Ice Cold Killer

by Cindi Myers

  “He was with me that day,” Rainey said. “I keep him with me.”

  Dwight returned his notebook to his pocket. “That’s all for now,” he said. “I may have more questions later.”

  They left the kitchen. The living room was empty, so they let themselves out of the house. Ryder stopped on the way back to the Tahoe and looked around. Four cars were parked in front of the house, with another couple of trucks over by the horse barn. “A lot of vehicles,” he said.

  “The Walkers and Emily live here, along with Rainey and Doug, a ranch foreman and a couple of cowboys,” Dwight said. “Cody Rankin is staying here until the wedding, and there are probably people in and out all day—delivery people, the veterinarian and farrier, other service people.”

  “So it would be easy for Doug to have slipped away while his mother was busy,” Ryder said.

  “Maybe,” Dwight said. “But what’s his motive?”

  “He thought the women who were killed were pretty. If they turned down his advances, he might have taken it personally.”

  “He served time for assaulting a woman,” Dwight said. “Not a stranger, but a woman he knew. And the crime was more violent and spontaneous. These crimes feel more planned out to me.”

  Ryder nodded. “His mother is worried about something,” he said and resumed the walk to his vehicle. “Something to do with Doug.”

  “I got that feeling, too,” Dwight said. “He might not be guilty of murdering Fiona and the others, but she thinks he’s guilty of something.”

  “Or maybe she’s lying about Doug having been with her every day, all day,” Ryder said. “Her guilt over the lie is what I’m picking up on.”

  “She said she keeps him on the ranch with her, and pretty much doesn’t let him out of her sight,” Ryder said. “But it might be possible he could slip out without her knowing.”

  “Anything is possible,” Dwight said. “We could get a warrant to search his room. Maybe we’d get lucky and find a stack of Ice Cold calling cards.”

  “I don’t think we have enough evidence to get a warrant,” Ryder said. “Right now he has an alibi we can’t disprove for all the killings. We don’t have a motive, and the crime he was convicted of isn’t similar enough to these murders to justify a search—at least not from a judge’s point of view.”

  “I wonder if he has access to a computer and printer?” Dwight asked.

  “I’ll bet there’s one somewhere in that house.” Ryder glanced over at the big ranch house. “But without a warrant, we can’t legally find out what’s on it.”

  “We don’t have much of anything, really,” Dwight said. “That’s the problem with this case—lots of guys who might be a killer, but no proof that any of them are.”

  “Yeah.” Ryder’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “It feels like we’re in a race, hurrying to catch this guy before he strikes again.” A race that, right now at least, they were losing.

  Chapter Twelve

  By Monday Darcy was feeling much calmer. Fiona’s murder had been very upsetting, but Darcy had managed to bring her feelings under control and focus on her work. “You’ve got a new patient in room two,” Darcy’s receptionist, Stacy, said when Darcy emerged from the kennels that afternoon where she’d been checking on a corgi who had had a bad tooth removed that morning. Churchill the corgi, more familiarly known as Pudge, was sleeping peacefully in a kennel, cuddled up on his favorite blanket, supplied by his indulgent owner.

  “Oh?” Darcy accepted the brand-new patient chart, labeled Alvin. The information sheet inside listed a three-month-old Labrador puppy, Spike.

  “The pup is adorable,” Stacy said. “I should prepare you for the owner, though.”

  Darcy checked the sheet again. The puppy’s owner was listed as Jerry Alvin. “What about him?” Had he given Stacy trouble already?

  “He seems very nice,” Stacy said. “But he’s recovering from some kind of accident—his face is all bandaged and one arm is in a sling. I thought I should prepare you since it’s a little shocking when you first see him.”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks.” She closed the folder, then opened the door to exam room two.

  Jerry Alvin’s appearance was indeed a little shocking. Most of his head—with the exception of his eyes, ears and chin, was wrapped in bandages, and his left arm was enclosed in a black sling. He wore a black knit hat pulled down to his ears, tufts of blond hair sticking out from beneath it. “Hello, Dr. Marsh,” he said, rising to greet her, and offering his hand.

  “Hello, Mr. Alvin.” She turned to greet the dog. “And hello, Spike.”

  Spike, a dark brown ball of fur, seemed thrilled to see her, jumping up and wagging his whole body. Darcy rubbed behind his ears and addressed his owner once more. “What’s brought you in to see me today?”

  “I was in a car accident.” Alvin indicated the bandages. “Got pretty banged up. Spike was thrown from the car. He acts okay, but I just wanted to make sure he isn’t hurt.”

  “When did this accident happen?” Darcy asked.

  “Yesterday. I hit an icy spot on the highway and ran off the road, hit a tree. My head went through the windshield. I guess I’m lucky to be alive.”

  Darcy knelt and began examining Spike. The pup calmed and let her run her hands over him. “You say he’s acting fine,” she said. “No limping or crying out?”

  “No. He landed in a snowbank, so I guess that cushioned his fall.”

  Spike certainly looked healthy and unharmed. Darcy picked him up and put him on the exam table. “He has a little umbilical hernia,” she said. “That’s not uncommon with some puppies. Chances are he’ll outgrow it, but we should keep an eye on him.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks.”

  The hernia made her think of another puppy she had seen recently, with an almost identical umbilical hernia. Gage Walker’s lab puppy was a twin to this dog—same age and size. He even had the same cloverleaf-shaped white spot on his chest. A chill swept over Darcy as she continued to examine the dog. If this wasn’t the same puppy Gage had brought to her, then it was an identical twin. She glanced at Alvin. “Is something wrong?” he asked, leaning toward her.

  “Nothing.” She picked up the puppy and cradled it to her chest. “I’m going to check something in the back right quick. It won’t take a minute.” Before he could stop her, she exited the room and hurried to the back. She found her microchip reader in the drawer of the lab table and switched it on. With shaking hands, she ran it over the pup’s shoulder. A number appeared on the screen. Darcy made note of the number, then carried the puppy to an empty kennel and slid it inside. The pup whined at her. “You’ll only be in here a minute,” she said and shut the door and slid the catch in place.

  Then she hurried to the front office. “What’s going on?” Stacy asked. “Did something happen back there?”

  “What do you mean?” Darcy pulled Gage Walker’s folder from the filing cabinet and spread it open on the desk.

  “Mr. Alvin just ran out of here—without his dog.”

  Darcy looked up. “What?”

  “He couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” Stacy said.

  Darcy went to the window and peered out at the parking lot. Only her and Stacy’s cars were visible. “Did you see what he was driving?” she asked.

  “No.” Stacy folded her arms. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?”

  “Just a second.” Darcy returned to the folder and compared the code the microchip scanner had displayed with the code registered to the microchip she had implanted in Gage’s puppy, Admiral. They matched.

  Stacy peered over her shoulder. “What are you doing with Gage’s folder?”

  “The puppy back there—the one Jerry Alvin called Spike—is Gage Walker’s new dog.”

  “You mean that guy stole it?” Stacy’s eyes widened. “So all those bandages
must have been a disguise. But why bring it here?”

  “I don’t know.” Darcy picked up the phone and punched in Gage’s cell number. He answered on the third ring.

  “Darcy,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “Gage, I have your puppy, Admiral, here at the office,” she said.

  “What? What happened? Where’s Maya?”

  “A man who said his name was Jerry Alvin brought him in to see me,” Darcy said. “He was calling the dog Spike. As soon as I went into the back to check the dog’s microchip, he ran out the front door.”

  “I’ll be right over,” Gage said.

  Darcy went to the back and retrieved the puppy from the kennel. She wasn’t comfortable letting it out of her sight until its real owner arrived. Ten minutes later Gage walked into the office, along with Maya and Casey. The little girl squealed and ran to envelop the puppy in a hug.

  “We got in from school just a few minutes ago,” Maya said. “We were frantic when we couldn’t find Admiral. Gage called while we were looking for him.”

  “He’s perfectly fine,” Darcy reassured them. “Whoever took him didn’t hurt him.”

  Gage took a small notebook from the pocket of his uniform shirt. “Tell me about this Alvin,” he said. “What did he look like?”

  “That’s the thing,” Darcy said. “I can’t really tell you.” She explained about the bandages and sling.

  “It looked like a Halloween costume,” Stacy said. “He said he’d been in a car wreck.”

  “He told me he ran off the road and hit a tree,” Darcy said. “Even when he said that, I was thinking it didn’t sound right. He said his face went through the windshield, but wouldn’t the airbag have protected him from that? And even if he wasn’t wearing a seat belt, it seemed he would have been hurt worse. And do they really bandage people up like that—like mummies?”

  “How tall was he?” Gage asked. “What kind of build?”

  Darcy and Stacy exchanged glances. “Just—average,” Darcy said.

  “Maybe five-ten,” Stacy said. “Not too big, not too little.”

  “Hair color?” Gage asked. “Eye color?”

  “He had a knit cap pulled over his hair, but there were some blond strands sticking out,” Darcy said. “And I was so distracted by the bandages, I didn’t notice his eyes.”

  “How was he dressed?” Gage asked.

  “Jeans, a dark blue or black parka and the hat,” Darcy said. “I didn’t notice his shoes.”

  “The bandages and sling really drew all your attention, you know,” Stacy said. “I guess that was the idea.”

  “Did you get a look at his car?” Gage asked.

  Both women shook their heads.

  Gage pocketed the notebook. “I’ll ask the neighbors if they saw anyone around the house this afternoon.”

  “I’m so glad you thought to check the microchip,” Maya said. She held the puppy now, stroking the soft brown fur. “I don’t know what we’d have done if we lost him.”

  The front door opened and Ryder entered. “Darcy, are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I stopped by the sheriff’s department and Adelaide told me a guy showed up at your office who had stolen Gage’s dog.”

  “He did, but he ran away when I took the dog into the back room to check the microchip,” she said.

  “I don’t understand,” Stacy said. “Why bring the dog here in the first place? It wasn’t sick or hurt, and he had to have realized that in a town this small, the odds were good we had already seen the puppy.” She tapped her chin. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I think this guy was trying to seem older than he was. Like—I don’t know—a kid playing dress-up.”

  “You think this was a kid?” Darcy stared at her.

  Stacy scrunched up her nose. “Not a little kid, but maybe a teenager?”

  “I have an idea,” Ryder said. “Maya, do you have a high school yearbook at your house?”

  “Sure,” Maya said. “I have a copy of last year’s.”

  “Could you bring it to us? Now?”

  “Oh. Okay.” She took Casey’s hand. “Come on, honey. Let’s take Admiral home and get a book Trooper Stewart wants to look at.”

  “Why do you want to look at the school yearbook?” Darcy asked.

  “Just a hunch I have about who might have done this. You take care of your next patient and I’ll call you when Maya gets back with the book.”

  Darcy vaccinated a dachshund, and Maya and Gage returned together with the Eagle Mountain High School yearbook. “You think those daredevil high school students were behind this?” Gage asked as he handed over the yearbook.

  “I think it’s a possibility.” Ryder opened the book. “What year is Greg Eicklebaum?” he asked.

  “He’s a junior,” Maya said.

  Ryder flipped to the pages for the junior class and found Greg’s picture and showed it to Stacy and Darcy. They both peered at it, then shook their heads. “I was paying attention to the dog, not its owner,” Darcy said.

  “That’s not the guy,” Stacy said. “The hair was a lot lighter, and I’m pretty sure at least some of it was real.”

  “Try Gus Elcott,” Gage said.

  Ryder found Gus’s picture, but it got a no also. “Try Pi Calendri,” Maya said.

  “Who names their kid Pie?” Ryder asked as he turned pages.

  “It’s short for Giuseppe,” Maya said. “Apparently, a lot of Italians settled in this area at the turn of the last century to work in the mines. The Calendris have been here for generations. The story I heard is that Giuseppe is Italian for Joe. Someone started calling him Joe Pi, then it got shortened to Pi.” She shrugged. “He hangs out with Dallas and Greg.”

  Ryder studied the photograph of a mature-looking blond. He turned the page toward Stacy. “What about him?”

  “Bingo.” She nodded. “That’s him.”

  Darcy leaned over to take a look. “I think it could be him,” she said. “Something about the chin...”

  Ryder closed the book. “Why would Pi Calendri steal our dog?” Maya asked. “He’s not even in any of my classes.”

  “Why don’t we go talk to him and find out,” Gage said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Calendri home was in the same neighborhood as the Eicklebaums’, though the house was larger, with more spectacular views. An attractive blonde answered the door, and her carefully groomed brows rose at the sight of two law enforcement officers on her doorstep. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “Mrs. Calendri?” Ryder asked.

  She nodded. “We’d like to speak to Pi,” Ryder said. “Um, that is, Giuseppe.”

  “What is this about?”

  “We have a few questions for him,” Gage said. “We’d like you and your husband, if he’s home, to be present while we talk to him, of course.”

  “My husband isn’t here,” she said. “Should I call our lawyer?”

  “It’s just a few questions,” Ryder said. “May we come in?”

  She stepped back and allowed them to pass, then shut the door behind them. “Excuse me,” she said and hurried up the stairs to their left. A few moments later not-so-muffled tones of argument sounded overhead, though the words were too garbled for Ryder to make them out. A few seconds later mother and son descended the stairs.

  “Hello, officers.” A handsome young man, neatly dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, stepped forward and offered his hand. “My mother said you wanted to speak to me. Is this about that fender bender in the school parking lot yesterday afternoon? I’m afraid I wasn’t there. I had practice.”

  “Pi is rehearsing for the school’s production of Guys and Dolls,” Mrs. Calendri said. “He has the male lead.”

  “So yo
u’re in drama,” Gage said. He and Ryder exchanged looks. A drama student would know how to change his appearance and assume a different identity.

  “Yes, sir. You’re Ms. Renfro’s husband, aren’t you?” Pi asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Come into the living room and have a seat and tell us what this is all about.” Mrs. Calendri led them into a room that looked straight out of a top-end designer’s showroom—all leather and hammered copper and carved cedar. A fire crackled in a massive gas fireplace. A large white dog rose from a bed in front of the fire and padded over to greet them, tail slowly fanning back and forth.

  “Beautiful dog,” Ryder said, scratching the animal’s ears.

  “That’s Ghost,” Pi said. He sat on the end of the sofa. Ryder and Gage took chairs facing him. The dog sat beside the young man, who idly patted its back.

  “You like dogs, I see,” Ryder said.

  “Sure,” Pi said. “Who doesn’t?”

  “What is this about?” Mrs. Calendri asked.

  “I have a dog,” Gage said. “A chocolate Lab puppy, Admiral.”

  “Labs are great dogs,” Pi said. “Do you plan to train him to hunt?”

  “I hope to.” Gage scratched his chin. “Funny thing, though. Someone took Admiral out of my yard this afternoon.”

  “That’s terrible.” Pi looked suitably shocked, though Ryder thought he wasn’t ready for his professional acting debut just yet. “Do you know who did it?”

  “We have a very good idea,” Ryder said. “And we think you do, too.”

  “Are you accusing Pi of taking your dog?” Mrs. Calendri poised on the edge of her seat as if prepared to leap up and do battle on behalf of her child.

  “Funny thing about cops,” Gage said. “We’re very security conscious. And when you have a family, you can’t be too careful. Lots of us install security cameras in our homes.” Ryder noticed that Gage hadn’t said that he personally had a security camera, though he wanted Pi to think so.

  “Not to mention, the receptionist at the vet clinic where you tried to pass off Admiral as your own made you for a teenager right away,” Ryder said.