by Combs, Sasha
A peculiar undertone shaded his meaning. An unwritten suggestion, warning her to be careful. He was concerned about the press and how his department would fair if these murders continued to go unsolved. More to the point, Bunts didn’t want his detectives overstepping their boundaries. He also inferred the obvious. Two rich women had been killed, and the possibility was very high that some rich toes would get stepped on. There would be the ruffling of feathers, and pause buttons interrupting their splendid lives. In spite of that, the detectives couldn't make matters worse by mishandling the situation. Demonstrating the utmost charm had to be their motto. Kissing asses, while forcing a grin. She didn’t relish the idea but there was no mistaking the commanders hidden meaning. Linda restrained her annoyance when she said...
“I understand sir. We’ll treat this case with the same professional care that any other case in this department would receive. I won’t overstep my boundaries without notifying you first and even then, I’ll be sure to think twice before doing anything.”
She wondered if Bunts feared retribution or the possible threat of legal action against her if she questioned the wrong person. Frankly, that wasn’t a concern for her. She would do her job to the best of her ability, while following the letter of the law.
Linda heard a grunt not an actual word, then her commander added.
“I knew you would understand Detective Gables. You make sure to let me know if there is anything that I can do to help you or any of the detectives involved in solving these cases.”
Before she could respond, the call disconnected.
“What in the hell was that all about?” She spoke out loud because his weirdness had pricked the response from her. Linda’s cubical was far from the others but her partner was close enough to hers, to hear her outburst.
“What are you complaining about now Gables?” Stone said as a lark and obviously in a jovial mood. Detective Charles Stone had been assigned to work with Linda after she’d nearly gotten herself killed on her New Year’s Eve case. Stone was three years older than her. He was single, black, handsome; not to mention an eligible bachelor. Or at least that’s how the latest NY Woman’s Magazine had tagged him. He was pictured on page one hundred, twenty-two. All six feet, four inches of him. Laying across a chaise lounger in nothing more than a G-string. The photo was sinful enough, but the way he pointedly stared at the camera; the man was a danger to all women with heartbeats waiting to be broken. When he stood over her desk looking at her; she envisioned that same confident smile captured on the picture pinned up in the women’s locker room. It’s a wonder the man didn’t get fired from his job for being photographed practically nude but according to the rumor mills, his wiseass attorney brother outwitted the legal department by preempting a fallout before the magazine hit the stands. Linda wasn’t a gossip and she didn’t know all the specifics but as far as she knew, Stone never received a reprimand for posing half nude in the magazine.
She pinned her eyes, wearily on him.
“What do you want Stone?” She said; a remark she hoped would get him away from her desk.
“Don’t bark at me.” He said in defense. “I heard you talking so, I came to see what you were talking about. Hell, I thought you were talking to me.”
When Bunts had replaced the old commander, it had been his idea to pair partners by placing their workstations close to each other. Linda hated this idea for more than one reason. When Stone had been paired with her as her partner; being near him meant that every woman in the department would want to cross paths with him. She’d noticed the unwelcome traffic. Women in her area, just to sneak a peek at the sexy Charles Stone. Hell yes, he was a looker and everybody knew this. But, if she had her way, she could do without the daily added flow of female footfalls, accentuating the point.
Linda's face was blank, then she glowered, expressing her frustration. Charles was still hovering, waiting for a response.
“Go back to your workstation Stone. If I need you, I’ll call you by name. Now, get out of my face.”
Linda had learned a while ago; directness in this environment was rarely censured. Police officers were a different breed altogether. Most times using straightforward expressions was the only way to cut through the malarkey. Hard heads aren’t easily cracked.
Disregarding her partner, Linda looked at another line on her phone. It was blinking. Her heart fell then quickly rebounded. The call was coming from dispatch. A violent crime or another murder had been committed. She picked it up, saying her name in a rush...
“Detective Gables...”
“East Eighty-second and Madison. Homicide.” He said, before hastily relaying further information. Then the call ended without giving her a chance to digest the full affect of what she’d just heard. But this was her job. Abrupt, with no time to waste. This wasn’t a tea party. No thoughtful exchanges while sampling delicate petifores.
“Stone...” she hollered. “Let’s roll.”
That’s all it had taken. The handsome detective, grabbed his gun, then he was at her side, skirting around other cubicle workstations.
They walked into the open hallway, leading to a long bank of elevators. When the silver doors opened, they both stepped into the lift, taking them to the garage level. Linda was a control freak, and Stone got a rare thrill allowing her to believe that she dominated him. When their black midsize care screeched out, burning rubber in route to their next crime screen. Neither of them knew how this murder would link to the others. And at the time, they also didn’t know how much Hayford Mead’s insight would be invaluable to solving this crime.
*********************
Chapter 3
Linda stepped clear, crossing over a puddle of sticky blood. She tiptoed by the body, while carefully studying the blood pattern. Her eyes lowered and immediately she was thankful she’d pulled on the blue shoe covers to protect her high heels while preserving the crime scene. She watched as Stone talked to the neighbors; expertly picking their brains for any details that might help them. She moved throughout the apartment, noticing stray things. A goblet half filled with red wine. A Fabergé egg collection. A crystal teardrop chandelier. This address wasn’t a place that any Joe or Mary could afford. Upscaled rang in her head. Rich, wealthy. Terms she’d used, while dating Hayford. She recalled how she’d felt a week ago when she walked into the house of her last victim. The crimes and the manner of the deaths were eerily similar. Too close to discount, regardless of what the other detectives believed. She made her way, from room to room; looking for patterns or likenesses. Ways the murderer may have gained entry. Anything that may have been left behind. When she ended up back where she’d started; Stone was standing in the doors entrance, waiting to be told the estimated time of death. The medical examiner pulled a spiked thermometer free from the dead woman’s liver. Stone spread his legs assuming a male posture, his eyes now, studying Linda.
He spoke, causing the examiner to continue working.
“I’ve talked to everyone on this floor. She lived alone. Didn’t have much to do with her neighbors. Liked partying. Had a lot of money. The woman next door says that the apartment was once owned by her grandmother. She inherited the place after she graduated from college. She’s lived here for two years and in that time her neighbor hasn’t seen a steady stream of young men visitors. Unlike the other young lady down the hall, who sees no less than eight gentleman callers each week. As If that extra bit of information will be of any help to us.” Stone was being snarky, making fun of the older woman’s comment regarding her promiscuous young neighbor. After working with him, Linda had learned, that making snide comments was a coping mechanism for him. Every cop has a strange quirk that keeps them sane. She expected her partner to have a weird eccentricity and if he didn’t; terse solemnity would have unnerved her.
Stone’s eyes pierced her when he said...
“Same M.O. as the other victims. Rich with friends but not enough people around at the time of the murders. No one in the building who
might admit that they’d noticed a stalker.”
Stone skirted around the body to join her where she stood. He placed his notes on the table, inadvertently brushing her shoulder as he passed her. Charles watched as Linda stiffened, then drew back, clutching her hands. He recognized the reaction for what it was. The gruesome scene had frightened her, now her paranoia included him. He shouldn’t have cared, given what he knew about her. Linda internalized these scenes, committing every detail to memory. But he didn’t like the idea that in some way she was grouping him with this mess. He forced back his anger, then added....
“So far, our only tip comes from the doorman. He says that during his shift, he did see one person buzzed in that he’d never seen before. He gave a description that might help us draw a pretty good composite. He says the guy was Caucasian, perhaps of mixed race. Might not be our guy but at least it gives us a place to start and a person of interest to question.” His eyes bore firmly into hers. Charles didn’t like the idea that these murders were beginning to take their toll on Linda. As an expert profiler, he’d seen this in his profession. Cops attaching physical characteristics and criminal demeanor to people connected to their job. This wasn’t to far off base given the nature of their jobs. Who would be a better killer than a person whose job it is to legally kill? He was certain her mind was considering this. However true; paranoia is a condition Stone understands, but for now, he needs his partner to logically ground her mind.
Stone cleared his thoughts, then he regrouped by giving Linda his professional insight.
“Linda... This guy isn’t your garden variety killer. Think about it. The first murder was a call girl.”
“A rich party girl...” Linda clarified, then she said... “She came from a wealthy family, Stone. Just because she slept around, that doesn’t mean that she was a call girl.”
“Yeah... Party girl... Call girl... Prostitute... Whatever. It’s all the same. A woman who is willing to take money after she sleeps with a guy, even if she doesn’t need it... In my book, that’s a hooker.”
“They aren’t the same Stone and you know it. If you’re blinded by your own prejudices, you might miss something in this case and we can’t afford to do that. Emma Strauss was known for taking money from her male friends, but that was her choice. She didn’t need their money and we can’t prove that she was being paid for sex.”
“Linda... We found three bundles of cash in her loft. One roll was $5,000. The other two total $25,000. Prostitutes on the streets don’t make that kind of money...but call girls do.”
“Look... Just because wealthy men gave her money, that still doesn’t mean that she was a call girl. Her friends reported that, the men she dated were often married and they frequently showered her with gifts.”
Charles grunted. In his mind, sex for sell wasn’t separated by two sets of rules. Linda continued.
“Furthermore...don’t you recall the reason her murder was grouped with Mia Price-Cortland’s murder?”
“Her family is rich Linda. They squawked when they didn’t think her murder was getting enough attention.”
“That isn’t wholly true Stone. Both murders were brutal.” Linda looked away from him. She scanned the area, taking in the dead woman’s opulent taste. She frowned when she said...
“But... You know Stone. You are right about one thing. The first victim...Emma Strauss... Her family’s connections is the primary reason we’re investigating her murder.”
“I know I’m right.” He said using a superior tone, but Linda swiftly deflated his male ego.
“And wealth is the one common thing that links these women. Even her.” Linda pointed to the dead woman, being turned to lay on her back, while the examiners assistant photographed the stab wounds.
“Linda...” Stone said, drawing out her name. “If you’re referring to your one killer theory... You're barking up the wrong tree.”
“Yeah... You may be right but my gut tells me that these women were all killed by the same person...and money is at the root of these murders.”
“But, what about the money found in Emma Strauss's apartment? That kind of loose cash laying around wreaks of illegal activity. From where I’m standing, that debunks your one killer theory because we haven’t found loads of cash here and we didn’t find anything like that at Mia’s place”
“Stone, please... Just for a minute; stop thinking about the prostitution angle.”
“But I can’t. I’m telling you... That girl was selling her Mojo to earn money and the person responsible for killing her didn’t murder Mia or this victim.”
Linda muffled a laugh, thinking about Stone’s terminology. Mojo. Of all the people Bunts could have partnered her with, she had to end up with a hunk who bore male chauvinistic tendencies. She cleared her throat, then said...
“Okay... If you want to play the devils advocate... We'll say that Emma Strauss was a call girl but she also came from a very wealthy family. The fact that she snubbed them, in exchange for...” Her eyes closed, in searching. Linda was at a lost for words, but obviously Stone wasn’t.
“Prostitution. She snubbed her family to sell her body to the highest bidder.”
Linda shook off his words, while saying...
“Okay, okay but that still doesn’t matter. Men gave her money. But, she also had access to her family’s wealth. Emma lived a life of privilege and her friends didn’t shun her. She never lost their respect or their loyalty. She was well liked Stone. Whatever she did in her free time didn’t take away from who she was. It didn’t affect her status. She maintained her privileges because of her name. Strauss... That was her get out of shit card. Nothing touched her. Even if she played in the dirt...it didn’t cling to her. Money, Stone. Old family money can do that. Her transgressions were and would always be forgiven. That alone sets her apart and it groups her with the other rich women that were killed.”
“All right. You’ve convinced me.” Stone agreed. He looked around the apartment when he said...
“Linda... Do you know what that means? Our perp has to be just as rich as his victims. When he kills, he gets up close and personal. Also, look at this place. The nicknacks alone are worth more than what most people earn in a week. And what about Strauss.... All that cash laying around in her apartment. Linda....this killer wasn't looking to steal from these women. His only motivation appears to have been to take their lives.”
Linda scanned the room again, seeing all that she’d seen earlier. So much blood. There was so much blood. How much was in the human body? She thought. The room looked like the victim had been drained. She closed her eyes, recalling the thief angle mentioned by Stone. To the best of their knowledge, nothing had been taken from any of the victims. But that wasn't what she’d meant when she'd shared her thoughts with her partner. Three women were dead, and she knew their wealth figured into the puzzle in one way or another. But there was something else about these murders that eluded her. A strange component that was just beyond her reach.
Linda backed away. She wiped her gloved hands on her skirt; not wanting the touch of the place to smear any part of her. She said...
“Be certain that the techs thoroughly photograph and film this entire apartment. If this scene is anything like the others....”
Linda peered around the place. Her eyes landed on the expensive furnishings. As she scanned the room; she tried to get inside of the killers head. These murders had a link but she couldn’t find the common denominator. Being rich, and living in an affluent neighborhood couldn’t be the only key. There had to be something more but for the life of her; Linda couldn’t get pass this commonality.
“Should I call Bunts?” Charles had said, breaking into Linda’s trance. The detective was eyeing her worriedly. He didn’t like the way the room seemed to overtake her senses. Linda willed her eyes to drift away from the blood drained woman, when she said...
“Sure... Call Bunts. Tell the commander that this crime scene looks like the others. I’m sure of it Stone. All t
hree of these murders were committed by one person.”
She hated to admit this, but the city was infested with a blood thirsty sick mind. A killer lacking the morals of decent society. Seemingly out of nowhere, three women had been filleted like fish at a sushi bar. At each murder scene, the victims appeared to be far worse off than the last. When Linda had been named lead investigator, she’d approached the cases as if they were a personal attack on her and her partner didn’t fully understand. Charles didn’t know about the battle that waged in her head. Her popularity teetered in the balances everyday and now she’d added her romantic relationship to the scales. Her plate was full and the last thing she needed was Stone, wearily gauging her every notion or move.
Linda rode down to the lobby area alone. She relished the quiet in the elevators when the doors closed. In the apartment, on each level there were only four tenants. That made securing the building and questioning the tenants all the easier. When she stepped out into the lobby, again, she noticed quiet. She supposed the residents in the ritzy apartment didn’t care much for the racket and they didn’t like the idea that a crime had been committed in their building.
As she stepped outdoors, her eyes lifted skyward. She couldn’t get Stone’s words out of her head. Each murder scene showed no signs of thief. This thought was followed by flashing images. The victims and their injuries. Gruesome and bloody. Methodical. A thought sprang in her head. For so much damage to have been done, the murders had somehow been planned. Still...no one on the task force had been able to offer up any explanations. Each place, where a body had been found; the home or apartment was secured by alarms, house staff or a secured entrance. Emma Strauss was found dead in her car parked right in front of her brownstone. Even after watching video surveillance tapes; no one noticed the same person showing up at each site. At one point, when the word serial killer had first been mentioned; the idea had been tossed aside because they couldn’t find any connections and there'd only been two victims. She wondered what they would say, now that there was a third victim to deal with. More so, she worried for her own sanity. She couldn’t get the images out of her head. The dead woman’s blood splattered all over the walls and floor, while she and Stone stood to the side, debating murder triggers. She wondered at what point had her emotions been muted. The scene was to horrible to remember, but she had to. Doing so was her job. When Bunts assigned her to head the team, the commander chose Linda because he’d wanted a fresh pair of eyes and a new way of doing things. But so far, Linda could only see blood and nothing more. She wondered if perhaps Hayford had been right. He’d offered her the opportunity of a life time. A chance to work at his uncles law office while waiting to take the Bar exam.