by C. M. Sutter
“Let’s order a few drinks and catch up. After that, we’ll eat, then you can open your presents,” Mom said.
“I’m thirty-one, Mom. I don’t really need presents and a cake.”
“Nonsense. As long as I’m alive, my kids will have birthday parties. Maybe someday I’ll even throw parties for my grandkids.”
Amber and I rolled our eyes.
“In due time, Mom. So, we looked at condos today and found a beautiful one available in Ashbury Woods. It’s a fairly new complex on the south side of town. I just might put an offer in on it tomorrow.”
“That sounds wonderful, honey. Here comes the waitress. Let’s order.”
Prime rib was Saturday night’s special, and we all ordered it. I couldn’t remember the last time I had prime rib, a baked potato with sour cream, and steamed vegetables. Hot bread and butter was delivered to the table first.
Mom and Bruce each drank their usual—a Brandy Old Fashioned. I grew up in an era where all adults drank them. I was sure anyone over sixty in Wisconsin still did. The memories of my youth returned, and I smiled. I recalled sneaking around at dinner parties, plucking the speared maraschino cherries and orange slices out of our guests’ Brandy Old Fashioneds and gobbling them down.
“Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” Mom pushed back her chair and headed to the nearest waitress. They whispered to each other, and Mom returned to the table.
“That was subtle,” I said, jokingly.
“Fine—whatever, I gave them the cake when we walked in. They’re going to cut it and bring it out with thirty-one lit candles on it. Yay! You can open your presents after that.”
I laughed. “Sure, no problem.”
The waitress arrived with a cart. The candlelit sheet cake, already cut into three-inch squares, was placed in the center of our table. “Happy Birthday, Jade” was written in brilliant fuchsia lettering on white frosting.
“Hurry. Make a wish and blow out the candles.”
I smiled, closed my eyes, and wished that we’d catch this sick killer. I blew out the candles.
The marble cake was moist and rich, and a three-inch-square piece was more than plenty. The gold-colored carafe of coffee was filled twice. While I opened my gifts, Bruce told us the most recent off-color jokes he’d heard at work.
The waitress appeared at our table one more time. She carried a bottle of wine cradled in her arm.
“Did you order wine, Mom?” I asked.
The waitress spoke up before Mom could answer. “This is for the birthday girl.”
“Thank you, but I don’t think we ordered it,” I said.
“It’s from the gentleman at the bar, ma’am. He said to tell you Happy Birthday.”
She handed me the wine bottle, swaddled in a white linen tea towel to catch the drips, and walked away. Amber again reminded me of the fortune cookie.
“Geez, Sis, your fortune cookie keeps coming true. Remember what it said? ‘A stranger will present you with a gift.’” Amber went on to tell Mom and Bruce how I’d received a floral arrangement at work last week.
I turned the bottle to look at the label. It read, Sweet Melissa—Sweet Sparkling Red Wine.
“Son of a bitch. Don’t touch this bottle.” I ripped my badge out of my purse and leaped from my chair. I grabbed the waitress by the arm, startling her. “Show me the man that ordered the wine.”
“Excuse me?”
I flashed my badge at her. “I’m a cop, now where is he?”
“Oh dear—right this way, he’s at the bar.”
I raced through the main dining room and into the bar, with the waitress on my heels. “Which guy?”
“Oh—that’s odd, he’s gone. He was standing next to that stool, right there.” She pointed to a barstool that a young lady had just sat down on.
“Do you see him anywhere?”
The waitress scanned the bar. “Sorry, I don’t.”
I approached the woman that had just sat down. “Excuse me, ma’am, you’re going to have to get up.” I raised my voice above the crowd. “I want this entire bar cleared right now. Sorry, it’s a police matter.” I told the bartenders not to touch anything and to get the manager out here. I turned to the waitress again. “I’ll need the man’s description, and do you have camera surveillance outside?”
“Just at the door. It doesn’t go out into the parking lot very far.”
I glanced around, my eyes darting from corner to corner. “What about these cameras at the bar.”
“They’re fake and only used as a deterrent so people don’t get too crazy. This is a nice establishment.”
“All right, don’t go anywhere.”
“But ma’am, I have tables to wait on.”
“Not anymore—stay put. This is a police matter.”
I made a call to the North Bend police dispatch and headed back to the banquet room.
“Mom, Bruce, Amber, you’re leaving now. Amber, go home with Mom. I have a policeman on the way to escort you home safely.”
“But—”
I interrupted my mom, “No buts. You’re going home and lock the doors behind you. Don’t let anyone in. Do you understand me? Take everything with you except that wine. Don’t touch it. Mom, please don’t argue with me. Amber, you’re in charge—now go wait in the vestibule. The police officer is on his way.”
I called Jack. “I need you at Stanley’s now. The killer was just here. Get Kyle and Dan. I need them too.”
Chapter 33
Hurry—go before you’re seen! The voices had come to life once again.
He laughed and exited through the deliveries driveway. “What? Now you’re concerned about my welfare? Aren’t you always telling me when I should kill somebody?”
Dime peeled out of the driveway and was long gone before the first officer arrived. He chuckled as he imagined Jade’s expression when she looked at the wine label. He wished he could have seen her face.
How appropriate was that? I couldn’t have gotten any luckier if I had tried. A fitting birthday gift if I do say so myself. I wouldn’t want you to become too complacent on your birthday, Sergeant.
He’d timed it just right. Today, Jade and her sister were supposed to look at condos with Melissa—poor Melissa. She was incapacitated and couldn’t make it.
Dime knew Melissa’s absence had to have bothered Jade. It was part of her training as a detective—she couldn’t help herself. He doubted if her mind was entirely focused on her birthday party anyway.
Bingo! What a brilliant idea the wine was. Now she’ll be frantic, wondering what happened to the Realtor.
That little hint, the subtle nudge, would send the entire city of North Bend into a tailspin. Everyone that had to leave the restaurant would be talking about it. The search for Melissa would begin soon—he’d planned it perfectly.
Melissa had been dead for four full days already, and she was most likely beginning to stink, especially in that closed-up barn. Blowflies laid eggs on corpses soon after death, and the eggs turned into maggots in no time. Dime was sure Melissa must be a mess by now. He grinned at the thought.
I have to come up with an idea for her to be found in the next day or so. It’s time for the sergeant to get busy.
Dime drove home and went downstairs. He got comfortable on his wooden chair with his notebook in his lap and a Stella Artois on the side table. He turned to the dog-eared page for Melissa and filled in more information. He’d be starting a new page soon.
He thought about Melissa’s briefcase and the information that lay inside. He got up and walked to the bookcase. With his strong body pressed against its heavy weight, he pushed it aside and reached into the wall. He felt the briefcase handle and pulled it out. Back on the chair, he rummaged through her paperwork. He knew what he was looking for. Somebody had to be in charge of maintaining that property. If the current owners ever hoped to sell that estate, the grounds would have to look pristine. He remembered the lawn appeared due for a cutting when he was there last Tuesday.<
br />
The name of the lawn service has to be in here somewhere, he thought.
He read over the listing sheet, then checked a few others. It appeared that the same lawn service was retained for all of the upscale properties that were vacant. A sly grin crossed his face as he checked the names of the male Realtors at Realty World. He randomly picked one, reached for his burner phone, and made the call. He knew he’d get a recorded message on a Saturday night—it was just what he wanted anyway. He left a message saying Realty World needed a groundskeeper at the property on Oriole Lane tomorrow to freshen things up. A potential buyer was coming to view the estate first thing Monday.
Dime pulled the tab on another beer. He knew he would need several beers to sleep soundly that night. The anticipation he felt in hopes of the groundskeeper finding Melissa was more than exciting. He took the stairs to the first floor, shut off the basement light, and went into the living room. He turned on the TV. His favorite crime thriller was just beginning.
Chapter 34
I saw my family off and spoke to the manager while I waited for Jack. I knew we wouldn’t find any evidence left behind. Our killer was smarter than that. Plus, this bar and restaurant was crowded. I was certain the bar countertop had been wiped down too since the killer had left.
“We need the restaurant closed, sir. I know this is an inconvenience, especially on a busy Saturday night, but there’s no alternative.”
The manager wrung his hands and groaned. “I understand, but I don’t even know how to go about doing that. People are waiting for their meals and—”
“Sir,” I interrupted, “whatever is ready to be served can go in doggy bags. Whatever hasn’t been started isn’t an issue. Give the customers rain checks, I don’t care, just get them out—now. I have a forensic team on their way, and any chance of finding evidence could be destroyed the longer people are here.”
Jack, Kyle, and Dan arrived and entered through the front door. By now the place was nearly deserted. The manager, bartender, and the waitress remained in the building with me.
“Jade, are you okay?” Jack asked when he saw us sitting at a table in the main dining room.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Jack, this is Leanne Frank, the waitress that spoke with our guy, the bartenders, Fred Stevenson and Mike Williams, and the nightshift manager of the restaurant, Brian McKinney.”
They shook hands.
“These two fellas, Kyle and Dan, are our forensic team. Leanne, Fred, and Mike, I’m going to need you to show these two everything you remember. Show them exactly where our guy stood, if he sat, what he touched, if he ordered a drink or food for himself, if he held a plate, a glass, a utensil, pulled the barstool out, and so on. I’m sure you get the idea.”
Leanne, Mike, and Fred nodded and began with Dan and Kyle at the bar.
I pulled Kyle aside, leaned in, and whispered to him. In public, I didn’t want to use the name “Dime” too often, fearing the media would sensationalize the story and start using “Dime” as the killer’s moniker.
“The wine bottle is sitting in the banquet room. As far as I know, it was only handled by Dime, the waitress, and me.”
“Got it, Jade.”
“So, what do you know so far?” Jack asked.
“The only thing the waitress and bartenders remember was that he wore a baseball cap and dark green–lensed glasses. They couldn’t tell his hair or eye color, and with such a crowd at the bar, they couldn’t tell how tall he was. Apparently, he was shoulder to shoulder with everyone else standing around. They thought he wore a black hoodie, and they didn’t see his pants.”
“Yeah, a dark hoodie over his head would look out of place in a nice restaurant like this. He’d stand out more by wearing it up—smart to wear a baseball cap instead.” Jack looked around and pointed at the cameras.
I read his mind. “They’re fake.”
“Damn it. Okay, let’s take a look at that bottle.”
We got up, and I led the way to the banquet room. We walked up to the table and took a seat.
The bottle remained where I had left it, still swaddled in the tea towel. The towel was wet, and the tablecloth beneath the bottle was damp.
The room had been bustling with families enjoying their Saturday night less than an hour ago. Now the empty space felt ominous.
Jack leaned in and read the label out loud. “Sweet Melissa—Sweet Sparkling Red Wine.” He whistled, ran his fingers through his hair, then squeezed his head between his hands. “If that isn’t a clue, I don’t know what is.”
I agreed. “We need the manager to pull up a list of how often this wine is purchased from the wholesaler, how often customers request it by the glass or by the bottle. Is it on their drink menu? I’ve never even heard of it. How would Dime know they sell it here?” I motioned for Brian to come over. I wrote all my questions in my notepad and tore out that page. “Brian.”
“Yes, Sergeant?”
“I need you to take care of this immediately.” I handed him the piece of paper and continued my conversation with Jack.
“My question is how did Dime know you’d be here tonight?”
“I don’t know, Jack, but I do know one thing, we just might have a serial killer on our hands.”
Jack squeezed my shoulder. “We’ll get him, Jade. You can count on that. Right now, we need to focus on Melissa. You said she hasn’t been heard from since Tuesday?”
“That’s right. According to Adriana, one of the Realtors, she received a text from Melissa Tuesday night saying she had a family emergency. Nobody from the office has heard from her since. I tried calling Melissa this morning, but her mailbox was full. Adriana said her appointment calendar and her briefcase were gone.”
“What about her family? Is she married, does she have anyone in North Bend or Milwaukee?”
“Apparently not. It sounds like her family lives somewhere else. I think Adriana said Iowa. That means she could have easily driven there.”
“But if it was an emergency, she probably would have flown. We’ll check the airlines. This clue with the bottle might just be a hoax to ruin your birthday. I don’t know, Jade, but we have to cover all angles. What about gloves? Dime had to pay for the wine even if he didn’t actually touch the bottle, right?”
“That’s true—hold on.” I called out to Fred and Mike, the bartenders, to come over. “Who actually spoke to our guy?”
Fred answered, “I did.”
“How did he pay for the bottle?”
“Um… it was prepaid over the phone with a credit card.”
A surprised look furrowed Jack’s brows. “A credit card? We need to see the receipt on that right away.”
“Sure, I’ll go find it.”
“There’s no way he’d be that careless. It must be a stolen card,” I said.
Fred returned a few minutes later with a credit card receipt. “Here it is. The bottle was ordered at five thirty today. We billed it to a Melissa Mately’s credit card.”
I pressed my palms into my eyes and shook my head. “Thanks, Fred. We’ll need a copy of that receipt.” I waited until he was out of earshot to continue. “Well, Dime is definitely making a name for himself. I doubt if we’re going to find Melissa alive, if we find her at all. If that’s the case, he’ll be officially on the record as a serial killer.”
Kyle and Dan joined us at the table and looked at the bottle.
“Should we process the bottle now, Jade?”
“Sure, go ahead. It sounds like he didn’t touch it, but it’s protocol. I don’t know what to do about this restaurant. With the volume of patrons here tonight, is it even feasible to waste time trying to lift fingerprints that may belong to hundreds of people?”
I looked from face to face—their expressions were all the same. It didn’t matter if Dime was in the woods or in a bustling restaurant—he never left a trace of evidence.
“Has anyone called the lieutenant?” I asked.
Jack answered, “Yeah, I did on my way in. He’s exp
ecting the four of us in his office first thing in the morning for a briefing.”
Chapter 35
A crew of three groundskeepers arrived at the estate on Oriole Lane at nine a.m. One man sat atop the oversized riding mower and addressed the large areas of lawn that needed cutting. Another pushed a self-propelled mower. His job was to trim the lawn in all of the tight spots, around trees and flower beds that the large mower couldn’t get close to. The last man operated the leaf blower and cleaned off the walkways, porch, deck, and the driveway area nearest the garage.
A strange scent seemed to linger in the air near the barn, and Joseph, the man pushing the hand-operated mower, noticed it. The riding mower that Andy sat on was moving at too fast a clip to catch the scent. Harry, the man blowing the leaves and debris from the hard surfaces, had his own force of moving air, making the odor unnoticeable.
With the front porch and sidewalk done, Harry moved on to the garage area. He adjusted the slipping shoulder straps, wiped his brow, and began blowing debris. The row of windows on the garage doors fell right at eye level.
The zinging sound of a stone hitting the garage door caused Harry to turn. He hoped it hadn’t left a mark. He turned off the blower, set it down, and walked over. The sun pouring through the row of windows caused something to catch his eye. Harry peered in, cupping his hands against the glass to block the sun at his back. A gold Infinity sedan was parked inside. He rubbed his chin in thought. The place was supposed to be vacant, and he was under the assumption the owners had moved to another state. What the heck is a car like that doing here? He flagged down Joseph, the man using the push mower.
“Hey, man, come and take a look. There’s a high-end car in the garage.”
They both peered through the garage windows. Harry again, just to confirm what he’d really seen a few minutes ago.
“That kind of car shouldn’t be parked in there. Something isn’t right, plus there’s a really foul smell coming from the barn area. Do you think somebody abandoned an animal in there and it died?”
“Hang on.” Harry went back to the porch area and looked at the front door. The lockbox was on the handle. He gave it a tug—it was locked. “Something about this smells fishy to me.”
