Killer in Sight (A Tom Lackey Mystery)

by Sandra Carrington-Smith

  own or Tracey’s.”

  “Do you know anyone who wears boots like these,

  Mary?”

  “Lots of people wear these boots. Why, my brother

  even has a pair…” the moment those words left her lips,

  Mary’s face dropped a shade of color. The same

  realization washed over Parker, as the words of the IT

  technician echoed in his mind: “One of them is a photo

  sent by someone named J. Bernardini just two days

  before the murder. The photo displays a very creepy

  table covered with photos of Tracey Newman. The

  message sent along with the photo said: “I will love you

  even after death do us part.”

  “Lackey, may I talk to you a minute?”

  Tom followed Parker to the other end of the room.

  “What is it?”

  “Remember the weird e-mail that Jack Little sent to

  Tracey right before she died? Don’t you think it is

  strange that the same man owns a pair of boots like

  these?”

  “It is strange, Parker, but it is only circumstantial

  evidence. And our guy seems to be out of town. I was

  there when you called me and his landlord said she

  hasn’t seen him around in a few days. One of the

  neighbors reported hearing a TV being on, but she is

  eighty years old and suffering from dementia, so her

  testimony is shit. We need to get into the apartment, but

  we’re not going to get in there without a warrant, and

  Judge Harris doesn’t dispense those too easily, as you

  know.”

  “Well, we need a warrant if someone knows we are

  going in. But Sister Mary here might have a key.”

  Parker replied matter-of-factly.

  “Mary,” Tom asked as he walked back to the couch

  where Mary Townsend was sitting, “do you happen to

  have a key to your brother’s apartment?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Listen, Mary,” Tom said in his most paternal voice,

  “between the e-mail he sent Tracey, and these boots

  here, your brother Jack could be in a lot of trouble. If we

  get into his place, and we find his boots, then he is off

  the hook. We’re not trying to hurt him, even if you are

  probably thinking the opposite right now.”

  Mary thought for a moment, her eyes darting from

  one side to the other of the room, as if trying to decide

  between the lesser of two evils.

  “If I get you inside Jack’s apartment and you find

  his boots, are you going to leave us both alone?”

  “If we don’t find any incriminating evidence, you

  bet.”

  “Let’s do it. Let’s go right now.”

  Parker looked at Tom with a puzzled frown on his

  face, probably more than a little confused by Mary’s

  will to cooperate. Tom nodded and led the way.

  The three of them got into Tom’s car and headed

  south on Capital Boulevard toward the Beltline. They

  arrived in Jack’s neighborhood within fifteen minutes.

  An old woman with a faded housedress was outside the

  building watering a potted plant that appeared as worn

  out as its surroundings, with puke-colored leaves

  hanging down over the cheap plastic container. When

  she saw the two men knocking on Jack’s door, she

  stopped watering the plant and addressed them with a

  smoky voice. “If you is looking for Mr. Bernardini, he

  be gone.”

  “Are you the landlord?”

  “Yes, Sir, that’s me alright. He owe me rent fo’ this

  here month, and he gone like a thief in the night.”

  Or like a murderer in the night…Tom thought, but

  those words never formed into a sentence others could

  hear.

  “This is his sister, Mrs…Mrs…what is your name,

  Ma’am?”

  “Mrs. Jenkins. Herriette Jenkins.”

  Tom hurried to shake her hand. “I am Lieutenant

  Lackey, and this is Sergeant Parker, with Raleigh police.

  We received a missing person report and we are

  inquiring on the whereabouts of Mr. Bernardini.”

  Parker walked up. “Wait, I was here a couple of

  days ago, and the landlord I met was a different person.

  A man, to be exact.”

  Mrs. Jenkins pursed her lips for a few seconds, then

  she said, “You met my boyfriend, William.”

  “It could be.” Parker replied, before retreating

  behind Tom.

  “Is there any way you would allow us in, Mrs.

  Jenkins? Just to take a look around?”

  “You gotta warran’?”

  “We just want to take a friendly look. His sister here

  has a key, but we wanted to make sure it is okay with

  you first.”

  “It don’t bothe’ me none. Just turn off the lights

  befo’ you leave.”

  “We will, Ma’am. Thank you.”

  Mrs. Jenkins went back to water the sick plant,

  while Tom, Parker and Mary walked the rickety steps to

  the front door. Mary unlocked the door and walked in

  first; Tom and Parker followed her.”

  The house was meticulously clean – almost too

  clean for a man living alone. The blinds were closed and

  the whirring sound of the window air-conditioning unit

  echoed against the barren white walls. The living room

  was sparsely furnished, aside from a couch, an old TV

  and a small, chipped coffee table. No pictures on the

  walls, no knick-knacks anywhere, no sign of books or

  magazines anywhere: The place looked uninhabited.

  Tom and Parker moved to the small kitchen, where—

  aside from an ancient stove—the only items were an old

  avocado green Formica table accompanied by two

  chairs, and a small refrigerator. The bathroom was no

  different. A faded blue shower curtain was the only

  splash of color in an entirely white room. The only thing

  on the counter suggesting occupancy was a hair brush.

  When they walked into the bedroom, both Parker

  and Tom froze. In front of them was a table covered

  with small items and photos of Tracey, the frames of

  which were darkened by the soot from nearby candles.

  The candles were long extinguished, and a small pool of

  hardened wax had formed a perfect circle.

  “Holy crap! What the fuck is this?!” Parker almost

  yelled.

  Mary came around the corner, and echoed Parker’s

  sentiment. “Oh my God…what is this?”

  “This, ladies and gentlemen, is a shrine – a shrine

  for Tracey, to be exact.” Tom explained in an even voice

  even if he was a little surprised himself by their

  discovery. He had seen the photo Jack sent Tracey, but

  in person the table looked different, bigger and certainly

  creepier. “No offense, Mary, but your brother appears to

  be a little fucked up in the head.”

  Mary didn’t say anything. She turned away from the

  table and went to sit on Jack’s bed, as tears threatened to

  erupt and ruin her masculine appearance.

  Parker went to open the drawer of the bedside table

  and found it locked. He pulled a small knife from his

  pocket and forced the lock to open. He
used the tip of

  the knife to lift a gun from the wooden enclosure.

  “Well…I’ll be damned. Go grab a bag, Lackey. If I am

  not mistaken a .44 Magnum is exactly the same type of

  gun that shot Tracey Newman.”

  Chapter 14

  Tom stretched his legs under the desk in his office

  and wished he could go home. Things between him and

  Kathy were better but still didn’t feel the same. She

  seemed very disheartened when she got home the night

  before, but didn’t volunteer any information and Tom

  didn’t ask. She went to bed early; Tom was sure he

  heard her crying from the living room, but he made no

  attempt to go into the bedroom and see if she was okay.

  What was wrong with him? Kathy was the best thing

  that had ever happened to him, and he wasn’t even

  trying to stop himself from screwing up the relationship.

  He dialed her number at the studio and waited for her to

  answer.

  “Hello”

  “Kathy, it’s me…”

  “Tom…is everything okay?”

  “Yes…no…I mean, everything is okay with me, but

  I don’t feel that we are okay.”

  Kathy’s heart thumped violently against her chest:

  Wasn’t this how things ended with Andy? Nothing is

  wrong with me, Kathy, but we aren’t working out any

  more…

  “I guess we aren’t, Tom. Is that all?”

  “No, it’s not. I wanted to know if you would like to

  go out to dinner tonight. Parker told me of a nice little

  restaurant not too far from home. What do you say?”

  Relief spread through Kathy’s entire body and she

  felt her knees soften. “I would like that. What time

  would you like to go?”

  “Seven, maybe? I should be out of here by then. I

  probably won’t have time to go home and change, but I

  can meet you there after I leave the office.”

  “Seven is great. It will give me time to bring some

  portraits to a reception hall before we meet.”

  “Great! And Kathy? I’m sorry…”

  Kathy felt tears burning behind her eyelids and she

  swallowed the knot in her throat to keep her voice

  steady. “I’m sorry too, Tom. The past couple of weeks

  have been emotionally exhausting.”

  “Yes, they have, and I really hate that my own work

  issues have affected our private lives.”

  “No big deal. And just so you know, I won’t be

  seeing Alexis any more. It was time for me to distance

  myself from the Howards anyway.” Her heart broke as

  she spoke the words, but she was able to hide the pain

  from Tom, somehow.

  Tom smiled. “Good. I know you are attached to that

  little girl, but it really is time to let go. And if I am not

  mistaken, Dr. Greer said they are sending Tracey’s body

  to the funeral home tomorrow, so it can be prepared to

  travel home for a proper burial.”

  Alexis is leaving town…

  “I hope the family can overcome this tragedy. They

  will if they stick to one another.”

  “I am going to call them shortly to let them know

  that we have a warrant for the arrest of Jack Little.”

  “The guy who stalked her? Did he kill her?”

  “We found the murder weapon at his house, and he

  left town right before we got there. He sounds pretty

  guilty to me. We also looked for a pair of steel-toed

  boots his sister says he owns, but we couldn’t find any.

  Meanwhile, we found a pair of the same boots in

  Tracey’s storage unit, and they were splattered with

  blood.”

  “That’s a shame. Hopefully Tracey’s family will

  find some peace now, if that’s at all possible.” Her first

  thought was of Alexis, and how knowing her sister’s

  killer was going to be apprehended was going to affect

  her, but she brushed the thought away quickly.

  “So, I will see you at seven, right?”

  “Yes, where do you want me to meet you?”

  “I will be parked in the Perkins lot at about 6:50;

  then you can follow me to the restaurant if you want.”

  “Sounds great! I’ll see you there.”

  Tom hung up, feeling a bit better. Parker walked

  into his office within a few seconds, bearing a handful

  of papers and a somber face, his usual.

  “The warrant is out to all agencies in the nation, so

  no matter where our friend has gone, we will find him.”

  “That’s great, but I wonder why he would choose to

  hide the boots at the place where his sister lives. And

  how did he get a key? According to the Barbie doll at

  the management office, it was Mary Townsend who

  went to ask for an extra key.”

  Parker’s face appeared assorted in thought.

  “Hmm…I’ve wondered the same thing, but I guess

  we’ll be able to get all those bits of information in place

  after we get him into custody. I’d better head back over

  there. We didn’t leave anyone in charge, and you are not

  planning on going back right now, are you?”

  “Actually, I was hoping to take the evening off.

  Things have been a little tense between Kathy and me

  lately, because of the long hours and all, so I was

  thinking of taking her out to dinner.”

  “You do that, Lackey. I’m on my way to Little’s

  house. I will call you if we find anything else.”

  Tom’s phone rang just as Parker was getting ready

  to leave.

  “Lackey, can I help you?”

  “Lieutenant, this is Officer Rogers. I am calling

  from Jack Little’s house.”

  “Yes, Officer Rogers. Parker is on the way. He

  should be there in less than thirty minutes. Did you find

  something else?”

  “I think so, Sir. We found a receipt for a bus trip to

  St. Louis, Missouri, in a box filled with photos of

  Tracey Newman and her family. A lot of the photos are

  of a young girl that looks like Tracey Newman, Sir.”

  Alexis…

  “I’ll call Parker and let him know, Officer. Make

  sure you secure the area and you don’t let anyone in.”

  Tom hung up the phone and dialed Parker’s mobile

  number. “Parker, one of the uniforms just called. They

  found a receipt for a bus trip to St. Louis in a box filled

  with photos of Tracey’s family.”

  “Sonofabitch! I wanna rip his head off with my bare

  hands!”

  “Yeah, me too. Are you sure you don’t need me?”

  “Nah. Take care of your lady, Lackey. I’ve got this.

  I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

  “I’ll make sure to have my phone on. Thank you,

  Parker, you’re a pal.”

  Parker huffed and hung up. Tom looked at his watch

  – four-thirty in the afternoon – and decided that maybe

  he should leave now and go buy some flowers for

  Kathy. He didn’t get flowers very often, but he knew she

  liked them – white roses, especially – and tonight was

  the perfect occasion to be a little romantic. Maybe he

  could stop by a jewelry store and get a little trinket for

  her, to
o, just to show her how important she is to him. If

  he hurried, he would even have time to go home and

  shower before meeting her. He grabbed his car keys and

  his mobile phone and left the building. Had he stayed a

  few minutes longer, he would have known that Brad

  Johnson had been busted selling drugs in a seedy part of

  town. When the officers searched his car, they found a .

  44 Magnum inside the glove compartment. A bloodspattered T-shirt was also hidden inside a grocery bag in the trunk.

  #

  It was almost four-forty when Kathy looked at the

  clock in her car, and she hoped to catch Dr. Greer before

  he left for the day. No matter what she had said to Tom –

  and no matter how much she wished she could put this

  case behind her – she couldn’t just sit back and do

  nothing. Dr. Greer had been very helpful when she

  spoke with him on the phone, and he confirmed what

  she thought: Images didn’t remain on the eye, since the

  information captured was transferred by the optical

  nerve to the brain, but although science couldn’t prove

  that a print of the image could remain on the retina or

  the iris, it didn’t disprove it either. One of Kathy’s skills

  was to use different techniques to remove imperfections

  of any type from photographs, so her goal was to first

  analyze Tracey’s eyes with an Iriscope, and then to take

  several digital pictures of each eye and enlarge them

  enough to see if anything aside from the usual was

  visible. She didn’t want to ask Dr. Greer on the phone if

  he would allow her to take the photos—this was

  something she really needed to address in person.

  By the time she pulled into the parking lot of the

  medical building that was almost a second home for Dr.

  Greer – a decade of hearing of his insane working hours

  from Tom had crystallized this image of the good doctor

  in her mind – it was only five minutes before five. She

  almost ran inside and asked the receptionist to announce

  her. The receptionist asked her to sit in the waiting room

  and she paged Dr. Greer.

  Kathy looked around the room, and wondered how

  anyone could spend an extended amount of time in this

  place. It wasn’t gloomy or unattractive, and whoever

  took care of decorating had done a good job masking the

  lugubrious atmosphere into a more clinical one, but it

  was still a place where death reigned supreme. She

  wondered how many bodies Dr. Greer had worked on

  over the course of his long career, but before she could