Touched By Blood

by Craig Buckhout

  “Shot?”

  “Stabbed. The thing is still sticking out of his neck.”

  “Well that doesn’t match up …”

  “Hello. What do we have here?” Al said.

  Nick waited for Al to explain.

  “Got a cell phone. It’s on the ground next to his body, under a car. Must have fallen from his pocket, but it ain’t his, that’s for sure …or the killer’s either, unless maybe the killer is the tooth fairy. It’s pink. You got the cell number for Molly Banks?”

  “I think so, hang-on.” Nick thumbed through his notebook and found it. “Okay, call me back if it rings.”

  Nick heard Molly Banks’ number ring several times, then go to voicemail. A female voice said, “Hi, you’ve reached Molly’s cell phone. I’m not available right now. Please leave a message and I’ll call you back.” Before the message ended, Nick got a call interrupt from Al.

  “Did it ring?” Nick asked.

  “Vibrated. So now we know for sure all three murders are connected.”

  “We’ll focus on St. Claire. If we clear his, we’ll clear Emerson’s. Keep at it there, and I’ll join you as soon as I can.

  Nick saw the Chief of Police arrive. He was immediately surrounded by the media.

  “I’m thinking Carl,” Al said. “We pay him a visit, ask some questions, and wham-o, St. Claire gets himself dead.”

  “Maybe. We’ll get that search warrant for the tapes at his club as soon as things are under control at both scenes.”

  Nick started back over to Fran. She needed to know the three homicides were connected. When he got there, Fran told him that the dispatcher was trying to get hold of him.

  Rather than do it by radio, he used his cell. The dispatcher told him that four cars had been reported stolen in the last day. One was a Toyota 4x4 pick-up truck, one a BMW 740i, the other two a Honda Accord and a Toyota Camry.

  Nick looked at the track across Emerson’s legs and told them to broadcast the Camry and Accord as possibly connected with the Homicide and that if either or both were located, advise Homicide and hold the cars for fingerprints.

  Nick told Fran about all three homicides being connected and that St. Claire had been stabbed not shot.

  “That makes sense,” she said. “I just found a pair of bloody overalls stuffed in that grocery cart over there.” She pointed in its direction.

  “So the killer was getting rid of the clothes he wore when he killed St. Claire at the time Emerson came across him. He killed Emerson because he knew that once St. Claire’s body was discovered, Emerson would remember their encounter and put it together.”

  “Works for me,” Fran said.

  Nick hitched a ride to the Lexington with a beat cop.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  On his way to the Lexington, Nick called Ellen Banks. She picked-up on the sixth ring.

  “Ellen? This is Sergeant Zajac.”

  “Mikolaj. Have they finished with my sister’s body yet?”

  To Nick, she sounded as if she was holding it together.

  “No, sorry, that won’t be until tomorrow at the earliest. You might want to contact a mortuary, though, and start making the necessary arrangements. All you’ll have to do is sign some papers and they’ll take care of everything.”

  “Who should I go to? I’ve never done this before,” she said.

  “We’re not supposed to recommend anyone. I’m sure … “

  “So you’re one of those by-the-book kind of guys, huh?

  She was teasing him.

  “It’s just a rule we have, to keep everyone honest.”

  “And you never break the rules Mikolaj, even the little ones?”

  He chuckled. “Sometimes. Okay, look, a lot of cops go to Cromwell and Finn. They’re on Willow Street. They’ll do a nice job for your sister.”

  “Thank you. There’s hope for you yet.”

  He laughed again.

  Her voice turned serious. “Have you gotten anywhere on Molly’s case yet? You talk to Carl?”

  “That’s why I called. Did Molly ever mention the name Nolan St. Claire?”

  “Well, we hadn’t talked very much in the last few weeks. She was avoiding me. It goes back a long way. Wait, what did you say that name was again?”

  “Nolan St. Clair.”

  “That sounds familiar but not from Molly. Hang on a minute.”

  He could hear noises in the background, papers being shuffled, perhaps things being moved. After a couple of minutes Ellen came back on the phone.

  “Yeah, I knew I’d heard that name. The day before Molly died, I helped shoot a dinner for the Western States Commercial Real Estate Association over at the Lexington. He was one of their scheduled guest speakers. Why do you ask?”

  “He had your sister’s cell phone.”

  “What do you mean he had her phone? What was he doing with her phone?”

  Her voice quivered on the first sentence. Nick got the impression she was close to breaking down again.

  “We don’t know, and we can’t ask him. Someone killed him and then probably killed one of our police sergeants.”

  “Whaaat? I don’t understand. He’s dead and an officer is dead? What does this have to do with my sister?” Her throat was froggy.

  “We’re not sure yet, but it’s possible that St. Claire was the one who killed your sister.”

  “Why would he do that? I don’t understand. What’s going on here Nick?”

  She was crying now. Nerves still raw, emotions on the surface.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I should have told you this in-person. Things are a little crazy right now. We haven’t figured it out yet. We’re just getting into it actually. I’ll try to stop by later and talk with you some more. But one more question. How did you land the job at the Lexington?”

  He heard her sniffle.

  “Through another photographer. Westin Photography. When one of us has a job that is too big to handle alone, we have a deal to call the other.”

  Her voice was hoarse.

  “Okay, Westin Photography. I’ll call you maybe later tonight.”

  As soon as he hung-up he called Westin Photography. He spoke to a man named Jim Westin who verified Ellen’s story. He had been hired by Roger Templeton, an event planner. He, in turn, hired Ellen to handle the portraits while he roamed the dining area taking photographs. Nick thanked Mr. Westin and hung-up.

  He didn’t get the feeling that Ellen was involved in all this, but it was too much of a coincidence not to check it out. He felt relieved it was just that, a coincidence.

  He thought of something and called Westin back.

  “Mr. Westin, I need to see your photos.”

  “Well, I suppose that would be all right. I’ll have them posted on my website the day after tomorrow. Call me and I’ll give you the password.”

  “I need them sooner. We have three people dead. It’s possible the killer was at that dinner.”

  “I’ll try Sergeant.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “He’s not here.”

  Sonny Boy’s eyes shifted away from Nick’s.

  “Oh yeah, where is he?” Nick asked.

  Nick had earlier met with Al, taken the car, obtained the search warrant for the surveillance tapes and was now back at The Rack to get them.

  “I dunno, he called earlier and said he’d be late. That’s all I know to tell you.”

  “Well, I’ve got a search warrant for your surveillance tapes.”

  “You’ll …ah …have to wait ‘til Carl gets here. He didn’t say anything to me about any search warrant.”

  “That’s not how it works. Either you hand them over or I get them myself.”

  “Oh shit, …um …can I at least call him?”

  “Knock yourself out, but I don’t leave here without the tapes.” Nick thought it wouldn’t be a bad thing to talk with Carl Malone anyway and find out where he’s been in the last several hours. “If you get him on the phone, let me talk with him.”


  Sonny Boy keyed-in Carl’s number on his cell phone. After a short time Nick heard him say, “Carl, the same cops, cop is here with a search warrant. Call me as soon as you get this.”

  “He didn’t answer,” Sonny Boy said.

  “So it seems. Let’s get the tapes.”

  “I guess I’ll go get them.”

  “We’ll go together.”

  “Ah man, he’s gonna be pissed.”

  “Think how he’ll feel if I close the place down while I’m doing my search.”

  “This is about Misty, huh? She was one of the nice ones.”

  “If she was so nice, why was she killed?”

  “I dunno man, maybe we better just get the tapes. Jeeze, he’s gonna be pissed.”

  “Maybe we’d better,” Nick said.

  While Sonny Boy was retrieving the tapes from Carl’s office, Nick noticed the current work schedule posted on the wall. It indicated that Nona, also known as Edna Faulk, was working. She was the last one to have worked the same shift with Molly.

  Nick walked back out to the bar area and saw a dark haired women with D implants doing the splits at the edge of the stage so a man with rubbery jowls could slip a dollar bill into her G-String.

  “Who’s that?” Nick asked.

  “The dancer? That’s Nona.”

  Nick continued on out to the car, secured the tapes in the trunk, and then returned.

  “What now?” Sonny Boy asked.

  “Thought I’d take a closer look.”

  “See what I mean about you guys always after a freebee?”

  “What can I say?”

  Nick unlatched the yellow chain and walked to the stage just as Nona was picking up her leather vest from the stage. He held up a ten to get her attention.

  “Liked my dance, huh?” Nona asked.

  “Didn’t see much of it. Actually I’m with the police department Nona, go get some clothes on. I need to talk with you about Misty.”

  Nick tried to keep his eyes on Edna’s but it was a lost cause. They twice shifted to her breasts. He cursed himself each time it happened.

  “I don’t know. Don’t I have a right not to talk with you?”

  “We can either talk here or down at the police department, doesn’t matter to me.”

  She looked over to where Sonny Boy was standing and watching them.

  “Not here. I don’t want them to see me talking with you. How about I meet you somewhere? I don’t go back on for a couple of hours.”

  “Okay, there’s a place a couple of blocks down called Tubby’s. You can’t miss it. They got an outside BBQ going all the time. Look for the smoke. I’ll meet you there, but if you don’t show in ten minutes I’ll come back and we’ll talk downtown.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be there. Misty was a sweet kid.” She then snatched the ten from Nick’s hand. “It makes it look better,” she said.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Tubby’s, on the inside, was a narrow but deep room sandwiched between a Vietnamese nail salon on one side and a liquor store on the other. When you walked in the door, there was a small waiting area with a couple of chairs and a counter with a cash register. Behind the counter was the place where the BBQ’ed meat was sliced and made into sandwiches. As you walked deeper into the room, beyond the counter, small tables with checkered, plastic, tablecloths lined the walls on either side. The floor was linoleum tile that changed from a black and white marbled design, to a green and white checkerboard pattern at about the half-way mark. The last coat of paint on the walls was battleship gray.

  Nick took a table towards the back and waited for Edna. While doing so, he checked-in with Al to see if he’d come up with anything else at the Lexington.

  Al told him that the coroner had taken the body, but before doing so he retrieved the victim’s wallet from his clothing. An Oklahoma driver’s license confirmed he was Nolan St. Claire. Al also advised that St. Claire was in San Jose for a realtor’s convention where he was scheduled as a guest speaker. He apparently had acquired his considerable wealth in commercial real estate and was going to talk about timing the market.

  Al also stated he spoke by phone to a Mr. Peter Blaine, who was the president of the Western States Commercial Realtors Association. Blaine said that St. Claire showed for the welcome dinner, left early, and failed to show for his assigned speaking time the next afternoon. Regarding the car he had been driving and was found next to, it was an “Executive Rentals” BMW, contracted for by Roger Templeton who was owner of “Manage Your Affairs,” the company hired to coordinate the event.

  As Al was explaining this to him, Nick saw Edna step inside the door and scan the room. She was wearing a hot pink sweatshirt that was zipped halfway down, over a low cut tee shirt of the sort that showed-off her cleavage, a pair of fuzzy pink sweatpants, a white ball cap, and dark glasses. The last two items no doubt meant to conceal her identity — as if nobody took notice.

  Nick cut the call off and waved Edna over.

  “I hope they don’t see me. I don’t want to get into trouble.”

  “Whose they?” Nick asked.

  “You know, they, Carl, the people from the club.”

  “Why would you be in trouble?”

  “They told us not to talk with you is why. You don’t understand how scary this is.”

  “Help me understand then. Who told you not to talk to us? You keep saying they.”

  “Well, not they so much, Carl’s the one who said it, but it’s like there’s more than Carl who want me to keep quiet.”

  This isn’t going to work, Nick thought.

  “Okay, okay, how about I ask you some questions and you answer them?”

  “You’re kinda cute. You married or have a girlfriend or anything?”

  “Stay focused here for a second, Edna.”

  She turned and looked around the room, saw a woman behind the counter, and waived her over.

  “Do you know who killed Molly?”

  Keep the questions simple, he thought.

  “I don’t know, but I think she had a, you know, like a date with someone because first she was scheduled to work, and then not scheduled, and then she was found in a hotel room, you know, dead. So I think maybe it was someone she was, you know ….”

  “What do you mean by date?”

  “Well, it’s like a saying, you know. It’s just how we say it. You see, sometimes clients, clients are what we really call them, want some special entertainment, and we like give it to them.”

  “You mean they want sex?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not just like that. It’s all very classy and everything. We go to a nice hotel, have champagne, and sometimes talk a little. It’s not like wham-bam or anything. Well maybe sometimes, but not all the time. Am I going to get in trouble for telling you this?”

  “No. These people you meet, are they people who come into the club?”

  “Somebody like you probably couldn’t go out with somebody like me, huh?”

  “By someone like you, you mean a witness? I’m afraid not, we have rules about that sort of thing. I’d get in trouble, too.”

  Ellen and her comment about rules flashed through his mind. He wondered if that’s how people saw him; one of those inflexible types.

  “But getting back to it, how do these people you date contact you?” Nick asked.

  “Oh yeah, but this could get me in a lot of trouble. You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

  “For now it’s just between us. And remember, you’re doing this for Molly.”

  “I don’t know …”

  “It’s the right thing to do, Edna.”

  Edna turned around again and looked at the same woman who was still in the same place behind the counter, then back at Nick.

  “I don’t know what’s taking her so long,” she said.

  “There’s no table service here, Edna. You have to order at the counter, but let’s just get these questions out of the way and then you can order something. Now, these peo
ple, your clients, how do they contact you?”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, Carl’s the one. He tells us where to go to meet them.”

  “And you get paid for this, right?”

  “Yeah, but we never get paid by the client. That’s definitely against the rules. It’s Carl again, he pays us a bonus with our regular pay but you can’t tell what it’s for or anything. It’s like just mixed-in with the other money.”

  “These clients, when you meet with them, is there an understanding you’re there to have sex?”

  “Well, I know why I’m there and since I usually get the room, and the client comes to me, and then it happens, they know, too. Oh and sometimes they tip us. Sometimes real good. Some of them even ask for our phone numbers so next time they can call us direct and not go through anyone else.”

  “And you think that’s what Molly was doing, meeting a client when she was killed?”

  “Yeah, but nobody said so or anything.”

  “How many times has Carl set something like this up?” Nick asked.

  “You’re going to think I’m a bad person if I tell you.”

  “Look Edna, I’m not judging here. I’m just trying to find out who killed Molly.” Actually, who killed the person who killed Molly and then a cop?

  She looked away from him.

  “Well for me, it’s maybe once a week or so, a little more for Molly. I could stop, though, if the right person came along. I could stop dancing, too. It’s just something that happened. I mean I didn’t plan it, you know like ‘I think I’ll grow up to be a stripper’ and a, well you know.”

  “You don’t have to explain, really. I’m okay with it. Do you know how Carl finds these clients?”

  “That’s the thing, see; that’s why I think there’s like someone else. These clients, they aren’t the type of people Carl would know. I mean they have money, and have gone to college, and everything. You can tell because they wear expensive clothes and jewelry and talk nice.”

  “How about the other dancers, do they go on dates, too?”

  “I think it’s only Molly and me. If the others are doing it, they don’t say anything or anything.”