Husic invited him in and offered him iced tea, which he accepted. They then went out the back door onto a well-constructed redwood deck. Hardy didn't know when he'd last sat amidst such an explosion of well-tended flowers. Husic had planted them around the deck on the ground, in pots on the deck itself and now in late April they were blooming in profusion. But he'd left an open area in the center of the deck, and in that had placed a wrought-iron table, shaded by a large canvas umbrella. Here they sat in comfortable padded chairs.
From the transcripts he'd read, Hardy knew that Husic was a retired dentist, sixty-two years old. He had a ruddy complexion and cropped gray hair. Today he wore faded navy blue slacks, loafers with no socks, a shirt with a button-down collar, two buttons open at the neck. He came across as solicitous, friendly, intelligent. Hardy made a mental note that, should it come to that, Husic would make a terrific witness.
"Yes, I heard the shot," he said. "It's only a stone's throw away over there. I already told this to the police, you know."
Hardy did know this, but one of the frustrations of his discovery in this matter was the ineptness of some of Fisk's and Bracco's interrogations. He wondered if they'd ever heard of the relatively simple concept of asking witnesses where they'd been, what they'd seen or thought, and what they'd been doing at the time of a murder. This, he thought, was not high-concept police work. And Husic's interrogation-just random chat about flowers and investments, almost nothing about the day of Markham's death-had been one of the worst, he thought.
So he had a lot to fill in here. "I realize that," he replied. "In fact, I've read a transcript of that interview, but I've got a slightly different approach. You just now said 'shot.' You only heard one? I thought I noticed you said 'three' somewhere."
Husic sipped his drink thoughtfully, put it down carefully on the table. "They asked that, too, and I'm afraid I don't have a good answer. I believe I told the other officers that I was in bed at the time, pretty tired after the day over at Carla's. It was emotionally draining as hell over there, let me tell you. But if she needed me, I wanted to be available." Lightly slapping his forehead, he made a face. "Which doesn't answer what you asked me, does it? Sorry. You're a dentist, you spend your whole life making conversation with people who can't answer you. It affects your patterns of speech, and here I go again. All right. How many shots did I hear? Distinctly, only one."
Hardy looked across the expanse of lawn to what he knew to be the Markhams' kitchen. He realized they'd left the kitchen windows open when they'd gone.
"I thought it was a backfire or something. I mean, a gunshot is not your first thought in this neighborhood."
"But you may have heard three of them?"
"Well, that's funny, you know. None of them were really loud. In my memory it's three, but when I go back there and try to hear them, it's more like I heard one and remembered two. I'm not making sense, am I? What I mean is, the last one definitely was something-I sat up in bed-but the first two were almost as if I dreamed them, you know how that happens?"
"Sure." Hardy nodded. The siren that turns out to be your alarm clock. But this, he thought, might possibly be the two shots that killed the girls-right there seventy feet away-then the last round through the open kitchen window, which would have been louder. "But you were in bed when you heard them? Do you remember what time it was?"
"Yes, exactly. It was ten forty-two on the clock by my bed. I remember being very frustrated. I don't go to sleep easily since Meg passed-four years ago now-and if I wake up, that's usually it for the night. I'm up. And last Tuesday, with all the strain, I came home from Carla's and had a glass of wine, but barely dozed. Then with the gunshot…"
"You were awake the rest of the night?"
"Until three, anyway. Those are long hours, eleven to three."
Hardy made a sympathetic noise. "I know them pretty well myself. So when did you finally determine that they were gunshots?"
"Oh, not until the next morning." The memory bushwhacked him for a moment. "God, it's just so awful."
"You were close to them, the Markhams?"
He hesitated. "Well, Carla, I'd say so. Tim was a bit of a cold fish, at least to me." Moving along to happier memories, his face came alive. "But Carla would come over and help with my garden here sometimes. We'd have coffee…some nice talks. I can't believe…" He hung his head and shook it. When he looked back up, he smiled, but his eyes had a glassy quality.
Hardy let the silence extend another moment. Finally, he asked quietly, "So you didn't go and explore the source of the noise when you heard it?"
"No. After a minute I got up and looked out the window, of course, but everything was still. Just so still."
"Would you mind telling me what you saw, exactly?"
"Well, really nothing unusual at all. Carla's house right there." Husic seemed puzzled by the question. "Just her house."
Not "their" house, Hardy noticed. Just "her."
"But I knew people had been over and if they'd all gone home, I wasn't going to bother her, not that night. Let her sleep, I thought."
"So it was dark?"
Again, puzzlement. "Well…no. There were lights on in the kitchen and I remember over the front porch. And then the upstairs hall light was on." He turned and pointed. "That's that middle one, on the top."
"And what did you do then?"
Husic blew out heavily. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hardy, but didn't I already give you all this in my first statement?"
"Maybe not all of it, sir. Could we take five more minutes? I'd really appreciate it."
Another sigh as Husic gave in. "I turned on Letterman. I thought if I could laugh, maybe I could get to sleep. But nothing was going to make me laugh that night. Not even Dave. I was still worried about Carla, couldn't get her out of my mind, actually. What was she going to do now?" Absently, he reached for his drink and stirred the ice in it with his finger. "But I couldn't do anything more that night, you know. I had to wait and let time…Anyway, I was still awake, so I came out here-see the little greenhouse back there?-and worked with my bonsais for an hour, maybe two. Then-by now it's two o'clock, thereabouts-I saw the lights were out. So Carla had gone to sleep, at least I thought that at the time, and then suddenly I could, too."
29
The first letter was dated nearly seven years ago.
Parnassus Medical Group
Embarcadero Center
San Francisco, California
Dear Dr. Kensing:
This letter will document the decisions mutually agreed to by you, the Parnassus Physicians' Group, and the Parnassus Medical Group (collectively, the "Group") pursuant to the disciplinary committee meeting held last week. You have admitted that at various times and in various locations since you commenced employment with the Group, you have taken unspecified quantities of morphine and Vicodin for your personal use. Additionally, you acknowledge that you are an alcoholic whose medical performance while in a diminished mental state due to alcohol consumption has on several occasions fallen below the standard of reasonable medical care.
The Group recognizes your considerable skills as a doctor and communicator and before the recent discoveries memorialized herein, considered you a valuable member of its community. Because of this consideration, after substantial discussion, and over the dissent of the Medical Director, the Group's disciplinary committee decided at this time to issue only this formal letter of reprimand rather than terminate your employment and pursue possible criminal charges against you upon the following conditions: 1) you will immediately and forever desist from use of all alcohol and all narcotics, except those drugs that may from time to time be prescribed to you by another physician for legitimate medical reasons; 2) you will voluntarily submit to random urine sampling to determine the presence of drugs or alcohol in your system;3) you will immediately accept the recommendation of the substance abuse counselor and attend and cooperate with any programs recommended by the Group; 4) for the next calendar year, in addition to the regularly scheduled visits with your appointed counselor, you will daily attend a so-called 12-step program, approved by the Group, to address your problems with addiction and chemical dependency; 5) after the first year of such counseling, but for the remainder of your service time within the Group, you will attend such 12-step programs as the Group deems necessary, but in no event shall these be scheduled less frequently than once a week.