Darkest Journey

Most of the time.

He made a point of touching each icy cold body. He lingered, looking over the still-visible wounds to their hearts. Both men had exercised or at least been active enough to keep their muscles tight. Neither one had been young—the wrinkles creasing their flesh testified to that—but both could have looked forward to several more decades of life if they hadn’t, somewhere and for some reason, crossed the path of a murderer.

“No bruising or defensive wounds to indicate a struggle?” Ethan asked, reluctantly accepting the fact that the dead weren’t going to speak with him.

“If you ask me,” Franklin said, “and I’m not the detective, of course, Randy is—it appears that both men were taken completely by surprise. They were facing their killer when he struck, and he murdered each man the same way. Quickly. No defensive wounds. I believe they knew their killer.”

“And both men were killed where their bodies were found?” Ethan asked, though he knew the answer; he’d read it in the files Jackson had given him. It never hurt to have these things confirmed, though, especially when he was talking to the medical examiner who had been at the scene.

“Definitely. The soil beneath the bodies was drenched with their blood. We’re still waiting for chemical analyses in the hope that something might turn up other than the victims’ blood, but...like I said, I feel strongly that both men knew their killer and were taken completely by surprise.”

“And dressed up in their reenactment uniforms,” Ethan murmured.

“And for that reason we’re looking at everyone—men and women—who were involved with the victims’ final reenactment,” Randy said, sounding very much like a cop and very little like the old friend with whom Ethan had gone to school.

Ethan nodded. “Last meals, Doc?”

“Gumbo—both of them,” Franklin said. “Probably from someplace here in town. They died twenty-four to forty hours apart. They weren’t at dinner together or anything. If they had been, they would have been at different stages of digestion, which they weren’t. And, actually, I’m waiting for the lab results before I can be definitive with regard to Mr. Hickory. I’m going by my own gut, if you’ll excuse the pun, in his case.”

Ethan nodded; Franklin had been at this long enough to recognize what he saw and smelled.

“They eat long before they died?” he asked.

“A couple of hours,” Franklin said.

Ethan turned to Randy. “Is there a reason why they would have been in their uniforms?”

Randy shrugged. “There’s been a photographer in town paying people to pose. He said he hadn’t asked either of them, though. He was at the reenactment, though, and took some shots there. As I’m sure you know, Brad Thornton and his brother, Mike, are making that movie with Charlie Moreau. Maybe they wanted to be extras. Hickory told his housekeeper he would be going out for a meeting, and she didn’t need to leave him dinner. His people closed up the public part of the plantation right at five. The housekeeper was the last person to see him, right about that time, and he wasn’t in uniform then. As far as Corley goes, no one seems to know anything definitive. He was on a research sabbatical, so he wasn’t expected in class. He called a friend and asked her to feed his cats for the next few days, and that’s the last we know of his whereabouts. His home is just this side of Baton Rouge, where he taught.”

“He didn’t happen to tell the friend what he was up to, did he?” Ethan asked.

“Said he had some meetings in St. Francisville. That was it,” Randy told him.

“Well,” Dr. Franklin said, pulling the sheets fully over both bodies, “I’ll let these gentlemen get back to rest. Any more questions, Ethan?”

Ethan shook his head. “Not now, Doc. But—”

“You can call me anytime. You know that. I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

Ethan and Randy didn’t speak again until they were back out on the street.

“You coming in to the office?” Randy asked. “You want to see what else we’ve got?”

“What else do you have?” Ethan asked.

“Nothing except a pretty damned good crime board with times and pictures and everything laid out in one place. I’m going to start interviewing the rest of the people involved in that Journey reenactment, and, after that, everyone else who was on board. Is that what the Feds would do?”

“Yep. It is.”

“So...you coming?”

“Give me an hour?” Ethan asked. “There are a few things I’d like to do. Haven’t even opened up my folks’ old house yet.”

“You all still own the place?”

“Yep. My folks rent it out, but they’re looking for new tenants now, so it’s empty. Worked out nicely for me.”

“An hour, then. I’ll make some phone calls while I wait for you, get some of the St. Francisville police going door to door to see if anyone heard or saw anything. It’s always quieter and easier to call when the night shift’s on,” Randy told him.

“See you soon,” Ethan said.

Just then Randy’s phone rang, and he motioned to Ethan to wait while he answered. After a one-sided conversation consisting mostly of “Uh-huh” and “You’re sure?” he thanked the caller. His expression serious, he turned to Ethan and said, “Ethan, I just got some news, and it’s something you need to know.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.