by P J Parrish
Was there something new on the Monkey Island Jane Doe? Louis stopped close enough to eavesdrop.
“The police have identified the victim as Shelly Marie Umber, age twenty. The identification came after a family member called the police late last night and was confirmed this morning. Miss Umber is reportedly from Fort Lauderdale...”
Louis moved on, walking a wide circle around the reporter. He heard her sign off. Heather Fox. That was it.
“Mr. Kincaid? Louis Kincaid?”
He heard footsteps behind him and turned just as she came up to him. He glanced at the camera. The red recording light was off.
“Are you involved in this case?” Heather Fox asked.
“No.”
She swept back her hair with red-nailed fingers. “Then why are you here?”
“Donuts,” Louis said.
She laughed, and he walked away.
Inside the door, he pulled off his sunglasses. The air- conditioning felt good against his face and he took a second to let it soak in. He waved to the female uniform behind the glass and mouthed Horton’s name. She smiled and buzzed him in.
Horton’s door was open and he was standing behind his desk reading something. He looked up when Louis approached.
“Hey, Kincaid, good timing. Come on in. We ID’d the Jane Doe.”
“I heard outside,” Louis said. “How’d it happen?”
“Mel found a BOLO from Fort Lauderdale police. That’s where she’s from. The parents came in last night. Mel’s questioning them right now.”
Horton’s eyes drifted to the door and Louis instinctively knew the chief had been the one who had broken the news to the parents. Horton hadn’t foisted the job off on some Fort Lauderdale cop. He had made the call himself.
“How’d they take it?” Louis asked.
Horton shook his head slowly. “The mother’s in shock, I guess. The father —-” Horton let out a breath. “He started screaming at me about the cops and the judges letting animals run loose on the streets, that sort of shit.” Horton sat down in his chair behind the desk. “Man, I want this guy caught, whoever it is.”
Louis rubbed a hand over his face. “Chief, there’s something -—”
Landeta came in, moving right to Horton’s desk. He didn’t see Louis hanging back by the door.
“No way this girl was a runaway,” Landeta said.
“How do you know?” Louis asked.
Mel spun to face Louis. He gave him a look of contempt and turned back to the chief.
“The parents spend the winter in Lauderdale then go to their home in North Carolina for the summer,” Landeta said. “They left Lauderdale on April second and the daughter stayed behind in the condo. She was a student at Nova University and was supposed to fly back north when she finished the spring semester.”
“When did they last talk to her?” Horton asked.
“A couple of weeks later,” Landeta said. “The father took off to France on business in early May, and the mother joined him there a week later. They were going to be in Europe all summer on vacation. The mother said she talked to the daughter just before she left. The mother called a couple of times while they were in Europe but always got the answering machine. Said she didn’t think it was strange.”
“That explains why no one came forward,” Horton said.
Mel nodded. “The mother finally got worried enough to call the condo and have somebody go up and check. Then they called the cops, who found out the girl hadn’t been to classes in four weeks. They found her car in the campus lot. It was unlocked and there was some blood inside. That’s when the BOLO went out.”
“Did the parents know she was pregnant?” Horton asked.
Landeta shook his head. “The mother was pretty shocked when I told them. She told me the daughter had a fiancé up in North Carolina, a med student named Jeremy Maynard.”
“Any chance this Maynard guy is the father?” Louis asked.
Landeta didn’t even look back at him. “Maynard said the last time he saw Shelly Umber was at Christmas. I called up to Duke and talked to some doctor who said Maynard is doing his residency at the university hospital there. It keeps him too busy to take a shit let alone fly down to Lauderdale and shoot his girlfriend.”
“How did he take it?” Louis asked.
Landeta turned. “Who?”
“Her boyfriend.”
Landeta stared at him for a moment. “How do you think?”
“Hey, look, man —- ” Louis began.
Horton sat up in his chair. “Save it. What else, Mel?”
“The parents say she was a great kid, good student, homecoming queen, the whole shot. She was also an athlete who made all-state lacrosse team in high school and liked to ski and hike. All she wanted to do was finish college, become a pediatrician, marry Dr. Jeremy, and climb Mt. Everest someday.”
“Family have any connections here?” Horton asked.
“No,” Landeta said. “They’ve never set foot in Fort Myers before and I get the feeling they never want to come back.”
“So we’re looking at an abduction,” Horton said. “We’d better get with Lauderdale and see if there’s anything similar over there.”
Louis took a step forward, but Landeta spoke first. “The father said something strange,” he said. “They said when they were taken in to ID the daughter they weren’t sure it was her at first.”
“How come?” Horton asked.
“They said she had changed, said she was a lot thinner. And the mother was upset about the girl’s hair being cut off. She said that her daughter had long hair, like down-to-the-waist long, and never wanted to get it cut. Always wore it in a braid.”
“I remember her hair,” Louis said. “I thought it looked weird, like someone had tried to cut it off with a knife or something.”
Landeta glanced at Louis. “Why didn’t you say something at the scene?”
“It didn’t seem important then,” Louis said. “But this is a girl from a family with money, a girl who cared about her appearance and was probably strong enough to put up a fight. Whoever abducted her might have cut off her hair to humiliate her as a control thing.”
“And kept her outside and starved her,” Horton said. His voice trailed off as images filled the silence.
Louis shook his head. He had to get this over with.
“Chief, can I say something?”
They both looked at Louis.
“I think I have a suspect.”
Landeta stared at him through the yellow glasses. Louis couldn’t tell if Landeta was annoyed or impressed.
“You been doing a little investigating on your own?” Horton asked.
“Not really. A woman came to me a day or two after the body was found and asked me to follow her father. She thought maybe he was involved.”
Horton and Landeta exchanged glances but said nothing.
“The father had the New-Press article on Jane Doe. He also had an old article on another missing woman from 1953.” Louis took a breath. “His name is Frank Woods. He works as a librarian here in town.”
“A librarian?” Landeta asked.
“So you investigated this man?” Horton asked, ignoring Landeta.
“I followed him. That’s all I was asked to do.”
“All you were paid to do, you mean,” Landeta said.
Louis shot Landeta a look. “He did nothing,” Louis said. “He’s as ordinary as a Ritz cracker. I was about to tell the daughter I couldn’t do any more when she dropped the ring on me.”
Landeta took a step toward Louis. “Ring? A ring like the one we found on Shelly Umber?”
“Yeah. Just like it.”
“You have this ring?” Horton asked.
Louis shook his head. “The daughter has it.”
“When did she show it to you?” Landeta asked.
“Yesterday.”
Horton stood up, his face flushed. “Yesterday?”
Louis tightened. He started to say something, mak
e an excuse, but there was none. He had waited too long. He had been sucked into believing Frank Woods was harmless. Even believing he was suicidal. He’d been wrong to wait.
Landeta’s face was suddenly in his, the yellow glasses an inch from his own eyes.
“You got that kind of lead in a fucking homicide and you sit on it? Jesus Christ —-”
“Mel, back off,” Horton said. When Landeta didn’t move, Horton pulled at his arm.
“Stupid sonofabitch,” Landeta mumbled as he moved away.
Louis stared at the window behind Horton, his chest tight.
Horton slid a legal pad at Louis. “Okay, give me names, addresses, and anything else you can think of, you got that?”
Louis grabbed a pen and starting writing.
“Where is this Woods guy now?” Horton asked.
Louis drew in a deep breath before he looked at Horton. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Landeta asked from behind Louis.
Louis slid the pad to Horton. “I think he’s gone under. I’ll let you know if he tries to contact me.”
Horton rubbed his face, his eyes on Mel Landeta. Louis waited, knowing that Horton wanted to chew his head off but knowing that he wouldn’t. Not in front of Landeta, at least.
“Mel, go see the PIO,” Horton said.
“What for?”
“To set up a press conference. I want to use the media to help us find this guy. And tell her to make it clear that Frank Woods is only a person of interest at this point.”
“Chief, what about —-?”
Horton held up a hand. “I’ll take care of it.”
Landeta gave Louis a final look of disgust and left. The office was quiet and it was a moment before Louis could look at Horton.
“Okay, what the hell is going on here?” Horton asked.
“I told you, Al. I told you everything I know.”
“Goddamn it, you’re smarter than this, Louis.”
“I know that.”
Horton started to say something then stopped. He ran a hand over his hair and waved at the chair. “Sit down.”
Louis took the chair across from Horton. Horton went back behind his desk and sank into his chair.
“After Mr. Umber was done chewing my ass off, he started crying,” Horton said. “I mean, like bawling, and the mother was just sitting there like a zombie, not even looking at him. Then suddenly she talks, like for the first time since they came in.”
Horton shook his head. “She looks up at me and asks if I know who killed her daughter. I didn’t have an answer for her.” Horton looked at Louis. “You wanna go out there and try?”
Louis was silent.
Horton picked up a folder, pursed his lips then dropped it.
“Look, I don’t know what we’re dealing with here,” he said, his eyes still on the folder. “But this guy, whoever he is, is a real sadist. I don’t know if that old article about the other missing woman means anything. All I know is I have a real body over there in the morgue and real parents here in my station wanting to know who killed their kid.”
“Al, you know as well as I do that if he took one, there could be others, and this thing from 1953 could be part of it,” Louis said.
Horton was silent. “God, I don’t want to go through this again,” he murmured finally.
Neither did Louis. He had only dealt with one serial killer but he had learned that the wake they left behind was more than just a matter of body counts. It was the terror of having to descend into the blackest pit of human nature and hope you could climb back out when it was over.
Horton was staring at the file on his desk. He reached out and pushed it across the desk. “I’m going to do you a favor,” he said. “I’m going to let you redeem yourself.”
Louis could read the tag on the file. It said 87-23445 UMBER, S.
“I want you to work with Landeta on this,” Horton said.
Louis sat back. “Shit, Al...”
“I’ve got no one I can put on this right now. You’ve got experience with this kind of case and you’ve got a relationship with this guy’s daughter. If he makes contact, it’ll be with her, right?”
Louis was silent, his eyes on the file. He could hear the phone ringing outside, hear the sharp laugh of two men out in the hall somewhere.
“I don’t like Landeta, Al,” he said.
“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to help him find out who killed this girl.”
“He knows I’m going to be working this?”
“Yeah, he was as excited about it as you. I already told Mel he had no choice in this. But you do. So you wanna play cop again or not?”
Louis hesitated.
“I’m not hiring you officially,” Horton said. “I’m not going to pay you. But I want you to work with Mel on this.” He paused, his eyes steady on Louis’s. “Do you understand what I am saying?”
Louis understood exactly. Without a badge he had fewer legal restraints. He could go anywhere, talk to anyone, and get what he needed by whatever means it took. He could do everything Mel Landeta could not.
Louis picked up the Umber file. “Okay, now what?” he asked.
Horton rose and straightened his tie. “I’m going to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Umber again. And you’re going to go make nice with Mel.”
CHAPTER 15
Louis had been the one to suggest they go over to O’Sullivan’s for a drink. Landeta had just stared at him then started off in the direction of the bar. They had said nothing to each other on the short walk over. Inside, Landeta had taken a table near the door, slipping into the chair nearest the window. Louis was forced to squint into the sun at Landeta’s backlit face. He was sure Landeta had done it on purpose, a power-trip thing, and it pissed him off.
“You’re in the glare. You mind moving your chair?” Louis asked.
“In fact I do,” Landeta said. He reached into his breast pocket for a handkerchief. He slowly and carefully began to clean the yellow aviator glasses.
Louis sat back as the waitress brought their drinks, a beer for Louis and a Diet Coke with lemon for Landeta. Shelly Umber’s case file lay on the table between them.
Louis picked up his beer and took a quick drink. He spotted a couple of cops he knew sitting at the bar. They were staring at him and Landeta, whispering.
“I don’t like fuckups, Kincaid,” Landeta said.
“I don’t like assholes.”
“I didn’t lose a suspect.”
“I haven’t lost him.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“No.”
“Then you’ve lost him.”
“Temporarily.”
Landeta rubbed the bridge of his nose and slowly put his glasses on. “How in the hell did you convince the chief to let you in on this?”
Louis was silent. Part of the reason was that Horton was worried that all the talk about Landeta was right, that the guy was, in fact, a burnout who needed help on a high-profile case.
“Frank Woods needs to be brought in alive and the chief thinks he’ll come with me,” Louis said. “His daughter is afraid he’ll cash it in if he’s surrounded and pressured.”
“Would save us a lot of paperwork, I say.”
Louis took another drink of beer. Man, what was with this guy anyway? He was tempted to just get up and leave. But he owed it to Horton to try. And to himself, for that matter. How many chances was he going to get to work a real case?
“I don’t want Frank Woods dead,” Louis said.
“Why not?”
“I want to know.”
“Know what?”
“The answer to the mystery.”
Landeta picked the lemon off the rim of his glass and squeezed the juice into the Diet Coke. “Woods probably killed both those women because he’s a sociopath with a twisted gene or two. No mystery there.”
Louis didn’t say what he was thinking, that the need to know why was what made any cop good. But then, Landeta didn’t seem l
ike the type who had read the Hardy Boys when he was a kid. The man probably didn’t have an imaginative bone in his body.
Landeta was turning the lemon over in his long fingers, staring at it intently. He pushed the rind with his thumbs, exposing the pulp. He began to eat it. Louis drummed his fingers lightly against the beer glass, waiting. But it was clear Landeta wasn’t going to say a thing.
“Al says you’re the best detective he ever worked with,” Louis said finally.
Landeta went on slowly eating the lemon.Weird
“You need a good imagination to be a detective,” Louis said.
“Who says?”
Louis let out a sigh. “Forget it, man.”
Landeta tossed the rind down. “I suppose you thought you were Detective Rocky King or something when you were a kid.”
“Who?”
Landeta waved a hand. “Never mind.”
“Actually, I read books.”
“You must have been a lonely kid.”
“I read true crime,” Louis said. “I always tried to find the holes in the case or in the investigation. When I finally got good at it, I knew what I wanted to do.”
Landeta finished his Diet Coke in two long gulps and set the glass down hard. “Well, enjoy it while you can, Kincaid. Not a lot of opportunities in this life to do what you want to do.”
“You make your own opportunities,” Louis said.
“And fate takes them away.”
Landeta rose suddenly and went to the bar. Louis watched him, trying to remember what Horton had told him about Landeta. Something about an accident and a lawsuit.
Landeta slid back into the booth with a fresh pack of cigarettes. He lit one quickly, without asking Louis if he cared.
“I heard you had a bad break,” Louis said
“Yeah, I had a bad break.”
“Everyone has them.”
Landeta stared at him. “You don’t know what a bad break is,” he said. “You’re twenty-seven fucking years old with a college degree, and you live in a beachfront cottage on a goddamn island paradise. You’re respected and you’re healthy and you can do anything you want. Don’t tell me about bad breaks, Rocky.”
