‘I thought as much,’ David said.
‘His nose, both cheekbones, and his jaw had multiple breaks, his collarbone and skull badly fractured. He would have died quickly. There are a number of postmortem injuries to the body, including four broken ribs and a hard, shovel-point blow to the forehead. The killer kept whaling on him after he was dead.’
‘Did he suffer?’ Whit asked.
‘I think not. Did you know him?’
‘Yes. He was a family friend. A good one.’
‘I’m so sorry, Judge.’
‘Thanks. Anything else of note with Mr Gilbert?’
‘No – just that it was a very brutal attack. Mrs Tran was shot to death, a 45-caliber. I think they shot her because the shovel broke, so she probably died after Mr Gilbert. She has defensive wounds on her hands and arms. Splinters from the handle. DPS can probably identify the handle manufacturer from the wood traces, the resins.’ She cleared her throat. ‘DPS also did fingernail swipes on them both – you may bear fruit with Mrs Tran. More likely that she scratched or grabbed at the killers during the assault.’
‘Killers? Plural?’
Liz Contreras steepled her fingers. ‘It just seems more likely. Let’s say Gilbert gets attacked first and it’s a surprise. Whoever killed him either didn’t have the gun or didn’t have time to draw before deciding to attack Mr Gilbert. Mrs Tran’s got bruising on her upper arms. Maybe one attacker held her while another attacker killed Mr Gilbert. Then, with the shovel broken and their composure regained, they shot her.’
‘So they were digging, one might assume’ – Whit gave David a stare – ‘and Patch and Thuy surprised them?’
‘Maybe the killers were camping?’ Liz said. ‘Camping illegally. Campers sometimes carry shovels.’
‘No signs of a campsite, but there were heavy truck tracks,’ Whit said. ‘So let’s say there’s noise from the truck, and they don’t hear Patch and Thuy approach until it’s too late. The two of them were supposed to be over in Port Aransas.’
‘But they weren’t. So maybe the killers knew their plans, expected them to be gone,’ Liz said.
Knew their plans. So who knew about them going to Port Aransas? Hell, Patch might have told any of a thousand people in town what his plans were. Not a shy man. Or maybe not. Assume not. So Whit knew. Lucy. Suzanne and therefore Roy. Thuy’s family. ‘If you’re right, the killers wouldn’t have been worried about making noise.’
‘Noise?’ Liz said. ‘I mean, you’re saying noise above and beyond a regular truck, right?’
‘Maybe the truck was doing more than revving its engines. Maybe it was loading something,’ Whit said.
‘Loading what? Out in the middle of nowhere?’ Liz asked.
‘Judge,’ David said.
Liz glanced at the two of them, gauging the tension. Whit stayed quiet. ‘I won’t ask. You’ve got my report. The families can have the bodies back tomorrow.’
They walked into the parking lot, got into David’s police cruiser. David started the engine but didn’t shift into drive. ‘The treasure idea. It’s interesting, but until I see something more it’s not relevant.’
‘You can’t ignore those relics.’
‘I’m more interested in modern-day motives.’
‘The killers had shovels and trucks, David. Do you think they were digging for oil?’
‘I’m not jumping to a whacked-out conclusion, Judge. The skeletons could be old Gilbert family members. That seems far more likely than buried treasure in my mind. Surely you see that.’ David eased out into Corpus Christi traffic, headed for the Harbor Bridge. ‘I mean, I understand this treasure idea’s interesting to you because it takes Lucy out of the equation. She’s got the prime motive for the murder. She benefits the most.’ He clicked his tongue against his teeth.
‘Lucy had nothing to do with this. She didn’t even know about the will.’
‘You one hundred percent sure she didn’t?’
‘I am.’
‘Certainty’s a nice thing. You don’t see it often. You want to grab dinner?’ The unexpected olive branch made Whit suspicious.
‘Why?’
‘Christ, that’s nice. We work together. I’m making an effort here.’
‘Make the effort by not accusing Lucy.’
‘We’ll talk about it. You eat barbecue?’
There was a nasty calculation, Whit thought, in the smile, and he wanted to know what was behind it. ‘Sure I do. Let’s go.’
14
Gar carried Claudia out onto Jupiter’s deck. She was still blindfolded, and the heat of the sun touched her face and legs. He lurched and for a freezing moment she thought he was throwing her overboard. But then he settled her feet on deck, held her by her shoulders, and she realized he’d crossed the railing to the Miss Catherine. We haven’t really moved, Claudia realized. She wondered how cold a watery grave would feel, the sky forever denied, your flesh drifting off your bones over the weeks, your leg bones and hipbones and ribs settling into the ooze, like artifacts, for the slow dissolve into muck itself.
‘Don’t do this,’ she said. ‘Please.’ She balled her hands into fists, but she knew with a sick sinking feeling he was much stronger than she was. She needed a weapon to even the odds.
‘He’s not going to hurt you.’ Danny’s voice came from behind her. ‘I just want to talk to you a minute.’
So this wasn’t about rape, at least for the next five minutes.
Gar steered her – walking made her broken toe throb even worse – into a galley that reeked of burned pizza, with a thin odor of rum and sweat souring the air. He steered Claudia into a vinyl booth and pushed her into the seat.
‘Now, Claudia,’ Danny said. ‘We can talk for a few minutes. While we wait to be sure Stoney’s cooperating.’
Breath tickled Claudia’s ear. ‘If this deal sours,’ Gar whispered, ‘I’m gonna have fun with you. Pour some Wesson oil between your legs and have us a little marathon.’
Her heart struck her ribs like a hammer hitting piano wire.
‘Let her be,’ Danny said. ‘Go back to the other boat.’
‘Behave,’ Gar said, presumably to her. Claudia heard a door close, the smell of the rum moved closer, vinyl crackled as Danny slid into the booth’s other side. She put her hands – still bound in front of her – on the table. The linoleum was Sticky.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ Danny said.
‘Yeah, right.’ Gar’s threat wriggled in her ear like a worm.
‘I don’t think he’ll rape you. He’s all talk. Those two boys, well, they slept in the same stateroom last night and I heard groaning. Don’t think they had upset stomachs.’ The barest hint of moral outrage colored his voice.
‘He broke my toe because he didn’t like what I said. And frankly, you’re not in control of him or what he does.’
‘I am.’
‘You’re not,’ she said. ‘I can hear it in their voices. Those two freaks are just using you to get at this cash. You’re too gentle. You don’t have the stomach for this or what it might take. You’re as dead as me and Ben if this doesn’t work out.’
‘I’m sorry you’re in this mess, but you picked your friends badly. You thirsty, hon? Want some water?’
‘Please.’
A tap gurgled. Then he pushed a glass into her hands. She drank. He moved against the vinyl, making it squeak, trying to get comfortable. ‘Tell me what you know about Stoney.’
‘Nothing. I know Ben. I barely knew Stoney in high school.’
‘High school. Before he was a millionaire.’
‘Yes.’
‘He much different now?’
‘He has more lunch money.’
A match scratched, she smelled the flash of fire. Cigarette paper crackled its whisper and silky smoke brushed her nostrils. ‘So in high school did he run roughshod over people? Kill anyone who got in his way?’
‘Talk is cheap,’ she said. ‘What proof do you have he killed anybody?’
‘Because only he knew about the journal,’ Danny said. ‘I told him about it, he decided he wanted it, and he killed to get it.’