Carol O’Connell - Shell Game

„So there’s no way this could be murder.“ Riker pulled out his notebook.

„Definitely not.“ Slope was somewhat irritated, perhaps because this was also something that Mallory already knew. „No sign of a struggle, no bruising or defensive wounds. And his last needle puncture is consistent with injection by his own hand. He’s probably the only one who could’ve found a good vein in that arm.“

„What about AIDS?“ Riker’s pen hovered over a clean page, though he doubted there would be anything worth writing down. „Maybe a suicidal overdose?“

„No,“ said Slope. „I’m guessing he came into money recently. The heroin was a good grade. He was probably accustomed to cut-down drugs laced with crap. Help me roll him.“

Riker pocketed his useless pen and notebook, then pulled on a pair of plastic gloves, not wanting to touch the dead flesh. He had levels of squeamishness that depended on the freshness of a corpse, and this one was way past ripe. Why couldn’t Mallory do this? It was her damn junkie.

When the corpse lay facedown, the marking on the upper back was exposed. It was a uniform pattern of crisscrossing lines within the hard edge of a rectangle.

„Now these marks are postmortem,“ said Slope. „But made close to the time of death and before the body was moved. Might be a metal grate for a floor vent. You match that pattern and you’ll know where he died. I figure the body was moved at least twenty-four hours after death.“

„So the only criminal charge would be mutilation of a corpse,“ said Riker. „That’s it?“

„That’s the one odd note.“ Slope handed Mallory the arrow, bagged and tagged as evidence. „The chest was punctured days after the boy died. An accidental death staged as a murder – I call that interesting.“

„I call it misdirection,“ said Mallory. „Why don’t we sit on the autopsy findings for a few days?“

„Fine. You get me some paperwork to make that legal, and we’ll talk about it.“

„It might take a few days to get the paperwork.“

„Right.“ Slope threw up his hands. „So, is this at all helpful? Or was I wasting my time here?“

„Nothing I can really use,“ said Mallory. „But you might help me with something else. What can you tell me about cluster strokes?“

„Save me some time,“ said Slope. „What don’t you already know?“

„It’s Malakhai.“

And now she had the doctor’s attention. He was as startled as Riker.

„It’s been going on for a year,“ she said. „Every time he has a stroke, a little piece of his brain dies, memories are destroyed. I know they’re happening faster now. I need to know how much time I’ve got before he dies or his brain is wiped.“

„I’m sorry to hear that.“ The doctor pushed the steel bed back into the wall and closed the door. „If he’s on medication, he might last awhile without dramatic impairment. I can’t tell you the date when any man is going to die. Could be tomorrow or next year. But one day, there’ll be a massive stroke. What he’s going through now probably isn’t that debilitating – missing time, minutes or hours. Dexterity and motor skills won’t be affected. Not his intellect either – no dementia. Dates and specific memories are most susceptible to loss.“

„And people?“

„He might not recognize certain people from his past. It depends on the severity of the strokes.“

Riker looked at his shoes, hoping to hide his surprise from Slope – and the humiliation. What else might Mallory be holding out on him?

„Right now, he’s only having small strokes,“ said Mallory. „Could he have committed a recent murder and then forgotten it?“

„It’s possible,“ said Slope. „But unlikely at this stage. It’s not like Alzheimer’s. Usually the present remains intact, and the distant memories go first. But you were the one who told Malakhai how his wife was murdered. Doesn’t that preclude a revenge motive before the poker game?“

Riker was angry, for he had not been privy to this information either. He tried to catch her eye.

Mallory pointedly ignored her partner, turning her face away, speaking only to Slope. „Malakhai already knew how his wife died. Maybe he didn’t have all the details, but he knew she didn’t bleed to death from a shoulder wound. He’s seen more corpses than you have. And he’s had worse wounds than Louisa’s.“

Dr. Slope shook his head. „Why would he wait more than fifty years for revenge?“

She didn’t notice that Riker was edging away from her. „I don’t know.“ Mallory was staring at the locker that housed her junkie. „But that body was a prime piece of misdirection.“ She held up a small green velvet bag. Riker recognized it as the one Charles had given her when he showed her the key rod from Faustine’s Magic Theater.

She handed it to the doctor. „Look familiar?“

Slope examined the embroidered F. „It’s just like the one we found on Oliver Tree’s body.“

„We?“ asked Riker, hoping that Slope was referring to his assistants. „Did I miss something here? There was an autopsy for an accident victim?“

Slope lowered his glasses. „A violent accident, and very high-profile. Sure we had a look at the body. No cutting. Nothing fancy. Mallory was the only cop who bothered to show up for it. She didn’t tell you?“

„Must’ve slipped her mind.“ Riker slumped against a locker, feeling suddenly wasted.

Mallory took the velvet bag from Slope’s hand and turned to her partner. „I told you Oliver’s killer only had to substitute the keys – exchange the new one for the old one with a little sleight of hand. The key bag made it easier. Any garden-variety pickpocket could’ve done it.“

Riker would not look at her as he put on his hat and buttoned his coat. She did not seem to notice that he was angry. More likely, she did not care. He left Mallory talking to the air as he pushed through the swinging doors. He had walked half the length of the corridor before he heard the slap of her running shoes on the floor.

„Riker, wait!“

He kept on moving, only wanting the fresh air of the sidewalk and some solitude. She caught up and walked alongside him. He would not look at her – he could not.

„Where are you going, Riker?“

„To the theater.“ He checked his watch. He would be late for his appointment with Franny Futura. „I’m pulling the crime scene tapes so the magicians can – “

„Not so fast. I need some specs from the room inside Oliver’s platform. I’ll meet you there. We’ll have lunch, okay?“

„I’m not hungry, kid.“ He was almost to the end of the hall, the end of his patience with her. „We’ll do lunch some other time – when you’re a grown-up.“

He felt her hand on his sleeve, and now he stopped dead and turned on her. Was that surprise in her eyes? Yes. She was reading his face, probably wondering how he could be angry with her. Empathy was not her strong point.

„You never changed, Mallory. As I recall, you never did learn to share your toys with the other kids.“

„The other kids wouldn’t have anything to do with me, and you know it.“ She had delivered this line without complaint, as a dry fact of life. It was a good shot, well placed.

In all the years of watching Kathy Mallory grow, he had never known her to have one playmate her own age. She had made do with the cops of Special Crimes, and computers had replaced the playground jump rope. She had frightened children from more traditional homes than cold streets and cast-off refrigerator cartons.

His voice softened, as if he were speaking to Kathy the child. „You know this is no way to treat your own partner. I gave you every piece of information I had. But you – “