Two Graves (A Kesle City Homicide Novel)

by Graystone, D. A.

  “Make sure they tent the stairwell right away before they put on any lights,” Mann told Greer. “I don’t want this out there for everybody with a camera phone. I want a cop on every window that over looks this alley. If I see a picture of the vic surface on the web, I’ll have somebody’s ass.”

  “Yes, sir,” Greer said.

  “You got anything more on the shooting vic?”

  “He’s an accountant with Curtis, Devine and Hayes.”

  “Oh this is too good,” Mann said, his voice betraying his excitement. “That’s one of Angelino’s firms. I want to lock this one down. We are going to be taking point on this one if I can possibly swing it. I want a unit at this Thorman’s house. Get on to Davis and see if we can work out jurisdiction. And…”

  “Uh, sorry Lou,” Greer said, pointing to the edge of the perimeter. Two plain clothes detectives, both in three piece suits, were flashing their badges at the uniform in charge of the line. “Looks like SOCU to me.”

  “Damn it,” Mann said, recognizing the two detectives. “How did they get here so fast? OK, stay with the plan. I’ll fight over this one and see if we can keep it.”

  Chapter 48

  “Where is my freaking money?”

  “That wasn’t my problem,” Hill reminded Angelino. “He saw those two idiots you had watching him and decided to make a run for it. Your words were, ‘I want him brought to me, if possible. If not, take him.’ I had no choice.”

  “So what was he doing in that alley with you?”

  Hill had been expecting this. It was the one part of his otherwise tight story that had some wiggle in it. Hill had two ways to play it. The best defense…

  “I was trying to save your money.”

  “Thought you said that wasn’t your problem?”

  “Not my problem but I’m not a bloody idiot. I’m the last resort guy, right?”

  Hill waited, staring at Angelino until the big man was finally forced to nod.

  “When have you ever told me to wait? I don’t wait. I’m in, I’m out. The longer I’m in this city, the longer I’m exposed. I don’t like being out there, especially in this city. But you needed me here because this guy isn’t your usual mug. This guy was smart, right? He did you right up the ass and you had to prove you were smarter, right?”

  Again, Hill waited.

  “I underestimated him once,” Angelino admitted. “I wasn’t going to do it again.”

  “Good choice. He got a silenced .45 while your boys were all over him.”

  “They paid for their mistake. But you still haven’t answered my question,” Angelino said, his impatience showing. “What were you doing in that alley?”

  “Ya, I did. I was trying to save your money.”

  “How?”

  “By not having to take the guy out. Like I said,” Hill said, pointing at himself, “not a bloody idiot. We’re talking a lot of money, right? Normally, you plug the leak, you plug the guy and everybody else is scared shitless to screw you but not this time. You had to show you were smarter than him. You got a big ego.”

  Angelino’s eyes tightened.

  “Hey, not saying it isn’t deserved but you blew it. You know it, that’s really what you are pissed with, not me. I went above and beyond.”

  “How you figure?”

  “I saw him take your guys out.”

  “You didn’t stop him?”

  “Again, not my problem. They screwed things up for me so screw them.”

  “You are a heartless bastard, you know that?”

  “But I’m still alive, right? Guy sends his daughter out of town. Guy gets a silenced gun and takes out your guys. I’m thinking your plan isn’t working. You should have just sweated the guy. Let some of your guys do his wife in front of him. He would have folded and you would have your money. That was plan B for me but I had to bring him in first.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “Because he drew down on me. I tried to keep him in public so we could talk but he walked into that alley. That little accountant was fast, you know? Desperate people will take chances and he thought he could take me. I guess he figured he had to take his shot, right?”

  “So I should be thanking you?”

  “The rest of the payment is more than sufficient. I am out of this town and I don’t think I’ll be coming back for a while.”

  “You might want to rethink your travel plans.”

  “Don’t threaten me,” Hill said, steel going into his voice. “I fulfilled your contract as per your specifications. I got no more responsibility here.”

  “What about the witness?”

  “Thorman’s wife wouldn’t know me if I slapped her in the face.”

  “Not that witness. The other one.”

  Hill looked at Angelino, sizing him up, wondering what his game was.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  By the time Angelino had finished explaining, Hill knew he was stuck in the city for a while longer.

  Chapter 49

  Mann rolled his shoulders, trying to take the kinks out of his tired muscles. Taking another drink of Pepsi, he realized that he had never made it down to the gym with Blaak. He patted his stomach. Even without the workouts with Blaak, he was losing his gut. Not eating will do that. He leaned back in his chair and stared around his office.

  Hart’s connections, at least his boss’s connections, had pressured the Mayor into expanding the task force. The Division muster room couldn’t handle it anymore. The task force was relocated to an empty warehouse a few blocks from Southfield Division headquarters. Mann had brought his chair with him. Chairs were a cherished commodity in the force. When you found a chair you liked, you brought it with you if you could. More than stripes, bars, and clusters, chairs were the true gauge of rank in the force.

  The small office he had been assigned used to belong to the accountant of the firm that owned the warehouse. Mann had dealt with the accountant when they had arrived at the empty building. The number cruncher had told Mann why he had put up with the cramped office for so many years when he rated a larger one. The peculiar shape of the alley next to the warehouse created a draft that went right in the window of this office and no other. Proximity to the lake brought in a fresh smelling breeze. The accountant had guarded that secret for years and was the only one that never sweltered in the summer.

  Outside, in the open area of the warehouse, the telephones rang constantly. The task force had been assigned its own numbers that had been published in the papers and on TV. Tips now came directly into the task force. However, a complicated method of sorting still followed every tip. Mann knew that the tips would soon overwhelm the task force.

  Stacks of paper littered the desk of each detective. Was the killer in those piles of paper somewhere? Or, was he just living out a normal life, taking only a night out every once in a while to strangle and hack a citizen to pieces, then going back to the dog and the family barbecue. Christ!

  Mann got up and wandered into the open area. Last night had gone on forever. When things had finally settled down, he had gone home to sleep. He had tossed and turned for two hours. The vision of the girl kept intruding on his thoughts. The brutality and plain sickness was more than he had ever seen in his life.

  The doctors said that this one proved that the killer was sliding farther into his sickness. There appeared to be less planning and control of the kill site and still no rape.

  Mann tried to ignore the visions of the girl and looked instead at the large chart of times tracing the girl’s movements immediately before her death.

  With an effort, he shifted his mind, forcing himself to refer to her by her name. Normally, he made an effort to identify with the victim. This time was different. He had trouble reconciling that mass of human tissue as a living person or at least he didn’t want to. Especially with what he had been doing while she was being killed.

  But Andrea Seymour was her name and she was an actress. She had been celebrating h
er first big break. Then, she left her friends and was brutally, disgustingly, viscously murdered. The chart continued in sickening detail, estimating times for the various acts of the killer. Almost as disturbing was the chart beside showing the last moments of Thorman’s life.

  The times overlapped. Both killers must have been in the alley at the same time. And the cops had run right past him.

  At least they still had a fighting chance at keeping Thorman’s murder. Mann was working hard at that. If he was right, there could be some really interesting records in Thorman’s possession that could be collected as part of the murder investigation quite legally and then used against Angelino.

  If not, given the timing of the two killings, nailing the Slasher might get the shooter. And that would definitely lead to Angelino.

  Chapter 50

  SOUTHSIDE SLASHER KILLS FOURTH VICTIM

  Dale Lewery reporting

  Last night in a dark alley only steps away from a crowded downtown street teeming with unsuspecting theatre goers, the Southside Slasher brutally murdered his fourth victim in less than four weeks. In a dark stairwell, strewn with garbage and human waste, the body of 23 year old Andrea Seymour was found and quickly identified as victim number four of the Southside Slasher.

  The actress, poised for the premier role of her short career, was killed in what Deputy Inspector Livermore described as “the most brutally sadistic murder” he has ever investigated.

  Andrea Seymour had just left a celebration at a local restaurant in honor of her recently announced starring role in the upcoming play Ice And The Maiden Sister. Having spent the past 3 years in Kesle, struggling to land that breakthrough role, Andrea’s hopes had finally been realized. At a time friends described as the pinnacle of her life, she was dragged down an alley and brutally murdered by a vicious, psychotic killer.

  With everything to live for, her life was taken by a deranged killer who has the twisted mentality to call himself the “victim”.

  In a further twist in this increasingly bizarre murder investigation, sources in the police department confirmed to this reporter that officers literally ran past the killer in the middle of his horrendous crime.

  Just feet from the scene of Andrea’s slaying, Nikolas Thorman, an accountant, was gunned down in what police are calling a “gangland murder”. (See Accountant, page A2). During the pursuit of the underworld hit man, police ran directly past the Southside Slasher who undoubtedly had a front row seat to the shooting. In fact, police fear that the ensuing distraction provided by the second killing allowed the Southside Slasher to walk away from the grisly scene.

  As the city braces for more violence, the Mayor is promising to devote even more resources to the…

  Preston folded the newspaper carefully. His rage was barely controlled and the slow deliberate movements helped to calm him. He looked across the street at the sidewalk café outside the Starbucks and his rage boiled up again. Closing his eyes, he breathed and felt the calm descend over him. When he thought he could look again, he slowly allowed his eyes to open.

  It would be so easy. Just get in his car, a nice leisurely cruise down the street. At the last second, gun the engine and plow through the flimsy tables. Before the idiot could even begin to think, he would be under the wheels. Nothing would be simpler. But where would the satisfaction be in such an easy kill?

  Once you have experienced the thrill of killing with your hands, nothing as impersonal as a car could ever really satisfy. Not after feeling the slick, warm blood flow over your hands and flutter of the heart as it slows and finally stops. The eyes, consumed with fear. The pleading, the begging, the promises…

  He suddenly realized he was touching himself and he looked around but as usual he was invisible. People just didn’t care about him. Nobody ever noticed him.

  Lewery was still sitting at his regular table at Starbucks. Preston glanced at his watch and knew he had to get back to work soon. He took up his pad of paper and began drafting the letter he would type later.

  As I sit watching you sip your double latte, I wonder at your abilities as an investigative reporter…

  Chapter 51

  Mann looked over at Greer’s desk. The detective had been at it almost non-stop since he left the crime scene last night. First man on the scene, Greer had caught most of the paperwork. Between running the scene and filling out forms, Greer looked exhausted; Mann wandered over to his desk.

  “Go home. You’ve been on it long enough.”

  Greer shrugged. “I’ve finished putting in most of the latest data. I was just taking a little break to clear the cobwebs.”

  “Clear them at home, that’s a direct order. Keep going like you are and you’ll be useless to us.”

  Greer nodded and stood. He pulled his coat on. “Yes, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.”

  Mann nodded, distracted by an overweight, balding man in an Inspector’s uniform going into the Livermore’s office. Mann wandered over to Keough’s office and knocked on the doorframe. Keough, busy on the phone, waved Mann to a seat. He slammed the phone down seconds later.

  “I’m still trying to get those god-forsaken cots.”

  Several of the detectives had taken to sleeping in one corner of the warehouse rather than waste time with the commute home. Some had not seen their families for over a week. Marriages were going to break because of this case. Keough thought the men should at least be comfortable. Unfortunately, the unseen minions who looked after supply didn’t agree.

  “What’s Flem doing here?”

  “The Mayor has decided that the case now has official ties with SOCU.”

  “Thorman?”

  “Thorman.”

  Mann swore. The SOCU was the Mayor’s pride and joy. Standing for Special Organized Crime Unit, the SOCU investigated mob activities in the city. Tying Thorman with Angelino had been no difficult matter, at least for their purposes. Doing the same thing in a court of law would be much more difficult.

  “You can’t run both investigations, Gregg. It was clearly a hit so it had to go to them. It doesn’t have anything to do with the Slasher and you have plenty on your plate with just that.”

  “I know but…” Mann said, even sounding like a whiny teenager to himself.

  “Not even in your sandbox so I couldn’t get it thrown to Davis. You’ll get your shot at Angelino.”

  Mann shrugged, still looking sullen.

  “What’s the latest from Buchanan?” Keough asked, trying to change the subject.

  “Nothing good,” Mann said. “You already saw the preliminary shots of the mutilation. Buchanan confirmed our suspicions.”

  “The Slasher was there?”

  “I’m afraid so. The signature was done but it was sloppy and obviously rushed. Buchanan said it looked like he had to do it, was compelled. However, he didn’t have much time.”

  “What’s your timeline?”

  “She was already dead before Thorman got into the alley. He must have been working on her – slashing her. He had already taken her larynx. He likely heard the voices and panicked. He finished the sign and then got out. Given the speed that everything happened, it’s likely he followed our guy right out of the crime scene. Mrs. Thorman was busy with her husband; the crowd hadn’t really formed yet.”

  Keough sat back in his chair. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. No amount of massaging was going to get rid of this headache.

  “So, to recap,” Keough said. “We have another dead woman – mutilated and covered in excrement and garbage. We have a dead Mob accountant, armed with an unregistered silenced Forty-five automatic – undoubtedly a hit. He also had forged passports and airline tickets in his pocket for him and his whole family. We have a uniformed cop running right by the killer that an entire task force is searching for. And that same cop and his partner in a patrol car, likely distracted everyone so they didn’t notice a psychopathic killer covered in blood strolling down the street. That about it?”

&
nbsp; “Not quite,” Mann admitted. “We have two dead men in a car parked down the street from Thorman’s house. Shot with a large caliber weapon.”

  “What about ballistics?”

  “Not yet, but I’m betting on a match with the gun in Thorman’s hand.”

  “Is that it?”

  Mann nodded. “That about covers it – except for the fact that our only witness to the hit is a psychopathic serial killer.”

  “And to add to the crucifixion we are going to get in the press, we now have Inspector WH Flem ready to camp out on our doorstep,” Livermore said from the doorway.

  Keough couldn’t help but smile. “They did catch Hiz Honor’s double chin, though.”

  There had been a Keystone Cop cartoon (featuring the Commissioner and the Mayor in the traditional paddy wagon) in one of the editorial pages.

  “Is Flem really here for good?” Mann asked.

  Flem was a lousy cop but he was perfect for the PR work. He loved to give interviews. He was on the news at least once a week and always wore his uniform. As far as Mann knew, the man didn’t even own a civilian suit.

  “Do we need that glory hound around here?”

  “He smells the media and is already preparing his sound bite,” Keough said.

  “Watch yourself,” Livermore warned. “That particular jerk off has the Mayor’s personal emergency cell phone number – for the phone His Honor keeps hidden up his ass. And I don’t even want to know what he has on the Commissioner. Something made James back off when the Mayor picked Flem. No secret that he’s being groomed to replace James, and you better believe James knows it. And that will happen pronto if we don’t solve this case very soon. Come on, it is time to meet the great Flem.”

  *

  Mann had disliked Flem the moment he met him. The man had risen by the political route rather than by any great police work. It was true enough that early in his career, he had done some good things with organized crime. From the beginning, the mob had been his focus. He had even made some key busts. Since then, he had been just sitting on the political fence turning SOCU from an investigative unit into a political juggernaut. Now, the task force had to put up with him. Mann was determined to put the Inspector through his paces and spared no details of the killings. He even brought in some of the better stills.