I stepped out of the vehicle and strode into the police station, heading straight for the forensics lab.
No one stopped me, of course; everyone knew me. In fact, most knew better than to bother me when I was in the police station. There was a reason for it? I had a few ideas why.
"Ash!" The short and petite Doctor Travis greeted me once he opened the cold metal doors of the forensics lab. "It's been a while." The two of us greeted each other.
"So tell me," I started, "did Robert truly die of a heart attack?"
Doctor Travis smiled brightly. "Of course he did."
"Can you prove it?"
"It's quite easy to tell. But of course, many things could have caused the heart attack," Doctor Travis concluded as he began to tap his pen against his clipboard furiously. I noticed that the man tended to do it when he was likely excited about something.
"How about the other deceased? Uh... harder to fully determine... but Robert! Now Robert, it's quite easy; it was a heart attack. You can take it to the bank!"
I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the doctor's excited outburst. "I'm more interested in the dead man sitting across from Robert. What did he die of?"
"Like I said, Ash, we don't know yet."
"Have you performed an autopsy?"
"Of course we have. We're not children, you know, and this is not our first rodeo."
"So, what killed the man?"
"Honestly... all we know is that the man's blood stopped flowing 72 hours before. The cause of death is still unknown. But once your blood stops flowing, you're dead," the man added with a nervous laughter at the end of his statement.
"You know, the Colonel was asking me the same questions. Quite a harsh man, in my opinion. But it's the same answer. His blood stopped flowing, so he was dead. But even if I have a witness."
I scratched my beard profusely, "let's say I have a witness," I repeated myself, "let us… me…let me say I have a witness, and the witness saw the dead man, who has been dead according to you for 72 hours. The man's blood had stopped flowing."
Doctor Travis interrupted, "Ash, if the blood stopped flowing before 72 hours, let's say I have a witness. Let's say this witness saw the dead man walk into Robert's office. And ask him questions... do you believe this witness?"
Travis lowered his glasses to look at me with bright brown eyes.
"The witness is telling the truth. It's concrete evidence, Doctor."
"Fine. The fact that a dead man walked into a living man's office... one with a history of heart disease, is definitive. There's no way... there's no how," the doctor waved his hand as to dismiss me.
"Even a healthy man would get a heart attack over something like that, how much more a man with heart disease. That itself is murder!"
"I want to see the body," I declared as I began to pace the length of the cold grey room of the forensics lab.
Sure, this way," the doctor gestured for me to follow him through a set of grey double metal doors that led deeper into the lab and then to the morgue.
The doctor proceeded to drag out one of the cold compartments that held what I believed was the body of Mr. James. It was just as I thought: the body was stiff, cold, and very dead.
The doctor pulled down the white cloth that covered the stiff corpse. Mr. James was older than Robert; if my memory served me right, there was about a four-year difference between them.
Mr. James had been lacking in the hair department, both on his head and his chin, making the man shave it off a few years back.
I remembered clearly when James had begun a fitness campaign to raise money for his political aspirations nearly a decade back. It was no surprise that the man had long since forgotten the aspirations, making him several kilograms short of chubby.
There was a Y-shaped mark on the man's chest that had been stapled shut, signifying that an autopsy had been done just as the doctor had said.
I began to seriously doubt the testimony of young Michael. The body was extremely dead. Lifeless. It was a tall tale for him to believe such a thing.
I began to tap on my bearded chin. The scratchy, brittle hair put my mind to work instantly. "I need to talk to the butler and the manservant," I stated.
The doctor shook his head. "You're going to need the coroner's approval for that. I hear the police chief has washed his hands of the madness. I think some reporters got wind of the situation."
I was no longer listening. "I don't care about the colonel," I muttered.
The doctor threw his hands up in surrender. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you. The colonel has already gone around telling everyone how you pushed him and threw him to the floor."
"I didn't punch him," I defended myself as I trailed behind the doctor. "The madman punched me."
"Look," I was looking for the spot where Jack had grazed my cheek earlier. Granted, the pain had subsided to a dull throb, but it was still there.
The doctor made no move to turn around; he just waved his hand and continued leading me to the holding area where those awaiting trial were kept.
He stopped as soon as he came to stand in front of a desk. "This is where I leave you," the doctor bid me goodbye.
"Yes?" the bored officer sitting behind the desk asked.
"I would like to see a butler. I believe he was brought in from St. John's Estate earlier today," I replied.
The officer nodded his head and began to look through his desk. "Fill out this card, please," he gestured towards a card that he slid in front of me.
I began to furiously write, fearing that somehow the colonel would sneak up behind me and bark into my ears. The barking didn't happen, nor did the sneakiness.
With a breath of relief, I handed the filled card to the officer and waited in hopes that the officer would let me through.
The man on the other end of the desk took his time, reading word for word the details, until he suddenly stopped, picked up the phone, and began to mumble.
I guessed as much that it was the colonel he was speaking to because not long after, I heard the stomping sound of approaching footsteps followed by the colonel yelling my name.
The colonel's slightly bronze skin, from standing out in the sun for many years, had now turned pink with anger.
"Just what are you trying to do, you rascal? Do you really want to undermine my authority? In my own bloody station? I'll show you, you will not mess with me!"
I held out my hands as I tried to think of a way to calm the raging man down. "I'm not trying to undermine anything, and I do apologize for the incident in my office. But I wanted to talk to the butler and the manservant again."
The colonel vehemently shook his head. The pink hue behind his bronze skin was quickly fading, making me think that the anger was disappearing.
"They are not allowed to meet with anyone. And especially not you," he pointed at me and glared at me.
"Colonel, if my memory serves me right, they are merely suspects. Last time I checked, suspects can be allowed to meet with anyone. In fact, if they are refused visitors, the person in charge can be taken to court," I widened my eyes for emphasis.
The colonel looked visibly uncomfortable, and that was what I was aiming for.
"Besides, you can simply monitor us. You'll be right there the whole time," I added after the long silence.
"I'm warning you. Stay away from this case, you hear me?" The colonel pointed a finger at me and shot me another stern look.
"I assure you, this is not about the case. It's about the fact that something has piqued my curiosity and I simply wish to put myself at ease."
Of course, I was not entirely lying. I did want to satisfy my curiosity, but the quest was just as tied to the case as Jack was.
Jack looked convinced enough. "Fine. Come with me. And no funny business," he added as he led the way through the hallway lined by prison cells.
We stopped in front of one. I began to pace as I listened to the giggling sounds of keys and then the sound of confinement.
I stepped into the slim cell that was furnished with one bunk bed that currently housed both the butler and the manservant.
They were just as I remembered. The key difference, however, was that the sleek look the butler had was quickly giving way to a disheveled appearance and their ironed uniforms were already rough.
"I'm sure you gentlemen remember me," I sat on the wooden chair that was positioned in front of a wooden table by the wall.
"It's hard to forget the man that locked us in here," the butler didn't look as angry as the manservant, who stayed silent and glared at me.
"I'm sure you would have done the same. Besides, I merely suggested you be held, not imprisoned. That part was his idea," I pointed to Jack who stood as straight as a pole by the door.
"But let's compare notes, shall we?" I sat up straighter, the action was mirrored by the butler on the lower bunk.
"Do you know Mr. Frank?"
"Yes. He's married to Mr. Robert's niece, Laura." The butler looked as though he couldn't believe he was being asked such a question. I couldn't blame the man; after all, the wedding was the talk of the town all those years ago.
"Tell me again. How did the visitor get there?"
The butler huffed and rolled his eyes. "I've told you over and over again. Greg, tell him."
The manservant sat up in the bed. "I opened the door. I told you, the man said he had an appointment with Master Robert. I asked Master Robert. Master Robert said it was fine. You know, I consider myself so unlucky to have been on duty. None of this would have happened."
"How did he get there?" I leaned forward until my elbows were on my knees as I scrutinized the manservant.
The slightly older man was not nearly as composed as the butler, but his eyes shone with intelligence that I was too blind to see earlier.
"Who?"
"The dead man. How did he get to the mansion? Surely your security must have seen him. You must have seen him if he exited from a car…"
The manservant looked like he had seen a ghost. His face was pale, and beads of sweat had started to run down the sides of his face.
"A car…" the man repeated and began to tug at his collar.
"There was a car." The man's eyes suddenly glinted with recognition.
"What type of car was it?" I pressed further.
"I don't know. You know the area was quite dark and hilly. There were a lot of trees... but I remember that the car was reversing."
"Reversing," I began to muse.
"That could mean nothing. It could mean that you hired a driver to bring him there!" Jack began again with his needless additions.
"I'm not lying. We've been inside the mansion for days. Seven days!"
The voices faded into a distant sound as my mind began to work at breakneck speed. A car means someone brought him there, I thought. It meant that the two men in the cell were mostly cleared of suspicion.