Kill Them All (Drexel Pierce Book 2)

by Patrick Kanouse

  Drexel shook her hand. He nodded at Cheryl and looked back at the man. “Hello, Detective Drexel Pierce.”

  The man stood up, and Jeffrey said, “That’s my dear friend Zach. Zach Lucroy.”

  The detective nodded and turned his focus back to Whitney. “I’ve a photo of someone we’re looking at. I want to see if you recognize him. Okay?”

  Whitney nodded. He pulled out the picture of Marshall and gave it to her. Jeffrey walked behind her and looked. Zach stood up but stayed near the chair. Cheryl remained seated. Drexel looked around the room. On an antique table by the bay window looking out on the front yard, a dozen vases sat filled with flowers of all kinds and colors. The envelopes holding the small cards of condolences still perched on clear or white plastic tridents.

  “I don’t recognize him,” said Whitney, handing the photo to Cheryl.

  Jeffrey said, “I don’t either.” He sucked on his lower lip. “Is that the guy that did that to Brittany? Did he take her?”

  Drexel held up a hand. “We don’t know. We’re looking into him is all at this time.”

  Cheryl handed the photo to him, shaking her head. He walked the photo over to Zach, who did not know who it was either. Drexel said his good-byes. As he walked down the sidewalk, he heard the door open behind him. He stopped and saw Cheryl walking down the stairs. “Detective.”

  “Did you remember something?”

  She shook her head. “No. But I’d like to offer my services.”

  He gave her a quizzical look.

  “Whitney mentioned that some religious iconography was used by the killer.” She bit her lower lip. “Is that true?”

  He and Daniela had mentioned it to the Days but had not given any details. He nodded.

  “Well, perhaps I can help. A person with historical knowledge of, let’s say, the more fringe elements of Christianity—and other religions to some degree—might be helpful. Right?”

  “It would, probably. An FBI analyst is currently reviewing it, as well. I suspect she’ll use what was there to help develop a profile.”

  “If she knows what the symbols mean. Their history.”

  He squinted at her. “Let me think about it. I appreciate the offer.”

  She nodded once and turned around, walking back to the Days’ porch.

  He made his way back to the L. Daniela called while he was on the Red Line north to say Kyle was at the condo.

  * * *

  Kyle answered the door and let them in after seeing their badges. His condo had two bedrooms along with a large living room, dining room, and kitchen. The walls were a bright white. A black leather sofa with a matching recliner sat before a large-screen, wall-mounted TV. An Xbox One and several controllers were piled on an entertainment stand. Kyle stood at six-foot-three or -four. He had spiky, dark-blond hair and blue eyes. Broad shouldered with forearms ripped from weightlifting. He was a handsome man. One that Zora might have oohed and aahed over had she encountered him on the streets.

  Kyle gestured for them to sit before flopping himself down at one end of the couch. He picked up a Gatorade from the end table, took a drink, and set it down on a white napkin. Drexel sat on the opposite end of the couch, while Daniela sat in the recliner. The TV was paused on a game—a man talking to a robot. He reintroduced himself and Daniela and told Kyle why they were there.

  “Do you remember Jodi?” asked Drexel.

  Kyle rubbed his chin and leaned forward. “I recall a cop or two visiting me last year. So I remember her a bit, yes. But it’s been awhile. Did you find her? Is she okay?”

  “Unfortunately not. I’m sorry.”

  Kyle shook his head a couple of times and let out a heavy breath. “That’s awful.”

  “Was the night you had the date with her the only time you two met?”

  “Yeah. Never saw her before or after.”

  “Where did you go after?”

  “Home. Here. And all I’ve got is that a cab brought me home. I think one of the detectives checked it out.”

  “Did you notice anything strange that night?”

  “What do you mean?” Kyle clasped his hands together and rubbed them.

  “Any person that seemed out of place? Or did Jodi act weird? A car or van that didn’t belong?”

  Scratching his left wrist, Kyle shook his head. “Nothing. I mean—nothing I remember. Just any other night.” He bounced his head back and forth. “Well, other than. You know?”

  Drexel sighed. Daniela asked, “What was she like? Jodi.”

  “Nice enough. But not my type. I saw on her profile she was going to Honduras or Panama or somewhere around there. I thought, hey, here’s a girl that wants to hike, bungee jump, zip line, all that stuff. She just wanted to sit on a beach and read and drink.” He looked down at the floor. “Like I said, nice enough, but not my type.”

  Drexel gave him his card and told him to call if he remembered anything else. As he drove back to the station, he said, “That was a bust.”

  Daniela looked out the window. “It was.”

  In the conference room, he talked to the detectives who had spoken to Jodi’s co-workers and friends. All turned up nothing. Like Brittany, Jodi had disappeared.

  After the other detectives had left, leaving Drexel, Daniela, and Victor behind, the captain stood staring at the board of photos, names, and known timelines. His hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet. “You think it’s time to talk to your person of interest?”

  Daniela stretched her arms out. “Yeah. I’m not sure how much we can press him, but I don’t see us getting any more evidence than what we’ve got right now. That is, until we have more bodies.”

  “About that. No more packages yet,” said Drexel.

  Victor turned. “You think he’s out of bodies?”

  “Maybe? If he is, he’s hunting for more.”

  Victor said, “So let’s ask him to come in. If we show up with lights and unis, he might lawyer up immediately.” He waited for acknowledgment from Drexel before turning and walking back to his office.

  Drexel picked up the phone and dialed the number for Brandon Marshall.

  Chapter 14

  Brandon Marshall sat across the table from Daniela and Drexel. Dressed in his Plumber Savior uniform, he fidgeted constantly. Tapping his knees. Scratching his neck where red splotches looked like irritation from shaving. Rubbing his fingers in a twisting motion.

  After their move to this temporary station, several homicide detectives had set up the interview room. A camera sat in the corner facing the interviewee and looking out through the windows to the building across the street. Doggett had also wired in a thermostat control on the outside of the room. The room itself was plain. Light brown paint. Linoleum floor. Simple desk. Three chairs. The interviewee got the hard plastic chair. A cabinet with commonly used forms sat in a corner.

  Daniela sat to the left of Drexel and had a thick file folder they had prepared—mostly documents unrelated to the murders—in front of her. This interview was a long shot, but they hoped to apply pressure on Marshall by having him in the station, which was always more nerve-wracking than sitting at home in your own chair talking to detectives. They had agreed prior to entering the room that they would wait for Marshall to speak first.

  Daniela placed her hand on top of the folder while Drexel folded his hands and smiled thinly at him. Marshall did not wait long to speak. “How can I help?” His bright blue eyes focused on Daniela and then shifted to Drexel. “You said I could help on the phone.”

  Drexel unfolded his hands. “We’re glad you could come down to the station. We hope this’ll be very quick.”

  “Have you read this?” Daniela placed the article from the Tribune in front of Marshall.

  He bent over it, looked at it, and shook his head. “Don’t read the papers really.”

 
“We’re investigating that murder.”

  “Okay. My boss said you were asking questions but didn’t know why. How can I help? And why are you asking about me?”

  Drexel ignored the question. “Have you ever been in that area?”

  Marshall looked at the paper. Pulled it closer to him. “Probably. I drive around a lot. Part of the job.”

  “I’m going to show you some photos.” Drexel nodded to Daniela, who pulled out the MPU photos for Brittany and Jodi. She placed them on the table side by side. He asked, “You ever seen these women?”

  Marshall bent over and studied each one carefully. “No. Nope. I don’t recognize either of them. But I meet lots of people every day. Do you think I met one of them?”

  Daniela left the photos on the table. “Why did you go into plumbing? You graduated from an elite university.” She picked a piece of lint off her red Oxford’s wide collar and flicked it into the air.

  Marshall shifted in his seat and tilted his head back and forth. “You sound like my dad. Is there something wrong with plumbers?”

  “On the contrary, my brother is a plumber,” said Drexel.

  Marshall nodded. “It’s good work. It’s meaningful work in that I can see what I do day in and day out. I studied theology, and your options are limited if you don’t want to become a priest or pastor or a professor. You have to move on and get your Ph.D. and find a teaching job yourself. Or you find another job. My time studying theology led me to believe that much of what we do as a culture today is wrongheaded. We’re focused on what is without meaning, though on the surface, it may appear to have meaning.”

  “‘The glorious masterpiece of man is to live to purpose.’”

  Daniela glanced with shock at Drexel but avoided whipping her head to look at him full on.

  A smile crossed Marshall’s face. “Ah, you know Montaigne.”

  “My wife introduced me.”

  “I praise her forethought. I didn’t want to spend my time teaching others about theology. That is a purpose, but it’s not my purpose. I seek mine in the day-to-day work of plumbing.”

  Daniela said, “Are you religious?”

  “If you mean, do I attend church? No. I’m not affiliated with any church or religion. I work. I go home. I sleep. My life is very simple. That’s how I want it.”

  Drexel wondered if attending a Bible study somehow slipped the definition Marshall was applying to “religious.” Regardless, he let it alone. “Did you happen to study under Dr. Whitney Day when you attended school?”

  “I have no idea who that is.” Marshall smiled. “We do seem to be off topic. How may I help?”

  Daniela looked at Drexel, and he raised his eyebrows. From the folder, she pulled out two photos. One was the dusted thumbprint on the pop can from where Brittany’s body was discovered and one from the pipe in the basement where Jodi was found. With her index finger, she slid the pop can photo across the table to Marshall. “We found that in the backyard of a house where a body was found. We found this one,” she slid the pipe photo over, “in the basement of the house where another body was found. Both sites—”

  “Wait a second.” Marshall pulled himself and the chair he was sitting on forward to the table. “Hold on.”

  “Both sites had similar sets of evidence around the bodies. We want—”

  “Hold on now.” The full weight of why he was here dawned on him.

  Daniela held up a single finger. “We want to know how your prints got in both locations.”

  Drexel leaned over the table. “You can see why we’re asking, right?”

  Marshall’s eyes darted back and forth between Drexel and the photos of his fingerprints. He twisted his jaw as he touched the photos.

  “You see, those prints are yours. We matched them to what your company has on file. Your prints. Two murder victims. Two locations.”

  Marshall shifted in his chair and rubbed his chin. “Look. I visit a lot of places every day. This has to be a coincidence.”

  “Well. You see, detectives don’t like coincidences. Frankly, don’t believe them. One of the old-timers here, he calls coincidences bullshit. It’s one of his rules of homicide investigations.”

  “I don’t like them either.” Daniela crossed her arms.

  “Where were these at?”

  “Wrigleyville and Lincoln Park.”

  “No. Specifically the houses.”

  Drexel pulled the folder over to him, flipped a few pages until he found the addresses, and told him.

  Marshall pulled out his phone and looked them up. “The company gives us this phone, and we use it to track every location we go to. Here. The house in Wrigleyville. Its back is against an alley. I worked in the house opposite it across the alley. I often park back in the alleys. Easier parking. I probably just tossed the can into the yard or it fell out when I was getting tools or something.”

  “But then there’s the one in the basement where we found the body.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I can explain.” Marshall rubbed the top of his thighs.

  “Anytime.”

  “I was asked to do some plumbing work there. It was being remodeled. It’ll be nice when it’s done.”

  “Who asked you to do the plumbing?”

  “My boss. There were other workers there doing other renovations. I never met the owner.”

  “Interesting.” Drexel stood up. “We’ll be back.”

  He and Daniela walked out of the interview room and closed the door behind them.

  She blew out a breath. “So what do you think?”

  “It could be true.”

  “Convenient answers is what I thought.”

  Drexel nodded. “But obvious ones. I say we press him and see if he breaks. We can bluff some DNA evidence is coming.”

  Daniela nodded in agreement. They waited thirty minutes before returning to the interview room.

  “I want a lawyer.” Marshall was looking out a window.

  “You’re not under arrest,” said Daniela.

  “So I’m free to go?”

  Drexel nodded once.

  Daniela said, “But you can help us with this case. You might have seen something.”

  Marshall looked at them and walked out of the interview room without saying another word.

  * * *

  Drexel ripped open three sugar packets and poured them into his coffee and then added two creams, stirring vigorously with his finger, which he then sucked dry. “That didn’t work.” He leaned back and put his feet on the conference room table.

  Daniela nodded. “I think we’ll be talking to him again.”

  “Probably right. Impressions?”

  “Something’s wonky about him. You?”

  “He seemed very poised. Sure of himself. You think he’s our guy?”

  “I didn’t see or hear anything in that interview to change my mind that he’s our best suspect.”

  “Our only suspect.”

  She smiled.

  Drexel said, “I think it’s worth doing some surveillance.”

  “You think that’ll get us anywhere?”

  “I don’t know. We’ve got so little, I’m thinking anything will help. We can keep it small.”

  “You and me. Split the time?”

  “Yeah. From arrival at home to arrival at work? We can check if he showed up to work or not. If he’s dumping bodies in abandoned locations during the day, his work performance would have suffered. And his boss doesn’t mention anything like that.”

  Daniela nodded. “Works for me. Can you take the graveyard shift?”

  “I’ll take the twelve to six.” He dropped his feet to the floor and picked up the MPU report on Jodi. He flipped it open to review it more fully. In his haste to get to interviewing the witnesses, he had not read it as thoroughly as he would have liked.
After thirty minutes of reading statements and timelines and reports, he reached the last page. “Shit. I didn’t see this. Did you? That Benoit led these investigations as well?”

  “What? You’re kidding me?” She sucked in her breath and looked at him, the implication buried in her response and expressed in Drexel’s surprise taking weight.

  He handed her Jodi’s report. “Probably dumb luck.”

  “That’s another way of saying coincidence.”

  He grunted. “Let’s sit on that for a bit.” He looked at his watch. “Let’s call it a night though. I’ll start watching our person of interest tonight and get help. Then we can check out Kevin Blair tomorrow morning. Could be he’s our guy. Need to cross him off the list at least.”

  Daniela nodded. She grabbed a fresh Monster and said her goodnight as they parted on the sidewalk outside the entrance to the station. He texted Ton, telling him he would be there soon.

  Chapter 15

  The address Pernell Chicago Renovation and Remodeling had provided for Kevin Blair was a three-story mansion in the Gold Coast. A limestone ground floor was several yards from the sidewalk along the street. Trimmed hedges and green grass bordered the walk to the entrance. The second and third stories were red brick. Drexel knocked on the door. Daniela stood just behind and to the right. When no one answered, he rang the doorbell.

  Just as he was beginning to ring the bell again, a young woman, twentysomething Drexel guessed, opened the door. She wore a white Oxford top and black slacks with an apron tied around her waist. She tied her long, sandy blond hair in a ponytail. “Hello?” she asked.

  Drexel identified himself and Daniela and showed her his badge. “I’d like to speak to Kevin Blair.”

  “He’s not home at the moment,” she answered.

  “You are?”

  “I’m Stephanie. Stephanie Stallworth. I’m Mrs. Darlington’s housekeeper.”

  “I’d like to speak to Mrs. Darlington then.”