Charity Kills (A David Storm Mystery)

by Jon Bridgewater

  While he waited for the response teams he called Hernandez. “Hey, listen. . .” He told Hernandez what he had found.

  He then called Alisha. “This is Detective David Storm. I was out on a missing persons call and discovered a homicide at the home of Ms. Peggy Wise. The victim is a young woman, maybe about twenty-eight. She has been murdered, her throat cut in a way that has some distinctive characteristics.” He chose his words carefully and spoke formally, not knowing who else could be listening. “You’ll be officially notified soon. CSI is on the way and as soon as they’ve processed the scene you’ll be receiving the remains.” He paused. “I’d appreciate knowing your conclusions, Doctor.”

  Though Storm was intentionally vague, he figured Alisha would catch the hints he dropped. Within minutes patrol cars working the area arrived; even Hebert showed up. Storm watched over the crime scene until the on-call processor from the M.E.’s office arrived. Nobody was touching this body or disturbing the scene until everything was photographed and logged into evidence—he’d hang around to make sure of it. Hebert’s officers began to canvass the neighborhood. All the neighbors were shocked and surprised to hear something like this had happened in their neighborhood, but no one had seen anything suspicious. They knew Peggy’s hours were long this time of year, so they didn’t expect to see or talk to her until the Show was over.

  Storm watched as the onsite exam was completed. This victim had fought back. She didn’t go down easy, but the pool of blood surrounding her body was big enough to be the entire capacity of her body. Her bloody right hand was dropped in the pool and her index finger pointed outward. It appeared as if she was trying to write something but what? There was too much blood to make any sense of it. She was lying face down, her clothes were ripped, and her naked bottom was posed as if stuck up in the air. He had to wait for verification, but he was sure she had been violated. For the moment, all he could do was wait for Alisha to do her magic and tell him what she found. He wondered if the wreckage in the house was from the fight or if the perpetrator was looking for something.

  Irony seemed to be the only reaction to the scene Storm could come up with. I need to call Dakota Taylor and tell her that Peggy Wise won’t be in today, he told himself. Guess questioning this girl is out of the realm of possibility.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A Mentor’s Confidence

  Dakota Taylor sat quietly in her office trying to regain her composure. Seeing the morgue photos of the all of the murder victims had left her totally unnerved. She was sure she would never get those ghastly faces out of her mind. Even her cold corporate heart wondered how someone could do what had been done to those girls, not once, but seven times. She knew she had to pull herself together and call Vern Nagel, so he could get the mayor and the police chief more involved, and do it immediately. Someone had to put a leash on the detective. She made the call.

  * * * *

  The mayor heard him coming. Vern Nagel didn’t even wait to be announced. He bolted through the mayor’s office door gasping for breath from the short run down the hall. He brought himself up short of his boss’s desk looking more than a little alarmed. “Mr. Mayor, that detective that works for Flynn, he knows about the other girls.”

  “Jesus Christ, Vern, you can’t just run in here babbling about something inane and interrupt me.” Mayor Lemay was pissed. The veins in his neck popped out as his blood pressure began skyrocketing and he assured himself, I have a right to be.

  “Sir,” Nagel ran on, screeching, “That detective Lieutenant Flynn assigned to the murder of the girl at the Dome knows about the other girls, the ones found over the last few years.”

  “How the hell do you know that?” The mayor put the papers down he had been reading and looked at Nagel as if he had lost his mind.

  “Dakota Taylor from the Livestock Show just called. She said the detective was there this morning with their names and morgue photos of each of them. She said the pictures made her sick. He asked Dakota to run their names against the Show’s database to see if any of them were connected to the Show in any way.”

  “Goddamn it, Nagel, Lee Powers has already called and chewed my ass out about this. He basically threatened me and it wasn’t a warning. He was clear that he expected me to take care of this. Get the police chief, Lieutenant Flynn and that dumbass director of the M.E. department in here now! If that detective has morgue photos of all of the victims, he probably had help from someone in the M.E.’s office.” The mayor knew he was getting more upset by the minute and he didn’t care. Was he surrounded by idiots and buffoons? Couldn’t anyone around here control some drunk and pathetic old washed-up cop ?

  It only took a few minutes for each of the men Richard Lemay had summoned to arrive. Also in the group was a gray haired cop the mayor didn’t recognize. What in world could be in Flynn’s head that he would bring this old guy along? Who the hell was he and what could he add? The largest concern, could old guy be trusted?

  “Flynn, this is a private meeting. Who is this gentleman and what is he doing here?” asked the mayor, looking directly at Lieutenant Robert Smith.

  “Mr. Mayor, this is Lieutenant Bob Smith. I asked him to join us because he knows Detective Storm better than I do and I think we may need his insights here, Lieutenant Smith from the training division was the detective’s first instructor and has followed his career ever since.”

  “Lieutenant Smith, I don’t have time for niceties. I didn’t ask you here and I am not sure what you can add, but since you are here, please be aware anything said in this room is for our ears only. If anything said here comes to light, it is you I will come after. Is that understood?”

  Lieutenant Smith shook his head affirmatively and seated himself back from the table behind the higher ranking officers; he was no stranger to the pecking order. He wasn’t sure why he was here, either, other than it had something to do with Storm and he wasn’t sure he was happy to be involved.

  “Flynn, your man just showed up at the Livestock Show offices with names of all the girls found killed near or around the Dome over the past seven years. Not only did he know their names, but he had photographs obviously taken from the M.E.’s files, as they were morgue shots. Is there any other place they could have come from?” The mayor looked right at Dr. Alex Roberts, the presiding M.E. and Alisha’s boss.

  Before the M.E. could answer, the chief broke in and said, “Sir, there would also be a copy in our unsolved case files.”

  “Where are those files and who has access to them?” The mayor stormed.

  “Since they are homicides they would be in our archive records,” answered Lieutenant Flynn.

  “OK. How he got them is a mystery we can solve later. Right now, the Show office tells me, he is trying to make a connection between those other unsolved homicides and this one, he was assigned to investigate this murder. And, gentlemen, he has to be stopped now! I have already had my ass eaten out by Lee Powers and I will tell you, you don’t want him or the people he represents at the goddamned Show up our asses. Do I make myself clear? Lieutenant Smith, tell us about this Storm character,” directed the mayor.

  * * * *

  Smith had been sitting back trying to stifle a grin during the mayor’s tirade. It looked like Storm was back and had stirred up a hornet’s nest. Obviously, something had called him back into the game and Smith knew the powers that be weren’t ready for the old Storm.

  “What I can tell you, Mr. Mayor, is that growing up in Houston, he was a local football hero and went on to play at Texas Tech. After college he came back to Houston and enrolled in the police academy. I was an instructor there at the time and he did well. He had all the physical attributes and he was smart; not just book smart but street smart. Then five years ago his wife was murdered and her killer was never found. That’s when he fell off the edge. He began drinking, he either didn’t show up for work or if he did, he would come in drunk or drinking. He screwed up some major cases and we had to give him a choice; take admi
nistrative leave and sober up or get fired. He took the leave and as far as I know has not had a drink since.”

  Smith looked at Flynn. “He’s been on your watch since he returned, hasn’t he?”

  “Yes. I’ve kept him in a support mode, canvassing and so forth for the lead investigator and filing the reports.”

  “Why did you give him this case?” asked the mayor.

  “When I got the call from Sergeant Hebert on Sunday morning, I was led to believe this was not a priority case and not to assign it to a lead investigator. The inference was that the case would be open and shut with little or no follow-up and would probably just go away, so Storm seemed to be the perfect choice. Since his return to the force, he hasn’t shown any desire to work a case that’s hard nor has he appeared to be committed to solving anything. He stopped a moment as if thinking and then continued. “Although he does dig into the files of his wife’s murder every once in awhile.”

  * * * *

  “Do we take him off this case?” the mayor asked, a question he deliberately made more wide-ranging than directed at any one participant.

  “No, sir. In my opinion, that would send the wrong message to the other detectives in my division and might even make this case more visible,” said Flynn.

  “Sir,” pushed in Nagel, “Dakota has told me he also runs around with that weather guy from Channel 5.”

  “So what?” the Mayor fumed, not appreciating Nagel’s constant interruptions.

  “We need to take a look at—” Nagel began, but didn’t finish because Lieutenant Smith jumped in.

  “Sir, Russell Hildebrandt and Storm have been friends since college. Russell was Storm’s best man at his wedding and he has been there for Storm since his wife was killed. I agree with Mr. Nagel. He may not be a news man anymore, but he still would find it interesting that his best friend, a homicide detective, was pulled off a murder case, especially one where Storm may have found more questions than answers.”

  “OK, OK. Leave him on it, but put a muzzle on him and a very short leash,” the mayor barked. “And I want to know how he found out about the other girls. I want that source to be dried up. You all understand?” Richard Lemay scowled at every man in the room.

  “Yes, sir. I will have Storm in my office first thing tomorrow morning,” Flynn quickly said.

  “Good. And I want Vern and Lieutenant Smith there, as well. Make sure he understands he is not to stick his nose into these old cases, he just works on the one from Sunday. You got it?”

  Every head in the room nodded “yes.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The Bomb Drops

  Leon Powers’ cell phone began to beep with the text message that it was time to meet and the 911 notice on the screen left no doubt that it was an emergency. Somewhere the shit had hit the fan, but where?

  * * * *

  By 11:00 AM Peggy Wise’s body had been dropped at the M.E.’s office and Alisha had been pulled off the autopsy and investigation. She had started the examination, but was sidelined by her boss with the excuse that she hadn’t finished the drowning victim and that he needed a definitive answer to the cause of the boy’s death. He also warned her that if she was helping Detective Storm in any way with any information or files on any unsolved cases she could be severely reprimanded. “Terminated” was what he implied, but Alisha didn’t scare that easily; if she was in for a penny she was in for a pound, and she wasn’t backing out. Her political appointee pansy boss had never seen Saturday night in the “Ward” where she grew up, and verbal threats like his rolled off her back like water off a frog’s ass. It didn’t matter what it took. She and the others were going to help Storm solve the killings.

  Before she obeyed her orders she had just enough time to examine Peggy’s body and find the evidence she needed. No orders from her shithead boss, or for that matter the Mayor’s office, were going to deter her. Politics were one thing, but solving a murder was another, and the latter was what she was all about. Now it was time to share her findings with “Storm’s Troopers,” as she had begun calling the detective’s team, and she texted a request for a meeting to each of them. She hid the records of her tests and the resulting findings and waited for 6:00 PM to come so she could meet with the other four.

  By the time the team assembled Alisha had a lot more than speculation about the killer and whether the deaths were connected and she could hardly wait to drop the bomb. “Guys, we’ve all assumed we were looking for a killer who was male, right?” With all heads nodding positively, she continued, “Well, guess what? It’s not a man!”

  The others were caught off guard and it showed. “The skin under this latest victim’s fingernails tested positive for female DNA,” she continued.

  “No shit!” resounded around the room.

  “Yes,” said Alisha. “Peggy Wise’s killer was a woman.”

  “So, does that help us link her murder to the others?” asked Storm.

  “I think so. I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I’m close. Her throat was slit in the same manner and her anus was abused, so the M.O. is the same.”

  “Could it have been a copycat?” asked Grady.

  “It could be, but I don’t think so. She was sodomized just like the other girls and that fact is only known to the people in this room. My final report on Leslie has not been filed yet. I thought it would be better if only we five knew the whole truth,” answered Alisha.

  Storm took up the story from there. “The house was a mess. I figured it could have been the result of the fight, but the more I think about it, the more I think it looked as if the perp was looking for something,” said Storm.

  “I must say that although I think the killer was probably the same person, I don’t think this particular killing was part of the pattern. I think this killing was one of necessity,” said Alisha.

  “What do you mean by that?” asked Hernandez

  “It’s the crime scene and the aftermath. Although the method was the same, the scene isn’t. The victim was only naked from the waist down. There was no cleanup of the crime scene. The body wasn’t moved or dumped. This was hurried, not planned. This was a killing of necessity.” Alisha beamed like a kid on Christmas morning.

  “You found her, Storm. Did you see anything weird or out of the ordinary at her house?” asked Alisha.

  “No, nothing that jumps out at me except like I said, it looked like the perp was searching for something, and, of course, unlike the others, there was blood everywhere.”

  “Tell me again what you saw. Think about it. Go slow. Visualize everything,” Alisha instructed him.

  “I saw her lying on the floor of her bedroom, naked from the waist down, and there was blood everywhere.” Storm slowly re-enacted his discovery of Peggy’s body.

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes. It looked like someone had written something with her blood, maybe with a finger, but the letters were smeared. Maybe it was the perp leaving his calling card, his initials maybe. I am not sure Ms. Wise would have been able to write anything but I remember thinking one letter looked like a C or a G and the last letter could have been a B or a P, but I won’t swear to it. Crime scene photos give a perspective that the naked eyes misses but again I don’t know.”

  “Her hand was covered in blood, so she could have been writing anything,” said Alisha. “Did you look through her house?”

  “A little, but of course I was trying to preserve the crime scene till the forensics guys and the M.E. could get there. I wanted that scene sealed,” said Storm. “Like I said, the house was a mess; chairs turned over, papers all over the floor, and at first blush I assumed it was from the fight.”

  “If the killer was searching the house they might not have found whatever it was, though obviously it was worth killing for if they were in fact looking for something,” Russell commented.

  “I’m going back to her house,” said Storm. “Pancho, I want you to get back into those files if you still have copies and call anyo
ne who might have known any of the other five girls that I haven’t contacted yet to see if you can turn up any new leads or connections. Did they have boyfriends? Did they volunteer at the Show? Is there anything to connecting them to other people at the Show or to one another? The rest of you keep your heads down and your ears to the ground.”

  “Did she have her shoes on?” asked Hernandez.

  “Truthfully I don’t remember, but when we get the pictures from the crime scene we can see,” replied Storm.

  “There were no shoes to inventory with what she was wearing when we got the body,” Alisha commented.

  “No, but I will look around when I go back to her house,” said Storm.

  Hernandez nodded, as did the others. They were all in agreement, and no more needed to be said.

  “If the killer is a woman, doesn’t that throw Ellen Dresden back to the top of the listed?” asked Hernandez.

  “It would have if I hadn’t reread Sunday’s paper,” said Grady. “Ellen was, according to the Houston paper, out of town at a Rodeo charitable women’s fashion show in Austin on Saturday with at least twenty other rodeo matrons. The fashion show didn’t end until after midnight Saturday night, so if she killed Leslie she made the trip back in less time than anybody can drive that distance.”

  Storm just shook his head. It was a break to know Peggy’s killer was a woman, but now their best suspect had an airtight alibi.

  They all left convinced they had an eighth victim. They had bought into Alisha’s theory this was most likely a killing of necessity. This was not a random or copycat murder—there had to be a connection to the other seven homicides.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The Big Reveal

  Early the next morning Alisha reviewed the records again. Traces of female DNA were definitely under Peggy’s fingernails. She had fought back, so the killer would have fresh scratches somewhere on her body. She also found a record of a short length of blue thread on the body, so she photographed it, scanned it, and typed its color and characteristics into the computer to see if a match would come back. The preliminary match identified it as consistent with the thread used in sewing together pieces of shirt weight fabric, and she recognized its color right away as the color and type used in manufacturing uniforms. Would this small and possibly insignificant detail mean anything or raise any red flags with her team?