She punched and slapped at him until Kelly pinned her arms to her sides. She slumped against him, sobbing.
Decker looked first at Kelly and then at the dead man.
Well, I didn’t see that one coming.
THE ROOM AT THE POLICE STATIONcontained three people but was quiet other than the sounds of comingled breathing.
Decker, Jamison, and Kelly sat there staring at the scuffed linoleum-tile floor.
It was early in the morning, the dawn not yet broken, and Walt Southern’s body was on a gurney in his funeral home. A stricken Liz Southern was at the home of friends. Another coroner from Williston was traveling to do the post, though everyone in the room knew the exact cause of the man’s death.
He had scrawled a note, which they’d found on his desk: “I’m sorry for everything. I hate myself. I—”
He obviously had chosen not to finish it.
“So why?” asked Kelly. “Was he really compromised?”
Decker said, “Clearly somebody made him fudge the post results to throw us off. First, with Cramer having ingested something, and then with Ames’s going out there to meet with Parker. It wasn’t for sex, it was for information. They blackmailed Walt to leave out the parts of the autopsy that would have led us to know that.”
“Do you think Walt really wasblackmailed?” asked Kelly. “Maybe they just paid him off.”
“People doing this sort of thing for cash don’t usually blow their heads off when they’re discovered. They try to cut a deal by ratting on whoever paid them. And despite what I told Southern, we had no direct proof that he did anything intentionally wrong. I just called him on it, and he reacted the way he did. It was clearly because of a guilty conscience. Just look at the suicide note. ‘Sorry for everything’? ‘I hate myself’?” He added, “But I didn’t think he’d kill himself over it. I was clearly wrong about that.”
“So what did he have a guilty conscience about?” asked Jamison.
“For that, we’re going to have to talk to his wife,” answered Decker.
* * *
Later that evening Liz Southern looked pale and worn as she sat up in the bed of a guest room in a house belonging to a close friend of hers. She cradled a large cup of tea, and her bloodshot eyes spoke of the misery she was enduring. She looked at Decker with an unfriendly gaze as he sat down next to the bed. Kelly and Jamison stood immediately behind him.
“You couldn’t wait even one damn day?” she said harshly. “My husband killed himself!”
“If we could wait, we would. But we can’t. So anything you can tell us will be much appreciated.”
“I don’t know why Walt did what he did.”
Decker leaned forward in his chair. “Then let’s work through it together. Starting with what he wrote in the note.”
Southern closed her eyes and sighed.
“It’s important, Liz,” chimed in Kelly.
“I know that, Joe!” she snapped, her eyes now open and blazing at him.
Decker cleared his throat. “If Walt was forced to fudge the autopsy results for Cramer and Ames, we need to know how and by whom.”
“I have no idea why he would do that. I still don’t believe that he did intentionally mess up those reports. If it’s anyone’s fault he’s dead, it’s yours! You accused him of all those terrible things.”
Decker sat back, not looking convinced. “If the guy was innocent of what I accused him, no way he’s taking his own life. Before he walked out of the room he mentioned his lawyer. That’s not a guy looking to off himself over what I said.”
“Then why would he kill himself instead of calling his lawyer?” she shot back.
“I think he was just blustering, grasping at anything he could in the heat of the moment. I think as he walked to his office, reality set in. And that’s when he made his decision.”
“You really want me to provide dirt on my dead husband? Is that what you’re asking me to do?” she added shrilly.
“What I’m asking you to do is help us solve a series of murders. And whoever blackmailed your husband and drove him to kill himself deserves to be punished. We need your help to get to them.”