Savannah was beating on the door of the carriage house so hard her hands were starting to bruise. Dorothea finally answered the door in her robe. Savannah nearly fell inside.
Dorothea saw the terrified look on the woman’s face and said, “My God, Savannah, what is it?”
She pointed in the direction of the nearby stables. “I found… I found Sally. In the stables. She’s dead. Her head crushed. Oh, my God, she’s dead!” she shrieked.
Dorothea looked frantically around as though the killer might be hiding in her foyer. She raced up the stairs to the bedroom, where Eddie lay sleeping.
“Eddie! Savannah found Sally dead in the stables. Eddie!”
He lay motionless in the bed. She drew closer. “Eddie!” She grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently. “Eddie, wake up.”
All she got in return was a small groan. She checked his pulse. It was very faint, as was his breathing, terrifyingly so. She grabbed a glass of water off the nightstand and threw it in his face. This did nothing. She lifted his right eyelid. The pupil was a pinprick. The drug-savvy Dorothea knew what that meant. She picked up the phone and called 911, then she ran back down the stairs where Savannah was squatting right by the door, sobbing. She was dressed in her riding clothes, Dorothea noted, and her boots had left mud all over the foyer.
Todd Williams rose from beside the body and nodded. Sylvia came forward to examine Sally while the forensics team searched for clues. Chip Bailey stood next to the stable’s double door and watched the proceedings as Williams joined him.
“How’s Eddie?” asked Bailey.
“He’s still unconscious. I don’t know if he’s been poisoned or what. I don’t know what the hell is going on anymore. I mean, who would want to kill Sally and Eddie?”
“I didn’t think the girl had anything to do with any of this.”
Sylvia rose from the body after a few minutes and joined the two lawmen.
“Her throat was cut from ear to ear almost. The blood loss was horrific. Death would have been in a minute or so. And then her face was smashed to a pulp.”
“So you’re sure her throat was cut first?” asked Bailey.
“Yes. She was dead when the blows hit her.”
“Time of death?”
“No more than four hours or so. I did a rectal temp, and the minimal degree of rigor mortis substantiates that.”
Williams checked his watch. “So about five-thirty this morning.”
“Looks to be. There’s no sign of rape or sexual assault. Whoever killed her struck from behind and is right-handed. The throat slash was executed left to right.”
“And Savannah found her?” said Bailey.
“She was going riding and came upon the body,” said Williams. “At least that’s what I think she said. She was crying so hard I really couldn’t be sure.”
“And she went to the carriage house to get help?” said Bailey.
“It’s situated closer to the stables than the mansion or the house where Sally stayed,” pointed out Williams.
“And Dorothea answered the door, tried to rouse Eddie and then called for help.”
“Right.”
Bailey mulled this over. “So Dorothea and Eddie were in bed together. Dorothea was okay, but Eddie had been given some poison or other.”
“I haven’t taken a complete statement from Dorothea yet,” said Williams.
“I think you’d better.”
“No, what I think I’d better do is call Sean and Michelle,” said Williams. “They phoned about Sally this morning, before we got the call from Dorothea. They obviously know some things we don’t.”
Chapter 71
As King was waiting for the call from Williams, Michelle came in carrying a tray balanced in her one good arm.
He frowned at her. “I should be waiting on you.”
“Here, this’ll be good for you.” She arranged the tray and pointed out its contents. “My famous mega-power shake, dry cereal with sliced banana and as a little treat, low-carb bread with avocado spread.”
“What’s in the power shake? No, never mind, I don’t want to know.” He took a tiny sip of the shake and quickly put it down. “I think it needs to breathe a bit.”
“It’s not wine, Sean.”
“No, it’s certainly not,” he said firmly. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I never got around to asking why you were coming to my house so late last night.”
“Oh, damn, I forgot all about it. Billy Edwards, Battle’s ex-mechanic, called from L.A.”
King sat straight up. “What did he say?”
Michelle filled him in about the damage to the Rolls. Before she’d even finished, King was out of the bed and grabbing his clothes.
“What are you doing?” she asked in amazement.
“We’ve got someone to see, and fast.”
“Who?”
“Roger Canney.”
They arrived at Canney’s house only to find no one home. They peered in the darkened windows and tried all the doors, but they were locked. King noted the morning’s newspaper on the front steps. They were standing in the driveway when a man came by walking two large basset hounds—or rather, they were walking him.
“He’s not home,” called out the man, who was wearing a Maryland Terrapins basketball cap. “Saw him leave, oh, about two hours ago when I was doing my jog.”
King looked at his watch. “Pretty early.”
“He had some bags with him he loaded in the car. Guess he’s going on a trip.”
“Which car? Beemer or Range Rover?” asked Michelle.
“Range Rover.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“Nope. Blew out of here so fast he almost ran me over.”
They thanked the man, climbed in Michelle’s truck and drove off.
“I’m going to call Todd and tell him to put out an APB on Canney,” said King.
“Sean, what’s going on?”
“Think about how Mrs. Canney died.”
“She was drunk and died in a car accident. But you suggested she might have been murdered.”
“Right. Murdered and knocked back into that ravine when her car was hit by a very heavy Rolls-Royce driven by Bobby Battle. Both events occurred about three and a half years ago.”
“You’re saying Bobby Battle killed Mrs. Canney. Why?”
“What if it wasn’t Roger Canney who first initiated a blackmail scheme against Battle? Maybe it was Mrs. Canney who threatened to reveal Battle as her son’s father, and Battle didn’t respond the way she’d intended or he got tired of paying. Then Roger Canney blackmails Battle over his wife’s death.”
“But how would Roger Canney have known Battle was involved in his wife’s death?”
“Canney might have known about his wife’s plan to blackmail Battle. Or it’s still very possible he came up with the scheme and his wife helped him put the screws to Battle. Then his wife is conveniently killed? He’s a smart guy. Even if he didn’t have actual proof of the murder, he’d put two and two together.”
“So he confronts Battle, tells him he knows he killed his wife and fathered Steve, and he wants money to keep it quiet.”
King nodded. “In seeking to avoid blackmail over an illegitimate child by killing Mrs. Canney, Battle ironically might have set himself up to be blackmailed for murder.”
“But wouldn’t Battle have realized that Canney had to reveal his complicity in the blackmail scheme if he went to the police claiming Battle murdered his wife? I mean, he’d have to give them some plausible motive.”
“He could simply use the fact of the illegitimate son. He could’ve claimed ignorance of any blackmail scheme or the source of any monies, blaming that on his dead wife.”
“Nice guy.”
“Yeah.”
“Looks like we spooked him into running.”