Crushed

by Kate Watterson

  The park was once again taped off, a small crowd gathered, and the uniformed officers looked relieved to see them arrive. It was, with the typical vagaries of a spring in Wisconsin, a beautiful day, but the park wasn’t as pretty as it should be.

  By a long shot.

  This murder was quite different from the last one.

  “Deputy ME is on his way,” Owens, a tall, lanky man evidently in charge of the scene, an officer she’d met before, informed them. “I handled the last call to this park too. I would have a problem now sitting down on that bench and eating a sandwich even though it is a pretty spot. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll be happy when they take the body away.”

  Ellie instantly understood why. This was not some pretty young woman who looked asleep. This was a man who had been strangled with a thin wire, sitting on the bench in the exact spot. There was a dark spot extending down his temple to his cheekbone that suggested maybe he’d been knocked out before he was strangled, but she’d let the autopsy results determine if that was a correct guess.

  She had no idea what was going on either.

  Santiago, of course, summed it up in his unique way, but his blue eyes were troubled. “Well, son of a bitch. He isn’t following a pattern. I don’t think we need an ME to tell us cause of death or manner of death.”

  “In some ways the perp might be following a pattern. No wallet. We don’t have an ID.” Police officer Owens didn’t look happy either. “Good luck. How’s the other case going?”

  Nowhere.

  Ellie told him just that. “Let’s put it this way, we need some luck getting a handle on it.”

  “Better you than me.”

  When he walked away, Jason shoved his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go talk to anyone and everyone while we wait for the troops to arrive. I really hate interviewing witnesses, but we need to do it.”

  “Give me a second.”

  She didn’t like the process either, but it was her job to find out who might have killed the current victim.

  She pulled on gloves. “Just a hunch.” Very carefully, she kneeled to lean over to look at the inside of the man’s right wrist. Sure enough, she could see writing on it and definitely felt a chill that was in direct contrast to the sun and clear sky. “Well, he left us another message.”

  Her partner ran his hand through his hair, puffed out a breath, and squatted down to look it over. “You know, I told you this was going to be a bad case. Admit I was right. What does it say?”

  If there was nothing else she could say, he did have spot-on instincts. “I can’t tell without moving the body because rigor has set in and Hammett would have my head on a platter. I can see the writing, though.”

  “Great. He’s a real piece of work. I’m not getting our bad guy right away and I don’t like it.”

  Neither did she.

  Ellie stood and shook her head. “I have no idea. Unfortunately, being a pretty young woman might make you a target for a certain kind of killer, but this newest victim is a middle-aged man. What’s the connection between the two of them?”

  “There has to be one. Let’s go see if any of the gawkers can help us out.”

  She was very happy—for their sake—the Morris couple wasn’t involved in finding the body, but she suspected they’d decided to walk elsewhere from now on anyway. The person who had called it in was a maintenance worker for the city who was emptying the trash cans and caught sight of the body.

  Slightly overweight and rattled, he was perspiring obviously at just having to talk to them. “I thought he was a vagrant, just sitting there. Got the jolt of a lifetime when I realized … well, that he was dead. When you got close that was obvious. Jesus.”

  Ellie was convinced no one connected to a higher power had anything to do with that and went through the usual drill. “No one was around?”

  “I didn’t see anyone except the dead guy. I was flipping out, you know.”

  She did, and it was what she dealt with all the time. Patiently, she said, “I do know, but keep this in mind, the slightest small thing, even a single detail, can help us. You might not think it matters, but it could. If there was a gum wrapper on the ground it could help us.”

  The man didn’t remember anything at all useful, but just repeated about six times, “I can’t believe I found a dead guy.”

  “Buddy, I’d ask for a raise.” Santiago nudged her. “Let’s go do the fun part.”

  * * *

  What a bust.

  He’d been stymied on cases before, but this was different.

  Since operating on motive was never productive, Jason didn’t approach anything that way. He didn’t understand why anyone would kill someone they didn’t know or dislike on a personal basis, but it happened.

  It was why he had a job.

  When he was an MP in the military he’d even dealt with people trained to kill people. The maniacs were better at it as far as he was concerned. If you had the slightest conscience you were at a disadvantage. Trained killers were meticulous, but they had a reason.

  What do you think now?

  That had been the message inked on the wrist of the victim.

  “No one saw a thing and the scene is clear of evidence. Killed him somewhere else and brought him here.” Ellie walked next to him, her lightweight jacket unzipped, the wind ruffling her fair hair. “A park is a pretty good choice when you think it over. People are coming and going, so a footprint or a fingerprint could belong to anyone. I’d like to know how our killer gets the bodies here without anyone seeing anything.”

  “In the middle of the night it’s still cold enough this time of year that no one is out running, very few people on the streets, and if you had the body wrapped up, you could use the park’s lot and be pretty much invisible. Lots of trees and a public place to make sure your work is found and admired.” Jason could see it.

  “Admired?”

  “I think he wants us to know he’s smarter than the homicide division of the Milwaukee Police Department.”

  “You do realize you’re a die-hard cynic, right?”

  “Oh, and you’re not?” He resisted the urge to point out he was the one who lived in an apartment building full of families with small children, while she’d rented a generic condo when she moved out of Grantham’s house. It was his opinion it was impossible to do their job and live a completely normal life. His insomnia at times was so acute that if he slept three hours he counted it a good night. Eventually he crashed and burned one day and woke up on the couch with a dry mouth and no idea what time it was, the victim of some dreams he hoped he would never remember, but at least he’d caught up on his sleep. Eight hours was a gift.

  “In some ways maybe,” she admitted.

  He tried hard also to not think about how much he wanted to touch her hair, currently blowing around her shoulders. His focus was askew and Metzger would just plain have his ass in a sling if he realized it. Well, maybe his boss did realize it, and that was bad all the way around. He’d been threatened with reassignment before. The only thing in his favor was that there was no argument he and MacIntosh had a solid record of solving crimes together.

  “We’re being taunted. He could kill them and leave them, and get away with it, but he’s taking us on. Two bodies in the same location isn’t quite usual in the first place, but the writing on the wrist … that’s his dare right there.”

  She didn’t disagree. “I’m sure he’s aware now that we’ll put up surveillance cameras and have extra officers in the area.”

  Jason paused by the car, waiting for her to unlock it. “I’m not positive yet if he’s smart or just lucky so far, but I’m voting for smart.”

  His phone rang before she even replied, and he answered it immediately, because if the chief detective, Fergusson, called, he knew it was either bad news or good news, and he might as well get the first over with or embrace the second option. He’d been the recipient of both.

  “This is Santiago.”

 
“In light of where you are right now, we have a missing person report you and MacIntosh might want to check into because it fits the timeline of the other case.”

  Good news. That was a relief anyway.

  “I’ll text you the details. I looked at the report from Hammett and the description seems to match. Her sister hasn’t heard from her and they usually talk every day, she isn’t answering her phone, and missed work. The sister lives over by the lake, and I warn you, she’s pretty frantic. Let MacIntosh do the talking.”

  “You say that every time. I might as well have my vocal cords removed.”

  Dryly, Fergusson responded, “I think we all in the MPD might appreciate that. Silent Santiago has a nice ring to it. I’ll send the address.”

  Jason told Ellie as they climbed into the car, “That was Fergusson. Change of plans. Maybe we just caught a break, but now we have to go invite a family member down to the Underworld for what might not be the most pleasant experience of her lifetime. I hate this part of the job.”

  She looked somber too. “None of us like it. Look at the bright side. You don’t have to talk.”

  “You heard that, huh?”

  “Didn’t need to hear it. The chief told me the day we were assigned together I needed to do the interviews.”

  “Well, damn, I feel loved.” Jason muttered the words, automatically fastening his seat belt. “That’s just so flattering.”

  “You never skim around a point. You’re too direct, and sensitivity is not your strong suit.”

  “Why would I be sensitive about a murder investigation?”

  “See, your general attitude is the problem.”

  That was entirely possible. “I have a lot of problems. One of them is two bodies left in the same spot and no motive, but they have to be connected somehow. Same killer. He didn’t leave a signature as a metaphor for his method of killing, he left a real one. I’m here to help the families, by the way.”

  Ellie raised her brows slightly at the use of metaphor, but didn’t comment. He had to admit he didn’t use highbrow language often. She said, “Well, maybe he hasn’t heard of the FBI’s handwriting analysis experts.”

  “I bet he has.” There was no doubt in his mind that they were dealing with someone intellectual. “He’s just confident we won’t ever suspect him, so he isn’t worried about it. And don’t ask me why I’m sure, because every homicide detective has asked themselves how we catch them, and the disturbing answer is that we understand how they think.”

  “That’s cheerful.”

  “You aren’t shopping at the cheerful store here. Wake up.”

  The address ended up being a very nice house in a neighborhood of upscale houses. On his salary, Jason could maybe have afforded the front porch. The woman who answered the door was a housekeeper, and they were led through a grand foyer to certainly the nicest kitchen he’d ever seen in person, with fancy quartz countertops—when he was really bored at home he sometimes switched off sports for home improvement shows just to broaden his horizons at least a little because one day he wanted to be a grown-up and buy a house—and cherry cabinets. A woman was taking a baking sheet full of cookies out of the oven. She set it on the counter and then wiped her hands on a towel.

  “Mrs. Turner? I’m Detective MacIntosh and this is Detective Santiago.”

  Ellie showed her badge and the woman smiled tremulously. “When I’m anxious, I bake. If the kids ever figure it out, they’ll get in trouble on purpose just to have cupcakes. Is this about Karen? Have you found her?”

  He was afraid they had. This woman looked a lot like her dead sister.

  Chapter 4

  She didn’t bring the flowers home.

  He wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or flattered that they were likely still on Ellie MacIntosh’s desk. Maybe she hadn’t connected the dots, but he was fairly sure by now she had.

  They were playing a game.

  He was in the lead right now and she had no idea by how much.

  The tall blond cop was with her. Maybe they’d argued over something, because their body language had screamed dissention as she’d deactivated the alarm and unlocked the door. Neither one of them even noticed him.

  He assumed maybe they might have some level of emotional or sexual involvement, but that was going to end.

  He’d take care of it.

  * * *

  It was out of character for her to use avoidance, but then again, she was human. Dr. Georgia Lukens didn’t answer the call and let it go to voice mail. Instead she considered the display of glossy dark purple eggplant and reminded herself she didn’t actually like eggplant. It looked good, but she didn’t have the knack to prepare it properly, or else everyone who loved it liked bitter mush, and she doubted that was the case.

  Heirloom tomatoes were much more her style. She picked out a couple and put them into the basket. She could make a salad with the best of them, and her blue cheese dressing with garlic did get rave reviews.

  It had been awhile, but she had a date.

  Yes, she went out to dinner with one of her male colleagues now and then, but the relationship was basically platonic, though she knew he wanted to take it to a different level. This was a date date. With someone else entirely, and if she wasn’t a clinical psychologist—but she was—she would just think the slight case of butterflies in her stomach was girlish nerves.

  She headed for the dairy aisle, thinking she hadn’t been a girl in quite some time and was almost amused with herself. She picked up cream for the Alfredo with asparagus, and was in the checkout lane when Ellie called her. That ring she always took, so she smiled apologetically at the clerk and swiped her credit card.

  “Dr. Lukens.”

  “Do you have time for a short meeting tonight?”

  MacIntosh only asked for that on a work-related basis. “Case?”

  “Yes.”

  She glanced at the time on her phone. She’d consulted for the Milwaukee Police Department before. “I have company coming for dinner, but could give you about half an hour. Come over to the condo for a glass of wine.”

  Their friendship was built on mutual experiences—not all of them were good. On the upside, those same shared experiences had forged an unusual relationship and professional respect on both sides.

  MacIntosh accepted. “I might need one. The expensive stuff, please. I deserve it as a public servant.”

  Georgia grabbed her bag and headed for the door. “Of course. I won’t cart out the boxed swill.”

  “I just need some insight.”

  “Expensive wine takes care of that?”

  Ellie laughed, but there wasn’t any mirth in it. “It helps. Is twenty minutes okay?”

  “Should be fine.”

  Normally they saw each other only at Georgia’s office, but she didn’t have the time to drive there and then back to make dinner. She made it only in time to carry in the groceries before the buzzer went off indicating she had a visitor. She hit the accept button, uncorked the wine, and a few minutes later let Ellie through the door.

  Detective MacIntosh looked put together in dark slacks, a light pink blouse, and her usual minimal makeup but she didn’t need more, which Georgia envied. She glanced around, always observant. “I like the new lamp.”

  “It cost a small fortune, but I like it too. I can’t believe you noticed. Remind me to not commit a crime and have you investigate it.” She poured merlot into a glass.

  Predictably, MacIntosh was direct as she slid onto a stool. “Too late for that. Let’s talk about crime for a few minutes. That’s why I’m here after all.”

  “You sit at the island and talk, and I will prep for dinner if you don’t mind. I have a guest on his way soon.”

  “Is that right? His way … hmm. Hot date?”

  The table was set and crystal wineglasses and table linens were involved. Georgia responded, “Who knows? First date. Now tell me, what kind of conversation are we having, Detective?”

  “Santiago has a the
ory.”

  “I’m frightened already. By the way, I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not, but when we talk about a case he’s Santiago. Otherwise, he’s Jason. You are trying to put your feelings in neat little compartments. I wish I could tell you that worked.”

  “I know.” Ellie took a sip from her glass. “We’re good friends that also interact professionally. Does that work? Very nice wine, by the way.”

  “French. Glad you like it.” Georgia got out her favorite slicing knife and started to wash the tomatoes. She said over her shoulder, “It works sometimes. Santiago is the detective and Jason is the man. I’m not positive you can keep them separate, but you are definitely trying. Tell me about this case.”

  “Cases. We have two murders. Both bodies have been left in the same spot, both victims died of asphyxiation but not by the same method. We have no doubt it’s the same killer. He leaves a signature, and I mean literally. He leaves a note directly written on the body.”

  From a psychological viewpoint that was interesting. She put the tomatoes on the cutting board, thinking it over, and took out an antique plate. “He or she wants you to know they are out there.”

  Ellie fingered the delicate stem of her glass. “It’s probably a he, because the bodies had to be carried. Santiago thinks this lovely individual is taunting us, taking us on. We just identified the first victim and she was a graduate student from an affluent family, maybe a bit of a party girl, but the second victim is a middle-aged man named Calvin Hanes who worked for a warehouse unloading trucks. If there’s a connection between them, we can’t find it yet.”

  Georgia considered it for a moment, knife in hand. “So maybe you have an opportunistic killer. The act is his thrill.”

  Ellie’s hazel eyes were troubled. “I’m not sure what’s going on. Killing two very different victims is one thing, but making sure the police know you are the same killer seems strange to me. Killing anyone is strange to me.”