The Axeman's Jazz (Skip Langdon Mystery Series #2) (The Skip Langdon Series)

by Julie Smith

  “Alex, it’s Skip. I’m a police officer.” Remembering he knew that, she said, “I mean I’m here on police business.”

  “Po-lice!” said Lamar. “Now I recognize you. You’re the questionnaire lady.”

  “Dad, you know this woman?” Alex had on a pair of undershorts and one of the nastier scowls Skip ever hoped to see.

  “Shore. This is that good-lookin’ one I was tellin’ you about. The one with the nice big bottom.”

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  Skip held up her badge. “Could I come in, please?”

  Lamar let her in while Alex went to find a pair of pants. “Lamar, I’m real sorry I woke you up. Why don’t you go on back to bed?”

  “Well, I’m up now. What’s Elec done?”

  “Were you awake when he came home?”

  He thought a minute. “Nope. Didn’t even know he was home.”

  “What time did you go to bed?”

  “Oh, ’bout nine or ten.”

  Alex stomped back in. “Dad, for Christ’s sake, go back to bed.”

  “I’m not doin’ it.”

  “Sit over there, then. And be real quiet.” He pointed to a Naugahyde recliner, probably hoping his dad would fall asleep in it.

  Skip wasn’t crazy about having an audience, but she decided not to argue. “Alex, where’d you go after we talked tonight?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “A girl got murdered tonight.”

  “What girl? What does this have to do with me?” His voice went up on the last word; it sounded slightly whiny.

  “I need you to answer a few questions, please.”

  “Well, I need you to leave my house, please.”

  Damn these sophisticated witnesses.

  He could make her leave and apparently he knew it.

  “Alex, this is serious.”

  “I don’t care. It’s your problem. I don’t have to cooperate with you and I’m not going to if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

  Angrily, Skip fumbled in her purse for the picture of Linda Lee she had brought. “Did you know this girl?”

  “This girl!” He looked at the picture and then back at Skip, upset for once, knocked off his pins. “What about this girl?”

  “You knew her, didn’t you?”

  “This girl wasn’t murdered tonight. What the hell’s going on here?”

  “Answer the question, Alex.”

  “This is the one who got the axe. I thought that was her. I saw her picture and I thought it was the same girl. But then I thought it couldn’t be. Her hairdo was different or something. She came to our group once. The teddy-bear group. I asked her to go for a motorcycle ride. That’s really her, isn’t it? I never knew her name.”

  “She didn’t mention it on the motorcycle?”

  “She didn’t go.”

  “How many times did you see her?”

  “Skip, what the hell is this all about? It’s three A.M. and this happened two weeks ago.”

  “I told you.”

  He put it together instantly; Di never had gotten it. “Another Axeman murder! Who?”

  “A girl named Jerilyn Jordan. A high school student.”

  He showed no emotion. “I never heard of her.”

  “What time did you get home tonight?”

  “Why me, dammit? I don’t know the girl.”

  She saw that he would just badger her until she told him. “She was Abe Morrison’s baby-sitter.”

  “Abe Morrison? Oh, Abe from the group. Did he do it?”

  She didn’t answer, but his mind kept working. “Hold it a second. Wait a minute. That’s two from the group. More or less from the group, connected with it. You think the Axeman’s from the group, don’t you?” He sounded excited.

  “Alex, it’s late. Could you just answer the questions, please?”

  “Oh, man, wait till I tell my agent.” His voice was positively gleeful. “This is great. This sheds a whole new light on things.”

  “Are you going to cooperate with the police or not?”

  He put on a good-boy look. “I arrived home about ten-thirty. I watched television till eleven-thirty or twelve and then I went to bed. I was awakened from a good night’s sleep by a police officer at approximately two fifty-two a.m.”

  Lamar said, “That’s a bald-faced lie.”

  “What’s a bald-faced lie?”

  “You went out again. I heard you on your little scooter.”

  Alex turned back to Skip. “That’s right, I did. I went out to get some beer about fifteen minutes after I got home. Say about ten forty-five.”

  “And you came right back?”

  “Yes.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Dad, who’s telling this story?”

  “I never heard you come back.”

  “Well, I had to have come back sometime or I wouldn’t be here now.”

  “Well, I didn’t hear you.”

  “I can’t help what you heard or didn’t hear in that drunken haze of yours. I went out to get some beer and I came right back.”

  “I was still awake at eleven-thirty because I was watching television. You weren’t home then.”

  “Dad, you weren’t even awake when I got home the first time.”

  “I know, but you woke me up with that dadgum scooter of yours and I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

  “Listen to him,” said Alex. “Will you listen to him? You know what it’s like to live with a seventy-five-year-old six-year-old?”

  Rummaging quickly, Skip produced a picture of Tom Mabus. “Have you ever seen this man?”

  “He’s the other victim, isn’t he? I only saw the woman.”

  “Often?”

  “No. Just the once. A couple of weeks ago, maybe three.”

  “Try to remember.”

  “Well, it wasn’t last week. You were there. The week before that. That’s when it was. Three meetings ago.”

  The night she died? Either that or the night before. Skip’s stomach felt slightly queasy. “Do you remember what she was wearing?”

  He shrugged. “No. Pants maybe. Yeah. Not shorts or a dress. Because I noticed she could ride the motorcycle if she wanted to. One of those subliminal things.”

  “Do you remember what color?”

  “Are you taking a fashion survey, or what?”

  She summoned a smile. “I guess not. Good night, boys.” She sincerely meant the last word.

  Sonny met her in running shorts and T-shirt, apparently hastily pulled on, not stopping for undergarments. She could see the well-defined outline of his substantial equipment through the shorts. A puppy shot out the door when he opened it. But its legs were too short for the stairs—Skip caught it while Sonny blinked in the light.

  “That’s Zeke,” he said.

  He seemed so groggy she wondered if he’d taken a sleeping pill. When she got to the part about being a police officer, he said, “Missy! Something’s happened to Missy.”

  “No, don’t worry. Missy’s fine. But we do have a problem and I need to ask you some questions.”

  “A problem?”

  Skip decided to ignore the question. Sonny was so absurdly Southern-polite he wouldn’t be so crude as to press her. “May I sit down?”

  His apartment was a typical student’s. Not much furniture and what there was was covered with debris. But top-of-the-line stereo equipment, hundreds of dollars’ worth of compact discs. Some workout equipment, one painting that had be to a Rob Gerard.

  “Sonny, I need to ask what you did tonight after you left PJ’s.”

  “I took Missy home. And then I came home and tried to study. But I couldn’t. I was just too tired. I fell asleep with the lights on.”

  “Did you call anyone? Or did anyone call you?”

  “No. I was dead to the world. I woke up sometime and pulled my clothes off. That’s all I remember.” He patted Zeke and lifted him up to his lap. He was a golden puppy, a lab or a retriever, w
ith the requisite cute floppy ears and nippy little teeth.

  “Such a sweet puppy.”

  “I just got him. I think that’s why I talked about my grandfather tonight. My first dog died right after my grandfather did.”

  “How sad, both things at once.”

  Sonny forced a smile. “But I have Zeke now.”

  “How did your other dog die?” Did you strangle him, by any chance?

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I was so little…”

  The shrug had been too nervous, the answer a little too quick. Skip sensed bravado rather than truth. She pulled out her photo of Tom Mabus. “Do you recognize this man?”

  “No.” But he suddenly looked very frightened.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I know who he is. He’s one of the Axeman victims.”

  “Why would that scare you?”

  “The other one. I think I might have known her. I mean I think I talked to her.” It was a kind of croak. “I’ve got to get some water.”

  He left and came back wiping his mouth. Skip had laid Linda Lee’s picture on his scratched-up Fifties coffee table. “This one?”

  “Yeah.” He looked very serious, a little boy sent to the principal’s office. “I think she came to a meeting once. She spoke to me. I think she’s the one.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Missy and I weren’t sitting together. She came over after the meeting and asked if I’d like to have coffee—just came out and said it. Said she’d seen me across the room and thought she’d like to meet me. I was real embarrassed. I said I had to go home and study. I didn’t even tell her Di and everybody would probably go to PJ’s. I just sort of stammered. I got a real bad feeling when I saw her picture in the paper. Like after I turned her down maybe she asked someone else.” He paused a moment and tried to grin. “Is that what they mean by codependent? When you feel responsible for something like that?”

  But Skip was more interested in something else—Linda Lee had been drinking coffee. “You mean you suspected someone else from the group?”

  “The group? No. I just thought if she was in the habit of doing that … some guy got her.”

  “Did you see her ask anyone else?”

  “No. I got out of there fast. Missy had her own car, so I didn’t have to wait.”

  “Can you remember when it was?”

  “Oh, yeah. It was the Thursday before I saw her picture in the paper. That’s why I was so freaked.”

  “Why didn’t you call the police?” She tried to keep the anger out of her voice.

  “Well, I wasn’t sure it was her. And you know; I didn’t want to get involved.”

  “Do you know a Jerilyn Jordan?”

  “No. Why?”

  “She was murdered tonight.”

  He sat back and blinked at her, fighting the words off. Finally, he said, “I don’t understand. What does it have to do with me?”

  “She’s Abe’s baby-sitter.”

  “Abe?” Skip wondered what kind of doctor he’d make. His mind seemed fuzzy, he couldn’t seem to wake up.

  She decided she liked that. He was vulnerable. She made a decision; nodded as if she possessed superior wisdom.

  “Yes, Abe. The man who shared about having to get a baby-sitter.”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember that. I know the guy. We had a meeting at his house once.”

  “Do you understand what this means?”

  But he just sat there, looking more and more depressed, lips tight, eyes strained.

  “Everyone at the meeting knew she was there. And I guess most regulars knew Abe usually went and had coffee afterward.”

  “Oh.”

  She said, “Three people have been killed, Sonny, and all of them are linked to that inner-child group. And now you tell me the group’s actually been to Abe’s house.”

  “So you think the Axeman’s someone in the group?”

  “Do you?”

  “Missy! I’ve got to call Missy!” He shot out of his seat, dumping the puppy with a thunk, but Skip grabbed his wrist. If he got to Missy before she did, she’d lose the element of surprise.

  “I’m going to see her right now. I’ll have her call you.” He sat down again, legs rubbery, not seeming to have much will of his own.

  Skip was starting to think there was more to this than grogginess; he seemed a very depressed young man. But who wasn’t, especially in this bunch? They didn’t go to twelve-step programs because they were the picture of emotional health. Still, Sonny looked more like it than most.

  He said, “She’s going through a rough time—all that incest stuff.” He shuddered. “Can you imagine? Your own father! What kind of father would do a thing like that?”

  “How was she tonight? When you took her home?”

  “A little shaky. Not too good, to tell you the truth. You know why?”

  I can guess.

  “She was worried about me.”

  Bingo.

  “Because of what Di said about her doctor. He’s my dad. I was really embarrassed when Di said it. For my dad, you know? But of course nobody but Missy knew who it was. Not even Di. I know her last name because—” He stopped, looking confused, but in a moment he brightened. “I saw it the night of the Axeman party. On her mailbox. But nobody knows my name. I never use it in there. Anyway, first I was embarrassed and then I was mad. I knew how it was going to affect Missy. I knew she’d be really worried about me.” He leaned down, stroked the dog for comfort. “The girl wasn’t raped, was she?”

  Skip was so taken aback by the change of subject, she almost asked, “What girl?”

  “We don’t know yet,” she said.

  “Poor Missy,” said Sonny, as if she were the victim.

  Missy’s living room light was on and so was the porch one, ready for a visitor. Realizing Sonny had called her after all, Skip cursed herself for telling him about the Axeman. But at least it saved endless explanations and the tedious footwork of dodging questions.

  Missy did an odd thing. As soon as she saw Skip, she let held-back tears come to her eyes and threw her arms around her, clung to her like a child needing a big sister. “Oh, Skip, I’m so glad you’re here. Sonny’s coming, but he said you’d want to see me first.”

  She looked about fifteen in her Lanz summer robe. “I’m so glad to have a friend in the police department.”

  She was so winning, this girl. Who wouldn’t like her? And yet Skip knew that deep down Missy felt no one did, that she worked so hard at being liked to hide her imagined worthlessness. Skip had her problems with her own father, but for now she was just grateful she’d been spared Missy’s ordeal.

  “Sonny’s told you what happened tonight?”

  “Yes. And everything else—about the Axeman being someone in the group.”

  “I didn’t say that…”

  “But he thought you thought that.”

  Well, he’s right. “We don’t have a suspect yet.”

  “It’s so creepy.”

  “It is. It’s horrible to think someone you know might be a murderer. Listen, Missy, I hate to do this, but I have to ask you what you did tonight after you left PJ’s.”

  She shrugged. “Sonny brought me right home. That was all.”

  “Do you live alone?”

  “I live with my aunt, but she left for Thailand this morning. That’s why Sonny’s so freaked out—because I’m all alone here. Oh, Skip, I’m so worried about him. And of course he’s worried about me. But he’s working through something really painful. Something he won’t talk about.”

  “Is it something to do with the new puppy?”

  She smiled. “Isn’t he cute? I got him for him. I thought it might help because he’s so sad about this grandfather stuff. It only started coming up the last few days. It’s something about his whole family. I think he thinks they blame him for his grandfather’s death.”

  “That’s nothing. Knowing Sonny, he probably blames himself.” The same way he thinks it’s hi
s fault Linda Lee got killed because he didn’t have coffee with her.

  “Isn’t that the truth? That’s just what he’s like. Maybe that’s why he’s more like that than most people. Because of his grandfather, I mean.”

  “I guess most little kids blame themselves when there’s a death in the family.”

  “But Sonny’s an extreme case. It’s why he decided to become a doctor. He didn’t do it because his father and grandfather were doctors. It’s because he’s still suffering guilt about someone dying that he couldn’t save.” She turned mournful blue eyes on Skip. “It’s so sad, isn’t it?”

  Skip tried to smile. Enough of this. “He’s worried about you too, kid.”

  Afterward, she went back to the office, but Cappello sent her home. Sent herself home as well, calling a task-force meeting at eight: “Last thing I want on my hands is a bunch of ornery cops who’ve been up all night.”

  Skip got two hours’ sleep, but it was better than nothing.

  By eight-thirty, they’d identified everyone at the meeting except two people and eliminated twenty-seven as suspects.

  There were fifteen people who hadn’t yet been interviewed or who had no alibis, among them Skip’s four and the two they hadn’t yet identified. All of them were possible suspects.

  Of the thirteen who had been identified, four had criminal records, including Di and Alex. They decided to concentrate on these four, assigning full-time surveillance to all of them. Skip got Di.

  O’Rourke was assigned to go over the phone list with various witnesses, and then to go over the many lists and diagrams composed over the past few hours by the task force—lists of people who’d been at the meeting, diagrams of the meeting room, each chair bearing the name of its occupant. This way they hoped to identify the last two attendees and verify the others.

  Out of the muck and mire had arisen several people who’d known Tom Mabus, one or two who could vaguely remember Linda Lee. And that was about it. Except for two things. One was the niggling feeling that, because of the scarf, this wasn’t an Axeman murder after all. Maybe it was a copycat. The other was Cindy Lou’s salty assessment of a few people she’d met the night before.

  “That Di’s a piece of work, man.”

  “I love it,” said Abasolo, “when you throw around those scientific terms.”

  “She’s got to have every man she can get, but my guess is she doesn’t give them much in return. She’s so far in denial about most things, she sounds like she’s crazy half the time, but I don’t think so.”