Skin in the Game

by D P Lyle

  “I know it. On Broadway.”

  “That’s it. I grabbed a pic of him and the girl. Her name’s Tonya, I think. Could be Tina. Something like that. Don’t know her last name. I’ll text the photo to you.”

  “Good job.”

  “Thanks. I feel like a spy.”

  “You are. But now I want you to back away. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Was it Adam? Did he kill Cindy?”

  “I don’t know. But I do think the trail to her killer goes through him. Nothing else makes sense.”

  “Then I want to help. I’ll do whatever you need.”

  “I know. And maybe I’ll need to call on you down the road. But right now, the best thing you can do is protect yourself. No way you want Adam and his friends knowing that you’re involved here. Okay?”

  “I guess so.”

  “No guessing. It’s a fact. Stay low to the ground. I don’t think it’ll happen, but if Adam reaches out to you, play dumb. You know nothing.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  His cell chimed an incoming text. The attached pic showed Adam Parker, coffee cup in one hand, the other waving as if making a point, chatting with a beautiful black girl.

  “Got the pic. Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  “I’ll call you if I have any more news.”

  CHAPTER 30

  They had nearly three hours to kill so Cain called Captain Lee Bradford.

  “Mister Cain,” Bradford said. “Looks like your missing young lady is now my murder investigation.”

  “Yours?”

  “She might have been found down in Moss Landing, but she went missing from my domain. So, yeah, mine.”

  “Have you talked with Chief Cutler?”

  “Sure did. And she welcomes our help.”

  “She’s a good cop,” Cain said. “Seems to me, anyway.”

  “She is.”

  “Anything new on your end?” Cain asked.

  “Maybe. Just got a call from the ME. Said he found something interesting.”

  “Like what?”

  “Don’t know yet. Getting ready to head over there right now.”

  “Mind if Harper and I join you?”

  “Sure. I don’t think Dr. Curry will mind.”

  “See you there.”

  “Oh, how’s General Kessler taking the news?” Bradford asked.

  “Not well. But he’s a tough guy. He and Miriam are both resilient.”

  “But this? I imagine it’s a bitter pill to swallow.”

  “True. See you in twenty.”

  Bradford was standing next to his car, phone to his ear, when Cain pulled into the lot and he and Harper stepped out. Bradford ended the call and they shook hands.

  “Thanks for letting us tag along,” Harper said.

  “You haven’t gotten by Curry yet.” He smiled.

  Dr. Walter Curry was in the autopsy lab, finishing another autopsy. The table behind him held a draped body. Cindy Grant, no doubt.

  “Mr. Cain, Ms. McCoy,” Curry said. “Good to see you again.”

  “Thanks for letting us be here.”

  Curry nodded. He waved toward the trapped corpse. “I’m afraid we found your missing girl.”

  “We saw,” Cain said. “At the scene.”

  “Then you know how odd this all is.”

  “Never seen anything like it.”

  Curry tugged off his gloves and gown. “Me either.” He slipped on fresh gloves and peeled the drape off Cindy’s corpse. “Yes, very odd. The tattooing. The displaying of the body. The decapitation.” He shook his head. “But there’s more.”

  “So I hear.”

  “We have two entry wounds. Here and here.”

  “And the bullets?” Bradford asked.

  “That’s the strange part. No bullets.”

  “I didn’t see any exit wounds,” Cain said.

  “Because there aren’t any.”

  “You saying he dug the bullets out?” Bradford said.

  “No evidence of that. The wounds are smooth and round. No evidence of any trauma like I’d expect if someone went rummaging around in there.”

  “Then, what?” Harper asked.

  “She wasn’t killed with a gun. No other explanation.” He frowned. “Bullets don’t typically evaporate.”

  “What are you saying?” Bradford asked.

  “These wounds are from some type of stabbing weapon. Maybe a spear or an arrow.”

  Interesting. Cain glanced at Harper. She was thinking the same thing. Hunters. Arrows. Martin Stenson. Or someone in his world.

  Cain examined the wounds. Now clean and easily visible under the harsh lights. “Not hunting arrows,” he said. “Too clean.”

  “True. Maybe target arrows. Maybe a metal spike. Something like that.”

  “I’d bet on arrows,” Cain said. “Her feet. Same injuries we saw on the other woman. The school teacher.”

  “Yes. Rose Sanders.” Curry looked at Cain. “Before, when I suggested she might have been running over rocky terrain, I wasn’t so sure.” He waved a hand. “But here there were no pigs involved. Hard to indict tusk injuries here. And again, I found small bits of limestone in the plantar wounds.”

  “Pre-mortem damage?” Harper asked.

  “Yes.” He waved a hand. “The head removal was post-mortem. No doubt.”

  As he had hoped. As he had told Kessler. Some small favors are huge.

  “They were both hunted,” Cain said.

  Curry nodded. “That’d be my guess.”

  “So you’re thinking Rose Sanders was a zebra and here we have a tiger?” Bradford said.

  “That’s what it looks like,” Cain said.

  “Jesus,” Bradford said. “This definitely connects the two cases. Women altered to look like exotic animals and hunted. What kind of person would do that?”

  “A narcissistic sociopath,” Harper said. “Power and control. A common combination in these types of killers. This guy creates his prey, hunts them, and then displays them. Like trophies.”

  “I’d bet he has the head somewhere,” Curry said. “A personal trophy.”

  “Maybe Sander’s head, too,” Bradford said.

  “Wouldn’t surprise me,” Curry added. “Don’t know that for sure since we didn’t find her head. Or neck.”

  “Rose Sanders wasn’t displayed,” Bradford said. “She was buried.”

  Cain walked to the other side of the table and looked down at Cindy. “Harper and I discussed this. Our thinking is that either she wasn’t a satisfactory result—not up to his standards—or maybe she somehow escaped before she was completed.”

  Curry’s brow furrowed. “That might explain it.”

  “If Sanders escaped, the killer lives in or around Moss Landing,” Cain said. “Probably not far from where she was buried.”

  “Unless he transported both from somewhere else,” Bradford said. “To confuse us.”

  Cain nodded. “Possible. But I don’t think so. He’s local. If Rose Sanders did escape, there would be no transporting involved. She was likely buried near where she died.”

  “Why do you think that?” Bradford asked.

  “Let’s say she got away and he had to hunt her down. Chased her into the woods. Killed her. Now he’s got a corpse to deal with. Maybe some distance from his lair. Not easy to carry a body very far.”

  “But he could have. In a vehicle,” Bradford said.

  Cain nodded. “Maybe. But the grave site seemed hurried. Not very deep. As if he had to make do with what he had. No shovels or anything like that. Which is why the grave was shallow and why the pigs found her.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Which means he’s working in that area,” Cain said.

  “Also,” Harper said, “he wants credit for his work. He would want to be near the chaos he created. Feel the tension that followed.”

  Bradford sighed. “I surely don’t envy Laura Cutler.”

  Cain and Harper we
re barely out of the parking lot when she said, “Do you think Martin Stenson could be the guy we’re looking for?”

  “Could be.”

  “Not how I read him. But then we only saw him for a few minutes.”

  “And bad guys don’t have ‘GUILTY’ tattooed on their faces.”

  “Tattooed? Interesting choice of words.”

  Cain shrugged.

  “Sounds like we’ll be back down there soon,” Harper said.

  “Sure does. As soon as we snare Adam and Carlos.”

  “Another interesting word choice.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Laura Cutler knew what was coming. No way to avoid it, so she steeled herself to face it head on. They were scared, they were concerned and confused, but mostly they were scared. Maybe she could tamp that down somewhat. She wasn’t optimistic. Only thing to do was to ride it out. It’s not like they were going to fire her. Were they?

  She met with the City Council in the Freeman Civic Center Building. Built and donated by Sam and Claire Freeman. Wealthy residents who no longer lived in Moss Landing. Or anywhere. They now resided in the nearby Pine Grove Cemetery, in the shadow of the same large oak tree where her father was buried. Heart attack, during her senior year of high school.

  Mayor Tom Mills had called a special session of the council so Cutler could “bring them up to date,” and waylay their fears. The former she could do; the latter, probably not. All eight council members were present. Something that rarely happened. Showed the depth of their concerns.

  She sat in a chair, a not very comfortable one, facing the members who were gathered in a semi-circle behind the curved table. The goose-necked microphones before each were flexed downward, like wilting sunflowers. Not needed today. No public presence. This was a private meeting.

  “Laura, thanks for coming in,” Mayor Tom Mills said.

  “Wish it were under better circumstances.”

  Tom nodded. “We all do. So tell us. What do you know so far?”

  She examined the expectant faces. “What’s said here doesn’t leave this room. Okay?”

  “Why?” Mills asked.

  “I think you’ll see when we’re finished.”

  He shrugged, as if to say, “We’ll see.”

  Cutler straightened her back. Took a breath. “We have two murders. Rose Sanders and now Cindy Grant. The granddaughter of General Kessler. It appears that each of them had been tattooed. With an animal design.”

  “What does that mean?” It was Noleen Jenkins asking. She owned a card shop in town and had been on the council for more than ten years. She had also been Cutler’s nemesis. The one that continually raised complaints, and always voted against a pay raise or new equipment for Cutler and her crew. And right now she had that look. The one that said she was on the warpath. Tight jaw, creased brow, and the barest hint of a smirk.

  Cutler wanted to shoot her.

  Probably not a good idea.

  “It’s a guess,” Cutler said. “At least in the Sanders case. But from the pictures Tom showed you, you can see that Cindy Grant was definitely tattooed as a tiger. I suspect Rose Sanders was a zebra. But since we didn’t find many remains that might not be the case.”

  “How were they killed?” Noleen asked.

  “It looks like Cindy was shot. Twice. In the back. With Rose, we don’t know. Both bodies are with the ME. Up in Nashville. Hopefully, he’ll be able to tell us more.”

  “Do you have any suspects?” Tom asked.

  Cutler shook her head. “Not yet. But it’s likely the killer is local.”

  Noleen jerked to attention. “Why do you think that?”

  “Both bodies were found here. One, a more or less local. The display at the Post Office. He’d have to know the town. Know when it was safe to do that.”

  Noleen nodded as if she actually agreed with Cutler. There was a first for everything.

  “Anything else?” Tom asked.

  Cutler shrugged. “Truth is we don’t know any more than that. But it’s early in our investigation. Hopefully we’ll have more in a day or so.”

  Tom nodded. “How do you think we should handle this? As far as the public is concerned?”

  “Let out as little as possible. We don’t want whoever did this to know what we have. And what we don’t have.”

  “Shouldn’t the public know?” Noleen said. “I mean, if someone is running around killing people they need to know.”

  Cutler knew this was coming. Knew she didn’t have a great answer either. “I agree. Mostly. If anyone asks I’d say that two people have been killed. That we don’t know why or even if they’re connected.” Noleen started to say something but Cutler went on. “Which is true. We don’t know that. We suspect it, but we don’t know.”

  “Aren’t you parsing words?” Wilbur Starling joined the conversation. He owned the hardware store in town. This was his first year on the council.

  “Maybe. But I think playing this close to vest—at least for now—is best.” Cutler searched the faces before her. She saw no real disagreement staring back. “Cindy Grant was the granddaughter of General William Kessler. You all know the name. Everyone knows the name. I’d like her identity to remain in this room.”

  “Why?” Wilbur again.

  “To prevent a media circus. It’s going to come out. Probably sooner rather than later, but every day it doesn’t gives us more time to look into this without having cameras following us around.”

  Mills nodded. “Any disagreement?” He scanned to his right and left. No one said anything. He tapped a pen against the tabletop. “Anything else?”

  “I wish I had more but that’s about it right now,” Cutler said.

  “What about this couple?” Noleen asked. “The ones with you at the barbecue? I heard they’re involved in the investigation. Is that true?”

  “No. Not really. They were hired by General Kessler to find his granddaughter. Now that they have, I suspect they’re work is done.”

  “You trust them to keep a lid on this?” Wilbur asked.

  “They seem to be seasoned investigators. I think they understand how these things work. Besides, if I understand them correctly, General Kessler wants this to remain quiet for as long as possible.”

  “So, they’re like P.I.s?” Noleen again.

  “Something like that. Maybe not licensed P.I.s. They do more personal investigations.”

  And a whole lot more apparently. She still wasn’t sure who or what Bobby Cain and Harper McCoy were. But the point was moot since she wouldn’t likely be seeing either of them again. No reason for them to venture back this way since they had found General Kessler’s granddaughter.

  She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Bobby Cain was an interesting man.

  CHAPTER 32

  Murphy’s was a just dive-y enough bar/restaurant on the north side of Lower Broadway, sandwiched between a Mexican restaurant and a popular music venue. Good drinks, good food, even had its own live music. Cain and Harper had been there many times. They walked the two blocks from their condo. It was just after four.

  The bar was only half-filled, mostly college kids, getting an early start on happy hour. More industrial than Irish, as the name might suggest, the walls were plain concrete and the ducts and electrical conduits lay exposed along the ceiling and walls. A long bar down one side, manned by three fast-moving bartenders, the main dining area a collection of twenty or so four-tops. In one corner, a guy sat on a stool and strummed a black lacquered Gibson acoustic and sang Country standards.

  Cain immediately saw Adam. At a corner table with the attractive black girl he had seen in Kelly’s photo. He had a laptop open, showing her something. No doubt his business plan. She was laughing and leaning in toward him. Adam was quite the charmer it seemed.

  Cain and Harper grabbed stools at the bar, ordered Stellas, and tried to melt in with the crowd while keeping inconspicuous tabs on Adam. Cain nursed the beer through the next twenty-five minutes until the girl checked her wa
tch, stood, and walked away.

  “Show time,” Cain said.

  As they had previously planned, Harper followed the girl out onto the street. To inform her that what she was getting into might not be a smart choice. Maybe alter her trajectory. Worth a shot.

  Cain waved the bartender over, paid the bill. He weaved through the tables to where Adam sat, busy with stuffing his laptop into a canvas messenger bag. Adam looked up.

  “Adam Parker?” Cain asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “William Faulkner.”

  “Like the author?”

  One point for Adam. “I get that a lot.”

  “What can I do for you, Mister Faulkner?”

  “Bill.” Cain sat. “I have a business proposition for you.”

  “What? Selling insurance?” He laughed.

  “Something more profitable.”

  “I like profit.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  “So what is it?” Adam asked.

  “Girls.”

  Obviously not what he expected. He visibly stiffened. “What does that mean?”

  “Open your laptop.” Cain nodded toward the bag.

  “Why?”

  “I want to show you something.”

  Adam hesitated, but curiosity won out. He pulled out the laptop and booted it.

  “What’s your email?” Cain asked. He slid his phone from his pocket. “I’ll send you a link. So you can see what I’m offering.”

  Again Adam hesitated but recited his address. Cain fired off the link. Adam opened it. One eyebrow went up. Hooked. Now to reel him in.

  “My group runs girls,” Cain said. “All over the country. Even a few overseas. I think we could do some work together.”

  Adam glanced around the room and then back to Cain. “I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

  “Good.” Cain smiled. “We like discretion. What I’m offering is to expand your inventory.”

  “Why would I need that?”

  “Money. For you and your partner.”

  Adam’s back stiffened. One corner of his left eye twitched. “I don’t have any partners.”

  “Look, I know about you and Carlos.”