Family Honor

by Jamie Hill

  "Who can remember? A long time."

  Marshall smiled. "He wised up, found himself a good woman and a less taxing line of work. They adopted a of couple kids and had a couple more of their own."

  "Oh, Jack?" Mel perked up as she came in to the room. Her eyes were red-rimmed but the expression on her face warned all the men present that they better not mention it. "How is he doing? How's the new baby?"

  Marshall's grin widened. "Jack's on the top of the world. Scotty's doing great. Pudgy little chow hound. Two months younger than the girls and almost as big as them."

  Mel held out her hand and snapped her fingers. "Don't try to tell me you don't have pictures because I know you do."

  He pulled his cell phone from his breast pocket and started scrolling through it. "Are you kidding? My phone has a mega-sized memory card. We could stand here all day looking at pictures." He settled on one and handed Mel the phone.

  "Aw, look at them!" She held the phone so Nate could see the two little dark-haired babies. Both had wild, unruly hair, and he had to admit, pretty damned cute expressions on their faces. "Brady and his wife had twin daughters, what, four months ago?"

  "Four and a half," he corrected.

  Mel smiled at Nate, and he had to grin. Only a new parent would care about that extra half month. Saps, the whole lot of them. He bit his tongue and continued to smile pleasantly.

  Marshall advanced the frame to another photo. "This is Carina, and that's Daniela. We call them Cari and Dani."

  Oh my God. Nate bit his tongue again.

  "Too cute!" Mel passed the phone to Stone so he could get in on the gushing.

  "Thanks." Brady beamed. "But I know you didn't call me here to look at my daughters."

  Mel cocked a brow at him. "Who did call you here? When I asked the captain if I could bring you in he said you were on the way."

  "Willis and I spoke this morning. Didn't he tell you?"

  She looked at Nate. "No, he didn't. No problem, I planned to call you today anyway. We were wondering if you could give us any insight into these women. You know a lot of them. You know the Oldtown neighborhood."

  They sat and passed the latest photos around. "This one was a waitress at Daily Joe," Mel offered. "Everything else was the same as the others. Cheerleader uniform from the seventies era, cardinal mascot on the vest, red pom poms in the hands, bodies all posed just the same."

  "Throat slashed from ear to ear," Marshall added.

  Nate studied the latest victim. I'm missing something. He tapped that particular photo on the table but didn't pass it on.

  "Any significance to the cardinal?" Marshall asked.

  "I got that." Nate pulled out his phone and found the information his analyst had sent. "Two Wichita schools in the seventies had cardinals as their mascots. St. John's and Bayside Academy. Bayside was a Lutheran school with no sports teams, so they wouldn't have had cheerleaders."

  "Which leaves us St. John's," Stone said. "I'm not familiar with it."

  "Because it doesn't exist anymore." Nate read from his phone. "The school closed in 1984 and the building was dozed to make way for a strip mall with lots of parking and a fancy seafood restaurant."

  "Gotta love seafood." Marshall stood and paced in front of the bulletin board, studying the photos and evidence. "So run the timeframe for me again."

  Mel read from her notes. "Rhonda Jensen, forty-four, found two weeks ago on a Sunday morning."

  Marshall turned to the map. "Where at?"

  Stone rose and pointed to the map tacks. "Red indicates location of the body. Blue is last known whereabouts."

  Marshall nodded.

  Mel continued, "Victim number two, Donna Leonard, forty-nine. Found one week ago on a Saturday morning. Number three was Linda Mains age fifty-two, body discovered last Friday morning."

  Nate piped up. "Sissy Warsaw was forty-eight and her body was discovered today, Monday." He glanced at Mel and they both looked at Marshall then Stone.

  All four murmured the same words at the same time. "He's escalating."

  "Damn it!" Nate slammed the photo in his hand down and pounded the table.

  Samantha Becker poked her head in the door. "Detective Marshall, there's a call for you out here on line three. It's your captain."

  "Thanks." Brady smiled at Mel as he passed her, pausing just long enough to tug on her ponytail. "Really do like the locks, kiddo. Brightens up your face."

  "I can use that." She smiled and exhaled a long sigh.

  Something in Nate's mind clicked. His gaze darted to the bulletin board from one photo to the next. At the end of the line, he snapped his fingers. "Son-of-a-bitch!"

  "What?" Mel and Stone both stared at him.

  He spotted Marshall returning and waited for him. "Everything okay?" He really hoped the other detective didn't have to leave.

  "Fine." Marshall waved a hand. "Captain just had a question for me and didn't have his cell so he could call mine." He rolled his eyes at Mel. "Forrest ranks right up there with Reeder sometimes."

  "Or down there, as the case may be," she muttered.

  "Okay, okay, listen to this." Nate couldn't wait any longer. "I've been trying to put my finger on something this whole time, and it suddenly just clicked. Something all these women have in common. Look at their hair."

  All eyes turned to the bulletin board. Mel spoke first. "One red-head, two brunettes and a badly bleached blonde."

  "Therein lies the connection. All four of them have artificially colored hair. Same with the two gals we talked to Friday. The Juicy Fruit chick and what was her name, Sheila? Both had bleached or colored hair."

  Mel looked at Marshall. "Skinny Sheila sends her regards, by the way. Says if you get tired of all the family togetherness to look her up. She'll give you a special rate."

  Marshall laughed. "Shelia's a good girl. Usually knows a bit more than she lets on, too."

  Frustration churned in Nate's gut. "Stay with me here, people! These are street folks. Homeless or living in shelters, with no idea where the next meal is coming from. Explain to me how they can afford to have their hair done?"

  Stone shrugged. "Who says they have it done? Maybe they do each other. A box of color in the store costs, what, five bucks?"

  "More like ten," Mel said, "but it would have scared me if you knew that."

  Nate pressed on. "The Juicy Fruit gal said she left Linda the other day when she went to have her hair done."

  "That's right." Mel nodded. "I don't know. It might be a connection."

  "It is a connection," Nate insisted. "Mel, we need to talk to Shelia and Juicy Fruit again. Find out where they have their hair done."

  Mel smiled. "Her name is Juicy, not Juicy Fruit."

  Nate scowled. "That's just wrong."

  She laughed. "We won't find them until one at the earliest. But yeah, we can go ask."

  Marshall studied the map. "There are a few low rent salons in the neighborhood. Some of those places might not charge a working girl too much."

  Nate raised his brows. "Or, one of them might accept a different type of payment from a working girl."

  "There is that," Marshall agreed. "Why don't I get a jump on this thing? Track down some of the salons and check out the personnel."

  "I'll get Becker to help you," Stone said.

  Marshall groaned. "Not Perky Barbie. Why don't you help me, Henry?"

  Stone smiled. "Because I need to go strike the fear of God into a couple of CSI investigators. Find out where the devil our report is."

  Nate grinned. "Go get 'em, Tiger. Send Barbie in on your way out. She's the perfect helper for Marshall here."

  "Thanks." Brady rolled his eyes, but Nate could tell he wasn't really unhappy. He seemed the type of person who could get along with anyone. That's why Nate wanted him working with Becker. It leaves Mel all to me.

  He watched her leaning over the table examining a photo, and had to fight an urge to move in from behind and drape his body over hers. He'd start kissing the nape
of her neck and work his way down.

  Later. Right now, they were close to making a breakthrough. So close he could almost taste it.

  * * * *

  Nate drove when they went back to Oldtown that afternoon. He parked in the same spot they had before, and he led the way as they walked to where they last spotted Sheila.

  "Slow down." Mel struggled to keep up with him.

  He tossed a glance over his shoulder but kept moving. "This is it, Mel. I know it is."

  "Don't get your hopes up."

  The remark stopped him in his tracks. "Hopes? These aren't 'hopes' Mel. This isn't some little kid wishing the ice cream truck would be on the corner when we get there. This is life and death stuff here."

  She touched his arm. "I know that. Believe me, after this morning, I do know that. Take it easy, sweetie. You get so worked up."

  He allowed the grin that turned up the corners of his mouth. "You ain't seen nothing yet. This is it, baby. This is what we do. Now come on. Keep up or get out of the way."

  She resumed walking before he did, and glanced over her shoulder. "I'll be telling you that later."

  Nate chuckled and hurried after her. They walked a couple of blocks before they ran into anyone, and then it was one of the younger girls they'd seen briefly on Friday. She tried to take off before they reached her, but Nate called, "Wait. We're looking for Sheila or Juicy. Any idea where they are?"

  The woman stopped and looked back. "I seen Skinny Sheila about an hour ago. Left with some dude in a light blue Prius. Ain't seen Juicy yet today."

  Nate nodded, pleased that she'd noticed they type of car Sheila'd gotten into. Their warnings on Friday might have had more impact than he realized. "Thanks. Be careful out here."

  She waved over her shoulder and scurried away.

  He turned to look at Mel. "She's been gone for an hour. How long do we wait?"

  "Let's walk some more. We might find Juicy, or Sheila might get back. An hour's a long time for most of the folks around here, unless she found herself a big spender."

  Nate raised his brows. "In a blue Prius? I doubt it."

  They walked for another block and when they turned the corner, Sheila was standing in her usual spot.

  "Hey!" Mel called to her.

  "Goldielocks!Howzit?"

  Mel shook her head. "Been better, Shelia. We lost another one last night. This one was a waitress at Daily Joe."

  The woman's eyes widened. "Not jus' hoes? Well I'll be. A waitress you say."

  Nate stepped up. "Shelia, we need to ask you something. We noticed that all the victims had bleached or colored hair. You and Juicy do, too. Where do you have your hair done?"

  She frowned. "That don't matter to you all."

  "It could matter," Nate pressed her. "If you all used the same place."

  "Doubt that." She waved a hand.

  "Sheila," Mel said softly. "Please let us decide. Would you tell us who does your hair?"

  "He won't be likin' that."

  "Why not?" Nate snapped. "Most stylists would want word of mouth business."

  "Mister Tony not like most sty-uh-lists. He run things a little different-like."

  "Tony," Nate repeated. "Do you know his last name? Where does he work?"

  Sheila clammed up and glared at them.

  Mel touched her arm. "You're worried if you tell us then this Tony won't do your hair anymore. Did you have a special deal worked out with him? Exchange service for service, so to speak?"

  "We're not interested in that," Nate assured her. "We're simply looking for a connection between the victims. We want to get this guy, Sheila. None of you are safe until we do."

  Her hard exterior cracked and Shelia's shoulders sagged. "He be workin' for the beauty college two blocks over. 'Webb's School of Beauty' they call it."

  "Is he Webb?" Nate asked.

  "Oh, no!Webb the owna. He hab schools all ober da place. Tony be one of da teachers. He do hair after class be ober."

  "And he has a lot of working girls for clients?" Mel asked. "You exchange your services for his?"

  Shelia nodded. "Haircuts cost a quickie. Bleach and color go for liddle bit mo'."

  Mel stepped closer to her. "I know this is personal, but can you give me a few details? What might he expect in exchange for a dye job?"

  The woman screwed up her face. "He likes us to dress up in costumes."

  Nate's heart nearly beat through his chest. "Like cheerleader uniforms?"

  "Sumtimes. Udder times French Maid, waitress, bizness woman. Lotso diffr'nt ones."

  "That's it." He looked at Mel.

  "Maybe," she agreed, the expression on her face indicating she wasn't as sure.

  "Maybe hell.I'd bet on it. Let's go. Thank you Sheila." He pulled a twenty from his wallet and pressed it into her hand. "Get yourself something to eat. You're too skinny."

  She grinned. "Thankin' ya boss."

  He turned for his car and took off, Mel hot on his heels.

  "Keep up or get out of the way, huh?" She asked from behind him.

  He reached the SUV and turned to face her. "This is something, Mel. I can feel it in my gut. Call Marshall and see what he knows about Tony and the Webb School." He punched a number into his phone and asked the same questions of the FBI analyst.

  When he hung up, he saw Mel jotting notes. "Uh huh. Yeah. Sounds good." She ended her call. "Marshall and Becker already checked this place. Owned by a rich dude, name of Burton Webb. Not much info available about him, apparently isn't from this area. But they do have a teacher there by the name of Tony Masters. Mr. Tony has a long but fairly innocuous record of soliciting violations and some minor domestic battery charges."

  "Might seem fairly innocuous, but I suspect he's hiding something. What do you say we go find out?"

  "I'm with you." Mel smiled at him.

  Nate paused long enough to smile back. "I like the sound of that. Now grab your bulletproof vest. We're not taking any chances."

  Chapter Six

  Mel secured the black vest she'd tossed in the back of Nate's car around her and tightened the straps. It looked the same as the one he donned except hers said 'POLICE' in big white letters, and his said 'FBI'. She smiled as she climbed in the front seat.

  He got in and snapped his seatbelt into place. "What are you smiling about?"

  "I'm not smiling." She buckled her seatbelt and looked straight ahead. "This is just pretty cool and all. Gearing up with you, getting ready to go apprehend a suspect together."

  He allowed a small grin but shook his head. "You sound so excited, you'd think we were off to the movies, or somewhere on our second date."

  She laughed. "That sounds like fun. This is fun too, in its own way."

  Nate gave her one last glance. "Yeah, it is. Okay partner, which way we headed?"

  "Take a right at the stoplight."

  He drove following her directions, and when they spotted the Webb School he pulled to a stop in front. "Make sure we have some backup on standby. Tell them we'll call if we need them. We don't even know if Tony is working today."

  She made the quick call and hurried out to catch up with Nate who'd already reached the door.

  He paused and glanced over his shoulder at her. "You ready?"

  "Ready." She nodded.

  Nate entered the school with Mel right behind him. She looked around the reception area. One young, highly made-up blonde woman sat waiting and a receptionist filed her nails behind a desk. There was an eclectic mix of chairs, a couple of end tables stacked with beauty magazines, and several display racks filled with shampoo products and makeup. Typical salon stuff.

  The receptionist appeared young, early twenties if that, with a shockingly bright shade of red hair. Her heavily-made up eyes widened as they entered. "Help you?" she asked.

  "Tony Masters?" Nate replied without explanation.

  She got to her feet. "He's teaching in the back. I can show you."

  Nate held up a hand. "We'll find it. Just point."
>
  She motioned toward the clinic floor where several students in white uniforms worked on customers. "Past the shampoo bowls, on the left."

  Nate nodded and walked that way.

  Mel hurried to keep up. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to watch as the two cops passed through. One short, shaggy-haired man came out of a connected room but froze when he saw them and backed in again. Mel made a mental note. Remember to ask about him later.

  Just past the shampoo bowls Mel saw the classroom they were heading for. About a dozen uniformed students worked at tables with mannequin heads, and a lone man walked among them.

  He was short, maybe five-five, with thinning brown hair and a potbelly hanging over his belt.

  "There's our boy," Nate murmured.

  "Charming." She had a couple of other thoughts but kept them to herself. Her father had taught her not to judge a book by its cover, and she tried to remember that.

  Nate reached down and unfastened the strap on his holster which kept his gun secure. He caught her eye. "Just in case."

  Mel nodded and did the same.

  He stepped into the classroom. "Tony Masters?"

  The man looked up and when he spotted them, Mel could almost see the beads of sweat appear on his forehead. "Yes?" His voice squeaked. He cleared his throat.

  "We need a word with you please. Out here." Nate motioned to the doorway behind him.

  "Of course." Masters took his time getting to the front of the room but once he got there, bolted to the other side and out a door that Mel hadn't even noticed.

  "Call for backup!" Nate hollered and ran after Masters.

  Shit! Mel grabbed the radio mic on her collar and ran after them. "This is Curtis. We're on foot in pursuit of a suspect in the alley behind the Webb Beauty School on Collins Lane."

  "Ten-four," the dispatcher replied and put out a call to all units in the vicinity.

  Mel reached the end of the alley and rounded the corner. She stopped short. About ten feet in front of her, Masters lay face down on the sidewalk, one of Nate's knees pressed into his back.

  "I didn't do anything!" the man cried.

  "Sure, most innocent people bolt when the police confront them." Nate answered. He glanced up at Mel. "Back up en route?"