The Cult of the White Owl

by Barbara Lefka

  “The maid was in place, she was not moved, what killed her?”

  “Jake, she was killed by carbon monoxide poison. A very large dose and fast. So fast that her right lung burst in her chest causing a significant bleed. I have sent my team back to that house, to try to detect the where, how and when? We should have results soon.”

  “I am going to the house again, after all a murder was committed there and I want to get a feel for the crime. No one has investigated the property thoroughly. That house where Natalie bought it is our only definite crime scene. I would have had it over run with your men Doc if I had some time to breath. The murders were coming hot and heavy. Now I want to see the crime scene myself with Wilson here. I will keep in touch Smith. Let’s go Tom!”

  “Before you rush off there is something else you need to know, one of my senior student’s by the name of Stewart noticed, while I was doing the autopsy on Caterina, very bright boy, a small greenish bruise under her arm a puncture wound very hard to detect or see. On further examination both Caterina and Daphne had the same wound. But not Natalie, no puncture wounds on her body,”

  “They did not move her, she remained in place, That’s why.” Jake deduced.

  He tried to wait patiently for Dr. Smith’s narrative to end, he wanted to get to Natalie’s and see what he could further discover, so he nearly missed, The Devil’s Breath.

  “What, could you repeat that please?” Jake asked.

  “Scopolamine or The Devil’s Breath, a very deadly drug in the world.

  The drug is made from the Borrachero tree which blooms with deceptively beautiful white and yellow blossoms and is common in the forests of Columbia. It makes the victim euphoric and paralyzes free will and movement. They are ridged in their extremities but happy in the extreme. That is why our victims looked so joyful. They had no idea they were dying of carbon monoxide gas. Scopolamine had completely rendered them a willing victim.” Dr. Smith concluded.

  “How long does the drug take to act?” Jake enquired now fully engaged.

  “Within minuets and they are completely under its spell or the control of the perpetrator, or both as the case may be.” Dr. Smith turned away and started covering over the mutilated bodies of the once gorgeous women.

  “Is there a remedy?” Jake wanted to know.

  “No, no remedy but unless another agent is introduced for instance the carbon monoxide, Scopolamine in small doses will not kill.” Dr. Smith turned out the neon lights over the dead bodies and walked out of that ice cold morgue with Jake and his detective.

  “How about in large doses, will it kill then?”

  “Yes, any potent drug of that caliber will kill. The drug may not even be necessary, unless they used it to render the victim susceptible to manipulation, hence the tableau. Then killed them with the carbon monoxide where they were placed in the death scene.

  “Is the Devil’s Breath available to the public? Is it accessible?”

  “It is available but not easily. It is used mostly in surgical procedures.”

  “Good night, thank you for your good work, more complications introduced.”

  Jake pushed Tom toward the car and followed him into its interior.

  “Let’s get to South Philly and the Natalie house.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Jake entered the dark house of Natalie Ivanova it was as still as a grave.

  Wilson went from room to room lighting up the house. But the murder of the girl dominated a chill that seemed to permeate the rooms and even the brightness of the lights could not dispel the horror of the crime committed there. Jake walked up the dark mahogany staircase, ignoring the full length mirror on the landing, to the master bedroom on the second floor. He wanted to search more carefully now that he knew how she was killed. He entered the room and noticed a trampled white rose on the bare wooden floor, he bent and picked it up. Jake looked down at the blossom in his hand and thought, so beautiful and so lifeless.

  He walked over to the fireplace to discard the blossom when he realized the fireplace was gas burning with fake wooden logs. He looked for the pilot light, it was flaming blue. There was no danger of any explosion or gas leak since he heard the hiss of gas coming from the feeder coil. The ‘on’ switch was close to the pilot light, so it only took a second to turn on, “WHOOSH” went the fire as it roared into life.

  Wilson came into the room, “Everything okay here Chief!”

  “Yeah just dandy! I would like you to make note of the layout of this room and go upstairs and downstairs checking whether or not there are fireplaces that coincide with this one geographically. Got that.”

  “Got it Chief, on my way!” He left.

  Jake went over to the bed where the woman was first discovered, it was rumpled as though it had been occupied. He threw back the covers and studied the sheets. There were small signs on the otherwise clean sheets, that someone had sex. Semen was prevalent as were chips of chocolate ground into the bedcovers.

  “A party, but no glasses of bubbly nearby. No empty box of chocolates either. I’ll check the kitchen and get a more precise report from forensics. Focus on the room. What else? Where are her clothes? Hmmmm! She called in sick for two days, so one of those days she was still alive eating chocolate and having sex. Maybe drinking?”

  Jake moved toward her closet and walked in, searching for a light switch. He flicked on the switch and was set aback by her wardrobe. Designer clothes, shoes, and furs as spectacular as her employers. “Where did she purchase them?” Most of the tags said Wanamaker’s some Bonwit’s. Wow! A bloody fortune here. Jewelry? Everything was in order, but no jewelry.

  Jake left the closet and went into the bathroom, noting her bathrobe hanging behind the door. Jake removed the robe from the hook and studied the garment inside and out. He removed a plastic garbage bag from the trash receptacle and stuffed the robe into it. He then went to the medicine chest and tried to concentrate on what he was seeing but his eyes kept straying toward the shower stall, because of the soap drips on the shower glass. “Funny,” he thought, “in a house so neat and non possessed by the owner, that the bed was left rumpled and stained and the shower stall had the residue of washed bodies.” That bothered him. Closing the medicine chest, he opened the door to the shower and bent down to remove the drain, where a well of water and soap had accumulated around the black hair straight as a poker and curly blond hair like the victim. This proves she was not alone in her last two days of life, to much hair for a few hours,” Jake mused. He threw the hair, hairbrushes and dumped the contents of the medicine chest into the garbage bag for forensics. He left it to them to separate the items in order of their importance to the investigation. Jake left the bathroom with the plastic bag under his arm and returned to the bedroom to turn off the blaze in the fireplace; he stripped the bed of its sheets, pillow cases and bedspread all of which he stuffed into the plastic bag. Semen was as good as blood for identification Jake knew, so was hair. He went downstairs to the kitchen to consult with Tom Wilson.

  Jake opened the fridge while he waited for his detective and counted champagne bottles, and little else. The dish washer revealed two champagne glasses, the party was a fact. The kitchen trash had been emptied either by forensics or the killer, the basket was empty.

  It was obvious to Jake that Natalia was dead before the murderer cleaned up after the party. “He should have washed the sheets, while he was about it. A man’s semen is just like a blood trail, which the doctors in forensics can follow like a road map.

  “Chief,” Wilson called entering the kitchen, “the fireplaces on the first and second floor are connected along with the furnace in the basement to a central core, which I think is against code. But that said, it was cake to block the line wherever, and turn on the gas. She would be gone in twenty minutes, without ever realizing what happened. All her killer would have to do after he set it up, was leave the house, no trace, no w
itnesses!” Tom actually admired the neatness of the killing, the efficiency.

  “Chief, down in the basement, along side the furnace there were some photos and papers on the floor. It looked as though they fell out of the trash can that was to be burned. The can was still there as well. The papers were nondescript, just scraps of paper but these were in one piece and interesting.” He handed over the photos.

  “Damn, this is a photo of the same man that we retrieved from Caterina’s lingerie drawer. I am not surprised, they apparently all knew each other in Russia. However, this is a newer photo he looks older, more recent and this must be a younger Natalia perhaps a 10-year difference with a baby in her arms, their baby? This is most interesting. They are just snapshots developed in drug stores, not studio prints but she held on to them for a long time so they were precious to her. I sure would like to get my hands on this guy. Tell you what, let’s put out an all points bulletin. Just to see if the fish falls into the net.”

  “Okay, but what is the charge?”

  “Person of interest, to our investigation. Let’s get going, I want Dr. Smith to go over what we found here. I wonder what his team came up with, from where I’m standing, Zero!”

  When they arrived at the precinct they had a surprising visitor waiting for them outside Jake’s office.

  “Tony McCane, how nice of you to join us here at headquarters. Won’t you come in and have a seat.”

  Jake nodded to Annie who asked silently if coffee was needed, “Coffee Mr. McCane? Yes, coffee for two Annie, Wilson needs to take notes, if that’s alright with you Mr. McCane? “

  “Call me Tony please,” reaching over to shake Jake’s hand, “I came in because of the coincidence that seems to have occurred. The murders of Daphne Carter and Caterina Woods took place where I was set up with a film crew. I want you to know, right off the bat, I had nothing to do with any murder business. I knew the ladies professionally but on a very casual basis. My breath was taken away when I learned where they died.” Tony looked at Jake straight in the eye.

  “Were the locations where you filmed public knowledge?” Jake wondered.

  “Not really public knowledge. I mean we don’t advertise or anything like that. The models all know, the film crew and sometimes the caterers if food is being provided, but other than that, word gets around, It isn’t a secret operation. Also cameras and lights attract crowds, rubberneckers. People who have zero to do and want to know what’s going on. Besides Chief, I had no camera crews at Wanamaker’s, just a small staff picking out wardrobes for the models plus a skeleton lighting crew to see how the garments on the manikins change color in bright light. Mr. Edwards was against us filming in the store for some reason. He has encouraged us to photograph in the store on other occasions, but not this time, so we were filming in the studio. Detective Burns came by and saw us.” Tony was composed but Jake was puzzled by the rush of wordy explanations pouring out of his mouth.

  “Something is not right!” Jake thought but did not interrupt the onslaught. “For craps sake, we haven’t even gotten to George’s Hill.”

  “I wonder,” Jake asked, “how you or your crew never noticed what was going on under the willow tree. You, I mean all of you, were filming all around George’s Hill.”

  “I can tell you for a fact that while we were filming, there was no one under that tree.” Tony crossed his arms, for emphasis.

  “Why so positive?” Jake asked

  “I walked up the hill myself looking for the best light advantage for the shoot, believe me nothing or no one was under that tree!”

  “Did it rain while you were filming.”

  “A steady drizzle, but not enough to cancel the filming. The rain eventually stopped, the grass and some scenery we brought with us got wet, but we were dry. The models, manikins, and clothes stayed dry under the tents.” Tony took a long drink from the coffee Annie brought for the men, very cooperative, waiting for the next question.

  “At the George’s Hill location, what time did you start shooting your commercial?” Jake took a sip from his coffee, made a face and put the cup down. cold!

  “We got there early in the morning to set up the equipment and scenery. We enhance the natural scenery with more flowers and props. The models start arriving about eight in the morning to get made up and styled. We start shooting about nine, nine fifteen.”

  “What time did you say you arrived?” Jake questioned

  “It was early I would say around 6 or 7 in the AM.”

  “Why so early, is that usual?” Jake asked leaning forward.

  “I wouldn’t say usual we shoot at different times depending on the commercial or tale we are telling, you know the script, and how long it takes us to set up.”

  “About what time did you breakdown and leave and did you all leave together?” Jake continued to probe.

  “We left in drips and drabs, camera crew usually leaves first, but really there is no order. When the shoot is finished everyone is off the clock so they basically leave when they want to, because of the excitement with the police and all everyone left slowly. Actually we were just dispersing when your officers arrived and started swarming up the hill. We were packed up and about gone.” Before Jake could repeat his question, McCane continued, “About eleven o’clock I would say give or take.”

  “Did you make anymore forays up George’s Hill, or notice any activity going on?”

  Jake was patient, gathering as many facts as possible.

  “No sir, my attention was riveted on my production and the models, never mind the weather.”

  “I would like to see the film you shot in the park. All the film. Stills and movies, if you filmed movies.”

  “We did both. If you will come to the studio I will screen everything for you, I feel badly for the victims.” McCane stood and stretched out his hand. “Anything I can do.”

  Jake shook his hand and walked him to his office door saying Annie would call and set up a date to view the film. He dismissed Tom to type up his notes with a motion of his head. He felt the film was a key, something or someone might have been seen or noticed, during the shoot. Did Tony have ulterior motives?

  “One more question,” Tony stopped and turned, “Did you take any pictures in Wanamaker, by any chance?”

  “No, it was strictly gathering merchandise checking sizes on our manikins.”

  Jake waved good-bye and sat down at his desk and picked up the telephone and called Dr. Smith at the police morgue.

  “Dr. Smith, yeah hi! Are the clothes that were on our two victims in your possession? You do have the clothes? The two white dresses and the shoes? They were wearing underwear but no stockings, you say? Did you find that odd? Everything was new. How do you know that? The tags were new on the panties and bras I see. Expensive stuff? Put it all on the side for me, I want to go over every piece. By the way did you analyze the blood speck on Caterina Woods shoe? Yes, but unidentifiable so far, not Caterina’s blood got that. Wait for me I am coming down, yeah soon.”

  “May I come in Chief?” A contrite Detective Burns asked as he walked in front of the desk, papers in hand. “I am sorry.”

  “Okay, did you get the report done?” Jake asked in a no nonsense tone.

  “Yes sir. I wrote down everything I saw, heard and witnessed. I am at your disposal sir, if I can be of further help.” Burnsey asked stiltedly.

  “Fine, sit down and let’s go over this report. You might have noticed Tony McCane leaving my office,” Burnsey nodded. “He came in to say how shocked he was that the murders took place where he was shooting his commercials.”

  Do you believe him or do you think he is covering his tracks?”

  “At this point I don’t know what to believe. It is a significant coincidence.

  Most of the models at the studio had all good things to say about Tony when I casually questioned them except for two young lad
ies who were trying really hard to blend into the woodwork.” Burnsey lowered his head, “I felt it was, if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all, kind of behavior.”

  “Did you get their names?”

  “I knew you were going to ask me that question, that is why I hesitated to bring up the incident. I did not question the whole crew, just random people. No, I did not get their names.” Burnsey admitted reluctantly.

  “That gives me a good idea. Let’s bring in the models and the camera men and whoever else was at both murder sites, make-up people, hair stylist. While the girls are here maybe you can identify the supposed naysayers you saw at Tony’s studio? Yes?” Jake did not expect an answer from Burnsey, but he was nodding his head in agreement as he started to leave the office.

  “Get right on it Burnsey and ask your side kick Johnny to help as well, he seems willing and is doing a good job and whoever else you may need. We have to stop this maniac.”

  “You got that right, sir.” He left the office with determination.

  The precinct was soon crawling with models, camera men, make-up artist and hair stylist. There was hardly any room for the detectives that were questioning them. Johnny was in his glory because Burnsey had given him and Phil Greaves the models to question at length.

  Burnsey interrogated the make-up artist and the hair stylist, both had the same story, someone had been into their equipment; make-up, combs and brushes were interfered with. The hair brushes still had hairs on the bristles which Burnsey bagged for forensics. There wasn’t much that could be done with the make-up except take the girls word that it happened at both places.

  The peculiar thing was that only the manikins were at Wanamaker’s. When asked why not any live models, the opinions varied from cheap to saving money. Which amounted to the same thing, money.

  Detective Burns asked his crew of detectives and officers to write concise reports for the chief. But first give them to him to check.