Donofrio pursed his lips. “Wait for me. Don’t go in alone.”
“Yes, sir, Inspector Donofrio, sir,” I grinned and saluted him.
“Nelson, I’m serious. Don’t screw with me if you want my cooperation.”
“Well, just be that way. If I hear someone screaming, I’ll just twiddle my thumbs until you finish your donuts.”
The bike did much better than a car in the crowded traffic around the university, and I reached Victoria’s apartment building before he did. I stashed my bike behind a garbage bin in the alley, blurred my form, then bypassed the keypad on the front door, and entered the building. After pounding up the steps to the second floor, I listened at Victoria’s door. Nothing. No sounds at all, even with the stethoscope I used for cracking safes.
The elevator dinged at the end of the hall, and I retreated into the stairwell. As soon as Donofrio passed by, I unblurred my image and stepped into the hall behind him.
“I thought we were supposed to wait on each other,” I said.
He whirled around. “Where did you come from?”
I pointed to the stairwell door. “The stairs. It’s healthier for you than taking the elevator.”
The inspector was about to knock on the door, but I caught his hand. “Do you really want to tip the murderer off?” I acted as though I was punching numbers on the keypad and shorted it out. The door clicked. Both of us drew our pistols, and Donofrio cautiously pushed the door open.
The apartment was small—living room, kitchen, bath, and one bedroom. We scanned and cleared the front of the apartment, including the two small closets, then turned our attention to the bedroom. One thing I noticed was how much colder the apartment was than the hallway. More like outside.
The bedroom was a nightmare. Everything was covered in blood, and Victoria’s body hung from the wall as if mocking a crucifixion scene. She was still bleeding, so I went over and touched her, though I knew she was dead.
“She’s still warm.”
“We can’t have missed him by much,” Donofrio said. The window was open, the curtain blowing into the room.
We looked out the window, and saw two bloody hand smears on the outside window sill.
“He hung from here and dropped,” I said. It wouldn’t have been a bad drop, maybe five or six feet.
I turned and rushed out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the building. Under the one open window on the side, I could see two deep footprints.
“Yeah,” I yelled up at the inspector. “He landed here. Footprints.”
I scanned the area, looking for bumps or distortions. I’d never had to look for a chameleon before, but Dad had taken lots of vids when he was training me. We studied the vids, and I learned what movements gave me away and how to mask myself better.
But the person who was best at seeing me when I blurred was Nellie. She had twenty years of experience at sniffing me out.
Deciding that our killer wasn’t still in sight, or he was being very still, I began looking around for additional clues. I noticed there was a small blood splash next to his footprints. About ten feet away, I found another one. Continuing in that direction, I found four more, and then nothing. I was standing in a parking lot, so I decided he’d probably taken a car from that point.
As I walked back to the apartment building, I heard sirens in the distance getting closer. Two cop cars skidded into the parking lot and screeched to a stop. The different-sounding siren of an ambulance grew nearer. Deciding that I probably couldn’t add any value inside, I told the cops which apartment, then waited for the ambulance. When it came, I gave them directions as well.
Pulling out my phone, I called Pong Yejun. “We found her,” I said when he answered, “but we were too late. It looks like the same guy who killed Olga Raskalova.”
I hung around until I had a chance to talk with Donofrio. “Did forensics find anything useful?”
He shook his head. “He wears gloves. In fact, they think he wears a full latex body suit. No hairs, no fibers, no nothing.”
“That would be a bit too obvious, don’t you think? Even at the university, people would notice.”
Donofrio scratched his chin. I noticed that he hadn’t shaved that morning. “Good point. Of course, this is the guy who kills corporate executives in broad daylight, and no one sees him.”
He walked away, looking around and up at the sky. Then he turned. “First, a rich man’s mistress, then his family, then him. Now a student. What’s the connection?”
“Victoria’s father worked for Carleton Weeks,” I told him. “He’s a vice president.” I’d checked out the local and national corporate structure at Entertaincorp. It seemed to be a bit more top heavy than most corporations. Lots of vice presidents.
“Does Entertaincorp provide bodyguards for all of their executives’ children? I think that would constrain a student’s social life.”
“No, they don’t.” I walked up to him and dropped my voice so the constables coming and going couldn’t hear. “They think an ex-employee has a grudge. They’ve assigned security teams to all their executives and their families. That did Carleton Weeks and Victoria Ruiz a lot of good, didn’t it?”
“Does this ex-employee have a name?”
“Not to my knowledge. They’ve been incredibly close-lipped. I practically had to haul out my torture tools to get that much out of Pong.”
Donofrio chuckled. “Torture tools? You’ll have to show me sometime.”
“A non-lethal demonstration usually requires fine wine and a fancy dinner, Inspector. In extreme cases, I sing. Most people will do almost anything to get me to stop.”
He burst out laughing, then put his hand over his mouth to smother it, looking around with a guilty look on his face.
Sobering, he said, “Well, I think they need to reconsider their security measures. So far, they’ve been completely inadequate.”
“Out at the Weeks’ place,” I said, changing the subject, “where were all the bodies found?”
“Various different places. Why?”
“Two security guards and three servants, plus three family members. Difficult to control that many people.”
The inspector looked around again, then said, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” He walked over to Spencer and another detective and spoke with them for a few minutes. When he came back, he said, “Let’s go someplace where we can talk. I haven’t had breakfast yet. Do you know someplace with some privacy?”
“Privacy and breakfast? I usually get that kind of line late at night, not mid-morning,” I said, giving him a bit of a smile. I wasn’t feeling particularly cheerful with Victoria Ruiz’s body still warm.
“Business, Nelson. Up for some brainstorming?”
We ended up at Lilith’s, going in through the kitchen to the employee dining room. Mom ran a twenty-four hour business, so breakfast could be ordered anytime.
Donofrio looked around as he sat down. “I’ve never been in here, though I have to admit I’ve been curious.”
“The rates are probably a bit steep for a policeman’s salary,” I said. “There really isn’t a menu. Order whatever you want, and they’ll tell you if they don’t have it.”
“You come here often?”
“I grew up here. Don’t tell me you aren’t aware of who my mother is.”
He blushed. “I did check out your background.”
The waitress came with coffee and took our order. Other than two girls at a table across the room, we were alone.
“So, we have privacy,” I said. “What kind of brainstorming did you have in mind?”
“After we watched the vid of Carleton Weeks’s murder, I took another look at the security vids at the Weeks estate. I see the same kind of distortions on those vids. When the guard was killed at the gate, there’s a distortion outside the gate. I can see the guard and the bars of the gate clearly, but a spot beyond the gate is blurry. Then the guard suddenly falls down with two bullets in his chest.”
Donofrio pulled out a tablet and brought up a diagram on the screen. It took me a moment to realize it was a rough drawing of a house and grounds seen from above.
“One security guard was found by the front gate,” Donofrio said, “and the other one near the front door.” He switched to another drawing of the house’s floor plan . “The cook and maid were found in the kitchen, the housekeeper just inside the front door.”
“All shot.”
“Yes. The second guard was shot in the back of the head. There’s a distortion of the vid behind him at the time.”
“When Weeks was shot outside his office, was the gun silenced?” I asked.
“No, it wasn’t.”
“So our killer is walking through the house shooting people. Where were Mrs. Weeks and the girls?”
“No idea where they were while all this was happening. We found them in three different rooms.”
“Their own bedrooms?”
“Yes.”
“So, he shoots the housekeeper when she opens the door, goes into the kitchen and shoots the other two women.”
“We figure that from the time he killed the guard at the front gate, it took at least five minutes to kill the others and grab the wife and girls. No one tried to call for help or set off the alarms. There was a panic-alarm button in every room,” Donofrio said.
I thought about it. “Inspector, I don’t pretend to be an expert on psychopaths or mass murderers, but do these guys ever have partners?”
“Occasionally. It’s rare, but it happens. Especially with sexual predators. Why?”
“I’m just thinking it would be hard to control that many people. Of course, all he has to do is grab one girl or the mother, and threaten to kill her to control all three.”
The waitress brought our food, and I watched as Donofrio took the first bite of his omelet. The expression on his face told me Dominik had conquered another set of taste buds.
We ate in silence for a while, then the inspector said, “You haven’t commented on the idea that our killer is invisible.”
With a shrug, I said, “What’s there to say? Occam’s Razor. We know of some scientific research into invisibility, and we know of anecdotal information about mutants and magic. Both of those make more sense than someone manipulating the vids. That would have been my first guess, but I don’t think anyone could gain access to the vids from the Entertaincorp security cameras.”
“Mutants and magic?”
“I talked to a friend of mine, and he asked me what I would call it when a person manipulates the physical world without the use of technology. You know, we accepted the existence of magic for a long time. Then we tried to stamp it out and burned all the witches. Now, we have some of those same stories again. Vampires, for instance.”
“We know that the vampires are the result of genetic engineering,” Donofrio said.
“We know that scientists took some mutated individuals and added genetic engineering,” I countered. “Suppose the old legends were based on sanguivorous mutations, and the stories were exaggerated. Then a bunch of nerds in a lab decide the true mutations that have resurfaced are too mundane, so they enhance them to get the comic book characters they grew up with.”
“You are entirely too logical.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll try to do a better job of controlling that. Please don’t tell anyone.”
He laughed, then caught himself and sobered. “You know, on such a grim morning, that’s twice you’ve made me laugh.”
I regarded him and decided I liked him. “When you’re six-foot-two and blonde, you have to have a defense mechanism.”
“And beautiful.”
I stared at him, feeling my face heat, and tried to figure out what to say. “Inspector, I think you need to get your eyes checked.” I turned to look at the two girls having breakfast across the room. “That’s beautiful.” My mom didn’t hire merely pretty girls to entertain customers. When you aspired to the appellation of “Best Brothel in North America,” you set high standards. Even the waitresses were better looking than I was.
“I think your standards are a little warped,” Donofrio said.
“So are those of everyone with a screen. My mom and Entertaincorp compete for the same women to entertain their customers.”
He nodded. “True.”
I gave him a smile. “Not that I mind a little flattery. It’s better than calling me a troll, like the boys did when I was fourteen.”
Chapter 5
Inspector Donofrio refused to let me buy his breakfast, and instead insisted on paying for mine. I wondered if he would have been as eager without the employee discount the waitress automatically applied to our check. He drove me back to Victoria’s apartment building, where I picked up my bike and rode over to Entertaincorp’s headquarters.
I briefed Director Pong on the murders, and also told him about the security vids. That, I discovered, he already knew. I felt a little dense, since I should have known the cops had to get both sets from Pong’s people.
Pong shook his head. “One person can’t think of everything. I’ve had a team analyzing those vids, and no one has suggested invisibility as a reason for the anomalies we’ve seen.”
I took a sip of his wonderful coffee and said, “Scientists tend to dismiss things they can’t explain. Electrogenesis and telepathy are talents I’ve personally experienced. One is measureable, and the other isn’t. I’ve read about light-bending technologies that mimic invisibility. Whether it’s a comfortable explanation, it fits the observable facts.”
“It does,” he said, getting up and refilling our cups. “How do we combat it?”
“I think the first thing is to make your people aware of it. Show those vids to all your security people. Don’t let people work alone. Hopefully, they can watch each other’s backs. Ballistic clothing. Don’t make it easy for our killer to shoot you, and that includes the families you’re trying to protect.”
He indicated the motorcycle jacket I wore. “Are you taking your own advice?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. Leather with a lining of ballistic cloth. The areas over my heart and lungs, front and back, have Kevlar inserts. In addition, I’m wearing a ballistic corset that is better than most bullet-proof vests. After this morning, I’m dressing my associate and Miss Barton in protective clothing. I don’t think an overabundance of caution is possible.”
“That still doesn’t tell me how we deal with this guy.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I said. “I think he chose Victoria because she was lightly protected. I know the people you’re trying to protect are impatient with restrictions—”
Pong snorted. “Miss Nelson, you do have a talent for understatement. What are we supposed to do? Put all the execs’ families in lock down? They do have a business to run, and providing them all with an army of protectors just isn’t feasible.”
“Then some of them will probably die before this guy is caught.”
I took Mike and Nellie to a very exclusive specialized tailor that afternoon. Mike knew exactly what he wanted, and was able to pick it out from garments on the rack. Nellie was harder, as I expected, but she loved the corsets. Her frame wasn’t unusual, and minor adjustments managed to fit three corsets in different colors to her body. We also got her a long trench coat in ballistic fabric.
As long as our killer didn’t sneak up and shoot us in the back of the head, I figured we’d be all right. I paid for Mike’s vest and coat, but Nellie insisted on charging her clothes to O’Malley’s credit card. I didn’t argue. She was excited about modeling them for him after their date that evening. Mike and I would hang out in the hallway watching their hotel room all night, so I wasn’t near as excited as she was.
We managed to spend the next three days without another murder. I suspected it wouldn’t last, so I wasn’t surprised when I got the call from Director Pong. “Someone just shot two guards at David Connolly’s estate.”
“And? When?” I asked. Connolly was another Enterta
incorp vice president, who lived close to O’Malley.
“The remaining guards seem to have driven him off.”
If Pong had been physically present, I’d have wrung his neck.
“So, why are you calling me?”
“You wanted to be in the loop.”
“Then why aren’t you telling me anything? For God’s sake, either give me some details or go away.”
Silence was followed by a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. Someone attempted to gain access to the Connolly estate and set off the alarms. Two of the guards responded and were shot. At that point, the team leader in charge turned on all the lights and the motion lasers as you suggested. I guess there were a couple of attempts to approach the house, the lasers identified a location, and the guards fired in that direction. After the second attempt, there weren’t any more incursions. My central monitoring station here in the city was notified as soon as the alarms were tripped.”
“Thank you. That was far more informative. And no one saw anything? How long did it all last?”
“About ten or fifteen minutes. And no, no one saw anything, but we do have that blurring on the security vids, and in the areas the motion sensors indicated. Any suggestions for what we might have done differently?”
“Not really. Oh, maybe turn on the lawn sprinklers. That might provide more of a visual clue. We’re pretty sure he’s solid. So, do you have vid?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps I could talk you into sending it to me.”
“Of course. Miss Nelson, I now believe in your invisible man.”
The vids came over about fifteen minutes later, and I played them on a large screen in my computer room. As I set the first vid to run, Mike and Nellie came in and sat down. To my delight, they brought microwave popcorn.
Nellie was first to identify the chameleon. We were watching the cameras focused on the outer wall before anything happened.
“There! Go back. Okay, go forward slowly. See? He crawled over the wall in the back.”
Conolley’s home was in a walled suburb with half-acre to full-acre lots and houses in the five to ten million range. Not up to the scale of places I usually robbed, but pretty fancy all the same. Eight-foot walls designed for privacy and not security separated the houses. The only breaks in the walls were gates for the driveways.
Chameleon's Challenge (Chameleon Assassin Series Book 3) Page 4
