by Sara York
Randall blew out a breath, and Tony could hear the crinkling noise of paper shuffling on the other end of the line. The chief had shifted focus. Relief pulsed through Tony, now he would be left to work the case instead of playing games with the politicians and reporters.
“Santos, I don’t even want this talked about within the department. Until we have a basic profile built up, I don’t want the guys down in traffic, or anyone else in the department to know what happened.” Randall’s voice had lowered to a less threatening level.
“Yes sir,” Tony replied, not wanting Randall to hang-up with a negative image of the encounter.
Gossip wormed its way through the ranks on the force, making hush-hush whispers the norm in the locker room. Tony could guess that by the end of the day all of the officers would know about Angela Longfellow’s hands being sliced off, but he would do his best to warn and threaten the hell out of everyone on this case to keep their mouth shut.
Before Randall disconnected he cautioned, “No name to the press either. I don’t care if they throw ten amendments at us and threaten to go to a judge. Don’t give them anything until we’ve sat on it for twenty-four hours.”
“Any reason?”
“Heck, yes. I have my reasons and I’ll discuss them at our meeting. Have your team assembled back at headquarters by four-thirty. Do you think you can manage that?”
****
The hair on the back of Tony’s neck prickled against his shirt collar. He clenched his fist and held his breath to keep from blurting out what he really wanted to say. There was enough stress in the department with the extra holiday traffic. Vacationers, here for the beach, would learn of this murder. It was bad for the tourist business. And Juniper, Texas was all about attracting the tourist trade. Tony responded the only way he could, “Yes sir.” He flipped his phone closed, popped his neck, and let his eyes roam the room.
Tension draped every area of the apartment. How soon would his team start to drag from the stress of this murder? Tony’s heartbeat returned to normal. His first argument with the chief about this case was over. He knew from experience that murders brought out the worst in the chief. Now he needed to do as much damage control as he could before Randall got antsy and started going to the individual contributors of his team.
“You know when I want the reports, Sekorski?”
“Yeah, I know. Give me forty-eight.”
“Forty-eight? Randall will want them in twelve. How about we compromise and you get them in twenty-four?”
“Right,” the seasoned medical examiner grumbled as he pulled off his rubber gloves.
On his way out, Sekorski stopped at the doorway. “Don’t forget to leave the booties in the box by the front door. We can’t do our magic if we don’t have all of the evidence.”
Tony waved him off, moving his focus to the team of two assembled in front of him. Why hadn’t he sent Janice to the criminal profiling class in Quantico last year? Rex was a great detective, despite his immature attitude about some things, but Janice had a knack for getting inside the criminal’s mind, working out motive before the rest of the team finished with their first round of coffee.
Pulling the thick drapes aside, Tony searched for Michael Rains. The guy was a great crime scene technician, but damn it, he needed a new watch, one that shouted ‘get your butt in gear’.
“We have about two minutes to come up with a suspect before the press starts asking questions, about four minutes before the chief asks again, and about thirty minutes before the Mayor sticks his nose up our shorts. Randall has already called me, and you can probably figure out that we’ll be living out of headquarters for the next few days. Where the hell is Rains?”
Rex and Janice grumbled, mirroring Tony’s feelings, but no one commented on Rains not showing up. Janice went to work with her camera, getting a few final shots before they closed the apartment.
The front door banged open and slammed shut. Tony whirled around, ready to scream at the offender.
“Hey, I got your call. Wow, I haven’t seen one this bad in a while. Damn, he did that to both hands?” Michael Rains said as he slipped booties over his shoes. “We won’t be getting any trace from under the fingernails. If she did scratch him, we’ll never know it.”
“So our suspect may or may not have scratches.” Rex turned and looked around the room. “This place is too clean. Did you notice there’s no dust? And where are her sheets?”
“Maybe she was doing laundry,” Michael suggested as he pulled out his high-powered, multi-colored flash light kit.
“Hey Janice, you’re a girl, do you dust often?” Rex quipped.
Janice closed her eyes and Tony could see her lips move as she counted backwards from ten. Her eyes opened and the fire of her anger was still there. “Rex, just because you’re a Neanderthal doesn’t mean the rest of the world isn’t neat. Of course I dust.”
“You wanna come to my place and do the same for me?” Rex chuckled.
“Tony, I’m going to go take shots outside,” Janice said as she moved from the bedroom.
“That’s fine. We need to find her car too. See if it’s been cleaned out.”
“Sure, after I get a few shots.” Janice smiled at Tony then stuck her tongue out at Rex’s back. Tony ignored their behavior and let his eyes sweep the room. What else was missing? The pillows?
“Michael, you’re late. Don’t do it again.” Tony’s eyes bore into Michael’s. He couldn’t afford to coddle one of his key team members. Either Rains got his act together or Tony would have to request his transfer. “After you finish up in here, I want you and Rex to go door-to-door. Question everybody in the apartment complex. Go back as far as last Saturday. Sekorski thinks she was murdered yesterday, but we don’t know for sure.” Tony did another quick visual sweep of the apartment. “How the hell did this guy get out of here without being noticed?”
“I’m surprised no one heard anything,” Rex said.
“No roommate, and with the college closed, who would hear anything?” Janice answered, poking her head around the corner.
“I need to find the manager, see if anyone moved out recently.” Tony pulled out his notebook and made a few markings, mostly detailing the body.
The blood was minimal, which meant her hands were cut off post mortem. The bruises on her inner thigh indicated she had probably been raped. Her shoulders carried bruises, almost like hands forcing her from above. Forced oral sex? That was a dangerous position for the suspect to be in. What if she bit? Tony cringed and resisted the urge to cross his legs. He forced his mind away from thoughts of pain and turned his attention back to the apartment. The way too clean apartment.
****
If the killer had taken the time to dust, what did that say about this crime and the criminal? Was the suspect so arrogant he believed no one would walk in on him, or had Angela dusted earlier in the day and the clean apartment had nothing to do with the killer? Tony mulled over the information, letting the facts settle into his consciousness and wrap its tentacles around his brain. “I wonder how many close friends Angela had in Juniper.”
“Do you want me to search for a set of sheets?” Michael asked as he put away his equipment. “It’s clean here, I’m done.”
“Sure, this complex has a laundry room.” Tony pulled off the latex gloves, glad to set his hands free from the sweat producers. He carefully removed the bags on his shoes at the front door, slipping them into the box Sekorski had left.
He hated this part of the investigation. There was too much information, but it was all uncollected and unaccounted for. Everything to solve the crime was here, within his grasp, but nothing stuck out. The killer hadn’t left a sign behind that said ‘I did it.’ Somewhere in this apartment, or on the ground in the parking lot, was a telling fiber or strand of hair with the follicle still attached. Now all Tony and his team had to do was find it.
Chapter 4
The south Texas heat gripped Tony, forcing its imprint on his skin, leaving a trail of sweat do
wn his back. At the pool, that’s where he wanted to be. He wanted to be at the pool with Marissa, drinking an ice-cold beer while he listened to his wife talk about her day.
It was the little things he missed the most. Like the way she would tilt her head and listen to him talk about his current case. Marissa would’ve hated this case, but she would have listened quietly as he spoke about the different aspects.
Tony’s mind ticked through the elements they had discovered so far. This murder was big time. Juniper’s typical murder case was between friends who had drunk too much, or a husband tired of his wife’s cheating ways, or the wife sick of the husband stepping out one too many times. That last thought stuck with him. Damn, he had been a stupid prick, and he didn’t know how to make it right.
He needed to stay focused on the case if he wanted it solved quickly. They needed a list of Angela’s friends and boyfriends, places where she hung out and the people she hung with. Moving towards the front of the complex, he rounded the building and ran into Officer Sally Gerrig. His chest tightened and his stomach turned over before sinking.
“Gerrig, don’t let anybody into the apartment, even other uniforms. The only people authorized inside this unit are Hague, Rains, Owens and myself. And no rookies who don’t know what to do with the press,” Tony barked.
He paused. He’d done it again. He turned back to Sally, ready to apologize and found her standing with her hand on her hip. An angry smirk masked her face.
“What about Sekorski?”
Tony glanced around the area, making sure no one else was within earshot. “Sally, I’m sorry but you have—”
“I don't know why you have it out for me. But I'm not quitting the force. I'm a good cop.” Sally’s voice rose in pitch.
Tony ground his teeth, holding back the accusations he wanted to let loose. “I’m not going to place any blame, but...” Tony stopped, weighing his words before he made another mistake. She’d sent those damn letters and pictures. He wanted to point that out to her, but starting the argument wouldn’t benefit either of them. He hadn’t gone to internal affairs, that had been his big mistake, and now he would have to handle the situation carefully.
“Listen, we have to work together, and if you want to advance to detective then you’re just going to—What? Don’t look at me like that.”
He realized too late that he was being condescending again. Sally brought out the worst in him. The first note from her should have gone to personnel, but it hadn’t. Instead, he let his bruised ego play her game. Games sucked. And he knew it. Now he was paying for his mistake.
“Excuse me? I’m going to have to get past it? Past what? You need to stop discriminating against me. Like I said, I'm here to stay.” Sally’s steady stare pricked at Tony’s ego.
“Damn it, Gerrig—”
She held up her hand. The intense expression on her face put a halt to his words, “A news van just pulled up. Do you really want us arguing on tape?”
“Fine, just keep the riffraff out.”
“Got it.”
Tony shook off the uncomfortable feeling Gerrig left him with and headed over to speak to the manager.
The man behind the desk was short and dumpy, dressed in a pair of wrinkled khaki shorts and a grease-stained undershirt that did little to hide his rounded beer belly. Ms. Lucy, the manager from when Tony lived here, was gone and it looked like she’d taken all the class she’d brought with her.
The apartment office was small and dirty, much worse than the last time he’d been here. The scent of soured food in desperate need of a trash dump assaulted his senses. Stacks of paperwork were strewn around the room, giving it a just exploded look. Heat filled the small space, leaving Tony wishing he were still outside. This guy, although sleazy looking, couldn’t have pulled off the murder in the apartment down the breezeway. His trash would have followed him there, and the stench would have settled in Angela’s apartment, making it smell worse than it already did.
“Excuse me,” Tony said as he stepped up to the desk. “Are you the manager?”
“Sure, I’m the manager. Jack’s my name. You a cop?” Jack’s gap toothed grin covered the lower third of his face, making him appear clownish instead of friendly. A waft of whisky drifted off of Jack as he spoke.
“I’m Detective Tony Santos. Were you here, in the office last night?”
“Is that when you think he killed her? I mean, you think she died? You know, her apartment was cold. It was like an arctic blast when I cracked the door open to have a look see. Didn’t like the smell so I didn’t go in. I heard once that a body can last really long in the cold. You sure she wasn’t done in last week? There was a real shady character here on Thursday—or was it Wednesday?” Jack squeezed his eyes almost closed as he picked at his front tooth with a black-rimmed fingernail.
Tony inspected the man. Was he letting his prejudice rule this guy out, or were the key indicators of a rapist and murder present in this man? Violence could be brought out in the best of people, but it took a special type of killer to do what had been done to Angela Longfellow.
How many slack-jawed yokels knew that epithelial cells hid under fingernails? Even when the suspect used a pick to pull out most of the tissue, the victim usually dug down so hard that the suspect’s skin cells pushed way back to where the finger met the nail. No, Tony was sure of it, their suspect was educated, not a half drunk, disorganized shell of a man, but a person who dealt in power.
“Jack, can you give a description of the shady character?”
“Uh, I don’t recall what he looked like. Could have been the mail delivery guy. He’s a strange one, always curls his nose up when he comes in here, like this place ain’t good ‘nuf for him.”
“If you remember anything about the person who was here last week please call the station and they’ll draw up a profile. You didn’t answer my question,” Tony said tolerantly, not believing Jack had seen a mysterious person. He didn’t want to be patient with this guy. Anger still slid through his veins. His run-in with Sally affected him more than he wanted to admit.
“What question was that?”
“Were you here yesterday?” Tony asked again, purposely keeping his voice low and even.
“Hmmm, no I was at my lady friend’s house. She kept me a’busy all weekend long, know what I mean?” The manager laughed a bawdy cackle. His mouth hung open, revealing his half rotten teeth. Tony’s stomach turned at the mental images of Jack the manager with his lady friend.
“Thank you, Jack.” Tony stared at the mess surrounding him. He hated asking but there was no way he could get around it, procedure called for him to investigate this man because he had access to the victim’s apartment. “Could you supply me with her name and number? I need to confirm your story.”
“Cool, I’m a suspected person in a murder case. Do ya need to take me downtown for questioning? Cause it will only take a minute to tidy up here ‘fore I lock up.”
“No, that’s not necessary.” Tony wanted to groan out loud. There was no way this knuckle dragger could be the killer. He didn’t have the discipline needed for such a clean operation.
A knock sounded on the door behind Tony. He turned and saw Michael Rains peeking through the opening.
“Detective Santos, I found the laundry room. I thought you might want to see.”
“Thank you, Officer Rains.” Tony turned back to the manager, glad to have an excuse to leave, “I’ll be in contact with you if I have more questions.”
“Sure, anytime, day or night. You need something, just call good ’ole Jack.”
Tony followed Michael down the walkway to the back of the complex. The door to the laundry room was only twenty feet away from Ms. Longfellow’s apartment and a row of full bushes hid the entrance from the parking lot.
Tony stepped through the doorway and found that, unlike the manager’s office, this room was clean, almost too clean. The dust that normally filled a room full of lint spewing dryers had been wiped from every surfa
ce. Someone had taken a lot of time to clean the laundry room. Who would go to such lengths?
“Rains, get Officer Owens in here and check this room for prints.”
“Yes sir.”
****
From across the street he could see the beads of sweat dotting the face of Detective Tony Santos. Hours had been spent processing the scene. Most of the police officers were gone, only a few stragglers milled around the apartment parking lot. He almost giggled like a little girl when Santos rubbed his face with one broad palm. The stress was already showing, just as he hoped it would.
The police officers were like little children on a treasure hunt. The only problem was he had left no treasure behind for them to collect. They would go home unfulfilled, with empty evidence bags and no leads.
A gush of power surged up his torso, causing his throat to constrict. His taste buds tingled and his head buzzed. Power tasted so sweet on his tongue. The knowledge that he was besting Tony Santos was an elixir, the most powerful taste in the universe. Few ever experienced the wonderfully sweet taste of power that he had. He was one of the lucky ones. One of the few to actually take action on a plan that was so thorough, so well thought out and follow through to the point of causing the one thing he wished for more than anything else in the whole world.
The man laughed out loud as he watched Detective Tony Santos talk to one of the officers. He knew what Santos would do next. It was simple and predictable. First the great detective would pull together a team of officers and focus on the evidence. A loud snort echoed through his car. Tony and his police officers could search the scene all day long, but they wouldn’t find anything because he hadn’t left any evidence. Well, he had left one small thing.
This time the laughs came so hard tears trailed down his face. The puppet master was at work and Santos couldn’t do anything to save himself.
