Malice

by C. M. Sutter

  Chapter 3

  “What have we got, Sergeant Franklin?” Joe Torres opened the door of the medical examiner’s van and stepped off the running board. He shielded his eyes from the sun glaring down on the cement driveway.

  Paul made the introductions between the county ME and the Realtor, who stood to his right, and the shaken couple standing several feet away. He summarized what he saw in the master bedroom then excused himself when the forensic team headed for the front door.

  Before entering the house, Paul called out to his partner, who had just returned from clearing the property’s perimeter and the backyard shed. “Hey, Don, would you mind finding a slice of shade and taking their official statements while I walk the forensic team through the house?”

  “Sure thing. Folks, right over here, please.”

  Paul waited on the porch as the ME and the forensic team of three covered their hands and feet before entering the house. “I’ve already done the initial sweep of the premises and found nothing other than here at the foyer, where the assault likely began, the path through the hallway, where it appears she’d tried to flee, and the master bedroom. Blood-smeared handprints cover both sides of the hallway wall.”

  Todd Mills, a member of the forensic team, added his opinion. “That in itself is odd if the victim was running for their life. Normally they’d head in a straight line for the safest area.”

  Paul nodded. “I think her body will explain that to you. Right this way. The homeowner met her death in the master bedroom. It’s a gruesome scene, that’s for sure.”

  The ME spoke up as they followed through the hallway with blue booties covering their feet. “She’s obviously been dead a while. The presence of these damn blowflies and the odor—”

  “I came to the same conclusion, Joe.” Paul pointed at the master bedroom and stepped out of the way. “She’s in there.”

  At Paul’s back, heavy footsteps were coming quickly down the hallway. He glanced over his shoulder. Captain Kip Hardy was wearing a scowl and heading toward him.

  Paul pushed off the doorframe of the linen closet, unfolded his arms, and stood up straight. “Cap.”

  “What the hell is going on here? A vicious murder in this storybook neighborhood? That’s unheard of.” Captain Hardy passed by Paul and entered the bedroom as he yanked a pair of gloves out of his pants pocket and slipped them over his sausage-sized fingers. “Holy shit.” He stared at the woman’s mutilated body lying on the bed then turned back to Paul. “Who is she? What’s her story?”

  “We haven’t gotten that far, sir. The call came in only thirty minutes ago.”

  Hardy raked his fingers through his gray-tipped hair. “Get her name from that Realtor outside. Is she married, single, divorced, or in a bad relationship? Have Lyles pull up her name on the cruiser’s computer and see if she has a jacket. Find out if there’s ever been a police call to this house or a restraining order filed at this residence and, if so, against whom. Let’s get the ball rolling.” He twirled his index finger then pointed in the direction of the front door. Paul disappeared down the hallway. “What’s her body telling you, Joe?”

  The ME stepped away from the body momentarily and joined Captain Hardy near the master bath doorway. “I’ll know more once I get her on the table, but under initial exam, I’d say she’s been deceased for several days. The lividity showing on her underside tells me she was here, on this bed, and in this position when she died. Her rigor has almost subsided, which normally takes between thirty-six and forty-eight hours. Then of course, there’s the smell of decomposition too.”

  Joe and Captain Hardy returned to the body. Joe pointed at the knife wounds. “Looking closely, you can see the maggots inside the injured areas. I’d venture to say they’re in the second stages of development, meaning around two days in. She has a large number of stab wounds, primarily to the throat area. Take that however you’d like, but we both know that knife wounds are usually personal and indicate rage toward the victim. Your investigation will lead you in the right direction, just keep that in mind.”

  Captain Hardy sighed as he stared down at the woman’s body. “Yeah, I know. What I need to find out now is what she did to piss off somebody that much and who committed the crime.”

  Paul reentered the bedroom as the captain was walking out. “I don’t have much, boss, other than her name, age, and how long she’s lived here.” He looked down at his notes. “Her name is Sarah Cummings, she’s thirty-seven years old, and she’s lived at this address for nine years. She’s squeaky clean, no priors, and unfortunately her husband was killed in a car accident last spring. Maybe that’s why the house is for sale.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Hardy scratched his chin and let out a puff of air.

  “We have no record of her ever filing a restraining order against anyone, and there’s never been a police call to this residence.”

  “Okay, find out who her next of kin is and if there are children involved. Gather the officers out front and get them started on a neighborhood knock and talk. Interview everyone on both sides of this street, a block in each direction, as well as the street that runs behind these homes. A backyard neighbor may have seen someone walking through the yards without realizing that it was our suspect. I’m heading back to the station to do more digging, and I want an update call”—he checked his watch—“by five o’clock. Cut those people loose but get me that Realtor’s card and the written statements that Lyles took. I want to review everything myself. You and Lyles are on point for the day. Andrews and Tyler are working another case, but I’ll update them when I get back to the station. Make sure you two stay here until the house is sealed by Forensics.”

  “You’ve got it, Cap.”

  With the statements and Realtor’s business card pressed into his pants pocket, Captain Hardy climbed into his cruiser and sped away.

  Back at his desk twenty minutes later, and with a fresh cup of stale coffee, Kip Hardy began reviewing the statements provided by the Grants and Bob Flannery. He rubbed his furrowed brow as he read. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary except that a violent murder had taken place at that clean-cut thirty-seven-year-old woman’s house in a no-crime neighborhood.

  “What was going on in your life, Sarah Cummings, and who had it out for you?”

  He tapped the Realtor’s card against his desk then noticed that Bob Flannery worked for Citywide Realty, not the company on the For Sale sign. Hardy pressed the number four button on his desk phone.

  “This is Detective Andrews. How may I help you?”

  “Fred, it’s Hardy. I need your input. Got a minute?”

  “Sure, Cap, I’ll be right there. Need a coffee?”

  “Nah, don’t bother. I already have a cup. It’s gray and tastes like shit.”

  “Perfect. I’ll grab myself one and see you in two minutes.”

  Chapter 4

  A knock sounded on his office door, and Captain Hardy called out, “Come on in, Fred. Have a seat and explain to me how the real estate industry works.”

  “Going to start moonlighting?” The padded vinyl chair seat let out a gush of air when Fred planted himself on it.

  Hardy smirked. “Wish I had that kind of time. Nah, you must know something about it, though. How long has Lisa been a Realtor?”

  “It’s going on fourteen years, and she still loves it. What do you need to know?”

  “It’s related to a case that came in this morning. Dead homeowner found by the Realtor who was about to show her house.”

  Fred groaned. “I’m guessing it wasn’t from natural causes. That’s the part that worries me about Lisa’s job. You just never know who’s going to show up to tour a house.”

  Kip slid Bob Flannery’s card across his desk to Fred. “How does it work? He’s employed at Citywide Realty, but the sign outside the house is from Scenic View Realty.”

  “Yeah, MLS is why. Any agency can show the house, not just the listing company. More Realtors involved means more potential people in the buy
er’s pool.”

  Kip grimaced after swallowing a gulp of his cold, stale coffee. “Damn that’s bad. Anyway, what does MLS stand for again?”

  “Multiple Listing Service, and it’s a very effective selling tool. The greater Omaha area probably has fifty or more real estate companies listed online and in the yellow pages. The buyer’s agent already has their client’s wish list and can zero in on exactly what they’re looking for in a home. Houses sell faster using MLS than when a homeowner puts a sign in their front yard. They just don’t have enough resources at their disposal to sell it themselves.”

  “In other words, any agency or broker can show a house that’s listed with MLS?”

  “Exactly, but why would a real estate agent kill a homeowner? That’s ass-backward. Selling houses is how the Realtor earns their commission, not by murdering the homeowner.”

  “I know. I’m just wondering how many Realtors you and Tyler are going to have to interview who showed the house on Prentice Street. I’m going to need names of every potential buyer who did a walk-through of that home. Maybe instead of killing a Realtor, the psycho went back and killed the homeowner.”

  Fred shook his head. “I think you’re barking up the wrong tree, sir. As far as I know, the homeowners leave the premises when the houses are shown. That’s why Realtors sometimes find themselves in sticky situations. They’re in the house alone with who-knows-who.”

  “Family pictures placed throughout the house could tell the potential buyer who lives there.”

  Fred rubbed his chin. “True enough. Lisa says they encourage staging homes or putting away personal items, though.”

  Hardy pushed back his chair and stood then cocked his head toward the door. “Come on. Let’s hit the vending machine and buy some decent coffee. We need to update Tyler on this case. I have a feeling we’ll be working overtime tonight.”

  An hour later and with Brad Tyler on board, Hardy was interrupted by his ringing phone as he made calls to real estate agencies in Omaha and the surrounding suburbs. The captain glanced at the time on his wristwatch—5:00.

  “Take a five-minute break, guys. This has to be Franklin with an update.” The captain picked up the phone and placed it in the crook of his neck while he gathered a pen and a blank sheet of paper. “Hello, Paul. Tell me something useful.”

  “We’re striking a big fat zero, Cap. We’ve conducted interviews with the residents up and down both sides of the street as well as the homes that run along the backyards. Nobody saw or remembered hearing anything unusual in the last few days. The neighbors on either side and across the street from Sarah’s home said they don’t pay much attention anymore. They’re used to seeing people come and go because the house is on the market. I did find out where she worked, though.”

  Hardy lifted his pen. “Go ahead. I’m writing it down.”

  “She worked three days a week as a children’s storyteller at the Millard library.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Sorry, but no. Sarah was an upstanding citizen and well liked, according to the neighbors.”

  “Damn it. I have a feeling this is going to be a tough case to crack. Any word on the next of kin and where they’re located?”

  “Looks like most of the husband’s family is here in Nebraska,” Paul said.

  “And Sarah’s?” The captain scribbled notes as Paul spoke.

  “That took a little longer to track. We needed to find records of her maiden name first, which was Fleming. Apparently, she’s from upstate New York, where she was born and raised. Her family hasn’t been contacted yet. I thought I’d let you decide who would handle that, especially since Tyler and Andrews will end up as the lead investigators.”

  “Yeah, I’ll take on that responsibility. Meanwhile, I’ll get Tyler and Andrews to find out more on Scenic View Realty. It may be a privately owned company. Either way, whoever initially interviewed Sarah Cummings and walked the house before listing it might have more personal information about her intentions to sell the home. Has Forensics left yet?”

  “They’re wrapping up now and sealing the house. I thought you ought to know the latest, though.”

  Hardy leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh. Whatever Paul was about to say wouldn’t be what he wanted to hear. “Go ahead and tell me.”

  “The press is here with the TV vans. They want to know what happened.”

  “Shit. That didn’t take long. One of the neighbors probably leaked the information. You know the drill—ongoing investigation, yada, yada, yada. All they need to know is basic information, nothing else.”

  “Absolutely, Cap,”

  “Okay, pack it up. Send Patrol back to their duties and gather all the statements from the knock and talks. I want to look them over. We’re putting in overtime tonight, and that includes you and Lyles. Meet us in the conference room when you get back.” Hardy clicked off the call as Tyler and Andrews returned. The captain jerked his chin toward the door while he gathered his notes, several pens, and cell phone. “This office isn’t big enough for all of us. Let’s work in the conference room.” He turned his attention to Detective Tyler. “Brad, I want you to find out who owns Scenic View Realty and get them and the listing agent in here.”

  “You got it, sir.”

  Hardy addressed Fred as they walked the hallway. “Locate the nearest family members on the husband’s side. They need to be interviewed tonight.”

  Fred nodded. “Do you think Lisa would be any help to us with her real estate knowledge?”

  “Probably, but she’s a civilian, and we aren’t getting her involved. This may be a personal issue someone had against Sarah Cummings that had nothing to do with her house being for sale. Maybe a disgruntled coworker had a problem with her.”

  “Where was she employed?” Brad asked.

  “Would you believe at the Millard library? We’ll learn more when Paul and Don get here with the statements from the neighbors, but we can’t go off in a hundred different directions. Tonight, we’ll focus on the husband’s family and the people from Scenic View Realty and see where that leads us.”

  Chapter 5

  Captain Hardy glanced at the clock to his right—6:00 p.m. It was time to make that inevitable call, first to the nearest family members of Sarah’s deceased husband then to her own family in New York later.

  Sergeants Lyles and Franklin had arrived at the station a half hour earlier. Two detectives, two sergeants, and a handful of officers gathered in the conference room and waited for the captain’s return. He had stepped back into his office to make that heartbreaking call to the parents of Daniel Cummings.

  The door opened twenty minutes later, and a hush overtook the conference room. The group of men looked at Hardy and checked his expression. Law enforcement personnel never got used to being the bearers of bad news.

  The captain raked his hand through his hair and let out a long groan. “That was tough, especially since the Cummings family lost their own son just six months ago. I went ahead and called Sarah’s folks too. They have the right to know sooner rather than later, but I didn’t give them the morbid details over the phone, only that she was deceased. They’re catching the first flight in the morning. Fred, you’re in charge of the in-laws interview. They’ll be here in a half hour.”

  “Sure thing, boss. I’ll have Dana text me when they arrive.”

  Hardy nodded and continued talking while Fred stepped out to tell Dana Branco, the desk sergeant, who he was expecting and when. “Okay, people, I’m hoping for a solid lead tonight. Go through every statement twice and see if a common name pops up in any of them. I want to know every friend and coworker that was in Sarah’s inner circle. Lyles and Franklin, get to the Millard library and start interviewing her coworkers and supervisor. If they’ve left for the day, get their phone numbers and addresses and start banging on doors.” Hardy turned to Brad. “What’s going on with Scenic View Realty?”

  “It’s a privately owned real estate company, sir.
The owner is a local man named—” Brad flipped the page in his notepad—“William David Stewart.”

  “Did you talk to him?”

  “I have, and he’s on his way in. He sounded a bit perturbed.”

  Hardy smirked. “Really, in what way?”

  “Like we were interrupting his evening.”

  “Tough shit. A woman has been brutally murdered, and I’m sure we’re going to inconvenience a lot of people. What about the listing agent who did the initial interview and walked the house?”

  “He’s coming in with Mr. Stewart. They should arrive any minute.”

  “Good. I want everyone else to keep working on getting names from the Realtors who showed Sarah’s house.”

  Fred returned to the conference room and took his seat. “Cap, do you want to sit in on the interview with the Cummings family?”

  “Yeah, I think I should.”

  A faint buzz sounded, and everyone looked toward Brad as he pulled out his cell phone from his pocket. He read the text aloud. “Dana says Mr. Stewart and Mr. Nolan, the listing agent, have arrived.” Brad pushed back his chair and stood then headed toward the door. “Where do you want me to conduct the interview, sir?”

  “Take them into that empty office near the lunchroom. Make sure you have your recorder along.”

  “Got it.” Brad left the conference room and turned right at the hallway.

  Hardy slapped his hands together. “Okay, let’s get busy. Fred, we’ll interview Mr. and Mrs. Cummings in my office.” He tipped his wristwatch toward him. “They should be here soon. I’m heading back to my office to compile a list of questions. Bring them in when they arrive.”