Malice In Wonderland (Book 6) Page 3

  Hank’s eyes started watering the second he stepped in the room, and he tried valiantly to get a steady recording, but the sneezes took him by surprise.

  “God bless you,” Coil said, laughing.

  “Thank you,” Hank said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. “What is that horrible smell? My sinuses are going crazy.”

  “Smells like a hospital,” Coil said.

  Hank blew his nose and went back to recording. “I think that’s the problem,” Hank said. “You think Buck lived with that smell day in and day out? This is his own personal paradise. Bedroom, office, small kitchen and bar area, and easy access to the pool. He probably spends most of his time here. I think the antiseptic smell is just covering what lies beneath.”

  “You always did have a nose like a bloodhound,” Coil said. “Too bad you have to suffer for the good sense of smell.”

  Hank stuffed the handkerchief back into his pants pocket and went back to recording.

  “Let’s get this over with before we end up having to deal with Ritzo and Kraken.”

  Hank agreed. He aimed the camera in one corner of the bedroom and slowly scanned the phone from left to right until he reached the opposite side of where he’d begun. The corpse remained on the bed, waiting for the medical examiner to transport it.

  Hank finally zeroed in on Buck’s body. He looked peaceful in death. Like he’d had too much to drink and decided to lay down for a little nap. He was dapper in white linen shorts, and a red, white and blue polo shirt. Hazard Texas, Co was embroidered on the sleeve. Hank noticed Buck’s sandals were on the floor next to the bed. One shoe looked like it had been kicked under the bed. More than likely, the EMTs had done it when they’d come in to check the body, but it was something to remember.

  From what he could observe without disturbing the body, there were no signs of struggle or trauma. There was something that niggled at the edges of his mind, but he couldn’t grasp it at the moment.

  What was it? Maybe it was the way his body was positioned. His body was in an S-shape, or a semi-fetal position. Laid on his right side, his head rested on his right hand, while his left arm was stretched behind him. Both legs were drawn up into his chest as if he were cold. It was a natural sleeping position, and one that wasn’t disturbed as he’d lost his life.

  Except for his left arm, and his shoe.

  “What’s bugging you, buddy?” Coil asked.

  “Call me crazy, but it seems there’s a whole lot of hoopla over Buck’s death. You’ve got a seventy-something year old man, who I’m sure had been drinking, and he comes in to lay down for a bit and dies. Maybe he had a heart attack? There are no signs of struggle or an attack. So why are they jumping to murder?”

  “I thought you paranoid murder cops always took deaths as a homicide and worked it backwards until proving that it wasn’t murder,” Coil said.

  “We do, but Kraken and Ritzo would have seen the exact same scene that you and I are looking at now. And they’ve already determined it’s murder, and that Heather is their prime suspect? Something definitely seems off. It’s just sloppy.”

  “So, you’re not leaning toward murder?”

  “I’m not leaning toward anything until we get a report from the medical examiner to confirm one way or the other. Taking statements and eye-witness testimony is all that can be done until then. Ritzo and Kraken should know that. But they’ve always done police work with another agenda in mind. We’ve just got to figure out what it is.”

  “We need to get out of here,” Coil said. “I’d hate to see Officer Perez pay the price for being helpful.”

  Hank nodded as he went about taking pictures of the room, and then of the bed, finally zooming in on the body. He even photographed Buck’s sandals. Just out of curiosity he peeked beneath the bed, but there was nothing to be found. Hank was thorough and liked to look at crime scenes as a system of concentric circles. He moved from the biggest ones on the outside and narrowed his search toward the inside. Too many people focused on the body and missed the clues that lay all around them.

  Hank jammed his nose into the crook of his arm as he sneezed again.

  “I think this is about as much as I can stand,” Hank said, wheezing. “I got everything I need.”

  “Well, at least you’ll smell nice for Agatha.”

  Chapter Five

  Agatha saw Hank and Coil coming out from Buck’s private wing and breathed a sigh of relief. She’d had her fill of talking to the rich and vapid.

  She felt her heart roll over in her chest at the sight of Hank. He wore khakis and a navy polo with the FBI Academy logo over the breast, and she knew he’d purposefully worn it to give him a bit of clout when dealing with local law enforcement. She loved seeing him in his element. He might be retired, but it was obvious he’d loved what he’d done, and the air of authority came back to him with the ease of breathing.

  Everyone on the patio was worth ten times more money than Hank would ever earn in a lifetime, but no one could match what he’d given to this country in the way of keeping sheltered people like them safe from the violent wolves waiting just outside of their gated communities. Hank was a hero, and he was her hero.

  “Heard from Heather?” Agatha asked.

  She reached for her cell phone, and Hank handed it to her so she could see there were no missed calls for herself. She was anxious and worried about Heather. There was work to be done, and her best friend’s freedom might just depend upon it.

  “Find anything?” she asked

  “Well,” Coil said. “He’s dead alright, but there’s no sign of a foul play. The medical examiner is going to have to call this one.”

  “But what about Heather? How long can they keep her locked up?”

  “They’ve got seventy-two hours to either charge her with something or let her go?” he said. “I called for the police chief, but the administrative officer said they’d pass the message along.”

  “What do you think that means?” Agatha asked.

  “It means we’ve got seventy-two hours to clear Heather, or Ritzo and Kraken are going to trump up charges against an innocent woman,” Hank said. “That’s what they do best.”

  “That’s three whole days,” Agatha said. “She won’t last three days in jail.”

  “It’s what the law allows to give them time to put their facts together. Or not, but either way, that’s a long time to hope Heather doesn’t walk into their trap,” Hank said. “I don’t know if she can keep her mouth shut that long. She needs to lawyer up fast.”

  “Maybe you guys will have more luck with the crowd than I did,” Agatha said. “The women have been licking their lips like you’re the salt on one of their fancy margaritas.

  “It’s cause we have charm,” Coil said, giving her a grin. “Hank and I are like chisels and you’re like a sledgehammer. It’s because you don’t get out much.”

  Agatha narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s because the people in my books do what I tell them to do and don’t talk back. Hank is enough of a people person for both of us.”

  “You and Hank are definitely made for each other,” Coil said dryly, and then looked toward Officer Perez. “Hey, Perez. You mind if we ask these folks a few questions?”

  “Might as well,” she said. They’re all speculating with each other anyway.”

  “Let’s focus on the women,” Hank said. “Whatever that scent was that was being pumped into the room isn’t something a man would think of to use for cover.”

  “Good point,” Coil said. “We’ll split up. You and Agatha take the left side and I’ll take the right.”

  Coil headed off toward a group of women that looked like they wanted to eat him for breakfast.

  “Protect me,” Hank said, pulling her close. “These kind of women are terrifying.”

  “I’ll protect you, big guy,” Agatha said.

  He shot her one of his rare grins, and she leaned into him. And then they headed toward another group of women who didn’t look nearly a
s excited to see her tagging along with Hank.

  “Right into the lion’s den,” Agatha murmured.

  “What?” Hank asked.

  “Welcome to the ex-wives club.”

  Hank only looked slightly terrified as he stepped up to the tight-knit group. “Hi ladies, mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  On closer inspection, each of the women looked so much like Heather it made Agatha gasp with surprise. Some a little older and some a little younger, but the similarities were unmistakable.

  Agatha knew it was best to let Hank carry the ball in this group. Exes could be vicious to each other and anyone outside their circle.

  The oldest, and obviously more experienced of the group, looked Hank up and down, and a slow smile spread across her lips. “Well,” she said, her voice sultry. “Hello, officer.”

  “Umm,” Hank said with a deer in the headlights look on his face.

  Agatha almost felt sorry for him.

  “Yes, officer,” another of the Heather’s said. “Ask us anything. Anything at all. We’d love to help you.”

  “I appreciate your cooperation,” Hank said, and then coughed to clear his throat. “We’re gathering information about Buck Hazard’s death.”

  “My poor Bucky,” another of the women said. “I can’t believe he’s gone.” Tears pooled in her baby blues and she fanned her eyes with her hand to keep the tears from falling. Her blonde hair was teased impossibly high, and her American flag bikini top impossibly small, though Agatha was grateful she’d at least tied a sheer red sarong around her waist.

  “You were close to Buck?” Hank asked.

  All three of the women giggled, and then remembered they were supposed to be sad. It was an odd dynamic because they behaved liked friends, yet there had to be too much history between them for them to actually be friends.

  “Sure, honey,” the oldest said. She was wearing red sequined shorts and a strapless top with long white fringe across the front. “We all know Buck in the biblical sense. We were all married to him. I’m number two.”

  “I’m five,” the other one said. She wore a bright orange tube dress that barely covered the pertinent parts and a pair of eleven hundred dollar Jimmy Choo gladiator sandals. Agatha only knew that because she’d had to look them up for her latest book.

  “And I’m six,” said the one in the tiny bikini.

  “And it doesn’t bother you to be here together?” Hank asked.

  “Honey,” number two said. “We’re all set for the rest of our lives. We owe that man a parade. Nothing to get upset about. We all knew what we were getting into. Men like Buck are unique. He’s a brilliant businessman, but a lousy husband and father. But he knows it and accepts it as part of a flawed personality. That’s why our settlements are so generous. If Buck chooses you to marry, then consider yourself lucky.”

  “Some of us are luckier than others,” number six said, pouting prettily.

  Number two smirked. “What can I say? Pop out a couple of kids and the pot goes higher. It’s not my fault Buck wised up and got fixed before he married you.”

  “Rotten luck,” six said. “Everyone before me got at least one kid and a bonus out of the deal. Except Heather, and that’s just cause she couldn’t have kids, and he gave her extra because of that.”

  Her pout turned into annoyance, and a little line appeared on her forehead.

  “It’s old news Monica,” number two said. “No use getting upset about it every time it comes up. Last I checked you were cozying up to some ball bearing billionaire. Maybe you can work a better settlement.”

  Monica pursed her lips and appealed to Hank. “Buck would add an extra million to the settlement per kid, plus take care of private schools, nannies, and all that stuff,” she said, waving her manicured hand. “I’m just saying, fair is fair.”

  “Did you all see Buck tonight?” Hank asked, keeping them on course with his questions.

  The women looked between each other, as if trying to decide who should speak for all of them, and Hank narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

  “Let’s start with you,” he said to number two. “What’s your name?”

  “Oh, I’m Lorraine,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes. “Pleased to meet you.”

  She was silent with an expectant look in her eyes and Hank prodded her again. “You saw Buck tonight? Spoke to him?”

  “Oh, sure,” she said, flushing slightly. “I spoke with him when I arrived. He said he was glad to see me. It’s probably been fifteen years since the last time. He looked as good as ever, even for a man his age.”

  “What time did you speak with him?”

  “Umm…” she said, tapping a long red nail against her cheek. “The car picked me up from the airport at 4:30, so I guess I got here around five.”

  “Where’d you fly in from?” he asked.

  “Houston,” she said. “The social scene is quite exciting. Buck bought me a ranch after the divorce. I always loved the horses, even when I no longer loved him, and he knew it.”

  “There were no hard feelings between you?” Hank asked.

  Lorraine smiled beautifully, and Agatha could see the barely discernable crow’s feet at her eyes. She’d had good work done, and Agatha wondered exactly how old she was since she was Buck’s number two. She was probably in her fifties.

  “Honey, of course there were hard feelings,” she said. “We’d have the best fights. And then we’d make love. Fight and make love. And then he decided to make love to Janet, who was wife number three. She was eighteen and very nubile. Buck always liked them young. So that was the end of our marriage. But that was a long time ago. My life has been good because of Buck. Divorcing him was the best thing I ever did.”

  “As I understand,” Hank said. “Buck held this Fourth of July bash every year. Did you get an invite every year, or was this a special occasion?”

  “This was the first invite for me,” Monica said. “Of course. We’ve only been divorced for a year, so it was nice to have a little space from Candy.” She rolled her eyes at the other woman’s name.

  “Candy?” Hank asked.

  “Number seven,” Monica said. “She’s the current Mrs. Hazard. And I guess the final.”

  It was clear from the looks on the former Mrs. Hazards’ faces that Candy would never be issued an invitation to their little group. It was also clear that wife number six had not come to peace with the divorce like wife number two had. But Monica was still very young. She was probably only mid-twenties.

  Monica looked like she should be enjoying sorority parties instead of being a member of the ex-wives club. She didn’t have the polish of the older women, and where the others were calm and cool and composed, Monica kept fiddling with the cross that hung around her neck.

  “Did Buck give you that cross?” Hank asked Monica.

  She looked down at it as if she couldn’t figure out how it had ended up in her hand. “He gave it to me on our wedding day,” she said. “Buck was a very religious man. Except for his inability to remain faithful to his wives.”

  She hadn’t noticed before Hank had pointed it out, but on closer inspection, all the women were wearing an identical cross. He turned to the one in the red tube dress. Number five.

  “I’m sorry,” Hank said. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Theresa,” number five said. Her orange dress was out of place among all the red, white, and blue, but she didn’t seem to care. She seemed quieter than the other two, her eyes more thoughtful, more intelligent.

  “You wear the same cross,” Hank said. “Buck gave it to you as well?”

  “Just one of the many perks of being Mrs. Hazard,” she said. “As you can see, we’ve all got them. When Buck called and said he wanted me to come, that he had something he wanted to say to me, I put it back on for sentimental reasons. I put on this dress,” she said, outlining her voluptuous figure with her hands. “Orange is his favorite color. I thought he might want to get back together. I wouldn’t have, of
course.” She was fast to reassure the others. “The past is the past.”

  “Do you think that’s what Buck wanted?” Hank asked. “To reconcile?”

  It was Lorraine who answered this time, and her honeyed Texas drawl was replaced with a hard edge of anger.

  “Who knows what the heck Buck wanted. He invited us all here for a reason, without telling us the others were coming. Buck could be a charming son of a gun, and he was impossible to say no to. But I can speak for all of us when I say I’m tired of getting screwed over by Buck Hazard.”

  Chapter Six

  Hank noticed Coil motioning for them, so he thanked the ladies for their time, and he and Agatha went to meet him by the pool.

  “Wow,” Agatha said as they put distance between them. “There’s a hotbed of undercurrents in that little group. What do you make out of it?”

  “That hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” Hank said.

  “He cheated on all of them with a younger model of themselves,” Agatha said. “I’m sure that caused some issues. Even Heather has struggled with insecurity and her looks since Buck left her for Theresa. If you ask me, it’s creepy how much they all look the same.”

  “It definitely makes one wonder about Buck,” Hank agreed.

  “You said Heather was invited because he wanted to tell her something, so that fits with the other’s stories. He texts her for a meet, but by the time she went to see him, he was dead. It makes you wonder who else he texted before her. Was he going in order? And what was so important that he had to have all his ex-wives back under his roof for the first time ever?

  “Money?” Agatha asked.

  “Or maybe power?” Hank added. “Maybe Buck was the kind of man who liked to jerk the strings and watch people dance.”

  Coil was standing alone by the pool, checking his phone when they walked up. “How’d you make out?” Hank asked him.

  “Not too great,” Coil said. “I talked to a few of Buck’s hunting buddies. They all said he was in the best shape of his life and the new wife was keeping him young. Of course, they said Buck had said that about each of his wives. The hunting buddies outlasted all of his marriages.”