After straightening up his hair and running water on his face, he went back to the bedroom and taking a large hunting knife out of his pocket carefully pressed the knife into her hands several times. He then took it and hid it in her dresser drawer. The drawer had men’s boxer underwear in it, and he had to stifle a laugh. It figured.
He hid the knife under the boxer shorts and closed the door. He hid the wig between the mattresses. He checked her pulse once more, just to make sure she was dead. She was definitely dead he decided. Before leaving, he checked his face in the mirror once more. There was not much he could do about the scratch but his face was no longer flushed.
He slowly opened the front door and looked outside. No one was around that he could see. He watched the windows for a few minutes to see if anyone was looking out. It seemed there was always one nosey neighbor with too much time and too little to do. When he felt it was safe, he carefully wiped down the door handle on both sides and took off his gloves, placing them in his pocket. He used his shirt tail to shut the door and quickly went down the steps, onto the sidewalk and around the corner.
He had parked his car a block away so that no one would see it outside of Pratt’s house. A kid rode by on his bicycle but paid no attention to him. He climbed in the Lexus and slowly drove away. He had accomplished everything he had come to do and was quite proud of himself.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The detectives had just finished their meeting when the captain walked over.
“Sorry to bother you girls,” he said, “But it looks like your case is getting a lot more complicated.”
“Now what?” Logan asked.
“We just got a call from a student of Dr. Pratt at the University. It seems she had been trying to get in touch with her for the past three days and got no answer. She drove over and when she didn’t answer the door, she says she looked in the windows and saw Pratt on the bed but she couldn’t get her to wake up. She called the police from her cell phone,” he told them.
“She is dead?”
“Not sure. Why don’t you just trot your rears over there and see what is going on,” he suggested.
They all got up at once and headed for the stairs.
“All of you?” he yelled but they didn’t even take the time to answer.
They all crowded in to one car and off they went with lights flashing and siren blaring.
“Say, just curious but do we know where we are going?” Logan said looking over at Randy who was driving.
“I thought you knew” he said quickly.
“So happens I do. I checked her file, remember? Like you did. She lives at 5656 Lakeland Drive. That’s over in Speedway. Just about a half mile from the track,” he told him, referring to the Indianapolis 500 race track. Randy headed down 16th street until they came to Speedway.
“Turn left,” Logan said, "It’s the next street on your right. Someplace along in here.”
They passed a gas station and a few blocks later arrived at 5656 Lakeland. They all got out and went to the door. Logan knocked on the door but no one answered. He knocked again, but still no one answered.
“Go around and look in all the windows. See if you can see what the girl reported.”
A few minutes later Bull said, “She's in the back bedroom. She's lying across the bed but I doubt that anyone can sleep like that. It doesn’t look good.”
“Call it in Jonas. I don’t want anyone to touch the door. I’ll kick it in but don’t touch a thing. Ready?”
They all shook their heads as Jonas headed to the police car. Logan stood back a few feet and kicked at the door with the bottom of his foot. The door didn’t budge. He kicked again and it gave a little. Once more he kicked it but it still remained closed.
“Here,” Bull said, moving Logan out of the way and giving the door a mighty kick.
The door crashed open. Logan started to say something but then changed his mind.
“I know. You’re welcome,” Bull said.
“Actually, I was going to say now I know how you got your name. Bull in a china shop,” Logan said.
“Har, har, very funny. I only hear that from my wife about three times a day,” Bull replied.
Logan pulled his gun and the rest followed. They went from room to room before coming to the back bedroom. Dr. Elaine Pratt lay across the bed with her head down, hanging off the edge. Blood had settled in the lower half of her body. She had a purple tint to her face where it had hung down. The rest of her skin was ghost white. They didn’t need to check for a pulse. The smell alone told them all they needed to know.
“Christ, open the window,” Bull uttered.
“Don’t you dare. Don’t touch a damn thing,” Logan said, “I want you all to clear out. Have Jonas call the ME and get an ambulance over here to remove the body. Start getting the crime scene secured.”
They all left except Logan. He slipped on a pair of latex gloves and carefully looked Dr. Pratt’s body over. It was apparent to him that she had been choked to death. You could see the bruises where he killer’s hands had rested. A dark ring was visible most of the way around her neck. Her eyes bulged out as if trying to see in the dark. He lifted one of her arms and could see that she was past the rigor mortis stage. She had to have been dead for at least three days he figured.
He was just starting to poke around the room when the familiar voice said, “We have got to stop meeting like this.”
“I know. People will say we’re in love,” Logan replied as usual.
“Let em’ talk,” Myler replied.
“Looks dead to me, what do you think doc?”
“I would have to agree. Damn, you’re getting to be a regular Perry Mason. Still, I can’t go on carrying you much longer. Especially if you keep eating donuts,” Myler replied.
“Not fair. I’m a cop. It’s part of the job requirement,” Logan said.
“So, what’s your call?”
“Suffocation. Choked to death. Been here at least three days, maybe four,” Logan said.
Myler examined the body carefully. You would have thought she was alive; he was so gentle with her. He carefully picked up her arms, her head and went over her entire body.
“Three or four days. Not bad. She is still a little stiff so, considering the temperature, it is more like three days,” he said.
“Any other marks?”
“You mean other than the broken jaw?” Myler said.
“Damn,” Logan said.
“We can’t all be perfect. Looks like they hit her while trying to choke the life out of her. Crushed her larynx,” Myler said.
“Anything else?”
“Look at this,” he said, showing Logan the side of her face.
“Her jaw is broken but she must have put up a fight and so it became necessary to hit her,” Myler replied.
“Looks like it was done by a hand, not a blunt object,” Logan observed.
“Very good. My boy, there is hope for you after all. Just when I was about to throw in the towel.”
“Gosh, thanks Doc.”
Myler continued to examine the body while Logan started to investigate the room once more. While Myler was placing bags on her hands to preserve any scrapings under her fingernails Logan opened the dresser drawer where the men’s shorts were.
“She must have a boyfriend,” he muttered.
“Why do you say that?” Myler asked.
“Look at all these shorts,” he said, holding up a stack.
“No boyfriend, I suspect. She has them on herself.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
“What’s this?” he said, pulling a large hunting knife from the bottom of the drawer.
“Wicked blade,” Myler said.
“Now what would a nice lady like Dr. Pratt be doing with such a nasty instrument?” Logan asked.
“Peeling potatoes?”
“Not likely. I want you to see if you can match this up with Sharon Lewis’ beheading,” Logan said.
“Technically, sh
e wasn’t beheaded. Just damn close. I can do that. Just drop it off at my lab,” Myler replied. He continued to go over the room but didn’t find anything else of interest.
The crime scene team arrived and he turned over the investigation to them.
“I want everything dusted. Vacuum the bed, the floor and every other room in the house. Don’t leave a single area untouched,” he instructed the team.
“When you get the stuff to the lab, have them put a rush on it. I need to get some answers. We have someone out there killing University professors and students and that is going to create an even bigger stir. We need answers,” he said as he departed.
The captain was waiting for him when they arrived back at the station.
“Well?”
“She is dead all right,” Logan told him
“Christ. The press is going to have a field day with this. I can see tomorrow’s headlines already,” he lamented.
“It’s not like we have a random killer on the loose. Not in the typical serial killer mold,” Bull said.
“Like the press will care about that?” the captain scoffed. “To them it is just important to create an atmosphere of fear. Get the readers to hang on to the gospel according to them.”
“That’s a tad cynical,” Jonas said.
“You think so? You just wait until tomorrow. I guarantee you that it will be the lead story and every one of them will mention that they all have common elements.”
“Then why don’t we hold a press conference and let them know what we know so far?” Logan asked.
“It won’t do any good,” he said stubbornly.
“Can’t hurt much either,” Logan replied.
“Sure, fine. But you’re the one taking the questions. I’ll make the opening remarks then turn it over to you. You’ll be on the hot seat,” the captain said.
“No problem. I’ll keep it simple. Give them enough to keep it from turning it into a mass murderer lurking out in the University area, just waiting to knock off some poor student. One thing in our favor is that school is out for a week before the first summer session starts,” Logan said.
“That might work. That gives us a week to get this off the front page,” the captain said, heading back to his office.
“Three o’clock on the front steps,” he said as he went back into his office.
Logan looked at his watch. He had exactly one hour to collect his thoughts and try to come up with responses to the kind of dumb questions reporters always ask.
CHAPTER THIRTY- ONE
Thirty or so reporters with camera crews were crowded around the steps to the station. A podium and microphone were set in place. Logan and his team, along with the captain, came down the steps. Questions started before they even reached the podium.
“Please. Ladies and Gentlemen. I have a brief statement to make and then I will turn it over to Detective Logan who is heading up the investigation,” the captain said.
He waited for them to settle down before he pulled out a note card from his pocket.
“As you know, there have been two murders and a suicide in the past two weeks. It is important to note that there are no similarities in any of the deaths. We are not dealing with a serial killer as some of you have erroneously reported. Each is a separate case and we have no evidence to suggest otherwise. Detective Logan, whom most of you know, is heading up the investigations. It is important for me to repeat and you to report,” he said, looking at them for a second before going on, “That we are not dealing with a serial killer that is randomly attacking citizens of this city.”
He looked over at Logan and nodded his head. Logan stepped to the microphone.
“As of today, we know the following to be true. Sharon Lewis, age 24, from Muncie, Indiana, was a college student at the University and was murdered. The reason is not clear at this point but we do have a confession from a former lover which indicates that she might have had a hand in it and then committed suicide. All indications point to a romantic entanglement that went sour and lead to the murder of Sharon Lewis and the suicide of Adriane Thompson. She left behind a confession that we have determined was from her printer and computer. Yesterday’s murder of Dr. Elaine Pratt appears to be the work of a botched burglary. We suspect, at this point, that she came home when the burglar was already in the house and in the ensuing struggle, she was killed,” he told them.
The sun was beating down on them and Logan felt a trickle of sweat run down his cheek. Was it the heat or because he wasn’t exactly telling them the truth that was causing him to sweat, he wondered? Maybe a little of both.
“We have been able to gather a good deal of physical evidence from Dr. Pratt’s house and we feel confident that we will be able to solve this case in the near future. My associates, Detective Randy Nelson, Detective Jonas Harding, and Detective James Locker, affectionately known as Bull, because of his delicate nature,” he said, drawing a laugh from the reporters, “Have been working on these cases and realize the kind of panic they can cause the general public if not handled properly. That is why it is imperative for you to report accurately the nature of each of these incidents. As responsible journalists, I know you want to give the public accurate information and assist us in keeping this in perspective. Now, if you have any questions, I’ll try and answer them. But, most of you know how I operate by now. This will work better if I try to only answer one question at a time. You,” he said pointing to a female reporter.
“Was Pratt involved with Sharon Lewis and Adrian Thompson?”
Logan rubbed his face with his hand and looked down at her.
“I’m sorry. Maybe you got here late. I just said that the incidents of Sharon Lewis and Adrian Thompson are in no way related to Dr. Pratt. Next?”
“What was the official cause of death of Dr. Pratt?”
“Suffocation. She was essentially choked to death.”
“By a man?”
“We are assuming so at this time. Her jaw was broken in the struggle and the size of the markings indicates a man’s hands,” Logan said.
“They all were at the University weren’t they?” another reporter asked.
“No. Ms. Thompson was not a student. They were however all in the same city and same state and same country. It does not change the facts that Dr. Pratt’s murder is independent of the murder-suicide of Lewis and Thompson,” he said.
“Didn’t Dr. Pratt have Lewis in her class?” a reporter asked.
“Yes, she did, but that was almost two years ago. It is not a relevant consideration in this case,” Logan said.
The questions kept coming and he did his best to give them straight answers that would not trip him up later. He knew he was stretching the truth but he knew they couldn’t afford a city wide panic that some mad man was going around killing University students and professors. The University is very sensitive about their public image. The last thing they want is to be connected to a series of crimes.
“One last question,” he said.
“Have you closed the case file on Sharon Lewis and Thompson?” a female reporter asked. It was Carry Brown, the astute reporter who always asked the most direct and difficult questions.
“Not at this time. We are making sure all of the facts are in before we close the case officially,” he replied. Bad answer. If it was a simple murder-suicide they should have already closed the case. He knew it and so did the reporter who asked the question.
CHAPTER THIRTY-T WO
The smell of death, decay, and medicine filled the air as Logan watched the medical examiner start the Y incision on the body of Dr. Elaine Pratt. The extreme pallor of her skin seemed to blend into the stainless steel table. She was totally naked, no need for modesty here.
Myler methodically went about removing each of the organs and making running comments into a microphone just above the table. He was almost robotically in the way he went about the procedure. Logan just watched without interrupting or comment.
Once the cavity was checked,
the ME continued from head to toe, noting body markings, skin conditions and any other items of interest. He carefully removed skin found under her fingernails.
“Looks like we may have something here,” he said, more to himself than Logan.
He placed the scraping in a sterile petri dish and marked it. He found a small amount of blood under her nails as well. She had put up a fight and had managed to scratch the attacker he concluded.
Slowly he covered every inch of her body and when he was finished he prepared to remove Dr. Pratt’s brain. It was time for Logan to go. He could watch everything except that part. It made him squeamish when the doctor got out the saw and started to cut into the cranial cavity. The sound was almost as bad as the gore that followed.
“Let me know what you find,” Logan said, heading out the doors.
“Going for lunch?” Myler asked.
“Cute. You must be a real laugh at a mortician’s convention,” Logan replied.
He took off his mask and headed back to the station. The crime scene report was on his desk when he returned. They had found several items of interest and they were each enumerated in neat columns.
The wig they found caught his attention immediately. A detailed section about hair follicles also piqued his interest. They had found hair on the bed, carpet in the bedroom, and floor in the bathroom that did not appear to match the victim. For the first time, Logan felt like they may be catching a break. He called Myler to check on the autopsy findings.
“Well, you were here for the biggest part of it. We can get a DNA sample from the tissue under the fingernails but that won’t do much good without a match. You need to get a suspect rounded up, my boy,” Myler said.
“No problem. I’ll just pop over to the University and get a sample from everyone who works or attends there,” Logan joked.
“Uh-huh. Well from the crap you put out at the press conference, you had better get one from the whole city. Not related my butt,” Myler replied.
“I know. So did Carry Brown,” Logan lamented.
“So did everyone with half a brain, speaking of which, you did get that part right. Oxygen deprivation to the brain. She also partially swallowed her tongue, probably when she was getting hit.”
BLONDE DECEPTION - The Logan Files Page 12
