Don't Say a Word

by Beverly Barton

  “Anybody else at home when the murder occurred?”

  Will shook his head. “Not unless they took off. We can’t do much out here until the medical examiner shows up and releases the body. How about we go find out exactly what that maid knows?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Will walked alongside Julia Cass, already fairly certain that she knew precisely what she was doing, would do it well, and by the book. He was curious to see how it would be working with her. She was thirty-four, if he remembered right from J.D.’s account, and young, beautiful—hell, she looked more like a model or an actress than a cop. He just hoped she was as good as her first impression made her out to be. He had a gut feeling that this was going to be a bad one. He was going to need all the input he could get. From Julia Cass and everybody else involved in the investigation.

  “Have you handled many homicide cases?” Will asked Julia.

  “I worked homicide in Nashville for ten years. I’ve seen a lot of terrible things.”

  “This terrible?”

  “No. Not a severed tongue. That tells me this guy is sick, seriously disturbed, or somebody with a tongue fetish.”

  “Probably all three.” Will hesitated. “I’ve had some training in profiling at Quantico. Serial killers, mainly.”

  “If you’re thinking this is the work of a serial, I agree. I hope we’re both wrong.”

  “It could be simply a grudge thing. Lockhart was a judge. Judges tend to irritate people.”

  “From what I’ve heard, the victim hasn’t always played by the rules.”

  “Yeah? Who told you that?”

  “Chief Mullins. And J.D., too. I remember him being ticked off by a case he was involved in. Said the judge was entirely pro-defense and didn’t make any bones about it. Pretty much ignored the facts and let the guy go.”

  “We’ll have to check out his cases. See if we can find any threats against him. Hopefully the maid will be able to tell us if he’s gotten any intimidating calls or disturbances here at the house. Maids usually know everything going on in a household.”

  “You that familiar with maids?”

  “No, but I know people who are, and treat them like members of the family. She’ll know a lot about this family; trust me on that.”

  Walking along the curving flagstone path, they turned around when they heard the TBI forensic technicians out of Knoxville round the far end of the gallery. There were three men and two women, all dressed in white jumpsuits. Will knew most of them by name and waved them toward the porch where the body was, but he kept walking, wanting to interview the maid sooner rather than later. The CPD officers indicated that she had been hysterical from the moment they arrived on the scene, and they hadn’t been able to get much out of her. From his experience, that was probably for the better. He and Julia were experienced interrogators. And this would give Will an opportunity to check out Julia’s skills right off the bat. He hoped for the best, but he was still in charge. Julia was used to being lead investigator herself, but she was backing off and letting him give the orders, at least so far. He appreciated that.

  The maid’s quarters were located at the far end of the swimming pool enclosure. It looked very nice, like a small English cottage with fragrant yellow roses growing up a trellis beside the front door. Everything was neat and clean, the walk swept, and lots of pots of purple and white petunias. One large Boston fern hung on a lantern hook beside the front door. The door stood wide, and Will could see through the screen that the maid was sitting in a blue recliner in the living room. She was clutching a little boy who appeared to be around three or four years old. The woman looked as though she’d never let go of the child again.

  “Hello,” Julia said to her through the screen door. “May we come in, Ms. Bota?”

  The maid didn’t say anything but she nodded. Julia opened the screen door and went inside. Will followed. If Julia wanted to take the lead in questioning, that was fine by him. If he had to jump in, he would. It would give him time to watch Maria Bota’s body language and see if she was telling the truth.

  “She looks scared, Brannock, real shaky,” Julia said, lowering her voice. “How about letting me talk to her, woman to woman?”

  Will nodded, and they both approached the frightened mother and child.

  “You are Ms. Bota, right?” Julia asked the girl. Her voice was calm and soothing. “My name is Julia Cass. I’m a detective with the Chattanooga Police Department. This is my colleague, Special Agent Will Brannock with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. We’re here to find out who killed your employer. We’re going to need to talk to you about what you saw.”

  Maria Bota was an attractive girl. Will estimated her age to be about nineteen or twenty, twenty-one tops. She had very black eyes, now red and puffy and swollen with tears. Her hair was even darker, tied back in a long, straight ponytail. She looked terrified. He waited while Julia knelt in front of the trembling young woman.

  “We just want to ask you a few questions. Please understand, there’s nothing for you to be afraid of. We’re only here to help you. Okay?”

  Maria nodded but held herself as stiff as a board. The child had his head on her shoulder, but he peeked out at Julia from under his cupped hand.

  “What a beautiful little boy,” Julia said in that same low, comforting voice. “What’s his name?”

  Maria’s shoulders relaxed a little bit and she spoke in heavily accented English. “Julio. He’s three.”

  Julia smiled at him, lightly touching his back with her fingers. “Hola, Julio. My name’s Julia.”

  “Hola,” he mumbled into his mama’s shoulder.

  “May we sit down, Ms. Bota?”

  Maria Bota nodded. Will sat down in an old, light green velour Queen Anne chair, and Julia took a place on a white slipcovered couch near the woman and child.

  Will said, “I know this has been a hard time for you, Ms. Bota. Thank you for talking with us.”

  The maid nodded again. Julia looked at Will, waiting for his lead. He gave it, nodding for her to take over.

  “The officer outside told us that you found Judge Lockhart’s body. Is that right?”

  Maria began to shake, enough for them to notice and for the baby to raise his head and look at his mama’s face. He puckered up. Julia laid her palm over the distraught woman’s hand. “It’s okay. But we really need for you to tell us what you saw this morning. It’s very important that you tell us everything.”

  Maria looked down and hugged her child closer. “I fix his breakfast, like I do every day. He leave his order on the kitchen counter for me every night. He get up real early. Five o’clock, sometimes even before sun come up. He take swim, then he dress and go to work.”

  “Was he up early this morning? Did you see him?”

  Will watched Julia, garnering more respect for her ability. She was leaning forward, interested and calm, but completely nonthreatening. She was asking the right questions. Maria was responding to her. Julia Cass was going to turn out to be a big help to him.

  “Yes, ma’am. I think so. I hear his voice before I got out of bed.”

  Will said, “Could you tell where it was coming from?”

  “I think from the pool. My bedroom window was open.” She stopped, looking down at her feet.

  “Was something wrong, Maria?” Julia asked her. “Did you hear something out of the ordinary?”

  There was something wrong, and both he and Julia could sense it. What? What wouldn’t the girl tell them?

  Maria kept shaking her head. “No no. He always swim, very early, sometime still in dark. I did not think he was going to be . . . going to be . . .”

  When Maria looked up, her dark eyes wide and horrified, Will knew she was probably remembering the way the mutilated corpse looked hanging by the neck, pale and bloody.

  “It’s okay. Are you sure it was his voice, not somebody else’s?”

  “I think so, but I was sleepy. I fall back to sleep for a little.”
<
br />   “What time did you get up?”

  “I set alarm for five.”

  “Okay.”

  Will took over for Julia. “Can you tell us exactly what happened after you got up? Just take it slow and try to remember everything you can.”

  Maria looked at Julia for reassurance. Julia nodded and smiled encouragingly.

  “I got up and took shower. I let Julio sleep till I go to big house.”

  “Does the judge allow your son to stay with you when you work?”

  “Yes. The judge very good to Julio. His wife, she not like me much.”

  Will glanced at Julia. They hadn’t heard about the wife yet. “Mrs. Lockhart was here last night?”

  “No, sir. She in New Orleans to visit her madre. She go there many times.”

  Will didn’t know if the wife had been notified yet. He doubted it, but she would have to be, and then checked out. The family always came first on the list of suspects. Especially the spouse. Clear them, and then start in on other family and friends. He already had agents canvassing the neighborhood.

  “So after you and Julio got up, did you see the judge then?”

  Maria answered Julia’s question. “No, I take Julio to the big house and make breakfast. Lucien like coffee strong and eggs in special way. How do you say, Benedict?”

  “Eggs Benedict,” Will said, but the fact that she called the judge by his first name didn’t escape his notice. That indicated their relationship could be more personal than just maid and employer. When he looked at Julia, their eyes met. She had noted it, too.

  “Please, go on.”

  “We set table and I clean up kitchen while we wait for him to come down.”

  “And did he?”

  “No.” Maria’s voice dropped to a whisper. “That when I went to see if he was all right. He always on time for breakfast. When he not in house, I walk out by pool.” She swallowed hard, looked down, and twisted her fingers together. “That when”—her voice got lower—“I saw the blood.”

  “And you followed it?”

  “Yes, sir.” Her gaze met Will’s, and he could see the anguish in her eyes. “I have never see nothing so awful.” She began to cry, and Will could see that her tears were real.

  Julia patted her back and murmured a few reassuring words, but she gazed at Will. There had to be more that the maid could give them. She was asking his permission to continue. He gave it.

  “Maria, please,” Julia said softly. “You’ve got to understand how important it is for you to tell us everything. Any little thing that seemed out of place to you, anything he said or did, you have to remember and tell us. We want to get whoever did this. We need your help.”

  The maid wiped at her tears and let the squirming toddler get down off her lap. Julio immediately went to Will and stood at his knee, looking up at him with big dark eyes. Will smiled at him, but the boy just stared at him with that clear, unblinking innocence. He was a cute kid, and Will hoped to God he hadn’t witnessed the murder scene. He refocused his attention on Maria when she began to speak. Again, her words were breathless, barely discernible.

  “There was woman here last night.”

  Both Will and Julia perked up at that. Okay, now they were getting somewhere.

  “What woman would that be?” Julia asked.

  “It is woman who come when Mrs. Lockhart go away.”

  “He’s having an affair?” Will asked.

  “She is one he pays for.”

  “A call girl?”

  Maria shrugged. “I not know. She came after dinner but was gone when I got up.”

  “You don’t know when she left?”

  “No, sir. But cameras in driveway. They tell you.”

  Will was surprised. He had looked for surveillance cameras when they arrived but hadn’t seen any.

  “We didn’t see any cameras,” Julia said quickly to Maria. “Where are they?”

  “Hidden. The judge afraid sometimes. He get threats.”

  “What threats?”

  “I not know.”

  It was something to check out. Maybe Mrs. Lockhart could clue them in. “Where are these cameras?”

  “They hide them in flower pots and on house. Some up high, in trees.”

  “Is there a camera on the swimming pool?”

  Maria shrugged. “I do not think so.”

  “Is there anything else, Maria? Anything at all? Did you hear the woman’s voice when you heard the judge before dawn?”

  “No, only him. He laughing, I think.”

  “Do you know the woman’s name?”

  Maria looked uncomfortable, and Will wondered if she’d been warned not to mention Judge Lockhart’s midnight guests. “It Ginger, I think. But I never saw her up close or talk to her. He tell me stay here and keep Julio inside when he see her.”

  “Thank you, Maria. Would it be okay if we came back and talked to you again if we need to?”

  That was Julia. Maria nodded.

  Will said, “If you think of anything else, you’ll give us a call, won’t you? Here’s my card.”

  Outside, under the cool shade of a pecan tree, they looked at each other.

  “We just might have a video of the killer,” Julia said, her eyes alight with excitement.

  “Let’s go find those tapes.”

  Chapter 3

  The killer sat at his makeshift table, a single candle flickering in invisible air currents. He stared down at the white paper plate holding about an inch of Judge Lucien Lockhart’s tongue. The cave was very cold tonight, and he could hear the slow drip of water somewhere down the long, dark passage. Fingers entwined and resting on the table, his shoulders relaxed, he felt totally tranquil, almost serene. He had done it. Single-handedly he had sent Lockhart to hell, where he belonged. No one saw him enter or leave Woodstone Circle or the Lockhart grounds. He had been stealthy and controlled, and that was the key. The execution of the murder had been absolutely perfect.

  Now, he was safely back in his hidden lair, untouched, unsuspected. At that thought, he almost laughed to himself. Lair? Him, have a lair? Who would’ve ever thought he would creep down to such a dark, spooky place as this, of all things? He never would’ve dreamed it possible. But it was a place to hide, to plan, and he couldn’t have chosen better. No one knew about this cavern; no one would ever guess where he was when he disappeared for a time. He’d finally worked up the courage to turn his fantasy into a lethal reality.

  When he’d seen Lucien Lockhart helpless, terrified, and most of all, humbled, he had loved it. Loved the twisted horror on Lucien’s face when he’d gotten hold of his tongue with the pliers. Loved the power he’d felt. The explosion of fiery satisfaction had sent shivery sensations skittering down his back. He had never felt such triumph, never in his entire life. Now, he was surprised at how much he craved another such act of depravity. He already knew the disgusting animal he would choose next. Victim Two. A man who deserved to die just as much as Lucien had.

  But first things first. He opened his Murder Book and gazed at Lucien’s photograph, and then he squeezed out a dab of Elmer’s glue on the page just below his image. He picked up the tip of Lockhart’s tongue and pressed it into the glue. He would let it dry, and then he would turn the page. As he wiped the blood residue off his fingers, he saw that his hands were shaking. He was new at this game of murder, raw and inexperienced. A little reaction was understandable. Despite his age, Lockhart had been strong and athletic. But so was he, more so than other people might think, and he’d had the element of sheer surprise. God, that man had been arrogant. Lucien had ordered him off his property as if he were some kind of railroad bum. Judges were used to ordering people around and enjoyed exerting their power and authority. Lucien Lockhart wouldn’t be ordering anybody around now. No, sir. Lucien Lockhart was done for.

  He stared down at the severed tongue glued in the book. The blood had congealed; looked black now. But how many words had come off that tongue that had caused families such unbelievab
le grief and anguish? How many fraudulent orders had been spewed out, to disappoint and infuriate innocent families? The judge had deserved to die, no doubt about it. The world would now be a better place. The fraudulent tongue shall be cut out, he thought with righteous vindication.

  One down, he thought, his pleasure rising higher and higher until it verged on carnal ecstasy, and number Two, here I come.

  In a large closet off Lucien Lockhart’s oak-paneled and book-lined library, they found a long and technically top-notch bank of video camera monitors. Julia stood back and observed while Will Brannock sat down in a tufted, maroon leather swivel chair in front of the eight screens and expertly rewound the videotape from the camera that overlooked the front driveway. As if he knew what to do and had done it plenty of times. She wondered about that. Was he specially trained in surveillance at Quantico? He certainly worked with an unfailing confidence with this electronic equipment. She looked back at the other screens. One at the front door, one at the back door, and another at the double doors at the side of the house under the porte cochere. The one at the entrance gate showed that the uniformed officer who’d waved them inside was still fending off the first swarm of pushy reporters and curious gawkers. The camera at the back door caught a glimpse of Will’s forensic team, working on the corpse, all performing their tasks as thoroughly as Will was performing his.

  Hating to admit it, she acknowledged her admiration for the way the TBI handled things, with expertise and organization, and every resource they needed. She had seen J.D. at work a couple of times, and he was the same way. In fact, she had toyed with the idea of joining the TBI, maybe in their behavioral science unit, but had put it on the back burner for now. She felt she did her job well, had received commendations, and would probably be a good candidate to transfer to another agency. If she paid attention to Will and the other state investigators, maybe this case would be a good tryout, just to see how she’d fit in. So far, none of them had acted overbearing and condescending, at least not much, but that might be because she was J.D.’s sister. There were more cameras focused on the sweep of the backyard in the grassy space below the pool and garden, others in the trees pointed down at various sections of the brick wall protecting the Lockhart property. She saw Jasper in one, sleeping in a flower bed and smashing the pansies. Uh-oh. Unfortunately, there were no cameras trained directly on the swimming pool. Too bad. Her guess was the judge liked to cavort and skinny-dip there with his paid sleazy companion and didn’t want the missus to enjoy the video of their shenanigans. If they got lucky, one of the cameras had caught the movements of the killer.