Lieutenant DeLaRue didn’t even put his Crown Vic in park, he just backed out of his parking spot and started driving to the Compton Square district of Old Town. He started thinking of the scrutiny that his police department was under by the media. When they found out that there was a serial killer in their midst, the shit would hit the fan. Dawson felt a migraine coming on.
DeLaRue drove up 11th Ave. to the playground that was between the Food and More and the building with Ted and Ray’s establishments. It was a very cold morning, with snow flurries riding the wind. When he arrived, police cars and emergency vehicles were already there and to no surprise, two news vans with their microwave booms stretching toward the sky, taking the story live.
Dawson parked and got out of his car, drawing his coat tight. The low gray cloud cover matched his mood. He started walking toward the playground, which was circled with yellow crime scene tape and blue wooden police barricades. There were three very large tarps erected that tried to conceal the victim from the news cameras. Dawson was met by Detective McVie, who stretched the tape high for the Lieutenant to go under before the throng of reporters could get to him.
“Press is all over the goddamn place,” Frank said as he walked quickly to keep up with DeLaRue.
“Yeah, well not much we can do about that now,” Dawson said while reaching for a cigarette. “Cat's pretty much outta the bag. What do we have, Frank?”
“Female, approximately eighteen to twenty-two years old, strung up like a Christmas goose between the frame of the swing set. Naked like the others, gutted like the others.”
Dawson, as he got closer, could see the chief medical examiner and the crime scene techs milling about the victim. Lieutenant DeLaRue started really contemplating retirement when he saw the victim. She was young, in a sitting position with her head back and arms spread wide. Her wrists were tied to the side frames of the bi-pod swing set. She was naked, breasts folded back like that of an open book revealing an empty chest cavity.
“This one’s really disturbing,” Doctor Martin Riviera said to Dawson.
“How so?” DeLaRue asked, while taking a deep drag from his cigarette, thinking aren’t they all.
“Well, most of this was done to her while she was still alive.”
“Good God!” Frank said.
“Yeah,” the medical examiner said. “She was vivisected.”
Dawson could not comprehend what this poor girl had gone through and he tried very hard not to. He looked down at her. She had short blond hair matted down with the cold morning dew. Her head was back, leaning upon her right shoulder, eyes and mouth slightly open, with black mascara and dried tear streaks running down her cheeks.
Jeff Trent and Genghis Khan were parked a block and a half from the playground. Trent had the IPF binoculars to his eyes. “The large dark man in the hat seems to be in charge. Could be that Lieutenant DeLaRue,” he was saying as he surveyed the crime scene.
Genghis had been monitoring the Westberry Police Department's emergency lines and radio transmissions ever since he intercepted the robbery call from the auto parts store. When the call came in earlier that morning about a body found in the playground, they decided to check it out. Jennifer was still sleeping, so Jeff left her a hastily written note and the two got on the road.
Jeff adjusted the binoculars and zoomed in incredibly close, he could see between the tarps. “The brutality fits Prodor,” he said, handing the glasses to Genghis, who quickly looked around. The people who were gathered were concentrating on the police activities, so Genghis took the binoculars between his paws and viewed the scene.
“Yeah, it’s brutal alright,” Genghis said. “Could very well be Prodor. It seems to be something he . . .would . . . do.” He paused for a moment. “Son of a bitch!” He brought the glasses down and surveyed the scene in the distance, then raised them to his eyes again. “Jeff!” He then handed the glasses back to him. “Jeff, the victim? Look at her. Look at her face.”
Jeff did. “Oh, no, Genghis. No. It’s Trisha!”
“We’ll probably have an ID on her by tomorrow, maybe the next,” Frank was saying, as Dawson and he were walking back to their cars after fending off media questions with a couple of 'no comments.' “If she’s in the system, maybe sooner.” Frank stopped and said, “Well, will you look at that?”
“What?” DeLaRue asked, pulling another cigarette out. “Look at what?”
He pointed up the road. “That white T-Bird. My best friend's dad used to buy and restore old cars and sell 'em. He had one of those for a while when we were in high school. He let us drive it to homecoming.”
“Nice condition,” Dawson said, shading his eyes from the morning sun that was trying to break through the cloud cover. “Guy must have put a lot of work into it.”
“Yeah really, I couldn’t have. I don’t have the patience for something like that. I’d just buy one already fixed up. That is, if I had the money.”
“What is that,” DeLaRue asked, “a ‘58?”
“No, ‘59 for sure,” Frank responded. He, too, was shading his eyes, “What’s he got there? A camera?”
“Nah, I think it’s a pair of binoculars,” Dawson said. “Some people just can’t get enough of this sick shit.” He lit the cigarette. “You want to get some breakfast Frank?” he asked as he shook out his match.
“Yeah, let's,” Frank said, realizing how hungry he really was. They both continued to walk to their respective cars. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Jeff and Genghis were driving back to the apartment after surveying the crime scene and contemplating when would be a good time to tell Jennifer. “Let's wait until tonight,” Jeff said. “She’s really excited about looking for a job today, and I don’t want to do anything that will discourage her.”
They stopped at Dave’s and got coffee, along with a cup for Jennifer. Monica was happy to see them, and talked with them for sometime. As Jeff and Genghis turned to leave, Monica stopped them with a big silvery grin and handed Jeff a bag of complementary doughnuts.
The bales of hay and colorful pumpkins were now replaced with decorative strings of lights outlining the buildings of Old Town, with Christmas trees and animated Santa Clauses displayed in store fronts. The sun that tried its best to shine through the cloud cover earlier that morning failed, and the day grew colder. Jeff and Genghis drove back to the apartment with the top of the Thunderbird up and the car’s heater on.
They entered the apartment through the backstairs, where they were met by a beaming Jennifer. She was ready for her job prospects; her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was dressed in a charcoal gray pinstriped pantsuit.
“Whoa,” Genghis said, stopping in his tracks. “Looking great, Twink! I’d hire you.”
“Aw, you're just saying that.”
“No, Twinkie,” Jeff said. “You look smashing!”
“Thank you. I’m so excited! Jeff, if you could drop me off on Eighth Street, I’ll just go from store to store filling out applications and see what happens.”
“Yes, I said I would, but first here’s some coffee.” He handed her a cup. “Monica says good luck and if you go by Dave’s she’ll put in a good word for you.”
“She’s a sweetheart,” she said, taking the cup and reaching into the bag for a doughnut. “I really like her.” She took a bite, being careful not to get powdered sugar on her clothes. “I’m thinking that more than half of the shops will be hiring for the Christmas rush, so I’m a shoe-in!”
“You’ll do great, Twinkie,” Genghis told her. “And when you get back, could you explain this Christmas thing to us again? The lights in town are really pretty.”
“I’ll do even better. How about if I rent some DVD’s for tonight, and we’ll watch a bunch of Christmas movies? That should help explain it all for you.”
Jeff and Genghis shared a look with each other, and Genghis said, “That sounds like a plan, Stan!”
Jennifer
donned a knee-length black winter coat, grabbed her purse, and the three of them climbed into the Thunderbird and drove to Eighth Street.
Jeff and Genghis dropped Jennifer in front of Le Pot Au Feu on Eighth Street, her first stop. She said that she would call in a couple of hours when she was finished and would buy dinner to celebrate. They wished her good luck and drove on.
Jeff and Genghis spent a couple of hours going to the different crime scenes where the possible Moffit victims were found. Genghis had all the locations from the Westberry Police Department’s hard drives, and started where Trisha was found. The playground was cleaned up and open to the public, but it seemed to Jeff and Genghis that the playground hadn’t been used in years. There was nothing here – not even the D30 detection unit could find anything for them. They traveled on to the other sites, but being that they were even older crime scenes, they were not expecting to find anything. Which they didn’t.
The white phone in the kitchen rang five minutes before two pm. Jeff and Genghis were already in the kitchen. Jeff was putting coffee on while Genghis was rummaging through a floor cabinet. Jeff, picking the phone up, knew who it would be, “Good afternoon, Jeff Trent speaking,” he said. “Well sure, Twinkie, I’ll come by and get you. How did it go? Oh, . . . Okay, I’ll be there in about ten, fifteen minutes.” He said bye and hung up.
“How did she do?” Genghis asked. while standing amidst the pans and cookie sheets that he pulled from the cabinets.
“Not sure,” Jeff replied, “but I don’t think it went too well. She didn’t sound too happy.”
“Aw, poor kid,” the Doberman Pinscher said, while pulling an oven mitt from a drawer beside the stove.
Jeff, pulling on his coat, said, “She’s waiting for me in Grant Park. Same bench she met Trisha and Pimples that day I dropped her off for the movie.”
Genghis looked up at Jeff. “You know, if she had a bad day . . .”
“I know,” Jeff finished Genghis’s statement. “We’ll have to tell her about Trisha later.”
Jeff drove to Grant Park. The day was still cold, so he drove with the Thunderbird’s top up. He pulled to the curb of Seventh Avenue bordering Grant Park and saw Jennifer on the bench, coat tightly pulled around her and sitting slightly hunched over with legs stretched out in front of her, looking dejected. He turned off the cruiser and got out. She didn’t even notice that he pulled up. Jeff buttoned up his coat as he approached her. The leaves from the surrounding trees crunched under foot and as he got close, she looked up.
It seemed to Jeff as if she had been crying. “Twink!” he said, as he sat next to her. “Twinkie, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“Oh, nothing! That’s what happened,” she said, snuffling. “I hit about eight different stores and filled out about eight different applications. But none of them even gave me the time of day. Only two managers talked to me and that was only for about three minutes, the rest just said thanks, but no thanks!”
“I don’t understand, Twinkie. Why would they not even talk to you?”
“Well, I don't really have any prior employment. And I guess you wouldn’t know this, but there’s a little box on the applications that you have to check if you've ever been arrested before, giving them the okay to do a background check on you.” She looked up at Trent and her lower lip started to quiver. She then looked down at her feet. “Which I guess they would have done anyway. But, about four years ago I was . . . well, you know. Anyway, I didn’t know he was a cop. No jail time, but I did get two months community . . . I guess, they didn’t want me anywhere near their cash registers,” she said, as a tear rolled down her cheek.
Jeff took his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “It’s alright, Jennifer, it’s alright.”
“I’ve made some stupid-ass decisions in my life, Jeff, and now they’re all coming back to bite me on my ass!”
“Twinkie, everybody makes stupid-ass decisions.” He looked down at her as she looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Genghis and I have made plenty. You can’t let this defeat you.” He tightened his grip around her and could smell the eucalyptus shampoo she used that morning. “Jennifer, Genghis and I haven’t been here that long, but the one thing I have noticed is that the human race surprises me everyday. I watch the news reports, they do amazing things for each other when one is in need. You’ve just become complacent and you just don’t see it anymore. Someone will overlook that part of your past. Believe me, you’ll be surprised!”
“Yeah . . . I guess.”
“Did you go see Monica? She told me that Dave was short-handed.”
“No,” she took her hand and wiped at her eyes. “I didn’t even bother. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of her!”
Jeff pulled her close again. “It’ll be okay, Jennifer. I promise!”
“Really?”
“Yes, it will.”
“You got a pretty big heart for an extraterrestrial, you know that?” Jennifer said. “How many did you say you have?”
“Just the one.”
Jennifer laughed at her own joke and said, “You're one of a kind, Jeff Trent.” She looked up at him, “Well . . . you really are!”
“Come on, Twinkie. Let’s get home.” He stood up and held his hand out for her. “Genghis is trying to bake brownies.”
She took his hand, and he helped her off the bench. “Oh, my God, are you kidding me? How is he going to pull that off without opposable thumbs?”
“I’m not sure,” Jeff replied, as they both started walking back to the Thunderbird. “But I think we better get back to the house before he burns it down!”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
When Jeff and Jennifer opened the back door of the apartment they were met by a small cloud of blue-gray smoke that curled at the ceiling. They watched as it gently traveled down the backstairs and dissipated. They exchanged glances with each other.
Entering the kitchen, they found Genghis standing in front of the open oven door. Inside the oven was a cookie sheet of very well-done brownies.
“Well, that didn’t go as well as I planned,” Genghis said. He looked down at the oven mitt on the floor. It had a hole burned through the tip and was still smoldering. “You know, Codas canines are quite the little bakers.”
Jeff looked at Jennifer and said enthusiastically, “Oh, they really are, you know.”
“Genghis, what did you do?” Jennifer said, as she took a dish towel and removed the cookie sheet of burned baked goods.
“Got me! I followed the three easy steps on the back of the box.”
“Genghis, you have the oven set at 530 degrees!” She turned the oven off. “The box said 350!”
“Really! Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m pretty sure.” She grabbed another box of brownie mix from the cupboard. “Mister Khan, let me show you how we do things down here on Earth. Go get me the eggs and milk outta the fridge. Mister Trent!” She turned toward Jeff. “We’re gonna need coffee.”
Jennifer was in her bedroom changing into an oversized t-shirt, gray flannel sweatpants, and thick wool socks. Jeff was filling the coffee mugs, relating to Genghis what Jennifer told him about her day. “Well, that’s not a fair assumption,” Genghis said when he heard the story. “Not fair at all!”
“I know, but . . .” Jeff started to say, but stopped when he heard Jennifer come out of her room and enter the bathroom. Then, Genghis continued in a lower voice.
“It’s not like she’s a hardened criminal, a bank robber, or anything like that! It was a solicitation charge, a misdemeanor on this planet!”
“I know, but I don’t think the applications asked for such particulars.” Jeff said as the oven timer started to beep. “I think all they saw was the check in the 'arrested box' and didn’t bother taking it any further.” Jeff walked to the oven and pushed the timer button off.
Genghis walked out of the kitchen in a huff. “Not if I can help it!”
“Twinkie!” Jeff called out to her.
“The timer went off! What do you want me to do?”
“Go ahead and turn the oven off,” Jennifer called back.
Jeff looked at the oven like he was about to defuse a bomb. He quickly spun the oven knob to the off position. “What now? Twinkie?” He peered through the oven window. “What should I do now?” He didn't want to repeat Genghis’s mistake with the first batch. “Do you want me to take them out?”
He could hear the toilet flush. “Just leave them for a second.”
“But aren’t they going to burn?”
“They’ll be fine for a second.” He heard the faucet running.
“You sure? You sure I shouldn’t take them out? Won’t they burn?”
She came out of the bathroom. “They’ll be fine, believe me, we won’t have to call the burn unit! It won’t be another Genghis fiasco.”
“Hey!” Genghis fired back from the living room. “I'm sitting right here!”
Jennifer grabbed the dish towel and removed the brownies. She let them cool for a couple of minutes while getting a knife from a drawer then cut the perfectly baked brownies into nice cubes. She placed them on a plate while Jeff brought their coffee mugs into the living room.
Jennifer sat next to Genghis, who was sitting on the couch, haunches on the seat cushion, front legs planted on the ground. Jeff sat next to Jennifer, eating a brownie. “Mmm, excellent, Miss Winkles!”
“Thank you, Mister Trent. It’s a little something I’ve perfected over the . . .” She paused in mid sentence, staring at the computer on the coffee table.
Genghis looked at her with a smirk and said, “Nice picture, Twink.”
Jennifer was staring at her own mugshot from four years earlier on the computer screen. “That’s not funny, Genghis!” She leaned in. “Come on! That’s not funny at all! Get that off.” She looked closer. “Is that . . . that’s my arrest record too!”
The Interstellar Police Force, Book One: The Historic Mission Page 26