"Seems kind of like an open and shut case, doesn't it?" Tony commented to Ziva. The two were in Julie Lambard's apartment, standing in front of her swinging body. It seemed she had taken her own life by hanging herself from the fan in her living room.
The team had arrived at the apartment that afternoon to speak with her. When she didn't answer the door, they picked the lock and entered, shocked to find her dead and to find a suicide note typed up on her computer. In the note, Julie admitted to accidentally murdering Nathan when the two had argued about the treasure map. She claimed to have disposed of the map before killing herself, not wanting greed to affect anyone else who found it.
"There is no such thing, DiNozzo," Gibbs said gruffly.
"I agree," Ziva said. "This…it is all too neat. All of the loose ends are tied up."
"She was seen canoodling with Pfc. Robinson, Ziva, and we have a confession."
"A typed confession, Tony. Anyone could have written that. And why would she steal the map only to get rid of it and kill herself?"
He shrugged, snapping another picture. "Didn't you say her alibi had checked out?"
It was true. Julie Lambard had been with Rick Watson and Patricia Kroger at the time of Pfc. Robinson's murder. "Assuming that Watson and Kroger aren't covering for her, it does not seem as though she could have murdered Pfc. Robinson."
"Obviously, someone wasn't aware that she had an airtight alibi," Gibbs said.
"Another tragic death associated with our treasure map, I see," Ducky commented as he entered, Jimmy not far behind.
"It would seem that way, Ducky," Tony told him, pointing the ME to the body.
"Ah, yes. And a beautiful young woman. Terrible how much damage greed can do."
"Well, it is a deadly sin, Doctor," Jimmy commented. "Uh, not that you didn't know that…I'm sure you did…"
"Liver probe, Mr. Palmer."
"Uh, yes, Doctor."
As Jimmy dug through the bag, Ducky took a moment to assess the scene. "On the surface, I would guess that cause of death was strangulation caused by the cord wrapped around her neck."
"You think it could have been something else, Ducky?"
"In my profession, Anthony, one cannot assume cause of death. In fact, I recall a case I worked on years ago. A woman was found with her neck broken. It wasn't until the autopsy that I saw she had been poisoned. You see, her lover had–"
"Got a TOD yet, Duck?
"When I do, I will let you know, Jethro."
Ziva stood from the computer where she had been dusting for prints. "I was able to lift some prints."
"And I'm done with pictures," Tony announced.
"I want you to go through Ms. Lambard's trash for the map."
"We already did, boss. It's a dead end."
"Then have the superintendent let you into the trash room so you can go through that."
"Ha, you're joking right?"
"Do I strike you as the joking type, Tony?"
"…I guess not."
"Jethro! TOD is 1320!"
"That matches the time stamp on this document," Ziva said, pointing to the note that was still up on the computer screen.
"I want you to get that back to Abby. Maybe she'll find something of use."
Ducky stood. "Well, Mr. Palmer, why don't you get the gurney up here so we can transport Ms. Lambard to our humble quarters."
Gibbs knelt down beside the body, looking at the harsh red lines that were imprinted against her neck. "Think this was suicide, Duck?"
"It's impossible to say at this point. The cord wrapped around her neck matches the bruises and marks let on her neck, but that's hardly conclusive." Ducky looked up and saw the special agent's steely glare. "What is your gut telling you, Jethro?"
Gibbs didn't immediately reply. He was still looking over the body, hoping for some sign of what had really happened here. He stood, looking to Ducky. "It's telling me that map didn't leave this apartment in a garbage bag."
The conference room was much more packed than the conference rooms for the earlier lectures had been. Tim estimated that only thirty people in total had attended the lectures given by Leslie Fargo and Craig Parlay. Randy Veux's lecture was set to begin in ten minutes and there were already over fifty people present. Like Myrna had said, no true mystery enthusiast would pass up the chance to hear Veux speak. He was the Messiah for mystery writers and wannabe mystery writers alike.
Tim had arrived early to stake out a good spot. Craig Parlay's lecture had been far more boring than he'd thought it would be – and Leslie Fargo's had been only slightly better – and he almost regretted not accepting Myrna's invitation to play hooky and scour the nearby bookstore. If he had, maybe he wouldn't have gotten cornered by the Frichters, who had talked nonstop about their writing process, which included letting their children – who were no older than eight – write bits and pieces of dialogue to give it a sense of "realism."
"Hey, McGee," Abby's voice echoed in his ear. "I'm back."
Tim didn't reply, though his mood did sour somewhat. He'd hoped to go more than an hour without Abby, Gibbs, or anyone else listening in on his conversations.
"Thought I should tell you that Julie Lambard, the events coordinator for the hotel, is dead." Tim sat up upon hearing that, and listened intently to what he was being told. "It looks like it was suicide, but Gibbs doesn't believe it. She also had a typed suicide note on her computer in which she admitted to the murder of Pfc. Robinson. But the map that Tony is still MIA, so Gibbs still wants you to wired up."
His shoulders slumped. He had been so close to being able to enjoy his weekend, only to have it snapped back at the last moment. Though, he knew it was best to err on the safe side, at least until they were certain beyond reasonable doubt that the murderer had been found.
As a group of last minute stragglers trickled in, Myrna broke through the throng of people, carrying a plastic bag that looked to be very weighed down with books. Tim raised his hand to catch her attention and beckoned her over.
"I saved you a seat," he said, standing to once again pull her chair out for her.
Myrna placed the filled bag on the table and took her seat, thanking him once again. "I feel like I've been on my feet for the past three hours."
"I take it the bookstore was a hit."
Her eyes lit up excitedly. "You should have come! I found this great book about Margaret Utinsky;" she said, pulling out the books and showing them off the way a child shows off his drawings to a parent, "I found a copy of Ten Little Indians from back when it was actually called Ten Little Indians; I found a book of fairy tales by the Brothers Grimm. It was a cornucopia of great finds!"
Tim grabbed one of the books from off the table and looked it over. "Thursday Next? First Among Sequels?"
Myrna blushed slightly, taking the book from his grasp. "Yeah, I'm a big fan of the Thursday Next series."
"Never heard of it."
"It's really good. It's kind of a mixture of sci-fi, mystery, fantasy, and classic novel. Very whimsical and funny."
Myrna busied herself by putting her purchases back into the bag. "So did I miss much?"
Tim grimaced as he recalled how he had spent the last two hours. "Craig Parlay's lecture was worse than Leslie Fargo's."
"Wow, that's pretty bad," she said, raising her eyebrows. "So I bet you wish you'd come with me, huh?" Her voice dripped with a slight tone of flirtation.
"Yeah, I do," he replied with a small smile, causing her to look away shyly.
"Well, the store opens really early, so if you want to go tomorrow before the brunch, I'd be happy to take you there. Or, I guess you could go alone."
"No! I mean, I'd like to go with you. It sounds like a nice place." Anyone who was listening to the conversation wouldn't think the duo was talking about a small bookstore that was very out of place among the thriving chain stores that surrounded it.
Abby giggled in his ear. "She's totally digging you, McGee," she whispered.
Patricia Kroger appeared at the front of the room, tapping the podium's microphone to get everyone's attention. "Hello!" she chirped as the audience fell silent. "Thank you all for your enthusiasm for our wonderful guest speakers. This will be our last speaker for the day and then we will see all of you tonight at our dinner. So now it is my honor to introduce Mr. Randy Veux!" The room broke into a raucous applause as Mr. Vexu took his place behind the podium. Behind him, Tim heard a few hoots and whistles from other fans.
"Thank you," he said humbly as they quieted down. "The honor here is all mine. The Mystery and Crime Novelist Association was good to me when I was just starting out, and I'm happy to be of help to other up and coming writers.
"I'd like to start off by giving you a little background on my experience in getting published…"
AN: I just wanted to take a moment to thank all of my readers and reviewers! I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your feedback! Thank you all!
