Camels and Corpses

by G. K. Parks

  “Nick, what’s going on?” He was still being vague, and I knew something was brewing.

  “Just get down here. We’ll talk about it when you arrive.”

  I hated surprises, but O’Connell hung up without giving me the opportunity to wheedle any answers out of him. After tossing some dark eye makeup into my purse, I put on my leather jacket and my knee-high leather boots, decided that was badass enough for the return of Alexandra Riley, and left my apartment.

  Going from zero to sixty would eventually result in a severe case of whiplash; although, having something to occupy my mind might just be enough to stave off the nightmares. This was just a rough patch, and once I moved past it, everything would be back to normal. Whatever that is.

  Ten

  I sat in the chair next to O’Connell’s desk, waiting for some acknowledgment and elaboration on the current situation. He looked up, attempting an unsuccessful smile. “I’m glad you prefer working with the people who do actual police work, instead of those jerks in their fancy buildings with their fancy suits and fancy credentials.”

  “Y’know, I stopped working for Martin Technologies a couple months ago.” My brow furrowed as I tried to figure out where the animosity was coming from.

  “Not them,” he said as if I were supposed to know what he was talking about. “The idiots with their badges and sunglasses and three letter acronyms. I have some three letter acronyms for them.” Thompson, O’Connell’s partner, chuckled from the next desk. “Anyway,” he still looked aggravated, “I’m glad you decided to grace us with your presence. We need someone to act as a go-between,” he dropped whatever he was doing and gave me his full attention, “but off the books. The lieutenant doesn’t have the budget to hire you to consult, but since you’re already working this, you might not mind.”

  “APS and I split paths the day you arrested the car thieves.” For some reason, I was ten steps behind. Maybe I wasn’t even on the same planet anymore. “Boredom was what made me dig through the other car thefts.” Narrowing my eyes, I studied him. “But you know this. We had lunch. I ranted and raved. You got me the case files.”

  His face contorted in sudden comprehension, and he obviously didn’t like the realization. “What have you been doing for the last four days?” he asked.

  “I’ve been camped out at Martin’s, enjoying some time off and driving myself absolutely crazy. Why? Where did you think I was?”

  “Shit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I raised my eyebrows and waited for something a little more telling than a string of expletives. “The four other car thefts you believed were related to Barlow were dead on. So dead on in fact that they traced back to two different homicides.” I put my hand over my mouth and shut my eyes, my head shaking at the declaration. “You remember the morning you came here and asked for some information on identifying Barlow? The double homicide I was called away on was in direct relation to one of those four vehicles.” I opened my eyes and inhaled deeply. “Parts of one of the other vehicles you had a hunch about were recovered from the scene of a second homicide.”

  “The Camel?” Ryan’s insistence that there was no connection was no longer true. Was he still here or did he get sent home? Who was investigating? What was being done?

  “Camel, Jackal, I’m sick of fucking animal names. Let’s call it what it is. We have a serial killer on the loose,” O’Connell whispered. “Everyone’s claiming jurisdiction. The European authorities want this guy. The FBI, OIO, and Interpol are throwing their hats in the ring. I swear I thought you were working on this with Agent Jablonsky and Frenchie.”

  “Is Donough still here? The last I heard, he was getting ready to return to Paris.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not like anyone thinks some lowly police detective should know a goddamn thing.” He snorted. “Meanwhile, it’s my job to protect this city. The lousy,” he mumbled the rest too low for anyone to hear.

  “Why didn’t you call sooner?” But the question was already answered. He thought I was consulting for the OIO or Interpol. “Never mind. Just point me in the right direction, and I’ll get you whatever you need.”

  “Parker, this isn’t your problem. Like you said, you’ve finished working this case.”

  I cocked a challenging eyebrow in his direction; there was no way I wouldn’t at least try to help. Lives were at stake. “Are Gregson, Barlow, and Claxton still in custody?” He nodded. “How much do they know?”

  “I can’t tell you.” Nick slammed his palm on the desk. “You’re a civilian, and it’s an ongoing investigation.” He turned and stared at Lieutenant Moretti’s office door. “Give me two minutes.” He stormed to the door and banged against it before going inside.

  “Y’know, before you got here, O’Connell was bitching about how you couldn’t be bothered to share any relevant information with us,” Thompson offered, glancing up from the desk. “Bet he feels like a real jackass right about now.”

  “Don’t say that too loudly. He has some major issues with animal names,” I retorted.

  While muffled words wafted from Moretti’s office, I hopped into O’Connell’s chair and opened a few of the files concerning the cars and the killer. Thompson didn’t stop me, and no one thought my presence was strange. Despite my private investigator status, I worked so many consulting gigs for the PD that they probably thought I was a cop. Unfortunately, the relevant information was safeguarded by individual password protection. Searching the various sticky notes and opening O’Connell’s top drawer, he wasn’t inexperienced enough to leave such information out in the open. Before I could ask Thompson for the login information, O’Connell returned.

  “Get away from my computer,” he ordered. “We’re taking a walk.”

  As soon as we were out of the squad room, I turned to him. “What’s the verdict?”

  “You’re a material witness and informant in an ongoing investigation, so the things you want to be privy to are considered need to know. Fortunately for you, I get to decide what you need to know.” As he led me to burglary division, he detailed the two crime scenes. “I’ll get the photos and evidence list to you soon, but it was gruesome.” Considering he worked in major crimes for years and had seen a lot of nasty things, his assessment didn’t bode well. “The way this guy does it is sick. I’ve read through some of Interpol’s reports. Contract killers normally favor execution style or even long distance rifles. They like to remain detached. It’s easier to get away. But this sick fuck gets up close and personal. He drugs them, dehydrates them, and then floods their systems so badly that the cells in their body literally explode. They turn into human soup.”

  “Holy shit.” I thought back. “Have you ruled out Barlow and the others as being the Camel?” Maybe Ryan got it wrong. He didn’t think they were connected, but coincidences never happen this frequently.

  “The second victim, well third, since the first two were part of a double homicide, was discovered after Barlow’s crew was in custody, but given the way the murders occurred, the medical examiner still can’t determine the time of death.” He met my eyes. “This is a bad one.” He practically stared through me. “The only consolation is he only kills when he’s hired, or at least that’s what the reports indicate.”

  “Do we know how his clients get in contact with him? Are you sure he’s still in the city? What about working up a profile, physical and psychological? Do we know his country of origin?” My mind was racing in a dozen directions, and he grabbed my shoulders to steady my thoughts.

  “Parker, look at me.” I stopped and focused on his eyes. “The only thing you’re going to do is have a chat with the car thieves. You can’t let on about any of this. We don’t know enough to risk tipping our hand or spooking him. Can you do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. First, burglary wants to talk to you about the cars. Then I’ll take you downstairs to holding and see if you can get anything helpful on the car thefts. We need to identify other players. Buyer
s would be great. Hell, if you can get any of them to elaborate on their whereabouts over the last few weeks, that might be helpful whenever we do get TODs. We’re taking this one step at a time.”

  I nodded. “Afterward, I’ll make a few calls. Since you’re the only one bothering to clue me in on the actual situation, maybe I’ll share my information with you.”

  He opened the door to burglary division and held it. “Hey, I was out of line, telling you to avoid Donough. It’s not my place, especially now that we might need his assistance.”

  “The only thing I’ve learned from the last four days is that avoidance is never the answer, and too much free time leads to utter misery. Idle hands, O’Connell. Idle hands.”

  After explaining to the lead detective in charge of the car thefts how I had drawn my conclusions, he attempted to bore me with unimportant details on security tracking systems, chop shop activity in the region, and the utter disregard manufacturers have for the ease of hacking into a car’s computer system and stealing it without any muss or fuss. Having extensively done my homework on all of these points and a good portion of his job for him, frankly, I couldn’t give a damn. I answered the few remaining questions, passed along the contact information for APS, Islind, and the legal counsel who negotiated with the DA’s office. From this point on, the stolen vehicles were secondary to locating and identifying our contract serial killer.

  “What’s the difference between a serial killer and a contract killer?” I asked.

  O’Connell was lingering just outside the restroom while I applied some dark eye makeup. “You’re seriously busting my balls because I referred to the Camel as a serial killer?” he questioned, sounding annoyed. I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see from the hallway. “Fine, the Camel’s a ritualistic contract killer or a comfort serial killer if you prefer. He likes to stick to a similar M.O. when he performs his hits. Honestly, he fits the bill. More than two murders have occurred as separate events and were committed for a reason, albeit financial gain.” He stepped into the ladies room. “That doesn’t mean I have a problem with the state bringing him up on serial murder charges in addition to contract killing, conspiracy, and murder for hire.”

  “You left out assault, assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder, conspiracy to commit, probably some type of drug charges since he drugs the victims, kidnapping, and fucking with the wrong people.” I checked my reflection in the mirror, ensuring I looked like Alexandra Riley and spun on my heel. “Are you doing the honors?”

  He nodded and considered his handcuffs. “How are you these days when it comes to restraints?”

  “Wait until we’re downstairs and closer to holding before you slap on the cuffs, and maybe don’t tighten them too much either.” Absently, I rubbed the barely visible scars. “Honestly, the more work there is, the better off I am. It sucks though. I’ve been perfectly nightmare free for quite some time. Then I see Ryan, and it’s like Paris happened two weeks ago. Do the skeletons ever stay buried?”

  “No. They don’t. We all have our triggers, but we find ways to avoid them or at least deal with them faster. Donough’s one of your triggers, just like any type of restraint.” He cracked a smile. “Be thankful Martin’s not into bondage.”

  “Really? That’s where you want to take this conversation?”

  “No. I’d like to take it downstairs and let you chat with a few incarcerated gentlemen.” Leaving the restroom, we went down the stairs to holding. O’Connell made quick work with the cuffs and took them off almost immediately, throwing me into an empty cell adjacent to Tommy. “Now, behave yourself while we get this sorted out.”

  “Screw you, pig,” I retorted. He cocked an eyebrow and retreated from the area.

  “Alex?” Tommy brightened almost immediately, scurrying across the cell and standing a foot away from our shared bars. “I thought you got away.”

  “Shut up,” I hissed, glancing at the officer who pretended to pay no attention. I moved through the empty cell in order to be closer to Tommy. “Why the hell am I here?” I whispered angrily. “Did you fucking squeal on me?”

  “No, babe.” He stood there with his jaw slack, dumbfounded. “I didn’t say nothing.”

  “What about Robert? Did he say something?” Working an imaginary crick out of my neck, I acted irritated.

  “I don’t think so.” He tossed a glance behind his shoulder. Gregson was as far from Tommy as humanly possible, and I didn’t spot Barlow. Maybe he was being interrogated. “We aren’t narcs.”

  “Goddamn you.” I sighed loudly and sat sideways on the bench, wrapping a hand around our joint metal bar. “I wanted a life, Tommy. This shit isn’t supposed to come back and bite me in the ass.” I looked away, staring at the light until my eyes started to water. I turned back to him. The tears ran down my cheek, and I wiped them away. “What are we involved in?”

  “Babe,” he knelt on his side of the bars and brushed his fingers gently across my knuckles, “I didn’t say nothing about you. What’d the cops say when they busted you?”

  “Not much.” I shrugged and let him pry my hand from the bar and interlock his fingers with mine. “They said I was under arrest in connection with a car theft ring. Big surprise.” My lip quivered slightly, selling the tears. “The police know too much, Tommy. How could they know about the garage and which vehicles we stole unless someone told on us? Are you sure Robert’s not a cop?”

  “No way.” He frowned and edged closer. Reaching through the bars, he brushed my hair out of my face. “It wasn’t either of us.” The wheels started turning in his skull. With any luck, he’d reach the conclusion on his own, without my prodding. Scratching his neck, he looked to the side, remembering something.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing. It’s nothing.” He tried to brush off whatever he was considering.

  “Tell me. Please.”

  “Robert always has buyers lined up. Normally, more than one, but all these jobs we’ve been pulling were for one guy.” He turned to the cop who was typing something into the computer with his back to us. “Reggie.” I nodded. “I barely know the guy, but he’s some international car broker or some shit like that. Everything we’ve been taking was either because one of his clients has been looking for a specific replacement part or because he can’t locate a car that’s for sale that fits the bill.” I scrunched my brows together, confused. “Y’know, like that Mustang you boosted. Reggie had it on his master list.”

  “Shh,” I hissed urgently. He immediately shut his mouth and looked at the cop. After making sure the coast was clear, I continued, “So where did Reggie get his list? Do you think one of the buyers is a rat or a cop?”

  “I got no idea. I’ve never seen the list. Reggie guarded it, but he’d pull it out from time to time to mark stuff off. When he first approached Robert, he already had the list of cars lined up that he was going to need. We grabbed some of them before you and I hooked up,” he snorted, “well, almost hooked up. Do you think they allow conjugals between prisoners?”

  “Dammit,” I growled, “this isn’t funny. What about the rest of the cars? The 911s didn’t seem planned.”

  “They weren’t. Before we completed his wish fulfillment, he added another six cars to the list.” Something dawned on him, and he dropped my hand, considering the ramifications of his thought. “I bet he found another buyer.”

  “How? Didn’t you say he was a European broker?”

  “I don’t fucking know.” His helpfulness was coming to an end. “All I know is that I didn’t implicate you in nothing. Nothing. And I don’t think Robert did either.” He was getting agitated. “I don’t even know why I didn’t. You broke my fucking heart, Alex. You said we were done, and my last chance to change your mind ends with me behind these bars.”

  “Maybe when we get out of here, we’ll see what happens.” That wasn’t a possibility, but I didn’t know how else to get more information out of him.

  “Yeah, right. I got pinched with a hot car.
How come they didn’t grab you the same night?”

  “When I heard the sirens, I bolted. The cops busted Robert’s garage two minutes later, and I hid in an alleyway. After the coast was clear, I took a cab home and went to work the next day like nothing happened.” I trembled, reliving the horribleness of this fictitious event. “They always say you have to act natural, so I did. That’s why I was surprised when they dragged me from work in cuffs. Are you sure you didn’t give me up?”

  “I’d never give you up.”

  There was no other useful information to gather from Tommy Claxton. The only helpful tidbit was Barlow’s second buyer, and for all any of us knew, it might not even be accurate. Twenty minutes later, O’Connell pulled Alexandra Riley out of holding for a follow-up, and he said they planned to apply more pressure to Gregson. There was a chance he knew more than Tommy, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

  Eleven

  I was sitting at O’Connell’s desk, listening to Mark Jablonsky list all of the reasons why the questions I was asking were none of my business. When he stopped for air, I considered hanging up the phone. Unfortunately, there was the old adage about honey and flies, and hanging up was grounded in the vinegar symbolism.

  “Mark, this isn’t about me. This has nothing to do with your misguided attempt to protect me from the cold, cruel world. In case you’ve forgotten, there was a time you valued my input on these types of matters.”

  “There was also a time when you held federal agent credentials and reported to me.”

  “So let’s play pretend,” I snarled. “What have you gotten from Barlow? Have you ruled him out as the contract killer known by the affectionate dromedary euphemism?” While I was talking to Tommy, the OIO requested a prisoner transfer and interrogated Barlow.