she got. He began following her, the confession said, and when he came upon her on a small beach in Tarpon Springs he lost his temper and killed both her and her lover. He had then moved Darlene’s body to the Brooker Creek Preserve to make certain county homicide detectives were called in to handle the case. Later, he learned that Bobby Joe had also been romantically involved with Darlene, and that Harry Doyle was pressing him for information. He was certain that Darlene had told Bobby Joe about him-about their affair and subsequent threats he had made against her. He went to see Bobby Joe and tried to coerce him into silence. But he soon realized how weak the young minister was and decided that sooner or later he would spill everything he knew to save himself. Bobby Joe had left him no choice. The confession ended with Nick’s name printed at the bottom of the two-page statement.
Harry walked back to the body without saying a word. Vicky followed, a quizzical look on her face.
Harry removed the camera from his crime scene case and took photos of the body, the gun, and the blood splatter on the ceiling. He then began to carefully search the body.
“Harry, talk to me,” Vicky said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Harry turned to the sound of the front door opening. Jim Morgan stood in the doorway staring at the body. He looked shaken and Harry wondered if it were due to the fact that he had never seen this type of head wound before, or if it was because he was seeing it on a brother cop, someone he had known.
“I called Jim and told him what happened,” Vicky said.
“Put on gloves and shoe coverings before you come in,” Harry warned. He looked at Morgan closely. “If you think you’re going to be sick don’t come in here.”
Vicky went to Harry’s case and retrieved the necessary materials and brought them to Morgan. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Morgan nodded absently. “Yeah, I’ll be alright. I just feel responsible, like I helped push him into this.”
“If you want to stay in homicide you better change that thinking,” Harry snapped. “This state executes people. You can’t do your job if you’re going to worry about people ending up dead.” He watched Morgan nod a weak agreement and turned back to his search of Nick Benevuto’s body.
Harry removed and bagged all the items in his pockets; checked his wallet and bagged it as well. Vicky stood at his side writing each item in her notebook. Harry then began a close examination of Nick’s clothing, carefully searching for any hairs or fibers he might want to point out to the forensic team that was now on its way. Nick was dressed in a T-shirt and baggy khaki cargo shorts. His feet were bare.
Harry caught a glimpse of something in Nick’s gray hair. He leaned in closer to get a better look, holding his breath to keep away the smell of blood and brain matter.
“What is it?” Vicky asked.
“A feather,” Harry said.
“Is it from the chair?”
Harry looked at the chair. “No. The chair’s filled with foam.”
“What do you think it means?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I don’t like it.”
Harry began walking around the room, taking a mental picture of his surroundings. “How did you find the body?” he asked Vicky.
“It was my turn on the surveillance. Jim had done the first six-hour shift and I came in and took over about five a.m. We figured we’d get our shifts out of the way first so it wouldn’t interfere with other stuff we had to follow up on. Anyway, about seven-thirty this neighbor starts banging on Nick’s door, but he doesn’t answer. After she leaves, I went up to see what the problem was and I hear loud music coming from inside-I mean really loud, louder than any adult is going to want to listen to, and certainly nothing a person could sleep through. At that point I knocked too, and got nothing. So I asked the manager to open the door. As soon as it swung back the smell hit me and I knew. I went in, saw him, checked his pulse- pretty needlessly-turned off the CD that was playing, and called you. Then I secured the scene, radioed in a report, asked for uniform backup, and notified forensics.”
Harry looked around the room again, found the location of the CD player. He didn’t touch the machine, or any of its settings, leaving that for the CSI team. “The CD in there is the one that was playing when you came in?”
“Yes, it is.” A note of concern crossed Vicky’s face.
“What is it?” Harry asked.
Vicky shook her head. “It’s gospel music. I just never figured Nick for gospel.”
Harry went to the cabinet that held Nick’s other CDs and began looking through them. “There’s no other gospel here,” he said.
“That doesn’t prove anything in itself,” Vicky said.
Harry let it go and began to look through the apartment. Nick had picked it up considerably since his earlier visit. He entered Nick’s bedroom and immediately noticed that the television set opposite the bed was on and in a paused position. He recognized the format as a pay-per-view movie. He located the remote and using a pencil hit the play button. The TV restarted a Bruce Willis film that Harry had seen. Nick had been almost halfway through the film when he’d hit the pause button.
He turned and saw Vicky and Jim in the bedroom doorway. “He was watching a pay-per-view film and was halfway through it.”
Vicky nodded. “So that means he paused the film, got up, went into the living room, wrote out a confession, turned on the CD with the volume way up to cover the sound of a shot, and then sat down and blew his brains out. Doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it?”
“What do you mean?” Jim asked. “Nobody came in here during the six hours I was watching.”
“Well, about five-thirty I did drive up to that all-night gas station to take a pee.” She looked at Harry and Jim in turn. “Hey, I can’t pee in a bottle like you guys can.”
“So you were gone how long?” Harry asked.
“Fifteen, twenty minutes tops.”
Harry turned to Jim. “And you’re certain nobody could have gotten in while you were outside?”
“Sure, it’s possible if they came in and went out through a rear window. We were concerned about Nick leaving with evidence, so I was positioned where I could see his front door and his car. I wasn’t worried about anybody climbing in.”
“Did you talk to the neighbor who was knocking on the door?” he asked Vicky.
“No. There hasn’t been time.”
“Let’s do it now. Jim, you stay on the front door, make sure nobody comes inside except the CSI team. When the uniforms get here tell them to secure the scene, including Nick’s car in the parking lot. Show them which one it is.”
“You got it,” Jim said.
The neighbor’s door was answered by a woman in her mid-thirties, who looked as though she had not had a good night’s sleep. She was a tall, slender blonde with large, clearly augmented breasts, and Harry wondered how many times Nick had hit on her during the time they’d been neighbors. The woman gave her name as Terry Hogan and said she had lived in her condo for three years and had known Nick well.
“Yeah, that was me pounding on his door,” she said. “All of a sudden this music started, like real loud, you know. And it wasn’t even dawn yet. I tried calling him, I mean he’d given me his number and all, but I couldn’t get
