Skin Puppet: Reightman & Bailey Book Three

by Jeffery Craig

  “During that second cup, and while you try to find a way to distract me from the topic to avoid answering my questions—which are, of course, for your own good—I will tell you about how in the summer months, I very occasionally watch him from my apartment window as he sunbathes.”

  “Auntie Zhou…I don’t think…”

  “Did I mention he sunbathes in the nude, Jon? It is quite a remarkable sight.”

  He looked down into her face, and despite his best efforts, felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Plus, he was curious. “Do you mind about my…interest in him?”

  She gave his question the respect of a moment’s honest reflection. “No, but you both have things from the past to overcome. Like a wet floor, the past leaves footprints. Perhaps, you can polish the wood together.”

  He closed his eyes, hoping her double entendre was unintentional. He heard her small laugh and realized that maybe it hadn’t been. When he opened his eyes, she was already making her way through the beaded curtain at the back of her shop. After a last lingering glance at the freshly cleaned floor, he followed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Detective Antony Mitchell, known as Mitchell to friends and fellow cops, waited impatiently for the door to Chief Kelly’s office to open. His most recent partner, Charles Thorton, leaned his short, stocky frame against the wall and was entertaining himself by flipping through the latest edition of a local real estate flyer.

  Nancy Peach, the Chief’s secretary, was typing away, giving the wad of gum in her mouth a snap every now and again, just to break the monotony. The click of her brightly lacquered nails on the keyboard provided a steady rhythm and was a perfect counterpoint to Chuck’s page flipping, and Mitchell’s internal agitation.

  The case he and Chuck had pulled a few weeks back was starting to garner the attention of the local press. Mitchell had seen a lot of crazy stuff in his short time on the Vice Squad, but this one bothered him. By most recent count, seven children had been reported missing over the last six months, and one victim fitting the profile had been found, buried on the edge of the woods a few miles east of the city, earlier this morning. Local reporters hadn’t picked up on that yet, but it was only a matter of time before the news leaked.

  Tom Anderson and his team were currently combing the scene, so details about the victim were still pretty sketchy. The body had been called in by a commuter, who’d experienced car trouble on her way into work. She’d managed to baby her sputtering car off the main highway and onto the gravel side road, and had pulled over to wait for her husband to arrive. While waiting, she noticed signs of scavenger activity several feet from where she’d parked. Being country raised and curious by nature, she decided to investigate, thinking it was probably a cow or goat carcass needing to be removed. She already had her phone in hand, prepared to call the county, but discovered something much worse. One glimpse of the badly gnawed human foot sticking out from the poorly covered depression near the road caused her to relieve herself of her breakfast. Once she collected herself, she called 911 instead.

  The sheriff’s department sent out a deputy to investigate, and after a bit of wrangling about procedure, they’d call the city police. There was probably going to be arm-wrestling regarding jurisdiction, but so far, everyone seemed to be working pretty well together—maybe because the victim was a child. Most law enforcement officers still got pretty shook-up over a dead kid.

  The vic appeared to be a young female, between the ages of eight and ten years old, and from the state of the body, she’d been dead for some time. Anderson estimated she’d been tossed in the shallow grave located a few feet off a small gravel road somewhere around two weeks ago, but other than that, he didn’t offer any detail. He was unusually reticent this morning. Usually,he gave a running commentary as he worked, although Mitchell figured Anderson fed responding officers details along the way to keep them from stumbling around on their own and contaminating the scene. Tom Anderson was a stickler about keeping things clean and tidy in forensic terms. More than one cop had been blasted by the full force of Anderson’s ire when they failed to follow procedure—Mitchell included.

  Having learned his lesson the hard way, Mitchell and Thorton waited patiently a few feet from the crime tape barrier and listened for any scrap of info thrown their way. This morning, Tom and team surveyed the scene with their usual efficiency, but disappointingly, Anderson kept his findings and theories close to his chest. Young murder victims bothered Tom more than most. The specifics would have to wait on the coroner to finish her examination and for the forensics squad’s official report.

  The sound of Nancy’s typing stopped, and Mitchell looked over to see her reach for the giant, insulated cup situated on one side of her desk. She sipped from the already lipstick-marked straw a few times and set it back down. She then opened her top desk drawer and withdrew a small compact and a cosmetic bag. After carefully reapplying a generous layer of bright pink to her lips, she checked the results, and her teeth, in the mirror before returning everything to the drawer. Mitchell glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind, noting it was now a few minutes before eleven. He and Chuck had been waiting almost twenty minutes. His partner shifted his position against the wall and made a notation on his home shopping guide before flipping the page. Nancy resumed her typing and the clock ticked in time with her fingers.

  Mitchell didn’t like waiting, but wasn’t in any hurry for the office door to open. He figured they were in for an ass-chewing. On one hand, he’d be happy to just get it over; on the other, he dreaded how Kelly might react to the lack of progress on this case. The Chief could be unpredictable and was famous for his hair-trigger temper, but in the past, he’d covered it up with at least a thin layer of good-old-boy attitude.

  However, over the course of the last several months, Kelly had abandoned all pretense and was now just plain mean. His ego had taken a pretty significant blow over the whole Sutton Dameron debacle, and the discovery that a detective on his force was a hit man connected with dozens of murders over the years had further damaged his reputation. The icing on the cake was the accusation that Kelly intentionally failed to provide requested backup to Mitchell and now retired Detective Melba Reightman when they went to apprehend the killer and rescue Toby Bailey.

  The shoot-out that late afternoon left two cops bleeding on the ground and one assassin dead. Although no one mourned the death of John Brown, or Detective Jones, as he’d been known by members of the department, failing to provide assistance and protection to members of his own force hurt Kelly badly. Not only was he on the mayor’s shit list, the press had eviscerated him. Around police headquarters, little remained of his once glory-covered reputation. Those who had sworn to protect and serve would put up with a lot of crap, but they all took a dim view of a leader who would leave them hanging. No one trusted Kelly now, including Detective Anthony Mitchell.

  In some ways, being shot and wounded helped Mitchell’s career. His provisional promotion from street cop to detective stuck, and he received a commendation from the mayor herself. After a lengthy recovery, he returned to work permanently assigned to Vice and Major Crimes. As a side benefit, being injured cemented his new relationship with Bradley Clark. They had set up house together a short time later. All he’d really lost was his innocence regarding the profession he’d chosen, several weeks of recovery, and a friendship that might have turned into something more if circumstances were different. As it was, it had been almost three months since he last saw Toby, and he tried not to let that hurt too much. It was just the way things were,and they were both getting on with their lives the best they could. If only—

  The shrill sound of the phone on Nancy’s desk interrupted his thoughts and pulled him back to the present. Nancy spared him a quick look as she picked up the receiver.

  “Yes, sir?” Mitchell noticed she was still typing, although the tempo reduced while she spoke. “Yeah, I’ll tell them.” She replaced the receiver and took another swig of her drink. “Ch
ief Kelly says to tell you he’s tied up with something and to come back after lunch. He’ll try to fit you in then, and he said he hoped you had some progress to report.” She popped her gum, pulled open another desk drawer, took out her purse, and turned off the computer. “Speaking of lunch, I’m taking an early one. I need a break, and I’m getting hungry. Not that my stack of shredded lettuce and carrots is going to help much. I swear, this new diet sucks. I’d kill someone for just a whiff of a candy bar without giving it a second thought!”

  Thorton rolled up his flyer and stuck it in his back pocket and tucked his pen inside his rumpled blazer. “I think I’ll grab a quick bite too, and give my realtor a call. I think I spotted a winner and need to strike while the iron in hot. The good stuff gets snatched up before ya know it. Want me to bring you something back, Mitchell?”

  “No, I’m good. I have lunch in the fridge.”

  “Hubby pack you something nice?” Thorton asked. To his credit, there wasn’t much mockery in his tone. He and Mitchell had gotten past that early on in their relationship. Having been shot, declared a hero, and living to tell about it counted for a lot around here.

  “He’s not my husband and before you ask, we haven’t talked about getting married yet.” Nancy had her ears and eyes glued to the exchange. A piece of juicy gossip was worth its weight in gold. Disappointed there wouldn’t be anything new to report to her lunch gang, she tugged down her too-short skirt and moved out from behind her desk, purse and huge cup in hand. Before he could follow his partner down the hall, she snagged his arm.

  “You heard anything from Melba lately?” she whispered, casting a glance back at the Chief’s door.

  “No, not since Christmas. She sent me a nice card and said it be nice to catch up. I guess we’ve both been busy though and haven’t had a chance to get together. Why”

  “I was just wondering. Things aren’t the same around her since she left. I guess I just miss her. Chief Kelly would blow a gasket if he knew I felt this way.”

  “Was he upset she decided to retire?”

  “Nope, just the opposite. The day she handed in her notice, she spent a lot of time in his office, and when she left, he was real shook up. Hid inside for the whole day. The next morning, he handed me her file and said I could send it on down to personnel, since he never wanted to see it, or hear her name around here again. Every time something comes up related to her past cases, he makes it real clear Detective Jackson did the all the real work. Everyone knows better. I mean, Sam was a great guy and a terrific cop, but Melba was one smart cookie, and she worked her butt off.”

  “You have any idea what happened?”

  “Not a clue, but…” Nancy stopped in her tracks and checked their surroundings. Once she was satisfied that there wasn’t anyone within hearing range, she continued, “Look, Mitchell, I don’t know what happened in that office, and don’t really want to know. What I do know is the Chief’s ass is in a sling, and part of the reason has something to do with that business up in the mountains. I see stuff, and hear more than I should. You probably know things are pretty shaky around here right now, but you don’t know the half of it. Just be careful and…don’t set him off. You and Thorton keep just your heads down real low until things get better.”

  “Will they get better, Nancy?”

  “I don’t know. I just try to keep my mind on the work and not dwell on it. I need this job, and until lately, it’s the best one I’ve ever had. Now, I’m going to go nibble down some lettuce and play like it’s yummy. I just hope nobody orders pizza or brings in a burger. That’d really piss me off!”

  She strode off down the hall, tittering for a second on her high heels, until she shifted her ample hips and regained her balance. Mitchell headed for his own desk, where he looked over their case files, hoping to find something he’d missed. When Thorton came back in from lunch, he remembered his own brown bag in the refrigerator. Retrieving it, he ate while Chuck pulled out a new real estate pamphlet and resumed his search. He didn’t even pay attention to what Bradley had packed for him today.

  A few minutes later, the phone on his desk rang. He recognized the number displayed on caller ID. “Is the Chief ready for us, Nancy?”

  “No. He asked me to tell you he’ll meet you and Thorton at three this afternoon. Oh, and the meeting will be in the small conference room down the hall from here. Tom Anderson and the coroner will be sitting in. Got it?”

  “Got it! Thanks, Nancy.”

  “Sure.” After a moment she added in a quiet, urgent voice, “Just remember what I told you and keep your head down.” Without waiting for a reply, she hung up.

  Mitchell replaced the receiver and filled Chuck in on the change of plans. Tilting back in his chair, mostly eaten sandwich forgotten in front of him, he wondered why he felt a sense of relief. Then, he got it. More bodies in the room would mean he wasn’t exposed. The added presence of the additional attendees meant Kelly would at least make an effort to keep himself under control, and if not, at least there’d be witnesses to whatever went down. They’d still get their butts handed to them, but at least…at least, they’d live to fight another day. He sat upright in the chair as he realized just how much he’d been dreading meeting with his police chief. He was worried about what might happen if they didn’t deliver the goods, instead of focusing on finding the missing children and the person who’d left a young girl buried in a shallow grave, dug at the edge of the woods by a narrow, gravel country road.

  ***

  Melba filled her mug and plonked a tea bag in it as she listened to Toby’s and SarahJune’s chatter. After spending some time late Friday and sneaking in a few research hours over the weekend, they were now all gathered in their fancy new conference room to review the information they’d gathered on movie star/television actor Jake, his uncle and property mogul, Vassily Grokov, and all the other motley members of the little tribe.

  The exercise was totally pointless, but would allow them all to try out their nifty new electronic toys and the search engines acquired thanks to Madame Zhou’s open—although closely scrutinized—checkbook. “Pretty darn amazing what’s available to the public sector,” Melba thought to herself, inhaling the delicate fragrance of the tea wafting up from her grumpy cat mug. “You now have far more ways to find out about anyone you care to name than you did as a detective on the force, and a whole lot less red tape to cut through.” Zhou Li had a knack for asking some pretty insightful questions before she cut loose with the cash, but once she did, she wasn’t stingy.

  Speaking of cash, centered in the exact middle of the highly polished conference table were three separate stacks of bills. If she squinted, she could just make out Alexander Hamilton’s face on the top of each and knew there were two identical mug shots sitting underneath in each pile. Taking a clue from Zhou and Moon, she suggested they all put their stakes out in the open. Having lunch money in plain sight would make the little game more interesting and ensure they all kept their eyes on the prize. Hopefully, it would also keep them aware of the time, and prevent them from dragging things out over the whole afternoon. She was all for having fun and getting in some practice, but there couldn’t be that much to discuss.

  “Are you two losers ready to get this started?” she asked, starting to set her mug down on the table. Remembering the office rules before Toby could refresh her memory, she slid a padded coaster under the cup. It’d been a long time since she’d had furniture nice enough to warrant a coaster.

  “Yep,” Toby grinned. “I’m already anticipating the lunch you’ll be buying. I think Italian would be nice.”

  “Not so fast! Since I’m going to win, I’m pretty sure we’ll be enjoying sushi,” SarahJune piped up. “Just be sure and remember to bring chopsticks. Eating sushi with a fork isn’t classy.”

  Melba tried not to grimace at the thought of raw fish, and hoped their receptionist and de facto office manager lost big time. “Game on, then. How do we want to do this?”

  “I already
thought about it and have a suggestion.” SarahJune certainly wasn’t shy about speaking up. “I think it makes the most sense to talk about what we found out about each of them one at a time, instead of each of us jumbling our report all together. That could get confusing. Once everyone’s finished, we’ll vote to decide who wins, and that person will get a point. The one with the most points after we’ve finished with all three wins, and gets to pick lunch for the next two days, and gets to keep their cash. The rest of the money—from the losers—meaning you two—goes into the kitty.”

  “Sounds fair,” Toby agreed. “But what if there’s a tie?”

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” SarahJune conceded. “But since I’m clearly going to win, it doesn’t matter.”

  “But what if you don’t win?”

  “Toby, life will be much easier for you if you just accept that I will. It’ll save you loads of disappointment later. If, by some cosmic fluke — or outright collusion on the part of you two —there should be a tie, then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. All right?”

  Melba avoided glancing Toby’s way. There wasn’t any need since they’d worked together just long enough for her to know him pretty well. SarahJune was going down. “Sounds fair to me. Toby?”

  “Yeah. Who’s going first?”

  “I will,” SarahJune stated firmly. “After all, it’s only fair, seeing as I’m not an experienced investigator like you two.”

  Toby ignored the dig, and Melba calmly took another sip of her tea. “Yep. That girl’s toast.” She placed her mug back down on the coaster and fiddled with it a minute until it was within easy reach. “Who are you going to start with?”

  “As if there was any question! I’m starting with that hunk of burnin’ love—Mr. Jake Anthony, star of stage and film.” SarahJune opened the folder in front of her and withdrew an impressive stack of neatly typed papers and laid them to one side, and placed a smaller stack of what appeared to be photos printed from the web to the other. There were a few paper clips shining out from the edge of each stack to keep the information about each person together. She selected a grouping from the photos and removed the paperclip and placed a single photo on the table. Melba didn’t even have to get up to recognize Jake Anthony’s thousand kilowatt smile.