“I’m at Logan’s game. Can you hear me?”
“Barely. I wanted to give you a heads-up. The Freep reporter has been digging around, so I want you to get this first.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Ray.”
“The killer left behind something with each of the victims.”
“I know about the picture.”
“There’s something else. With April Young, the first vic, the killer left a Monopoly game piece in the palm of her hand. It was a red plastic house.”
“What does that mean?” Julia asked.
“Heather Burns was a Realtor.”
“He was leaving a clue about the next victim.”
“The killer likes to play games. Heather Burns had something in her hand, too. It was a charm of some kind of blackbird. We dusted it for prints, but nothing came back. This guy must’ve been gloved. He knew what he was doing. There was also no DNA to work with underneath either of the women’s fingernails, so it looks like neither of them tried to fight off their attacker.”
“Maybe they were too scared to fight. Or he killed them before they could. Thanks for this. I’m going to call the copy desk and have them update the story I wrote that’s already up online so we won’t get beat. Are you okay with that?”
“I ran it by the chief. She knows the Freep was likely going to get it from a source they have in the coroner’s office, so she’s fine with it. Just don’t name us directly as a source.”
“That’s a deal. I should get going. The game is about to end. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow night, right?”
“My bag’s already packed. See you soon, beautiful.”
Julia quickly tapped the update on her phone and called the copy desk, letting them know she was about to send the updated story to them.
She barely hung up when the gym doors opened and a sea of parents and their players herded out.
“Damn,” Julia said, and worked her way against the tide and back inside, where Logan was sitting alone on the newly vacated stands.
“Sorry I missed the last few minutes of your game. I had to take a work call. You were fantastic,” Julia said.
“Thanks. You don’t have to cheer so loud the next time,” Logan said. “Being new and everything, I don’t want to stand out.”
“Are you kidding me? You couldn’t shut me up if you tried. Did you meet any of the other kids on your team?”
“Not really. No one really talked to me. All the kids know each other already.”
Julia sat down next to Logan and grabbed her little boy’s hand.
“I’m so proud of you. You played great today because you worked hard and practiced. And you tried something new. I know it wasn’t easy. I got you a s’more whoopie pie to celebrate. Let me just grab my briefcase. I left it in the stand, and we’ll get out of here.”
“Man, people here sure don’t know how to clean up. If kids in my school left all this garbage behind in the gym, they’d have to go to the principal’s office.”
Strewn across the bleachers were dozens of empty water bottles, half-eaten bags of chips, and other debris. Julia looked back at the ref, Jeremiah Landry, who helped the obnoxious blonde’s son. He was whistling the Gipsy Kings’ “Bamboléo” cheerfully as he swept the gym floor.
“The ref seems like a nice guy. Let’s help him out,” Julia said, and the two began to pick up as many empty water bottles as they could and dumped them in the recycling bin.
“Thanks, but you don’t need to do that,” Jeremiah said.
“We don’t mind. They make the referees sweep, too?” Julia asked.
“I get paid extra to clean up after the games. I don’t mind.”
“You should get paid extra when you get harassed by obnoxious parents, too,” Julia said. “You made good calls today. Don’t let those jerks get to you.”
“I never do.” Jeremiah offered up a slow, easy smile, reached out his hand, and introduced himself. “Your boy here has a heck of a good shot. I can tell you’ve been practicing, son. Way to hustle out there.”
Jeremiah slid down so he was at eye level with Logan. “My only piece of advice, bend your knees when you’re playing defense. That’ll help you move faster. If I’m already in defensive stance, with my knees bent, and I see the ball being passed to the guy I’m guarding, I only have to make one move to steal it instead of two. Does that make sense?”
“What do you say, Logan?” Julia asked.
“Yes, thank you, sir,” Logan said.
“We appreciate the tip. I guess the rude parents you deal with are an unfortunate perk of the job,” Julia said.
“I love being a ref, and the kids for the most part are great, so I just let the other stuff roll off my back.”
“That’s good, but I’m betting you have some war stories,” Julia said.
“More than a few. I had an irate dad one time who, I’m pretty sure, was going to punch me in the face for a couple of fouls I called on his kid. The boy was totally out of line and tripped another kid he was guarding. I saw the dad and his boy at a restaurant an hour later, and neither of them recognized me. So I guess when I’m in the gym, I’m the bad guy, but when I’m out in public, I’m invisible. It works for me.”
“I’m Julia, by the way, and this is my son Logan. You were great tonight with that boy who got hurt. Seriously, stepping in like you did when his mom was trying to force him to play was admirable.”
“Some of the parents get way too wired during games. They forget about the welfare of their children, and all they can think about is winning.”
“You’re really good with kids. I’m guessing you’re a parent,” Julia said.
“Actually, I’m not,” Landry said. “My wife and I wanted a big family, but she couldn’t have children, so we settled for dogs. Mainly rescues. It’s not anywhere near the same as kids, but at least we don’t have to pay for college.”
“Good point,” Julia said.
“Are you guys ready to leave? I’d be happy to walk you out. The gym is always packed during the games, but the parking lot clears out pretty quickly when they’re over. The church across the street, it does a lot of good. My wife and I are members. But they run a men’s shelter, and there can be some, how should I say it without sounding judgmental . . . ‘unsavory types’ hanging around sometimes after-hours. The parks-and-rec department doesn’t want it getting around, but there were a few car break-ins in the parking lot last week.”
“I can protect my mom,” Logan said.
“Of course you can. I can see that you’re a brave young man.”
“Thanks for the offer, but we’ll be fine,” Julia said.
“My mom, she’s tough, and her boyfriend is a cop,” Logan said with a streak of unfiltered pride in his voice.
“Police are the good guys, true heroes among us. Have a good night then. Once I lock up, my wife and I are off to catch a show at Cinema Detroit.”
“What movie are you going to watch?” Logan asked.
“East of Eden.”
“A James Dean classic,” Julia said. “Cinema Detroit is a great spot.”
“Believe it or not, I proposed to my wife there during a showing of Franco Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet. My wife and I, we’re total movie buffs.”
“It was nice to meet you,” Julia said. She put her arm around Logan’s shoulder and the two of them walked out of the empty gym to the parking lot.
“Hop in, bud. S’more whoopie pie or bust,” Julia said.
Julia’s ringtone sounded in her bag just as Logan climbed into the backseat.
“If it’s Uncle Ray, ask him if he can come to my next game. I want him to see me play,” Logan said, and shut the car door.
Julia fished out her phone and decided to roll the dice and answer, even though the caller ID came up as unknown.
“Julia Gooden,” she answered.
“At last.”
“Who is this?”
“I’d tell you it’s the Blue Dress Killer, but that title di
sgusts me. You were there today, right? I figure with all the details you had, you were inside the church. I just read your story. It was masterful. I already know that you’re clever, so I’m guessing you’re not the one who came up with that ridiculous name for me. Other serial killers, and thank you for calling me that, have much better titles. The Grim Sleeper, Son of Sam, the Green River Killer, the Boston Strangler, BTK, now those names are memorable.”
Julia dug into her briefcase for her reporter’s notebook, pencil, and cassette recorder. She put her phone on speaker, hit the play button on the recorder, and then instinctively started scribbling down the caller’s comments as quickly as she could.
The man’s voice sounded unfamiliar, emotionless, and almost robotic in tone.
“How do I know you’re the killer?” Julia asked, feeling the familiar surge of energy she got on her beat when a story was clicking in place, mixed in with revulsion that she was likely talking to the person who had killed Heather Burns and April Young. She took a quick glance at Logan inside the car and raised a finger, letting him know she’d be a minute. “For all I know, you’re just a jerk who’s trying to screw with me or a crazy wanting to take credit for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“Good move. You’re trying to rattle me, make me think you don’t believe me so I’ll slip up and give you some hints about who I am. Not going to happen. You want proof? Okay. Both the women I killed, I left behind drawings that I placed on their stomachs. Staging is so important. Your story didn’t include the details about what I drew. I’m guessing the police asked you to leave that out, to see if the real killer could fill in the details if I came forward.”
“What’s the picture you drew?” Julia asked.
“Not a picture, but a devotion. It’s a heart, turquoise and red. I drew it pretty. It’s a religious symbol.”
“To Erzulie. You’ve got some ties to voodoo. But those moon drawings, those were different. Those were Wiccan.”
Julia heard the person on the other end of the phone gasp with pleasure. “You never cease to impress me. That’s correct. I didn’t think anyone would put that together. Erzulie, the goddess of sexuality, love, and desire. Our own Virgin Mary. The other symbol you mentioned, it’s the Lunar Triple Goddess, a staple of pagan witchcraft, the original Holy Trinity from the three stages of womankind. You get an A on your first test, but now I need something from you. Give me a name.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A name. Something better than the Blue Dress Killer. It’s not good enough. Give me a better name or I’m going to kill again. Tomorrow morning, bright and early.”
“I’m not playing your game.”
“Your choice. I’ve already got the woman picked out. I’ve been watching her for weeks. April Young, Heather Burns, I already know the names of victims three, four, and five. I’m even willing to give you a tiny bit of information about my next girl. I’m only doing this because it’s you, Julia, and I’m willing to buy you some time. But you need to give me a better name first, or my offer comes off the table. I’ve got my uniform and knife prepped and ready. It’s important to dress the part.”
“Hold on . . . ,” Julia answered as her mind spun to come up with something. “Magic Man.”
Julia felt disgusted with herself as soon as she said it, having allowed herself to get sucked into the caller’s manipulation.
“Ahhhh, the Magic Man Killer. I like that. A lot. Good girl. I’m really enjoying how we’re doing this together. It’s special, don’t you think?”
“No, I think you’re disgusting. How do you know me? From my stories?” Julia asked. “How did you get my number?”
“So many questions. The game is going to change now, since you figured out the first puzzle with the drawings. Let’s see if you can figure out something else before it’s too late. Look for the dark magic in Detroit. I wish you could see me right now. I’ve got a smile as big as the Cheshire cat’s. If you find the place, there’ll be something waiting there for you.”
“You like to play games. What does the blackbird charm mean?”
“Very good. You’re smarter than the cops. I’m betting you’ll figure it out before they do. It’s all connected. The charm, the black magic. I’m not giving you anything more. But I do need to ask you something.”
“What?” Julia answered in disgust.
“Have I gone mad?” he said, his voice coming to life and suddenly switching from monotone to theatrics as he strung out the last word.
“‘Gone’? I think you’ve been that way for a long time. Did you dress up those women to look like me?”
“I’m doing all this for you. We’re exactly alike.”
“I’m nothing like you.”
“No? I know who you are. You’ll see. How do you really feel about your dead brother? You compose yourself very well, considering the tragedy. Or maybe you’re just a hollow shell. Are you capable of love, Julia Gooden? Did you love your brother, who was murdered?”
“Stop trying to play me,” Julia said. “I’m going to find you, asshole.”
“Such bad language for a lady. I have one small request. Things are going to get a lot worse, unless you agree.”
She gripped the phone in silence, refusing to let him goad her this time.
“Write everything I do. Every single little detail.”
CHAPTER 9
The early-morning sun blinded Julia when she looked into her rearview mirror at Navarro’s Chevy Tahoe pulling up behind her. Navarro and his partner, Russell, had followed Julia from her house in Rochester Hills to a business on Bagley Street in downtown Detroit.
Julia had briefed the police the night before after her call with the newly minted Magic Man Killer, and Navarro had insisted on staying at her house, keeping a watchful eye over her and her family while he stood guard on the couch.
Her destination was directly across the street from Hello Records, an indie emporium where patrons could buy, sell, and trade their music. The funky vinyl and shellac record store had a bright yellow sign out front that promised: SOUL, JAZZ, BLUES, FUNK, GOSPEL.
“We’re heading to Highland Park,” Navarro said, and leaned into Julia’s open car window. “There’s a guy there who might look good for this. His name is Jeb Wilson. He just got out of Carson City Correctional on a rape conviction. His probation officer told me he was involved in Satanism and cut up a girl as some kind of sacrifice when he attacked her. Poor kid is lucky she got out alive.”
“Jeb Wilson. His name doesn’t ring any bells,” Julia said.
“Even if he’s not our man, he may have information that can help us.”
“It’s not even nine and my day is already sucking,” Russell said. He stood on the sidewalk and cupped his hands near his mouth to warm them. “If nothing comes out of grilling freaky rape boy, we get to hang out with a couple of Wiccan meet-up groups later. I kid you not. At noon, we’ve got a sit-down with a pagan coffee klatch that meets once a week at the Starbucks on St. Antoine to talk about God knows what, probably some hocus-pocus shit. I blame Starbucks for this. A black coffee at Dunkin’ Donuts is all anyone needs. Skinny, half-caf latte, my ass. You sit around and drink that shit, it makes you crazy.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being different, as long as you’re not hurting anybody,” Julia said.
“Whatever,” Russell said. “Get a load of this. Our cybercrimes guy found a real winner who calls himself Rowan. Old Rowan’s website says he’s a voodoo priest right here in our very own Detroit. For a C-note, Rowan claims he can reverse a voodoo curse or concoct some kind of love spell that can make the chick you’ve got the hots for lose her panties with just one look. Our cybercrimes guy found out Rowan’s real name is Myron Bruce, and he’s based out of Seattle. The prick has sites set up in every major city. Voodoo priest, my ass.”
“Russell, could you give us a minute?” Navarro asked his partner.
“Sure. Hey, Gooden?” Russell asked. “Speaking of asses, watch
yours today.”
“Thanks. I’ll be fine.”
Russell started whistling Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition” and headed back to Navarro’s vehicle.
“I don’t like you being out here alone like this. What time do you pick Prejean up?” Navarro asked.
“Ten. I’m going to the airport right after I finish talking to Tyce.”
“You don’t think you’re wasting your time with him?” Navarro asked.
“No, if anyone can help me, he can.”
“Okay then. But make me a promise. Be careful. I’m serious, Julia. Don’t be overconfident on this. The killer is playing some kind of game, and you’re at the center of it. You know how to take care of yourself, but I don’t like this. We’ve got your cell and house phone tapped in case the killer calls you again.”
“I’ll be all right, Ray. I promise.”
Navarro sighed and ran his fingers in frustration through his thick shock of dark hair.
“You need to do something for me. I’m not going to let you and your boys hang solo with all this going down. I checked with my apartment manager. He has a vacant unit next to mine. They use it as an executive rental and it’s fully furnished. He agreed to let you move in short-term. There’s plenty of room for all of you, including Helen. And I’ll be right there. I’m not going to discount that the killer knows where you live. We can get you into the place tomorrow. I know you’re going to say no, but please think about it.”
“Okay. We’ll do it. ”
“Just like that? I don’t have to fight you on this?”
“Not this time. The Magic Man Killer has got a direct line to me. I don’t know how close it is, but I need to make sure he doesn’t get anywhere near my family.”
Navarro, the once-little boy whose nana took him to Mass every Sunday growing up, did the sign of the cross over his chest.
“I didn’t realize I was that much trouble that you’re turning to God for favors on my behalf,” Julia said.
“Just pulling out all the stops to make sure you and your family are okay. But promise me you’ll be careful and call me as soon as you leave here.”
You Fit the Pattern Page 9
