Indisputable Proof by Gary Williams, Vicky Knerly Page A
Authors: Gary Williams, Vicky Knerly
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man’s coat. He was probably outside satisfying his addiction.
Tolen heard a subtle mechanical whirl and spotted the source: a contraption in the corner of the living room. It was low and square, and his curiosity drew him to it. Only after he came closer did he realize it was a high-tech litter pan with a plastic doorway and a connecting receptacle to sift through the litter and filter out the excrement periodically; more proof the cat was an indoor pet.
Tolen turned toward McCray. “Mr. McCray, have you found any prints besides Conin’s?”
“Not unless you count the cat. There are feline pawprints everywhere; more than Conin’s fingerprints.”
Tolen returned to the master bedroom. He moved to the adjoining bathroom. The doorknob caught his eye, and he bent down to examine it.
“Find anything interesting?” Jade called as she walked up from behind.
“Maybe,” Tolen said. He had not heard her enter the room. “The keyhole has what appears to be scrape marks, as if someone was trying to unlock it forcefully.”
“If Conin’s the only one who lived here, why would he lock the bathroom door?”
Tolen gave her a knowing look with one eyebrow raised as if to say, “Exactly.”
She answered her own question, suddenly recognizing Tolen’s reasoning, “Be...cause…he was on the inside and someone was trying to get at him?”
Tolen stepped into the small bathroom. Jade stood in the doorway observing him.
Everything was in perfect order: the toothbrush was secure within a plastic travel case, a folded washcloth on the edge of the sink, a stick of deodorant, dental floss, Vaseline, and an electric shaver spaced apart with precision. This was a problem, Tolen realized. The arrangement of everything was too precise.
“What is it? What do you see?” Jade asked.
“Let’s get Diaz and be on our way. It’s a long flight to Costa Rica.”
CHAPTER 8
September 11. Tuesday – 1:24 a.m. Roanoke, Virginia
At the Roanoke Regional Airport, the tarmac was dark. The outside air had cooled considerably. Commercial airline traffic had ceased hours ago. There were no other private jets in sight, leaving the Learjet 85 as the lone aircraft on the taxiway. Jade, Tolen, and Diaz sat comfortably aboard the private jet waiting for departure. Jade looked out the window. A light rain had begun falling several minutes before, misting the glass and blurring the outside world. An ethereal glow of lights escaped from the terminal windows in the distance.
Over an intercom, Reba Zee advised them they would take off within minutes.
“You think Conin’s murder was premeditated?” Jade asked Tolen.
“Yes, I believe the killer trapped him in the bathroom and then killed him. The toiletry items were probably in disarray after the struggle, but the murderer arranged them back in place too precisely. Conin’s body was then moved to the alley to stage a mugging.”
Diaz looked confused. “This doesn’t appear to have anything to do with our... mission. Boyd Ramsey made one call to this lab technician. For all we know, he might have misdialed the number. There is no other evidence linking him to Boyd Ramsey.”
Tolen’s cell phone rang, and he answered. “Yes, Ms. Bar? I see,” he said after a moment of silence. “Thank you.” Tolen hung up.
Tolen looked to Jade. “Dr. Cherrigan’s PC and other personal files were missing from the crime scene. Are you sure they were in his motel room?”
She felt her spirits sink. “Absolutely.” Then a terrible thought struck her. “We can’t go to Costa Rica!” she blurted out.
“Why not?” Diaz asked.
“Because whoever killed Dr. Cherrigan and stole his notes now knows where to look for the clue which will lead to Joseph of Arimathea’s tomb…and that clue is here, in the United States.”
“I thought you said these, these…” Diaz made a circle in the air, swirling his finger theatrically, “…Costa Rican stone spheres hold the clue?”
“They do. Or should I
Tolen heard a subtle mechanical whirl and spotted the source: a contraption in the corner of the living room. It was low and square, and his curiosity drew him to it. Only after he came closer did he realize it was a high-tech litter pan with a plastic doorway and a connecting receptacle to sift through the litter and filter out the excrement periodically; more proof the cat was an indoor pet.
Tolen turned toward McCray. “Mr. McCray, have you found any prints besides Conin’s?”
“Not unless you count the cat. There are feline pawprints everywhere; more than Conin’s fingerprints.”
Tolen returned to the master bedroom. He moved to the adjoining bathroom. The doorknob caught his eye, and he bent down to examine it.
“Find anything interesting?” Jade called as she walked up from behind.
“Maybe,” Tolen said. He had not heard her enter the room. “The keyhole has what appears to be scrape marks, as if someone was trying to unlock it forcefully.”
“If Conin’s the only one who lived here, why would he lock the bathroom door?”
Tolen gave her a knowing look with one eyebrow raised as if to say, “Exactly.”
She answered her own question, suddenly recognizing Tolen’s reasoning, “Be...cause…he was on the inside and someone was trying to get at him?”
Tolen stepped into the small bathroom. Jade stood in the doorway observing him.
Everything was in perfect order: the toothbrush was secure within a plastic travel case, a folded washcloth on the edge of the sink, a stick of deodorant, dental floss, Vaseline, and an electric shaver spaced apart with precision. This was a problem, Tolen realized. The arrangement of everything was too precise.
“What is it? What do you see?” Jade asked.
“Let’s get Diaz and be on our way. It’s a long flight to Costa Rica.”
CHAPTER 8
September 11. Tuesday – 1:24 a.m. Roanoke, Virginia
At the Roanoke Regional Airport, the tarmac was dark. The outside air had cooled considerably. Commercial airline traffic had ceased hours ago. There were no other private jets in sight, leaving the Learjet 85 as the lone aircraft on the taxiway. Jade, Tolen, and Diaz sat comfortably aboard the private jet waiting for departure. Jade looked out the window. A light rain had begun falling several minutes before, misting the glass and blurring the outside world. An ethereal glow of lights escaped from the terminal windows in the distance.
Over an intercom, Reba Zee advised them they would take off within minutes.
“You think Conin’s murder was premeditated?” Jade asked Tolen.
“Yes, I believe the killer trapped him in the bathroom and then killed him. The toiletry items were probably in disarray after the struggle, but the murderer arranged them back in place too precisely. Conin’s body was then moved to the alley to stage a mugging.”
Diaz looked confused. “This doesn’t appear to have anything to do with our... mission. Boyd Ramsey made one call to this lab technician. For all we know, he might have misdialed the number. There is no other evidence linking him to Boyd Ramsey.”
Tolen’s cell phone rang, and he answered. “Yes, Ms. Bar? I see,” he said after a moment of silence. “Thank you.” Tolen hung up.
Tolen looked to Jade. “Dr. Cherrigan’s PC and other personal files were missing from the crime scene. Are you sure they were in his motel room?”
She felt her spirits sink. “Absolutely.” Then a terrible thought struck her. “We can’t go to Costa Rica!” she blurted out.
“Why not?” Diaz asked.
“Because whoever killed Dr. Cherrigan and stole his notes now knows where to look for the clue which will lead to Joseph of Arimathea’s tomb…and that clue is here, in the United States.”
“I thought you said these, these…” Diaz made a circle in the air, swirling his finger theatrically, “…Costa Rican stone spheres hold the clue?”
“They do. Or should I
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