Simple Genius (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 3)

Hayes nodded approvingly while the ME glanced back at his notes.

Sean eyed Monk’s hands again. “Looks to be some trace on his hands.”

“Ground into the palm and fingers. Reddish fragments,” the ME said.

Using what amounted to a high-tech magnifying glass, the ME showed them the traces and then laid the dead man’s hand back down.

“Looks like rust stains. Could have come from climbing the chain link fence at Camp Peary,” Hayes said.

Sean looked at the ME. “You have the clothes he was wearing?”

They were produced and examined. A pair of black corduroy trousers, a cotton, blue-striped shirt, dark jacket with a hood, underwear, socks and muddy shoes.

Hayes handed Sean a small waterproof bag. “This was found next to the body. It’s been confirmed as belonging to Turing.” Inside were a blanket and a flashlight.

“He probably used the blanket to get over the razor wire on top of the fence,” Sean said, noting some tears on the fabric. “Still a dicey proposition. No cuts on the body from the wire?”

The ME shook his head.

“Surprised we didn’t find any gloves,” Hayes added. “I mean for getting over the fence and wire.”

“Well, if he had worn gloves we wouldn’t have his prints on the gun. It’s starting to look like he killed himself, Sheriff,” Sean said.

The ME looked up. “I can’t say for sure if it was suicide or not. Forensics can only go so far.”

Sean remarked, “Your report says that the wound was a near contact, not a contact wound. Also there are no defensive injuries on the victim or evidence that he was bound. Someone getting that close to the guy with the gun and him not defending himself? That’s a little implausible.”

“Could’ve been drugged,” Hayes suggested.

“Which was my next question,” Sean said. “What’s the tox report say?”

“Don’t have it back yet.”

“So we really can’t rule out suicide,” Sean said. “And if he did kill himself, why at Camp Peary? Any connection between him and the CIA? Did he ever work there? Did he want to but got rejected?”

Hayes shook his head. “We haven’t run that down yet.” He turned to the ME. “Do you have an approximate time of death on Rivest yet?”

“He wasn’t in the water all that long. Maybe five to six hours. There was what looked to be hemorrhagic edema fluid in his mouth. That indicates he died by drowning. When I open him I’ll be able to confirm that of course by water in his lungs.”

Hayes consulted his wristwatch. “Five to six hours. Based on when the body was discovered, if he wasn’t in the tub all that long before he drowned we’re looking at between one and two o’clock in the morning as the time of death.”

“Not that long after I left him,” Sean said. And that tallies with the time I might have seen Champ come home. “He’d had a lot to drink,” Sean volunteered. “Cocktails and some red wine.”

The ME noted this down. “Thanks.”

“Could he have been drunk enough to just pass out and drown himself? Wouldn’t the water going in his mouth and nose have woken him up?” Hayes asked.

The ME shook his head. “If he was unconscious from too much alcohol, the shock of the water would not have necessarily revived him.”

“I left him pretty much passed out. I wonder what made him decide to take a bath after he came to?” Sean said.

The ME said, “Maybe he threw up and decided to get cleaned up.”

Sean shook his head. “You’ve got puke all over you, you’re not going to wait for the bathtub to fill up. You’d jump in the shower.” As soon as he said it, Sean froze.

“Good point,” Hayes said, not catching the look on Sean’s face.

Back in the car Hayes said, “Where to now?”