At Rope's End (A Dr. James Verraday Mystery #1)(55)

“No, I checked everywhere.”

Maclean took a package of tongue depressors from her shoulder bag and pulled one out. With the depressor, she flipped the rat over on its back and pushed the fur away from the wound.

“That wound wasn’t caused by another animal. That’s man-made. I used to help my dad dress the geese and deer he had shot. I’d say this cut was made by a hunting knife.”

“I’ve worked with plenty of rats in labs,” said Verraday. “If this thing is anywhere near as bright as its cousins, there’s nothing in the world that could get it to hold still while someone slit its throat.”

“It was already dead when this cut was made. Poisoned,” said Maclean. “See how there’s blood around its nose? That’s from an anticoagulant. Somebody poisoned this rat and slit its throat after it died.”

Verraday sucked in a breath. “Nice.”

“You ever had anything like this happen before? Any harassment in the past?”

“No, never. But there are definitely people who have an axe to grind with me. Top of the list is Bosko. He’d be able to figure out where I live. Can you send the rat to a lab for analysis? Maybe whoever did this was careless enough to leave some clues.”

Maclean looked at him sympathetically, but with finality. “Theoretically the lab could look for human DNA or threads from clothing or carpet. But this is basically a nuisance case. It’s pretty minor even as vandalism goes. Wild rats aren’t protected under the Animal Welfare Act, so there’s no law being broken on that side. As creepy as this is, the city would view it as less serious and destructive than tagging. On top of that, you haven’t received any verbal or written threat.”

“So the answer is no?”

“Sorry.”

“But somebody’s been leaving my gate open. Seems like an odd coincidence.”

Maclean gazed at the rat again, then turned to Verraday. “You ever own a cat?”

“No,” he replied.

“Well, I did, when I was a kid. It used to catch mice and chipmunks and leave them on our doorstep.”

“Gross.”

“It’s just an instinctive feline behavior. A form of intimacy. The cat is not only sharing its kill with what it perceives as its family, it’s encouraging its partner or offspring to join in the hunt. Do you have an alarm system?”

“No. Statistically this neighborhood has one of the lowest burglary rates in Seattle.”

“Well, statistics or not, my advice is to get one.”

“I don’t really like having strangers in my house.”

“James, that’s why people get alarms installed. Promise me you’ll do it?”

“Okay.”

“Now, I’m going to swing by Cody’s, bring him in for questioning.”

“Don’t you ever sleep?”

“Not when I’m this close.”

“Can I ride along?”

“Love to have you there, James, but it could get dangerous.”

“That’s why I want to come along.”

“I’m not going in alone. I’ll bring two uniformed officers. They’d want to know who you are, and it would raise questions. But if we crack this case, they’ll be kissing your ass down at city hall, lawsuit or not. So don’t worry. You’ll get your chance.”

“All right, but only because you say so.”

“I insist so.”

Maclean donned her Burberry coat, and Verraday held the door open for her.

“Good luck,” he said. “Let me know what happens as soon as you can.”

“I will,” she replied, touching him lightly on the shoulder as she crossed the threshold onto the front porch. “And thanks for your help.”

The solar garden lamps were dim as usual, so he turned on the porch light to help guide her down the path. He stood in the doorway, watching as she got into the Interceptor. She leaned over to the passenger’s side and, in silhouette, waved to him. He returned her gesture, then watched as she pulled away from the curb and, in typical fashion, quickly accelerated to what he guessed was several miles an hour over the speed limit. He watched her until she turned the corner at the end of the block. Only then did he close the door and turn off the porch light.

*

Verraday was about halfway through the bottle of Sicilian wine when his cell rang. It was Maclean.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I checked out the address that Cody’s felon employment program showed as his residence.”

“You have backup with you?” Verraday asked, trying not to betray the concern in his voice but not quite pulling it off.

“I’ve already left the address. But yes, I had two patrolmen with me and I still do. The only thing missing was the suspect. The place was empty. Literally. It’s a ground-floor apartment with nothing in it. Not a stick of furniture. I called Jason Griffin twice but didn’t get an answer. We’re outside his condo now. The lights are off. I’ve been knocking on the door for the last five minutes. I sent a unit out to the airport to check on the Griffinair hangar. There was nobody there either. I’m putting out an APB on Cody North.”





CHAPTER 26


Maclean and Verraday pulled up in front of the Griffinair hangar ten minutes before its official opening time of eight AM. They got out and Maclean tried the front door, but it was locked, and there was no response from within. There were bars over the windows and blackout blinds, so it was impossible to see inside the building.