A Broken Bone (Widow's Island #6) - Melinda Leigh Page 0,12
coffee, fat, and sugar hit his bloodstream, and he got comfortable.
“Carl’s last-known address is in Seattle. His driving record is clean. Here we go.” She unwrapped her soufflé and took a bite. “He has a record, but it’s old.” She scrolled. “Two years ago, he was arrested for stealing a car, but he got off with a fine and community service.”
“So he’s no choirboy,” Logan said. “What can I do?”
“Could you track down the owner of the house on Mimosa Street?” Tessa lifted her coffee, then started on her fritter. For the next two hours, she typed reports, and Logan searched online property and tax records. The house was owned by Bill Jones. His current address was listed as Bellingham, Washington. The phone number was a cell. Logan called him, introduced himself, and informed him of the body found in his cellar.
“Shit.” Bill cursed a few more times. “How will I unload a property that had two dead bodies in it?”
“Two?” Logan asked.
“Yeah,” Bill said. “The old guy who owned it died years ago. I bought the place for practically nothing from his kids. I planned to fix it up and sell it, but I ran out of money. Renovations cost more than I expected.”
“They always do.” Logan drank some coffee. “Do you know a man named Carl Hammer?” Logan asked.
“Nope,” Bill said. “Is that the dead guy?”
“We don’t think so, but his ID was found on the premises,” Logan said. “Are you aware of anyone living in the property?”
“No way. The house is supposed to be empty.”
“When was the last time you were on Widow’s?” Logan asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe two months ago.” Bill paused. “I can probably get the date from my credit card. I paid for the ferry online.”
“Could you do that?”
“Sure. Where can I send it?”
“I appreciate it.” Logan gave him Tessa’s email address. “Thanks.”
After ending the call, he turned to Tessa and relayed the information. “We can double-check with the ferry, but it’s only about three hours to Bellingham. There’s no reason he couldn’t have come over here more recently than two months ago.”
Tessa drained her cup. “If he starts to look like a suspect for other reasons, we can dive deeper into his vehicle records.”
Her phone rang. “It’s Henry.” She answered it. “Hey, Henry. Logan is here. You’re on speaker.”
“I just walked out of the autopsy.”
“Wow,” Tessa said. “That was fast.”
“It was first on the schedule.”
“And?” Logan asked. “What can you tell us?”
“I’ve attended autopsies before, but that was . . .” Henry paused. It sounded like he was swallowing. “Just bad. Really bad.” He cleared his throat. “The ME said he’ll get you a preliminary report in a few days, but I can give you the basics now.”
Tessa pulled a yellow legal pad from a drawer. “Go ahead.”
Henry continued. “From the eruption patterns of the wisdom teeth, the ME estimated the deceased to be a male adolescent approximately thirteen to sixteen years of age. Half of his mouth has extensive, recently completed dental work. The other half has extensive decay that has not been addressed. If we can locate the dentist who did the recent work, x-rays should be sufficient for an official ID.”
“Was the ME able to determine cause of death?” Tessa asked.
“Yes,” Henry said. “He was shot in the head at very close range.”
Tessa made a note. “Did the ME have any luck identifying him?”
“No, but he has a number of old injuries—possibly from abuse and/or neglect—that might help with that. He has a number of small bones that were broken and healed improperly, so he didn’t receive medical treatment for those. One of those injuries was a growth plate break. It was never set. The way the bone healed, he would have had one leg that was a little shorter than the other. He would have walked with a slight limp. If we had medical records, that injury alone would probably be enough for an identification.”
“That sounds familiar.” Tessa tapped her pen. She got up, crossed the room, and shuffled through a filing cabinet.
Logan thought of Bill Jones. “How long has he been dead?”
“Ten to fifteen days.” Henry sounded proud. His estimate had been close.
“Anything else we should be aware of?” Logan asked.
“No,” Henry said. “Do you have any specific questions?”
“We’ll call you if we do. Thanks, Henry.”
“I’ll be back on the next ferry.” Henry ended the call.
Tessa pulled a file. “I took a missing person report thirteen days ago.” She opened the file and returned to her desk. “Gavin