Aaron Tucker - 01 - For Whom the Minivan Rolls: An Aaron Tucker Mystery by Jeffrey Cohen

Author:Jeffrey Cohen
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781890862183
Publisher: Bancroft Press
Published: 2002-09-15T21:21:53+00:00

Chapter 3

After a few seconds, I was able to regain my senses, and that’s when reality set in. My hands started to shake, and a cold sweat appeared on my forehead. I forced myself to look away from the bed to avoid vomiting on a crime scene.

The first thing that always occurs to me when I’m in a difficult situation is to call Abigail. Luckily, that made superb sense in this case, since my wife is an attorney, and a former criminal attorney at that. I reached into my inside jacket pocket and pulled out the cell phone, hit “redial,” and prayed she hadn’t left the office yet.

Abby has caller ID on her office phone, so she could see the number of my cell phone before she picked up the phone. “I swear, I’m on my way out the door,” she said in lieu of a greeting.

“Actually I’m glad you’re still there,” I told her. “I have a situation.”

The smile left her voice. “Where are you?”

“I’m in Room 2203 of Bally’s Casino Hotel, and Madlyn Beckwirth is here. She’s dead.”

Abby had once told me, in another context, that a lot of people go to hotels to commit suicide. “Suicide?” she asked.

“Not unless she found a way to shoot herself in the belly and the head and then throw the gun out the window before she died.”

“Jesus,” my wife offered.

“So, what do I do now?” I asked her.

Lawyer-Mode clicked in—even though she hadn’t done criminal work in years—and Abby’s voice dropped an octave. “Have you called the Atlantic City police?”

“I haven’t called anybody yet. I called you. The police may think my behavior a bit suspicious. The door to her room was slightly open, but I did push my way in. And I didn’t let Barry or Westbrook know in advance I was coming here to get her. I don’t think they would have approved.”

Abby sucked in on her front teeth, her way of indicating to me that I was being a moron. “You’ve seen too many Hitchcock movies, Aaron. Don’t worry about what seems suspicious. Nobody’s going to think you killed Madlyn. You don’t have a motive. But think about everything you’ve done since you entered the room. Did you move anything, touch anything, do anything that would disturb the scene?”

I had already replayed the past two minutes in my head about fifteen times. “I pushed the door open. My hand might have brushed the table, you know a side. . . what’s the word?”

“A sideboard.”

“Right. Sideboard, in the hall, on my way in. Besides that, I haven’t touched anything.”

“Look down,” Abby said. “Did you step in, you know, anything?”

That hadn’t occurred to me. If there had been blood on the rug, would I have seen it? I didn’t want to look, but now I had no choice. I examined the carpet from the door to the spot in which I was standing.

“No. I didn’t step in anything.” There was a faint “beep” in the phone. “I’m going to lose you in a second, Abby.

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