“I don’t know,” Decker said. “I just arrived. Phone it in to the coroner’s office, then clear the area of excess uniforms and we’ll get to work.”
Oliver said, “Mind if I glove and go through John Doe’s pockets?”
“Go ahead,” Decker said. “Double glove, guy. Lots of glass. Be careful.”
The broken bits crunched underneath the soles of Oliver’s shoes as he walked over to the dead blond man. Carefully sifting through razor-sharp shards, he reached into the body’s pants pocket.
“Damn!” Oliver pulled out his hand, a trickle of red running down the latex. He stuck it in his own coat pocket.
“Cut yourself bad?” Decker asked.
“Nah, just a poke.”
Marge said, “You’re going to fuck up evidence.”
“Thanks for the sympathy.”
With his clean gloved hand, Oliver reached into the other pants pocket. Carefully, he fished out the dead man’s wallet, slowly making his way back to Decker and Marge. She gloved and took the wallet from Oliver. Her eyes zeroed in on the driver’s license.
“Kenneth Leonard.” Marge’s fingers sorted through the wallet. “He’s a doctor-”
“What kind of doctor?” Decker asked.
“Doesn’t say. His home address is in Laguna Nigel.”
“So he’s probably not from New Chris,” Oliver said. “Too long a commute.”
Marge said, “Money’s here…about a hundred bucks. So are his credit cards. Strike robbery as a motive.”
“Unless someone was interested in stealing something else,” Oliver said.
Decker looked at him. “The Fisher/Tyne data?”
“Loo, you should have seen the squirrelly look on Shockley’s face when we asked if we could see it. I think someone really didn’t want Decameron showing us the numbers.”
“Decameron kept the data at his house?” Marge said.
“Why not?” Oliver said.
Decker answered, “He said Sparks kept the latest numbers in his files.”
“So he went through Sparks’s files before he left yesterday, found the data, slipped it into his briefcase, and took it home with him.”
“Where’s his briefcase?” Decker asked.
“Good question,” Marge said.
She continued sorting through the flotsam and jetsam of Leonard’s wallet. Receipts, credit card slips, several worn business cards. Marge pulled them out, flipped through them. Her soft brown eyes grew in circumference. “Oh man, look at this! The stiff worked for Fisher/Tyne.”
Decker took the card out of her hand. Across the middle in boldface type were the words FISHER/TYNE, above it an apothecary logo of a mortar and pestle. In the right-hand corner was the name DR. KENNETH LEONARD. Underneath the name was the title VICE PRESIDENT OF RESEARCH DESIGN.
“Wait till Shockley gets wind of this,” Marge said.
“Maybe he already knows about it,” Oliver said. “Maybe he ordered the hit.”
Decker said, “That’s a strong statement. Back it up with a reason, Scotty.”
“The trial results were disappointing. Decameron was going to make the numbers public; ergo all that money Fisher/Tyne had invested in Curedon was going by way of the crapper. Shockley didn’t want that. He sent Leonard down to convince him not to do it.”
Marge said, “Decameron wouldn’t go public, Scott. He was trying to solve the data problem.”
Decker said, “And if Leonard was sent down to off Decameron, why are they both dead, Scotty?”
Oliver smiled. “Haven’t worked out all the bugs in the theory. Was the guy married?”
“Doesn’t say so on his license,” Marge said. “Why?”
“Just wondering who to notify,” Oliver said.
Marge made a face. “Guess we should go to his place and see if he lives with anyone.”
Oliver said, “Better yet, why don’t we pay Fisher/Tyne another visit. Break the news about Leonard, and gauge Shockley’s reaction?”
Decker said, “You can do that.”
Oliver grinned. “How about subpoenaing the asshole if he doesn’t show us the Curedon data?”
“No, Detective, you may not do that,” Decker said. “Sure, you can make a little noise. But don’t lean on Shockley. Because we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
“Do you want me to call Webster and Martinez down to do evidence here?” Marge pointed to the murder scene.
“I can go through it myself.”
Marge stared at Decker.
“What?” Decker said, annoyed.
Oliver sensed tension, said, “I think I’ll go place that call to the coroner’s office.”
When he was out of earshot, Marge said, “Pete, you’ve got a squad room to run-”
“I’m well aware of my duties, Marge.”
Marge looked up at the ceiling. “I just don’t want them talking, you know?”
“Talking about what?”
“That you’re giving Homicide top priority.”
“Homicide does have top priority.”
“Not to the exclusion of the other details.”
Decker glared at her. “Are you lecturing me?”
Marge met his hostile stare. “Yes, I am.”
Decker was quiet. Then he said, “Are people talking?”
“A comment or two.”
“Saying?”
“You have pets.” Marge faced him. “A big GTA ring was busted yesterday. A couple of the guys were wondering why you were at Sparks’s memorial service instead of patting them on the back.”
“So remind me to set up a chart for gold stars-”
“Pete-”
“All right, all right.” He ran his hand through his hair. She was right. It was a great bust. And yes, he could have been a little more generous with the praise. He had been preoccupied…
Marge dropped the wallet into a plastic bag. “Out of curiosity, why not let Webster and Martinez do the evidence collection?”
“They’re doing Sparks’s car.”
“So what’s more important right now?”
Again, she was right. Batting a cool thou, Dunn. Decker said, “I’ll call them down.”
“No offense, Pete?”
“Not at all.” Decker folded his hands across his chest. “I’ll do a little poking around until they, the coroner and the lab people, get here. Does that scenario meet with your approval, Detective?”
“Touchy, touchy.”
Decker said, “What are you doing Sunday night?”
“I got a heavy date with my video store. It’s two-for-one night.”
“Come for dinner.”
“People’ll talk. Teacher’s pet.”
Decker grinned, threw his arm around Marge. “Let them talk.”
21
Wordlessly, Shockley slapped the lobby elevator’s up button, his angry eyes moving between Oliver and Marge. When the doors opened, he stepped in first. The ride up was silent, as was the walk down the hall to his office. The doctor opened the door and walked in. As soon as Marge and Oliver were inside, he slammed it shut.
“Contrary to what you might think, I’m not the CEO of this company.” Shockley was fierce. “I’m an employee and have a job to do. If I don’t do it, I’ll have hell to pay.”
Marge said, “We’re sorry about coming in unannounced, but-”
“Sorry? You yank me out of a very important meeting with the Board of Directors after strong-arming my secretary-”
“Sir, we didn’t strong-arm-”
“Scaring her to death, threatening her-”
“No one threatened any-”
“This better be important!”
“Kenneth Leonard’s dead,” Oliver said unceremoniously. “So is Reg Decameron. Both of them were murdered.”
Shockley gasped. “What!”
“You want to sit down, Doctor?” Marge said.
A rhetorical question. Shockley had slumped into his desk chair. He tried to speak, but his mouth formed soundless words.
Oliver said, “Detective Dunn and I were called to the scene this afternoon. They were murdered in Decameron’s house. We picked through Leonard’s pocket…for ID. His driver’s license says he’s unmarried. Do you know if he has a significant other?”