ride from his case. He abruptly hung up and McCaleb never heard from him again.
McCaleb tore the few pages of notes from the case out of the notebook, put them in the file with the BAR form and returned the file to its spot. He then put the lid on the box and hoisted it back up onto the shelf that had been the top bunk. He shoved the box back into place and it banged hard on the bulkhead.
Sitting back down, McCaleb glanced at the frozen image on the television screen and then considered the blank page in the notebook. Finally, he took the pen out of his shirt pocket and was about to begin writing when the door to the room suddenly opened and Buddy Lockridge stood there.
“You okay?”
“What?”
“I heard all this banging. The whole boat moved.”
“I’m fine, Buddy, I just -”
“Oh, shit, what the hell is that?”
He was staring at the TV screen. McCaleb immediately raised the remote and killed the picture.
“Buddy, look, I told you this is confidential and I can’t -”
“Okay, okay, I know. I was just checking to make sure you didn’t keel over or something.”
“Okay, thanks, but I’m fine.”
“I’ll be up for a little while if you need something.”
“I won’t, but thanks.”
“You know, you’re using a lot of juice. You’re going to have to run the generator tomorrow after I split.”
“No problem. I’ll do it. I’ll see you later, Buddy.”
Buddy pointed at the now empty television screen.
“That’s a weird one.”
“Good-bye, Buddy,” McCaleb said impatiently.
He got up and closed the door while Lockridge was still standing there. This time he locked it. He returned to the seat and the notebook. He started writing and in a few moments he had constructed a list.
SCENE
Ligature Nude Head Wound Tape/Gag – “Cave”?
Bucket?
He studied the list for a few moments, waiting for an idea, but nothing came through. It was too early. Instinctively, he knew the wording on the tape was a key that he wouldn’t be able to turn until he had the complete message. He fought the urge to open the murder book and get to it. Instead, he turned the television back on and began running the tape from the spot he had left off. The camera was in and tight on the dead man’s mouth and the tape stretched tightly across it.
“We’ll leave this for the coroner,” Winston said. “You got what you can of this, Barn?”
“I got it,” said the unseen videographer.
“Okay, let’s pull back and look at these bindings.”
The camera traced the baling wire from the neck to the feet. The wire looped around the neck and passed through a slip knot. It then went down the spine to where it had been wrapped several times around the ankles, which had been pulled so far back that the victim’s heels now rested on his buttocks.
The wrists were bound with a separate length of wire that had been wrapped six times around and then pulled into a knot. The bindings had caused deep furrow marks in the skin of the wrists and ankles, indicating that the victim had struggled for a period before finally succumbing.
When the videography of the body was completed, Winston told the unseen man with the camera to make a video inventory of every room in the apartment.
The camera panned away from the body and took in the rest of the living room/dining room space. The home seemed to have been furnished out of a secondhand store. There was no uniformity, none of the pieces of furniture matched. The few framed pictures on the walls looked as though they could have come out of a room at a Howard Johnson’s ten years before – all orange and aqua pastels. At the far end of the room was a tall china cabinet with no china in it. There were some books on a few of the shelves but most were barren. On top of the cabinet was something McCaleb found curious. It was a two-foot-high owl that looked hand painted. McCaleb had seen many of these before, especially in Avalon Harbor and Cabrillo Marina. Most often the owls were
Heidi Hunter, Bad Boy Team