The Logan Files - Pain Center: The Logan Files

by Marshall Huffman

  “Don’t you have to get dressed?” he finally asked.

  “We smell like sex,” she said and giggled.

  It caught him totally off guard. He had never heard her giggle before.

  “Look, about last night...,” he started but she interrupted.

  “Yeah. Wasn’t it great? You sure aren’t as old as you profess to be Mr. Detective. I’m sore this morning,” she said frankly.

  “Damn Carrie,” he replied.

  “Well, I am, and it’s your fault. I’m not complaining though,” she said and giggled again.

  “Carrie we can’t be doing this. It just isn’t right,” he protested.

  “Dully noted. I’ll just talk to the other guy between your legs. He seems to know more about it than you do,” she replied, jumping up off the bed and going to the bathroom.

  Logan finished dressing and put on his gun and slid his wallet in his pocket. Carrie came out of the bathroom in a shirt that was unbuttoned. She looked even more beautiful in the morning light. How the hell could that be, Logan wondered?

  “I’ll let myself out,” she said sitting back down on the bed with her legs open.

  “Carrie,” he said, trying not to look.

  “Should I come back tonight?” she asked.

  “Look, I don’t know what to think about all of this. I mean, you know how I feel about our age difference,” he said.

  “Don’t start that crap again. What is done is done and unless you really don’t want me here...” she didn’t finish the sentence. Instead she reached out and unzipped his fly. She opened it up and said, “You want this to go on?”

  In a squeaky voice she muttered “You bet lady,” out the side of her mouth.

  “See, it’s okay with him,” she said.

  Logan broke out laughing.

  “I guess you went to a higher authority,” he said.

  “Yep, I went to the brains of the outfit,” she said and zipped his fly back up for him.

  He looked down at her and kissed her softly on the lips.

  “I don’t know where this is all going to end up but I’m glad about last night,” he said as they parted lips.

  He headed for the door and she flashed him as he looked back.

  He laughed and said, “You’re a naughty girl Carrie Brown.”

  “Maybe you should cuff me and ...” but he closed the door before she could finish. She smiled and headed for the shower.

  * * *

  Logan drove to the morgue and parked around the back. He checked to see if anyone was around before he slipped in the back door. Myler was in his office.

  “No latté?” he said as Logan came in and sat down.

  “Sorry. I was running a little behind this morning,” he said and laughed.

  Myler just looked at him like he had lost his mind.

  “Anything new on either of our Jane Does?” Logan asked.

  “Our second girl’s name is Donna Landers. She is a local girl. Lives downtown in the Sutter Place Apartments. Her parents live in New Castle. I have not notified them yet. You will need to call them to make a positive ID and claim the body. Here is what I have on her so far,” Myler said, handing over a thin file.

  Logan flipped through it. She was a student at IU-PUI, age twenty-four, unmarried and lived with a roommate.

  “Does the roommate know yet?”

  “Not yet. I was waiting on you for that little pleasantry as well,” Myler replied.

  “You are too kind,” Logan replied.

  “Ain’t it true?” Myler answered.

  “I need to let the Chief know. So far only you and I know about this.”

  “And the cops that found her,” Myler reminded him.

  “They already know they are dead meat if they let one word of this out,” he said.

  Logan called the Chief and brought him up to speed. He was less than happy but took some satisfaction in the fact that this time they at least had a name and that could potentially lead to other clues.

  When he hung up he said to Myler, “Your young man, Kevin, isn’t it? Does he know about this yet?”

  “Nope and I intend to keep it that way. Nothing is coming out of this office,” Myler said adamantly.

  “Good. I’m going to go see the roommate. Hopefully she can lead us to some sort of clue as to what this is all about.

  “That would be too simple. Listen, I have a colleague that I called this morning. He wants to see Lander’s scalp. Do you have any objections to him taking a look at it? He may be able to shed some light on what the holes were for,” Myler said.

  “It’s fine with me as long as it goes no further than that. If he opens his mouth to the press I will have to do bodily harm to you,” Logan said, only half kidding.

  “Oooh, I quiver with fear. You seem kind of spry today, get some last night?”

  “You are a demented old fart.”

  “So you did, huh?”

  “Go call your friend so you will have something constructive to do,” Logan said, turning to leave.

  “You’re blushing Logan,” Myler yelled after him. Logan just stomped down the hall.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Logan located the apartment and knocked on the door.

  “Just a second,” a female voice shouted.

  A few seconds later the door was flung open and a young woman stood there. Logan’s eyes opened wide. She was around twenty-five, strikingly beautiful, very tall and had on nothing more than a push-up bra and very scanty panties. Her high-heels made her seem even taller.

  “Oh,” she said, making no attempt to cover up.

  “Uh, maybe I should come back at a better time,” he finally stammered.

  “Who are you?”

  “Sorry. Detective John Logan. IPD,” he said, fumbling for his badge.

  “Okay. Sorry about this. I was expecting Donna’s boyfriend. I love to shock him. He is so shy he turns beet red, about the same color as you. He is also a scumbag and I don’t know what she sees in him,” she said and giggled.

  “Yes. Well, it is some shock.”

  “Gets him every time. He is never sure what I will turn up in. Anyway, what can I do for you John?” she said.

  No detective, no Logan, it was like they had been friends for years.

  “I need to talk to you about your roommate, Donna.”

  “Donna? Why, is she in some kind of trouble?”

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t get your name.”

  “Oh. How rude of me. I’m Stacy. Stacy Deals. Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand formally.

  “Stacy, I need to ask you a few questions. Would you like to put something else on? It may take a few minutes.”

  “Come on in. I’ll get a top,” she said and turned to walk down the hall. The panties were nothing more than a thin strip of cloth between her cheeks. He decided Donna’s boyfriend must get some very interesting views. She came back a few minutes later with a see-through robe that covered almost nothing. If this was her modest look he wondered what she looked like when she was wild and crazy.

  “Now John, you wanted to talk about Donna. What did that girl do now?”

  “When was the last time you saw Donna?”

  “A couple of days ago. Just before I left for work.”

  “Work? What do you do for work?”

  “I install computer networks and manage link-ups for bank acquisitions,” she said and smiled.

  “You install computers?”

  “Yep. I just finished a job for Third National. They took over a small bank chain in southern Indiana. I got back last night,” she said.

  “And Donna wasn’t here?”

  “I don’t know. I got in around 1:30 a.m. off a private flight. I didn’t check,” Stacy replied.

  “So it was two days ago that you last saw her?”

  “More like three. She wasn’t here when I left. I assumed she spent the night at Allen’s place.”

  “Allen?”

  “Allen Boneing. Isn’t
that a hoot? Boneing. I can’t decide if that is a great name for a guy or the world’s worst. Can you imagine being introduced as Mrs. Boneing?” she said and laughed.

  “Allen is her boyfriend?” Logan said, trying to keep the conversation on track.

  “On and off. Mostly on lately,” Stacy said, crossing her long legs.

  “Where can I find...Allen,” he decided to say.

  “Look, just tell me what Donna has done. Has anything happened to her? Is she alright?”

  “I’m sorry Stacy. We found Donna’s body in a park early this morning,” Logan said.

  She went pale and just looked at him.

  “I…I…I don’t understand. She is dead?”

  “I’m afraid so. I am investigating the circumstances. I want to get the person that did this but I will need your help. Can you do that for me?”

  “Donna? Dead? There is no mistake? It was Donna for sure?”

  “We have a fingerprint match. It’s her,” he assured Stacy.

  She buried her face in her hands and sobbed softly. Logan let her cry. He looked around the room while she was sobbing. One wall was painted bright blue and the other three were loud green. The art work, if you could call it that looked like it was done by someone in the third grade. A picture of a statuesque woman in black leather from head to toe hung on the blue wall. She was in spiked boots and had a whip in one hand. Her other hand was on her hip. Below it was: Submit You Pig. Logan just shook his head. He let her cry for a few minutes longer.

  “Stacy, I need you to pull yourself together. I have to ask you some more questions,” he said.

  “Donna is dead. Now what am I going to do? I can’t afford this place by myself,” she said.

  John was at a loss for words. Was she crying for her friend or her financial situation?

  “I need to know where Allen lives. Do you have his address?”

  “Yeah,” she said and got up and went to what looked to be an antique school desk. She opened the top and took out a piece of paper. She handed it to John.

  “Name, address, phone and cell number,” she said and plopped back down.

  “Did she have any friends besides Allen?”

  “A few. She didn’t go out much. She liked to read a lot. Every time I came home she was just starting or finishing a book,” Stacy said.

  “Mind if I look in her room?”

  “Help yourself. Hers is the second one on the right just down the hall,” she said, not getting up.

  Logan excused himself and walked down the hall. The pictures that lined the wall were all black and white. He opened the door to her room and stood there getting a mental picture. Boxes and boxes of books were stacked all over the place. They seemed to fill every space. There were no pictures on any of the walls and no pictures of family lying about. The bed was neatly made and the floor was clean and cleared.

  He finally entered the room and went to the desk. He looked at everything carefully, not touching anything. He put on his gloves and opened the top drawer. Books. He picked some up and read the titles. The Story of O. The Maid and The Master. Pain and Sexuality. They were all the same theme. He opened the second drawer and found pens, pencils and markers, common stationary supplies.

  He found an address book but there were no names or numbers in it. In the last drawer he found a metal box. He took it out and sat it on the bed. It was locked but it was a cheap one and Logan had it open in seconds. It was full of pictures of her. In most she was tied up with heavy rope in various positions. She was in handcuffs in some of them and other restraints that Logan didn’t know the names of. There were fifty pictures in all. He put them in his pocket.

  He continued around the room, checking her dresser drawers and end table drawer. He found a matchbook that said ‘The Cave’. He had heard of the place but didn’t know anything about it. He put that in his pocket as well. In the back of her closet he found an assortment of sex toys, handcuffs, and leg cuffs. Those he decided not to take. He wasn’t about to dump them out on his desk back at the station. When he finished he walked back to the front room.

  Stacy was sprawled out on the couch, her flimsy robe hanging mostly off her.

  “Find anything useful?” she asked.

  “A few things. Look, I have to ask, were you two…you know...lovers?”

  “Lovers? Donna and I? You got the wrong girl John. I like men, plain and simple. I ain’t no damn lesbian. That shit’s just not right,” she said, sitting up.

  “Okay, I just needed to clarify what the situation was here,” Logan said.

  “Well it sure the hell isn’t that. She has Allen. I have...others,” she said at last and smiled.

  “Anyone else interested in Donna?”

  “I don’t think so. She never mentioned it if there was. Like I said, she didn’t go out much.”

  “Anyone stalking her or mad at her?”

  “Don’t think so,” she replied.

  “Alright Stacy. I’m going to have a crime scene crew come over here and go through Donna’s room. You might want to have a little more on. They won’t be old codgers like me,” Logan said.

  “Why John, you aren’t old, just experienced. Experience is a good thing.”

  Logan blushed.

  “You’re cute when you blush like that,” she said and giggled again.

  “Anyway, I’ve sent for them so you may want to change into something a little more substantial,” he said again.

  “Okay daddy,” she said and giggled. She was still giggling when he left.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Logan always got a feeling about a person within the first five minutes of meeting them. They were good, bad, or trying to fake something. He disliked Allen Boneing immediately. He had three earrings on one ear and five on the other. He had a pin through his eyebrow and a smartass look on his face.

  “Allen, I want you to tell me exactly where you have been for the past three days. Take it easy and think about it,” Logan said calmly.

  “Shit man, I don’t keep track of that stuff. I go here and there. I do stuff. Half the time I just sit around listening to music,” he said.

  “I appreciate that but I need a more specific timeline. Start with last night and work backward if that helps.”

  “You want what I ate and when I took a crap too?”

  Logan rubbed his chin, silently counting to ten.

  “If you think that it’s important, then put it down. Your girlfriend was murdered. I would think you would want to help,” Logan said.

  “She ain’t my girlfriend. She is just a fun jump. She’s into all kinds of weird stuff. I dig her okay but she ain’t my girlfriend,” he said.

  “Even so, I need you to list where you were and who you were with.”

  “Why? So you can go talking to them and get them all stirred up?”

  “To verify your story. That’s correct,” Logan said.

  “Bullshit on that. They will all get pissed at me. I ain’t gonna get them all pissed off at me. No way,” Allen said, tossing the pad of paper back on the coffee table.

  It slid across the dirty top, knocked over a partial can of beer and landed at Logan’s feet. Logan looked around at the dump Allen called his pad. It had dirty clothes everyplace. Half eaten boxes of pizza and other fast food containers littered the floor. Everything in the apartment was a pit. It looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in several years. What the hell did Donna see in a looser like Allen, he wondered?

  “Allen. I’m not going to ask you again. Write down everything you can remember about the past three days. Don’t make me angry. You are not going to like it if I get pissed,” Logan said.

  “So get pissed; like I could care. You cops can’t do shit anymore. All I have to do is yell brutality and I’m off the hook. Get as pissed as you want. It don’t mean anything to me man,” Allen said.

  Faster than Allen could react, Logan picked up a thick phonebook and slapped him upside his head. He fell over, yelling and clutching his ear. Log
an landed a hard blow to his ribcage.

  “Listen you little shit. I eat little jerks like you for lunch. You want to play tough with me, you had better be tough.”

  He slammed the book into Allen’s ribcage again.

  “Ready to play in the big leagues moron?” Logan said.

  Allen curled up in a ball and didn’t say anything.

  “Sit up you piece of crap,” Logan said, grabbing him by his earrings and pulling him up into a sitting position.

  “Look at me. Now I’m not gonna ask you again. Write down where you have been and who you have been with. Got it?”

  Allen looked at him with hatred in his eyes but he picked up the pad of paper and started writing. Logan suppressed a smile. The punk was all mouth and no guts. When Allen was finished, he put the pad on the coffee table.

  “Anything else?” he asked sullenly.

  Logan looked the pad over before speaking, “Who is Cole Johnson?”

  “A friend, sort of. We kind of hang together from time to time. He has some good connections,” Allen said.

  “Connections? Drugs?”

  “Sure man. He can get the best stuff on the street,” Allen replied.

  “And Sandy Keeler?”

  “Just a good lay. I shack up with her from time to time. She is wild. Man she can wear you out. That chick can go all night,” he replied without hesitancy.

  “Alright Allen. I’ll check out your story. If it jives, I’ll be out of your life. If not,” Logan said, dropping the phone book on the table, “I’ll be back for another little lesson in manners.”

  “Whatever,” Allen said.

  * * *

  When Logan got back to the station he started making calls. He got vague affirmations that most of Allen’s story was true. Maybe the timeline was off some but the general impression he got was that Allen was telling the truth. As much as he disliked the jerk, he didn’t seem like the kind that could kill like that or have the skills to cut someone up so professionally. He was probably lucky if he could get his pants on the right way.

  Logan emptied his pockets and flipped through the pictures. She was a pretty girl. Why would she team up with someone like Allen? What makes women become involved with scum like that with tattoos, piercings, a foul mouth and a ‘don’t give a shit’ attitude. They must not think very highly of themselves if that is the best they can do. His phone rang, bring him back to reality.