A Thorn Among the Lilies

by Michael Hiebert

  Luanne gave her a look that sort of questioned why she was being asked this, but she did it anyway.

  Sure enough, the imprint her shoe made matched one of the fresh ones Leah had just taken a cast of. “I thought you told Officer Jackson you only came to the edge of the grass?” Leah asked.

  “I did.”

  “Then why does your shoe print exactly match these ones down here?” Leah asked. “You came down here, Luanne.”

  Luanne’s face reddened. “Okay, maybe I took a closer look. But I didn’t touch anything.”

  Leah eyed her suspiciously but decided to take the woman at her word. She led her outside the police tape and asked her to stay back while they finished examining the scene.

  Having taken Luanne’s statement and gotten all the DNA data he could, Chris said to Leah, “We gotta turn the body over so I can photograph her from the front.”

  Officer Chris Jackson was a tall black man who had at least three inches on Leah. He started with the Alvin Police Department a dozen or so years back, and when he did there had been an uproar on account of his skin color. Since then, he had proved himself and become somewhat of an icon in the community.

  Leah helped turn the body over and almost instantaneously she and Chris gasped. What they saw made Leah’s stomach clench. The woman’s eyes had been stitched shut with thick black thread. Chris’s eyes met Leah’s, but neither said a word. Most of the view of the body was blocked from onlookers by the wharf. Leah was thankful for this. Keeping things contained made her job a lot easier.

  Like a maniac tailor . . .

  “Look at the buttons on her shirt,” Leah said.

  The man’s white shirt was buttoned up wrong. The bottom button was in the second to last hole, like it had been buttoned up in a hurry or by someone who simply didn’t care. The water made the shirt almost translucent and Chris noticed something else.

  “There’s something written on her chest.”

  “I’ll cut the buttons off so we don’t destroy any possible prints.”

  “Before you do, let me take some pictures.”

  Just like before, Chris took pictures of the body from all different angles.

  “Okay, go ahead,” he said.

  Leah took the scissors from the CSI kit. Carefully, not letting her fingers touch the buttons, she cut around them, removing them from the shirt. They were dropped into an evidence bag and tagged. Chris opened the shirt enough to read the words running across the dead girl’s bosom in waterproof Magic Marker. It said:

  Justice Is Blind

  in the Ey es of the Lord

  “What the hell does that mean?” Chris asked.

  “What the hell does any of this mean?” Leah asked back.

  Writing on the body . . .

  That part of it was exactly as the psychic said it would be. Astonishment took her breath away for a moment. It was impossible and yet . . .

  She was brought back to the present by the clicking sound of Chris taking more pictures.

  Leah noticed a bulge in the single front pocket of the victim’s shirt. Using the tongs from the CSI kit, she extracted a cross, roughly hewn from what appeared to be hickory. “Looks like she came bearin’ gifts,” Chris said.

  Dropping the cross into an evidence bag and tagging it, Leah and Chris pulled the body completely out of the water. Leah had been right; if the body had had shoes on when it entered the lake, they were long gone now.

  Leah looked at all the evidence they had collected. Ultimately, it would be sent down to the forensics lab in Mobile, where the experts would look at it and send back their reports. Alvin simply wasn’t big enough to have its own crime lab. At least not yet. The population was growing, though. In the last year, it had seen its population jump near on a thousand people to its current number of approximately 5,300. Good thing there wasn’t anything for miles around it. It had room to grow.

  Leah looked at the body from the other side and immediately saw the cause of death. “Well, she didn’t die from drownin’,” she said.

  Chris came around. “Entry wound that small couldn’t be more than a .22, especially considerin’ there’s no exit wound.”

  “Which means we’re gonna have to wait on the medical examiner before we get that round back. See any brass anywhere?”

  Chris examined the immediate area. “No brass. No blood splatter. I don’t think she was killed here. ’Course he could’ve been smart enough to bring her into the lake a ways before making the shot and take the bullet casing with him.”

  “Let’s assume that’s just too much work for our guy. Then you reckon she was killed somewhere else and dumped here, or just killed somewhere else on the lake and she floated here?”

  Chris shrugged. “No way of knowin’.” He was trying for fingerprints on the buttons and the cross.

  “Get anythin’?” Leah asked.

  “Nothin’. He must’ve worn gloves.”

  “Try the eyelids.” Taking prints off of skin was tough, but not impossible. And even if you got them, trying to match them was tough, but again, not impossible. “Really?” Chris asked.

  “It’s worth a try.”

  Chris tried each eye and looked up at Leah. “Nothin’.”

  “It was still worth a try.” Leah noticed the number of spectators was growing at an amazing rate. “We need to get this body out of here. Wait, what’s that around her mouth?”

  Chris took a sample of it and bagged it. “It looks like glue residue, probably from duct tape. Whoever did this didn’t want anyone to hear her screamin’.” He scraped some off and put it in an evidence bag, where it joined the other bags.

  Leah went up to the edge of the road and examined the tire tracks. Four of them looked recent. She made casts of those four.

  The medical examiner from Satsuma pulled up to the edge of the lake. “Look at that,” Chris said. “The Death Mobile arrives right on time!” Leah had called Norman Crabtree, the closest medical examiner to Alvin, just after calling Chris this morning. Norman walked down to the shore and took a quick look at what he was dealing with. “Those eyes are somethin’ else,” he said.

  “You can say that again,” Chris said.

  “I ain’t seen nothin’ like it. And I been doin’ this a long time.”

  The body was toe tagged and put in the back of the Death Mobile. An expression Leah hated more and more every time Chris used it.

  The winter sun was just starting to fill the easterly sky and casting everything in an array of pinks and yellows. All Leah could think of was how much of a stark contrast that sky was compared to the eyes of the victim she had just seen loaded into the back of the Death Mobile and driven away, the sunlight winking off its back bumper and the smell of fresh winter flowers filling the air.

  CHAPTER 6

  Within four hours after Luanne Cooper found the body, word of the story had swept through the city, putting everyone into a state of high alert. That’s one thing about living in a small town, it didn’t take much to unbalance the nature of things. Leah started taking phone calls back to back from concerned citizens all wanting to know that their safety wasn’t in jeopardy.

  She didn’t blame them. She’d tried to keep the gawkers as far away from the victim as she could, but when they turned that body over, people got a look at those eyes—and those eyes would give anyone nightmares.

  The police even ran an official photograph in the Alvin Examiner (formerly called the Alvin Alerter) and on the eight o’clock news that showed the eyes. Leah figured they had to. If she was going to find this woman’s killer, she was going to have to canvass with a photo, and she only had the one. There would be no way of doing it without showing the sewn-up eyes.

  What the police didn’t release was the writing across the woman’s chest or the whittled cross Leah had found in her pocket. Police often leave things out of press releases. It’s a way to differentiate the fake weirdos wanting to take credit for something they didn’t do from the real weirdos who actually comm
itted the crime.

  The story hit the front page of the Examiner, which ran a special afternoon edition, and, of course, it was the top story in the news. Both complemented each other with the information they gave.

  Both stories (the one on the television and the one in the paper) covered the same basic information. They said a body was found washed up on Willet Lake in Willet Park and that foul play was suspected. (What gave them that idea? You’d think that part would be pretty obvious. The woman didn’t sew her own eyes closed.)

  Leah and Chris both knew the article would likely be syndicated but prayed it wouldn’t get much farther than the outskirts of Alvin. This was ridiculous. They knew the reaction to the image of the dead girl lying there with her eyes all stitched up was going to echo through the population, but neither was prepared for just how much panic it would stir up.

  Ethan Montgomery called Leah into his office.

  “Tell me somethin’,” Ethan said, after closing the door and taking his seat.

  “What’s that?”

  “What in the name of everythin’ holy made you decide to run that picture?”

  “The press wanted a photo.”

  “Then you say we don’t have one.”

  “Ethan, I’m going to have to show it around if I want to find anythin’ out ’bout the woman. We would just be delayin’ the inevitable.”

  “But you’d also be avoidin’ a landslide. It wouldn’t all come at once like this. I’ve fielded at least seventy calls today, mainly just calmin’ folk down.”

  Leah looked at the floor. “I know. Me too.”

  “From now on, do me a favor?” Chief Montgomery said. “Bounce any great ideas like this off of me before runnin’ with ’em? Don’t just confer with Chris?”

  Leah met his gaze. “I can do that.”

  “Okay. Now go put your phone back on the hook and keep calmin’ people down. We don’t need a town full of hysteria.”

  “Okay.”

  Leah exited his office, flopped into her chair, and, with a slow count to three, put the receiver back on its cradle. She jumped when the phone rang a second later.

  It was going to be a long day.

  It didn’t take long for Leah to establish a name for the victim. Curiously, it didn’t come from any of the news reports but an unrelated missing person’s report a few hours later the same day the body was discovered. It came from the victim’s sister, Mary Lynn Carpenter, who hadn’t heard from her sister Mercy Jo in a week and was worried something had happened to her. She hadn’t even seen her sister’s picture on the TV or anything. Once she started talking, Leah pretty quickly put two and two together.

  Mary Lynn told the police the woman they had found was named Mercy Jo and that she used to live in Auburn, Alabama, with her before leaving and moving to Alvin.

  “I think you need to drive down to Satsuma,” Leah said.

  Once they got a name for the victim, the police did their own background checks and, indeed, they concurred with what Mercy Jo’s sister had told them. Mercy Jo had been a longtime resident of Alvin, moving down to the small town four years ago from where she used to live in Auburn with her sister. The police released this information and went on to say that they had nobody in custody and were actively looking for anyone who might have any evidence about the crime to come forward with details.

  This is how they were able to supply the newspaper with a name to go along with the picture Ethan Montgomery said they should never have run. They soon had a picture without the eye stitches from Mary Lynn Carpenter, but it didn’t reflect how Mercy Jo looked today. It was over four years old, and her body had changed dramatically. Alcohol and drugs will do that to you. And through all this, Leah’s phone never stopped ringing.

  Is it safe for me to go to the park with my baby?

  You will find the man who did this, won’t you?

  I’m the one you’re lookin’ for. I killed her and stitched up her eyes. And I’ll do it again. (This was a case where the held-back information was vital. All Leah had to ask was, “What was in her pocket?” and the man on the other end hung up. The world was full of crackpots.)

  Leah was getting so fed up with calls, she left the receiver off the phone for an hour, just for a brief respite.

  “She usually calls me every Thursday,” Mary Lynn said once she met Leah at the medical examiner’s office in Satsuma. Mary Lynn was a slender brunette with high cheekbones and looked like she’d be more at home in high heels and a designer handbag than in the old jeans and sneakers she was wearing. “But when I didn’t hear from her, I just figured she was, you know, busy. But then, when I still hadn’t heard from her after the weekend, I started to get worried.” Mary Lynn attended a university in Auburn, studying business. When she started describing her sister, Leah’s heart sunk. Leah knew why Mary Lynn hadn’t gotten the call.

  Mary Lynn had come down to ID the body. Luckily, Norman hadn’t started the autopsy yet. But still, Leah had no idea how to prepare Mary Lynn for the shock of seeing her sister’s eyes sewn shut.

  “There’s somethin’ I need to tell you before we walk into the refrigerator room,” Leah said.

  “Let me guess,” Mary Lynn said. “Lots of track marks? I’ve just been waiting for her to kill herself. She’s been heavy into drugs. From what I’ve heard, despite what she claimed, she was gettin’ worse, not better.”

  “Actually, I don’t think we found any track marks. I’ll have to ask Norm to be certain. But no . . . it’s worse. It’s somethin’ the killer did. With her eyes—”

  “What? What could—”

  “He sewed them up.”

  Mary Ann’s hand came to her mouth. “Who would—I . . .”

  “It’s okay. We can do this another time.”

  “I just can’t imagine. Was she . . . was Mercy alive when he did it?”

  Leah shook her head, even though it was a lie. Norman Crabtree had already told her he was quite sure the sutures were in place days before the victim was killed. But Mary Lynn didn’t need to know this about her sister’s last days. “No, she wouldn’t have felt a thing. Are you sure you’re up to this? We can wait until tomorrow?”

  Actually, by tomorrow, Mercy Jo’s body would be split down the center and cracked wide open. They couldn’t really wait until tomorrow.

  Leah saw Mary Lynn swallow. “N-no, no, I’m okay,” she said, almost to herself. “I’m okay. Really. I’m ready for this.”

  They walked into the refrigerator room, where Norm was busy washing up. Mercy Jo was lying on a table, ready to be cut open.

  “Oh my God,” Mary Lynn said, the words catching in her throat. Leah saw tears standing in her eyes. “She’s . . . she’s really gone. And the eyes. They’re . . .” She didn’t have to finish the sentence. Leah could do it for her. Hideous. Nobody deserved to die this way.

  “Okay, come on, let’s go,” Leah said, putting her arm around her.

  “No,” Mary Jane said, holding back Leah’s lead, “let me look just a minute longer at my Mercy.” She glanced up to Norman. “You found no track marks on her arms?”

  He shook his head. “None.”

  “She told me she was goin’ to try and get clean. I didn’t . . . I didn’t believe her.” She was sobbing now. Leah pulled her into a hug. “She had nobody down here,” Mary Lynn continued. “I could’ve . . .”

  “There’s nothin’ you could’ve done,” Leah said.

  “Yes, I could’ve been here, I could’ve . . .”

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  Leah led her outside, hating this part of her job.

  “Can I ask you a few questions ’bout your sister before you go, Miss Carpenter?”

  “Sure,” she said, her voice still shaky.

  “Did she have any enemies you know of? Any boyfriends who might feel slighted by her? Anyone who might want—”

  “No,” Mary Lynn said, cutting her off. “Nobody like that. She was even a good drunk. She liked to make people happy.” She st
arted crying. “Why would someone do this to her?”

  Leah gave her a hug. “I don’t know, hon, but I plan to find out.” They broke their embrace. And Leah lifted her chin until their eyes met. “Can I just ask you a few more questions? You up for it?”

  Mary Jane nodded.

  Leah wasn’t able to get much more useful information out of the woman. Maybe it would take some time.

  “Now, if you think of anythin’, anythin’ that might be even slightly applicable to this, please give me a call, okay?” Leah pulled one of her cards from her pocket and handed it to the woman.

  Mary Lynn took the card, nodding. Her cheeks were tearstained. Leah had a pretty good idea that the woman’s ride home was going to be a cry-fest. With a very heavy heart, Leah walked Mary Lynn to her car and watched her get on her way, heading back to Auburn and her studies, one sister less than she had yesterday.

  Mercy Jo Carpenter had lived in an illegal basement suite in Cloverdale—one of the low-cost housing districts in Alvin. Mary Lynn was able to provide an address. Later, Leah went and interviewed the people Mercy Jo rented from, Roger and Sarah Quinn. They lived above her, and after convincing them she wasn’t about to fine them for anything, the only real information they could provide was that Mercy Jo had a fairly healthy drinking problem. Seems like everyone knew that.

  “She was also often a week late with her rent payment,” the husband, Roger, had told Leah.

  “That was on account of her spending all her money on booze,” the wife chimed in.

  So maybe she had cleaned up the drugs. Or maybe she had just changed to a different crutch. Whichever it was didn’t really matter now.

  Sarah Quinn let Leah into Mercy Jo’s apartment. Mercy Jo was anything but neat and tidy. The place looked like a hurricane had run through it. There were empty cartons of beer everywhere. Empty vodka bottles were lined up against one wall. Leah wondered why she hadn’t returned all her empty bottles. She’d have been rich.

  Where there weren’t bottles, there were the remnants of take-out food. Chinese cartons, pizza boxes, you name it. “Do you guys have a cockroach problem or anythin’ like that?”