by Lolli Powell
She leaned back and closed her eyes. I’ve come a long way, she thought, to have a thought like that. It had taken her a lot of time and a lot of introspection to finally admit that had Jake lived, they would probably have divorced.
Oh, certainly she had been madly in love with him once, but it was the love of a young girl awed by the strong, virile, take-charge kind of guy on whom she had placed the label of “hero.” He had loved her because she saw him that way. Theirs had not been the love of equals, and eventually it wouldn’t have been enough for her.
That was one reason she’d avoided commitment since Jake’s death. Not many men existed who could truly love a woman as an equal. And since there was no way under the sun that she was going to give up her independence, she was afraid of what would happen to any relationship she became involved in. Independent or not, she could still suffer a broken heart.
But more than potential damage to her heart, there was Brandon to consider. If she did become involved in a serious relationship, it would have to be with someone Brandon liked and who liked Brandon. She wouldn’t be the only one hurt if it didn’t work out.
She stole a quick glance at the hunk behind the wheel, wondering if she could just have a casual thing with this man—a couple of dates, some good times, nothing more. But as she ran her eyes over him, noting the confident way he held himself, his strong hands on the steering wheel, and his thigh muscles pressing against the cloth of his suit pants—not to mention the very enticing bulge in the crotch of those pants—she doubted she would be able to keep it casual. His maleness excited her in a delicious and dangerous way that could become addicting. And the best way to avoid addiction to any substance was to take Nancy Reagan’s advice and “just say no.”
Of course, there was the probability that he was married or at least seriously involved with someone. He was too attractive to be unattached. That would make it much easier for her to deny herself the pleasure she was certain he could provide.
“In case you’re wondering, I’m not,” he said.
“Not what?”
“Married. Or involved with anyone.”
He smiled at her astonished expression and knew he’d been right about what she’d been thinking.
Jen opened her mouth to insist that she didn’t care one way or the other but snapped it shut again. No matter what she said, it would only make things worse. It would be a case of the lady protesting too much. Instead, she directed her attention back to the road and gave a slight shrug accompanied by a noncommittal grunt. Let him read what he wants into that, she thought.
Then she smiled slightly. So he wasn’t married after all. Interesting. Not that she was going to do anything about it, but still…it was interesting.
“I’m divorced,” he said. “Three years now. I have three kids, two girls and a boy. Christina just turned six, Michael’s eight, and Lisa’s twelve going on twenty. Gloria’s remarried to a pretty nice guy who treats my kids great. In fact, they just live about an hour from here, over in Indiana.”
Jen’s curiosity was piqued in spite of her resolve to appear disinterested.
“You actually like your wife’s new husband?”
“Ex-wife,” he corrected. “And, yes, I do like Joe. Gloria and I parted as friends, so there were no hard feelings to pin on somebody else.”
“I didn’t know there were such things as friendly divorces.”
He laughed.
“I don’t think they’re too common. But in our case, it’s true. Gloria and I have known each other since we were kids. Somehow we started dating in high school and just drifted into marriage. There was never any wild passion—just two friends who were comfortable with each other. Not that that’s all bad.”
He looked at her, his eyes warm with desire.
“Of course, sometimes a man doesn’t know what he’s been missing until he finds it.”
Jen looked away quickly, angry with herself for feeling pleased at what he was hinting. He’s smooth, she told herself, practiced with his lines. That was all it was. It was to be expected from a man who looked like he looked.
Will saw her expression and mentally cursed himself. He’d meant what he said, but he knew it sounded phony.
“So, do you have any ideas about the murders?” Better change tack before he chased her further away. Besides, he really did want to know what she thought. “I mean, about how he selects the victims.”
Jen shook her head, relieved at the change of subject.
“No,” she said. “That’s our biggest problem. If we could figure that out, maybe we could get one step ahead of him.”
She looked at his handsome profile.
“What about his father? How did he choose his victims?”
“You’d better watch yourself.” He smiled, still looking at the road. “You’re already accepting that your killer is Arthur Kelty.”
“For the sake of argument only. I assure you I’ll keep an open mind till we get some proof one way or another.”
“Wayne was a jack-of-all-trades,” Will said. “He could do just about anything—carpentry, plumbing, roofing, electrical work, you name it. He was even a first-rate mechanic. That was how he met his victims. If they lived alone or the men in their lives were gone for long periods of time, like in the service or for their job, they made it to his list.”
“If that was the case, why didn’t the police in Minneapolis—or all those other cities, for that matter—tumble to him? I mean, if all the victims had the same guy doing work for them, I would think somebody would get suspicious.”
“It wasn’t that simple.” Will shook his head. “In Minneapolis, for example, he worked for a roofing company the first victim used and repaired the second one’s car. The third one had gotten an estimate from him for some cabinetry work. He gave each one a different name. The fourth and fifth ones were simply unfortunate enough to live next to people who had hired him to do various jobs.”
“What about the one with the great dog?”
He laughed
“That is a good story, isn’t it? It’s a shame it doesn’t happen more often. She worked for a plumbing supply store where he did business.
“It had been the same in other cities. I’m sure eventually a department would have discovered the connection if he’d stayed in one place long enough. But the most killings he’d done in any one city was six. If the lady hadn’t been dog-sitting that night, he would have killed her and moved on from Minneapolis.”
Jen couldn’t recall any mention of either Sams or Edwards having used any tradesmen recently, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t.
“We’ll have to check out our vics again,” she said. “We don’t know of them having had a car repaired or work done on their homes, but it could be the people we interviewed didn’t think it was important. And we didn’t know the right questions to ask.”
They were approaching Larry Kaufmann’s street.
“Just because Wayne did it that way doesn’t mean Artie does—if it is Artie we’re looking for,” he added. “For one thing, I don’t remember the boy sharing his father’s skills at fixing things. It could be he makes his living some other way.”
“It’s a place to start. Oh, turn here,” she directed, as she saw the address they were looking for.
Will slowed and turned into a small apartment complex, stopping in front of the end building.
“This is it,” he said, peering at the number above the door.
Only if we’re incredibly lucky, she thought.
CHAPTER 8
The small two-bedroom apartment was a pigsty. Jen had seen plenty of filthy homes when she’d worked the street, and this one ranked right up there with the worst of them. The only saving grace was the aroma of marijuana that partially masked the odors of rotting garbage and dirty cat litter.
Karen Kaufmann sat in pregnant glory in the middle of the stained couch, wearing a blue cotton robe and dingy slippers. She looked ready to deliver at any time. She’d just finish
ed a TV dinner when Larry led them into the living room. She set the aluminum tray on the coffee table atop two dirty saucers, disturbing a roach that scurried from under the bottom plate and disappeared over the edge of the table. She started to get up as Larry introduced her.
“No, no, please don’t get up. You stay where you are, and stay comfortable.”
Jen waved her back down, and Karen settled back onto the couch, looking relieved. Besides, Jen thought, if you get up, we might have to shake your filthy hand.
“Thanks.” Karen waved her hand at the room. “Sorry about the mess. I just can’t seem to do as much as I used to.”
“We understand,” Jen said, thinking that carbon dating would likely show that quite a bit of the filth predated Karen’s pregnancy. Regardless, Larry Kaufmann didn’t have a big belly, but maybe he was one of those men who believed that housework was women’s work.
“What can we do for you people?”
The nervous tic under Larry’s right eye made it obvious he was praying that the litter box would out-stink the marijuana. He kept glancing around the room, probably trying to spot any drugs or paraphernalia that he might have left in plain sight. Jen could see that he was stoned and getting more paranoid by the minute.
Jen glanced at her watch.
“You work second shift, is that right, Mr. Kaufmann? I don’t want to hold you up if you were getting ready to go in.”
She hoped Kaufmann didn’t make it a habit to report to work stoned on a job requiring blowtorches.
“I’m off tonight.”
“Did you work last night?”
“No. I was off. Listen, what’s this about?”
Jen bowed her head for a moment and then looked up. Notifying someone of a tragedy was the least favorite part of her job.
“We have some bad news,” she said and told him.
Larry Kaufmann cried. He stared at them as the news sank in, then dropped to his knees in the middle of the worn carpet and bawled like a baby. His being stoned had something to do with it, Jen knew, but still the grief seemed genuine.
Karen struggled up from the couch and went to Larry. He clung to her, sobbing into her bulging belly. Jen felt tears stinging her eyes and looked away, focusing on two roaches chasing each other up the wall above the couch. Will was looking at his feet, studying the tips of his shoes with profound seriousness.
Finally Larry’s sobs subsided. He stood and helped Karen back to the couch before turning to them.
“I’m sorry, but I just wasn’t ready for that. There’s no mistake?”
“I’m afraid not,” Jen said.
“Who would do something like that?”
“I’ll be honest with you,” Jen said. “At this point, we have no idea. That’s why we wanted to talk to you. We don’t know much about Victoria’s life, who her friends were, her enemies, that sort of thing.”
“Do you think it was someone she knew?”
“We doubt it, but we have to check everything.”
“Wait…” Larry’s eyes grew wide. “Those other murders that have been in the news—was this the same guy?”
“Oh, God!” Karen’s face showed the fear that a lot of women in the area had been feeling, especially after the second killing. Murders weren’t an everyday thing in the city, but they weren’t unheard of either. The difference was most occurred as a result of a robbery gone wrong, a domestic disturbance, or a fight that got out of hand. Most did not involve young women getting their throats cut in their own beds.
“We don’t know yet,” Jen lied. “As I said, we need to check everything.”
Larry nodded and wiped his eyes with his hand.
“I suppose you want to know where I was, right?”
“I’m sorry we have to ask, but we do.”
“It’s okay. Me and Karen had some friends over last night. Jeff Smith and the girl he lives with, Kim Sizemore. They live over on Trenton Street. I don’t know the address, but I can give you their phone number.”
“How late did they stay?” Jen said, as she jotted the number on her notepad.
“They got here about seven, and we cooked out. Then we sat around and watched TV and talked, you know? I guess they left about two-thirty or three, right?”
He looked at Karen, who nodded.
“Were you both here after that?”
“Yeah, we went to bed right after they left.”
“Do you have any objections to Agent Anderson stepping outside and confirming your whereabouts with your friends?”
It didn’t matter if he had objections or not, but Jen wanted to see his reaction when he realized she wanted to talk to his friends before he had a chance to tell them what to say.
“No. No objections. Go ahead and call them.”
Jen could detect no trace of nervousness. She had no doubt he’d told them the truth and his friends would confirm that, but she nodded at Will. He took the piece of paper with the names and phone number of Larry Kaufmann’s alibi and stepped into the hall.
Jen noted Will was letting her run the show. After the way he’d been making notes at the crime scene, she’d expected him to try to take over. In fact, she had expected it just on the basis of his being a fed. She wouldn’t have let him do it, but she’d expected him to try. Maybe he did have more going for him than just looks and sex appeal.
“When was the last time you saw Victoria?”
“When we went for the divorce. That was about a month and a half ago. Vicki and me had some bad fights right after the split-up, but that was all over. Everything was cool between us.”
“Do you know who her friends were or what she had been doing with her time?
“Not for sure. Vicki’s best friend was always Sandy Norton from work. That’s the only friend I know about.”
“Do you know who she might have been dating?”
“Not really. It’s not the kind of thing you talk to your ex-old lady about, you know? I did see her with some dude about a month ago in a car over by Westgate Mall. It was a red Corvette—a new one, I remember that—and I think he had brown hair and a beard. Other than that, I can’t tell you much.”
Will came back into the room and nodded at Jen.
“Mr. Smith confirmed what Mr. Kaufmann told us.” He smiled a sympathetic smile at Larry. “I’m sorry we had to do that.”
“No worries, man.” Larry shrugged.
“What about the singles bars?” Jen said. “Was Vicki in the habit of going to them?”
“I’m not real sure,” Larry said. “She mentioned going to a couple of different clubs when we went for the divorce. I think she was trying to impress me with what a good time she was having without me. She used to go to a fitness club a lot when we were still together. I guess she still was.”
Jen and Will glanced at each other. Carla Edwards had been a member of a place called BodyFit Athletic Club. It was relatively new, having been open a little over a year. According to Carla’s friends, she had spent an inordinate amount of time there.
“Which club was it?”
“That BodyFit one that everyone raves about.”
“Anything else you can think of that might help us?”
“No.” Larry thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. I wish I could help you more. I really do.”
“Thanks for your time.” Jen handed Larry one of her cards. “If you think of anything else, please give us a call.”
Karen accompanied Larry as he walked them to the door. Jen tried unsuccessfully to read her face as they said their goodbyes. Was she secretly glad, Jen wondered, that her husband’s ex was out of the picture permanently? Or was she scared in the same way that a lot of women in the area would be when they saw the evening news and learned the killer had struck again. Scared that it might be them or someone close to them next time.
Next time. Jen shuddered and hoped to God there wouldn’t have to be a next time.
“So the last two victims belonged to the same spa,” Will said when they were back
in the car. “Maybe it’s the connection we need.”
“Maybe. But that club is hot right now. Probably half the women in the area are members. And as far as we know, Judy Sams wasn’t a member.”
“It probably wouldn’t hurt to double-check with her friends and family. It could be no one thought to mention it.”
“True. Unless you do an interview yourself, you can never be sure the right questions were asked.”
“In my experience, you can’t be sure of it even then.”
“Also true.” Jen made a note. “Okay, so we’ll make some calls about that.”
She glanced at her watch. It was three-thirty.
“I haven’t made arrangements for Brandon, or we could run by the spa now. Maybe I’ll go for an introductory visit this evening. It’ll give me a chance to look around, and I could use the exercise.”
The remainder of the drive back to the city was spent in companionable silence. That surprised her. On the one hand, the man’s presence caused her to lose her normal composure; on the other, she felt comfortable being with him. Maybe it’s a survival mechanism, she thought. She couldn’t exist long in the stimulated state caused by being near Will Anderson, so her body simply forced her to relax.
Or maybe, she thought, sneaking a glance at his handsome profile, I just like being around the man. In more ways than one. She hoped that wasn’t the case. There was too much danger involved in feeling like that.
In the police garage, Will turned to her.
“So what now?”
“We’ll see what the computer checks have turned up, and I’ll call to see how the Norton girl is doing. I also want to check on BodyFit’s hours. Then I’ve got to run home and feed Brandon. I’ve got a neighbor who watches him when I work late, so I should be able to come back down to the building this evening.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“I’ll leave that up to Lonnie. He’s in charge of the investigation.”