Still Waters [A Kyra Moray Mystery]

by Deanna Lee

  "Yes, actually.” Jeffrey motioned to Alex. “Your fellow here pointed out an interesting tidbit."

  "Do tell."

  "Women often shave their legs against the grain, pulling the razor up their legs even though the hair grows at a downward angle. Men shave in the direction that hair grows; it reduces razor burn on their face."

  "Okay.” Kyra looked at Donna. “Her legs and pubic area weren't shaved against the grain."

  "No, they weren't. It's also likely that he used a straight razor to do the shaving. No laser kit for this boy."

  It wasn't the most invasive thing she'd ever seen done to a victim, but it was far more intimate that she would have expected from the killer. “No nicks or cuts."

  "No, he was careful not to mar the skin."

  Kyra's gaze went to the Y-incision that was neatly sealed with medical adhesive, and then to the wound where the killer had taken the tattoo. “He's not done."

  "No, I wouldn't say so. His work is focused and thoroughly planned. Nothing passionate or impulsive about the two killings. That makes him far more dangerous, in my estimation."

  "I'm going to put in a request for a profiler."

  "You know the mayor has already told the commander that isn't an option. He doesn't like anything in the city that interferes with his control. We get a federal agent in the mix, and all of a sudden he's answering to some state representative."

  "I have two dead women in four days. Once the press starts connecting the dots on this case, it's going to be a fucking circus around here.” She glanced back at the table where Ana was working, then looked at Jeffrey. “Send her home once she's finished with the logged evidence."

  "Commander Baker told me to tell you to take your ass home if you showed up here.” Jeffrey pulled his face shield back into place. “So, take your ass home."

  * * * *

  "I'll call you tomorrow when I get a chance."

  Alex nodded and cleared his throat. “How can you possibly leave your work at work?"

  "It takes effort, but I have to be a whole person if I'm going to be any good to the people I've promised to serve and protect.” Kyra loosened her fingers on the steering wheel and looked at him as he made move to leave the vehicle. “Try to get some sleep. God knows you won't get much once this story breaks."

  She watched him cross in front of her and walk down the street to his parked vehicle. A part of her was a little peeved that he'd chosen to go home instead of staying with her, but the cop in her understood that he needed to distance himself from the violence and death he'd been exposed to. No one was immune to it, not even a man who'd fought in one of the bloodiest wars in the history of their country.

  The North American Union had invaded North Korea the same day that she'd graduated from the police academy. The conflict had only been over for two years, so it was safe for her to assume that Alex had spent nearly nine years in a combat zone. Curious, she pulled her p-pc out of the dash docking station and put in a request for his military records. Feeling a tad bit guilty, she put her vehicle in drive and whipped around so she could pull into the enclosed garage for her apartment building.

  The record was up by the time she'd parked. Settling into the driver's seat, Kyra turned off the vehicle and concentrated on the screen of her p-pc. Alexander Matthew Waters had spent nearly ten years in the NAU Special Forces, retiring less than two years ago. His career was littered with commendations for valor, bravery, and self-sacrifice. During service, he'd received two Purple Hearts, one Distinctive Service medal, and had retired with the rank of Master Chief. He'd fought major battles in North Korea and in Cuba during the war that had seen the end of the last two communist countries on earth.

  She'd expected to learn that he had served in the Armada or Union Army. The Special Forces branch of the military was unique. They were mentally conditioned from the onset of their training to kill and to kill well. The men and women in the Special Forces units learned nothing of diplomacy, and very few made it out alive.

  Yes, Kyra thought, he'd seen a great deal more death than she ever would.

  * * * *

  The stupid bitch thought she could deny me. After all that I gave her? The honor of being chosen for my mission should have been obvious to her. I punished her as was needed, but I was careful to bruise her only slightly. I know you are disappointed that she was marred, but she had to understand the pain that she caused me.

  She came to the scene again. She was beautiful tonight. Dressed in a dark blue dress. I think she's beginning to understand my mission. I believe she will help us in the end. She'll help us be together. I've almost decided that she is the ONE. I know you'll be pleased with her.

  Chapter Eight

  "Janie Monroe had no husband, no live-in lover, and from what we can tell, no man since she stopped seeing Alex Waters. She got a tattoo of a dolphin on her upper thigh during Mardi Gras this year. Her son is four years old.” Kyra placed Janie's picture up on the board with Donna's and looked at the commander “Then, of course, there is his letter."

  He cleared his throat. “We can be sure he'll be contacting the press himself."

  "Yes.” Kyra picked up the letter, still in an evidence bag. It had already been printed and tested. The efforts had been futile; the killer had left nothing behind. “The note indicates that he's less than pleased with the publicity he's not received."

  Phil held his hand out for the note and turned it to read when Kyra handed it to him.

  I can see that you appreciated my gift.

  I find Clara Tibideaux to be a gifted woman.

  It is wise to seek her counsel.

  I am most disappointed, of course, that you haven't announced me to the world.

  I am worthy of the attention.

  I demand the world know that I have arrived.

  And they will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory.

  Phil put the note down and cleared his throat as if the words he'd read aloud left a bad taste in his mouth. “He quotes the Bible and practices Voodoo."

  "Clara is sure that he isn't a practitioner, but instead something of a Voodooisant. He's attended rituals, educated himself on the religion's ceremonies and artifacts, and might see a practitioner regularly for advice and counsel.” Kyra turned to Phil. “The Bible?"

  Phil snorted. “Heathen. The last part is from the Bible, the book of Matthew. A Voodooisant is a follower?"

  "Yes, a follower.” Kyra expelled a breath as she continued. “As with any religion, a great deal of faith is needed to be a true practitioner of the Voodoo art. He quotes the Bible in much the same way that he uses the utensils of Voodoo. The effort is wrapped up in his need to shock, enrage, and instill fear. He'll use anything he can to achieve his goal."

  "So the skin..."

  "Is a trophy,” Kyra finished. “A shocking, disgusting trophy that will creep people out and make them fear him."

  Phil dropped his gaze to the table. “I'm not up for this."

  "I know.” Commander Baker sighed and looked at Kyra, who had walked to the conference room door and shut it carefully. “We both know."

  "I've had enough crap to get over ... without bailing in a homicide investigation.” Phil rubbed his face. “I'm no good to her, Ethan."

  "Kyra was assigned a new partner this morning.” Ethan stood. “And you should be receiving your transfer to Robbery in the next hour. The transfer was placed at your request, Phil, and it was done with no cut in pay or rank."

  Phil visibly relaxed and released a breath.

  "Wow, Phil, no need to look so relieved."

  He blushed. “Smart ass."

  "You'll keep a desk in Major Crimes until the end of this case. Kyra will need someone on this end who is familiar with the killer and killings for information gathering and interviews."

  "Sounds good."

  * * * *

  Constable Ana Salanti was standing, stiff and apparently loaded for bear, in the middle of Kyra's offi
ce when she entered.

  Kyra raised an eyebrow and shut the door. “Constable Salanti, I believe you were requested to report to my office at noon; it's not even ten o'clock yet."

  Ana's gaze followed Kyra as she sat down at her desk. “If I'm going to be reprimanded, I'd rather get it done first thing so I can enjoy the rest of my day."

  "You worked all night. I'd thought to give you a few hours of sleep.” Kyra motioned to a chair. “Sit."

  Ana sat down stiffly, her tidy uniform hat primly in her lap. “You worked all night, too."

  "The scene at Still Waters was a shocking one. You did well and managed the crowd with a great deal of skill. As the first cop on the scene, you had a lot of room for mistakes, but so far, I've found none. You secured the scene, the witnesses, and did so with a great deal of professionalism. So, Ana, tell me where your mistake was."

  "I didn't make one."

  "Surely you think that you did; otherwise you wouldn't be here in my office with a stick half as wide as the state up your ass. Or perhaps you think that I like to pull cops in off the street and tear them a new one when I feel like it."

  "No, ma'am."

  "You'll do, Constable Salanti. You'll do very nicely.” Kyra stood and stretched. “I'm going to visit the ME again. Meet me out at my transport in an hour."

  Ana stood abruptly. “Ma'am, I did not become a police officer to chauffer anyone, inspector or not, around town."

  Kyra laughed. “That's good, because I always drive.” She pointed toward the desk that Phil had emptied earlier in the morning. “That is your desk, Ana. The folder on your desk contains your new orders. Read them, understand them, put a picture of your dog or your man on your desk, pull the stick out of your ass, and meet me in the parking lot in an hour. I'll pick you up after I finish with the ME."

  * * * *

  Dr. Jeffrey Parker was up to his elbows in gore when Kyra found him. Disgusted and oddly fascinated, she watched him for several minutes as he moved several organs out of Janie Monroe's body and into stainless steel containers. “The verdict?"

  "Drowning, just like the first victim. In fact, the water in both victims is very similar. Certainly pulled out of the same lake or stream. The cutting was done with the same sort of instrument; I'm leaning toward a laser scalpel at this point. He'd want the right tool for the job. The patch of skin missing is three inches wide and six inches long. You'll want to look at places in the area that sell chemicals used to cure skin. Taxidermy or leatherworking supply stores. He's not keeping the skin to let it shrivel up."

  Kyra nodded and sat down on a stool to his left. “Any sign of sexual assault?"

  "Hmmm...” Jeffrey looked at her and shook his head. “There is indication that he struck her genital region several times with something, possibly his fist."

  "Further punishment for being a woman?"

  "You're the cop, not me.” Jeffrey shrugged. “I'll get you a report as soon as I'm done."

  "Do you have the coffin?"

  "Yeah.” He motioned at a box labeled with Janie Monroe's case number. “You were right, certainly alabaster. No prints, but very nice tool markings. I'd say he carved it himself."

  Kyra snagged the bag with the coffin in it and signed it out on the evidence sheet in the box. “I guess I'll go add to Clara's fee."

  "You know, you should be really careful, Kyra."

  "I always am."

  "He's got a plan, he's worked out his victims, and while he couldn't plan for you to be assigned the first murder ... he's very interested in you now. I wouldn't underestimate him if I were you."

  "I thought I was the cop."

  "You are.” Jeffrey motioned her off. “Go talk to the Voodoo witch."

  * * * *

  Constable Ana Salanti was sitting on a bench in front of the station when Kyra pulled up to the curb. Ana jumped up and grabbed the two bags from the bench beside her. One was a small leather one, obviously a field kit. The other was a plastic bag from a sub sandwich shop.

  Kyra eyed the food as Ana stowed her field kit under her seat. “Constable."

  Ana blushed. “I got a foot-long; didn't know what you liked on yours so I got it pretty basic."

  "Are you going to be able to handle this assignment?” Kyra wished silently she'd cornered Ana before she'd rearranged the woman's career to suit herself.

  "Can I be frank?"

  "Yes."

  Ana was silent as she unwrapped the sandwich and handed Kyra half. “I'd have to be pretty damn stupid to say ‘no’ to that question. You are the most decorated cop in the city. While there are those who think you're a miserable human being, I've come to realize that you're just dedicated to your job. I'm fortunate to be partnered with you."

  Kyra bit into the sandwich thoughtfully and nodded. “I'm not gay."

  "Oh, I know. When I get to know you better, I'm going to have questions about your relationship with Alex Waters."

  Kyra laughed. “When I know you better, I might answer them.” She put the vehicle into drive as she took another bite of her sandwich. “Okay, here are the rules. I'm Kyra when we're alone. To protect my hard-earned ‘badge-eating monster’ reputation, I'm Inspector Moray in front of other cops and civilians. You are my partner, not my student or my keeper. Your input is expected, needed, and demanded. I don't like timid; it looks weak. When you're with me, you are reigning princess bitch of the universe, and you will act the part."

  Ana nodded her mouth full and eyes wide. She swallowed hard. “Do I get a crown? Because I really dig head jewelry."

  Kyra laughed. “Yes, there is something amazing about having a tiara sitting on top of one's head."

  "Is it true you were Miss New Orleans?"

  "Cops love to spread rumors,” she muttered and then sighed. “As a matter of fact, I was Miss New Orleans.” She glared pointedly at Ana. “Don't go looking up old pictures of me on the Internet, either."

  "No, ma'am."

  "Also, the next time someone calls me a ‘miserable human being’ in front of you, it is your job to kick the shit out of them."

  "Can I get that in writing?"

  "Remind me when we get back to the station."

  "Where are we going?"

  "We're off to see the witch."

  * * * *

  "Who's the kid?” Clara glared at Ana.

  "It should be obvious.” Kyra stomped up the porch steps. “Constable Ana Salanti, meet Clara Tibideaux, the first Voodoo queen in New Orleans to surpass Marie Laveau in infamy."

  Ana nodded. “Ma'am."

  "So now I got me two bitch cops.” Clara snorted and walked back into her house.

  "Does she bite?” Ana kept her voice low as she followed Kyra.

  "Yeah, but I'm pretty sure she's had all of her shots."

  Kyra sat down at across from Clara and looked over her shoulder as Ana put her back to a wall and stared pointedly at Clara. “We had another body last night."

  "Yeah, saw it on the news."

  "He left an alabaster coffin in the victim's mouth.” She put the coffin on the table between them.

  Clara picked up the evidence bag and opened it. “As you already know, Inspector, the coffin is much like the vial of chicken bones, as far as symbolism goes. They are both used to represent and draw forth evil spirits."

  "He hates women."

  "Oh, yes.” Clara nodded. “The workmanship is good and careful. He's a precise man, and his goal is clear. He took skin again?"

  "Yes, we've been able to determine that the flesh from both victims was tattooed. A cat and a dolphin."

  "Dolphins are regarded by many cultures as protectors and guardians. Cats are often depicted as instruments of the devil, a witch's familiar. Both animals are perceived to be intelligent and playful."

  "Do you think the tattoos matter so much?"

  "To him they most certainly do."

  Clara reached into the bag and took the coffin out, finally. Her mouth grew firm, and she shook her head. “Such evil."

/>   Kyra was silent as the older woman ran her fingers along the edges of the coffin. It had been smoothed down carefully after it was carved. The scar on her neck got progressively lighter as she sat there. Recognizing fear, she reached out and took the coffin from Clara.

  "Do not bring this monster into my house again.” Clara stood abruptly. “I won't have it."

  "I have a killer in my city killing at will.” Kyra stood as well. “You realize a member of your community is responsible for this. No matter his place in Voodoo, he is here. His actions do nothing to facilitate the proper image of your faith. His killing is blasphemous."

  "Yes.” Clara nodded.

  "What can you tell me about him?” She hated asking the question, and hated the old woman for making her ask.

  Clara grinned briefly, as if she could hear Kyra's thoughts. “He has a plan, a mission that he regards as the most important thing in his life. With any individual who has a mission, he is dangerous and will become more so if he feels threatened. He's young, but the vision he is following is mature and well planned. The killer is also developing a taste for violence."

  * * * *

  Ana was silent until they got in the vehicle. “How did she get that scar on her neck?"

  "She was hanged.” Kyra started the vehicle and looked back to the house. “In her late twenties, a prominent family in the city came to her because their oldest son was dying. Though she did try, she was unable to cure him. He later died of cancer. The couple blamed Clara and tried to get the parish to file charges against her. When the parish refused, the couple hired two men to kill her."

  "Oh, God."

  "Sixty-five years ago, things were very different around here. Homeland Security was making life hell for the average citizen. The government was too big. Healthcare reform made disease management possible only for the extremely wealthy, and healthcare on the level their son needed was just beyond their grasp. It would have been a blow to their social standing if the community had found out they couldn't afford to have their child cared for by a doctor."