“Not that I know of, why?” asked Storm. He thought of his earlier hunch. Leslie’s shoes had not been found with her clothing.
“When I was telling you about serial murders and the hinky kinks there is one thing I left out, one in particular, and that was, most of them keep trophies of their kills. I didn’t notice it at first when I went through the files, but I did when I kept looking at the similarities from each report. In the list of personal items found in connections with each girl there were always bloody clothes found, their purses were always found with money still in them. So robbery wasn’t a motive. But in each case there was never a mention of shoes of any kind. I think the killer is keeping their shoes, or boots in this case, as the trophy. With everything else that connects the way these girls were killed, it adds to the support that this is the same person.” Hernandez took a breath as he looked around the room, seeing the acceptance of what he had said register on the faces of the others.
“And I think our killer picked these girls for all the reasons we already concluded but I think the killer knew them all well enough to really ‘know’ these girls, and I mean pretty well, and none of them had much family. Each and every one of them only had like one or two family members left in the world. The killer is picking the prey very carefully, the killer stalked them.” With that said, Hernandez sat back and let his theory sink in.
The room got even quieter as they each digested what they had heard. It was Alisha who was the first to speak. “OK, so we think Sergeant Hebert knows more than he is telling, but who else is involved in sweeping these murders under the table?”
“The mayor’s office,” said Storm, and he told them about his visit with Lieutenant Flynn that morning and Vern Nagel’s proprietary interest in his progress.
“Do they know you know about the other girls or do they know we might?” asked Hernandez.
“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t said a word to anyone, except Joe Dresden, about them yet,” Storm.
“Have any of the rest of you caught anyone sniffing around?” asked Storm.
“Chu asked what Grady and I were doing today at the station earlier than I would normally be there,” offered Russell.
“What did you tell her?” Storm.
“Told her we were going over his old vids for his retirement.”
“Did she buy it?”
“Think so, she didn’t ask anymore.”
“Did she talk to you, Grady?” Storm turned to the cameraman.
“Nope. Although, she did ask when I was retiring. Guess she wants to dance on my grave or buy me a cake.” That broke the tension and everyone had a good laugh. “OK, so where do we go next?” he asked.
“Did you have any luck at the girl’s apartment?” Hernandez asked, turning to Storm.
“Zip. But I did bring along some photos that look like they might have been taken last year at the Show. Wanted to see if Russell recognized anybody.” With that he handed the photos to Russell, while the others looked over his shoulder.
As he looked at the pictures he asked Storm, “How did it go with Dresden today?”
“He said he knew two of the other girls and admitted he had been with them. He is one scared piece of crap.”
“He should be, he is candidate numero uno, isn’t he?” said Hernandez.
“He is right now, but I’m not sure he’s good for it,” said Storm.
“Why?” asked Grady.
“Alisha said the girls were murdered by someone who knew what they were doing. Their throats were cut in such a way they couldn’t scream and they didn’t fight back. Joe Dresden is a pussy. He never was in the military or even played any contact sports. I doubt he’s ever played anything but pocket pool or ‘hide the trout’ in high school. He is a pretty boy dilettante who married for money and the freedom to play golf every day.”
“But that doesn’t totally rule him out,” said Hernandez.
“No, but he says he only knew two of the other girls.”
“You can’t believe everything you hear from a guy like him, so I don’t think that rules him out for sure,” argued Hernandez.
“No, but it does if we can prove he didn’t know all seven of the girls. He sure didn’t look like he recognized the others, with the exception of the gag reaction to the morgue photos.”
It was then Russell broke in. “There is something else you need to know, Storm. When you went out to Joe’s office Ellen saw you and the exchange you had with Joe. She called me and began giving me the third degree, like ‘who are you, what were you doing in Joe’s office’ and so on. At first I didn’t think it was a big deal but damn, she hasn’t called me in years and now here she was on the phone asking me about you.”
“Did she say anything that would make you believe she knows anything or knew Leslie?” asked Storm.
“Yes, actually she did, she called the girl a slut, she told me I was just as bad as Joe and I knew what kind of sluts that hung around out there and what they were looking for,” replied Russell.
Russell quickly tried to add humor as looked around the table and asked with feigned innocence, “Do any of you think I would keep company with soiled doves?”
A collective groan was heard from everyone and smiles again appeared on all their faces.
Storm caught Alisha eyes and asked, “Do you think a five-foot-five about one hundred-fifty pound woman could have done this?”
Alisha thought a minute. “No, where would she have gotten the training and knowledge to kill someone like this? Plus, these girls were all pretty tall, probably at least as tall as most females. It would have been almost impossible for her to subdue them, hold them down, and kill them without one of these girls scratching her and there has never been any skin found reported under any of the girls’ nails.”
Hernandez spoke up. “Storm, we never saw her on any of the disks, and didn’t Dresden tell you he went in with Leslie and a bunch of other people? If his wife was there he wouldn’t have been in the bathroom getting laid.”
“Are you going back to see Joe again?” asked Russell.
“Probably, but right now he isn’t high on my list to go see again, why?” replied Storm.
“Well, I think you may have to ask Ellen where she was the night Leslie was killed. We didn’t see her on the security disk, but does she have an alibi?” asked Russell.
Each collaborator considered the possibility but moved on.
“OK, if not Dresden and not his wife, then who?” asked Alisha.
“If we are right and all these girls were killed because they were around the Show, then we have to assume that the killer has had access to the Show for at least the last seven years,” Storm commented.
“Are we sure they were all involved out at the show in one way or another?” asked Russell.
Storm looked around the room. All shook their head in the affirmative. “It’s my guess we do,” he said, “but I’m going back to the Show offices tomorrow to check for any records on the six other girls. I’m also going to ask for any video tapes that might still exist on the nights the other girls were killed and see where it leads.”
“Shit!” yelled Russell. “You know that will tip our hand.”
“Only tip off those who are trying to hide the facts and we’ve got to know for sure if the killings are related. I know I’m putting myself out on a limb, but I have to take the chance to get concrete proof of what we feel in our gut is true.”
The room got eerily quiet.
“What do we do then?” asked Russell.
“Keep yourselves out of it for now. Stay quiet and don’t let anyone know we have met or talked. If anyone takes a fall for this, it will be me. All of you have a great deal more to lose than me, especially Pancho,” said Storm.
Storm knew, and he knew the others were in agreement, that this was a big step and all hell could break loose, but it was the right step to take. If there was a conspiracy, then the proverbial shit would hit the fan by tomorrow and there would be noth
ing they could do to stop it except to get a yellow slicker and duck.
For now Storm was on his own. God, tonight it would be hard to sleep, but then he thought, get over yourself, Storm, old buddy, people have been writing you off for years, so what’s the big freakin’ deal now?
Chapter Twenty-one
“Peggy Won’t Be in Today”
The next day was one of those special and somewhat rare days in Houston when not only is there not a cloud in the sky and no smog, but the temperature is cool, there’s no humidity and just a light breeze blowing. It was one of those early March days when everybody wants to be outside enjoying nature. One of those days the people up north could only rent for a day at this time of year, Storm thought, the kind of day you feel alive.
The drive to the Show offices was easy. Storm had stopped at his favorite taqueria on Kirby and Alabama for a Mexican coffee and two breakfast burritos—his taste for those filling, high-cholesterol gas factories was one of the few secrets he had kept hidden from Angie. She had hated his eating habits, so he had had these treats on the sly. His mantra was, “if it tastes good and doesn’t kill me it’s safe,” but he saved actually eating them for when she wouldn’t catch him.
With a satisfied smirk on his face he finished the burrito as he pulled through the main entry gates to the complex. The place was bustling; committeemen were running around on golf carts or helping contestants stall their show animals, and vendors were replenishing their booths with food. With the wonderful weather, this was going to be a glorious day for all concerned.
Storm stopped at the reception desk, asked for Ms. Taylor, and then took a seat to wait. A different female gatekeeper seated behind the elevated reception desk reached for her telephone and made a call.
Dakota Taylor soon came through the doors that separated the inner sanctum from the reception area. She flashed her corporate smile and held out her hand. “Detective Storm, you’re here early. How did you hear about it so soon?”
Storm couldn’t hide his puzzlement; he had no idea what she was talking about. “Hear about what, Ms. Taylor?”
“Why, one of our employees is missing.” Dakota now, too, looked confused, as if she was wondering, why is the detective here if he hasn’t heard?
Storm was so dumbstruck he didn’t know what to say. Questions ran through his mind. Who was missing? Why hadn’t he been called?
“You don’t know, do you?” asked Dakota.
“Who is missing, Ms. Taylor, and how long have they been missing?” asked Storm.
Dakota gave a look that was hard to interpret but which Storm took to be a “Damn, I just let the cat out of the bag” look.
“Oh, it’s probably all a misunderstanding, I’m sure she is just running late. Maybe she had an accident and hasn’t had a chance to call.”
“Who is it?” asked Storm.
“Oh, never mind, Detective, I shouldn’t have bothered you with it. It was just seeing you here unexpectedly; I thought you had come to help.”
“Ms. Taylor, I am always ready to help. Has anyone called the police and put in a missing persons report?”
“I thought they had when I saw you, but I am not sure now.”
“Who is it?”
“Peggy Wise, our assistant manager of ticket sales, but I am sure she is just running late.”
Damn. This was the woman Storm had wanted to talk to. If she is missing what the hell is going on out here?
“Ms. Taylor, do you want me to report it? Do you have her address? I can always call it in and we can send a car by her home to check.”
“No, no, Detective. Like I said, I am sure she is just running late, but I will notify you if there is any change.”
Damn, this bitch is cold, thought Storm. She soon went right back to her stone-faced-fake-smile-corporate self. “Now what was it you wanted to see me about, Detective?”
“This might be better done somewhere private, not out here in the lobby.”
“Of course, Detective.” They went to the same small conference room off the lobby he had been in before.
“Do you keep records of all the members and people involved in the Livestock Show?”
“I am not sure what you are asking, Detective,” Dakota replied cautiously.
“Ms. Taylor, I have reason to think that the murder of Leslie Phillips is related to other murders in the Dome area over the past six years and I need to see if there are any links between them and the girl from Sunday in your records.”
Only Dakota’s eyes betrayed her, darting away from his, trying to look somewhere anywhere but at him. He knew she had them and he knew she was going to lie.
“What could you possibly mean, Detective Storm?”
“Over the past few years, six girls have been found dead in or around the area of the Dome, all killed in the same manner as the girl from Saturday night. I have their names and I was hoping you had a record of whether they had been members of the Show. If they were, then we may need to check out members of the Show as well as employees, vendors, security staff, anyone who might have had a connection to them.”
It was then that Storm pulled the morgue photos of the girls from out of the manila envelope he was carrying, and as he did, a sheet of copy paper with the girls’ names also fell out onto the table.
”Detective, I can’t give you that kind of information.”
“Why not?” asked Storm.
“Our records are privileged,” she answered. Her throat made an involuntary clutching sound as if she was trying to keep from gagging.
“Ms. Taylor, I am not asking you to give me your list of members or donors, even though you are a charitable organization. I only want you to tell me if any of these girls were members or if there were any documented relationships with the Show. Of course, I can always request a subpoena if I have to.”
* * * *
Dakota cringed, looked away, and groaned. She wished she could be anywhere but sitting at this table. Her natural reaction was to flee, but she knew she had to fight. Flight was out of the question. The pictures made her sick to her stomach and she fought to control the urge to vomit, but the sight of the dead girls was overwhelming. She covered her mouth and turned away.
Dakota knew she was caught. The Show had promised to help with the investigation and she didn’t want to appear to be stonewalling. She knew the Show could get the subpoena quashed, so her best bet was to stall. Storm may have been a washed up drunk, but he had found out about the other girls. Peggy Wise had slipped her mind completely now. She had a bigger dilemma and bigger fish to fry.
Smiling sweetly and seemingly backing down, Dakota said, “Of course, Detective, if you will give me a list of their names I can run a search of our database to see if these girls are on any of our member or vendor lists. I’ll get back to you with the information as soon as I have it.”
Storm handed her the piece of copy paper with girls’ names on it and added, “Miss Taylor, if you will give me your missing employee’s address, I will send a car by to check on her.”
“No, no, that’s okay, Detective. Let me get on this for you and I will call later today with what I find.”
* * * *
All Storm could do was wait and see. He hated waiting, so he was going to see about the missing employee, this Peggy Wise. When Storm got to the parking lot he called Hernandez from his mobile phone, thinking to himself that the shit was about to hit the fan now.
“You out there?” Hernandez meant “the Show.” “What happened?”
“I just met with Dakota Taylor and I asked for the names and any records they may have on the six dead girls. She knows about them, it was all over her face, but she is good; she didn’t blink an eye, but she did flinch, and she lied to me. She told me it would take some time to find out if any of the girls’ names were in their database.”
“What do you think she knows?”
“I think she knows there’s a cover-up and who’s behind it. I suspect she knows a lot more than then
she is telling me.”
“Then the Show is in on it?”
“Yep. Hey, Pancho, I need for you to get me an address on a Peggy Wise. She works here at Show.”
“Who is Peggy Wise?’ asked Pancho.
“She is the girl who worked with the first victim we found, the one who worked at Tejas Petroleum six years ago and was found with her throat cut like Leslie. Her supervisor told me this Peggy girl and Elaine, yeah, that was her name, were friends and now this Peggy works for the Show. I thought while I was out here I would see if she knew anything about Elaine’s death. Did she know if Elaine was dating anyone out here. Ask her if she knew any of the others.”
“Why, then, do you need her address?”
“When I got here this morning, Ms. Taylor was not surprised to see me and thought I had come because they have a missing employee. It turns out they hadn’t called it in yet and were just passing it off as she must just be late. But if you can get her address I want to go check on her. If she’s missing, it may be connected. I’d like to run by her house and see if she’s at home and you check to see if she was involved in some car wreck or something and just late for work.”
It took a few minutes for Hernandez to find Peggy’s address, but it was close by. Her small house was just south of the Dome off Stella Link in a neighborhood that was like the Heights—finding new life because of its location. People moving to Houston to be near or a part of the burgeoning Medical Center wanted to live close by and this area was perfect.
Storm approached the door and found it open. He went inside, announcing himself. “Houston Police. You here, Miss Wise?”
No answer. He stepped in cautiously, gun drawn. The place had been ransacked. The furniture was turned upside down with books and papers all over the floor. In the bedroom he found the lifeless body of Peggy Wise. Damn, what the hell?
It was plain to see the girl had had her throat slashed just like Leslie and she had been posed for discovery. Was this part of his case? Did this woman have something to do with the other murders? As he ruminated on this latest turn, he called for backup and for the M.E.’s office.
Charity Kills (A David Storm Mystery) Page 17