The Harry Starke Series Books 4 -6: The Harry Starke Series Boxed Set 2 (The Harry Starke Novels - The Boxed Sets)

by Blair Howard

  “Okay. That’s good. If it’s a call to the burner, which I’m sure it will be, take notes. We need every word. Better yet, Tim, set her up with Google Voice and then she can record the damned call. Yes?”

  “A better option would be Call Recorder Pro. I’ll set her up with that one.”

  “Good. Jacque, if money is involved, pay whatever they ask. Tim, she’ll need a credit card to go with the alias.”

  “You got it. It’s already part of the package.”

  “Okay, good. Jacque, Kalliste is your baby. Work with Tim and see what you can find. Make a date if you can, but do not go in alone. You can use Heather as backup. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir, and thank you.”

  Thank me? What for? And then I realized that this was the first time in the almost ten years she’d worked for me that I’d let her be part of an investigation.

  “You’re welcome, Jacque, but for God’s sake be careful.”

  Jacque’s my personal assistant, but more than that, I like the kid. She has attitude, and can cut you down to size in just a couple words, but people always underestimate her. Including me. I was already worried.

  I nodded at her, and then I turned to Bob.

  “Okay, Bob, I want you to work with Amanda. You’ll help her with her investigation in any way she might need, and in any way you think necessary. The two of you should make a good team.”

  He grinned at me, then at Amanda. She was still glaring at me.

  “So, the first thing you do is spend some time together planning what you need to do; you can use my office. Bob, you are her protection, and you’ll provide muscle if and when she needs it. And you might as well know now: they have a security team up there, and they ain’t your regular rent-a-cops. They’re tough, and their boss, Conrad Rösche, is even tougher. Danny McDaniel says he’s crazy. I’m holding you personally responsible for her safety. She goes nowhere near that school, or anywhere else, on her own. You got that Bob, Amanda?”

  “You got it, boss.”

  “Harry—”

  “No. It’s my way or no way. I mean it, Amanda.”

  “Oh for God’s sake.” She was exasperated, but I knew she would do as she was asked, though somewhat truculently.

  She gathered her things, turned to Bob and said, “Okay, Iron Man. Let’s go.” And together they left the room to go to my office. Bob grinned at me as he headed out the door.

  “I want regular updates,” I told him, “and don’t let her out of your sight.”

  “As if. I love her almost as much as you do,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

  I winced. The room was full of people, including Kate. Time to go. “Tim,” I said, “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll check in with you later.

  “Kate, I think the first thing we need to do it talk to Erika Padgett. Have you tried calling her?”

  “Twice,” Kate said. “Last night and then again this morning, but she’s not answering. The calls are going straight to voicemail. Hey. You were a bit hard on Amanda, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe. Let’s go.”

  Chapter15

  I knew where she lived, more or less, but I punched Erika Padgett’s address into the car’s GPS system anyway. We were maybe fifteen minutes away, depending on traffic. Which turned out to be heavy. It took us almost thirty minutes. The address was an end-unit condo that backed up against the river.

  I pulled into the driveway and we sat for a moment, getting our bearings. Heritage Landing is a gated community of high-end dwellings. I say high end. You could probably find something really nice for around $350,000. The one we found ourselves outside, however, was probably double that.

  Kate thumbed the bell, and we waited. She thumbed it again, and we waited some more. Nothing.

  “Doesn’t look like she’s home.” I walked to the garage, stood on tiptoe, and looked in through the window. The white Mercedes was inside. I walked back to the front door.

  “Let’s take a look around back,” I said, and Kate followed as I stepped carefully around the side of the building.

  But the windows all had blinds, even the sliding glass patio door.

  “What do you think?” I asked. “Want to call her again?”

  She did. No answer. “Let’s see if the next-door neighbor’s at home,” she said.

  She was. A woman in her mid-thirties, she was helpful enough, and friendly, especially when Kate showed her ID, but could tell us only that she hadn’t seen Erika leave for work that morning, which was unusual.

  “How unusual? Kate asked.

  “It never happens. She’s always working. She’s a vet, you know.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Last night. She came home from work about six thirty, and left again about an hour later.”

  “Did she drive, or did someone pick her up?”

  “Oh, she drove. She doesn’t have many visitors.”

  “Did you see her come back?”

  “No, but I know when she came home. I always know when she comes home. I have a dog, Harris, he’s a Jack Russell. Sleeps on the back of the couch so that he can look out of the window. He sees and hears everything, and barks. He woke me up at eleven fifty-five. Then I heard the garage door open and close. They adjoin. They’re so noisy.”

  “Well, thank, you… Mrs.?” Kate asked.

  “Collins. Lindsey Collins, and it’s miss,” she said, casting a somewhat coy, sideways glance at me.

  “Thank you, Miss Collins,” Kate said. “We’ll take another look around. Here’s my card. If you can think of anything that might be helpful, please give me a call.”

  We returned to the front door and Kate thumbed the bell again, and we waited. Nothing.

  “I don’t like it,” I said. “The car’s here. We know she came home last night. She’s not answering her phone. I think there’s cause for concern, don’t you?”

  “You’re not suggesting we break in, are you?”

  “Yep! That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” I said, trying the doorknob. It was locked.

  I looked at her.

  She shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Go for it.”

  I took out my picks, and in less than a minute I had the door open. There was an awful smell about the place, and it was quiet. So quiet I could hear a clock ticking somewhere. Kate followed me into the small foyer and then into the living room—both of which were empty. Everything appeared to be in its place, all clean and tidy. The same with the bathroom: spic and span. Next, a small bedroom: nothing. Finally, we were at the half-open door of what had to be the master bedroom. Again, all looked neat and tidy. Except… there was a pile of clothes on the bed, which didn’t look as if it had been slept in. Some were neatly folded, some were still on racks. And the stench was stronger. I walked into the room, past the adjoining bathroom door, and then around the foot of the bed.

  “Oh shit!”

  “What?” Kate pushed me aside to look.

  The two folding closet doors were wide open. The woman was naked, suspended by her neck from the rail inside. Her legs were spread, stretched straight out. Her hands were resting in her lap. Her bottom was barely off the floor. There was a large blue dildo lying on the carpet between her legs. And… she’d lost control of her bowels when she died, it looked like, which accounted for the terrible stink.

  We both backed carefully out of the room and out onto the front porch.

  “Call it in, now,” I said.

  She did. And then she called Doc Sheddon.

  A nearby cruiser was the first to arrive, followed less than a minute later by another. Kate had the two officers secure the scene and start a visitor log. Detective Sergeant Lonnie Guest arrived a few minutes later. At first I didn’t even recognize him. He must have lost at least a hundred pounds since I’d last seen him.

  “Hey LT. Hiya, Harry. Long time no see. Whadda we have?”

  “Lonnie,” Kate said. “I’m off the clock, so officially this is yours, but
that doesn’t mean I’m out. You hear? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah. I understand: it’s mine, but it’s yours, right?” he said with a grin.

  “You got it brother. We’ve got what looks like an accidental death, but I want a CSI team down here ASAP, so get that organized.”

  “But, Kate, if it’s accidental….”

  “I said it looks like it was accidental. Get the team.”

  He looked puzzled, but nodded and made the call.

  “Now we wait,” she said to me. Then: “Are you okay?”

  “Hell no I’m not okay,” I replied. “When is finding a body ever okay?” I shook my head, turned to Lonnie and said, “And what the hell happened to you? You look like a damned stick insect.”

  He grinned at me. “Didn’t Kate tell you? I had a lap band put in. I lost eighty-eight pounds in six months.”

  “You got to be kidding me,” I said. “How the hell did you manage that?”

  “Oh give it up, Harry,” Kate grabbed my arm. “Here’s the ME.”

  Sheddon was indeed just easing himself out of his black SUV. “Hey, Kate, Harry, Lonnie. Wow. Lookin’ good my man.”

  Lonnie grinned at him.

  “So what do we have? I thought you two were working the Johnston case.”

  “The Johnston case?”

  “Forget it, Lonnie,” Kate said, but I cringed nonetheless.

  “You didn’t hear that,” she said. “You understand? I’ll explain later.”

  He looked perplexed, but clamped his mouth shut. Smart man, Lonnie. A lot smarter than I always gave him credit for.

  “What we have,” Kate said, “is what appears to be an accident.”

  “An accident? If that’s what it is, why am I here? Jeez, Kate, I don’t get much time off.”

  “I said it appears to be an accident.”

  “Ah. Let’s suit up and go take a look, then. There’s gear enough for all in the back of my car.”

  Five minutes later, dressed from head to toe in Tyvek and wearing latex gloves, the four of us stood together in a semicircle around the remains of Erika Padgett.

  “Whew. She’s a bit ripe,” Sheddon said.

  “Autoerotic asphyxiation?” Lonnie asked.

  Sheddon shook his head, stared down at her. “I don’t think so. Someone has gone to a great deal of trouble to set it up to look like it, but…. See? Look here. The cord used to strangle—or, hang her, is trending upward, but the ligature mark is lower, and almost perfectly horizontal around the neck, and it ends here… and here.” He pointed. “The knot is at the right side, at the back of her ear, as you can see, but there’s no bruise. Had she self-inflicted, the ligature marks would be angled from under the chin upward toward the ear, and the knot would have dug into the soft flesh here. Nope. This is a homicide. She was strangled, probably with the cord, and then suspended. Oh, and whoever did it was maybe a little taller than her, because the ligature marks are horizontal.”

  He leaned in close, squinted through his glasses, and touched the corner of her mouth with the tip of his latex-gloved finger.

  “She was gagged, too, probably with duct tape. There’s adhesive residue around her mouth.”

  “PMI?” I asked.

  “Not long. Six to nine hours, I should think. Rigor is not too far along. I can’t get to the rectum to take her temperature, but….” He slid a hand under her armpit. “Yes, she’s still warm, and lividity is not yet complete. So, between midnight and three in the morning. I’ll be able to give you a more accurate time when I’ve done the post mortem.”

  “That tallies with what the neighbor said. We know she was alive just before midnight, because she heard her.”

  Sheddon nodded thoughtfully, but he didn’t answer. He just went on about his business, clucking like an old duck.

  “Kate,” I took her by the arm and led her out into the kitchen. “We need to look around before CSI takes over.” Then I had a thought.

  I went back into the bedroom, “Doc. You say there’s adhesive around her mouth. What about prints? If she was manhandled into position, we might get lucky.”

  “Fingerprints on her flesh? It’s possible, though highly improbable.” He looked down at her. “We can’t do it here. They’ll need a tent, and there’s no room. Hmmm. If we’re going to do it, we need to move quickly. Any prints there might be will be gone within twenty-four hours. We can’t mess with her hands and feet. I’ll have to bag those, and the bags will have to stay on throughout the process. I’ll have the techs process the scene and the body and we’ll whiz her away to the lab. In the meantime, Kate, I suggest you get Willis organized. He’s the best latent-print man I know. Have him meet us at the lab in, say, an hour. Now, get out of my way and let me get on with it.”

  Kate pulled out her phone. I said to Sheddon, “Doc, I need to take a quick look around the room and the rest of the house before you turn the techs loose. I’ll stay out of your way, okay?”

  He nodded, absently, and turned back to the body.

  “Lonnie: keep everyone out until we get through, please. Let’s do this.”

  Kate finished her call quickly, and then we got to work. We touched nothing we didn’t have to. I opened the dresser drawers and carefully lifted items of clothing to see what might be hidden beneath. What few items there were on the dresser and nightstands and on the vanity in the bathroom I photographed with my iPhone. The medicine cabinet was almost bare, just a few vitamins and one prescription container of Belsomra, a sleep med. Only one thing stood out: there was an almost full cup of hot chocolate—now cold—and a Kindle on the nightstand beside the bed.

  Okay, I thought. I’m going to get naked, strangle myself to achieve an orgasm, so I need hot chocolate and a book? I don’t think so, but what the hell do I know? Hello… what’s this?

  “Kate. Look at this.”

  Under the Kindle, which almost completely covered it, I could see what appeared to be a slim black leather book. It was either a journal or an appointment book. I photographed the Kindle, and then lifted it carefully, by its edges, and placed it on the bed. I picked up the book and opened it. It was one of those weekly planners, and there were literally hundreds of dates and appointments noted in it. I photographed it, placed it in a paper evidence bag, had Kate sign the bag, and then set it aside: it was going with us back to the police department. The Kindle was password-protected, so that too would have to wait. I bagged it and set it aside.

  “Kate,” I said, as we re-entered the living room. “I don’t see a computer, iPad, or her phone.”

  I took out my own phone and punched in the number Dr. Jepson had given us. I held it to my ear; it was ringing. I walked around the apartment, listening. Nothing. It rang four times, and then the call went to voicemail.

  “Find anything?” Doc Sheldon leaned his back against the doorjamb.

  I shut the phone down and pocketed it. “Just a datebook, and a cup of hot chocolate by the bed. Nothing else.”

  “Well I found these in her hair.” He held up a small paper evidence bag.

  “What are they?” Kate asked.

  “Hairs. Small, white, non-human, I think, similar to those we found on Emily. If so, we have a physical connection.”

  “When will you know?”

  “A couple of days, or so…. Okay,” he said after a short pause. “I’m done here. Can I let the boys in? We need to get her photographed and out of here if we’re going to try for prints.”

  “Yes, I think we’re done, too,” Kate said. “Harry?”

  “Yep. What time is it? I need a beer.”

  “I couldn’t eat a thing, but there’s the Brewhaus on Frazier. It’s close.”

  “That’s fine. I couldn’t eat either. Let’s go get a quick beer and then head on up to the school and talk to Her Majesty.”

  “Okay. I’ll call and let her know we’re coming.”

  “The hell you will. I want to catch her with her pants down.”

  “Not literall
y, I hope.”

  I grinned at her. “Doc, we’ll see you later. Kate, you drive. I want to talk to Willis, let him know what we need.”

  The Brewhaus on Frazier is a popular spot on the North side, a German-American bar-cum-restaurant that specializes in bratwurst and schnitzel; the beer’s good too. The only problem is the lack of parking, but we arrived just before eleven, right at opening time, so I was reasonably sure we wouldn’t have to wait.

  Kate went inside to grab a table and hopefully order drinks while I sat in the car and made a couple of calls, the most important of which was to Mike Willis, head of CSI operations in Chattanooga.

  Willis is a strange little man, very strange, but there’s no one I’d rather have working a crime scene for me, because the man is a genius. He’s been in charge of his department for as long as I can remember, long before I became a cop more than nineteen years ago. He kind of reminds me of the White Rabbit in Wonderland: he’s always in a hurry.

  “Hey, Harry, my man. How the hell are yah?” The greeting was typical of him, and the tone genuine.

  “I’m good, Mike. You?”

  “Yeah, yeah, good, but busy. What can I do for you?”

  “They’re taking a body into Doc Sheddon’s dead end. She’s naked, and she’s been abused, tied up, tortured. We need her body checked for prints. Can you do it?”

  “How long has she been dead?”

  “The doc says six to nine hours.”

  “Okay. The window of opportunity is closing, so I’ll get right on it. They haven’t handled the body, have they?”

  “No more than necessary. They cut her down and lifted her onto the gurney. Draped her with a cloth. No plastic.”

  “I’ll do what I can, Harry. No promises. Talk to you later.”

  Chapter 16

  Fifteen minutes and one beer each later, we were back in the car and heading north on Cherokee Boulevard towards Signal Mountain Road.

  “Okay, Kate,” I said as I swung the car around one tight bend after another. “I didn’t take to Jones. But now I’m really wondering what she’s hiding. How could she not tell us about those two other missing girls?” It wasn’t a question I expected an answer to, and I didn’t get one. “And now we have another dead body, and it too is connected to the college. Loosely I admit, but… well, that’s four. It can’t be a coincidence.”