by A Wallace
“Yes,” she said. “I assume it’s in evidence?”
“Yes. Why, Char?”
“If the necklace is returnable, I want it given to Justin Wilkerson.”
“It’s at the lab for testing.”
“Is there anything else?”
“No.”
“All right, see ya later.” Charley removed her apron and gloves. “We’re done here.” She held out her hand to Murphy. “I’ll put them away.” After Murphy gave her the items, Charley disposed the gear in the proper container. “Let’s go.”
After exiting the building, they walked toward their vehicles. Charley unlocked the Denali. Murphy followed behind her.
“Wait. This occurred to me last night.” He shifted around her to the Denali driver’s side door. “Yesterday, we discussed the crime scene was orderly.” He opened the door. Charley ducked under his arm, slid into the driver’s seat, and offered thanks. “It took a lot of time for the killer to prepare the dumpsite and pose Robin.” Murphy leaned on the door as she settled into the seat. “He wanted her found. Whoever he is, he didn’t want it to be shocking. It was surreal. Even from the photos, I sensed peacefulness, respect, dreamlike.”
Charley draped her hand over the steering wheel. “A lack of viciousness. This guy isn’t cunning, he’s desperate.” She put the key in the ignition and turned the key. “In his mind, the killing was necessary.” She reclined with her head on the headrest. “Robin isn’t a personal target. She represents something or someone else.”
Murphy laid his left forearm across the top rim of the door opening and rested his forehead on his shirtsleeve. “Which would be?”
“Not sure, but the marigold, using distilled water to cleanse her body, the candles.”
Murphy swiped his stubble before he planted his hand on the top corner edge of the seat next to her head. “You believe the killer is sending a message?”
Charley rolled her bottom lip with her fingers. “He’s not sending a message, he’s writing a book.”
“A memoire?” Murphy eased his hand closer to her hair. “He wants the world to know something’s important to him.”
Charley smiled. “Correct. I need to go.”
He jiggled the seat. “Wait, Carmichael called you Dr. Faraday.”
She nodded.
“You’re a doctor?”
“PhD, criminal psych.” She flipped her hand. “I must go.”
He stepped away from the vehicle and closed the door. She lowered the window. “Nice assessment, Murphy.”
He grinned. “Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
“Don’t count on it.”
Chapter 7
No Leeds
Northern Virginia – FBI Satellite Office
Monday, 21 March – 11:30 AM
Seated at her seldom-used desk at the field office, Charley reviewed her unsolved cases. Last month, she traveled to Colorado to unravel the mystery of five wealthy entrepreneurs, victims of a necktie party. Three weeks to analyze the data, tracing the evidence back to one individual. A shady land deal cost them their lives.
Charley grumbled.
“Acorn case. Open. Route 52 murders. Unsolved.”
The cursor blinked, awaiting her command, offering no advice or forgiveness.
“Tangerine.”
With a displeased grunt, she flopped back onto the chair. “Now Robin Senters.”
Charley focused on prioritizing the four remaining cases. The abduction and murder of Robin Senters moved to the top of the list.
The office door creaked, breaking her concentration.
“Char, my office in five.” Doobie left with no explanation.
“Sure.” She closed the caseload folder on the computer.
Upon entering Doobie’s office, Murphy sat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk with the typical man pose, propped head with his hand cupped around his jaw, his right foot balanced on his left knee.
Chastised for her behavior towards Murphy in the past, she concluded a beatdown from Doobie was forthcoming. Unbeknownst to her, Murphy experienced the same reprimand. She grabbed the chair arm and scooted it away from Murphy. “I’m here. What’s up?”
Murphy’s sideways glare included an audible sound of aggravation.
“Update on the Senters case.” Doobie opened a blue FBI folder. “It’s disappointing, but here goes. The Leeds family was in Thailand visiting family during the abduction and murder of Robin.”
“You’re sure?”
Doobie sighed. “Yes, airline tickets, hotel receipts, everything.”
She glanced at Murphy. “Were you aware of this?”
Murphy squeezed his lips together, shaking his head.
“The Leeds returned home early yesterday afternoon,” Doobie said. “This case is critical, so I paid them a visit last night, along with several investigators. Everything checks out.”
“I don’t understand why we’re here. A phone call would’ve been enough.” Charley waved her hand towards Murphy. “And him in his cubicle.”
“We’ll get to that.” Doobie leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. “Slow down, Charley, not everything needs to be done, said, or accomplished at supersonic speed.”
“Explain the tattoo?” Charley said.
“He and his wife had the tattoos done in Bangkok eighteen years ago. The inferior ink the artist used deteriorated and faded over time. The butterfly wings should be red and blue.”
“Anything else?” Murphy said.
“The Leeds didn’t know about Robin until we told them. Mr. Leeds hyperventilated. His dinner ended up on my shoes.”
Charley and Murphy looked at each other suppressing snickers.
“Thanks. Which one of you would like to clean my shoes? Better yet, I have two, one for each of you.”
They up-righted their shoulders and chimed in unison. “Nah.”
“He’s been coaching youth softball and baseball since his oldest son, now seventeen, played Little League. His daughter, Amanda, was one of Robin’s closest friends. She’s not doing well after hearing the news.”
“The alibis are tight,” Charley said. “This, plus the autopsy evidence indicating no sign of sexual assault exonerates Mr. Leeds. Without physical evidence suggesting Leeds, not much we can do.”
Doobie nodded. “Mr. and Mrs. Leeds will find someone to remove the tattoos. They were clueless. They didn’t know about the logo. Mrs. Leeds burst into tears. It was a sad situation.”
Disappointed, Charley lowered her head. “Solid alibis with proof. I thought we had him.”
“Any leads on the pool man?” Murphy said.
“Unknown subject. Local detectives spent two days questioning everyone associated with parks and recreation. All cleared.”
“We press on,” Charley said, attempting to stand. “Is there anything else?”
Doobie pointed at her. “Sit.”
Charley dropped into the chair and huddled as if admonished by a parent.
“You’ve had time to review and study. What’s your opinion?”
Charley’s glance sunk to the floor. “This is premature, but considering the crime scene, this will be serial. It was too specific, creative, loaded with symbolism. He will strike again.”
“You expect more victims?”
She nodded. “This is his first, but not his last.”
Murphy shifted in her direction. “You came to this conclusion, how?”
“The signs are there.” She propped her head on her fist. “The crime scene was clean. This early, I would suggest an obsessive/compulsive individual, with strong organization skills.”
“I reviewed the photos and agree. This guy has control issues, more than you, Charley.” Doobie chuckled.
She ignored his comment. “The killer gauges his every move, thought, and action.”
“Murph, do you have any insight?”
Murphy pressed his back against the chair, his head tilted towards Charley. “For a man to go to so much troub
le bathing Robin is odd. The frilly dress makes me wonder.”
“What’s your first instinct?” Doobie said.
“My opinion, he’s effeminate. Dirt and a little grime don’t bother most guys. Part of it might be an attempt to remove evidence from the body which isn’t uncommon. Perhaps it’s his choice of soap, which is unusual.” Murphy paused. “Unless… he is a father.”
Charley examined the imperfections in the ceiling. “That makes sense, the distilled water. The perp wants the victim to be as pure as possible. Or… the theatrics are a ruse. The crime scene meant nothing.”
Appalled, Murphy’s eyebrows lifted. “To him, killing Robin was a huge joke?”
“Not a joke, but he wants us to believe the murder has purpose.”
“Why do you believe that?”
“The scene, as we agreed before, was too perfect. No trace evidence left behind. He could be messing with us, deliberate and misleading.”
“The dumpsite was extravagant. I believe he performed a funeral ritual on her behalf.”
“Due to the posing the body, and the items he used?” Doobie’s attention swapped between the two of them.
“The spent candles suggest a eulogy,” Charley said.
“Faraday, you think he may be a man of the cloth?” Murphy said.
“Not sure.”
“I reviewed Carmichael’s report.” Doobie pointed at Murphy. “I want some of that magic water. Anyway, two people may be involved in Robin’s death.”
“What makes you say that?” Charley said.
“Murphy mentioned a feminine overtone. I agree.”
“How about a caretaker and a killer?” Murphy said.
Charley reclined in the chair. “Hmm, it’s possible. I’m not dismissing anyone’s theories or ideas, but this is the work of one person. The crime scene is too consistent. There’s no indication of two different behaviors or personalities. Excellent theory, but this involves one culprit.”
“Tell me why?”
“Individuals, such as this, cannot be analyzed the same way as a normal person. The physiology and their brain chemistry are different. The electrical impulses fire at irregular rates and are inconsistent.”
“Faraday, you said he’ll kill again.”
“With the planning he put into Robin, my guess, two to three weeks to restock.”
“The candles, blanket and such.”
“Unless he already has them,” Doobie said.
“Premeditated and knows how many he intends to kill.”
“How so?” Murphy said.
“He has a trigger, something with meaning. It’s not rational.”
“What’s our next move?” Murphy glanced at both of them.
“We try to figure out who he is before he kills again,” Doobie said.
“He’s right, we continue to dig.” Charley cleared her throat.
Doobie arched over the desk and folded his hands. “Could you two explain why you can’t deal with each other in this manner, instead of the constant cat fight?”
They sunk into their seats, remaining silent.
“Murph, I reviewed the Charlottesville case, she agreed to assist. Will you tell me why it was necessary to undermine her well-documented skills and talents?”
“I didn’t agree with her suggestions.”
“That’s it?” Doobie said with his hands out front. “You called us, remember? Murph, you were the lead investigator. At a dead end, you begged for help. You knew what was available. You took it and what did you do?”
“I didn’t manage the situation in an appropriate manner.”
“You’ve brought the same attitude into my department. What did Charley do that forced you to dismiss your professional integrity?”
Murphy swiped his mouth. “There’s no excuse.”
Doobie pointed at Charley. “You, young lady. I understand why you felt undermined and castigated in front of the other detectives. Since when do you lose your cool?”
“The situation was stressful.” Charley sighed. “The case was rough. No leads, no witnesses, little evidence. I was a last resort.”
Murphy nodded. “That’s true.”
Her eyes peered in Murphy’s direction. “He didn’t like what I had to say, and he dismissed my analysis.”
Murphy stared out the window.
“The district attorney, city hall, and every other bureaucrat were demanding resolution. It was unacceptable for him or the other detectives to tolerate it.” Charley shook her head. “It created a volatile situation for all the investigators.”
Murphy leaned forward with his hands dangling between his knees. “When a delegate’s daughter, her husband, and their two children are murdered execution style, there will be heat.”
Doobie shook his finger at Charley but locked eyes with Murphy. “So, you blame her? She gave you what she had, and you criticized Charley because you failed to follow through with her suggestion?”
“It’s not that I blamed her. It seemed ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” Charley stood with her fists clenched by her side. “I handed the murderer to you.”
Murphy leapt from his the chair, facing her, the corner of his mouth twitched. “I got it, Faraday.”
Charley braced her fists on her hips as she leaned towards him. “Try listening. I suggested he may work at a grocery store.” Her finger pointed, admonishing him. “Dammit, Murphy, guess what? He did. The suspect was a low-level employee, uneducated, between twenty-five and thirty. Sorry, I didn’t pull his name out of my ass, you cretin.”
Doobie pointed at the chairs. “Sit down, both of you.”
“She’s right.” Murphy sat. “I accept responsibility.” He turned to her. “It wasn’t necessary for you to vault over my desk and scream at me in front of my staff.”
Charley pointed her finger. “I did not scream. This fabrication is nothing more than to justify your failure to proceed with my suggestion. You wouldn’t listen. I had to do something. You dismissed me because I own a pair of boobs. I’m a woman, so how could I offer anything of value?”
“I’ve already said this. Gender wasn’t the issue.”
“Then what? You don’t like my hair color? What?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“You’re right, Murph,” Doobie said. “It doesn’t. From now on this shit stops.”
Murphy nodded. “Agreed.”
“Charley?” Doobie said.
She clenched her teeth. “Agreed.”
“One more thing.” Doobie leaned back as if to remove himself from the line of fire. “I submitted and received approval for you two to be partners in this investigation.”
Charley eyed Murphy, swiping her hand into the air. “No way.”
“I agree with her,” Murphy said.
Charley glared at Murphy shifting to Doobie. “I’ve never had a partner.”
“Guess what? Neither of you have a say. You’re together. Get over it and get to work.”
“I’m a field agent who works all over the country.” Charley stood, pushing the chair away with the back of her knees. “I’m supposed to drag him around if I’m called out of town?”
“You’re partners on this case only.”
Hope flooded across Charley’s face. “I can leave him here?”
“Keep it up, young lady, and I’ll make it twenty-four, seven.”
Charley’s jaw twitched. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” Doobie said with a direct nod. “Now, get out of my office.”
“Doobie, I’m mad at you.”
“I know. But you still love me.”
“Argh,” she growled as she left the room.
Murphy remained seated. “May I ask a personal question?”
“Shoot.” Doobie fiddled with a pen.
“Your relationship with Charley differs from the other agents.”
Doobie leaned back and crossed his legs. His eyes glistened as a warm smile showed his teeth. “Noticed that, did you?
”
“Kinda obvious. I’m not implying anything… uh… real personal.”
“I got it, Murph.” Doobie rubbed his mouth and grinned. “Where to start?” Doobie tapped his cheek with his finger. “You know nothing about her, do you?”
“Not much.”
“Maybe you should get that crankshaft out of your ass and learn instead of assuming.”
Murphy brushed his pants, removing imaginary lint. “She has her own crankshaft.”
“She’s entitled.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Charley’s dad, Chase…” Doobie gazed out the window. “He and I met while in the Marines. Being the only black man in our unit was tough. He befriended me when others wouldn’t. He took a lot of heat, but he didn’t care. After we left the service, we joined the district police force. Sometime later, we became partners.”
“Long history.”
Doobie hunched over the desk, rubbing his eyes. “When Charley was twelve, her parents, and both sets of her grandparents, died in a plane crash in the Occoquan Reservoir near Fountainhead Regional Park.” Doobie tapped the pen on the web of his hand. “Christine, her mother, and the grandparents died instantly. Chase, her father, died later in the evening at the trauma center.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Charley entered my life the day she came into this world. Chase was on the fourth floor, in a hospital bed with four bullets in his chest and gut.” Doobie stared out the window, swallowing hard and deep. “He was lucky. A twenty-three hour standoff. The shooting caused Christine to go into premature labor. Charley was coming regardless. I was Christine’s birthing coach when she delivered Charley. I held her before her father did.”
Murphy pulled back his shoulders. “Wow. That’s why Charley is small.”
“Nah.” Doobie shook his head. “Char is the mirror image of her mom. Christine was Swedish, petite, blonde hair, blue eyes—”
“Charley’s eyes are green.”
Doobie tilted his head to the side. “Yes, one of two traits she inherited from Chase.”
“The second one being?”
“Temperament.”
“Tell me about him.”
“Tall and pumped like you. Handsome. Women loved him. I can’t even count how many propositioned him.”
“And?”
Doobie waved his hand. “Not a chance. Chase worshipped Christine. Here was this strong alpha male, and when Christine was near, he turned into a blathering five-year-old.” He chuckled.
