“If you can do better, you’re holding back. Maybe this grandma can help us out. A stranger approached her to buy out a bunch of flowers and that’s damn weird. Walk into the store and buy them yourself unless you are hedging your bets by not being caught on surveillance cameras. Notice he picked someone who wouldn’t rip him off and run out the back door. I bet that sweet little oldster even gave him back his change.”
She couldn’t deny that was a good point. “I did notice that detail.”
“So he calculates and weighs his options. What else?”
“Possible, but not probable, on the witness.”
“Now we are cooking. I agree on that. Next move?” He braked for a light.
She’d been thinking about it. “I keep trying to decide if staying quiet is best, or if we should make the notes on the bodies public. It might be what he wants.”
“Stay quiet.” Santiago was emphatic. “I’m not playing with this asshole. Anyone who suffocates and strangles people is in the twilight zone. If he wants fame, I’m not in favor of giving it to him.”
Ellie didn’t disagree, but then again, cases were solved by outside tips often enough. “We should talk to Metzger and get his opinion.”
“Better you than me. He hasn’t forgiven me yet for being shot so many times in the line of duty. He acts like I was trying to get shot.”
It was true. Santiago was a unique statistic, since most officers went their whole career without a shot fired in their direction. Ellie had been shot too, but he was the clear winner in the hit target division and she’d let him have and keep that title. “I’ll ask him what he thinks about it all. In the end it’s his call anyway.”
“It just seems like we are on shaky ground. There’s nothing but quicksand beneath us.”
“I agree. How are we supposed to get what’s coming next?”
“We aren’t. Until we figure out his pattern, he has us by the—”
“Don’t say it.” Ellie had interrupted him so many times since she’d met him she’d lost count. She drummed her fingers on the dashboard. “I almost hate to admit this, but you’re right. We have to shut him out to catch him.”
“So we’ll quietly ignore his ass and investigate, right?”
“He’ll kill again.”
“He’s going to anyway.”
It always scared her when she was in tune with Jason Santiago. “What I’m afraid of.”
“I’m all for not giving him press. Cameras are at the park, so in case he comes back to fondly remember his favorite pastime we can get a shot at identifying him, and maybe the family of Calvin Hanes or a neighbor or someone will think of something.”
It didn’t help at all that Hanes was a bachelor and his elderly parents lived in Duluth. There had also been alcohol in his system, but not nearly as much as with the first victim.
“I think the perp is too smart for that.”
Santiago rubbed his jaw in a characteristic mannerism. “Maybe his buddies at work could tell us what bar was his favorite. I drink alone, but I’m a sophisticated kind of man. Some people think social drinking is the only way to go. I solo most of the time.”
If nothing else, her partner was good for a laugh now and then in a job that didn’t provide a lot of levity. “Sophisticated? Yeah, that’s you all right. Let’s go see what we can find out.”
* * *
Jason wasn’t optimistic about the inquiries, which meant he wasn’t disappointed either.
Calvin hadn’t been much of a friend with anyone, so the lack of response wasn’t surprising. He’d worked his shift and gotten off and then not shown up for work the next day. While he wasn’t too connected to his coworkers, he was reliable. When his boss tried to call to find out what was up and got no answer, his supervisor was worried maybe he’d had a heart attack.
“No one answered the door and there was at least several days of mail in the box.” The harried man shook his head, holding a clipboard and multitasking by talking to them and waving in a truck to the dock. “I know you aren’t supposed to mess with anyone’s mail, but I’m not a detective. I didn’t know how else to see if he’d been around lately. I swear I didn’t touch anything. I just looked. I tried knocking like fifteen times and found delivered newspapers still on the front porch. That’s when I called the police.”
In this case, Jason was a much better choice to do the questioning. “We aren’t worried about his mail, and now neither is he. We’d just like to find who killed him. He a drinker?”
“I think he had a few beers now and then, but nothing over the top. Trust me, I know the signs, and I’ve fired a few guys for coming in hungover on a regular basis. Calvin wasn’t perfect, but hey, who is. He was a good worker and he’d never missed before without calling in. I can’t believe anyone would want to kill him. He went to work, and then I suspect he went home and just sat there and watched television. No girls, no gambling that I ever heard of, for sure no drugs because we test at random since a lot of our employees are drivers, so it’s a company-wide policy.”
“When you called you really helped us identify him. What else can you tell us about him?”
The man shrugged. “He was just an average guy. A loner, but not so much he wouldn’t tell a joke now and then or even offer to pick up an extra shift if someone had a family emergency. I have a feeling he might have been gay, but if I had to call it, he just suppressed that. For my part, all I really care about is that they show up for work. Kind of sad if the only one who misses you is your boss.”
They were standing in a loading dock and the big truck was backing in, beeping, and they moved out of the way. Jason said, “Thanks for the information.”
MacIntosh asked as they walked back to the parking lot, “Why? Why him? It sounds like he wasn’t bothering anyone, so he wasn’t a natural target for murder unless maybe he was up to something illegal no one knows anything about.”
“Why the pretty young woman if sexual assault wasn’t the intent? Has to be the same killer. The signature is a fairly conclusive bit of evidence there.”
“Good question,” Ellie agreed as they got to his truck. “Just being able to kill?”
“Maybe. Self-defense or revenge are the only two reasons I understand. The rest of it is just incomprehensible bullshit.” He pushed the button on his key chain to unlock the doors. “I was in the military and I had no desire to kill anyone, but if they come after you, that’s self-defense.”
If someone harmed her, he might consider revenge. Those flowers really bothered him.
Of course she had moved fast to open her own door. They had some sort of contest going on over that act of courtesy and he wasn’t aware of why. She quickly climbed in and commented, “I don’t disagree.”
They hadn’t talked yet about his emotional and frank admission, and she deflected it if he even tried. Just the simple opening of a door was now a source of tension.
He was obviously an idiot for having told her. However, it was nice to get it off his chest, and he didn’t think for a minute she’d been surprised. If he hadn’t tacked on the part of what they were going to do about it, he might have been okay. He wanted to talk about it, but then again he didn’t in case she took any possibility of a private relationship off the table. He got in and started the truck. “I have no desire to go to Duluth, and I doubt his parents can help us. Let’s go back to my original thought and sift through his financial stuff and see if he frequented a specific bar. Right now we’re fishing without a worm on the end of our hook.”
“That usually doesn’t produce stellar results, I agree.”
“You fish?” He wasn’t even quite sure why he asked.
“I’m from northern Wisconsin. Of course I do.”
“I’ve never done it.”
Ellie turned to stare at him. Her expression was incredulous. “What?”
He had to shrug. “My old man wasn’t into anything like that. He watched television and drank himself to death. Those were his two hobbies. I start
ed mowing the lawn when I was about six years old, because even at that age, I realized it was embarrassing to have the worst yard on the block. I’m lucky I didn’t cut off a foot or something, but a nice neighbor showed me how to work the thing, probably because he wanted our yard to look better and not live next to a dump. My old man did me a favor there, since I eventually made some cash in the summers doing it for other people too.”
“You’ve really never been fishing? You live by some of the largest inland lakes in the world, Santiago.”
He wished, really wished, she’d just call him by his given name all the time. He used hers. “Just not part of my life experiences. However, if you need your grass cut, I’m your guy.”
“I’ll take you fishing. You haven’t lived until you’ve fished up near Hayward.”
He came close to blowing the whole thing by asking if they’d share a hotel room, but caught himself at just the last moment. “Sounds interesting. I’ve always wondered why people liked it so much.”
“Trees crowding the bank, cool, deep water, and always intrigued by what you just hooked … it’s addicting. It’s also relaxing. No television, no e-mails, no ringing phone unless you’re an idiot and bring one and leave it on.”
“Teach me.” He tried, but he didn’t do casual well. There was a reason Metzger told him to just shut up on a regular basis when they were having a special chat; one of those he’d had often enough he’d just soon skip any more. “I could use another addiction. I’d thought about taking up smoking, but fishing sounds better.”
“Um, yes, probably. Look at the upside for me: There’s always the chance a giant muskie might drag you over the side of the boat into the watery depths.”
“Don’t sound so hopeful.”
“A girl can dream. Did we gain anything from this interview?”
“He was quiet, middle-aged and withdrawn, and she was young and social. Those two were very different victims.”
“Back at square one. There’s a thread; we just haven’t found it. Since we just mentioned it, he’s like a fishing spider. He grabs whatever he can get and then crawls away. Nothing good happens after that for the victim.”
“A what?” He really was mystified.
“Fishing spider.”
“Never heard of such a thing.”
“They literally jump into the water for prey. No webs; they are huge hunting spiders.”
“You’re making that up.”
“No, I’m not. I saw one down in Indiana once. They are quite the predator. So is our guy.”
Jason didn’t disagree with that, but the idea of fishing had lost its gloss. A muskie he could handle, but a giant spider creeped him out. So did their perp. “I’m now considering bowling instead of fishing because of the spider thing, but wearing those shoes kind of turns me off. What do you want to do next?”
He wasn’t just talking about the case and she knew it.
“I’ll reach out to his parents in Duluth again. I want them to understand we’re trying.”
“Ellie, we are trying. What else? I’m wide open to all ideas.”
“I wish I had some.”
He couldn’t argue that one. “This isn’t our easiest walk in the park, and that wasn’t intended as a bad pun by the way. Have we ever had an easy case?”
“Not really,” she agreed, briefly closing her eyes. “At times I wonder why I do this, and then come right back to wondering what else I’d do.”
He’d been through the same introspection. “I’ve considered being a greeter at a retail store, but I swear I wouldn’t pass the interview. If they asked me if I would never tell anyone to go fuck off because they didn’t answer my sunny smile, with all due honesty I’d have to tell the truth that the likelihood was pretty high I would.”
Her mouth twitched. “Not the answer they’d be looking for if I had to venture a guess.”
“I have no idea how they profile potential employees, but I’d guess you’re right. So you see, I’m also stuck being a cop.”
Chapter 6
It was a dual performance.
He was settling some old scores. Two down.
There were some inevitable casualties on the way, of course. It couldn’t be helped. No one understood how the universe operated exactly. Countries went to war, people got sick and died, and now and then a blown tire made you veer into the wrong lane.
He was definitely the lane you wanted to avoid.
No one was home so he didn’t even need to be quiet. He drilled the hole and took out the equipment, installed it, and it was as easy as promised.
After today she’d have no secrets.
* * *
Grasso was at odds with himself for the first time. He’d always known where he was headed in his life. Solitude was his friend, but maybe the road less traveled was in the cards.
Georgia’s e-mail had been simple. “Had a nice time. Repeat performance?”
He was all for it. “Tonight? My house this time with the warning included that I’ll just pick up the food and not cook it as a favor to you. Do you like Italian?”
She typed back. “Absolutely. I have a late-afternoon patient. Will seven o’clock work for you?”
“Sounds perfect. See you then.”
He almost wiped the smile off his face before Fergusson reached his desk, but not quite. “Oh, you’re kidding me, Grasso.” The chief detective was thickset and had the sense of humor of a colony of fire ants. “Did you just ask someone to prom and she said yes? I recognize that glassy-eyed look in a man’s eyes.”
Maybe the man was a detective for a reason.
“I’m unwilling to answer that question.”
“Fair enough. Anyway, no progress on the gang-related murder, I take it.”
“Did you expect any?”
“I was hoping someone would roll over. Nothing, huh?”
“They are a closemouthed group. Who can blame them? Roll over and you might be dead. It is the life they chose, and while I suspect most of them regret it sooner or later, it’s like a tattoo. You can’t just wash it off.”
“Well, do your best and then we can cold file it if we have to eventually go that direction. It isn’t like the kid’s family didn’t know he had gang ties.”
“It doesn’t make it any easier for them.” Carl was someone who understood catastrophic loss.
Fergusson wasn’t a bad person, he was just a man with a hard job. “I get it, but then again, you could also be helping someone else if it is going nowhere instead of spinning your wheels. I wish I didn’t have to, but I’m assigning you another case. An older woman on the south side that it looks like might have died under suspicious circumstances. There’s no crime scene and I’m going to warn you, the evidence is very muddy. This might not be a homicide, but her family thinks it is. Want to know why it’s bugging me?”
Carl hated questions like those. He lived his life in an ordered way and made decisions based on facts and logic. “Go ahead.”
“She lived very close to where the murders MacIntosh and Santiago are investigating occurred. I wouldn’t have made my rank in the department if I didn’t have some intuitive sense for a case, and I’m not saying I think there’s a connection, I’m just wondering. Maybe she was a witness. They can’t seem to find one so far.”
“Near the park?”
“Very close. Too close. I don’t like it, and when I don’t like something, it makes me grouchy.”
Grasso refrained from mentioning Fergusson was grouchy all the time. “Why does her family think she was murdered?”
“It’s your job to figure that out, Grasso. They do. That’s all I know. The regular officers that responded didn’t see any evidence of it, but they aren’t you.”
He walked away and Carl thoughtfully watched him go before he picked up the file. Fergusson could be unrelenting, but he wasn’t dumb by any means. Mrs. Armistad had died right outside her front door from trauma to the head. Her body had been found when her daughter had dropped by with a
cake pan she’d borrowed. The daughter—an emergency nurse—had been alarmed that her mother had a very large bruise on her forehead that didn’t look normal from a fall. No blood and no broken skin, but blunt force maybe from the position of the body. No natural apparent cause of death.
Carl didn’t like it either, and neither did the assistant medical examiner who reviewed the case. He read the report and it said the manner of death was inconclusive based on the presented evidence. It was possible only if she fell and was still able to move, but he doubted if it was a fall hard enough to cause a hemorrhage to the brain that would knock her unconscious. But stranger things had happened in his expert opinion.
Inconclusive. What every detective wanted to hear.
Not exactly.
It gave you latitude when you started the investigation, but it also presented a complication that you maybe were looking for something that just wasn’t there. The germ of doubt that might compromise any officer’s resolve to ferret out the truth of any puzzle didn’t really help the situation.
He left the office, ordered mozzarella chicken, a salad, and garlic bread from his phone with a set pickup time, and pulled out of the parking lot, still thinking about this new case.
For one thing, Mrs. Armistad hadn’t been robbed. The first two victims had been stripped of any personal possessions that might identify them. She’d been killed right in front of her home, so that wasn’t necessary.
If she’d been killed at all.
Old lady collapses and hits her head. End of story, but still better than butting up against stubborn teens with attitude that you know have the answers to your questions but just aren’t all about talking to the police.
He had an hour or so and decided to cruise by the park. It was low key and pretty, as the sun had decided to make a fairly dramatic descent with streaks of crimson and dark blue, but there were some serious storms in the forecast. He’d been asked more than once why he didn’t just sell that big house and move somewhere more hospitable. The truth was, he liked Milwaukee. It was in many ways a beautiful city in a beautiful state. The weather wasn’t perfect—at all—but he didn’t have to worry about hurricanes or earthquakes, and at least people knew how to drive in the snow in Wisconsin. There were worse places to live.
Crushed Page 5
