by Kira Reese
The particular alley was the first one after a large warehouse still used for storing railroad items. A large semi was backed up to the back of it and the burly truck driver loaded railroad ties with his helper. The structure on the other side of it shadowed the alley. A woman huddled against the dirty wall. Her bare feet stuck out from under two layers of dresses and into the sunlight. She looked at me with defiant yet dull grey eyes. Pulling her small shopping cart to her, she eyed me suspiciously.
“What do you want? This is my spot.” Her voice cracked with unused practice.
“I don’t want your place. I am here to look at where a body was recently found. Are you the one who found her?”
Her eyes darted around. She nodded her head and then her eyes fixated on me once again.
“Do you know who she was?” I asked. She shook her head. “Had you ever seen her down here before?” Again her head vibrated in the negative. “How long have you lived in this alley?”
She glared at me. “What’s it to you? The police have already drilled me with questions.”
My understanding was they had not found this woman yet, but I let that pass.
“I want to know what happened to her and why she was down here to begin with. She didn’t live anywhere near here.”
The figure relaxed somewhat but kept her guard up. “I could tell that from her clothes. She didn’t get them out of a garbage can. She looked like a baby all curled up like she was.” She shuddered. “So much blood.” Her voice was almost inaudible.
I failed to ask Ben for photos of the body. I made a mental note to do that when I returned to my office.
“What is your name?” I asked. “Mine is Candy.”
“Lillian.”
I handed her one of my cards and gave her a five-dollar bill. “Contact me if you think of anything else,” I said. For the first time since meeting Lillian, her mouth curved and displayed crooked teeth. Two were missing to the right of her top front ones.
“I may remember some things,” she said.
I turned back to her. “What things?” I asked.
“I know a man is around here when someone dies. Only when someone dies,” she said. Her voice switched to sing-song. “He shows up just before someone dies.”
“What does he look like?”
“He hides under a hood.” Gaps in her mouth opened wide and the grin spread. “He is very tall. Skinny man. Anyone could break him in two. Just break him in two pieces.”
“Can you recall anything else about him?”
She opened a gnarly hand and I deposited another five. “He stinks worse than I do, worse than anyone around here I know of.” When I asked her what the smell was like, she said, “He smells like metal on heavy machinery. Metal smell, can’t miss that.”
When I knew she had nothing more to give me, I pointed to my card in her hand and reminded her to call me if she thought of anything else. I had no idea if Lillian could access a phone anywhere around here or not, but there was always that hope.
The man Lillian described told me he, at least, had access to drugs. Janet could have been dating someone on drugs, and this man could be the dealer.
I called Jon Dubois. “Do you know if your sister dated anyone in particular?”
“She told me once that she preferred going out in groups. It was more fun, she said.”
Telling him thanks, I ended the call.
Chapter 5
Acquaintances
It was almost time to meet Jim Bosley. I missed his morning break, but he should be free again around two, according to Benny Lodge. I walked through the front part of the diner and caught Benny’s eye. He came forward and told me Jim was outside the kitchen, smoking. He took me to see him and introduced me. Jim’s eyes didn’t flicker, which told me Benny had prepared him for my visit.
The man looked to be in his thirties even though dark brown hair receded somewhat at the forehead. His ebony skin was ridged in places. I surmised that this man had done manual labor his whole life. He stood approximately five feet six, if he stood up straight. As it was, shoulders stooped slightly. Benny left us alone.
“I understand you were the last person at the diner to see Janet the night she was murdered.”
His face twisted and he bowed his head. “I should have stayed and walked her to her car,” he said.
“It was not your fault she died,” I said. “She may have made it to her car and someone attacked her later.” He glanced quickly at me as if that premise never entered his head. “What can you tell me about people she knew?”
“She knew all of us here. She and Sheila McIntyre hung out together sometimes. They got along well. Some of the customers were friends. At least, they were friendly toward her here.”
“When Janet mentioned she felt someone had followed her, did you have any idea who that could have been?”
“No, none of us knew who she spoke of. One time I thought it could have been a man who came in here a couple of weeks before she died. It was the next day she told Sheila her fears about someone following her. I immediately thought of the man. He didn’t fit in as our usual customer.”
I asked Jim to describe the man. He fit the description of the man Lillian depicted. I drilled Jim more. “Did he ever come back in?”
“I’m usually in the back and saw him only once when I brought clean glasses out for the servers. You can ask Sheila. She and Janet worked the same shifts most of the time. Sheila may have seen him in here again.”
I told him thanks for his time. He crushed the cigarette and opened the door for me. I asked Benny if I could speak with Sheila. When she joined me in Benny’s office, she pulled a loose strand of blond hair and inserted it back into her ponytail. Her chunky frame, though not obese, moved easily. A pale round face displayed green eyes that darted from me to her lap and back a couple of times. Faint freckles splotched her face and arms. She appeared to be in her early twenties.
“I want to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind,” I said. She nodded her head. “I want to know who Janet associated with outside work.”
Sheila told me she knew of a few friends, mainly young women they attended college classes with. “We meet after classes sometimes for coffee or drinks in the evening.”
I learned that Sheila took night classes, as did Janet. Her field was in education. She hoped to be a primary grade teacher someday. I asked her if they had any classes together. She told me no but they got out of class at the same time. They were there on Tuesdays and Thursdays from seven until ten.
“Sometimes our teachers let us out early. When that happened, we usually waited for the other. That was the most we socialized together, except for an occasional movie. That didn’t happen often. Janet was into horseback riding and couldn’t get enough of it. She was the nicest person I ever met.” Sheila dabbed at her eyes with a stocky fist. I handed her the Kleenex box from the desk. “I can’t believe anyone would want to take her life. It is so terrible I can hardly sleep at night.”
“Have you ever met her brother?” I asked.
Her eyes grew wider. “I didn’t know Janet had a brother.”
“He is a fisherman in Alaska and doesn’t come back often. When he does, he stays for a week or so and then goes back. I suppose you would not have met him.”
It hit me as strange that Janet never mentioned her brother. Benny and Marian told me they did not know she had a brother, either. I was beginning to get the impression that Janet Dubois was a very private person. Meg Hagen told me she preferred riding alone. No one knew of any particular friends other than acquaintances.
“I’m sure you have to get back to work,” I said. “I just have one more question for now.”
“Benny told me to take my time and allow you to ask whatever you wanted. There aren’t many customers here this time of day.”
Even a few customers would be leaving tips, I thought. “I have been told that Janet mentioned to you that she felt she was being followed. Did she tell you who it w
as?”
Sheila bowed her head and shook it in frustration. “I wish I had asked her more. She just told me when she left work, she felt someone’s eyes on her. When she turned to look around she did not see anyone. I didn’t take it too seriously, because she said it must’ve been her imagination. Now I recall she was a little jumpy after that. I should have paid more attention.” Her eyes matched the look on Jim’s face when he expressed an “if only.”
“Did you ever have a customer who looked a little out of place?”
Sheila sniffed and her eyes opened wide. “There was one man who came in. He had never been here before. Sort of tall and scraggly looking. Janet and I argued over who would serve him. The odor that came from him was something else.”
When I asked if he came in more than once, Sheila shook her head. “I never saw him in here again, but he may have come in on my day off.” She hesitated. “Now that you mention it, there was another man who came in. Janet looked scared and asked me if I would wait on him. I asked her why and she just brushed me off. I went ahead and took his order. He didn’t say anything to her at all, and I forgot about it until now.”
I made a mental note of the two unknown men. “Was Janet dating anyone?”
“She did not date anyone I knew of. At least, she never mentioned anyone. She kept her personal life very private. Benny arranged for someone to walk with her to her car at closing time, you know. That night Jim told me she told him to go on home and that she was fine.” I handed her another tissue. “I’m sorry. All I can think of is she is gone forever.”
“Thank you for your time, Sheila. I know this has not been easy on you. If you think of anything else, please call me.” I handed her one of my cards.
I sat down in the diner and ordered a crab salad with crackers and a glass of iced tea. “If you have raspberry, I’ll take that.” The server named Annie smiled and said she would get it right out. I noticed only her first name was on her name tag. When Annie returned with my tea, I asked her if she wore her uniform to and from work or if she changed into regular clothes when she left the café.
“I wear it to and from home. It is easier to do that, unless I have plans after work. In that case, I bring a change.”
“Do you take your name tag off when you leave here?”
“All of us do that. Benny said he doesn’t mind if we stop for errands on the way home in our uniforms, but, for some reason, he tells us to take our name tags off before we go into stores.” She smiled. “It is just one of his ways, I guess.”
I smiled back and took a sip of the raspberry tea. Annie left to wait on another customer. That explained why there had been no name tag on Janet. Did she stop someplace before heading for home? Once her car was found, the answer may be there.
Chapter 6
The Apartment
I looked forward to Friday. It had been a long week for all of us. I sat at my desk having arrived at work a half hour earlier than usual. My cell phone rang. The caller ID told me the detective was on the line.
“Candy, another body has been found in the same alley where Janet Dubois was found. This time it is a young lady from a very wealthy area, far from the lower east side.”
Ben Jones continued to tell me her body was in the same position as Janet’s.
“Who discovered the body?” I asked.
“The call came from the grocer at the store nearby. The owner told me it was the same homeless lady who reported to him. I mean the one who discovered Janet Dubois. The cops in the area said the only person they knew who stayed in that alley was a woman named Lillian. We are trying to track her down to see if she saw anything. She is quite elusive.”
I bit my tongue. It was time to tell Ben of my conversation with Lillian. I told him about the man she described as appearing just before a murder in the area. I gave details of the man to Ben.
“I just met her a day or so ago. She did not know who he was,” I said. “I felt she held back.”
A long pause ensued. I knew Ben wanted to ask why I didn’t give him this information right away, but he knew I did not always tell him everything I knew until I felt it was the right moment. Now was that time.
“Where can we find Lillian?’ he asked.
“I found her sitting in that same alley. Other than that, I have no idea where she could be.”
“By the way, I just faxed you the coroner’s report on Janet Dubois. It should be there by the time you get to the office.”
I asked him for photos of the body when he got a minute. I let him know I was already in the office. I went to the fax machine and pulled the report. When I read the cause of death, I told him I would get back to him. I read it carefully twice and laid it on the corner of Evelyn’s desk and took a deep breath. Cause of death was heroin overdose and multiple stabbings.
I plopped down in Evelyn’s chair and read it again.
“What are you doing here so early?” asked Natalie. I noticed a romance novel tucked under her arm. She grinned at me. “I’ve been sitting out there in the parking lot catching up on this novel. Candy, you should get into romance novels. This one has me glued to it.”
I had to laugh at her. I reminded her that she would not have time to read any more of it. Natalie had several lighter cases on her desk to complete.
“I know I won’t. I just like to take Faith along with me so she won’t think I’ve forgotten her dilemma. What’s new?”
I pushed the autopsy report toward her. “Not only was Janet Dubois found dead in a seedy alley, but as of this morning there has been another body discovered in the same spot.”
I told Natalie about the young woman found. “Ben told me she was from a wealthy area. The irony is that she was left in the same position as Janet Dubois, curled up. He said the cop who was at the site said there were many stab wounds. You will see in the Dubois report that Janet was also stabbed.”
“And she was on drugs, I see,” said Natalie.
“That is puzzling. Everyone I talked to has told me there were never signs she was taking drugs. I am not ready to believe she had the habit. I believe someone injected her against her will, but there’s no proof yet.”
“Good morning, you two,” said Evelyn.
Her trim figure conveyed a sense of purpose as she took short quick strides into her office. I stood up and stepped aside so she could deposit her purse in the lower drawer. She pulled a key ring from her pocket and locked the drawer. Each of us had a secure place in our offices to deposit anything of value to us. I filled Evelyn in on the morning’s findings and included causes of Janet’s death from the report. We discussed the similar deaths of two women, one in her twenties and one in her teens.
“I don’t see how two women of that caliber found themselves down in that awful area,” said Evelyn.
“They were probably taken there and positioned to make a statement of some kind,” said Natalie. I agreed with her assessment.
“Janet’s Ford Focus has not been located yet. I believe the person who killed her hijacked her car with her in it and kept it until the deed was done. The car could be in the Atlantic ocean by now, or in some chop shop.”
We talked of the deaths for a few minutes longer until we returned to waiting work. Natalie poured herself a cup of coffee, and I left Evelyn dipping an herbal tea bag in a hot cup of water. I poured a diet coke into a glass of ice and sat at my desk.
I opened my computer to the local news. A short excerpt included scant details of Nancy Perkins death in an alley in the lower east end of New York. The parents of the seventeen-year-old were a well-known family in the oil business. The Perkins family resided in the Cobblehill area of New York, according to the article. Janet Dubois was not wealthy, though made her way successfully enough in my eyes. On the other hand, Nancy Perkins enjoyed wealth beyond my imagination.
Natalie knocked on my door. “I just thought of something. I read the headline on Nancy Perkins. I wonder what the connection between Nancy and Janet could be.”
I
discussed the same dilemma with Natalie. “The fact they were found in the same position only tells us that probably the same person murdered both of them. Maybe the two women had nothing in common other than the same murderer.”
Natalie nodded, and after she left my office I returned to the file on Janet. I read everything known to me about her. Ben sent photos of the body and I had a better idea of how she was found. I needed to get into her apartment next. When her brother answered his phone he stated he was at home and I could come whenever was convenient. I decided now was convenient.
Janet Dubois’s apartment was in a well-kept, lower-middle-class neighborhood. One full block held apartment buildings no taller than three floors plus clusters of duplexes. I reached her building and Jon greeted me. The apartment was on the first floor to the right of three steps down. Thick ecru carpet opened to the living room. That room continued into a small dining area with hardwood flooring. The small kitchen separated by a half wall had up-to-date appliances and speckled stone countertops. The landlord provided comfortable apartments if all of them looked like this one.
“Is there a computer here that Janet used?” I asked.
“The cops confiscated it when they were here,” said Jon. “I have not looked in her desk drawer or cabinets where she may have kept some personal stuff. The cops looked through everything, though.”
I asked to do the same and he showed me to her bedroom. The bed was made up and covered with a light tan coverlet. A white sheet was pulled over it and tucked just under the large throw pillows of tan and neon green. Another pillow on the corner glider was the same green with a varied floral design. I went to her nightstand and pulled the drawer open. A bottle of aspirin was there, along with a pen and a pad of unused paper. Underneath the items were magazines that had to do with hospitality and travel. I went to the other side of her bed and opened the drawer of the matching nightstand. Cosmetics such as hand creams, a face mask, and a variety of nail polish were scattered in no particular order. If cops had rummaged through the drawers, it was probably their doing so that left them in disorder. I moved to her walk-in closet. I pulled every box down and looked through them. At the bottom of one and underneath school assignments I found a thin diary.