BOOKER Box Set #2 (A Private Investigator Thriller Series of Crime and Suspense): Volumes 4-6

by John W. Mefford

  He rolled his eyes. “The Internet. I’ve heard everything now. Holy—”

  “You two again, huh?” With a thumb hooked in his front pocket, Homicide Detective Bobby Sturm assumed the old cowboy position.

  “I could say the same about you. They give you all the juicy cases?”

  “I just had the short straw for Halloween. This is when all the true lunatics come out and play. But I guess you guys know that.”

  “I’ve got a few stories,” I said.

  “We’ll have to trade a few over beers some time.”

  “Sounds good. I know a decent bar.”

  “So, what’s the scoop on the young lady?”

  On the way over, Chief Ligon put Henry and me on a quick three-way call—quick, as in thirty seconds. It was as if he was concerned that someone was tracking his GPS signal. He told us the victim was not a cop, nor a judge. In fact, the chief didn’t have a clue who she was.

  “So why call us to the crime scene?” I had asked.

  “She was tossed out of a condo one floor above me.” That’s when he hung up.

  So we were curious, if nothing else.

  Bobby escorted us closer to the yellow tape that closed off traffic on Olive. I looked skyward and saw the top of the trendy W Dallas Hotel and Residences, one of the crown jewels in the Dallas skyline, the gem in Victory Plaza, just across the street from the home of the Mavericks and Stars. Pretty people mated like rabbits around this location, which made me immediately question why Chief Ligon decided to live among the chiseled, affluent crowd. Well, that and he worked off a government paycheck, and condos in the W could easily hit seven figures.

  Bobby said, “This is one body you don’t want to see. She took a skydive off the fourteenth floor.”

  “How do you know it’s a homicide?” Henry asked before I had the chance.

  “This place is bustling with action. One woman swears she saw a man in a dark outfit hitting on the victim and then throwing her over the railing. Multiple people saw her flying through the air. Could even describe the sound of when she hit.”

  I’d seen something similar my second year on the force. A suicide by a guy just laid off from his IT job. The thump of his body hitting the pavement would never leave me. “Nasty. You or the ME can describe everything to us, if you don’t mind?”

  “Yeah, my stomach’s not full of the deadly combination of alcohol and candy,” Henry said.

  I held up my hand. “I was working, so I laid off all the specialty drinks.”

  “Didn’t try the Black Cat Martini? I sipped some of Cindy’s good stuff.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “I’ll let Justin know he hit another home run on the marketing front.”

  Bobby jumped in. “Hell, my car still smells from last Halloween. I had the pleasant opportunity of giving the mayor a ride home from a big party being thrown at the Fairmount. Chief called me directly. Said we owed it to him. The guy couldn’t even get a cab?”

  “Or call Uber?” I added.

  “Everything is so damn political in a big city.” His Southern drawl was so thick he added an extra syllable to each word. He took a step to his right, found a plot of grass, and spit out some chew.

  Another detective approached Bobby, and he held up his finger and turned his back to us. I took the opportunity to bend Henry’s ear.

  “Hey, it’s been a crazy few days since the chief brought us in on this special project.” I dug my hands in my pockets, keeping my tone low and even.

  He nodded, looking toward the body that was covered with a white sheet. Three MEs took turns taking notes on some type of tablet, then peeking under the sheet.

  “Been needing to tell you about my run-in with an old high school classmate,” I said.

  Henry’s eyes shifted to me, then back to the dead body. “Run-in, huh? Doesn’t sound like you had a conversation about who was the biggest teacher’s pet.”

  “This guy—Metrick McHenry is his name—spent most of his time in the teacher’s doghouse. And not just for screwing around like the rest of us.”

  “I’m listening.”

  I walked him through the conversation at the car wash, including Metrick’s accusations toward Donley.

  “So we’re supposed to believe that this guy wasn’t just given a hard time, but he was arrested, convicted of a felony, and sent to prison, all from one officer who had some type of vendetta against him? I’ve heard a different flavor of that story a hundred times.” He held up a hand. “No, it’s more like a thousand times. They all want to blame someone else. A cop doing his job is typically the first person they want to blame.”

  “Who’s the second?”

  “People like me. That’s why those in my office insist on everything being done the right way. The last thing we can afford is to have a guilty man walk. Sounds like your buddy was guilty.”

  A splash of light took my eyes across the street. Six enormous screens, hanging just above a local TV station studio, showed a montage of Dallas Mavericks basketball highlights, obviously trying to drum up a little bit of excitement about the upcoming season.

  “Hey, the Mavs open the season on Saturday night at home, taking on Lebron and the Cavs. Maybe we can get tickets, if all of this is behind us,” I said.

  “Damn, you got more confidence than me,” he said, propping his chin with his hand.

  “Hopefully, we won’t have to be at more crime scenes like this one.”

  I thought more about Henry’s gut response to Metrick’s story, at least the first half of it.

  “Hey, there’s more to the world of Metrick McHenry.”

  “His rap sheet sounds longer than one of Cindy’s elongated laughing attacks,” he said.

  “I didn’t know you—”

  “I love her, but I notice.”

  He’d uttered the “L” word, but I let it slide without giving him a hard time.

  “Anyway, when we left the ME’s office yesterday, a car almost ran me over in the parking lot.”

  “You kidding me? You’re just now telling me?” He gave me the once-over. “I guess they missed.”

  “Near miss. Clipped my foot when I dove out of the way. I banged my head on a car window.”

  “The window must have lost the battle.”

  I chortled once. “Something like that. But I’m almost certain that I saw Metrick in the passenger seat.”

  He lifted both hands while shaking his head. “I tell you, I’m not surprised. He tries to butter you up at the car wash, then run you over a few hours later. Damn addicts, you just never know when they’re going to need a fix and turn on the best friend.”

  I knew Henry was a damn good prosecutor, but his harsh tone got my attention.

  “Any idea on who was driving?” he asked, his tenor in a calmer state.

  “I never got a look.”

  “I guess you never filed a report?”

  “Can’t. It would all lead back to our special project.”

  He nodded. “Do you have the make, model, license plate? Maybe I can get someone to do a favor without drawing any attention to what happened, or your involvement?”

  “By the way, not to piss on a dead man, but Donley’s record isn’t solid.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Well, it’s mixed. Won the Medal of Honor a few years back.”

  Henry turned, and his mouth hung open for a second. “Wasn’t aware of that. Good to know we’re dealing with a hero. Geez.”

  “But it’s not that easy. He’s got some black marks on his record too.” I went over everything Alisa had found, and Henry’s lips formed a straight line.

  “Don’t know what to say.”

  “I think Metrick might be telling the truth, at least partially.”

  “Even though he tried to kill you?”

  “Let’s just say he and I need some quality time to talk this out. Then I’ll give you my final opinion.”

  “Cool. Let me know,” he said as Bobby stepped back into our space.

&nb
sp; “You guys wanna see her condo?”

  He started walking toward the side door, but Henry kept his eyes peeled to the lifeless body and the MEs.

  “Know anyone over there?” I asked him as we stepped onto the curb.

  “Hold on,” he said, holding a hand toward my chest. “Bobby, I need to see that body.” Henry turned and faced the gory scene.

  “You sure about that? Why?”

  “I…I can’t say. Just let me see it first.”

  I walked behind the pair, stopping about fifteen feet in front of the spike of a black heel poking out from under the sheet. After seeing so many gory images on Halloween night, I knew they were ultimately fake, more of a joke. This scene was no joke.

  “Henry, are you sure you want to do this?” I asked.

  Without turning around, he said, “I have to.”

  Just then, I got the sense he might know this person, and my gut tightened. I forced myself to move closer. As I walked heel to toe, I watched Bobby lean down, take hold of the sheet, and pause for a brief moment. Three guys from the ME’s office and a couple of detectives hovered around Bobby, perhaps wanting to see Henry’s response.

  Bobby lifted the sheet. I took a quick glimpse, avoiding the face, and I saw a woman in some type of black, shiny outfit, lots of blood, and her limbs at awkward angles. Then my eyes went right to Henry. His chin dropped, and he put his hands on his knees, shaking his head.

  “He’s seen enough,” I said, moving over to rest a hand on Henry’s shoulder.

  The man with a gregarious personality, beaming confidence, and endless energy closed his eyes and didn’t move. His lips appeared to be moving, but I couldn’t hear a word.

  “Henry, are you okay?”

  Leaning in, I tried to hear what he was whispering, but the sound was vapor. I pulled his shoulders upward, and his body nearly crumbled.

  “Henry, what’s going on, man?”

  Suddenly, he came back to life and jerked his frame around, rubbing his face.

  “Dammit!”

  “What?”

  “I know her, Booker. I frickin’ know her.” His eyes fluttered as his chest seemed to beg for more air.

  “Friend, or more than that?”

  Pressing his lips together, he seemed to gather himself a bit. He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. “Her name is Kim. She works in my office,” he said, turning to look at me.

  “Holy Mother of Jesus.”

  Glancing back over my shoulder at the sheet, I let the image of the dead woman, Kim, resonate. Her outfit was skin tight, some type of stretched, satiny leather. Plenty of skin poked through latticed black string down the sides of her legs, even up through her torso. A tiny, black bra clung to her chest. A few things really stood out: the blood and other matter smattered everywhere, her overall height—she looked to be close to my six-three frame—and the tattoo on her lower abdomen. The most authentic etching of a black widow I’d ever seen.

  “She moved here when she was young, under ten. Her parents died in a car accident, and she basically raised herself, starting at age sixteen,” Henry said as Bobby walked up. He gave me a quick nod.

  “You know her, don’t you?” he asked Henry.

  “Can you give him a minute? He needs to process everything.”

  “I’m fine, Booker,” he said, shifting his eyes from me to Bobby.

  “They were colleagues, friends from what it sounds like,” I said.

  “For a while, we were more than friends,” Henry said in subdued tone. Bobby actually stopped chewing his tobacco for a few seconds.

  “What does she do in the DA’s office?” I asked as Bobby gave me a slow nod.

  “One of our paralegals.”

  “Detective.” A uniformed officer butted in, literally putting himself between Scott and Henry.

  “Yes, what?” Bobby seemed annoyed.

  “ME’s office is ready for the body to be hauled away.”

  Bobby stared down at the kid. I wasn’t sure whose face was redder. “Bad timing, Officer. Give us a minute.”

  “But, Detective, Dan said—”

  “I don’t give a shit. Give us a minute.”

  The officer adjusted his hat and swallowed hard, probably realizing he’d overstepped the invisible but very real line between the haves and have nots—those in uniform and those in civvies. Detectives. He glanced toward a huddle of MEs, and I could see Dan O’Malley. I hadn’t noticed him earlier.

  “Sorry, Henry. Didn’t mean to interrupt you.” Bobby’s jaw chewed like a cow that had been withheld food for two weeks.

  “Yeah, Kim, she was a different kind of person.”

  “In what way?” Bobby asked, obviously hoping for a clue.

  “When she first joined the office two, three years ago, she was shy and kind of nerdy looking.” Henry’s lips turned up at the corners.

  “There must be a funny story there,” I said.

  “Second, maybe third day on the job. She was nervous, a little jittery even. She had on this dress that made her look like an old maid. Flower print, lace around the neckline, long sleeves, shoes that looked like she worked in a nursing home. Even had a pen in her hair.” He chortled, covering his mouth. “Newsome, the DA, had barked out some type of instruction in a meeting.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard you say he’s got a quick trigger on his temper.”

  “And then some. Maybe that’s what Kim had picked up, even just a couple of days into the new job. She jumped up to run off and do what he said, even though he wasn’t directing his tirade at her. As he kept talking, she wasn’t looking where she was going, and she walked right into a floor-to-ceiling glass wall. Fell right on her ass, bruised her face.”

  “Ouch.”

  “You should have heard the oohs and aahs. We couldn’t believe what a klutz she was.”

  “We all have our moments, I suppose.”

  “She told me a few months later that she’d purposely not worn her glasses. Said they made her look like an old Chinese lady.”

  “I guess she wasn’t into the thousand-dollar suits.”

  “That happened after we dated.”

  I just nodded.

  “I thought they looked down on that, no?” Bobby asked.

  “Of course they did, which is why we kept it a secret. Not that it was any type of major thing. She was kind of ordinary.”

  Bobby maneuvered something around in his mouth so he could speak. “Henry, not sure if you noticed, but she was wearing a rather sexy cat woman outfit.”

  “It’s Halloween isn’t it?”

  “You haven’t seen her condo yet. It’s, uh…” Bobby glanced over at me. “Let’s just say her wardrobe has taken a completely different path since you guys dated.”

  “I know that. I actually helped her figure out how to dress for success. Took her shopping, helped her understand what type of clothes she looked good in. And yes, I noticed her knockout body.”

  “I didn’t see too many traditional business suits.”

  “Her look has…evolved in the last couple of years.”

  Another siren blared in the distance, bouncing off the throng of buildings in the area. We all paused, wondering if it was headed in our direction. Then the piercing noise faded, and I could only hear a faint echo. Bobby gave me a look. We both wondered if another heinous crime had been committed on Halloween night.

  “Hey.” Bobby flicked a wrist off Henry’s arm. “Do you know any of her family members we could notify?”

  “Heard her mention a brother once, I think. But she avoided the family topic mostly, since her parents died when she was so young.”

  Bobby scrunched his forehead.

  I let Bobby know about her parents.

  “Look, as you start talking to her friends and colleagues, you’re probably going to hear a pretty consistent theme,” Henry said.

  Bobby prompted, “And that is?”

  Henry blew out an audible breath. “That Kim was pretty much a sex goddess, or some might call h
er a dominatrix. Lots of rumors flew around.”

  Bobby shrugged. “We don’t really care about her sexual preferences, unless it can—”

  “Help you find her killer. I know the routine, fellas,” Henry said, crossing his arms. “You might find this strange, but Kim and I never…uh, you know.”

  I nodded.

  “We were more friends that anything. But honestly, she began to change after we stopped dating. Her dress slowly became more provocative. Her whole look changed.”

  “Did she date anyone else in the office?”

  “Not sure. After she and I moved on, I focused on my career. You know me.”

  “Yes I do, buddy.” I put my hand on his shoulder.

  “Let me amend that a bit. I never really heard anything about her dating, per se. But people talked behind her back all the time. The girls were jealous, and the guys were either drooling over her or flat-out intimidated.”

  Henry shuffled his tennis shoe on the pavement.

  “You guys still want to visit her apartment?” Bobby said.

  “Henry, I can take over from here. Feel free to sit this one out. If you-know-who calls, I’ve got it.”

  “I want to know who did this. Let’s go.”

  Bobby led us up to the fourteenth floor. Kim’s condo was decked out like she was a pop culture diva. Leopard skin and black were on everything that wasn’t chrome, glass, or acrylic.

  “Feel free to look around, but you know the routine. Don’t touch,” he said.

  Men and women in rubber gloves were combing the condo, bagging evidence, taking prints.

  “Find anything of note yet?” I asked Bobby, who was speaking with a CSI tech.

  He paused for a second, and I wondered if I’d be forced to pull out my Get Out of Jail Free badge that Chief Ligon had given me.

  “I know you’re cool, Booker. Just don’t want to make this a habit. People talk, you know.”

  I nodded and kept moving, appreciative that Bobby was showing me some leniency. He had every right to throw me out on my ass.

  Within a couple of minutes, we all gravitated toward the opening to the balcony. It ran the full length of the condo.

  I asked, “Was the door open when your team got here?”

  “Yep.”

  “Blood anywhere?”