“From now on you don’t talk to anyone about this, not your asshole buddies at the Show nor anyone here at work. You keep your mouth shut and never talk to that detective again. You don’t talk to anyone without me or our attorney with you. I never want to see or hear about you with another woman out there, do you understand me? If I find out you have been and you lie to me, I am going to the detective and tell him you knew all seven of those girls and had been with them all, and that’s a promise. Now go back to your office. Stay put ‘til it’s time to go to the Show. Tonight you go with me, you stay with me and you keep your mouth shut.”
“But Ellen, he told me to report to the medical examiner’s office for a DNA test or he will come back and take me to jail, right here in front of everyone.”
“I told you—you don’t do anything without an attorney, you don’t go for any test unless he shows up with a warrant. Do you understand?” Her icy glare told him she meant business.
* * * *
Ellen didn’t leave Joe any choice and he was too frightened to argue. Anyway, Joe knew she was serious as a heart attack and there was no way he was going to cross her. Until all this went down and they pinned these murders on someone else he had to hold himself together. He got out of the SUV and went back to his office and the bottle of Jack. Drinking wasn’t gonna help, but it wasn’t gonna hurt, either.
Chapter Nineteen
Playing Hunches
Back in the Livestock Show offices, intrigue hung like a storm cloud over everything. In one part of the building Dakota Taylor was meeting with Leon Powers and Sergeant Hebert to update them with the information she had just received from Vern Nagel. They were in agreement that all of them were more than ready to let Joe Dresden take the fall if it came to that. Now the question was how to distance themselves and the Show from Dresden and what damage control they would have to do to cover it with Ellen.
“I want to be sure that the current investigation is into the murder of only the girl from the other night and that this Detective Storm doesn’t or isn’t going to relate this to any other situations that might shed a negative light on the Show,” Powers said. “Those goddamned security cameras put the girl here in the facility. Although the whole world has become more security conscious since 9/11, it aggrieves the inner sanctum to know there’s a connection to us and I want it stopped,” Powers ordered the two.
Hebert and Taylor assured Powers that to the best of their knowledge the detective didn’t know about anything else. “I’m tellin’ ya, Storm is a washed up has-been,” Hebert added, as Dakota nodded her head in agreement.
“OK. Now that we have that clarified—and you better be right—it’s business as usual for now. Keep up an outward appearance that nothing unusual is going on, at least until we hear Dresden’s been arrested or something breaks.”
Powers got up and showed Hebert and Dakota the door. He’s obviously done with us for now, Hebert reassured himself. At least I hope so.
* * * *
In another part of the offices Peggy was going through her binder on the girls’ murders. Peggy had pictures of all the girls except for this last one. She also had every write-up she had been able to find in the newspapers at the times of the murders. She felt she knew the background of these girls better than the cops did, and last night when she followed the detective, she had come upon something she felt was major, something only someone with her combined knowledge would have recognized. Late last night she had accessed show records and confirmed her suspicions. She had to talk to that police detective. He might think she was looney tunes, but she had to tell someone and right now she thought he was the only one she could trust.
* * * *
Not far away, Storm had gone to Leslie’s apartment in a modest neighborhood off the Southwest Freeway and the Loop, just south of the Galleria. Not a bad neighborhood, but not the best anymore, either. In the ‘70s it had been the area to live in if you were single and into the club and bar scene of Houston. Over the past few years it had become more rundown and was being encroached upon by the barrio. Dollar Stores, Mexican bars, and bodegas lined the streets now, and most of the apartment complexes had fences, concertina wire, and gates surrounding them. But it was still convenient to downtown and much cheaper than the new complexes on the near west side of town.
Her apartment was clean and tidy, without many worldly possessions—just a TV, couch, chair, and breakfast table in the main living area. A queen-sized bed and dresser occupied the bedroom, and her closet was filled mostly with skirts, blouses, and jackets befitting a working girl’s budget. There were few photos of family or friends. Although he did find pictures taken at the Show, there was no one he recognized in them.
Appropriately, in many of the pictures she was dressed in her best cowgirl outfits, standing with men and women all dressed similarly. They were taken outside of both the stadium and the center as well as inside the center where the exhibits were set up. Nothing too surprising or noteworthy, many of the men in the photos were much older than she, but there were no photos of her and Dresden. Storm gathered them up and decided to take them with him and to see if Russell knew any of those men pictured with her.
Storm’s next stop was the Tejas Petroleum building downtown. The Tejas building (actually one of two twin buildings called in combination “Tejas Plaza”) was one of the first major buildings built in downtown Houston as the home of large Tejas Petroleum Corporation. The first real high rise was the old Humble Building built in 1936; after its construction there had been a long drought before the spate of new super structures that had started with the Tejas Buildings. Built in the late 1960s, the two Tejas Petroleum Plaza buildings were white marble and black glass and the lobbies were nice, if somewhat cold and austere.
Tejas Petroleum had its own full-time security and after arriving at the desk of One Tejas Plaza, Storm asked to see Dwight Parker, head of internal security for Tejas Petroleum. The receptionist called him and within minutes after being told there was an HPD Detective there to see him, he was in the lobby shaking hands with Storm. Introducing himself he asked, “What can I do for you Detective?”
“Mr. Parker, I’m here doing some follow-up on a murder that occurred last weekend. A young woman named Leslie Phillips was found dead on the grounds of new stadium. We understand she was an employee of Tejas Petroleum.” Storm continued. “Have you been notified of her death?”
“Yes, we got notification Monday after she didn’t show up for work and our attempts to contact her failed. A Sergeant Hernandez from HPD called and notified us of her death and asked for any records we might have of her next of kin. In our records we showed she only had one set of grandparents surviving her. Seems her parents were killed many years ago.” said Parker.
“I’m the lead investigator on the case, Mr. Parker, and I’m chasing down any information that might help us find a clue to her killer. Would you happen to know what department Miss Phillips worked in? I would like to talk to anyone who would have known her or might be able to tell me more about her.”
“I think she worked in our purchasing division, but I’ll introduce you to the human relations director and he can tell you exactly where she worked and who her supervisor was.”
With that, Parker led Storm to the elevators. Parker was an older man and had probably worked for Tejas for many years. He obviously ran a tight ship. He carried himself like ex-military, his back ramrod straight, but he had gentleness in his voice.
They found the human relations department and Storm was introduced to Peter Bonham, the director of personnel for Tejas Petroleum in Houston. After Parker and Storm were seated in Bonham’s office, Parker explained who Storm was and what he was doing there.
“I was sorry to hear about Miss Phillips,” Bonham said. “From all accounts she was a good employee. I’m sorry to say I didn’t know her personally, but I have her file on my desk because I need to review it for details like insurance and reports to the IRS.” He told Storm he had already
concluded that she had worked for Tejas Petroleum for the last four years and that her work record was spotless. Her immediate supervisor was Maxine Davenport, office manager in the purchasing division, which was located on another floor. He apologized, telling Storm he couldn’t escort him to that department as he had another meeting, but asked if Mr. Parker would take Detective Storm to Ms. Davenport’s office.
“Mr. Bonham, I appreciate your seeing me on short notice and I won’t take much more of your time then needed, but I do have one more question. There was another girl who worked here about seven years ago who was also murdered. Would you have any records on her that would tell us if anyone who still works here who might have known her?”
Storm was playing a hunch. While sitting there listening to Bonham relate what Leslie’s employment file showed, Storm had remembered that the first girl killed had also worked at Tejas Petroleum; might as well check it out. Bonham reached over to his computer keyboard, rebooted it, and asked, “Do you know how long ago it might have been?”
“About six or seven years ago. Her name was Elaine Gage,” said Storm.
While Bonham scrolled through the human resources records, Parker leaned over and whispered to Storm, “Why are you asking about this other girl?”
“She was found near the same area this girl was found and killed in the same manner. Let’s call it a cop’s curiosity, intuition, whatever.”
“Then you think there might be a link?” asked Parker.
“I am not sure yet, it’s way too early to know, but there are too many similarities to ignore the possibility,” said Storm.
“Do you think it has anything to do with Tejas Petroleum?” Parker asked. Storm saw the concern on his face, and for good reason: the idea that someone might be killing Tejas Petroleum employees would, of course, be a worry to him.
“Not that I know of now, but I promise to keep you posted,” said Storm
“Well, I hope to hell it doesn’t. I got enough shit on my plate right now with this terrorist crap I have to deal with,” sighed Parker. Storm nodded, silently acknowledging that in this post-9/11 world, everyone had to be careful to notice even things that seemed insignificant.
It only took Bonham a couple of minutes to find the file on Elaine Gage. She had worked in the accounting department for three years. Again, perfect reviews in her personnel file. Her supervisor had been Shirley Young and she was still the manager of that area. Bonham offered that Parker could take Storm to see her, as well. Parker agreed. “I’ll call ahead and alert the two women of our impending visit and ask them to cooperate as much as they can,” he told Storm.
Storm again offered his thanks to Bonham and he and Parker were off to purchasing to see Maxine Davenport. When they arrived on the floor that housed the purchasing division, Storm noticed it was much different than the offices they had just left. It was full of cubicles about four feet high, each with a matching desk, a couple chairs, and a bookcase—sterile but functional. There was a small conference room on the floor where they were greeted by Mrs. Davenport, a portly woman of about forty-five who told Storm she had worked for Tejas Petroleum for twenty-five years. She had started her career with Tejas Petroleum as a clerk in the purchasing division and she was quite proud of the fact she had worked herself up to manager. She quickly gave Storm the ten-cent tour on the workings of her area, obviously proud of her operation.
“How well did you know Miss. Phillips, Mrs. Davenport?” asked Storm.
His question set off a surprising series of events Storm wished he could constrain, but knew he had no control over. Mrs. Davenport was apparently one of those people who wore their emotions on their sleeve. When Storm brought up Leslie’s name, Mrs. Davenport began to sob.
“I apologize for barging in and upsetting you, Mrs. Davenport,” he said, as Parker offered her a box of tissues from the side table. “I need to know as much about Leslie’s life as I can.”
Mrs. Davenport nodded her head in understanding. “I knew Leslie from her first day of working here. I even trained her.” She blinked to hold back the tears, as she fought to gain control of her emotions.
“Was she good at her job?” Asked Storm.
“She was wonderful. Her paperwork was perfect. Her buyers loved her and her vendors even brought her presents, small things like pens and those goofy bobble head dolls,” said Mrs. Davenport. “Leslie was never late for work and she was always back before the lunch hour was over. That’s why I became so concerned when Leslie didn’t show up for work Monday morning.”
“How did you get the news of her death, Mrs. Davenport?” Asked Storm.
“First we called the phone numbers we had for her, and when there was no answer we called security to look into it,” she answered, beginning to sob again. “I’m so sorry...I can’t seem to stop crying....It was just a few minutes later that one of Mr. Parker’s people called to say they had been contacted by the police department and told that she had been killed sometime late Saturday night or early Sunday morning.”
“Mrs. Davenport, do you know if she had any family?” asked Storm.
Stopping to blow her nose, she began typing on her keyboard and looked at her monitor. Then she copied something down on a scratch pad and tore off the top sheet. She handed it to Storm. “Just her grandparents. That is the name and address she listed as her emergency contacts. She grew up living with them in Hallettsville after her parents were killed in auto accident. She was an only child, no brothers or sisters.”
“Are they both still living?” Asked Storm.
“Yes, as far as I know. Leslie had a picture of the three of them on her desk and I know she went home to Hallettsville to spend Christmas every year. They were all she had since the loss of her parents, not even aunts or uncles I ever heard of,” Mrs. Davenport said, suppressing another sob.
“Have they been contacted by someone here in the office?”
“Yes, Detective, and they are making funeral arrangements for their granddaughter. They are not wealthy people Detective, so Tejas Petroleum is going to help with that as well as with getting her body home to Hallettsville. The funeral will be as soon as the body is released from your morgue,” Said Maxine.
“I will look into the release of her body for you, Mrs. Davenport,” Storm promised, although he knew it would be an easy promise to keep since the M.E. had finished the autopsy and Leslie could now be taken home for burial.
“Detective Storm, these people who work for me, especially the younger ones,” waving her hand in the direction of the cubicles, “are like my family. They know my door is always open and we chat and I try to keep up with their lives.” Once again, the water works started.
Storm tried not to smile, though in spite of himself he found it amusing that Mrs. Davenport referred to her door being open since her office was a cubicle, as well, only with taller walls and no door, the sign of her stature in what he suspected was a strictly defined pay-grade hierarchy.
“Since you were so close to Leslie, did she ever mention a boyfriend or significant other?” asked Storm.
“Detective, Leslie was a beautiful girl; she had guys all over the building knocking her door down. She could have dated any single man in the place, but she didn’t. I told her when she first came to work here, ‘Don’t play where you get paid,’ and she took it to heart and never did,” said Maxine.
Storm wondered if that was true, or if Leslie had chosen what information she shared with Maxine. “Do you know if she dated anyone?”
“Yes, I am sure she did. She was a wonderful girl and any man would have been lucky to have gone out with her. I know she got involved with the Rodeo and Livestock Show thing two years ago and I heard she dated some of cowboys out there, but nothing serious. I think if she had had a serious boyfriend she would have told me,” Maxine sniffled.
“But she didn’t tell you specifically about any of the cowboys, mention names or anything?” Asked Storm.
“No, she took vacation time that time of yea
r, or would have started it, next week. She said she wanted to be free to be out there all of the time, as she loved meeting new people and attending all the social events, and when her vacation was over, she came back and really didn’t talk much about it, just exclaimed she’d had fun,” Maxine said.
“Well, I think that’s all I need for the moment, Mrs. Davenport, but this is my card. If you think of anything else that might help, please call. Thank you for your time and assistance. By the way, you’re right, she was a beautiful girl. I’m sure her loss will affect everyone who knew her,” said Storm.
Parker’s and Storm’s next stop was to see Shirley Young, who had been Elaine Gage’s boss at the time Elaine was killed. If Storm thought the purchasing division was austere, the accounting department was downright Spartan, with computer terminals everywhere, lots of silence, and no personal touches at all. Shirley Young was probably fifty, with severe butchy looks and a mechanical quality about her. She didn’t offer to show them around or explain what they did and she acted annoyed that she had to take time out of her day to talk to them, especially about something that had happened six or seven years ago.
There would be no tears on this visit; it was all business and Storm knew to get on with it if he wanted to get any information she might have. Without preliminaries, he asked, “Do you remember an employee named Elaine Gage?”
“Yes, she worked for me about seven years ago. I think she was found dead somewhere out by the Dome,” Ms. Young said matter-of-factly.
“What can you tell me about her?” Asked Storm.
“She was good with paperwork and kept up with her job, although she never volunteered to do more than was asked of her.”
“Did you ever wonder about her murder?” Storm asked.
“No, it was of no concern to me; it was only a matter of filling her job as soon as possible.”
“Did the police contact you when she was killed?”
Charity Kills (A David Storm Mystery) Page 15