Murder on Edwards Bay (The Maude Rogers Crime Novels Book 2)

by Linda L. Dunlap

  The cab was upside down, the door and window glass splintered or broken out of the frames, smoke was coming off the motor and water was pouring from the radiator. Maude looked for movement from the car but there was none that she could see in the darkness.

  “Joe you got a flashlight?” She whispered.

  “No Maude, I don’t carry one on my blue jeans off duty. Lucky I have my weapon.”

  “Okay, you take the left side of the car, and I’ll come up behind on the opposite side.”

  “Right Maude, got it.”

  Weapons readied, the detectives used the darkness to approach the cab, looking inside the front and the back. The cab driver lay still on the ceiling, his neck apparently broken, the seatbelt undone and hanging from the seat. There were no signs of passengers in the back of the cab.

  “Joe, we’ve been had. Thomas and the woman got out of the vehicle some time ago. I wonder what happened to wreck the cab.”

  “Looks like he might have been asleep, went off the road, flipped the car.”

  “Stinking scumbag might have helped him off into dreamland just to have a little fun with the cops.”

  “Maude, he keeps coming up from the piles of crap smelling like a rose. Without the coroner’s report on the cabbie, we have nothing on Leroy Thomas other than he’s an ass. I hope that girl knew what she was getting into with him.”

  “I figure she learned pretty quickly, but he wouldn’t let her get away. She may have had some mysterious accident too.”

  “I’m beginning to wonder why he ran. We had nothing on him, unless he was afraid we might find something at the Spillars that would lead back to him.

  “Dangdest thing, this cabbie dying; poor man, he was just doing a job.” Maude felt badly for him; it never made sense how evil people could cause such havoc for the rest.

  “Guess the devil started it all when he decided he was too pretty to be a regular angel. Been killing and maiming the innocent ever since.”

  Chapter 17

  Emergency personnel came quickly and claimed the body of the cab driver after the coroner had ruled him dead. A couple of crime scene technicians were there gathering information about the crash, and Maude recognized them from the scene of the Spillar’s murders. They nodded their hellos, but none stayed long after determining the crash was straightforward: there was nothing to report except the slick roads from the evening’s mist had caused the driver to lose control of his car.

  Maude and Joe loaded up in her truck once more, and headed for the Sheriff’s Office, not content to wait until morning to see the lab findings on the semen in the girl and the lead and casings from the Spillar’s house. First came the one that mattered most-the reports on the female victim. The findings were consistent with the DNA testing that had been earlier on Wojo, they matched. It seemed to be proof-positive that not only did the maintenance man steal from the victims, he raped and killed the girl. The news should have been great but it was a blow to the two detectives investigating the murders.

  Maude was exhausted and told Joe she was headed to the motel, and if he wanted to go, he could, but otherwise, he would have to get a ride back on his own. Joe asked if she was going to stop and eat. Maude thought about the last time she saw food, the bowl of popcorn at the Water Dog was all she had tasted since breakfast. It was almost 1:30 A.M., too late for dinner, too early for breakfast.

  “No, I may get some of those chocolate donuts from the office vending machine, but I don’t want to eat anything heavy this late. Besides, my stomach is messed up from all this murder and violence. Makes me wonder how I got into this line of work anyway. Women are supposed to be the gentler sex, raising kids and being a wife. Seems all I do is raise hell and stay married to a job. Danged Wojo. He had me fooled.”

  “Me too, Partner, and I spent some years profiling criminals. Wojo doesn’t fit the pattern, besides I thought you said Spillar didn’t recognize him?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I said. You staying or going? I have to get out of this truck and into a bed.”

  “I’m going. Nothing here to keep me interested. Say Maude, would you mind if I spent a little time with your niece? She seemed to trust me after that incident and it makes me feel good to have a woman believe in me. My wife used to trust me, then she quit. Said I was welded to the job. Mostly I think she never loved me.”

  “Joe, Lilly Ann is a lucky girl to have you interested in her. No, I don’t mind a bit, but understand, I won’t be your gossip girl or go-between. You have to make it on your own.”

  “No problem.” Joe was happy at the thought of Lilly Ann. Her helplessness after being abducted had really made an impression on him. She had turned to Joe, leaning on him for strength. He had dated another girl in Madison for a while, but one thing led to another, and they lost contact. Nobody’s fault, really. But he was lonely and needed someone in his life again. Maybe it wouldn’t be Lilly Ann, but maybe it would. For right then, Joe was content with a dating opportunity. She lived a long way from Madison, but maybe when her schooling was over, they could find some time for one another.

  Maude drove the truck home, watching for the bald polecat. She knew he had played her, and he must have really enjoyed doing it. She wouldn’t underestimate him again. She drove by the Water Dog, but the parking lot was empty. The van was long gone.

  Joe looked across the parking lot of the bar, remembering where the big man had parked the van. The empty slot made him mad, really mad. They had let the big man get away. He looked across the truck at Maude and said, “What do you bet he’s left town?”

  “If it was a bet, I’d say a buck on him still being here. He isn’t scared of us.”

  “You don’t believe Wojo is the killer, do you?”

  “I don’t know. The DNA evidence against him doesn’t lie, but my gut tells me one of our killers is that big man named Leroy Thomas, and he’s not working alone in his strategy. Maybe he and Wojo are part of the same killing crew. If we can get in that van, we might find something to use against him. As things go now, he has a record, but we have no evidence against him and can’t legally search his vehicle.”

  “Aren’t there statutes that insist new owners of vehicles must register them in their own name?”

  “There are, Joe, there are. Also, because the alleged owner is out of town, we can legally protect a citizen’s property rights. We can ask Leroy Thomas to let us see the owner’s authorization to drivers of the van. If he doesn’t have it, we can search the van as a possible stolen vehicle. Sounds like a job for Ernest Garrison. We need to call Sheriff Jack in the morning and get his agreement.”

  When the detectives arrived at the motel, the white van was parked in the lot; it’s outside unchanged by traffic mishaps. A good drunk driver crash would have been too much to ask.

  “Right now, Joe, I’m going to call Jack then my bed is going to feel my backside. Bring me coffee when you come to the door, or don’t come over.”

  “Okay, Maude.” Joe said in the middle of a yawn. “Good night.”

  Morning came too quickly. She woke feeling stiff and sore, her knees aching from the activities of the night before, the pain in random joints a reminder of her age. Each time the notion hit her to retire before being eligible for Social Security and her pension from the City of Madison, the thought of working elsewhere became depressing. She didn’t know anything else, and she was good at her job. Thank God for ibuprofen and other over the counter pain killers.

  Jack had been in agreement with sending Ernest to approach the van driver. He added that Ray Black could ride along since the driver was such a big man and a known misdemeanant. Jack was going to be in the office most of the day and could take care of the phone calls and requests from citizens-he would be there if anything went down.

  She checked her cell phone for missed calls, and found two. One was from her friend Alice in the communications section at work, and the other was from Lieutenant Patterson, wanting to know when she and Joe would be back. He said that two
or three days were all he could give them then they had to come back. Maude grimaced, understanding, but not liking the pressure. She figured to wait and tell Jack the next day to give him an extra day of rest.

  Calling Alice served two purposes, she missed seeing her friend and her friend could bring her up to speed on the recent events. The woman in dispatch who answered the phone told Maude that Alice was off for the day with a newborn grandchild but would be back the next day. Maude sighed and ended the call, planning to call the next day.

  The abduction of Lilly Ann was heavy on her mind. There was just no sense of purpose in it. The girl wasn’t injured or sexually assaulted nor was she particularly hard to find. The whole kidnapping seemed more like an adolescent or child’s prank to get attention. A small rumbling had begun in Maude’s lower tract, the reaction to anxiety not full upon her, just tickling the edges of her awareness. She quickly dismissed the thoughts that had begun, refusing to anticipate more trouble. Lilly Ann had wondered if maybe one of her old boyfriends who carried a torch had arranged the whole incident. Maude’s stomach settled as she decided to believe as her niece did.

  Jack was in his office, working on the backlog of documents accumulated during his absence. He raised his head and gave Maude a smile, indicating she should sit and talk. Joe grabbed the spare chair and leaned back, chewing on a toothpick from Denny’s. The sheriff’s attitude was much better than when Joe had first met him in the hospital; the pain in his shoulder had become a ghost, visiting during the night hours, waking him from sleep.

  There was noise from the holding cells in the rear of the building, some clanking of doors and a loud bam that Maude attributed to the big man Leroy Thomas’s work.

  “What’s he hitting?” She wasn’t really concerned, but thought it polite to ask.

  Jack smiled at her, indicating by his hand movements that it was nothing she should be concerned about. “He’ll grow weary soon. Funny thing about big men-they don’t like small spaces. We have often listened to the like of Mr. Thomas in the throes of defiant expression.”

  “I take it he had no authorization, and you are holding him until he can prove that he didn’t steal that piece of crap van?”

  “Uh-huh, although, Mr. Thomas has a little more to worry about. He has to talk himself out of the one ounce bag of marihuana we found under the floor mat. Funny, he’s damned if he does, and damned if he doesn’t, pardon the old adage, but if he says the dope belongs to someone else, then he must have stolen the van from the rightful driver, however, if he says he has authorization from the owner then he lays claim to the dope. It is a conundrum for Mr. Thomas.”

  Maude laughed for a minute then sobered. “Jack, I think he’s the shooter, the one who killed the Spillars, and at least one of the victims on Edwards Bay.”

  “But, what about this guy Wojohoitz? The lab found his semen in that woman. It puts him there. Not only did he have opportunity on his day off work, he also had motive to steal their possessions.”

  “True, but there’s no violence in his jacket, nothing except a theft conviction. No sexual or other assaults. Also, I told you about running him by Spillar. They had never seen each other.”

  “Maude, I’m an old timer, grew up in law enforcement, learned most of what I know from watching, and being amazed at the evil in people. I also learned to respect the instincts of a fellow officer of the law who had that pinging in his head that told him something wasn’t right. Now, I am no longer amazed at any evil the human mind can come up with, but I still trust the judgment of a good cop.”

  “Thank you, Jack. That’s refreshing.”

  Joe had been silent up to then, listening to the conversation. “You folks know I’m new at this game, but I spent a lot of time working with profilers sent to us by the Feds, and from what I’ve studied about ritual murders such as the woman’s pony tail ripped off and left hanging on a tree, that fellow Wojo doesn’t have the stuff to make that happen. The killing and raping of the victim was awful, but the ponytail had a significance that goes beyond brutality. The killer was sending a message of humiliation, either from himself or from someone who hired him. My thought is: Thomas is a hired gun, thinks he’s brilliant. He has a tough façade but behind it, he’s the typical bully, scared of making a mistake and getting his butt whipped. So he was following orders when he killed the girl.”

  Jack looked at Maude who shrugged her shoulders. “Son, he said, you don’t say much most of the time, but when you do have a mouthful trying to get out, a fellow could benefit from listening.”

  “I believe he means you may have a point, Joe.”

  “Thanks. To further load your ears, if we can hold this man long enough, someone may try to get him out of jail, or they’ll try to kill him to shut him up. We might be able to use that to get him to talk.”

  “So charge him with as much as we can, you think?” Jack asked.

  “Yes Sir, I think so.” Joe said, sitting back against his chair, content to listen.

  “Then we shall have to do just that,” Jack said.

  Sitting in jail had never been Leroy Thomas’s favorite thing to do. In fact, the last time he was locked-up he nearly went nuts trying to get out. He wasn’t sure what they had on him, some b.s. about his van not belonging to him. The dumb deputy that arrested him was out patrolling and saw the van parked at the restaurant. He noticed the tags were out of date and wanted to give him a ticket for it, but there was a problem in the ownership so here he was in lock-up while the dumb-ass deputy tried to figure his butt from a hole in the ground.

  The van wouldn’t give them anything to hold him for, it was clean. He had picked it up the night before and hauled that little blonde around. She was a real loser. Knew how to service men but didn’t understand her right from left. She was on her knees on the floor for a while and when the cop came, she jumped up and tried to get out of the van, but the door was locked.

  Parked in front of the fast food joint could have been more than embarrassing for both of them if the cops had seen what she was doing down there. As it was, they could imagine but couldn’t prove anything. The dumb deputy said the girl could go since she was a passenger and lived in town, but he told her he had his suspicions about the way she made her living.

  What none but the girl (and especially not Leroy) knew was when she was on the floor and cops were on the way, she tucked her good-sized baggie of Hawaiian Gold Marijuana under the floor mat.

  They tried to be tough, both of the A-hole deputies, talking big being together, but they didn’t know who they were messing with-no one ever got the best of Leroy Thomas. Theirs would come.

  Sitting on the hard mattress Leroy went through his memorized phone list but most of the numbers were for hookers or men wanting to get in his business. Only one name was taboo and you can bet he wouldn’t ever get that confused with the others.

  There was a lawyer he once knew lived around the lake, met him at a gun show buying a little old thirty-eight special for his wife. Lawyer was a sleaze, but he had given him a business card. If only he could think of the shysters name. Boggs, yeah, Boggs was it. Ben Boggs. The jailer must have a phone book, he could look him up.

  “Hey jailer, come here. Guard, come here, I want my phone call. I got a right to a phone call.” Leroy was getting loud and he knew how his big voice carried. Scare them some-make them sit up straight, listen to a man.

  “Sure Leroy. Be right there, but you get just one call. Sure you want to waste it before you know if we intend to hold you? You know you said it was all a mistake.” Dumb Ernest, that was his name. Stupid hick.

  “Okay, but what about some food. You got me early and my stomach’s empty. At least you can feed a man,” he yelled.

  “Yes Sir, Leroy. We have a little old sack lunch for you, but you been making a lot of noise back here, so it might be a while, that is unless you can be a little quieter and let me get through this paperwork, then I can find where they keep the bags.” Ernest was definitely the bottom of the barr
el as far as lawmen were concerned, but he’s in my control, Leroy thought.

  Think I’ll wait till tomorrow to get that lawyer. Might waste a call.

  “Alright, the big man said, I’ll make it quieter because I’m going to be napping back here. Don’t wake me up except when you bring me that sack lunch.”

  “Yes Sir, I will be real careful to do that.” Ernest said, grinning to himself. Maybe he was good at working in the jail after all. Playing dumb was a game that inmates usually got over on lawmen. Seemed fitting that he had turned the tables.”

  Chapter 18

  Theopoles Wojohoitz had been called many names in his life: stupid brat, stinking kid, dumb Cajun, and S.O.B. were some, but he had never been called or thought of as a murderer. It took him by surprise when the policeman came and gave him the paper that began, ‘Greetings from the State of Texas’, then went on to say he was being charged with the felonious and brutal rape and murder of Jenny Marx. Wojo, as the lady cop had called him, felt the insult in his bones; that someone would think he could do murder, or keep himself in an erect state long enough to rape someone was terrible. His wife had complained about that problem just before she ran off with another man.

  He asked to speak to Detective Rogers, hoping to get her to listen to his story again and help him find a way out of the mess. He was sitting in a locked cell with no company, just a loud, mean man in the next cell and tried to think what he could do since he had no money for a lawyer.

  Detective Rogers had one of the deputies take Wojo out of the cell into a room with a real bathroom to use, plus she brought him a cup of hot coffee and let him sit down at the table with her.

  “Tell me Wojo, what is it I can do for you?” Maude asked him.

  “Ma’am, I didn’t kill nobody, and I didn’t have no sex with but one woman and that was the cleaning girl, you know, Perla. You remember her?”

  “I do, Wojo. I remember her.”

  “Well, what can I do to prove I didn’t have nothing to do with that murder, because it’s a mighty bad feeling, being charged with a crime I didn’t do. I know I stole those things, but I didn’t do no murder and that’s the truth.”