"How about you, handsome?"
"Just a short stack," he said.
"Something to drink?"
"Coffee, and orange juice."
"Are you a friend of Barry's?"
"He's on the job, Dotty."
"Don't that make you friends? I'll get your orders, guys."
As Dotty walked away, Keough told Gardner about the child that had been found in a Dumpster.
"Where was the Dumpster?" Gardner asked.
"In an apartment complex."
"Mine, too," Gardner said.
"Think we've got a serial here?" Keough asked. The word serial or the phrase serial killer were bad words in the New York City RD. He didn't know if that would be the case here in Missouri.
"A serial what? Baby snatcher?" Gardner asked. "And what does he do with them before he puts them in the Dumpster?"
"Maybe nothing," Keough said.
"Then what-"
"Maybe he does something to the mothers."
"The mothers?"
"He's got to be snatching the babies from somebody," Keough said.
"The mothers," Gardner said again, as if mulling the suggestion over.
"Anyone claim the baby?" Keough asked.
"Not yet."
"Anyone report a young mother missing?"
Gardner rubbed his jaw.
"I didn't check."
They were silent for a moment.
"I feel like a horse's ass," Gardner said then. "We looked for the baby's mother and family, but only to claim it."
"Maybe you better check hospitals and morgues for young women in their twenties and thirties."
"Shit," Gardner said.
"What?"
"Women are havin' kids in their forties now, too."
"You're right," Keough said. "I'm going to do the same thing, mothers in their twenties, thirties, or forties."
"I'll do it," Gardner said.
"Let's also have someone canvass those apartment complexes. Maybe someone saw something, like a stranger poking around a Dumpster."
"Okay."
"Can we keep in contact on this, Gardner?" Keough asked.
"Yeah, sure," Gardner said, "I guess maybe I need a keeper."
"Maybe just some help," Keough said.
Dotty came with their food and Gardner asked Keough where he was from. He explained that he had come here from New York, and the New York Police Department, but didn't go into the circumstances. To his credit, Gardner didn't ask. He did ask how Keough was liking St. Louis, and Keough said he was liking it fine.
Gardner told Keough his life story, but Keough doubted he'd remember most of it an hour later. He had the habit of tuning people out when they started talking about themselves. They never seemed to notice, anyway. He'd hear about every other word, and when something seemed to need comment, or when the person stopped, he'd pay attention again.
All he really retained was that Gardner had been a cop for thirty years in St. Louis, and a detective for the past five years.
They each got separate checks and paid them at the register. Gardner waved good-bye to Dotty who, Keough had surmised, knew nearly everyone who was eating in the place at that time of day.
"Have a good day, guys!" she called out. "Come on back."
Outside Gardner shook hands with Keough.
"I'll get right on it at my end, Keough," he said. "Thanks for, uh, bringin' it to my attention."
"Hopefully, between the two of us we can solve this thing," Keough said.
"You really think it's the same perp, huh?" Gardner asked.
"I guess we'll know," Keough said, "if another one turns up."
24
It was the first week of September when the first adult body turned up.
Keough had spoken with Gardner once since then. They had both finished their canvasses of the apartment complexes, and no one had seen anything-that is, no one had admitted to seeing anything.
Keough came in that morning, hoping to be able to call Valerie Speck to ask her out. He'd been meaning to since their last conversation, but he'd been so busy with the baby case, and others. He was even still thinking about the Dr. Denton's case, as he had come to think about it. He wished he'd had time just to tail Miss Bonny from First Choice Realty. He still thought she had something going with Brady's father.
He was alone in the squad room, going over some case tiles, closing them out and filing them, when the phone rang.
"Detective Keough."
"Detective, this is Sergeant Piazza, in Communications."
"What can I do for you, Sergeant?"
"We've got a call from a detective over in Forest Park."
"Is that ours?"
"No, but there's a detective there from the Major Case Squad who asked for you."
"Why me?"
"They've got the body of a young woman," the sergeant said.
Marian Sanders, he thought. Brady's mother. He opened his desk drawer and took out her photo.
"Give me directions," he said, grabbing a pen.
***
Keough turned into the park off Skinker and followed the Sergeant's directions to a stone building where there was a gathering-a gaggle?-of St. Louis County and unmarked police cars, and plenty of yellow police line tape. There was also a crowd of gawkers trying to get a look at what was going on.
Keough parked his car away from the action, slid his shield case into his breast pocket so his tin was showing, and then worked his way through the crowd until he came face to face with a uniformed officer.
"Where's Detective Steinbach?"
"Inside."
"Is that where the stiff is?"
"Yeah."
"Thanks."
Keough slipped under the tape and walked to the entrance of the park restrooms, past another cop. He started into the ladies' room.
"Not there," the cops said.
"What?"
"They're in the men's room."
Keough frowned a moment, then changed direction and went into the men's room. There were four men gathered around something that he couldn't see, their backs to him.
"Detective Steinbach?"
A man turned. He was in his thirties, slender, about five ten, well dressed, and clean shaven.
"That's me."
"Detective Keough, Richmond Heights."
"Oh, yeah," Steinbach said. He extended his hand and shook Keough's.
"You might want to take a look and see if this is your girl."
"She's not my girl, anymore," Keough said. "She's yours."
"Not mine," Steinbach said.
"Well, somebody from your squad."
"Would you take a look for me?"
"Sure," Keough said, grudgingly.
Steinbach and the other men moved aside to let him take a look.
The urinals were the old kind, the ones that went all the way to the floor. The woman was sitting in one with her back against the porcelain and her legs straight out in front of her. She was naked and, in life, obviously had a fine, healthy body.
"That her?"
"Give me a minute," Keough said. He took out the photo he'd taken from the Sanders living room, crouched down, and held it next to the dead girl. The lifeless face bore no resemblance to the smiling face in the photo.
"It's not her."
"Mind if I take a look?" Steinbach asked.
"Go ahead."
He passed the photo to Steinbach, who followed the same procedure. He looked over his shoulder at one of the other men, possibly his partner, and that man shook his head, as well.
"Too bad," he said, standing up and handing the photo back to Keough. "It looks like her, but it's not."
"Same type," Keough said, rubbing his jaw.
"Wonder why she was dumped in here instead of the ladies' room?" another man asked aloud.
"That's easy," Keough said. "She was dumped here by a man."
"Why do you say that?" the man asked.
"Because a man would dump her in the me
n's room. A woman would have used the ladies' room."
Steinbach looked at the other man and said, "That makes sense, no?"
"Maybe," the man said, grudgingly.
"You locate the husband of yours, yet?" Steinbach asked Keough.
"No. What about this one?"
"Nothing, yet," Steinbach said. "We've got to get her to the morgue and get her printed, check the missing persons reports. Lots of blondes turning' up missin', huh?"
"Looks that way," Keough agreed. "Will you keep me informed?"
"Think yours and this one are related?"
Keough shrugged. "Probably not. Mine involves a missing husband, as well, blood all over the house, and an abandoned kid. Still, I'd like to know what you find."
"That was last month, wasn't it?"
"July."
"I'll put you on my list for copies of my reports, how's that?"
"Very cooperative of you, thanks."
"Sure, why not? Sorry to drag you over here."
"No bother," Keough said. "Thanks for thinking of me."
"Yeah… well, we got to get back to work."
Steinbach had not introduced the other men, and Keough didn't ask. As he was leaving, the medical examiner's truck arrived.
He worked his way back through the crowd and walked to his car. He got in but didn't start it up right away. He was suddenly back in Gingham's with Detective Gardner, talking about missing mothers and babies in Dumpsters.
He got out of the car and walked back to the men's room.
25
The room was crowded, due in part to its smallness. Keough was there, along with his assistant chief, Major O'Connell. Detective Steinbach was there representing the Major Case Squad, along with his superior, Captain McGwire. Also in attendance was Det. Ken Jackson, Major Case's lead homicide investigator. Steinbach had responded to the scene of the dead woman two days earlier, but the case was being handled by Jackson. Keough had also found out that the man was in charge of the Sanders Dr. Denton's case.
"Jackson's not going to be happy about you being there," Steinbach had told Keough the day before, on the phone.
"Why's that?"
"Because he's got an ego so big you'd think he was from New York-oh, sorry."
"No problem."
Sure enough, when Keough was introduced, Jackson stared daggers at him.
"Let's get this meeting underway," said Captain McGwire, who was in charge. "Detective Keough, it looks like you were right… sort of."
"What do you mean, 'sort of,' sir?"
"Well, we did as you suggested. We pulled all missing persons reports on blond women in their twenties and thirties, and their babies. There were four cases, citywide. One turned out to be the case of a woman who simply took her baby and left her husband."
"And the other three?"
"Legitimate missing persons. We called in the husbands and showed them the women, and the babies."
"And?"
"And we got a match."
"Where's the 'sort of' come in?" Keough asked.
"The woman was matched with the second baby found," Steinbach said, "not the first."
"So the first woman, the first baby's mother, is still out there, somewhere," Keough said.
"Looks that way," McGwire said.
"Is the baby back with the father?" Keough asked.
"No," McGwire said.
"Why not?"
"The father's a suspect," Jackson said. "We're not returning the baby to him just yet."
"Is there some sort of evidence against him?" Keough asked.
"Not much," Jackson said, "but he is the husband."
Meaning that he was a suspect simply because he was the husband. For a leading homicide investigator, Jackson seemed to like the shortest line between two points.
"I don't think he did it," Keough said.
"Why not?" Jackson asked.
"Because we found two babies," Keough said, "and there are three of them missing, along with the mothers. Do you think he had something to do with all three?"
"I don't know," Jackson said. "I'm still conducting my investigation."
"If you ask me-"
"I'm not," Jackson said.
"Excuse me?"
"I don't need some hotshot ex-New York detective coming here and telling me how to do my job."
"That's out of line," Major O'Connell said.
"Is it… sir?" Jackson asked, when he realized who had spoken.
"He's entitled to his opinion, Chief," Keough said.
"Captain," O'Connell said, "I think you should listen to my man's theory."
"I don't see why not," McGwire said. "Go ahead, Detective Keough."
"First I have some questions."
"All right."
"What's the dead woman's name?"
McGwire looked at Jackson, who answered grudgingly.
"Janet Downing."
"Where was she last seen?"
McGwire gave Jackson a hard look.
"The West County Mall," Jackson said. "She and her husband split up. She took the baby. They were supposed to meet an hour later, but she didn't show up."
"So she was most likely grabbed at the mall."
"Yes," Jackson said.
"I'm guessing in the parking lot."
Nobody said anything. Keough suddenly remembered the woman who had reported to Haywood that a man had punched her in the parking lot. She had black hair, but she said she'd been with her girlfriend, a blonde.
"Detective Keough?"
Keough realized this was the second time Captain McGwire had called his name.
"Yes, sir, I'm sorry," he said. "Sir, I think we have a serial here."
"A serial what?" McGwire asked.
"Well, it looks like we have a killer," Keough said. "He grabs young mother with babies, dumps the babies, and kills the mothers."
"Why risk grabbing a mother and child?" McGwire asked.
"It would be easy to control a mother if you threatened her child."
"There's no evidence that this is anything but a one-shot job," Jackson said to McGwire.
"I agree, sir," Keough said. "There's no evidence to support my theory, but two babies have been found, and one mother. Why wait for the other mothers to turn up dead?"
"What do you suggest we do, Detective?" McGwire said.
"Well… in New York we'd form a task force to work on the serial killer case."
"And you'd like to head that task force?" Jackson asked, nastily.
"That wouldn't be my job," Keough said. "I don't have the rank-"
"You know," Jackson said, interrupting him, "I read your book."
That stopped Keough.
"My book?"
"What book?" McGwire asked.
"The book on the Kopykat killer," Jackson answered.
"I didn't write that book," Keough said, realizing what Jackson was referring to. "It was written by Mike O'Donnell-"
"I know O'Donnell's work," McGwire said. "He has a new book out?"
"Yes, sir," Jackson said, "he does, and it's all about Detective Keough here. He was a big hero in New York, caught two serial killers-but then he had to leave town."
"That was my choice," Keough said. "Besides, that has nothing to do with this."
"I agree," Major O'Connell said, although he had been looking on during this conversation quite confusedly. "What Detective Keough did or did not do in New York has no bearing on what we're discussing here."
"I agree, also," McGwire said, "but your man himself has said that there's no evidence to support his theory. I'm afraid we'll have to wait until there is some such evidence. Meanwhile, my man will continue to work on this case as an isolated incident."
And with that the meeting ended. Keough didn't argue, but he had several thoughts on the subject that he was going to pursue on his own. After all, the case of the first baby was originally his.
Keough walked out of the room with Detective Steinbach, but Jackson caught up.
"Keou
gh."
Keough turned and looked at the man who, in a short span of time, he had come to dislike.
"Don't think I don't know what this is about," Jackson said.
"I'll bite," Keough said. "What's it about?"
"The Sanders case."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're pissed because they took that case away from you and gave it to me," Jackson said.
Well, Keough couldn't very well argue that point. He was pissed that the case had been taken away from him, but that had nothing to do with anything that had been said in that room.
"Have you had any progress on that case?" Keough asked.
Jackson snorted and said, "More than you," and walked off.
Keough turned to Steinbach, who said, "Don't believe him. He hasn't found out a thing."
"What's his problem?"
"A big ego," Steinbach said, "and a dislike of detectives from New York."
"Since when?"
"Since meeting you, L think."
They proceeded down the hall together.
"I'd like to see the reports on the three missing mothers and children," Keough said. "Is that possible?"
"Are you gonna pursue this?" Steinbach asked.
"I'd just like to see the dates on the reports."
Steinbach chewed the inside of his cheek and then said, "I'll see what I can do. Do you think this has something to do with the missing couple?"
That startled Keough.
"I hadn't thought about that."
"Well, was the mother blond?"
"Yes, but the child walked into the police station-and the father's missing, as well." Not to mention all the blood that was left in the house. "I don't think it's connected."
"Unless the father is our man," Steinbach said. "Give it some thought."
***
Outside Keough and O'Connell walked to their cars together.
"Thanks for the support in there."
"I always back my men, Keough," the major said. "Do you really think we've got a serial killer in St. Louis?"
"He stalks, then he kills, Chief. And he dumps the babies."
"Well, thank God the babies are alive."
"Two of them are," Keough said, "one probably isn't."
"What?"
"There are two more women out there, Chief. Probably one is dead and one is still being held."
In the Shadow of the Arch Page 9
