stepped. She peered down at the victim and shook her head. “What’ve we got?”
“Looks like she was cracked over the head with that
bronze statue thing over there by her foot. Must’ve beaten up on
her first and then hit her with the death blow. That’s why all the
blood.”
The victim was nude, her legs spread open. The word
“whore” was crudely carved into her forehead. Her face was
nearly pulp and the sightless eyes revealed nothing. Electrical
tape covered her mouth and was wrapped around her head. Her
ruthlessly bruised torso testified to the fact that she had lived to
feel the pain.
“Whoa, baby!” Will whistled. “She must’ve pissed
someone off real good.”
Karen shook her head and told him to get on with it. “She’s, uh, rather a model. From the looks of the
apartment, a successful one, or over-extended on the credit
cards.” He smiled at his assessment. “Twenty-five years old.
Wallet’s here, has plenty of money and cards. Doesn’t appear to
be a robbery. Strictly murder here.”
Detective Frank Garcia came over to them. He looked
otherworldly in his sterile gear, padding around in his paper
booties. He half-grimaced when he looked down at the body. “She threw up?” Karen asked.
“Nope. Not her vomit. One of the neighbors passed by
and peeked in early this morning. Decided to investigate on his
own and left his breakfast. Lucky us. He’s the one who called it
in.”
“Goddamn. I knew some idiot was gonna fuck the scene
up.” Will grumbled.
“Yeah. The uniforms told him to stick to his apartment
until someone from the team talks to him. I got my pictures
taken, but it’ll be another couple of hours before I get out of
here.”
Garcia moved on to the tedious process of collecting and
bagging any and every thing that might be of relevance, never
knowing what might be useful. He would leave not one inch of the apartment unrecorded. Every corner of the room would be swept on the chance it might expose some speck of evidence. The crumpled body now belonged to the medical examiner who,
according to Garcia, was on his way.
Karen closed her eyes and tried to recreate the chaos of
the dead woman’s last night, but Will broke her concentration. “There had to be some serious noise from this apartment,
unless he taped her before he beat her. I’ve got a team on the
way to scout the building and see what the residents have to say
about last night. You’d think she coulda got off a couple of
screams or something.”
Karen nodded. As usual, her jaw was locked and
breathing was difficult. She couldn’t remember a murder scene
that had not affected her in this way. She turned her face away
from the body in an attempt to still her nerves.
“I suppose someone ought to have heard something.
Why don’t we talk to the good Samaritan with the bad stomach
who found her,” she said, already half way to the door. “Okay,” Will nodded and followed.
They walked down the hall side by each, heads bent. The building had been recently remodeled and was clean enough and ever-so-deco, but the hallway was dark and airless. The queasy neighbor’s doorway was a sight. The tenants, clearly not fans of understatement, had decorated the door with sprays of rainbows and scripted in calligraphy was the sentiment Every Day is Rainbows in 3-B. The detectives conspicuously ignored one another.
Will banged on the door and called out “Police!” The door cracked slowly open, the safety chain still latched, and the still-pale and slightly green neighbor looked out.
“May I see some identification?” Will rolled his eyes and pulled out his badge. “You gonna wanna see my partner’s ID too, or what?”
With a self-conscious giggle and a quick stripping of the chain, the door opened wide. “Sorry. I’m pretty rattled about, you know, what happened. I didn’t mean to give you a hard time. I am just feeling so oh-my-god about this, this, oh my god!” He gave a quick shake of his head, reminiscent of a dog after a bath, and invited the detectives in. Offering a nervous half-smile, he held his hand out toward Karen. “I’m Rafe Strickland.”
She shook his hand. “Detective Brandt.”
Will, hands homophobically tucked deep in his pockets, nodded at the witness. “Detective Kaufman.” A little smirk, and then, “You’re looking a little rough around the edges, guy.”
Strickland was handsome. Karen figured he was probably a model, like the dead girl. His hair was light brown with just the right touch of blonde highlights. The style was hip, short and spiky. Sea-blue eyes. His tight, sculpted body was a tribute to many hours in one of South Beach’s famous gyms. Every muscle was cut, and his short tank top left little to the imagination. His shorts revealed perfect legs.
The apartment was larger than Jessica Benson’s, not a studio. An ornate gray sofa was shadowed by an arc lamp of chrome. A slab of white marble served as a coffee table and two majestic gray and white brocade chairs completed the conversation square. Karen made herself comfortable in one of the chairs, but Will remained standing.
“So what do you think Mr. Strickland? Can you keep your food down long enough to answer a few questions?” Will asked.
“Hey detective, I’m so sorry about that. God, I, uh, can’t believe this is happening.” He gulped a quick breath and gushed on. “I was going out for my run. Sometimes Jessie’s just getting home when I leave and occasionally, when she’s sober, she runs with me in the mornings. So when I saw her door cracked open I went in for a look-see, and well, whoops! I just lost it. The smell. And the way she looked. Oh, her magnificent face…mush.” He grabbed for another breath and continued. “Well, I had just finished eating—I, um, I eat before I run—most people wait till after, but I need my carbs, and—”
“I’m sure you’re not used to starting your day with a visit to a murder scene,” Karen prompted. Anything to get him on task, she thought.
“Yeah, that’s for sure.” He flashed the half-smile again. “I usually don’t spend any part of my day around dead bodies. I mean, that is so for sure!”
“I understand, Mr. Strickland. It’s necessary that we ask you a few questions, but we’ll try to be gentle.”
He gave her a brief, grateful nod and said, “Please, call me Rafe.”
“Okay, Rafe. You mentioned that Jessica often came home in the early morning hours. So, were you pretty close friends with her?”
“I guess. She blew hot and cold, you know? We did an occasional shoot together. We’re both models. Actually, this building is like a dormitory for industry people. Both in front of the camera and behind the scenes.” He hesitated.
“Go ahead,” Karen prompted. “Tell us whatever you know, please. Sometimes even though you think it’s nothing, it could be a key piece of evidence.”
“All right then, although I hate to speak ill of the dead.” He gave her a conspiratorial nod, and went on. “She was really beautiful and when she turned on the charm she was irresistible, um, not just as a sexual creature, you know, but as a person.
“But, oh my! Jessie was a real party girl. I don’t mean like a prostitute or anything, you know, but she didn’t spend many nights home alone. Know what I’m saying?
“Anyway, when she started seeing Kyle I really saw a change in her, for a while, sort of. He was different from her other boyfriends.” He looked up at Karen and gave her a sad smile.
“Funny thing, when you hear about athletes in the news, they’re always wild, always doing something illegal or crazy. Not Kyle though. Uh uh. He was such a calming influence on Jess, when
they first started going out, at least. But I guess a leopard doesn’t change her spots that easily. After a couple of months she started running around on him. God, I can’t believe she’s gone!”
“So this Kyle she was seeing, he’s an athlete?”
“A football player, you know, Kyle Sands, the quarterback for the Demons.”
Karen felt her breath catch. Will asked if she was okay. It took her a second, but she nodded, convincingly, she hoped.
“Well, really, Jessie was known for losing interest in guys real easy. She never stayed with anyone for the distance. Huh! With Kyle being on the road so often, she literally had her cake and was eating it too, if you get my drift. My partner and I always talked about how awful it was. You’d have to be out of your mind to cheat on a hunk like Kyle Sands!”
Will smirked and asked, “Your partner? Business?” He knew exactly what kind of a partner Rafe Strickland was referring to.
“Oh, Lord, no! My life partner. I’m gay.” He beamed.
“Who’da thunk it?” Will snorted. “Does your life partner have a name, or what?”
“Of course he does! Ron Juneau.”
Karen could feel her face burning, but knew she had to break out of her haze.
“Um, Rafe,” she fumbled, “do you know whether Kyle Sands knew about Jessica’s, uh, indiscretions?” Kyle Sands. She noticed that Will had stopped scribbling into his notebook and was staring at her. I’ve got to keep myself together, she thought.
“Are you kidding? She made it clear that we had to keep mum on that story. She would have killed us if we—oh, man—I didn’t mean kill.” Shaking his head as though disengaging his mind from his mouth, he stared at the detectives for a long moment. Finally, as though a decision had been reluctantly made, he continued.
“Kyle really cared about Jessie, you know? You could tell from his body language and the way he looked at her, at least early on when they first started dating. He is so awesome…”
Rafe put his hand to his mouth and looked at Will, who was glaring. “Sorry. Too much information, huh?”
Will could have burnt a hole through the man’s forehead with the fire in his eyes. Rafe recognized the danger, cleared his throat and went on.
“But the last couple of times I saw them together, I felt like he was getting to know her a little better—good for him, not so good for her.
“Kyle even got a little tense and snapped at her once or twice. Ron and I were thinking that maybe he’d found out about her extracurricular activities. I mean, just because we kept our mouths zipped didn’t mean the rest of the world wasn’t going to tattle. And Kyle was, uh, is, anything but a dumb jock.” He shook his head again and gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I don’t guess a compliment can get more back-handed than that, hmmm? The bottom line, according to Jess, was that he looked great and…” he cleared is throat again, “these are her words, not mine, fucked like a god but he should have been an accountant because he was just so damned dull, boring. Like I said, those were her words only. We thought he was phenomenal!” He cocked his head and continued, “Too bad he’s straight…”
Karen tried to smile. “So you’re saying she stayed with him because of the sex?” Her brain hurt.
“Well, this is really kind of embarrassing, but yeah, that’s pretty much it. Sex, and of course, he took her out pretty nice.” Rafe stared at the floor, examining his spotless silver plush carpeting.
“Sure,” Will spat. “Nothing about murder is easy to discuss, but we need to get this over with already.”
“I understand, detective. You know, I read a lot of crime novels myself, so I feel as though I’m fairly conversant with the procedure here.”
“Terrific.” Will rolled his eyes.
“Oh, you know, fiction only! But these days the authors are so into realism. I mean, in the books I read, anyway.”
“So, okay, then. I think we have a fairly good picture of the situation between them.” Karen wanted out of there, feeling desperate for a moment to herself. “Is there anything else?”
“Well, the reason Jessie felt she could keep Kyle and juggle other guys was football.” Sensing that Karen was somehow off, Will asked, “How’s that?”
“Because of football, Kyle was out of town every other week or so. Jessica used to make a joke about how she never had to worry about him coming home early and catching her in the sack with anyone. She had him right there in her television where she could watch him.
“Pretty ironic, uh? Jess played her home games while Kyle was playing his away games.” He giggled yet again.
“Did you meet any of the guys she was dating while she was going with Kyle?” Karen asked.
“No, she was pretty secretive about them. Guess she was covering her butt, you know, like we couldn’t tell what we didn’t know.”
This is not happening, Karen thought. The Kyle Sands I knew is no murderer.
“What about your partner? Is he around? We’re gonna need to talk to him too.”
“Oh, sure, I understand. But he’s at a seminar in New York. Ron works for Chanel at Neiman Marcus. He’s a make-up artist.”
“Mmph. Yeah, okay,” Will said, squirming as though he’d swallowed live worms. “When did he leave town?”
“Thursday. He’ll be back tomorrow night though.” He scrunched his eyebrows and then suddenly his mouth dropped open in shock. “You weren’t thinking about Ron as a suspect were you? Oh God! You’re looking for some kind of a monster! My Ron wouldn’t hurt a fly. Anyway, like I said, he left Thursday. He’s staying at the Lowell. You can check it out if you don’t believe me.”
Karen couldn’t take Strickland’s babbling any longer. She stood and started for the door. Will handed his card to him and said to call if he thought of anything else.
Down the hall Rojas still stood guard outside Jessica Benson’s apartment. Will looked in and exchanged a few words with Frank Garcia.
“Nothing new,” he said to Karen. “Let’s boogie.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I n the car, Will looked over at his partner of eight years. She was too quiet. It was obvious something was wrong, but he couldn’t get her to talk about what was bothering her. To him, she was beautiful in every sense. When they had first partnered up years ago, he had become deeply infatuated. She was pure energy, always with a new angle or piece of the puzzle no one else was able to find. Today her dark mane of hair was, as usual, pulled carelessly back with stray wisps haphazardly framing her face. Yet there was something in her eyes that unsettled him. Anything that bothered Karen, bothered him.
Eventually he had fallen in love with her and come too close to confessing his feelings. It had been at his lowest point, shortly after his marriage slipped onto the rocks some five years ago. Margaret, his wife, had run off with another man and the divorce was ugly. He’d grown bitter and was drinking out of control. Every night after work he’d shown up at Karen’s place with a case of beer and a bad attitude. She listened to his sad songs and when he was too drunk to drive home, she would set him up on her sofa for the night.
One particularly long evening when he might have been more sober than he let on, he realized Karen’s cheeks were streaked with tears. His life was in the crapper and she was crying. She had reached out and touched his arm, telling him how special she thought he was. Will had taken her hand and kissed it gently. He looked at her too-serious face and spoke her name. She stared intently into his eyes and gently kissed him on his forehead. But as he moved responsively toward her, she tightened up. Pulling slightly away from him she whispered, very, very softly, “No.”
The opportunity had never again presented itself, and eventually he moved on to a slew of nameless, faceless women. But he never remarried, and Karen had never left his thoughts.
He finally spoke up. “I’m thinking the quarterback looks pretty good for it. Too bad. He’s having a great season. I hate like hell to bust up the chemistry of the Demons.” He chuckled. “What d’ya think, K.B.? Could it
be that easy?”
“Oh sure. We’ll just pick him up, he’ll confess, and then we’re off to a celebratory dinner at Joe’s Stone Crab and a good night’s sleep. It’s never that easy Will.” She flashed a humorless smile.
They both knew the circus this slaying was on its way to becoming. The repercussions from the O.J. Simpson case shadowed all police investigations, and they’d be working under a microscope on this one. The public would scrutinize every move within the Department and the media people would be partying. Forget Homeland Security and terrorism… this case was HUGE.
“If Sands is the dirt bag who did this, you can bet the evidence’ll be wrapped and bound in hermetically sealed containers. I’ll make sure myself that there are no loopholes for him to escape through.” Will pursed his lips and looked toward Karen for her endorsement.
She nodded slowly and said, “No bloody gloves here.”
CHAPTER FIVE
K aren slammed her locker door shut and leaned her head on it. It was the first moment she had to herself since learning of Kyle Sands’ suspected involvement in the Benson murder. She was desperate for some space to sort her emotions, but there was no way she could break away from the station now. She walked over to the sink and splashed her face with cold water. Will had already picked up on her distress, but she was determined that he remain ignorant about the reason for it.
Once back in the squad room, she was relieved to see that Will was working with Detective Bill Benjamin and his partner, Detective Tom Grant, on the timeline of Jessica Benson’s last day on earth. They claimed the highest solve rate in the unit and made very few mistakes.
Through reports from the field they were able to determine that Jessica was with Kyle at a party they had vacated fairly early in the evening. It was also clear that the football player’s attitude and behavior that night were ugly. Although he had been scarce most of the evening, he had appeared morose and made a scene when he found Jessica dancing with another man. He had apparently assaulted the dance partner, knocking him out cold. Like a caveman, most witnesses agreed, he grabbed her and left the party.
The Mystery of Jessica Benson Page 3
