by D P Lyle
That made sense on some level. The killer was smart. That was a given. He was skilled. Surgically, anyway. But maybe he was physically weak or socially inept. Wouldn’t be the first serial killer to have such deficiencies. Perhaps Eddie and Alejandro were the hunters. The trashmen. The question was: for who?
I asked T-Tommy, “How many active missing persons cases do you guys have right now?”
“Don’t know the exact number. I’d say a hundred and fifty or more.”
“How many prostitutes you guess?”
“No way to know. Many aren’t even reported. Most aren’t really missing. Maybe hiding from someone or some situation. Parents, marriage, whatever. Some go home to try to fix things that can’t be fixed. Others head to another city to work for a while. Most often they turn up.”
“Except for the ones buried in the woods,” Claire said.
“Maybe our guy isn’t just shy,” I said. “Maybe he has some physical defect that would make him stand out. Something memorable. So he gets Eddie and Alejandro to grab victims for him.”
“What kind of defect?” Claire asked.
“Could be anything. A facial scar. A missing limb. A speech defect. Like David Carpenter.”
“Who’s that?” Claire asked.
“The Trailside Killer. Thirty or so years ago. Out in California. San Francisco area. The victims had all been hiking. John Douglas of the BSU did the profile. Told the local PD that the killer had some defect, but not one that would be obvious since none of the people who frequented the trails noticed anything. He suspected that the killer stuttered or had some other speech impediment. Couldn’t sweet-talk his victims. Rather he would use a blitz attack to overpower them. When Carpenter was captured, he did indeed stutter.”
“I guess our guy could look odd or have some noticeable physical problem,” T-Tommy said. “Maybe a limp or one of those purple things Gorbachev had on his face.”
“A nevus flammeus,” I said. “Port-wine stain. It’s a birthmark.”
“You’re thinking that Alejandro and Eddie are body snatchers for the sicko that’s doing this?” T-Tommy asked.
“If so, Alejandro can identify him.”
“If we can find Alejandro,” T-Tommy said.
“Maybe his connection to Talbert will lead somewhere,” Claire said.
“Let’s hope.” T-Tommy stood. “Time to head over to Maple Hill.”
CHAPTER 54
SUNDAY 4:53 P.M.
THE OLDEST AND LARGEST CEMETERY IN THE STATE, MAPLE HILL WAS the final resting place of nearly one hundred thousand souls. Its gently rolling terrain, winding paths, and hand-carved headstones were shaded by trees of many sizes and varieties. There were simple, flat grave markers, elaborate headstones, huge crosses and statuary, a mausoleum or two, and even a section for the Civil War dead. Its parklike atmosphere attracted those looking for a quiet place to walk or contemplate as well as visit the dead.
Today it wasn’t quiet. A crowd had gathered. Nothing like death to attract flies.
I leaned against the stone wall that surrounded Maple Hill near the McClung Avenue entrance, talking with Claire. The bodies had been excavated and carted off to the Department of Forensic Sciences. Claire had finished her on-site filming, and Jeffrey was loading his camera gear into the Channel 8 truck.
T-Tommy came from a cluster of HPD uniforms toward us. “Got the scoop on Talbert and Reinhardt. Talbert Biomedical was founded in 1998 by Harmon Talbert, the current CEO, and Dr. Robert Kincaid, the medical research director. It’s a two-hundred-million-dollar company. Privately held.”
I whistled. “Which makes Talbert and Kincaid very rich men.”
“Looks like Mr. Talbert has started and sold several companies in his career. Most recently a surgical supply house. In Philadelphia. Sold it in ‘97 right before starting Talbert Biomedical. According to his company bio, Dr. Robert Kincaid practiced general surgery in Chicago for twenty years. Cook County Hospital. Professor of surgery. Research director. Bunch of honors.”
“So, they probably hooked up through business connections, one making surgical instruments, the other using them, and moved here for their new venture,” I said.
“Land and construction costs, taxes, unions. Lots of companies are moving here to avoid all that.” T-Tommy opened his notebook. “Here’s an odd little tidbit you’re going to love. Talbert has a contract with a company called Gulf Coast Anatomical Supply. They purchased twenty-seven cadavers from them last year. Twelve so far this year.”
“Why would Talbert need corpses?” Claire asked.
“I’d suspect to help design new surgical instruments,” I said. “Medical schools and medical equipment designers purchase a bunch each year. If you just need a head or an arm, you can get that, too. Burn centers buy skin from these outfits. Even auto manufacturers sometimes use real corpses instead of dummies for their crash tests.”
“You’re kidding,” Claire said.
“No,” T-Tommy said. “He’s not. West Coast Anatomical’s client list includes two car companies.”
“Pretty morbid,” Claire said. “I don’t like the mental image of somebody’s uncle Joe flying through the windshield of some goofy-looking concept car.”
I laughed and then asked T-Tommy, “You think Talbert hooked up with Reinhardt in Chicago?”
“Good bet.”
“What do you have on Reinhardt?”
“Chicago native. Master’s in criminology from Northwestern. Chicago PD for ten years. Started Sentinel Security in 1994. Apparently joined Talbert in 2000.”
“Criminal record?” Claire asked.
“Not even a parking ticket.”
Claire glanced at her watch. “Got to get to the station and slap on a face before my six o’clock report.”
“Maybe come by later?” I asked.
She laughed. “Feeling a little stressed?”
“Been a while.”
Claire and I had been divorced for a decade. Though we couldn’t hang under the same roof, the sex was always good, and we still played that game from time to time.
“I’ve got a cocktail reception to go to. Should be done by ten, maybe eleven. Think you can survive that long?”
“Should I pour a bucket of water on you two?” T-Tommy said.
“Funny.” I looked at Claire. “See you then.”
“I’m out of here.” She headed to her car.
My cell phone rang. I recognized the displayed number as Ellie Elliott’s. I had called earlier and left a message. “Thanks for calling back,” I said. “Heard anything from Alejandro?”
“No.”
“I have a few more questions about him. Would it be okay if we came by? It’ll only take a few minutes.” She hesitated.
“It could be important,” I said.
Ellie sighed. “I just got home. Been a hell of a day.”
“I know. I wouldn’t bother you if I didn’t think it was important.”
She hesitated again and then said, “Give me an hour.”
CHAPTER 55
SUNDAY 6:30 P.M.
ELLIE ELLIOTT OPENED THE DOOR TO MY KNOCK AND LED T-TOMMY and me into her living room. She appeared tired but not as distraught as she had been last night. She wore gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt. We sat on a floral sofa, while she curled up into a blue wingback chair, a longneck PBR in her hand. She didn’t offer us one, indicating the meeting would be short.
We had decided to keep it simple. Ask our questions and get out. No need to tell her everything. Unless it was absolutely necessary to get her to talk. If we did and Ellie leaked it, Furyk would have a fit if we were the source. T-Tommy would pay the price.
Before I could get out a question Ellie got right to it. “Did Alejandro kill Eddie?”
“It’s possible,” I said. “But I don’t think so.”
“Then who did?”
“Don’t know.”
She took a swig of beer, swallowing hard. “Then why are you looking for Alejandro?”
“From whoever killed Eddie?”
“That’s one possibility.”
“And the other possibilities?” Ellie asked.
“The bodies of two girls were found buried outside the city,” T-Tommy said. “In an isolated wooded area. Murdered. Your brother’s fingerprints were discovered at the burial site.”
Her eyes widened. “My brother? You think my brother is a killer? Who the hell do you—?”
I raised a hand. “Relax. We don’t believe your brother killed anyone. We do believe he buried the bodies, though. We believe Alejandro was involved, too.”
Ellie put the beer on the table next to her chair. Her shoulders sagged. “Jesus.”
“Tell me about Alejandro,” I said. “Did he ever work in the medical industry?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Maybe nothing,” I said. “Not that I know.”
“What about for a vet or in a lab of some kind?”
“Alejandro isn’t that smart. Thinks he is sometimes, but he’s not.”
“Not a science whiz?” T-Tommy asked.
She snorted. “You might say that.”
“Never said he liked to cut up frogs as a kid? Anything like that?”
“What’s this about?”
“Did he ever mention a place called Talbert Biomedical?” I asked. “No. Never heard that.”
“What about a Dr. Robert Kincaid or a guy named Karl Reinhardt?” T-Tommy asked.
“I heard Eddie use Reinhardt’s name once. While on the phone. I didn’t know who he was talking to. Probably Alejandro. Don’t remember him using the name Karl. Just Reinhardt. Kind of an unusual name.”
“When was that?” I asked.
“Two weeks ago. Maybe three.”
“What did he say about Reinhardt?”
Ellie shrugged. “Nothing. Not that I heard, anyway. I just remember the name.”
“Ever see Alejandro or Eddie with any tools or surgical instruments?” I said.
Her eyes moistened. “What the hell is this about? I’m not saying another word until I know what’s going on.”
She deserved at least that. I glanced at T-Tommy, who offered a slight nod.
“This goes no further than right here,” I said. “You tell anyone and the HPD will be up all our asses. All of us. Understand?”
She nodded.
“You watch the news tonight?”
Ellie shook her head.
“The girls?” I said. “The two I mentioned? They aren’t the only ones. There are a couple of dozen other bodies. Buried all around the city.”
She blinked back tears and sniffed. “This is unbelievable.”
“It looks like each of them had had surgery. Highly technical surgery.”
“You think Eddie and Alejandro did it?” Another quick laugh escaped her lips. “I loved my brother, but he was an idiot.” She picked up her beer and took a gulp. Then another. “He was smart on some levels, but overall he was a loser. I know that. I tried to help him, but the only thing he excelled at was being a punk. Same for Alejandro. We were hot and heavy for about six months. A year or two back. It was never going anywhere. Alejandro was never going anywhere.”
I suspected we could eliminate Eddie and Alejandro as the killers. No real surprise there. “Did either of them ever mention a nurse, a paramedic, or maybe a military medic?”
“No. You know Alejandro was a Marine?”
I nodded. “He wasn’t a medic, was he?”
“A grunt. A down-in-the-dirt grunt.”
I looked at T-Tommy. “I guess that’s all the questions we have.”
“Do the police have any suspects?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
Ellie walked us to the door. We thanked her and apologized for bothering her. Halfway down the walkway, I glanced back as Ellie closed her door. I heard her flip the lock into place. In the window of the apartment above hers, the curtain parted and a face appeared. Looked like an elderly woman, but I couldn’t be sure. There was one in every neighborhood. The one nothing got by. I waved to her and headed for my Porsche.
Almost made it. A black Lincoln with blacked-out windows pulled to the curb. Austin and Lefty stepped out.
“What can we do for you two?” I asked.
“Boss wants to see you.”
“About what?”
“You’ll have to ask him.” Austin twisted one fist into the palm of his other hand. His forearm muscles popped to life. “Follow us.”
“We know the way.”
CHAPTER 56
SUNDAY 7:29 P.M.
HIGH ROLLERS WAS PACKED, PROVING YET AGAIN THAT PEOPLE THINK about sex every day. Even the Lord’s Day. The music thrummed against my chest as we climbed the stairs to Rocco’s office. When T-Tommy reached for the door, the meat standing guard put a palm on T-Tommy’s chest. Not a wise move. T-Tommy grabbed a handful of fingers and twisted them into an unnatural and what appeared to be a very painful position.
“You want your fingers back?” T-Tommy asked.
The man glared at him.
“Fuck with me I’ll do this to your throat.” T-Tommy torqued the man’s fingers backward, dropping him to one knee. “That’s better.”
T-Tommy released his grip, and we entered Rocco’s office.
Rocco looked up, surprise on his face, a chewed cigar in the corner of his mouth. An empty pizza box was on his desk.
“You didn’t save us any?” I said. “T-Tommy’s hungry.”
“Told you we shoulda stopped,” T-Tommy said.
Rocco tugged the dead cigar from his mouth. “Where’s Lefty and Austin?”
“They’ll be along,” I said.
The door swung open, and Austin and Lefty came in.
“What’d I tell you,” I said.
“Thought you guys were bringing pizza,” T-Tommy said. “Haven’t eaten since lunch.”
Austin started to say something, but Rocco waved him into silence. He nodded toward the chairs that faced his desk. “Have a seat.” He glanced at Lefty. “You guys wait outside.”
Austin muttered something I didn’t catch as he and Lefty headed out the door. T-Tommy and I sat down.
“You two are starting to piss me off,” Rocco said.
“We don’t mean to,” I said.
“But we do hear that a lot,” T-Tommy added.
Rocco clamped the cigar butt between his teeth, snatched a lighter from beneath the pizza box, and lit it. He gave it a couple of puffs. The end glowed red, and smoke swirled toward the ceiling. “What are you guys up to?”
“Looking for one of your employees. Alejandro Diaz.”
“Never heard of him.”
I leaned forward, forearms on knees. “We can fuck around, or we can get to it. I don’t care which. We’re not guessing here. We know Alejandro works for you.”
“What if he does?”
“We’re looking for him.”
“Mind if I ask why?”
“You can ask.”
“You guys may not be as clever as you think you are,” Rocco said.
“Then again,” I said, “we just might be.”
Rocco blew smoke from the side of his mouth. “Let me make this as clear as I can. I don’t want you two fucking around with my people.”
“Just tell us where we can find Alejandro.”
Rocco smiled. “Funny, I wanted to ask you the same thing. You guys are hot shit. Thought you might know where he is.”
I smiled, too. “Wouldn’t be here in this shit hole if we did.”
Rocco’s smile evaporated, and for an instant his eyes turned cold, and then just as quickly his face softened and the smile returned. A bit forced this time. He leaned back in his chair and scratched at one ear. “Don’t know. Fired him a couple of months ago. Haven’t seen him since.”
“Then why has he called here so often in the last two months? The last time was . . .” I looked at T-Tommy.
“Didn’t talk to me. Maybe he has the hots for one of my girls.”
T-Tommy grunted. “That why you’re still paying him? To entertain your girls?”
“I’m not.”
“I’m disappointed,” I said. “Thought you’d be clever enough not to leave a paper trail.”
“Don’t know what you mean.”
“You write a check, Alejandro dumps it into his account, there’s a record.”
“Must be part of his severance package,” Rocco said. “I’ll have to check with my accounting people.”
“Somehow I figure you’re the accounting department,” I said. “You ain’t the type to let someone else watch the money.”
Rocco shrugged. “Why are you looking for Alejandro?”
“Nothing big, just a few questions,” I said.
“About?”
“Told you. We’re looking for whoever killed Noel Edwards and your employee Crystal. And a couple dozen others.”
Rocco aimed a cloud of smoke at me. “You think Alejandro might be that guy?”
I ignored the smoke. Wouldn’t give him anything. “Don’t know. But his friend Eddie Elliott is involved.”
“Then why don’t you talk to this Eddie guy?”
“We tried. Didn’t have much to say. Being dead and all.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
I smiled. “Was that his severance package?”
Rocco’s teeth ground the cigar butt. “I don’t know anyone named Eddie.”
“Is that why your two clowns were outside his sister’s house?”
“They were following you.”
“We’re flattered,” I said.
“Makes me all warm inside to know you care,” T-Tommy said. “It truly does.”
“So why are your two lapdogs sniffing around us?” I asked.
“To invite you here. For this little chat.”
“Okay,” I said. “Chat away.”
“What’s with you two? You come here looking for a hooker. She turns up dead. End of story.”
I shook my head. “Beginning of story. We still haven’t found the guy who did it.”
“So I’ll ask again. You think Alejandro is the killer?” Rocco said.
