Out the back door was a series of kennel houses, surrounded by a chain-link fence. She was impressed with how neat everything was. Only the front yard seemed neglected. She went back into the house and then out again, via the kitchen door. Jimmy stood patiently holding Daisy’s leash. She petted the dog. “Jimmy, do you think the chief’s car would have some rubber gloves in it?”
“It might.”
Holly took the leash from him. “See if you can find me some.”
Jimmy went to the car, looked into the glove compartment and came back with the gloves.
Holly had a thought. “Did the chief carry a shotgun in his car?”
“Yes, ma’am; all the patrol cars have shotguns.”
“Go see if there’s one in the chief’s car.”
Jimmy checked the car, looked in the trunk and returned. “No, ma’am, there’s no shotgun in the car.”
Holly handed him Daisy’s leash and went back into the house, slipping on the rubber gloves. Back in the office, she turned over the shotgun and jotted down the serial number on the back of a glove, then she called the station and asked for Jane.
“Jane here,” she said.
“It’s Holly. Do you have a list handy of the departmental weapons’ serial numbers?”
“Right here in my computer.”
“Look up the serial number of the chief’s shotgun, the one he carried in his car.” Holly heard the tapping of computer keys.
Jane read out the number.
“Thanks. If you need me I’m at Hank Doherty’s house.” She gave Jane the number, then hung up. When she turned around a man was standing in the doorway. He was in his late thirties, at least six-four and two hundred and fifty pounds, of athletic build, wearing a wash-and-wear suit.
“I’m Bob Hurst,” he said.
“Holly Barker,” she replied, extending a hand. “Pardon my gloves.”
“Heard about you, glad to meet you.”
“Same here.”
“What we got?”
“Hank Doherty, apparently. Dead, shotgun to the face.”
Hurst nodded, walked around the desk and took a good look. “Looks like a police weapon,” he said.
“It’s Chief Marley’s,” she replied. “I checked the serial number.”
He looked at her oddly. “That’s kind of weird.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve had a walk-through. It’s all in good order; nothing seems to have been stolen. The safe’s open, and it doesn’t seem like a robbery.”
“From what I know of Hank, it could be suicide,” Hurst said.
“With the chief’s shotgun?”
“Well, there is that.”
“Let’s treat it as a homicide until we know more. You work the scene, I’ll go through the desk and the safe.”
“Right.”
Holly went and sat behind the desk. She gave her first attention to the letter from Mrs. Eleanor Warner. It was two pages of affectionate chat, with talk of her children. Mrs. Warner was Hank’s daughter.
Holly went through the bills and other mail and found nothing remarkable. Finally, she came to a bound document under a blank legal pad. The cover, apparently printed from a computer, was set in large type. It read:
DAISY
EXCELLENT WORKING BITCH
“Oh, Daisy,” Holly said aloud. “Me, too.”
CHAPTER
7
Holly went through Hank Doherty’s safe and found three hundred dollars and change in cash, a life insurance policy and some other personal and business documents. “I think we can discount robbery as a motive,” she said to Bob Hurst, who was dusting the counter and the phone for fingerprints. “There’s cash here, and nobody bothered to look.”
“Right,” Hurst said. “I don’t hold out much hope for any relevant prints. The shotgun’s been wiped clean, which means it wasn’t suicide.”
A man carrying a medical bag entered through the front door.
“Hey, Doc,” Hurst said. “Got a job for you over there.”
“Is it Hank?” the doctor asked.
“Sure is. That there is Deputy Chief Barker,” he said, pointing a gloved hand. “Chief, this here is Dr. Fred Harper, who passes for our M.E. around here.”
Holly waved from Hank’s desk. “Hey, Dr. Harper.”
“How you do?” The doctor walked around the counter and into the office. “Jesus God,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” Hurst replied.
The doctor knelt by the body and looked it over carefully. Finally he stood up. “I don’t think I can tell you anything you don’t already know,” he said. “Not until I get a postmortem done, anyway.”
“The ambulance is here,” Hurst said. “You ready to move him?”
The doctor looked inquiringly at Holly.
“Go ahead, if you’re ready,” she said.
Two paramedics came into the building, loaded the corpse onto a stretcher and removed it to the ambulance.
“Let me know when you’re done,” Holly said to the doctor. “I’d like you to be thorough.”
“I always am,” the doctor said. “I’ll try to get it done by the close of business, but I can’t promise.” He picked up his bag and left.
“I’m about done,” Hurst said.
“When do you think it happened?” Holly asked.
“Last night, I reckon.”
“That’s what I figured, but there’s the remains of breakfast on the kitchen table. Some scrambled eggs.”
“Hank didn’t eat a lot,” Hurst replied. “That could have been last night’s supper.”
“We’ll know for sure when the doctor is done.” She indicated a chair across the desk from her. “Take a seat for a minute.”
Hurst sat down, shucking off his rubber gloves.
“Give me your take on what happened here,” she said.
Hurst sighed. “Somebody came in through the front door with a shotgun, used it on Hank and walked out. Simple as that.”
Holly nodded. “Why was the dog in the kitchen with the door closed?”
Hurst furrowed his brow. “Good point. I can’t think of any reason why Hank would shut the dog up in there.”
“Maybe Hank didn’t do it. Maybe his visitor did.”
“Why would the dog mind a visitor, a stranger?”
“Maybe it wasn’t a stranger.”
“Granted. I’ve been around Hank and the dog, though; the dog didn’t listen to anybody, unless Hank…”
“Gave his permission?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe the visitor asked Hank to shut the dog in the kitchen. Maybe the dog made the visitor nervous.”
“Maybe,” Hurst said, “but why would Hank do that? If he told Daisy to lie down and be quiet, then that’s what she did. No reason for anybody to be nervous. On the other hand, anybody who was planning to shoot Hank wouldn’t want Daisy in the room; she’d tear his throat out.”
“She’s trained that way?”
“She’s trained every which way,” Hurst said. “That’s some dog.”
“I think our perp came in through the kitchen door,” Holly said. “I think Daisy went to investigate, recognized him as somebody she knew and trusted, and as he walked in here, he shut the kitchen door behind him, trapping her in there.”