Justice Returns: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (A Jake & Annie Lincoln Thriller Book 6)

by Rayven T. Hill

  There was some talk lately of building a new precinct, or perhaps a second one, to help reduce the crime rate that grew with the city. Maybe that’s all it was—talk. With their budget grossly underfunded now, an increase in funds seemed unlikely to Hank. He’d be happy to get a new desk. The one he had now had seen much better days, used by many of his predecessors, and his chair rocked a little from side-to-side. If he didn’t have to fill out so many reports, and could spend more time on the streets doing actual police work, he wouldn’t care.

  He glanced across the large room as Captain Alano Diego stepped from his office, beckoned Hank over, and then looked toward the water cooler and called, “King.”

  King sauntered over and joined Hank. “I wonder what the captain wants.”

  Hank looked at the sloppy cop. “Maybe he picked up some clothes from the thrift store for you. Something to improve your look.”

  King chuckled. “Don’t mock my uniform. It helps me fit in.”

  “Not around here it doesn’t. Maybe out in the back alleys, but a detective should look more presentable.” He led the way to Diego’s office and tapped on the open door.

  “Maybe I’ll buy a tie,” King said, and followed Hank into the office. He leaned against the filing cabinet and crossed his arms.

  Hank sat in the only guest chair, stretched out, and looked at the captain who had a worried expression on his face.

  Diego adjusted his cap and looked at Hank. “I’m a little concerned,” he said. “With this Spencer guy at large again, the city’s going to panic. It’s all still fresh in their minds.”

  “We’re going to get him, Captain,” Hank said.

  King spoke up. “Hey, look at the bright side. He’s killing criminals and making our job a whole lot easier.”

  Diego frowned at the cop. “King, if you recall, this nut’s criteria isn’t the same as ours.” He leaned forward in his chair and glared. “And we don’t need a vigilante running around this city.”

  Diego continued to stare at King until the cop looked away, and then opened a file folder on his desk and leafed through its contents before continuing, “Granted, this Badger was some character, but he was going down for sure. For a long time.” He tapped his fingers on the desk. “Do you really think this is Spencer’s work?”

  “It’s too much of a coincidence not to be,” Hank said.

  Diego bobbed his head up and down a few times in agreement. He leaned back, dropped his elbows on the armrests, steepled his fingers under his chin, and looked intently at Hank for a few moments.

  “What’s on your mind, Captain?” Hank asked.

  Diego’s jowls jiggled as he adjusted his tie. He slapped the file folder closed with one hand, pushed it aside, and cleared his throat. “I want to run something past you two.”

  “Sure, Captain.”

  Diego looked at the scruffy cop. “King, you weren’t around then, but the Lincolns were responsible for bringing Spencer in before.” He held up a hand toward Hank. “I know you would’ve gotten him eventually, but who knows how many more bodies we would’ve had in the meantime.”

  Hank leaned in. “I give them a lot of credit,” he said. “But then, they’re friends of mine.”

  Diego gave King an extended look, and then spoke to Hank. “I want to give them every opportunity to aid us in this.”

  King interrupted, “They’re not cops.”

  Diego looked King up and down. Hank knew what was on his mind. King wasn’t much of a cop either, and Hank was pretty sure if Diego had a say in his transfer here, he would’ve turned it down flat. Diego didn’t comment on King’s remark.

  “I’ve been considering the idea of swearing Jake in as an auxiliary constable,” Diego said. “That is, if he would go for it. Many forces are utilizing the services of auxiliary constables now. And a uniform similar to regular cops may help.”

  King uncrossed his arms, stood straight, and pointed toward the precinct floor. “There’re a lot of cops that resent him and that wife of his. There’s a lot of talk going around they’re interfering in police matters.”

  “I haven’t heard anything at all,” Hank said. “The Lincolns have some friends here besides me.”

  King’s lips tightened and he leaned back against the filing cabinet.

  Hank looked at Diego. “He may go for it, but I would nix the uniform. That’s for show, and they aren’t showy people.” He leaned in. “But if you’re thinking about it, you should consider Annie as well.”

  King was huffing, and it appeared to Hank, he was about to walk out.

  Diego removed his cap, brushed back his dark hair, and replaced his cap. “Of course, Annie as well.”

  “What about a weapon?” Hank asked. “If you recall, you allowed Jake to carry one before, and since this is a serial killer …”

  “Perhaps,” Diego answered. “Let me think on that.”

  Hank held back a grin. That would be sure to send his partner off on a tangent. He couldn’t understand what was wrong with King. He appeared to see Jake as a threat—perhaps competition, disregarding the fact they were all on the same side.

  Diego brushed at his dark mustache. “Does Callaway have a trace set up on the Lincolns’ phone?”

  “All ready to go, Captain,” Hank said. “The minute Spencer calls, we’ll know exactly where he’s calling from.”

  “Let’s hope he calls then,” Diego said, and then paused before adding, “I realize the Lincolns think there’s something other than suicide involved in that Spencer woman’s death, and that’s all well and good.” He pointed a finger at King, then at Hank. “But your top priority is finding Spencer. Is that understood?”

  “Understood, Captain,” Hank said, and King grunted.

  Diego continued, “As far as we’re concerned, the case is closed, but give them whatever they need. If we can clean up a cold case, so much the better.”

  Hank nodded.

  “It’s not a cold case, Captain,” King said. “It’s closed.”

  “The murder of Quinton Spencer is a cold case, King. If, like they say, the same guy killed both of them, then what do I care if Mrs. Spencer’s case is reopened?”

  King shrugged and crossed his arms.

  Diego waved a hand, dismissing them. “Ok, get out of here. Go catch me a serial killer.”

  Chapter 20

  Wednesday, 11:32 AM

  JEREMY SPENCER wheeled his bicycle into the apartment and leaned it against the wall. Moe was sunken into the couch, his feet on the coffee table, watching television. Uriah was in the kitchen cooking up something that smelled vaguely like greasy eggs.

  Jeremy sat at the table, laid his cap down beside him, and watched Uriah a moment.

  Uriah spoke without turning around. “You want eggs?”

  “No thanks. I already had something.” Jeremy paused, and then asked, “Uriah, can I borrow your motorcycle today?”

  Uriah slid the eggs from the pan onto a plate, shut off the burner, and dropped the hot pan in the sink. It sizzled and sputtered. He set the plate on the table, sat down, and took a bite before answering. “You know how to ride a bike?”

  “It can’t be that hard,” Jeremy said. “Father had an old one a long time ago and I did ok with it.”

  Uriah looked thoughtfully across the table at Jeremy, his lips smacking as he chewed. “I need it back by four. I gotta go to work.” He waved toward the front door. “Keys are hangin’ up there.”

  “No problem,” Jeremy said. “I’ll have it back by four.”

  Moe wandered over to the table and sat down. “Where you off to, Little Buddy?”

  “I thought I might go to my house.” He was disappointed and angry in seeing the cops there the day before and was anxious to visit Mother and Father’s graves. If no one was around there today, he had plans to go inside the house to make sure his stuff was safe.

  “Need some company?” Moe asked.

  Jeremy eyed Moe’s two hundred and fifty pound body. “Might be a lot of wei
ght on the bike?”

  “She’ll hold,” Uriah said. “Be careful over bumps, and watch out for potholes.”

  Moe’s face brightened. “Can I come?”

  Jeremy smiled at his faithful friend. “Sure, Moe. We’ll go together.”

  Uriah dropped his fork and sat back. “You know, I don’t mind you guys staying here awhile, but I can’t afford to feed your ugly mugs forever. You gotta find a place soon.”

  “Gotta get a job first,” Moe said, appearing worried. “Maybe start looking tomorrow.”

  Jeremy knew Moe would have a hard time finding employment. He was a con, fresh from prison, and though Jeremy didn’t like to say it, not very bright. He felt somehow responsible for the big lug’s well-being, but he was in no better position than Moe. He had no money, no way of getting any, and no other place to go.

  He really wanted to return to his home and stay there, but of course, it would be too dangerous. The cops would come snooping around again, so that was out of the question.

  A new idea began forming in his mind. Though he wasn’t a thief, and he hated those who stole from others, he wondered to himself if it would be morally wrong to take from those who’d taken from others. Would that really be stealing? He would have to consider the idea a little longer before making a decision.

  “We’ll find a way, Moe,” Jeremy said.

  “Did you get done what you went to do this morning?” Moe asked.

  “Yes, everything worked out great. It surely did.”

  Uriah frowned. “And that’s another thing. I don’t know what you’re doin’ with that piece I gave you, but if you’re gonna bring the heat down on me … like I said before, I’m going straight now, and I can’t afford no trouble. I ain’t goin’ back inside.”

  “None of us are going back there,” Jeremy said. “I’ll be careful.”

  Uriah looked uncertain. “I’ll give you a couple more days.” He leaned over and raised a brow. “How’s your hand?”

  “Much better,” Jeremy said. “It still hurts a lot, but the swelling’s going down. It seems to be healing slowly.”

  “Best be careful with it,” Uriah said, and then stood and wandered down the hallway.

  Moe leaned forward and looked at Jeremy. “So tell me. What’d you do this morning?”

  “I killed a man. A man who deserved it.”

  Moe whistled. “Wish I was there.”

  “Maybe next time, Moe.”

  Moe grinned. “I ain’t afraid.”

  Jeremy grabbed his cap and stuffed it into his back pocket, then stood and headed for the door. “Let’s go now.”

  He got the keys from a hook by the door, then crouched down and picked up a pair of helmets. He handed one to Moe and put the other one on, tightening the strap. Moe was having a hard time getting it over his big head, but finally managed.

  Jeremy removed the revolver from behind his belt, put in three more rounds to replace the ones he used, then tucked the weapon behind his back.

  Moe followed Jeremy out, down the steps, and to the rear of the building. The dingy area was all asphalt, high wooden fences lining the back of the property. A nauseating odor emanated from a big, blue dumpster, overflowing with a week’s worth of refuse. Half a dozen cars that had seen better days occupied designated spots.

  An old Suzuki was chained to a post by the fire escape door. Jeremy unlocked it, hopped on, and kickstarted it. It sputtered and died. The second attempt caught and he revved it a few times, turned off the choke, and the engine idled.

  He spun around the lot a couple of times to reacquaint himself, then stopped beside Moe. “Get on.”

  Moe jumped on the back. The springs did their job, holding Moe’s weight, and Jeremy eased away.

  He stopped at the street as a police cruiser idled by. The cop in the passenger seat glanced their way but the vehicle kept on moving. Jeremy pulled the motorcycle onto the street, followed the cruiser for a couple of blocks, staying well back, and then turned, being careful to signal.

  In five minutes, they entered the outskirts of the city, County Road 12 and his house a few minutes away.

  He hoped there were no cops around this time, but if there were, he was prepared to deal with them.

  Chapter 21

  Wednesday, 11:47 AM

  JAKE OPENED THE front door and Hank stepped inside. “Where’s your sidekick?” Jake asked.

  Hank rolled his eyes and chuckled. “I snuck away without him.” He shrugged. “He’s not too hot on you guys anyway.”

  Jake had had some unfriendly words with Detective King in the past, and though Jake wasn’t one to hold a grudge, he found it a lot easier to think without the crass detective around.

  Hank followed Jake into the front room and each sat on an end of the couch. Hank put his briefcase on the floor beside him and greeted Annie who came into the room and snuggled up in her armchair, her feet tucked underneath herself.

  “We had a murder this morning,” Hank announced.

  Jake dropped his arm across the back of the couch and turned toward the detective. “And the reason you’re here to tell us this is because…?”

  “Could be Jeremy’s work.”

  “Let me guess,” Annie said. “The victim was a thief?”

  Hank nodded and then explained the particulars of the case. “We have no proof yet, only a presumption. And at this point, there’s no evidence that points to Spencer, or anyone else for that matter. I have officers canvassing the neighborhood, but so far, nothing.”

  “I wonder what he’s using for transportation,” Annie said.

  “Only a guess right now,” Hank said. “But either he’s walking, which seems like a risky thing to do, or he’s hooked up with someone else who has a vehicle.”

  “As far as we know, he has no close friends,” Jake said. “Maybe no friends at all.”

  “Again,” Hank said. “We’re assuming it’s Jeremy. Until I get a complete forensics report, and unless that report points directly to Spencer, we can’t rule out it may be someone else.”

  “It was Jeremy,” Annie said.

  Hank grinned. “I expect you’re right, but cops have to go on facts. You’re not bound by that.”

  “And that’s why I don’t want to be a cop,” Jake said. He’d considered it as a career at one point—when Hank announced his intentions—but it was an idea that was short-lived and never revived. Being a private investigator was as close as he wanted to come to the demanding career of a police detective.

  Hank cleared his throat. “Speaking of being a cop, Diego came up with the bright idea of swearing you two in as auxiliary constables. He said you have some expertise in this case and might be able to help.”

  Jake laughed and looked at Annie. “I really don’t think either one of us is interested.”

  “It comes with a uniform.”

  “Great. Just what we need.” Jake said. “You’re forgetting, most of what we do is undercover. I don’t think a uniform would help us with that.”

  Hank looked quizzically at Annie.

  She shook her head. “I don’t see the point.”

  The detective sported a crooked grin. “I had a feeling you guys might say that.” He paused. “I believe Diego was hoping you would make catching Spencer a top priority.”

  “It is a top priority,” Annie said. “I think we can work both cases at the same time, especially since they’re related.”

  “Diego said to give you whatever you need. Whether it be in finding Annette Spencer’s killer, or in apprehending Jeremy, he’s behind you.”

  Annie laughed. “You would’ve given us that information anyway.”

  “Likely,” Hank said. “But he warned King and me to make Spencer our only goal. And I agree. He needs to be on the top of our list. We have to catch him before he kills again.” He snapped open his briefcase, removed a file folder, and handed it to Jake. “Mrs. Spencer is up to you two.”

  “What’s this?” Jake asked, as he opened the folder.
r />   “It’s about Aaron Starling, the father of the boy Quinton Spencer killed.”

  Jake perused the single sheet of paper in the folder. “After Starling got out of prison, he found his wife left him and moved away. He left the city as well. Last known to be in Alberta, but that dates back a few years. His current whereabouts are unknown.”

  “So that doesn’t let him off the hook for Mrs. Spencer’s murder,” Annie said.

  “What about Mrs. Starling? She could’ve killed Annette Spencer,” Jake said. “She had a motive as much as her husband did.”

  “Hanging doesn’t sound like the way a woman would commit murder,” Hank said. “I’d wager you’re looking for a man.”

  “I agree,” Annie said. “It’s unlikely a woman would have the strength to do it the way it was done.” She filled Hank in on her findings in the barn.

  “If your measurements are correct, and of course, I believe they are,” Hank said. “Then that seems to cinch it. Mrs. Spencer was murdered.”

  “It’s at least enough evidence to open the case again,” Jake said. “Assuming we catch Jeremy before his mother’s killer is found, Diego would really have no choice.”

  “The captain’s going to want some kind of report from you two as you go along.”

  “That depends,” Jake said. “Are we working for him, or are we working for Jeremy the scumbag?”

  Annie laughed. “Either way, I doubt if we’ll get paid for this.”

  “You’ll get paid by getting on Diego’s good side,” Hank said. “Look at it as an investment for the future.”

  “You can tell Diego not to worry,” Annie said. “We’ll give him our findings. I don’t see how that’s going to hamper our investigations, especially since we have his blessing to start with.”

  “I’ll tell him he has your full cooperation,” Hank said with a smile. He closed his briefcase, picked it up, and stood. “In the meantime, I have some work to do before Jeremy kills again.”

  Jake stood and saw Hank to the door. He watched the detective drive away before returning to the living room where Annie browsed the folder with the information on Aaron Starling. “What’s our next move?” he asked.