Chapter 12
SHAW cracked open his eyes to the sound of hip-hop music coming from the speakers of the motel alarm. He couldn’t remember the bed at the motel having a mosquito net when he fell asleep. But then he couldn’t remember falling asleep, or setting the alarm, and besides, there wasn’t a net. It was how his surroundings always looked when he first opened his eyes in the morning. He fumbled with the knobs on the headboard, turning on the bedside lamps in error, before managing to locate the one that switched off the alarm. He dropped his head on the pillow, then turned to look at the nightstand for his wristwatch. Reaching out, he grabbed his watch, knocking over an empty JD bottle.
Shaw threw the cover to one side, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and sat. His tongue tasted crap, and his head throbbed. The room smelled of damp, but then he thought it was cheap and available, and besides, he had no one to please. Shaw looked at the hands on his watch. It could have been eight thirty, or twenty to six. His eyes wouldn’t focus. He rose to his feet, then walked unsteadily over to the window, and peeked through the curtains. He decided it was eight thirty, judging by the light, and the heavy traffic on the highway.
He picked up his toiletries from his night bag, dropped his boxers, and stepping out of them, he headed for the bathroom. After showering and shaving, he brushed his teeth. The taste of mint made him want to vomit. He ducked his head under the tap water and rinsed away the paste.
With a clean change of clothes, he headed outside, dropped the key off at the reception, and headed for the burger van. He stopped to unlock the van door. Recalling dropping the body off at the morgue, it seemed like a distant dream as he climbed into his seat. Shaw had things to do, people to see, places to go, but before he could decide the order of his journey, he needed coffee. Strong-black coffee. He knew just the place.
Shaw picked up Ventura Boulevard, turning left at Staples on the corner, and parked up outside the diner. Climbing out of the van, he walked over to the two converted Union Pacific carriages. He stepped inside and took a seat at a table. Shaw glanced around. He didn’t recognize any of the staff. There was no welcome for an old regular. The server approached him, notebook in hand.
“What’ll it be,” she asked.
“A strong coffee, espresso style, but in a mug, and I’ll have a chili dog.”
“Surprised you don’t make your own,” she said, and looked out of the window toward his van.
“Oh, that. Long story. It’s not mine. Can you bring the coffee first, please?”
“Sure, hon,” she said, and hurried off.
Shaw took his cell phone from his pocked and switched it on. His phone buzzed. Ten missed calls from Jim. He called his number and Jim answered.
“Where are you, Brett? When are you back? It’s all gone to crap in a clothes basket up here.”
“Slow down. Start at the beginning.”
“You need to cancel the forensics investigation for a start. There’s nothing left for him to investigate. The surgery’s burned down.”
Shaw pushed back in his chair.
“What! When did this happen?”
“Around five thirty this morning. The forestry fire investigator is sending you a report. He says its arson.”
Shaw rolled his eyes and sighed.
“Who was on watch?”
“Frank, but don’t blame him. Whoever did it blindsided him from the direction of the woods.”
Shaw rested his elbow on the table, and closed his eyes, the cell phone still to his ear.
“Your coffee,” the woman said.
“Thanks,” he said, opening his eyes, and making a feeble attempt to return the server’s smile. He picked up his mug and took a sip.
“Did one of you check on Amy?”
“Amy’s back. That’s one of the other problems.”
“Problems! What about Amy?”
“Amy’s fine, she’s with Louise and Tanya upstairs in your apartment. The problem is Johno. He’s gone missing over at Brakes Lake in the mountains. Ed Grimes has organized a search party. They’re over there now with Frank. But that’s not all...”
“Thank God she’s safe. Go on then, what else?”
“It’s the television crews. They’re swarming all over town. I don’t know what to say to them and they’re lined up outside our office. I‘ve had to lock the door.”
“Well, you’d expect that. I’m just surprised they got wind of the vet’s death so quickly. What are they asking?”
“It’s not as much what they’re asking, as what they’re saying on camera.”
“Like what?”
“I hope you’re ready for this.”
Shaw took a long swig of his coffee.
“Fire away.”
“They’re saying, according to the mayor, a wild animal is on the loose, and it killed the vet. They say you’ve refused to sanction a hunting party when the tourist season is in full swing. Then they’re reporting locals as saying you’ve gone to LA, leaving a rooky deputy to guard the scene of the vet’s surgery. They’re saying it shows incompetence on your part that the vet’s house has been destroyed in a fire, along with any clues.”
“Jesus, is that it all?”
“Well, no. There’s more. I saw them interviewing Hogan the butcher. He was blasting you for not telling him that you were using his refrigerator in the burger van to transport Maria’s body to the morgue. The reporter was really banging on about that. Hogan was saying he was consulting attorneys to sue for a new vehicle. They were also saying that many of the locals they’ve spoken to have said that they hope the mayor calls for a vote to get you out.”
“Oh, no, and all that’s on camera?”
“Yup, afraid so. What do you want me to say to them?”
“Tell them I’ll be back around four and I’ll make a statement. Just say no comment to any other questions. Damn it, someone’s stirring them and I think I know who it is. Let Amy know what time I’ll be back.”
“Will do. Incidentally, Brett, it could be a feral dog that attacked the vet. Amy said she met with some hunters over at the lake. They were tracking the dog after it had been taking their goats. It sounds like the same guys who helped to move the stag off of the road.”
“Listen Jim, all this is info overload. I’ll see you around four o’clock and we’ll talk about it then.”
Shaw put his cell phone on the table, then held his head in his hands.
“One chili dog as ordered, enjoy,” said the server. She poured more coffee. “You look troubled. Is everything okay?”
“Bad day at the office as they say.” Shaw pushed the plate with the chili dog to one side.
He didn’t ask her, but she sat down opposite.
“Lost your appetite?”
“Yeah, and I was looking forward to the chili dog. It’s a little over six years since I last had one here.”
“What, passing through?”
“No, I used to live and work in LA.”
“Where do you live now?”
“Breakers Pass.”
“I know the town, it’s pretty up there.”
“I guess. I’d prefer it if I was back here.”
“What made you move up there?”
“My wife died, and I needed a slower pace of life to look after my daughter.”
“Sorry.”
“No need.”
“Married again?”
“No, single.”
“Try drinking your coffee, you never know, your appetite could return,” she said, and winked. The woman inched off the bench, then walked away to attend another table.”
The brief exchange had settled his mind from exploding, but maybe she knew that. Maybe she was working it for her tip. Shaw picked up his cell phone and dialed homicide headquarters. The receptionist answered.
“Sheriff Brett Shaw. I need to get hold of John Bateman. He works in crime scene investigation. I need to speak with him urgently.”
“Please hold, sir.” Shaw sipped at his
coffee as he waited, his mind rolling over events back home. “Sorry, sir, he’s not in the office. I’ve contacted him and given him your number from the one on my screen. He said he’ll call right back.”
Shaw had no sooner closed the call than his phone rang.”
“Hi, Brett, I was just getting ready to head up to Breakers Pass.”
“Forget it, there’s nothing to investigate. The surgery has been destroyed in an arson attack. I’m in LA. Could we meet, only have the photographs and some other items I need checking. Can you bring a laptop?”
“Sure. Where are you?”
“Over at Ventura. I’m at the chili dog diner next to Staples.”
“I know the one. Give me twenty minutes.”
Shaw closed the call, picked up his chili dog and took a bite. He looked over at the server. She was sitting on a stool at the counter, glancing his way, and gave him a thumbs-up sign. His mind fixed on what Ed Grimes had said to the reporter. Someone must have alerted the media for them to arrive so quickly. It could have been Grimes. He knew that Grimes saw him drive off in Hogan’s burger van to drive to LA. Grimes knew he was transporting Maria’s body. Why alert them about the wild animal before an autopsy, and his investigations had proved what happened to cause her death? It would hurt the town. It would hurt his bar if tourists stayed away. Grimes was diverting attention from the arson attack... why? If his hunch was right, he knew the answer. As for the rest, the town could go to hell. He knew his contract called for three months’ notice of an election. Amy would be settled at university by then. He could move on. He needed to move on.
A car drove into a parking space next to the burger van. Bateman appeared. His hair was grayer. He’d gained a beer belly. Shaw greeted him at the table and shook his hand.
“Sounds like you’re having fun up there,” said Bateman.
“You could say that. Coffee?”
“Yeah.” He opened his bag and put the laptop on the table.
Shaw signaled his server, ordered the coffee, then went to the van for his case. He returned, and handed Bateman a plastic bag.
“The vet’s nightdress. They removed it at the morgue.”
“Good, I’ll check it out. What else have you got?”
Shaw took a seat next to him. He unfastened his case and took out his camera, and a download lead. Bateman connected it to his laptop. Shaw looked around; making sure no one would see the screen. Bateman shuffled through the images, then closed the lid on his computer.
“What are your thoughts,” Shaw asked.
“Whatever, or whoever it was, they’ve done a number on her. Looking at the images as a whole, I’d say it was some kind of animal. But it doesn’t add up. Wild animals kill for food usually, or when guarding territory. For dog attacks, I usually see numerous bite marks on the body. This one’s just gone for the pleasure of the kill. The bare footprints show that someone was at the scene. It’s no good speculating, we need to see what the autopsy shows.”
“What about the tracks? I have a tracker who says they belong to a dog?”
“Looking at the measurements, it’s one hell of a size if it is a dog. I could send the images to the FBI. They’ll have a database. Maybe they can identify the breed. You know what the injuries remind me of?”
“The Bullmastiff!” Shaw replied.
“You noticed then. At least it’s not my imagination. A wolf has a bite pressure of fourteen-hundred pounds, but even a wolf would have difficulty mashing the vertebrae like that.”
“Whatever happened to the investigation on those missing girls? After I resigned and moved to Breakers Pass, any phone calls I made, the department stonewalled me.”
“Not a clue. The FBI took the file and deleted my computer record. All the DNA tests were diverted, so I never got the results. You know how it is. Another day, another case.”
“Anyway thanks, John. I need to be going. If you can send me the report when you’re done, I’ll take it from there.” Shaw signaled the server for the check. “Wait, there is something else. I have a letter here somewhere I need it checking for prints.” Shaw fished in his case and handed him the application letter Grimes had given him.
“Sure. Same case?”
“Yeah, a possible suspect, or at least the prints could have placed someone the scene if I could have also matched them with the footprints. But the fire has foiled any chance of that. Still, better to have them than not.”
Bateman shook his hand, picked up his laptop, and then set off to his car.
“Your check,” said the server, then she walked away.
Shaw paid the bill and left a tip, tearing off his receipt. He made his way to the van and put the receipt on the dash. He picked it back up. Scrawled on the back in Biro was a phone number, and the words. ‘Call me sometime when you get back your appetite. Angie’. He curled a smile. He’d forgotten how forward they were in LA. Her words about getting his appetite back and the wink had gone over his head at the time.
Shaw headed for the outskirts of Beverly Hills to his next call. After that, all he had to do was to call at the cemetery, and then on, to notify Maria’s family on his way home. He pulled over, and parked out of sight of the security guards’ barrier at Ted’s old private high school. He wasn’t sure if they’d give him the information he was looking for. He wasn’t sure if he should be asking, but he only had one daughter. Shaw knocked on the window. A young guard appeared.
“Hi, I was wondering if you had anyone in admin today?”
“Sorry, no. During the vacation, there’s someone in on Mondays. What is it you want?”
Shaw pulled out his ID and held it at the window.
“I’m wanting some background on a student who attended here back in two thousand and eleven, during his graduation year.”
“Maybe I can help, Sheriff. What’s the name? My database goes back five years”
“Ted Carter, could be Edward.”
“Listen, this is official, right? Do you have any other ID?”
“Yeah, it’s official,” he lied. “Here, my driving license.”
The young man hesitated. “I’ll need to Xerox your IDs.”
“No problem.”
Shaw handed them over and waited. He doubted he would have got this far if the guard had seen his van. The guard handed them back and ran his fingers over his keyboard. He turned the screen toward Shaw. “This is the only Ted Carter. Graduated in two thousand and eleven.”
“You sure that’s the only one?”
“Sure.”
The photograph looked nothing like the Ted Carter who Amy was seeing.
Chapter 13
SHAW approached Breakers Pass Main Street. He slowed and glanced down his street. A news crew was still camped outside his office. He knew taking the burger van from Hogan without telling him why it was needed had been a big mistake. It was time for damage limitation, but he couldn’t be sure he could pull off what he had planned. He drove straight to Hogan’s butchers, parked and climbed out of the van and entered the store.
There were no customers. Hogan stood behind the counter, slicing some prime steaks. He looked as though he enjoyed the fruits of his labor, judging by the oversized potbelly hiding under his apron.
“I hear we have a problem that needs resolving,” Shaw said.
“It needs resolving alright. What were you thinking? How can I use the van for transporting meat now? I want a new van.”
Shaw realized that explaining the steps they had taken with the UVPC wouldn’t placate him. Now that all his customers knew about him carrying a corpse in the refrigerator; it sure wouldn’t calm them down. It had gone too far for that. He couldn’t blame them. Shaw glared at Hogan.
“Is that before or after you get out of prison?” Shaw asked.
Hogan brought his meat cleaver down on the bench, leaving it embedded in the wood.
“What for, for telling the truth?”
“Well now, you didn’t tell it all, did you?”
“What d
’ya mean?”
“You missed the part about bribing a police officer.”
Hogan’s cheeks reddened.
“I didn’t bribe anyone. Frank offered to tear up the warrant.”
Shaw hoped that Hogan blushing confirmed his hunch. “But who suggested the exchange? And whose idea was the free meat?”
Hogan flustered, and wiped his hands on his apron.
“It’s Frank’s word against mine.”
Shaw set him a sour stare, and said, “I suppose that I could check your till roll from the time Frank arrived here and then left. But maybe first I should lock you up until I have time to investigate, or...”
“Or what?”
“Or, you can take a look in the van at the present I brought back from LA and say nice things about me on camera.”
“What present?”
“Come see for yourself. It should resolve our little misunderstanding.”
Hogan followed Shaw out to the van. A camera crew van stood at the junction of his street. He wondered if they had spotted Hogan’s van when he passed by, and they were going to save him a journey. Shaw opened the back doors to the van.
“There you are; a new chest refrigerator. Now does that resolve our little problem?”
Hogan scratched the few remaining hairs on his polished head.
“Hell, yeah. Look, I was mad, that’s all. Frank should have said what you needed it for.”
“I’ll need the van a little while longer to get the old refrigerator down to my office.”
The news van stopped with a lurch, its satellite dish on the roof swaying. A reporter holding a microphone and a camera operator rushed over.
“Sheriff Shaw, right?” The woman reporter said, and flicked her hair to one side out of her eyes “Can we have a statement?”
“Sure, fire away.”
The woman wiped her hand down her skirt, coughed, and then set a composed stance. She placed a finger on her earpiece. He felt old looking at her. In his eyes, she was young for a reporter. It looked as if someone was working her features by remote control, when she looked straight at the camera and set a false smile.
The Killers Amongst Us: Chimera Dawn Chronicles Page 9
