Mariah Stewart - Last Words

“Well, you said bold, he wanted to show you bold,” the ME said.

“That was my initial reaction, too. But I’m not so sure…” Mia told them.

“Not sure about what?” Beck asked.

“Not sure this is it. The big move. I’m wondering if this isn’t more like wagging a finger in your face. I expected something…I don’t know, more dramatic.” Mia frowned.

“I think for Hal, finding a dead naked woman wrapped up like a sandwich on the deck of his boat was pretty dramatic,” Beck said.

“I’m sure it was. This just feels like, I don’t know, staging, maybe. I could be wrong. Let’s hope I am.” She slipped on the plastic gloves and said, “Where would you like to start?”

“Is it beneath an FBI agent to dust for prints?” he asked. “Do you have a problem playing CSI?”

Mia made a face and grabbed the kit from his hands. “Are you kidding? I can dust with the best of them.”

Beck vacuumed the deck but wasn’t willing to bet that anything of any use would turn up in the bag. Though he was hoping for some fibers or hair, he wasn’t optimistic. Just as he wasn’t hopeful Mia would find any prints that would lead them anywhere. He was certain the killer spent as little time on the Shady Lady as possible, wore gloves and left nothing of himself behind. Just as he’d left nothing of himself on the other bodies they’d found.

“Crafty son of a bitch,” Beck said under his breath.

“What?” Mia stood up and turned around.

“I said he was very careful.”

“You betcha’,” she agreed. “So far, I’ve found prints on the railing, but I’ll bet my life savings they’re Hal’s. Or maybe one of ours-yours, Viv’s, mine, Meyer’s, even. This is what you grab onto when you’re hopping onto the boat. I did it myself. But there’s no way this guy would be careless enough to leave a print. My guess is that he wiped down anything he may have touched.”

“People watch too damned much TV,” he said. “They think they know how to clean a crime scene as well as any cop. And in many cases, they do. This guy, for one. I don’t see a damned thing. Not even a footprint. I’m betting he came on board in his stocking feet.”

He stood and waved to the ME.

“Might as well do your thing, Viv.”

“Give me just a minute more,” Mia told him. “I think we need to check the cabin.”

“I’ll do that.” He removed the powder and brush from the kit, but hesitated at the tape.

“You finished with this?” he asked, holding it up.

“I will be in a minute. I’m afraid I’ve gotten all I’m going to get.” She stood up and rubbed the small of her back, then reached for the tape. She lifted the impression from the last bit of railing, then transferred the image to a fingerprint card. She handed the tape back to Beck.

He took it with him into the cabin, and when he emerged ten minutes later, he had a small stack of evidence cards under his arm.

“This should do it,” he told Mia, “though I suspect most of the prints we have belong to Hal.”

“We can print ourselves when we get back to the station for elimination, but I’m sure you’re right.” She began to repack the kit. “I certainly don’t expect any surprises.”

“Did you take any prints from the tarp?” Beck asked.

“No.” Mia straightened up. “I’ll do it now.”

“What do you use here for fabric? Ninhydrin, silver nitrate…what?” She poked into the kit and found the silver nitrate. “Ah, silver nitrate, it is.”

She looked up from the large black bag and asked, “Want to give me a hand? You spray, I’ll photograph?”

“Sure.”

She took the camera from the bag, then stepped back so Beck could get what he needed. As he sprayed the solution on the canvas tarp, several reddish-brown prints appeared, which Mia photographed immediately, before they faded in the hot sun. When they were finished, Beck packed the evidence they’d gathered along with the camera, and carried it onto the dock. Since he’d walked to the scene from the municipal building, he’d have to carry it back with him.

“She’s all yours, Viv,” he told the medical examiner.

“Thanks, Beck.” A somber Vivien dropped onto the deck with one of her assistants.

“I’m going back to the office.” Beck turned to Mia and held up the evidence bag.

“I’ll walk back with you.” She stood back and watched respectfully as Vivien directed the careful transfer of the body from the deck of the boat into a body bag. “There really isn’t anything to do here except wait for the press to show up.”

She fell in step with Beck, but stopped halfway across the parking lot.

“Crap. I changed in the ladies’ room at Singer’s and left the bag with my other clothes there. Give me a minute to run inside and grab it?”

“Can you make it fast?”

“Sure.” Mia jogged up to the door and went inside.

She was back in less five minutes. Beck started walking as soon as he saw the door open, so she had to hurry to catch up with him.

“Sorry, Todd was there. I hadn’t met him before. I told him you were trying to get in touch with Lisa, but hadn’t been able to. He said the last time he spoke with her was around an hour ago, but her phone was having trouble keeping a charge, said the battery needed to be replaced. Said he’s taking their kids to his sister’s in Annapolis today to spend the week and he checked in with Lisa to make sure their bags were packed and ready to go, since they’ll be leaving before she gets home from work.”

“I guess Lisa will just head back to the station when she’s finished. In the meantime, we’ll take a look at these prints.”

“You expect to find anything that will point us in the right direction?”

“No. But I want to make certain, get that piece out of the way.”

They completed the walk to Kelly’s Point Drive in silence. When they reached the building, Mia held the door for Beck, and once inside, he stopped to exchange a few words with Garland and Mia went directly to the conference room.

The first thing Beck did when he reached his office was check the fingerprints Mia had lifted from the boat against the prints he had on file for Hal. As suspected, the majority of the prints matched. He printed himself and checked against the remaining prints, and found two that matched his own. That left two other prints unmatched.

He went into the conference room and asked Mia for her prints. One matched a print that was lifted from the rail, which made sense. She’d grabbed onto it as she’d jumped to the deck that morning.

One down, this one from the tarp.

He was packing up envelopes holding the cards with the matched prints when Hal came in.

“You okay?” Beck studied Hal’s face.

“Damnable thing, Beck.” Hal shook his head and lowered himself into the nearest chair. “Damnable.”

“I asked if you were okay.”

“Yeah.” Hal got up and walked into the kitchen. “Want water, soda?”

“Nothing, thanks.”

Hal returned for a moment and stood in the doorway taking the lid off a bottle of spring water. He took a long drink, then asked, “You hear from Lisa?”

“No. She must have found someone at the gym who recognized Holly Sheridan or Mindy Kenneher, maybe she’s taking some statements.” Beck tapped his fingers on the desk. “Todd told Mia that Lisa’s having trouble with her phone losing the charge. Which would explain why she’s not getting our calls.”

“Damn cell phones. I’m forever forgetting to recharge my phone, then it makes that beeping sound in the middle of the night to remind me. Drives me nuts.” Hal nodded in the direction of the evidence envelopes on Beck’s desk. “You find anything there worth mentioning?”