Hide and Sneak

by G. A. McKevett

  Usually when he ran out of other plans.

  “You’re absolutely right,” he said with rare enthusiasm. “Why don’t you talk to Eileen here, and I’ll go to the park and organize the search team. They’ll be arriving there pretty soon, and I really ought to be there.”

  He turned around as though he was heading back to the car, but she grabbed him by the sleeve and held on tightly.

  “Oh, no you don’t. We’ve only got one car. You’re not stranding me here and driving my pony. No way.”

  His face fell, and he muttered something under his breath that she could only half hear.

  From the half that she heard, she figured he was pretty darned lucky that she hadn’t heard all of it.

  “Besides,” she said as they turned back toward the building and continued up the walkway to the door, “if Eileen’s in a dither over something you said or did yesterday, then you’ve got to calm her down yourself, face the music, take your lickin’, pay your debt to society, reestablish trust with your fellow—”

  “That’s enough, woman. Any minute now I’m going to fly into a blind rage.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all before, many times before. I live in fear. Trembling, mind you.”

  “You better. I’m a terror when I’m roused.”

  She squeezed his arm and gave him a suggestive grin. “Actually, I like it when you’re ‘roused.’ I’d venture to say that ‘roused’ is my very favorite version of you.”

  He chuckled deep in his throat and shot her a sideways look that went straight to her nether regions.

  Ah, men and their voices. A gal didn’t stand a chance.

  Nor did she want one.

  As they approached the door, she noticed that he was hanging back a bit, allowing her to go first. Usually he did this out of chivalry and old-fashioned good manners. But now she had the distinct feeling that he was hiding behind her skirts. Or her slacks, as the case might be.

  It was just as well. Eileen would look at her CCTV monitor screen before opening the door. She might as well see a friendly face first, not the mug of someone she wanted to strangle.

  Savannah pushed the buzzer and heard the abrasive sound echo through the building on the other side of the door.

  No wonder Eileen and her team are cranky, Savannah thought. If I had to listen to that all day I would be, too.

  It took quite a while, as it always did, for someone to answer. The building was large, and the team was often in the back, where the evidence was examined. The front half was devoted to offices and all matters computer-oriented.

  Finally, the speaker mounted over the door crackled to life, and they heard a testy voice say, “Hello, Savannah. I see he brought you with him this time.”

  Savannah looked up at the camera mounted beside the speaker and gave it a bright, dimple-deepening grin. “You didn’t think I’d miss a chance to come down here and say ‘howdy’ to my favorite crime scene techs, did you?”

  The door opened and a woman in her sixties with long silver curly hair beckoned them inside. “You don’t have to kiss up quite that much,” Eileen Bradley told Savannah. “He wasn’t that horrible yesterday. Just his usual pushy, obnoxious self. Especially since you brought me cookies.”

  Savannah gulped. “Cookies? Cookies?”

  Eileen looked at her empty hands and her expression went from “friendly” to “not nearly so friendly.”

  “I just got off the phone with Liu, and she said she got cookies.”

  “Darn you, Dr. Jen,” Savannah mumbled. “Rat me out, will ya.” To Eileen she said, “I’m sorry. I’ve had a rough last twenty-four hours, and I only had time to whip up one batch this morning before running out the door.”

  She held up three fingers in a Girl Scout salute and said, “I swear the next time I come, I’ll bring twice as many.”

  Judging from the scowl on Eileen’s face, she had never been a Girl Scout. The pledge wasn’t cutting it.

  “Okay,” Savannah tried again, “the moment we close this case, I’ll bring you the biggest batch you ever saw, and I’ll slip them to you on the sly, so that you don’t have to share them with anybody here.”

  That did it. Eileen grinned broadly and said, “Come right in. Tell us what you want, and we’ll deliver.”

  Dirk leaned over and whispered in Savannah’s ear, “Those cookies of yours are like magic. One of these days, you gotta teach me how to make those things.”

  “Next time you get ‘roused,’ we’ll make some together.”

  “Um-m, that’s even better.”

  Eileen led them past the maze of office cubicles, where lab techs sat, their faces lit a sickly blue from the glow of their computer monitors. Each nodded to Savannah and Dirk as they passed through.

  Savannah received a smile with each nod.

  Dirk, not so much.

  “Except for the DNA tests, which, of course, will take some time, we’ve finished processing your case,” Eileen told Dirk, as they left the office area and proceeded to the back of the building where the hands-on investigations took place.

  It was a large, open area with long tables, where evidence could be organized and examined.

  Along the walls were benches with all sorts of technical equipment that Savannah didn’t recognize. The microscopes were the only things familiar to her.

  But she didn’t mind the foreign environment. The members of the CSI were scientists. She was an investigator. They belonged in the lab, and she was at her best in the field.

  Every time she worked a case, she was grateful for the truths they uncovered. She couldn’t remember a single time that she had solved a crime without their help and expertise.

  “You’re already finished?” Dirk said, surprised. “Man, that was quick!”

  “Not really,” Eileen replied. “We only had four pieces to process: the backpack and its contents, the victim’s clothing, the Malloy vehicle, and, of course, the murder weapon.”

  “The rock?” Dirk asked. “Just a plain rock?”

  “Yes. Pretty basic. But, unfortunately, for your victim, very effective.”

  “How can you be sure it was that particular rock?” Savannah asked.

  “It had blood on it—her type, A positive, but of course we’re waiting for the DNA to be sure. It also had a few long black hairs stuck to it. The color, medulla, cuticle, they all matched the sample taken from her.”

  “You know, we looked all over for any kind of weapon, including rocks,” Dirk told her. “Jake and Mike spent most of the day searching, and they didn’t turn up anything.”

  Eileen shrugged. “They’re patrolman. Good patrolman. But they aren’t crime scene investigators. They’re good at rousting drunks out of bars at closing time and resolving domestic disturbances. We’re good at finding rocks with blood and hair on them and finding out whose blood and hair it is.”

  “Takes all kinds to solve a crime,” Savannah said.

  “It does,” Eileen agreed. “And you should be particularly grateful to the techs who found that one. While pulling it out of a cactus patch, they managed to rub against a large and nasty patch of poison oak. I had to send them home with big bottles of calamine lotion.”

  “Oh, no,” Savannah said. “I got that once, and it was miserable. I wanted to cut my leg off to get away from it. Tell them we appreciate their sacrifice in the line of duty.”

  “I will. But if you really want to make it up to them—”

  “I know. Cookies.”

  “That’s the cure.”

  Eileen led them to the back of the room, to a long table covered with white craft paper. Lying on the paper was Beth’s and Freddy’s red backpack, along with its contents.

  Just looking at the items brought tears to Savannah’s eyes—a small box of miniature cars and trucks, a coloring book and crayons, a few classic children’s books, and a Spider-Man cape and mask. Among the toys was a plastic container filled with tiny squares of mango, mixed with fresh blueberries.

  Savan
nah thought of how Ethan had cried when he’d named his son’s favorite foods.

  “We found something unsettling on the fabric strap of that backpack,” Eileen told them.

  “Oh, goody,” Dirk said dryly. “What?”

  “The torn ends of several fingernails,” she told them. “It looks like your victim was holding on to it to the very end, and it was ripped out of her hands.”

  “You’re right,” Savannah said. “That is unsettling.”

  On the second table lay Pilar’s floral print dress. Since Savannah had last seen it on Pilar, the garment had been cut down the front, from neckline to hem. No doubt, Dr. Liu had done the cutting before the autopsy, as it was difficult to undress a body in rigor mortis.

  Savannah couldn’t help thinking about the young woman who had put on that dress yesterday morning, never dreaming what her day would hold. She would never have imagined that she was living her last hours of life.

  At times like that Savannah often had a strange, illogical, but overwhelming desire to somehow go back in time and warn a victim.

  “Don’t leave the house today, Pilar,” she would have told her. “Don’t let Beth or Freddy go either. For heaven’s sake, please stay home where it’s safe, all three of you.”

  “Where’s the rock?” Dirk was asking.

  Savannah put foolish fantasies aside and listened to the conversation at hand.

  “It’s over here.” Eileen led them to a nearby workbench, where a large microscope sat beside a white cardboard box about twelve inches square. On the box was a red evidence-identification label, filled out with the appropriate information.

  She handed both Savannah and Dirk surgical gloves, and slipped on a pair herself. Once everyone was adequately fitted, she lifted the lid of the box and set it aside.

  “I didn’t seal the box yet,” she said. “I figured you’d be by to look at the rock this morning—bright and early, knowing you.”

  Dirk grinned. “You know me too well.”

  Eileen did not grin. “Yes, I do. Far better than I ever wanted to, believe me.”

  Savannah winced, but as usual, Dirk didn’t react to the insult. Whether he had tough skin or didn’t realize he was being dissed, she didn’t know. Fortunately, she had the rest of their lives to figure him out.

  Eileen carefully lifted the rock from the box and held it out to Dirk. “There you go,” she said. “Your murder weapon.”

  At first, Savannah saw nothing but a rock. Yes, it was large, nearly filling Dirk’s palm. And it was pointed on one end, making it all the more dangerous. But Savannah saw nothing in the way of blood or hair or anything else biological in nature.

  As though reading her mind, Eileen said, “I know. It’s hard to tell with the naked eye. But under the microscope you can see some blood, some skin cells, and the hairs I told you about. If you like I’ll put it under the scope, and you can see for yourself.”

  “No,” Dirk said quickly. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  Savannah suppressed a smile. Dirk had always been a bit queasy about these matters. He had seen enough in the field to last a lifetime, as had she.

  She possessed a certain degree of curiosity about biological and forensic matters that he didn’t, and she would’ve been interested in seeing the evidence magnified.

  On the other hand, she was well aware that Dirk was the one here, the only one, who was sanctioned by the state to investigate this crime. She was a civilian, and thereby needed to be careful how much she intruded into his territory.

  But she did have one question. “The biological material that you found, was it there on the point, that sharp area on top?”

  “Yes, it was,” Eileen told her. “However, we swabbed the entire rock for DNA.”

  “That’s good. The killer’s palm might’ve been sweaty,” Savannah said.

  “Or,” Dirk added, “some of his skin cells might’ve even rubbed off when he hit her. It must’ve taken quite a bit of force to kill her with one blow.”

  “That’s true,” Eileen agreed. “The human skull does a pretty good job of protecting the brain. It’s tougher than you think.”

  “How about the car?” Savannah asked. “Did you find anything that was unusual?”

  “No. Nothing at all. The objects inside were only what you would expect to find in a family car. We lifted quite a few prints, inside and out, but they all belonged to the family members and Pilar.”

  “That bites,” Dirk said. “I was hoping there’d be a note from the killer, a full confession with his name, address, and phone number on it.”

  “Oh, yeah. That happens all the time.” Eileen carefully set the rock back in the box, replaced the lid, and then sealed it with four long lengths of tape, bearing the word EVIDENCE in red capital letters. Then she signed the label, and wrote the date and time on it as well.

  Dirk sighed. “You be sure to let me know the instant you get those DNA results and not a minute later,” he said with an impatient, bossy tone.

  Eileen gave him a dirty look. “Do not even start with me, Coulter. I mean it. I’ll call you when the results come in. If I haven’t called you, that means I don’t have them. So, don’t bug me about them. Got it?”

  “It’s not like you left a lot of room there for ambiguity,” he mumbled, looking down at the floor.

  Eileen turned to Savannah. “You should know, I’m not going to give him the results over the phone. He’s going to have to come in here and get them in person. Needless to say, he has to bring you, too.”

  Savannah laughed. “He has to bring me, and I have to bring cookies. A double batch. It’s about the cookies, isn’t it?”

  Eileen grinned and slapped Savannah on the back. “Of course, it’s about the cookies. It’s always about the cookies.”

  Chapter 21

  As Savannah drove into Oak Grove Park to deliver Dirk to the scheduled search, her car phone rang. It was Tammy calling with what she liked to call a “breaking news bulletin.”

  “Neal Irwin’s alibi is solid,” she announced with much gleeful enthusiasm—as though she was delivering tidings of joy.

  Most of the time, Tammy was a perfect human being in Savannah’s estimation. A little too perky in the morning before Savannah had consumed her customary two full mugs of coffee, a little too strict in the dietary department, and a little too outspoken about the virtues of “deliberate exercise.” The only exercise that Savannah deliberately participated in was running down a bad guy, hurling him to the ground, pouncing on him, and straddling him, thereby restraining him until Dirk arrived with a pair of cuffs.

  The experts said that a person should do an exercise they enjoy. Savannah enjoyed that. Enormously. Since she figured it burned at least fifty thousand calories, she’d decided that doing it once every six months fulfilled those pesky “deliberate exercise” quotas.

  But there was this other fatal flaw in Tammy’s otherwise sparkling psyche. When one delivered bad news, the deliverer should be mindful of the emotions their news was likely to evoke on the receiving end.

  Words that were likely to plunge those who heard them into a deep well of despair should be spoken in a grave, doom-and-gloom tone of voice. Not with the cheerful enthusiasm one would expect from Minnie Mouse, announcing to thousands of eager boys and girls that Disneyland was now open.

  “That is not good news,” Dirk barked at the phone clipped to Savannah’s visor. “I did not want to hear that, Tammy. He is the only suspect we have, you know.”

  “Well, ex-cu-u-use me!” came the testy retort. “I thought you’d want to hear the truth, even if it’s inconvenient, but no-o-o. Bite my head off, would you?”

  Savannah grinned. It was good to hear Tammy giving Dirk tit-for-tat these days. Since little Vanna had been born, Tammy had experienced a surge of hormones that lowered her sweetness and light level a bit.

  That was fine with Savannah. A tad more vinegar to go along with all the sugar was often just what a gal needed to get along more smoothly in
the wicked ol’ world.

  “How do you know he was where he said he was?” Dirk demanded, unable to let the dream die.

  “I know because I sent my husband and my dad to his workplace, and they verified he was there all day. He never left, not even for lunch. Then Waycross and Dad went to the bar where he said he went after work. Half a dozen people, including the owner, told them that they saw him there all evening, drinking like he was afraid the tap was going to rust closed. They verified that he picked up a girl named Bambi and took her home. They even gave Waycross Bambi’s address.”

  “All right,” Dirk grumbled. “Give me the address. I’ll go check out this Bambi broad.”

  “You don’t need to. Waycross and Dad already did it.”

  “Way to go, Team Tammy!” Savannah said, shaking imaginary pom-poms.

  “Well? What did they find out?” Dirk asked, pom-pom-free.

  “She told them that she brought him home, they watched a dirty movie, fooled around, ordered pizza, ate it, and went to sleep.”

  “And how can you be so sure that he didn’t pay her to say all that?” Dirk insisted.

  “Waycross and Dad aren’t dummies. They checked it out.”

  Dirk still wasn’t convinced. “How?”

  “My dad asked her if she’d mind showing them on her cable rental menu where she bought the pay-per-view porn. She did, and there they were. They’d ordered two, the first at 9:38 p.m., Against All Bods, and at 10:57 p.m., Frisky Business.”

  “I suppose Waycross and your dad checked out the pizza place, too?” Dirk asked, starting to sound a bit impressed, whether he wanted to be or not.

  “Yes, they did. After they left Bambi, they went to the pizza parlor. The manager looked it up on their computer and showed it to Waycross and Dad. They delivered a large pizza with everything on it to that address at 11:28 p.m. Waycross even insisted on talking to the guy who delivered it. A guy named Mel. Mel had no problem remembering Neal. He said he answered the door wearing nothing but some little red bikini underwear. Mel says he’s scarred for life.”

  “Aren’t we all,” Savannah said.

  “Me more than you,” Dirk complained. “I just lost my last suspect.”