"I can't believe anyone local, especially relatives and friends, had anything to do with killing all three of those unrelated victims. There's got to be something bigger at play here."
"I agree. A common thread has to tie them together. We just need to find it."
Kate answered her phone to read a text from Deline. "I have a meeting scheduled tomorrow morning with Ms. Estes' boyfriend, Jeremy Austin."
The car surged ahead as Carter passed a vehicle running at the speed limit on the two-lane highway as he said, "Tomorrow, if you'll interview the boyfriend, I'll try to arrange a meeting with Evelyn's coworkers after lunch. If that works, we can drive there separately for the interview and then afterward meet someplace for supper."
Carter turned off the short, steeply winding Clifton Terrace Road onto the Great River Road toward Alton. They were mere yards from the mighty Mississippi River at the lake behind Lock and Dam #26. The water was calm with only minor wind-driven ripples disturbing the surface. On a sandbar toward the middle of the river, a flock of hundreds of white birds squatted in the sand. Egrets Kate supposed. Another large flock made a single glaring splash of white against the river bank on the Missouri side. Downstream, several towboats were anchored near the riprapped bank waiting their turn to pass through the locks beside the long concrete dam.
"Deal. Then we'll tackle her friends together and gauge their body English as they answer. If anyone saw all aspects of her personality, they as a collective group should have." She leaned forward to gaze upward and to the left through the windshield. "Look, up there near the top of that bluff. There's a white painted cross in that stand of trees." The car accelerated to seventy MPH in a fifty-five MPH speed zone. "In the morning, I can ask Deline to check the past schedules of all three victims to learn if they could have crossed paths any place else in the last year. St. Louis may have been the only time they were in the same city at the same time. That could nail down why the male victims were abducted there."
They were both silent for a time. Kate interrupted the reverie. "I started reading one of Deline's romance novels two nights ago. Wow! It was too risqué for me. Half way through, I deleted it from my Kindle. That woman has quite an imagination, or she's far more sexually experienced than I am."
Carter laughed. "Would you call it girly porn?"
"That is probably as good a description as any."
"As for your experience level, you taught me a few new tricks in bed."
Kate slapped his thigh and gave him a feigned dirty look. "You realize people go to hell for lying, do you not? I learned more about sex since meeting you than in the previous thirty years."
Carter smirked. "Aren't you one lucky girl?"
"Truthfully, yes I am. I love you, Big Guy.
Carter patted her thigh. "Me too, Kate. I'm thankful to have found you."
"Hold that thought, Carter. After dinner, I look forward to putting your teaching into play. Again."
Chapter Four
Carter entered the St. Louis Police Headquarters at nine the following morning for his scheduled meeting with Captain Harlee Davis of the Homicide Division. After a short wait, he was escorted to her office by an older officer with a gimpy right leg that caused him to lurch from side to side as he walked. When Carter entered the office through an open door, he noted Capt. Davis was stout, not fat, not slender, in her late thirties or early forties, with short dark brown to almost black hair and brown eyes. Her skin was a pecan shade, and on a scale of one to ten she was a point shy of being a really attractive Hispanic lady.
After introductions, he passed her several of his and Kate's business cards. While she studied the cards, he studied the space. The captain's office was small. Her flimsy government-issue metal desk took up a quarter of the room, and three file cabinets and two guests chairs sucked up most of the remaining floor space. Scraped, scuffed and peeling pale blue paint covered the walls and ceiling, and badly worn gray vinyl tile squares covered the floor.
He opened the conversation when she looked up. "My partner and I have recently opened our office in St. Louis and have accepted our first significant case. We're investigating the murders tagged by the media as ‘The Three Monkeys.’"
Capt. Davis squinted at him above pursed lips but remained silent.
"We’d like to establish a working relationship with your office so we can share information as we uncover it. We've just started our investigation, so we don't have anything right now."
She smiled under raised eyelids. "And I assume you would like my department to initiate the sharing first by offering our case file."
"You got me. Honestly, that was in the back of my mind and part of why I contacted you, but in addition, I'd really like to have an open relationship with your office so we can get to know and trust each other."
"I respect your honesty, Mr. Johnson." She extended her own cards. "You can review a copy of our file here and ask for copies of anything you find pertinent. Lt. Altmon will arrange for copies if none are classified. There's not much in it, but I trust you will hold it in strict confidence anyway?" He nodded his agreement. "Within reason, I'll commit to help your investigation if we can, but we'll not do your work for you.”
They sparred for another five minutes. When the conversation played out, he left.
From his cell phone, Jeremy Austin confirmed his meeting with Kate at ten a.m. at a coffee shop near his workplace. They exchanged brief descriptions of themselves before signing off.
At a quarter of ten she drove past the storage yards beside and behind the main office, fabrication shops and storage sheds of Midwest Metals Supply. Large quantities of flat steel plate, angle iron, flat bar, beams, culverts, highway guard rails, and lengths of reinforcing rod of all diameters covered the white graveled, weed-infested grounds. A fleet of forklifts scurried back and forth like hyperactive fire ants between racks, pallets and flatbed trailers loading or offloading materials. She noted the high number of sodium vapor floodlights on poles overlooking the yard.
The aged orange and brown motif of the nondescript coffee house didn't instill a desire to eat there. The sun was up and shining brightly against the grease-hazed windows when Jeremy Austin entered through the single glass door at ten minutes past ten. Kate judged Jeremy was five feet ten or eleven, two hundred thirty pounds, blond, pale skinned, and forgettable. He smiled wanly and waved weakly when he recognized her and moved toward her booth at the back of the room. The space was noisy. All of the booths and tables except two near the entrance had customers sitting. Most read newspapers or flipped through their cellphone screens.
For their coffee shop meeting, she had chosen designer jeans, a dressy yellow tee and a light-weight fire orange cloth jacket. A short, cherry color amber necklace graced her neck.
A frumpy waitress wearing a threadbare orange uniform dress under a soiled brown apron appeared with thick, tan plastic cups and a copper and black pot of hot coffee. She pushed her disheveled hair away from her chubby, pleasant face as she took Jeremy's order for three glazed donuts. Jeremy was apparently a frequent customer because she smiled and called him by name. Kate settled for the strong, black coffee, poured for her and Jeremy, and wondered if a metal spoon might float on its surface.
After introductions and small talk, Kate asked, "Now that you've had time to think about it, do you have insight as to who might have wanted to harm Evelyn?"
"No, ma’am. So far as I know everybody liked her. I've racked my brain to remember if she'd mentioned either of those men who were killed with her." He shook his head vigorously. "Never heard her talk about either of them, I'm sure."
Two minutes into their conversation, Kate asked about the depth of his relationship with Evelyn Estes.
He glanced down at his coffee cup with a sheepish expression. "We'd been going together a little longer than five months." He looked up. "I was about to move out and end our hookup. She wanted to get married and I didn't. Still don't. I procrastinated because I knew she'd be hurt and have hard
feelings about being dumped. During the time we dated, I'd learned she was truly a good person, but I didn't love her. I liked her and enjoyed our time together, but it was time to move on."
Kate could not argue with that reasoning. "I saw large racks of steel rebar stored in the yard at Midwest. How difficult would it be to pilfer pieces from there and it not be missed?"
Jeremy leaned forward and spoke softly like a coconspirator. "That would be simple; the material management system would never catch small shortages. It happens all the time." He suddenly straightened and flipped his torso against the seatback. His eyes opened wide. With increased volume, he declared, "You think I stole rebar and killed Evelyn and those two men with it? No way. I could never do something like that." People at adjacent booths and tables stopped talking and stared.
Kate ignored the nosey neighbors and raised her palms toward Jeremy. "Relax, after talking to you, I don't think you're capable of doing it either. But could an outsider enter the storage area during off hours and steal lengths of rod without it being noticed? I counted a large number of light fixtures around and in the yard." The hum of adjacent conversations gradually returned to their original volume, but two people continued to stare at them curiously. The waitress brought a fresh pot of coffee.
He squinted in deep thought before he spoke. "That might be possible. There are seven fixed cameras in the yard, but they mainly cover the three gates and several main aisles. A lone person, or more I guess, could reach the rebar racks, cut the twenty-foot lengths to manageable pieces and carry them away without being noticed." He spoke softly, "Do you think the rebar used to, you know, do that to Evelyn and the others came from Midwest?"
Kate shook her head. "No, I have no idea where it came from. Do you know if most of the other supply yards are run about the same as Midwest?"
"I can't speak to all of them, but I worked at Donegal's Steel and St. Louis Supply before I moved to Midwest; their operations are pretty much carbon copies of each other with only minor differences. Most of the steel is too heavy and bulky to steal by hand; you'd need trucks and equipment to load them if there was a major theft. That's what they aim to prevent with the cameras and lights."
Kate thanked him for his time and stood to leave. Jeremy insisted on paying for the coffee and donuts before they parted, so Kate tipped the waitress. She left more than she deemed necessary because the woman was friendly and attentive.
Over dinner later that evening, the detectives rehashed their meeting with Diocesan Bishop Herman Manning and Anthony Mizell, the Rector at St. Joseph's Episcopal Church in St. Louis. Reverend Mizell had recently been elevated to the church rector position to replace Ms. Estes. He'd served as her assistant for two years prior to her death.
Carter sipped from his water glass before saying, "I was surprised at the differing opinions of Ms. Estes between Manning and Mizell. Manning practically placed her on a pedestal, but Mizell hinted at some subtle weaknesses in her management style. He didn't stab her in the back, but it was clear he didn't agree with her choice of direction."
"Not only her management style but her outlook on the symbolism at St. Joseph's. There clearly was a difference in their preference of management styles. While Manning was being politically correct and covering for her, Mizell pointed out that she had begun to move away from the more formal High Church ceremonies to the relatively informal Low Church or traditional Protestant services. It sounded as if she had reached the Broad Church liturgy, sort of like a middle ground between High and Low."
"Wow!" Carter exclaimed. "When did you become an expert on the Episcopal Church?"
Cockily she replied, "When we hired Deline. I had her do the research. She summarized the information down to one-half page and made it simple to understand."
"She's something." He smiled mischievously." Now if she just doesn't turn on us and send both of us to prison. Seriously, it's a good thing you did the research because initially I was lost with all that high and low crap. Apparently, the good Rector Mizell aims to restore the High Church symbolism now that he's running the show."
"That was my take on it, too."
Kate watched for their waiter to appear. His tip was getting smaller by the minute as he procrastinated while standing behind a partition screen to hit on an attractive waitress. "However, even if there was disagreement about redefining the direction Estes was taking, it doesn't help our investigation because there were no indicators that Mizell resented the changes enough to murder her over her choices. We are still where we started."
The waiter finally appeared, laid the check in front of Carter, then turned away without a thank you or any greeting. "Kate, the key to these murders is still the link tying the three victims together. Until we discover that, we're chasing our tails with these individual interviews. But for now, they're all we have and they need to be done for a thorough investigation."
She nodded sourly. "I agree. You pay the bill. The tip is mine." She grudgingly tossed two one dollar bills onto the table, a pittance of what she would normally leave for good service at a decent eatery.
Kate's cell phone vibrated as she stood to leave. She had a text message. "Deline looked into the victims’ past year's schedules. There was no common location where their paths crossed before St. Louis. It appears St. Louis was simply a location dictated by opportunity."
As they exited the noisy Texas Roadhouse while the wait staff did a line dance, she received another text message. "Deline has the first half of Evelyn's close friends scheduled for interviews starting tomorrow morning and hopes to have the remainder scheduled before ten tomorrow morning."
Carter embraced Kate and they kissed. "It's a good thing she's paid on salary because she chooses to work far more than the standard work week."
Kate looked thoughtful. "We can make it up to her with a generous Christmas bonus."
Carter chortled mischievously. "More than the two-dollar tip I hope."
"Only if she keeps up the good work, smartass."
Over the next two days, the detectives crisscrossed the St. Louis area and made two forays across the Poplar Street Bridge, over the Mississippi River, into Illinois conducting interviews. The consensus opinion was that Evelyn Estes was intelligent, caring, outgoing, outspoken, ambitious, highly motivated, extremely liberal on social issues, pleased with herself and happy with her lifestyle. Two of her closest girlfriends were irritated that Jeremy Austin was seeing another woman within four weeks of Evelyn's death.
Kate told Carter, "He may have been seeing the new girlfriend before that since he was gathering his nerve to split from Evelyn anyway. He could have been double-timing her for months before her death. But that doesn't make him a triple-murderer. A cheating scumbag perhaps, but not a murderer."
Heat lightning silently flashed across the horizon to the west the next evening. Carter noted, "A storm is brewing, probably fifty miles away. Looks like it should hit here about eight o'clock."
"What, you're a meteorologist now?"
"No, I watched the evening weather forecast while you prepared supper." He laughed as Kate cursed and punched his right shoulder with her fist. "The weatherman also said we're getting above average rainfall this year; that's why the crops and lawns still look lush this late in the summer."
Kate stared out the window as he drove. "I've noticed when we drive through the rural areas that the vegetable gardens are beautiful. At the ones near the road, you can see abundant produce. I'd like to try my hand at raising vegetables someday, wouldn't you?"
"No thanks. My mom forced me to help in the garden when I was young; I hated it. If God wanted me to be a gardener, he wouldn't have invented grocery stores."
"Your mother must have been a very patient woman."
"Not really. She took a thick switch to my bottom to encourage me to help in the garden and do other chores she assigned and I ignored."
"If you keep forgetting to take the garbage down to the trash cans, you'll force me to cut a thick switch from the neig
hbor's tree."
His head jerked to the right to find Kate stifling a grin.
He shook his head and snorted as he drove the Charger cautiously through the notoriously rough north-side neighborhood they'd entered. They were sightseeing – learning their way around all the areas of their newly adopted hometown. The homes on the street they travelled were mostly rundown with occasional structures abandoned and boarded up or showing damage from fires. Debris and junk cars littered untended yards. Children played around, on and in the abandoned vehicles while small groups of people of various races idly mingled. In the warm temperature and high humidity, some drank from bottles in brown paper sacks while others defiantly drank in the open straight from beer cans or liquor bottles. Most turned to the gleaming black Charger, drawn by the throaty growl of the tuned engine and twin custom exhaust system. Some stared with uncaring neutrality, some with hostility and a few, very few, smiled and gave weak waves with all of their fingers.
Past the next residential intersection, Carter could make out four or five adult men standing on the far-right corner under a street light that had just turned on. All appeared well-dressed in dress slacks and short sleeved shirts that buttoned down the front. A gleaming black 550 Mercedes-Benz sedan sat a few car lengths past the corner. A cream-colored car rounded the corner, stopped, and one of the men leaned down to the passenger window.
Carter got to the corner and made a hurried left turn. "It looks like a drug deal is going down right there in the open." They continued exploring that area of town for another quarter-hour.
The wind increased as a wave of heavy rain fell. Carter drove toward home on Highway 270 East. Suddenly, hail began to plummet the car. The noise sounded like hundreds of ball-peen hammers wielded by irate sheet metal workers on the hood, top and trunk of the three-and-a-half-year-old Charger. Carter pulled to the shoulder as the hail increased in size and looked like golf balls smashing against the sheet metal and glass. An even larger chunk of ice cracked the windshield seconds before the rear glass shattered and collapsed inward. Rain blew inside the car from the strong west wind. Kate laid her hand on Carter's shoulder as he thumped his forehead against the steering wheel in disbelief of the damage being done to his pride and joy.
The Three Monkeys, a Carter A. Johnson & Kate Menke Thriller Page 6