“There’s no second glass on the desk,” Dash said.
“No, but the bottle and an extra glass are on the shelf behind the desk,” I said, squinting at one of the Polaroids.”
“Now you’re starting to think like a detective,” he said.“So he had a late-night visitor, someone he was comfortable enough to let in his home and up to his office, poured two drinks, things got heated…” He paused.
“There’s no sign of struggle in these photographs.Everything looks fairly neat and tidy.”
“One of the chairs across from his desk is pushed back,” Dash said, “But that could have been done by medics or police once they were on scene.It’s impossible to know now.But if someone was there and set the stage for his apparent suicide, the killer would have taken care to remove any trace of him and put things back in order.”
“Henry could have been drugged,” I said, shrugging.“I keep trying to think how you can get a gun pressed to his temple without him struggling.”
“There’s no visible bruising around the gunshot wound, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t incapacitated in another way.Cheap shot to the back of the head with the butt of the gun would do it.We don’t know if there were any other wounds on the body since there was no autopsy.”
“The list of things we don’t know is getting longer.”
“That’s usually how it goes,” he said.“But you’re opening your mind to new theories.That’s the best way to start.”
He picked up a sealed manila envelope from his desk and handed it to me.“I made you copies, and I’ll email over the scanned photographs.”
“That’s very helpful,” I said.“I should probably get going.I’m sure you have a lot to do.”
“Want some coffee?”he asked.
I would rather drink dishwater, but I wasn’t quite ready to leave either, so I said, “Sure.”
He grinned, obviously reading the expression on my face, and went to the corner table where an ancient coffee maker sat blinking at us like it was offended to be alive.He poured two mugs and doctored it just how I like it, and I felt myself sigh at the thoughtfulness, even though I knew it was still going to strip the lining from my stomach.
He handed me a mug and I took a shallow sip.I gave him a smile I hoped looked like gratitude.
He sat back down and watched me over the rim of his own mug, and his lips twitched as he watched me take another sip.
“So what’s next on your list?”he asked.“You always have a list.”
“I’m going to stop by Henry’s old practice on Broad Street.I want to see the building and get a feel for things.I want to get to know Henry.I figure I can pretend I need a new doctor and get a look around inside.And people on this island have long memories.Maybe someone will remember Henry enough to tell me about him.”
“I worked a case like this once,” he said.
I waited.Over the few months I’d known Dash, he had shared very little information about himself, especially when it came to work.He was a master at diverting conversations in a new direction when things were getting too personal.I thought about the envelope I’d hidden in my kitchen drawer.Bea had gathered information on him and handed me the contents, but I hadn’t opened it.Not yet.I still had hope that Dash would tell me about whatever dirt Bea had managed to dig up himself.
“Hmm,” I said, not wanting to scare him off from finishing the story.
“Seattle.It was a suspected suicide.Dirty cop.Looked open and shut.He was facing prison and most people figured he didn’t have much to live for.”
“And the truth?”
“He was getting ready to flip.Cutting a deal with the DA.Going to give up the rest of the corrupt cops.”Dash set his mug on the corner of his desk.“Somebody walked into his house and made it look like he’d done it himself.”
“They killed him before he could talk.”
Dash nodded.
I let that sit.Whatever Henry had been about to make right, at least according to what Josephine said, must have made someone very angry.
“What gave it away in the end?”I asked.
“One of the men he was going to flip on got nervous.Came in to deal himself before the others could.Once he started talking, the rest of it came apart.”
He looked through the window at the river, and his gaze seemed lost in memory.
