Crushed

by Kate Watterson

  “Or he hates me?” She wasn’t sure.

  “Wrong.” He finally glanced over. “Don’t even think of leaving without me. Give me five minutes. We’ll go to work together.”

  Like he got to give that decree. Except maybe she liked the idea of not walking out the door alone. She had to admit it, she was wary.

  Santiago was definitely a John Wayne and would leap out in front of her, guns blazing. It wasn’t that she couldn’t defend herself, but it was a good idea to have backup. That’s why police officers had partners in the first place.

  She gave in. “Five minutes. I’d have some coffee but it smells like you could pour it into your gas tank and it would work just fine.”

  He got to his feet. “I like it strong. You aren’t going to catch me having vanilla latte or some wimpy shit like that.”

  Ellie couldn’t help it. She raised a brow. “You’re just worried Montoya is right, aren’t you? Are we going to stop off at the gym so you can lift weights or at an outdoorsy store so you can buy camo gear?”

  “I actually don’t care how anyone lives their life, unless they are killing people, and then I take a serious interest. I’m going to take a quick shower and then we’re out of here.”

  She had to give him that one. She pretty much felt the same way. She actually thought about the coffee again, but was hesitant to go there, so she instead checked e-mails from her phone, and it was then she noticed a car cruising through the parking lot for the second time.

  Slow circle. Possibly someone picking up a kid for school and they just weren’t down there yet? Santiago’s building’s parking lot had more minivans than a car dealership, but this was a sporty car. From this distance it was impossible to get a license plate, but she took a picture of it with her phone anyway.

  Third circle. Then it sped away. Not picking up a kid.

  She was, after all, a police officer. It didn’t feel quite right.

  Santiago came out, his hair damp and probably only finger combed, which she suspected was how he operated. “Maybe we had a visitor.”

  “Like what?”

  She showed him the picture. “Recognize this car?”

  He studied it. “No, but we need to keep in mind random things happen all the time. Different people move in and move out.”

  He was right, of course. She said, “I just can’t imagine why anyone would drive through three times and take off.”

  “We have suspicious minds. Good call on the photo. Let’s go.”

  She drove, since they might as well carpool, and just to irk him, she stopped and got a vanilla latte to brighten her morning. Santiago drawled sarcastically in his signature way as they pulled out of the drive-through, “If I’d said I wouldn’t eat worms, would we be stopping off at a bait shop or something?”

  “Maybe.”

  The coffee was delicious, but the rest of their morning was not.

  The first person she saw as she walked through the door was Metzger hovering by her desk. Not in a good mood. He was not a man who hid his feelings well. He demanded, “Do you mind telling me why we have another body with writing on it and no suspect at all?”

  “What? Where?”

  “A different park. The mayor is getting involved because it really is such a bad reflection on the safety of our city. The two of you can get your asses over to this address and you tell me what happened. Last I checked, that was your job.” He jabbed a finger at a report and a flicker of dismay went through her entire body. “Just so you know, I told them if they don’t get in those cameras today someone will be terminated.”

  Santiago took her keys from her hand. “I’ll drive and you read. Tell me this happy story on our way. I’m kinda doubtful there’s a satisfying ride into the sunset at the end.”

  He didn’t get off scot-free either. Metzger said, “Get a haircut, Santiago. How often do we have to have this conversation?” Then he stalked away.

  Santiago muttered, “Whenever he’s pissed, he mentions my hair. What does that have to do with anything? By the way, I told you so.”

  Ellie was processing the report even as they walked out the door and was not at all happy. “This guy is so erratic. This time it’s a drowning.”

  “He’s sticking to suffocation. Nice. People don’t swim quite yet in this balmy climate in the spring and scribbling on yourself is old school. Just get a tattoo. Not an accident. I believe I mentioned I thought this would happen. I take it no ID?”

  “No. Of course not, because that would make it easy on us, and he isn’t interested in that at all.”

  “I think the real question is just what does he want?”

  She wanted to know as well.

  Maybe.

  * * *

  There was nothing like a facedown body to ruin your morning.

  The woman was wearing a skirt, jacket, and had gray hair. The team had dragged her from the water and Fergusson had sent in crime scene techs, so they were all over the place, working their magic.

  Jason looked around at unfurling leaves and daffodils and asked the pertinent question. “Who found the body?”

  “Some old guy walking his dog.” A young patrol officer handed over a slip of paper. “I wrote down his information from his driver’s license. He seemed just to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I saw no real reason to hold him, but told him you’d probably pay a visit. He had a dog on a leash, waited for us to respond, and was eighty if he was a day and maybe a hundred pounds. He was wearing a sweater vest. I didn’t think anyone even made those anymore.”

  “Hey, I have about six of those in my closet.” Jason couldn’t resist. “They’re comfortable. I wish he’d stuck around so we could ask him a few questions.”

  The officer said dryly, “Detective, you don’t somehow seem to me to a sweater vest sort of guy. Anyway, I don’t think he killed anyone, because he couldn’t physically manage it. I let him go because he said it was time for the dog’s medication. I swear I think that dog was older than he was. It peed on my foot. Maybe I looked like a tree or something. Geez, this day had better improve.”

  Jason couldn’t agree more. When the officer left, Ellie said tightly, “Hang on to that note because I want to know if a jogger happened to stop by.”

  He was interested in the same damn thing and just as sure that it probably wouldn’t help them at all if someone had, because unless they were wearing a name tag, it wasn’t going to give needed information.

  A deputy medical examiner named Halden came over and gave them a solemn nod. “Detectives. It seems all wrong to say good morning, so I won’t. Until we get her on the table I can’t say for sure, but it seems to me she was probably dumped here after a struggle. There are some bruises on her neck. If there is water in her lungs she was still alive when she went into the pond, and if there isn’t she was dead first. I’ll let you know, but you might want to look at this.”

  He lifted the victim’s hand. Inside of her right wrist in indelible ink: Not all roses are red.

  Ellie shut her eyes for a moment, but she snapped out of it. “He’s really making a statement. Time of death? Can we get an estimate?”

  “Water temperatures change things, but I’d say it happened just a few hours ago. Rigor really hasn’t set in and that water is pretty cold.”

  Interesting. The killer had certainly been busy last night and this morning.

  The DME said, “I have no idea what that writing means, but that is more your job than mine, and from the look on your faces, it struck a chord. Now if you don’t mind, we’re going to put the body in the van. I’ll send the report as soon as possible. We’re all aware this is an ongoing case.”

  Jason stood there with the breeze ruffling his apparently once again overlong hair as they loaded the victim. He needed to take time to look in the mirror more often. “You do realize he just gave us the link we needed. Not all roses are red, and he gave you that picture of black roses. It’s not DNA or anything, but circumstantial is better than nothing.”
>
  “Trust me, as someone who is not enjoying his special attention, I’ve already thought of that. Without sexual assault, DNA is a lot harder to pin down. I don’t have to remind you of that.”

  “No, you don’t. Maybe she fought and scratched him.”

  Ellie stood, looking out over the small pond. “I think he puts something over their heads. Like a pillowcase. A long one that goes down their arms. They don’t know what’s happening and are disoriented because they can’t see anything. It was morning, so I doubt she was drinking. She’s older than the other victims and less likely to put up a fight she could win.”

  “Maybe, but we can’t go to every retailer that sells textiles and ask if their pillowcase sales have gone up. You do realize I’m now following you into the women’s bathroom, even at the police station. I’m sure no one will mind.”

  “I can think of three female officers who might enjoy it, but some who would arrest you on the spot. I’d be inclined to just arrest you myself.”

  “Three, huh? Can I have names and numbers?”

  “Thelma is one of them. She keeps telling me to give you a chance. Maybe you should ask her out.”

  Thelma was a dispatcher who far outweighed him, was twenty years older, and regularly showed everyone she could trap pictures of her grandchildren. He said, “Now you can tell her you’ve slept with me.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t sleep.”

  “I didn’t, but you did. There you have it, it’s official. You’ve slept. With me.”

  She ignored that comment. MacIntosh had a sense of humor, it just didn’t always match his. “Some of the older ladies think you’re cute. I’ve never understood it.”

  He could ignore her too and pointed at the departing van with the body headed toward the morgue. “He’s not fooling around.”

  “No,” she agreed, hands in the pockets of her fluffy pink sweater. “I really am going to go ahead and call Montoya again. I’m sliding down a slope and don’t have a sense of where our target is going. This is number four.”

  “That we know of.”

  “He seems to have a focus and be good at this. I’m still wondering if it’s a cop.”

  “And he’s a young jogger. Let’s not forget into flowers, but without a lot of imagination unless he’s killing someone.”

  “Oh, listen to you. If you sent me flowers, what would you send?”

  “Roses.” He had to admit it. “Woman equals flowers, and the more expensive the stronger the message. Roses imply strong and sincere admiration. Our killer has sincere admiration.”

  “You don’t lack imagination. I would never have tracked down the tip about the older lady through the cashier where she bought the supermarket flowers just by their smell. I wonder if he realizes that’s the murder that will probably hang him on all the other ones.”

  They were walking back to the car and he said, “Ellie, call Montoya and we’ll talk afterward. I never flip out, but I’m heading that direction. You don’t want to hear about my fantasies, fine, but I bet you really don’t want to know about his.”

  “Thanks for that observation. You aren’t always the most cheerful of companions.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not in a cheerful mood. Maybe it was the corpse.”

  Chapter 16

  Another ticket cashed.

  He sat on his back porch and thought it all over. She’d deserved it. Didn’t she know that?

  That was the frustrating part.

  She hadn’t recognized him.

  It might have changed everything if she had, but he doubted it. He was careening down a treacherous path.

  That harsh, vindictive harridan hadn’t even recognized him.

  Her death had been a pleasure.

  * * *

  “My informant rolled, but the word of one man who has a rap sheet a mile long isn’t going to impress a judge.” Carl didn’t offer it as a disclaimer, but it was the cold, hard truth. “I know who did it now, but haven’t one shred of evidence except the word of a convicted drug dealer. If the shooter was smart he traded guns with one of his buddies, so the murder weapon is now in the hands of someone with a solid alibi. I hate these gang-related cases, but Metzger keeps giving them to me.”

  Georgia just smiled, elegant in a black suit. She could really pull that off. “I suspect you’re very good at solving them, or at least better than anyone else in the department. I think he’s a smart man. You represent authority more than someone, for instance, like Santiago. They would never talk to Ellie either. She’s a woman. My impression is it’s a very misogynist culture, and Santiago looks like he left his surfboard somewhere. They wouldn’t take him seriously either. You look like a detective. You look like authority.”

  “I like the free counseling.” Carl actually did like talking to her, so he wasn’t entirely joking. “And the other perks, of course.” He’d rarely spoken about his job with any other women he’d dated. “Last night was … memorable.”

  Her place this time. Drinks and dinner and a good aftermath in the bedroom, and now they were having lunch.

  She was amused too. “I’m good with memorable.” Then she stopped smiling. “I understand there was another murder.”

  “There’s always another murder. I assume you mean the Park Bench Killer. We have no idea who the victim is, as usual.”

  “Another note?”

  “We’ve been trying to keep that out of the press, but yes.”

  “He seems very motivated. I wish I had a better word. Let’s say intent. I know Ellie.”

  He had polished off his meal and felt better because he frequently didn’t eat enough. Georgia was not only interesting as a woman, but maybe good for him. “I’d agree with intent.”

  She’d ordered biscotti for dessert and took a ladylike bite. “There hasn’t been a breakthrough?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m helping, but not a lead investigator.”

  “Ellie is lead and not Santiago?”

  He considered it. “They are a unique team. She’s got insight and a way with a witness, and he’s a tough street-smart kid that became a cop. I don’t think the chief says one or the other and they decide. I think he just assigns the case and lets it fly. Good call. Let them handle it together.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t as if Georgia liked her job all of the time. Counseling certain patients took extraordinary patience and left her wondering if she’d actually helped. Ninety percent of the time she was sure she’d done more good than harm, but 100 percent was her goal. She’d say that after her lovely night and pleasant lunch she was maybe 70 percent helpful this afternoon, which ruined the nice afterglow. Her patient, who was a victim of domestic abuse in a previous marriage, had met a nice man and he’d proposed, she’d accepted, and now she had nightmares and actually had taken her engagement ring and dropped it in the toilet and sat sobbing in the bathroom for hours before she decided not to flush it. Then there was the man who was so sure all meats and vegetables were bad for you he only ate bread and took supplements, and his primary care physician had referred him because of his deteriorating health. Georgia had tried, but if she had to predict it from their first session, he would end up in an institution at least until they could sort out some meds that might help.

  But things were looking up.

  Her rebellious teenage patient Cindy said, “I’m thinking about trying to take some early college classes. I’m pretty sure I could get in. What do you think?”

  What do you think?

  That was a first. “In math? You are good at it.”

  “Oh, hell no. I can do math already.”

  Georgia considered her response carefully. Cindy was wearing a shirt that could pass for reasonable and some low-cut but barely respectable jeans. Definite improvement. “Is that what you are interested in doing?”

  “I’m not interested in engineering. I kinda have a few other ideas like maybe graphic arts … I love comic books and movies using pixel animation.”

&n
bsp; “Have you discussed this with your parents?”

  Cindy looked away for a second. “They think it’s stupid and a waste of money.”

  “They said that, or is it what you took away from the conversation?”

  “We didn’t have a conversation.”

  “Then how do you know it is what they think?”

  “I’ve only lived with them my whole life, Dr. Lukens.”

  Well, maybe she deserved that rebuke, or maybe she didn’t. “I’d like to point out that you can’t find out what people think without asking them. I do grant you that you might ask and they have the option not to tell you the truth, but I have learned from working with a lot of police detectives that there’s a reason they are supposed to not draw conclusions.”

  “Do you really?”

  “Do I really work with police officers? Yes, I do. They are pretty clear that hard, cold evidence is all that flies.”

  Cindy bit her painted black nails. “You really know cops? I’ve thought about that too.”

  That came out of the blue. Maybe Georgia wasn’t as insightful as she thought. Cindy was opposed to authority as far as she could tell. Better reassess that. “It certainly is a tough job, but a very worthy one in my opinion.”

  Homicide detectives, not beat cops. Georgia had to admit she paused. But she had a policy of being honest with her patients, at least as much as possible. “Most of the ones I know work murder cases. It isn’t where you start. I see them if they’ve been injured in the line of duty or have had to injure someone else. What makes you so interested, Cindy?”

  “I’ve just always thought that might be pretty cool.”

  Since Cindy didn’t think anything was cool, that was certainly a positive sign. “If you’d like, and your parents either call me or send written permission, I can probably arrange for you to talk to one or two of them and ask questions about what they do.”

  Carl might be too well dressed and well mannered for a teenage girl like Cindy, but Ellie and Santiago might be perfect, since Ellie was female and Santiago was light-years away from formal. He might appeal to someone her age.