“How long can you hold him off while we take a look? We’ll treat it like a homicide, but skip the suits. We don’t want to upset him any more.”
“Scene’s been processed, but you’ll see. I got him for now.” Wiggins walked to the front door.
He stopped when Nelson spoke. “What was her name?”
“Heather Cleary. Her father is Ben.”
They walked into the garage. Chang nodded to the ambulance driver, who was waiting for permission to remove the body.
Chang saw the shape under a sheet and noted the open door on the driver’s side of the car. He could still smell the exhaust fumes, but the air was breathable. The garage looked compulsively tidy.
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Chang should have asked himself that question. The sight of a dead girl would evoke memories for both of them. Never mind. He’d let Jennifer Topper haunt him later.
When Nelson had had his breakdown in New York, the brass was all too happy to fix the blame on Chang. Anything to get a big shot like David Topper off their backs.
“Gotta be.” Nelson’s voice sounded distant.
He saw the puddle of oil on the floor. Chang lifted the sheet off the body and looked at the face last. He knew there wouldn’t be green eyes, but he was wrong. Chang saw braces and bright green eyes. The floor tilted under his feet, and he thought he would fall. He bit down on his tongue and clung to the pain. He swallowed every drop of blood and forced his face to freeze.
At the end of the Jennifer Topper case, Nelson obsessed on the victim photos and had realized that every murdered girl wore braces. Killer was an orthodontist’s assistant. A good catch, almost clever enough to save Jennifer…
The pain helped Chang refocus. They weren’t braces. He saw a tongue stud in this girl’s mouth. No metal bands. She had to be twenty, not a kid. Not anything anymore.
This girl’s cheeks bore the vivid cherry color that was a hallmark of carbon monoxide poisoning. Chang saw swelling, snapped on gloves, and lifted her head. He felt distinctive lumps on the side and back of her head. Lumps.
“Feel this.”
Nelson gloved up and put his fingers where Chang showed him. He whispered to the body. “You didn’t bounce off the floor a couple of times after you slipped on oil that came from a bottle all the way across the garage.”
Chang looked around the garage and needed to see no more to know that Wiggins and Nelson were correct. The girl was murdered.
CHAPTER 31
Flock Together
Dover, state police headquarters
Byrd sat in the empty conference room after Fargo finished his own impromptu post-meeting brief. His head pounded, and the aspirin remained stuck in his throat. The water seemed like too much trouble just now.
Should have known Spiker would try to set him up. Not too late to crimp those plans.
Patty knocked on the door glass, and the sound crashed into his skull.
“Colonel? If you’re finished in here, Sergeant Foley’s outside your office.”
About time. “Thank you, Patty. We’ll be a few minutes, so hold any calls.”
“Close it.” Byrd sat down and took a sip of water, which did nothing to dislodge the pills in his throat.
Foley got that hungry, expectant look Byrd had hated ever since Foley was a brat. Never mind, he’s loyal. All that counts in the end.
“What’s up, boss?”
“You didn’t think Spiker was up to any hardball, eh? Here’s a newsflash courtesy of Nick Fargo. He says Ms. Moral High Road sent Nancy Brand here to shanghai our favorite Asian detective so she can claim credit when they catch the nutcase we’re after.” Maybe Byrd would make that kid attorney general if all went well during the campaign.
“How do you figure? You hired him. He works for us.” Clyde Foley always was better at taking orders than thinking.
“God damn it, wise up! When we hired Chang, she swooped in and had Nancy Brand trot him out like a trained monkey. We couldn’t get any work out of him for two weeks while Spiker gloated over the new poster boy for diversity.” Foley’s face changed; Byrd got the whipped expression he wanted.
Bitch made it sound like it was her idea to hire him. Byrd swallowed. Pills felt like they were still there.
“Won’t you get the credit for catching the killer?” Foley brushed lint off his uniform.
“Not if she can help it. She’s going to let it slip that she pushed for that little freak, Rogers. Chang almost sold me. Christ, have you seen him? He’s supposed to be some genius.”
“Is he?”
“How should I know? He talks a good game. Maybe he is and maybe he isn’t, but I’ll tell you one thing he was right about.”
“Yeah?” Foley leaned on Byrd’s desk. He had that ambitious glint in his eye again. Good.
“We will solve the case with or without Rogers. Matter of fact, with or without Chang, which brings me to why you’re here.”
Foley stood straight. “Sir?”
“Sergeant, I’m not entirely convinced Detective Chang is up to the challenge of all the added pressure of a case like this.”
“No?” Foley’s hint of a smile told Byrd he followed.
“Keep a close eye on him. Watch for signs of stress, instability, and most of all, not playing by the rules. This is a big case. We can’t afford to blow it if we have one of our own guys break down. We’re a team.”
And I’m in charge.
CHAPTER 32
Flash
Nelson gently released the head, yanked off the latex gloves, and scratched his scalp with both hands. Chang covered the body.
Nelson squatted near the corpse. He stared into space, put his hands over his head, and rocked. He began to moan, then to chant.
Chang watched but said nothing and hoped Cleary wasn’t near the garage. Nelson had never gotten this loud before, but Chang didn’t want to break in. Soon he could make out the words of the chant.
“…beforeIwake…IfIshoulddiebeforeIwake…IfIshoulddiebeforeIwake!” Nelson jumped up and swayed. He started to stagger out of the garage. Chang moved to catch him, but Nelson leaned on the back of the BMW and bowed his head next to the paper tag.
“Are you all right?”
Nelson snapped upright and stared out the open garage door.
“Puja!” The sound echoed in the garage. Nelson said it again, even louder, this time at the paper tag. “Puja!?”
“Nelson?”
Nelson waved Chang off. “I’m fine.”
The ambulance driver got out of his unit and approached Nelson, who ignored him.
Chang followed.
“I have him,” Chang said over his shoulder to the driver. When he reached Nelson, he spoke to him in a low voice. “What?”
“In the car” Nelson never turned.
Chang did turn at the sound of a house door slamming. He saw Cleary gingerly step around his daughter and then storm out of the garage. Wiggins followed but made no move to stop him.
“What did he call her?” Cleary’s face turned purple.
Chang intercepted him and kept his body between Cleary and the car. “Nothing. I think you may have misheard.”
“I heard him shout something. What was it? Why does he need to yell? She can’t hear him.”
“Mr. Cleary, my partner means no disrespect.” Chang steered Cleary away from the car. Chang started with the truth. “He had to leave active duty because of a condition.”
“What’s that?”
“They think it’s a form of Tourette’s. He’s an unusually observant investigator, but as you have heard, his condition can present some difficulties.” Chang wished he didn’t have to make things up, but how could he give this man a rational explanation?
“They have medicine for that.”
“Yes, sir, sometimes he misses a dose.”
“What the hell is going on here?”
“We’re not certain Heather’s death was an accident.”
“Not suicide. She slipped
and fell.” The man’s face roiled with conflicting emotions. He grabbed Chang’s arm, and his fingers felt like bird claws. “Wait…You mean murder? No one killed my Heather.”
“Mr. Cleary, we owe it to your daughter to find the truth.”
Cleary’s added confusion made Chang wish he didn’t have to fib.
He pointed at Nelson in the cruiser. “Keep him away from my daughter.”
“Of course.” Whatever Nelson was going to see already happened.
Cleary turned toward the house, and Chang glared at Wiggins. The big trooper’s shrug told him he did all he could to delay Cleary, short of physical restraint.
Chang climbed into the driver’s seat of the car and didn’t speak. Inside, Nelson scribbled on a pad. Chang turned around, and Nelson stared with a pinwheel look in his eyes.
“Know what’s funny about lemons? Puja, that’s what! Our guy was making a joke with the lemon on Patel, and it was about puja! I know what he does for a living!”
“Slow down! Tell me who ‘Puja’ is.” Chang grabbed Nelson’s shoulders and shook him. Bird bones.
Nelson’s head bobbled like a doll, and he finally met Chang’s gaze. He spoke in a more coherent tone.
“Not who, but what. Puja is part of Hinduism. One aspect involves blessing mechanical items against bad influences. Used for household items. Blenders, ovens, and especially new cars!” Nelson grinned until he looked like a skull with a wig.
Chang tapped his reserves of patience. “Start with the bricks, then build me a wall.”
“Okay, Hindus have blessing ceremonies for their cars for good luck. Sprinkle holy water and rice. Done by a priest called a pujari. End of the ritual is to place a lemon under each tire and run them over. Mr. Patel was a Hindu. The only Hindu, but I bet he shared something else with every victim.”
Chang felt a gate swing open in his head. He looked out the window at the back of the BMW and stared at the T-tag. “You mean?”
“Picture the back of Midori’s little car, with the footprints—try to remember.”
“It was one of those new environmental type cars, and he’d just bought it…Hey!”
“Exactly. Another T-tag. Remember the shiny car in the Hubberts’ driveway? Also a new car, I’m sure of it.” Nelson had that giddy voice again.
“I think the Nguyens’ son mentioned that his parents had just bought a car for the first time in about ten years,” Chang said.
Nelson’s words almost merged, and Chang thought of an engine at redline. “Want to bet Mr. Patel just bought one?”
Chang faced the front of the car. “Let’s say that the common link between all the victims so far is that they bought a new car. What kind of car and from where?”
“Midori bought a Honda Insight; the Hubberts I think bought a Honda Accord. Do you remember what the Nguyens’ son said they bought?”
“It might have been a Honda, too. This car is a Beamer. What else did you learn in the garage?” Chang twisted in the seat to face Nelson again.
“Obvious homicide. It was our guy, and this wasn’t even a good fake.”
Chang nodded. “You can tell from the lumps on her head she was hit multiple times, and the oil on the floor is after the fact. An owner who keeps the floors that clean would never leave a big oil puddle anywhere.” Chang could feel the harmony with his partner’s thoughts. “Amateur hour.”
“Wiggins said no prints at all on the key, and I didn’t see any gloves on her.” Nelson doodled on the pad.
“No. But her father wants to believe it was an accident.”
Nelson retraced his design repeatedly, and the pen tore through the top sheet. “Our killer is in the car business. That’s the connection between victims. You’ll see. The Nguyens and Patel will fit the pattern.”
“I want to ease Mr. Cleary into the idea that this wasn’t an accident, maybe let him sleep on it and try tomorrow to get his cooperation with a credit report. Do you think we’ll lose anything by waiting a day?” Chang glanced out the window. They’d been a day late with Jennifer.
Nelson’s breakthrough about orthodontists ended up getting delayed by red tape. They couldn’t obtain the necessary search warrant for personnel records, and by the time they did and knew who to look for, Jennifer was dead.
“It would take that long to go over Cleary’s head with a warrant, anyway,” Nelson pointed out.
“You’re right. Stay here. This is a crime scene now. We wouldn’t want to upset the colonel.” Chang got out of the car and walked back to the large house. Cleary stood with Wiggins on the front walkway.
“Mr. Cleary, we have everything we need for now. Is there a number where I can reach you tomorrow? I may have a couple follow-up questions.”
Cleary appeared numb. He handed Chang a card. “You can reach me there, and the home number is on it, too.”
“Thank you. By the way, I have to ask this. Your daughter didn’t know anyone who might want to do her harm, did she?” Take advantage of Cleary’s shock; he might close up later.
“Why would someone want to hurt my little girl?”
“Whenever there’s an open investigation, we check every possibility. I’m very sorry for your loss. We can talk in the morning if that’s better.”
He spoke in a monotone. “Sure, I guess.”
When Cleary was inside, Chang turned to Wiggins. “Thanks again for the heads-up. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I call them like I see them. That’s my job.” He lowered his voice. “Be careful. The brass has their ears on. I can’t say too much.”
Chang wasn’t surprised. “You did plenty.”
“That little guy has some kind of gift, doesn’t he?”
“Something.” Chang nodded.
“Word is, he’s not welcome at any murder scenes. Be careful.” Wiggins whispered.
“Don’t mumble, Wiggins, I have no idea what you just said…and thanks.”
On the way to the car, the ambulance driver stepped in front of Chang. “Does it look like a murder after all?”
“They’ll let you know when they’re ready for you.” Chang brushed past and returned to the cruiser.
“We still have time to get to our notes and try to catch up with the Nguyens’ son and maybe one of Mr. Patel’s relatives,” Chang said, feeling the blood pump.
“If we learn what I think we will, we have a busy evening ahead.”
CHAPTER 33
When Life Gives You Lemons
Greenville, noon Monday
“Freebird!” Shamus shouted along with the soundtrack. The opening piano chords resounded in his small apartment. He sat at the kitchen table in his favorite boxer shorts and held the unloaded revolver. He liked this pair because they sported smiley faces and “Have a nice day!” encircled the elastic waistband. What a morning. Time for some mental dessert before work.
The song was the same, but this time he relived the thrill of taking down Patel, that grinding, maddening Indian.
What a rush! Fantastic. He wished he’d kept the security tape, but obviously that was out of the question. No problem, he wouldn’t forget that experience anytime soon.
He swayed to the music and recalled how Patel had battered him during negotiations over a baseline Civic. The images played across his mind, and Shamus acted out Patel’s pathetic protestations.
“Oh, no, no, no. I must have your best price. You can do better than that. I know. My cousin just bought the same car from Honda in New Jersey. I will pay you this.” Shamus was proud of his imitation.
“You give me a good price, and I will bring my friends. You will sell many cars.” All the Indians said that.
Shamus played with the lemons he kept in a bowl on the table. He wagged his finger just like Patel had.
“I don’t want to play any more games. You go back to your man and come back with your best price, you know, or I am leaving. Tell him no more bullshit.” It came out “booolshit.”
Jake ripped into him. Shamus adopted Jake’s rapi
d tone. “I need a closer, not an order taker!” Spittle flew from his mouth.
Shamus could still see the face clearly. The way Patel just started laughing. “I know you make plenty of money on this car. Okay, I go to Marlo and maybe they give me a good price.” Shamus stood. The music filled the room.
Mr. Patel wouldn’t need the free oil change Marlo threw in.
And his plan. So simple, so elegant. Hit him at work. Patel’s home crawled with Indians day and night.
He’d known he needed to be quick because convenience store customers pop in at any time. He’d driven to the 7-Eleven around three in the morning.
When he’d yanked the door open, the tired-looking Indian reacted immediately. He spotted the chrome, snub-nosed revolver, and Shamus could tell Patel figured he was being robbed. Occupational hazard, right? An instant later his face registered recognition. At least their time together had left an impression.
Shamus shouted, “Best price!” in his finest Indian accent and fired away. More kick than the .22 and louder. Patel dropped like a marionette with his strings cut. Shamus remembered the electric thrill through his body that left him tingling. In that instant, he saw the lemon and had a moment of inspiration.
Shamus had seen Indian customers perform some sort of strange ceremony when they bought a car. It involved putting lemons under the tires of a new car and squashing them. He could still see the lifeless upturned face. Blood streamed out of the head. He raised his arm and brought the lemon down with all his strength onto the dead man’s nose.
He’d watched the juice run down Patel’s cheeks and mingle with the blood. He opened the cash register and cleaned it out. Made money off this guy after all.
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