Speaking for the Dead

by Bill Craig

  SPEAKING FOR THE DEAD

  A MOSEBY AND FRENCH MYSTERY

  BILL CRAIG

  DEDICATION:

  To all of the brave people in Law Enforcement. We thank you for your service. And for my children with love!

  Copyright 2016 by Bill Craig. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American copyright conventions.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by information storage or retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locales, incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Sunny Cargill started her run just before dark, hoping that with the sun going down the air would be a little cooler. She wanted to sweat during her nightly run but she didn’t want to be soaked like a wet dishrag. She preferred running in the mornings but an early appointment had prevented that from happening on this particular day. Sunny was a slender blonde with a lean runner’s body, great calves and a nice round and toned butt. She liked the fact that she was small breasted because her boobs weren’t a problem while she ran.

  This evening, she had on neon pink running shorts, a lime green sports bra, pink Nike cross trainers and ankle high white socks. A neon pink cotton headband encircled her head and her hair was bound up in a white ponytail holder. She was running the Suncoast Trail tonight because it wasn’t that far from her apartment.

  The Suncoast Trail is officially designated as part of Florida’s Statewide Greenways and Trails System. A large portion of the 41.3-mile trail is paved and runs adjacent to the Suncoast Highway. Although the road was out of sight, automobile sounds reminded her that she wasn’t in a deep wilderness and that was reassuring. She was surprised that she had only seen one bicyclist on her run, because there were usually plenty of them around. She had gone about five miles before noticing that it was getting dark in the wooded path. She hadn’t bothered bringing a flashlight with her, so she wanted to head back before it got too dark. She had just topped a hill and planned to turn around when she reached the bottom of the dip. She never got the chance.

  Something barreled out of the darkness and hit her side, knocking her off her feet to hit the ground hard. Sharp pain lanced across the backs of her ankles and something warm and liquid soaked into her socks. A large hand clamped over her mouth cutting off her scream. Her wide blue eyes caught the glint of light on metal just before everything went black.

  Eventually the normal insect and animal sounds returned, audible over the sounds of the nearby highway. Thunder rumbled in the night sky and eventually it began to rain.

  ~~~

  Morning had come clear and bright with a cooling breeze and low humidity; the temperature having dropped into the upper fifties with the passage of the storm the night before. Detective Sgt. Garrett Moseby guided the unmarked police car into the parking area just off Lutz Lake Fern Road. “It’s too pretty a day for this,” Lucy French, his partner said as she sipped from her coffee cup.

  “I agree, but homicide never takes a day off,” Moseby replied as he put the car in park and shut it off. Moseby opened his door and stepped out of the car. He cut an imposing figure at just over six feet with wide- shoulders, and narrow hips. His once brown hair was now closer to battleship gray, yet his blue eyes remained sharp and clear. His tan suit jacket hung loose around him, giving him instant access to the Colt .45 holstered under his left arm. He carried his coffee cup in his left hand as he waited for French to exit the car.

  By contrast, Lucy French was barely five foot three in heels and had brown eyes and high cheekbones with a slightly bobbed nose over perfect cupid-bow lips. Her eyelashes were long and full. She had curves that made most men stop and take a second look. Her dark hair was streaked with blonde highlights courtesy of the Florida sun. She was wearing a mint green pantsuit with a coral colored shell blouse. Despite her appearance, she was tough as nails and was considered a master of Krav Magna, the Israeli martial art.

  Together they walked over to the four uniforms standing next to their patrol cars. “What have we got?” Moseby asked, taking the lead.

  “We have a dead body a mile up the trail. She might have been sexually assaulted but there isn’t any way to tell before the autopsy happens,” One of the uniforms told him.

  “Your name?”

  “Ramon Gutierrez,” the police officer told him.

  “Thanks,” Moseby told him.

  “Just doing my job.”

  “I know that. I’m not trying to take anything away from you,” Moseby told him.

  “Good to know. A lot of the guys have been getting screwed over by detectives of late,” Gutierrez said.

  “I ain’t one of those. My priority is the murder victim. Somebody should speak for the dead. I figure that is my job,” Moseby shrugged.

  “Good to know. Too many good cops have been getting shut down by IA of late.”

  “Yeah, I heard that too. I ain’t working for the snitch force. I just speak for the dead and see what I can find out about the killer,” Moseby shrugged.

  “Okay, I buy that. This girl, she has been worked over but good. Don’t appear to be no sex thing, but you never know,” Gutierrez shrugged.

  “Why are you so sure it’s not a sex thing?” Lucy French asked. “You some kind of rape expert? Have you even seen the body with your own eyes?”

  “Who the hell would want to get eat up by mosquitoes having sex out here?” Gutierrez rolled his eyes.

  “Rape got nothing to do with sex, asshole. Why don’t you make sure the press don’t get too close? Or maybe you’re hoping to get some screen time and up your profile in the department?” French glared at him. Gutierrez looked like he was about to respond but Moseby cut him off.

  “I may just have to pass your name along to the rat squad if you say another word. I’m betting that they can find something on you,” Moseby said, his eyes daring the patrolman to open his mouth again. Gutierrez turned and stalked away. “There you go again partner, winning hearts and minds.”

  “Go fuck yourself, Moseby. Hope you got your walking shoes on. A mile hike ain’t gonna be fun,” French replied sweetly.

  “Shucks, partner, you say the sweetest things,” Moseby grinned at her. Together they started off down the trail. They had been partners for about five years and they had one of the highest clearance rates in the department.

  “This being done on the trail, I wonder who had jurisdiction on it? Us, the County, or the State? It’s probably going to be a fucking nightmare.”

  “More than likely. Maybe the guys with the body will know something.”

  “How you want to work this? Rain last night likely washed away a lot of evidence if she was killed last night.”

  “We work it like we normally do. I’ve got my recorder to record what I see. You write your impressions and then we compare notes. You know as well as I do we each see different things from the start. Maybe we’ll get lucky and she was killed after the storm.”

  “That would be a pleasant surprise for a change,” French popped a stick of gum in her mouth and started chewing it.

  “Still trying to quit smoking?” Moseby asked.

  “Yeah, except now I’m spending as much on chewing gum as I did on cigarettes,” French replied.

  “Have you tried that nicotine gum? I know a few guys that have quit smoking using that.”

  “But for how long?”

  “Touché, Partner.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” French laughed
as they kept walking. The morning was heating up fast. Not even 9 o’clock and the temperature was already pushing 80 degrees. The good part was that they were walking in the shade instead of under the rapidly climbing sun. That kept them a little cooler under the trees.

  Moseby finished his coffee and dropped the cup into one of the trashcans that were tied to wooden posts along the trail. The park doing its part to prevent littering. It took them about half an hour to reach the crime scene. Two park rangers had taped off a good-sized area around the body which lay just off the trail. The two detectives stopped to take in the scene, noting the location of the body, where the rangers and a man and a woman in jogging clothes were standing.

  “I’ll look at the body first, you talk to the rangers and the two civilians,” Moseby directed. As senior partner, he was in charge. He pulled his Sony digital recorder out of his pocket and thumbed the button to turn it on as he walked towards the body. His badge displayed prominently on his belt.

  One of the rangers nodded to acknowledge him before moving forward to shake hands with Lucy French. That suited Moseby just fine. He wanted to be alone with the body for a few moments. It allowed him to connect with the victim. He hit the record button as he stepped inside the yellow taped area.

  “The victim is just off the trail. The attack was evidently fast and brutal and she never saw it coming. She was wearing ear buds and never heard the attacked. I don’t see a phone or MP3 player anywhere but the killer could have taken it. Cuts all over her body. Arms out to her sides, legs spread open, one bent at the knee. Cuts to arms and legs and torso, probably stab wounds as well. What’s left of her clothing is in tatters. Including her running shorts. The Medical Examiner will have to determine if she was sexually assaulted, but judging by the blood in her groin area it is probably a sign of some sort of sexual assault.

  “The only part of her body never displaying cuts is her face. It’s almost as if the killer wanted to preserve her beauty while cutting the rest of her to pieces. Why would he do that? Is it important? It is obvious that he was hidden along the trail and waiting. Was she a random victim? Or had he stalked her first, finding out her routine? Did she know her killer? Why this girl? Why this spot? Right now we don’t know a lot. Time of death will help us figure out when she was killed. The big question is why was she killed? Was it something personal? A grudge? Was she targeted? Was it related to her professional life? Her personal life? What made this young woman a victim? No sign of a murder weapon being left at the scene, so the killer took it with them. It looks like he slashed her Achilles tendons first to cripple her and keeping her from getting away. Socks are drenched in blood,” Moseby said, shutting off the recorder. He walked away from the body to join French where she was talking to the two rangers and the couple that had apparently found the body and called it in.

  “What have you got?” Moseby asked the two rangers.

  “These two were out for their morning run. Saw the body next to the trail. They saw the blood and called it in. Took us about fifteen minutes to get here. Soon as we saw what we had, we called for you guys,” the first ranger said.

  “I know this part of the trail is in the city, technically, but we still aren’t real sure who has jurisdiction, considering that the trail runs through four counties,” French said.

  “Our boss said you guys do,” the second ranger replied.

  “Unless the FDLE tries to come in and take it away from us,” Moseby sighed. “So who are these folks that found the body?”

  “Ken Carpenter and Myra Smoot, according to their ID’s. They have been dating for about a year and they run out here every day,” the first ranger said.

  “You have a name?” Moseby asked him.

  “Jim Elkins. My partner, there is Sam Kramer,” Elkins replied.

  “Okay, Jim. Have they ever seen the victim before?”

  “I haven’t asked them. I’ve been waiting on you guys for that,” Elkins replied.

  “Okay, Jim. Thanks for that. Can you guys go back and bring the ME here once she arrives?”

  “Sure thing. I’ll have Sam bring back an extra golf cart for you guys so you don’t have to walk out,” Elkins told him.

  “I appreciate that, Jim. Thank you,” Moseby told him, meaning it. The ranger nodded and waved to his partner and they headed back towards the parking lot leaving Moseby and French with the two people that had found the body. Moseby stood back and let French talk to them. She was much better with witnesses than he was. But he listened closely to what they had to say.

  “We come out here every day,” Myra Smoot was saying.

  “How many miles do you usually run?” Lucy asked.

  “Normally about five. Today got cut really short.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. Had you ever seen this woman out here before?” French asked.

  “A few times,” Ken Carpenter responded.

  “Do you know her name?”

  “No, we just saw her running. She was never with anyone, but then a lot of single runners frequent this trail.”

  “You guys ever run at night?”

  “Not at night really, but early evening.”

  “Is that when you saw her? Or was she a morning runner?”

  “No, we usually saw her at night,” Myra said. Moseby stood back, taking it all in. More than likely, the victim had been killed the night before, either before or during the storm. Any other evening runners might not have noticed her off the side of the trail. He filed that tidbit of information away.

  Chapter Two

  Moseby and French had let the two runners head back after getting contact information. They really had not been able to offer a whole lot about the dead woman other than that had seen her running out there before and they had found her this morning on their run. Moseby had stood back and watched French look over the body, looking at it closely for the first time since they had arrived on the scene. His cell phone rang and he pulled it out, glancing at the screen before answering it.

  “Moseby,” he said.

  “Hey, Garrett we’re heading your way on golf carts. Apparently, the meat wagon isn’t allowed on the trail,” Lisa Blair’s voice filled his ear. Lisa worked for the Hillsborough County Medical Examiner’s office. She was one of the best forensic specialists in South Florida.

  “Get here when you can. We aren’t going anywhere,” Garrett Moseby told her.

  “I should hope not,” he could hear her laughter as she broke the connection. Moseby looked over at French.

  “Lisa Blair’s on her way down the trail,” he told her. French nodded back absently as she walked along the edges of the trail near the body.

  “Got something,” she called, squatting down in the grass. Moseby walked over to see what she was looking at. It was an iPod MP3 player, ear buds still plugged into it.

  “You think it’s hers?”

  “I think it’s a good bet.”

  “If she had those in her ears, she never heard her attacker. He was on her before she knew what hit her,” Moseby sighed. That answered one question.

  “People need to learn to be aware of their surroundings, especially when they are someplace isolated like this. Earbuds are a distraction. They shut out the noise that might have warned her and kept her alive,” French shook her head.

  “I wonder if her prints are in the system.”

  “We’ll find out after they get her back to the lab.”

  “Speaking of which, here comes Lisa and the Crime Scene Unit.:

  “Which means once we have a time of death, we can go ahead and get back to the office and start the murder book.”

  “And we can compare notes on the scene and the victim. That too. I have a bad feeling about this one. He seemed to like what he was doing. She won’t be the last one,” Moseby sighed.

  “This attack was raw and brutal, but yeah, I think you’re right. He started to enjoy it and got high on the power of what he was doing. He’s going to try to recapture that high with another victim,”
Lucy French agreed.

  “Captain Stanley ain’t gonna be happy when we tell him that,” Moseby observed.

  “Nope, but when is he ever happy?”

  “Good point.” About that time the golf carts bearing Lisa Blair, her helpers, and the Crime Scene Investigators arrived.

  “Looks messy,” Lisa said as soon as she saw the body.

  “It looks even worse up close,” Moseby warned her.

  “I’m sure it does. What do you need from me?”

  “Time of death would be helpful,” French added.

  “I can do that. Anything else will have to wait until I have her on the table,” Lisa Blair said as she pulled on latex gloves and approached the body with a liver temp probe. Testing the temperature of the liver would at least give them an approximate time of death based on the cooling of the body after death.

  Lisa knelt and cut into the body and inserted the probe. She looked over her shoulder at Moseby. “What time did it start raining last night?” she asked.

  “Around 9 o’clock,” he replied.

  “She died shortly before then based on body temp. The storm would have cooled her down even quicker.

  “So approximately between 8:30 and 9 p.m.” Moseby calculated.

  “In that general area, yes. Like I said, I’ll be able to tell you more when I get her on the table.”

  “Make this one a priority, Doc. I have a bad feeling that this guy is just getting started,” Moseby told her.

  “I wish I could say that you’re wrong, Garrett, but from what I can see, I don’t disagree,” Lisa Blair told him soberly.

  “Thanks, Doc. When do you think you’ll be doing the cut?”

  “Soon as I get her back.”

  “Okay, we’ll be down to see you in a couple of hours,” Moseby said as he and French climbed into a golf cart and headed back towards the parking lot.

  “So what do you think?” Lucy asked from the passenger side.