Lethal Invitation

by Randall Dale

  Perfect.

  He pulled to the shoulder thirty yards ahead. A young, backpack carrying man with long hair jogged to the car. The electric motor purred as Edward pushed the window button on the driver’s side armrest. The man leaned into the window.

  Edward tried to appear upbeat, anxious to help. “Where you headed?”

  “Phoenix.”

  “Hop in. Going there myself.”

  The man grinned as he slid into the leather-covered seat. “Thanks.”

  They made irritating small talk as they drove toward the outskirts of town. A large, green exit sign appeared and Edward could see the isolated location was perfect, with no stores or homes close by.

  He made his decision and quickly pulled his foot from the accelerator. “Did you hear that?”

  His passenger looked confused. “Hear what?”

  “Something’s not right.” He left the freeway onto the exit ramp down to what appeared to be a frontage road. He made sure to stay on the pavement and stopped the car on the deserted road. Covertly taking the Glock from under his seat, he stepped from the car and walked around pretending to look at the tires on the passenger side.

  “Look at this.”

  The hitchhiker pulled himself from the car, bending to see what Edward saw. When he stood with a shrug, Edward pointed the gun at his nose.

  “Lean over the hood with your hands behind your back.”

  “What is this?”

  “Just do it.” He roughly pushed the man to the front of the car but the hitchhiker instead fell to his knees. Edward tried to kick him but the man grabbed his leg, begging for his life.

  Edward pushed him away, then ordered him to stand and lean over the car hood. The dazed hitchhiker complied, laying completely on the flat metal with arms outstretched. Edward roughly grabbed the man’s left hand and pushed it to his back, then did the same with the right hand. He pulled the zip tie loop from his pocket, placing it over the man’s hands then drew it tight with a loud zzzip.

  He looked around. Cars slashed by on the freeway to their left, but it was too dark and too far for anyone to see what was happening at their location. The most significant danger was the possibility of a car using the same exit. Edward looked back along the frontage road, pleased to see no one was coming.

  The man became hysterical. “I don’t have any money. Don’t hurt me. I never did anything to you.”

  Edward leaned into the car to retrieve the pillow before jabbing the gun into the man’s ribs. He was satisfied with the grunt and the flinch. The loser was crying now, incoherent, babbling about being too young to die.

  “Over here.” He pulled on the man’s arm, dragging him from the car hood and directing him to kneel down six feet from the car.

  The hitchhiker screamed in panic but did as he was instructed.

  Edward placed the gun against the fabric of the pillow and pulled the trigger. He didn’t know enough about guns to know why, but the shell ejected from the semi-automatic weapon, tumbling up and over his cap and down inside the collar of his shirt. It happened so fast and was so hot it burned the flesh of his neck. He dropped the gun and pillow to rip the polo shirt over his head to get rid of the searing shell. While rubbing his neck, he realized with relief the hot brass hadn’t done any significant damage. He replaced his shirt, then looked for the casing with every intention of picking it up so there would be one less clue, but now it was lost in the dark and taking time to search for it was out of the question. After impatiently jerking the gun from the asphalt, he left the scene in a hurry without so much as a glance at the dead hitchhiker.

  Edward drove ahead, onto the entrance ramp and up to the freeway. As the Mustang gained speed, he touched the burn, initially certain it had raised a blister, but in rubbing the back of his neck he realized the shell had been hot enough to be uncomfortable, but not hot enough to actually cause a burn. He gritted his teeth, angry at himself for the panic which caused the empty shell casing to remain behind.

  The next exit seven miles up the road allowed him an opportunity to cross over the freeway and take the on-ramp back toward Tucson. As Edward drove, he replayed all that had happened. Other than the remaining casing, he remained confident there were no clues or loose ends, and the shell shouldn’t matter because it would match the shells from the other deeds. He’d stayed on the asphalt so there wouldn’t be any footprints or tire prints. There was nothing else. He was home free.

  In a macabre way, this particular killing had lived up to his expectations more than the first two. The hitchhiker groveled, begging for a reprieve. Edward relished the feeling of power and, as he thought about it, was anxious to see what Demetrius could come up with. He’d made no mistake, had left no traceable clues. A smile crept to his lips at the thought of the detectives scouring the scene and finding nothing but a pillow and the empty casing with the tall guy’s prints.

  ◆◆◆

  Demetrius sat in the soft chair in the lobby of the Violent Crimes Division office complex enjoying the view from the large, plate-glass window. It really wasn’t much of a view, only the street with cars hurrying to and fro and another government building across the street. Still, for a man in a small office with only a tiny window, any view of the outside was an improvement.

  He was there to meet a woman who called explaining she was a witness to an armed robbery. To his knowledge, the police hadn’t received any call about the robbery, but if the public wanted to get involved for a statement, he was all ears.

  Detectives worked on several cases at once, but the Smallwood murder had taken precedence for a couple of weeks. He and Dan looked every day for more clues or something to give them reason for suspicion, but there had been nothing new, and thankfully no killings, for the past several weeks. As a result, they were able to take more time on the rest of their caseload.

  He watched the steps leading into the building expecting at any moment to see the lady approach. He sat up. There was no lady but the Chief climbed the stairs accompanied by the Lieutenant.

  Demetrius watched with curiosity as they entered the building, marching directly toward the hall leading back to the detective’s offices. The Chief glanced his direction and stopped suddenly. He touched the Lieutenant on the shoulder before turning to approach.

  The big man stood, suddenly slightly worried. It appeared they were looking for him and had something to say. He thought instantly of the earlier meeting and hoped this didn’t mean something had changed.

  “Good morning.” He nodded greeting toward the Chief.

  “Hi, Demetrius.” No more time was wasted on niceties. “There’s been another killing and we’re pulling all the stops. I want you to drop everything and concentrate on the case.”

  “I see. What happened?” Demetrius glanced at the Lieutenant but the man refused to make eye contact.

  “A guy was shot in the back of the head through a pillow sometime in the night out by Marana It was discovered when it got light enough to see. A motorist called it in. It’s in the county jurisdiction but they called right away because it looks like it might be the same person we’ve been after. This is what they found.” From somewhere he pulled a manila envelope. Demetrius didn’t remember seeing it as the men walked up, but here it was.

  He took it from the big boss and glimpsed inside. He rattled the envelope, leaning it this way and that to get a better view.

  “A Winchester nine?” He looked up at the Chief.

  “Yep, and a pillow with a bullet hole. Drop everything not immediately pressing and find this guy.”

  “Yes, sir.” Demetrius thought for a moment of a conversation with Dan a few days earlier. They had talked of Dusty and how the kid sure seemed to have a nose for finding little, seemingly insignificant things that turned out to be important. They had wanted to bring him in to look at everything they knew just for a third opinion, but that just wasn’t something forensic techs did.

  Demetrius bravely looked at the Chief. “Can I get Dusty assigned t
o this case with us? He needs to look at this right away.” He lifted the envelope.

  “Anything you want. Just get this one solved.”

  With a nod, the Chief turned and strode from the room. The Lieutenant followed like a lost puppy.

  The big detective requested one of the receptionists call Dan, then he left word that if a lady with a story should show up, they could find him in forensics. He jogged up the stairs hoping Dusty was there.

  To his relief, he saw the youngster hunched over the magnifying apparatus. Walking around the counter, he stepped to Dusty’s side and touched him on the shoulder. The tech had been so focused on what he was studying, he jumped in surprise.

  “Man! You liked to scared me to death.”

  “Sorry.” Demetrius raised his eyebrows and shook the empty shell in the envelope. It rattled enticingly inside. “Got something for you, top priority.”

  The tech peered to the back of the room then glanced at Demetrius with a worried expression.

  The big detective smiled. “It’s okay. You’re temporarily reassigned to Dan and I and this case. Got it straight from the Chief.”

  Dusty smiled after one more glance toward the back of the room. “Okay. Whatcha got?”

  Demetrius held the envelope open for the young man to peer inside.

  “Another casing?”

  “Yep. Let’s see if it matches the others.”

  Dusty grinned and cleared the magnifying glass of what looked like two pieces of cloth, placing them with tweezers into two separate plastic evidence bags which he returned to the back of the room. He paused at a computer for part of a minute, then retrieved two more evidence bags, each with a spent casing inside. In the time he was gone, Dan hurried in.

  “What’s up?”

  Demetrius looked down at the smaller man. “We’re back in the saddle again, partner.” He emphasized the last word. “Another murder last night. The Chief wants these killings solved and has authorized us to concentrate on it one hundred percent.”

  The detectives moved out of Dusty’s way as he returned to his stool. They watched him use the tweezers to pluck one of the casings from the bag and place it on the bottom glass. He then allowed the new casing roll slowly from the paper envelope to lie beside the first.

  “Both Winchester nine-millimeter.” He glanced at both men and got nods in return. Spinning the casings so the primer ends of each faced him, he bent to gaze through the glass.

  With an occasional grunt and leaning from side to side to peer from different vantage points, Dusty studied the shells. Finally, he sat straight. “Same extractor pattern. That doesn’t necessarily mean it was the same gun, just the same make and probably the same model. Do you want me to see if I can lift some prints?”

  Demetrius chuckled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter 24

  Two detectives and one forensic tech sat in one of the smaller conference rooms on the second floor. Demetrius took the lead, explaining in detail the specifics of the earlier cases and how the killing of the night before almost certainly had been committed by the same individual. He and Dan had visited the site on the freeway frontage road and had interviewed the investigator from the Pima County Sheriff’s Office to glean any information on what he’d found.

  Demetrius knew Dan had the folders memorized, so mostly this briefing was to bring Dusty up to speed. He’d come to trust the young tech’s instincts and was glad the Chief had agreed to let the man work on the case. The different point of view he brought to the table might make the difference.

  Demetrius nodded to the young tech. “We’re ninety-nine point nine nine percent sure it’s the same guy because Stretch’s fingerprints were on all three spent casings.” The two detectives passed the folders to Dusty and watched with appreciation as he devoured them, occasionally asking pertinent questions. After an hour without a discovery of anything new, they tossed the folders to the table.

  Demetrius folded his arms as he leaned back in the big office chair. “Any ideas?”

  He looked from the detective to the tech, but neither had anything to volunteer. A shadow darkened the door. One of the secretaries took a step into the room.

  “Excuse me. Sorry to barge in but the county coroner’s office just called and asked for someone to go over there. They found something during the autopsy of last night’s murder victim.”

  Demetrius grabbed his coat and ran out the door, followed closely by Dusty and Dan.

  ◆◆◆

  Demetrius circled the University Medical Center parking lot two times before he found a parking space. The three men exited into the bright sunshine and strode purposefully through the lot toward the Pima County Medical Examiner’s facility. They stopped abruptly at a curb when a car approached and sped by with a honk even though a pedestrian crosswalk was clearly painted on the pavement. With a grumble, they made their way into the two-story building.

  After introducing themselves to the receptionist, they were led through a brightly lit hall to an even more brightly lit autopsy room in the back. A short, plump Asian woman in a white lab coat met them just inside. “Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Chan.”

  Demetrius made introductions then at her request followed to a stainless steel table where something, presumably a body, lay under a cloth.

  Dr. Chan smiled again. “None of you are squeamish, are you?”

  The three men looked at each other. Dusty and Dan shrugged while Demetrius shook his head.

  “Good.” She pulled the sheet back to the man’s chest.

  It was a gory sight. At least half of the right side of the man’s face was gone, presumably blown away by the expanding hollow-point bullet. Equally disconcerting was the man’s throat and chest. They had been sliced open during the autopsy and had flaps of skin hanging from the side. Demetrius swallowed hard and noticed Dusty stifling the urge to vomit. He patted the young man’s shoulder.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”

  Dr. Chan waited only a moment for the men to acclimatize to the dead body. She expertly pulled on rubber gloves with a snap of each on the wrist then stepped close to the body. The three men leaned in, anxious for whatever she had to tell them.

  She pointed to the head. “Obvious cause of death was the gunshot to the back of his head. It was a large caliber gun with a hollow-point bullet. I’ll admit to being somewhat surprised there were no associated powder burns at the entry site because the county detectives indicated it was a point-blank shot.”

  Demetrius knew the answer. “The killer uses a pillow to muffle the sound.”

  “Ah. That makes sense.”

  The big detective frowned. “Is that what you wanted us to see?”

  She smiled again. “No. This is what I wanted you to see.” She placed a thumb from each hand into the corner of the mouth and pulled the head up and the jaw down. With her right hand holding the head back, she pointed to the front teeth with her left.

  “See that?”

  The men edged closer. Dusty saw it first. “Is that paint?”

  She smiled. “Good eye. From what I can tell, he scratched something with his teeth just before he died.” She released the head and pressed the jaw upward. It closed with an audible clack of the teeth. Dr. Chan motioned with her head for the men to follow her. She removed the gloves, tossing them expertly into a trash container ten feet away. She raised her fists in jubilation at the shot.

  Demetrius chuckled.

  The men waited at her desk, standing while she took her seat. She plucked two glass vials from the drawer and held them for the men to see. Each was filled with a clear liquid and each held a small amount of red paint settled at the bottom. “I knew you would want to get this analyzed to see where it came from. I collected it from the back of his front teeth.”

  “Yes!” Dusty was exuberant.

  But Demetrius frowned. “What could he have scratched with his teeth before he was killed—and what difference could it make?”

  Dr.
Chan shrugged and raised her palms. “Not my department, but it was immediately before his death. I found no trace in his throat and none in his stomach. So whatever it was, it was only seconds before he got shot.”

  Dusty reached excitedly for the vials then turned to Demetrius. “Don’t you see? If we can identify the paint, there’s a chance we could trace where it came from. It could open up a bunch of possibilities.”

  The big man studied the forensic tech then glanced at Dan, catching the nod.

  “Okay then. Take it and run with it and let’s see where it takes us.”

  He turned to Dr. Chan. “You’ve been very helpful and we appreciate it. Is there anything else we need to know?”

  She smiled again, the black eyelashes making one small, straight line at her eyes. “Do you believe in Police Luck?”

  He shook his head, confused. “What?”

  “Luck. You know, when the time is right the clue appears.”

  Demetrius made a face. “I guess so. Is there another clue?”

  She laughed out loud while pulling two more vials from her desk drawer. “I found small traces of skin and hair under the victim’s fingernails. I assume they are from the murderer.”

  The big detective’s eyes snapped open. “You’ve got the murderer’s DNA?”

  “Possibly. I’ve already sent it off.” She winked and grinned. “Highest priority. We should have the sequencing back in two hours.”

  Two detectives and a forensic tech grinned like schoolkids. Dan spoke. “If we can get a match it’ll be an open and shut case.”

  Dusty shook his head. “That’s if you get a match. Remember, you’ll still have to find a suspect to test against.”

  Demetrius smiled and reached for the vials. Dr. Chan pulled them against her body.

  “No. These must stay here.”

  He looked at the determined woman and shrugged. “Very well. Anything else?”

  She shook her head.

  “Is there anything you need from us?”