Scent of Murder

by James O. Born

  That’s why Junior had handled the situation the best way he could. He forgot it. Completely.

  Maybe that’s why he didn’t like cops. Maybe that’s why he had a job that required him to go to people’s homes and make a judgment on their behavior. Maybe that’s why he was so fucked up.

  His stomach tightened and all he could think about was Michelle Swirsky humiliating him.

  Now he snapped back to reality as his father raised his hoarse voice, knocking him out of his memories.

  Bill Slaton Sr. said, “What’s wrong, Junior? You gone batty on me?”

  Junior looked down and shook his head, trying to make sense of everything he’d just recalled.

  His father said, “So you’ve moved on from your dick. I was afraid it would push you to do stupid things. Is your dick part of your dreams?” The old man’s cackle reminded him of Karen Olson.

  “No, my dick plays no role in this particular dream.” It wasn’t a lie. In fact, it was probably thanks to this old bastard’s treatment that he hadn’t had a meaningful relationship with a woman in nearly thirty years.

  His father cackled, “So you’re still a dickless wonder, huh?”

  “I should be after what you put me through.”

  The old man nodded and said, “Finally starting to get some backbone.”

  Junior realized he had to finish things with Michelle to prove he had some backbone. Then maybe he’d deal with his father like a man.

  41

  Tim Hallett had scrambled to see Bill Slaton leaving work in his personal vehicle. It wasn’t hard to follow the older Ford Taurus. He had studied the car’s hood, matching it with the mental image of the partial photograph of the car where Michelle Swirsky was attacked. The whole theory was still far-fetched, and he had a lot to prove before anyone would listen to him. He thought about Fusco’s comment that it was really Rocky’s theory.

  If the investigation had been sanctioned, he could match DNA, but for now that option was out. So was a photo lineup with the victims. They would blab to the detectives working the case and end Hallett’s private investigation. This was one of the few viable options: surveillance.

  Once again, the CAT was using three unmarked white Tahoes to follow a suspect. Technically, they weren’t authorized to do the surveillance, so they weren’t on duty, so they would only be fired for that, and not for the earlier breaking of the HIPAA and gaining unlawful access to medical information. What had he gotten himself and his friends into?

  The whole thing could be a wild goose chase, but Hallett knew he had to play it out. Rocky seemed to be game as he paced in his compartment. He sure would like to get the dog close to Slaton again and see if he had the same reaction. But Fusco had already explained to him that he needed more to get anyone’s attention.

  As they drove through suburban West Palm Beach, Hallett called out the location of the Ford Taurus to his partners. The more he considered Slaton, the more sense it made. He had access to computers relating to Department of Corrections inmates. It would give him enough information to search online for family members as well. He really could pick his victims based on their background and was probably smart enough to do it based on jurisdictions so no one would link the different kidnappings together. He could have even learned to hot-wire a car from one of his probationers.

  Hallett had already tried to call John Fusco, but he wasn’t even answering his phone anymore.

  Darren said he would call Sergeant Greene, but Hallett didn’t know why his friend thought it would do any good.

  Hallett backed off the Ford Taurus. Slaton wasn’t driving crazily and signaled clearly before he turned. It wasn’t like a dope surveillance. Slaton wasn’t looking for anyone following him. After fifteen minutes he pulled into a nursing home in a run-down part of the county near a town known as Palm Springs.

  Hallett knew the facility. This was where Crystal’s grandmother, Ella, lived. He had been here dozens of times with Rocky and Josh, trying to visit more patients than just the elderly woman who helped raise Crystal. Why on earth would Slaton be coming here?

  Hallett never actually saw Slaton walk inside the concrete building, but saw him march out about twenty minutes later. Hallett got on the radio and said, “Can someone else take the eye on Slaton? I’m gonna run inside and see what I can find out.” He heard Darren say he’d be the lead car in the surveillance.

  Rocky let out a short howl as Hallett slipped out of the Tahoe, then opened the rear compartment and put Rocky on a special decorative leash they used for nonpolice work. It let Rocky now he wasn’t on duty, and it didn’t look as threatening to people on the street. He was wearing casual clothes now, jeans and a button-down shirt left untucked to cover his pistol. Hallett was counting on the staff to recognize him and Rocky and allow him access to the building. He hustled to the front door of the nursing home and directly to the receptionist at the desk.

  The cute, young Latin woman gave him a dazzling smile and said, “Hey, Deputy, what’re you doing here so late?”

  Whew, he had gotten lucky. Hallett said, “I’m supposed to meet a friend. His name is Bill Slaton.” He was going to give more of his fake story when the receptionist volunteered, “Oh he’s probably visiting his dad.” She pointed behind her and said, “Down this hallway, then turn right, room 117.”

  Hallett thanked her as he and Rocky headed down the hallway, wondering if Slaton’s father might let some information slip. They were delayed twice by elderly people who recognized their favorite dog and took a moment to pat his head. As always, Rocky held perfectly still and gave a quick wag of his tail to show his appreciation.

  * * *

  Darren Mori found he enjoyed the complexity of conducting surveillance. He was even multitasking. The Ford Taurus driven by Bill Slaton was two cars ahead of him, driving south on Military Trail. He called out the position to Claire while Tim Hallett slipped into the nursing home to see what Slaton had been doing there. The whole time, he was on the phone trying to reach Helen Greene. Someone had to know what they had found out. If John Fusco wasn’t listening, maybe the sergeant would. She had impressed Darren with her patience and intelligence, and something told him she was more open-minded than most sergeants. He didn’t know what else to do.

  She finally picked up, and he smiled at her voice barking, “Greene.”

  Darren immediately said, “Sarge, it’s Darren Mori. I’m calling you on official business, sort of.”

  “I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with Tim Hallett’s wild theories. For the past hour I’ve been studying crime scene photos from the Ludner house and the cane field where we recovered Katie Ziegler just because Hallett’s gotten into my head. I like him, but there’s nothing else I can do for him. The captain is talking about putting him on leave pending a psychiatric exam.”

  “That’s going to make this request a little on the awkward side.”

  “Darren, what are you talking about?”

  Darren considered his position but trusted Helen Greene. “We’re on surveillance right now and could use some help.”

  “Surveillance of who?”

  “Bill Slaton.”

  There was a sickening silence from the other end of the phone. Then the sergeant’s voice cracked when she said, “The probation officer?”

  “All two hundred and thirty pounds of him.”

  “Are you saying Tim thinks he’s a suspect in the kidnappings?”

  “Now that you say it out loud it does sound kinda crazy, but when you see all the little pieces, it makes more sense. We’re on Military Trail north of Melaleuca heading south.”

  “You better give me a damn good reason not to shut this down right now.” Her tone left no doubt that she didn’t find this amusing.

  Darren didn’t hesitate to spend what little capital he had. “You told me when we found Tina Tictin’s body that you owed me. I’m taking you at your word and calling in your marker.” He saw Slaton turn right, then said into the phone quickly, “I
gotta go.” He gave her the radio channel they were working on and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. Darren just hoped she was as honorable as he thought she was.

  42

  The man in the first bed quickly waived Tim Hallett off to the man in the second bed. The elderly man had jaundiced eyes and said in a harsh voice, “You’re the guy who visits Ella, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You had a baby with a black woman that comes, too. I’ve seen him. He’s a cute little boy.”

  Hallett still wasn’t sure how to deal with old-school racism.

  Then the old man looked down at Rocky and said, “I don’t like dogs. You guys need to get lost. Ella’s down the hallway.”

  “I’m not here to see Ella tonight.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I’m a friend of Bill’s.”

  “You mean Junior? You just missed him.”

  “That’s too bad. You know where he was headed?”

  “That dickless wonder? No.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  The old man coughed violently, then wiped his mouth with a dirty napkin. “I know he blames me for his crap life, but people need to take responsibility for themselves.” His gauzy eyes focused on Hallett as best they could, and he said, “What about you? Do you like girls?”

  The old man wasn’t saying anything important to the case, but he was giving Hallett a vibe that made him believe even more that Slaton was their man. “Where was Bill going?”

  “To chase his dreams. That’s what he told me.”

  Hallett had a bad feeling. He nodded to the old man, then darted out of the room. By the time he hit the front door of the nursing home he was in a full sprint to his Tahoe. He grabbed the radio and shouted for someone to answer him and tell him where they were.

  Darren Mori came on and said, “We’re headed south on Military Trail.”

  Tim Hallett knew it was too risky to let Bill Slaton out of sight. It was too dangerous to risk him grabbing another girl while they tried to make a case. They needed to pull him over at their first opportunity. He’d make up the rest as they went along.

  * * *

  Rocky knew this place well. All of the smells and scents reminded him of the kind attention he had received here in the past. It also reminded him of the sorrow he sensed in the humans after some of the visits. These humans weren’t always the same ones when he returned. Usually Josh would be with them and they would visit one female. But tonight, it seemed like Tim wanted to go somewhere else in the big building.

  Rocky wished he could explore all the building, but he knew they were here for other reasons. He could sense an urgency in Tim. Most people here were lying down and were no threat, but Tim was still tense and hurried Rocky along.

  Finally, they came to a room and Tim started talking to a man lying down near the window. Rocky could easily tell that Tim didn’t like this man. But he was no threat. Rocky didn’t think he could even stand up.

  Tim took a moment to calm Rocky when he saw he was agitated. Rocky liked the feeling of Tim’s hand as it ran from the top of his head all the way down his body to his tail, and Tim spoke quietly to him. Rocky wasn’t even sure what the words meant, but he knew Tim wanted him quiet and still.

  Something inside Rocky told him that a game was on the way and he would be able to run. He needed to run right now. A good run, chasing bad guys.

  That’s what Rocky hoped would happen soon.

  * * *

  It was after eight thirty and completely dark outside as Junior stood patiently in the parking lot of the Publix. He had seen Michelle Swirsky come out to the parking lot twice, but never farther than a few rows of cars. He figured that since she had been on TV, this job felt boring to her. She thought she was better than this kind of labor and better than him. The whole idea that she could get on TV and brag about what she did to him stiffened his resolve.

  Bill Slaton had a hard time getting past the conversation with his father at the nursing home. Now, when he looked at Michelle, he saw Karen Olson’s face. How different would his life have been if he had acted quickly in the garage? Would it have been just one dead girl or would he still need to do the things he did? His father’s punishment didn’t help, of that he was certain.

  Michelle smiled at her customers; it looked fake, like she was practicing. He wondered if she wanted a career in broadcasting. The way she had talked about how she had escaped the kidnapper had captured everyone’s attention. She explained that her tae kwon do instructor, who had been on one of the newscasts with her, had shown her everything she had done. He was a big, goofy-looking guy who worked for the Palm Beach County School Board Police. He seemed to have a way with kids. All Junior had heard was how great Sensei Rick was.

  Now Bill Slaton Jr. noticed Michelle out in the parking lot retrieving empty carts instead of taking out an old person’s groceries. He had seen some of the bag boys come out and do it, pushing twenty or thirty carts at a time back to the store from the outer parking lot. It looked like Michelle preferred to do just a few at a time.

  He instantly realized this was his chance. If he was ever going to set things straight, he had to do it in the next few minutes. Each time she recovered carts, Michelle walked a few more rows out into the parking lot. For a girl who had been attacked recently she didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the area around her.

  Finally, she grabbed the cart just a few feet away from his vehicle. He called her by name. She looked up calmly, then froze; he knew she recognized him from their earlier encounter.

  He stood next to his car with his pistol held low at his waist and pointed right at her. He worked hard to keep his voice calm and steady when he said, “I’ll shoot you this time.”

  The girl shook her head nervously. She believed it.

  He motioned the girl to enter the Taurus on the driver’s side, then shoved her so she slipped into the passenger seat. He could tell she was so terrified she was confused, and that’s what made the moment electric. The way he felt now, he could conquer the world.

  He kept the gun pointed at her as he slid into the driver’s seat and picked up his blindfold with his left hand. “Slip this over your head.”

  Michelle let out a gasp and cried out, “Why are you doing this?”

  Junior loved it. Everything about this girl was exciting: the tears running down her cheeks, the way she was shaking like a cold Chihuahua, the quiver in her voice. She was shaking so badly she could hardly pull the homemade cloth blindfold onto her head.

  Junior enjoyed keeping his voice so steady. “Hold up your hands and put them together.” As soon as she lifted her hands, he wasted no time wrapping duct tape around them.

  Junior intended to make sure her precious Sensei Rick wasn’t going to be proud of what she did it tonight.

  * * *

  Hallett had listened to the surveillance and finally caught up with them headed south. Darren and Claire had stayed well back of Slaton driving his ratty old Ford Taurus and had lost him along the way. Right now Darren thought the Taurus turned into one of the shopping centers along the west side of the road.

  Hallett let his eyes search the traffic in front of him and in the parking lots along Military Trail, dangerously ignoring the cars close to him. Rocky sensed the tension and sat up in his compartment, panting directly against the metal door that faced forward.

  He slowed when he saw the brighter lights of a large shopping center and noticed the Publix grocery store that anchored it. Somewhere in a report he had read that Michelle Swirsky worked part-time at Publix. On a hunch he got on the radio as he turned into the shopping center.

  Hallett said, “I’m searching the parking lot of the Publix. Is anyone available to go inside and check with the manager real quick? I think this is the Publix where Michelle Swirsky works.”

  Claire acknowledged him as she parked her Tahoe directly in front of the building. They were starting to veer off the original mission of finding B
ill Slaton, but just the idea that Slaton was in the same area as his last victim worried him.

  As he made a quick pass through the lot he still didn’t see the Taurus.

  * * *

  Bill Slaton Jr. already felt some relief. That nagging feeling of unfinished business had vanished like a Budweiser at a Toby Keith concert. He felt powerful. Michelle was securely restrained and crouched down in the passenger seat of his car. She put up a brave fight to hold back the tears, but it only made her seem that much more vulnerable.

  Junior enjoyed glancing over at Michelle as she sat perfectly still, sitting low in the seat the way he had told her to. Maybe she was a replacement for Karen Olson or some other woman who had screwed up his life. Women never knew how much influence they had with their little comments or silly laughter. This was one way to show them.

  He hadn’t realized how much the visit with his father had affected him. He needed to prove he was a man. Just hearing his father call him a dickless wonder made him want to go out and find five girls like Michelle. He’d always thought the insult was related to his lack of athletic ability until he recalled his father’s “treatment.”

  The traffic was light, and he could just see a hint of the rising moon. He knew he had to act quickly. The managers at Publix would notice one of their employees missing, and after Michelle’s notoriety on TV, no one would take any chances. He knew an abandoned gas station that had an office behind it. One of his probationers had found a way in and was living in the empty office. It was easier for Slaton to ignore the minor trespassing than to find housing for the homeless probationer.

  He stole another glance at his prey as she sat silently. The blindfold left her nose and mouth exposed, and he pictured her beautiful smile.

  He wished he could bottle this feeling.

  * * *

  Claire hustled through the automatic doors of the Publix, still dressed in her uniform with a, long-sleeve black T-shirt that said PBSO K-9 on the right sleeve and a black tactical vest. The combat boots she wore boosted her height to a total of five foot six. She had to look up almost a foot to the lanky manager behind the customer service counter.