Down & Dirty: A McCray Crime Collection

by McCray, Carolyn

  The door opened up a small crack and the tousled head of William Parker, assistant to the medical examiner, appeared framed within the narrow space. “Wha…? Hey. Detective Darcmel? Is that you? What’re you doing here?” The young man glanced around, suddenly nervous. “Shit. Did I get the day wrong again? They didn’t need to send you guys out…” His voice trailed off as he pulled out his phone and looked at the display. From what Darc could tell, the assistant was not wearing any pants.

  “You are a suspect in the—” Darc began.

  “Hey, Billy!” Trey stepped in. “Officer Keane here. I was at the crime scene this morning.” William nodded at Keane, distracted. “We just wanted to talk to you for a sec.”

  “Oh, yeah. Cool.” The young man looked behind him, then back at Trey and Darc. “This isn’t a great time, though. Any chance we can do this later? Or you could call me. Totally. Yeah, that’d be better. Gimme a call, ‘kay?” He started to shut the door.

  Darc placed his shoulder against the door and pushed back, knocking William off balance. “Our need to speak with you is urgent,” Darc uttered.

  “Totally. Yeah. I get that,” William responded, his motions more and more abrupt. “It’s just that I… well… I’ve got a girl here, you know?”

  “Do not be concerned. We do not need to speak with her,” Darc replied, moving into the apartment. Trey followed in on his heels.

  As they both cleared the doorframe, Trey inhaled, the sound sharp in the sudden stillness. On every spare scrap of wall, there were newspaper clippings, crime scene photographs, and notes. Every one of them related to the Hairless Harry killings.

  “Oh, man,” Trey murmured to the young assistant. “I think it’s time for you to get dressed and come with us.”

  Darc pressed the point further. “Why were you down in the area of the crime scene last night at around two o’clock in the morning?”

  “Wait. You think… No! No! Listen. It’s not that,” William cried out. “I was out with my girlfriend last night.”

  “The traffic camera picture showed only you in the car.”

  “What? Oh… right.” The young man ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “She was passed out in the back seat. That’s why she’s been crashed here since then. Sleeping it off, you know?”

  “Dude.” Trey entered the conversation once more. “That doesn’t even come close to explaining all of this.” He swept his hand around the room.

  “Yeah, yeah, I get that. It’s just really interesting, you know? My first major serial killer.” William looked back and forth from Trey to Darc. “You must know what that’s like, right?”

  “More than you have any idea, there, Billy. That still doesn’t cover your little perv palace here.”

  “What’s going on? Babe, who are these guys?” A young woman, her face puffy and her hair looking like several rodents had nested within its tresses, stood in the doorway of the bedroom. Observing the underlying bone structure, Darc assessed that the girl had an attractive face under normal circumstances. Now was clearly not one of those normal circumstances.

  “Hey, ‘Nessa,” William responded, moving to her side and urging her back into the bedroom. “These are just some guys from work. Had to talk to me about a case and stuff. No biggie. Go back to sleep.”

  “You will need to come with us back to the station,” Darc told the young man. Whatever he was telling his female companion, they were not here to simply talk.

  At that moment, the theme song to Mission Impossible played through the small apartment space. Trey fumbled in his pocket for his phone before getting it out and opening it up.

  “Officer Keane here.” There was a pause as Keane shrugged what looked like an apology to the room. “Yeah, okay, but why are you calling me?” Trey glanced at Darc, then away. “He wasn’t answering his phone? Fine, fine. I’m on it. I’ll get us over there ASAP.” He flipped the phone shut with a snap. “There’s another murder. Dispatch is texting me the address as we speak.”

  William stood in the middle of the apartment, looking like he was excited, but trying to hide it. For the first time, Darc noticed that he was wearing red and blue underwear which had a large star framed by a circle on them.

  Trey turned to look at William. “Dude. You better get on some pants. We’re going for a ride. And those Captain America briefs just aren’t cutting it.”

  “Cool!” The young man yelped, then took a breath and spoke in a more quiet voice. “I mean… yeah, I can do that. Oh,” he added, tilting his head toward the girl who was shambling back to the bedroom. “And could we maybe not tell my mom about this?”

  * * *

  “This address has to be right next to where we were this morning,” Trey said to Darc as he weaved his way through the traffic. “Call from dispatch said the units are reporting it as a possible Hairless Harry.”

  “Yes! Man, I was hoping…” came a voice from the back of the car. William lifted up his hands in an apology as Trey glared at him in the rearview mirror. “Sorry. Sorry. I’ll shut up.”

  “You, my young friend, are not smart,” Trey muttered to the assistant. Stepping on the gas, Trey took another corner at a much faster speed than was probably a good idea. Darc held on to the handle above the passenger side door. William, on the other hand, careened into the far side of the car, cursing as he hit his head on the window.

  It was nice to know where the hell he was going. The last two times he’d been in the car with Darc, it had been like pulling teeth to figure out where they were headed.

  As the car pulled up to the address Trey had gotten on his cell, he felt his heart sink into his stomach. The address was the deli where he’d gotten the bagel for Darc this morning. He’d also gotten one for himself, and had been craving another one ever since. Nothing would ever replace his love of breakfast meats, but that lox was coming in a very close second.

  “Okay,” Trey called over the seat to the kid in the back. “Gimme your hand.”

  William stretched his arm over the seat and Trey clapped one end of his handcuffs around the young man’s wrist. He then attached the other end to the door.

  “Stay here.”

  “Aw, man! Can’t I come in and take a look? I know this guy’s M.O. like nobody.”

  Trey sighed and shook his head. “You’re a suspect. I’m not taking you into a crime scene that we think might be yours. Grab a clue.”

  “Right. Right.” William sat back in his seat. “I’ll just stay here, then. No prob.”

  As Trey walked into the restaurant behind Darc, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the low light in the tiny space they had entered. It was nothing more than a small standing area for the customers, separated off by a counter and deli cases.

  When his eyes had cleared, Trey groaned. There, behind the counter, was the deli owner who had helped Trey that very morning.

  “Seriously? Where am I gonna get that amazing lox now? This guy cured it special himself. It was awesome.”

  While Trey was speaking, Darc had opened up the door that led to the back area and was kneeling down close to the body. He reached out his hands to…

  “Hey!” Trey yelled. “Darc! What are you doing over there?”

  Darc looked back at Trey, his face expressionless. “I am moving the body.”

  “You can’t move the body. Remember what the captain said this morning?”

  Nodding his head, Darc grabbed the corpse by its shoulders and slid the body up a couple of feet. “The captain said I needed permission from the M.E. I obtained that permission. I can now move bodies.”

  “Um, I’m pretty sure that doesn’t sound right,” Trey pressed, as he moved through the swinging door to get to the victim.

  Darc was scanning the clothes and exposed skin of the victim. Trey noticed in passing that the man’s head and beard had been shaved. There were a few tiny nicks that had bled, the trail of red leading down the head and face to the floor. Premortem. Looked like their guy, all right.

/>   “Darc.” Trey pointed to the shaving wounds. “This couldn’t have been Billy. Check out the blood on this guy’s cheek. It’s still wet. There’s no way he could’ve gotten home and been asleep by the time we got to his place.”

  “He might have been faking his tiredness,” Darc responded, his tone flat.

  “Sure, possibly, but I’m telling you, dude, if he was acting, the guy’s like Academy Award material.”

  Darc seemed to ignore Trey’s assessments as he continued processing the body. Whatever. Trey moved around to view the rest of the space behind the counter. Looking into one of the corners of the shop, he stopped moving. He wasn’t even sure for a second that he was still breathing.

  “Darc?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think I got a footprint.” Trey moved closer. There was a scattering of what looked like flour or cornstarch that had been spilled in the area. Right in the middle of it was a footprint. But there was something weird here…

  The footprint was made by a woman’s shoe.

  Darc was by his side in a heartbeat. Man, that guy could move fast when he wanted to. He peered down at the print.

  “That is certainly an important clue, but it could have been made by another worker here.”

  “No, it couldn’t have,” Trey responded. “While I was waiting for your bagel, I chatted with the owner for a while. He runs the place himself. No help.”

  Darc was doing that thousand-mile-stare thing again, looking at the print, no expression on his face, saying nothing. It was a little creepy. Finally, he seemed to come out of it.

  “The killer is male.”

  “Yeah, okay, I get that,” Trey countered. “But this is a solid lead.”

  “It is a footprint, nothing more. It can tell us little.”

  “It can tell us more than a little.” Trey pointed out the print. “Check this out. In the print you can see where the logo left a mark. See the puckered lips? That’s Betsey Johnson’s logo.”

  “How does that assist us?” Darc’s tone was flat, but he was still asking questions, so that had to be a good thing, right?

  “These prints were made by a size 12. That’s huge for a woman. Special order huge.” Trey dug in his pocket for his cell phone. “You can’t even get those from Zappos. There’s only one shop in Seattle that would carry that size.” He dialed information and waited.

  Darc was staring at him, an odd expression on his face. If Trey hadn’t known better, he would have said it was… respect.

  That couldn’t be right, could it?

  CHAPTER 6

  The man from the C.S.I. team was livid. His veins were bulging out of his forehead, his voice was raised to extreme decibels, and his face was red.

  Or he was feverish and had hearing loss. These emotional landscapes were so difficult for Darc to navigate.

  “What the hell were you thinking, moving the body like that?” the man screamed.

  “I have permission from the medical examiner,” Darc responded, looking around the man to attempt to catch a glimpse of Trey. Officer Keane was currently tracking down their best lead, and Darc needed to know what was happening as soon as possible.

  “Dr. Murray would never give permission for someone to move a body,” the C.S.I. team member cried. “That’s impossible.”

  “Perhaps implausible, but hardly impossible,” Darc said, moving around the man to join Trey on the sidewalk outside of the deli. “Especially considering the fact that Dr. Murray did, indeed, grant me that power.”

  Behind him, Darc heard the man sputtering, several curse words making their way out of his mouth. It was possible the man had Tourette’s syndrome. Darc should report that possibility to his superior when he had a spare moment.

  Trey turned around, shutting the cell phone. “Okay, I got a hit, but it’s a weird one.” He tapped his pencil against the pad, where he had jotted something down. “There were only two people in the last three months that bought size 12 Betsey Johnsons. One was a drag queen by the name of Devine Devilish. The other…” He held out the pad for Darc to read the name there.

  “Tracy Hendricks,” Darc read.

  “Yeah. The hot reporter from this morning.” Trey paused for a moment and got a distant look on his face. “Those’re pretty big feet. I can’t decide if that makes her hotter or not.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I managed to call the station she reports for. They said she’s not in today. When I asked where she might be, they gave me the address of an old abandoned studio she’s been renovating. Something about some web venture she’s working on.”

  Logic trails shimmered in front of Darc’s eyes. Things were lining up, but there was one significant thread that refused to fall into place.

  Their killer was a man.

  This last murder could be a copycat, but, although the hair had been shaved off of the victim in a more hurried fashion than it had with the previous victims, the Roman numeral XIII had been carved into the man’s sternum. That was a detail that had not been released to the public.

  Something here was not making sense.

  The theme song to The Odd Couple interrupted Darc’s line of reasoning. Glancing over at Trey, he saw the vice cop shrug and grin.

  “I changed it. Seemed appropriate, y’know?”

  He answered his phone. “Keane. Yeah, yeah… couldn’t get a hold of Darc. Got it.” Trey looked up at Darc and pursed his lips. “The DNA results? Yeah, okay. Whatcha got?” Suddenly, Trey’s face went completely white. He closed the cell phone.

  The glowing lines in Darc’s mind quivered, waiting for the information. They could somehow sense the news was significant.

  “What did they have to say?” Darc queried.

  “Um. DNA’s male.”

  “Yes. We already knew that.”

  Trey licked his lips. “Yep. But there’s something else we didn’t know. They found high levels of estrogen and progesterone in the blood.”

  As Keane spoke, the glimmering strands aligned in Darc’s mind. Their killer was Tracy Hendricks. Tracy Hendricks, the reporter. Tracy Hendricks, the Hairless Harry.

  Tracy Hendricks, the transsexual.

  * * *

  Trey was freaking out.

  That was really the only way to describe it. He wasn’t proud of that fact, but there it was.

  You couldn’t be a vice cop and not run into all types of people. Strippers, prostitutes, gay men, gay women, transsexuals, you pretty much saw it all. There was, however, a distinct difference between seeing… and flirting with.

  Not that Trey had an issue with transsexuals. Quite the contrary. In his encounters in the past, he’d had mostly good experiences. There had been that one guy—woman?—who had tried to kick him in his family jewels while getting cuffed. But on the whole? Nothing but positive feelings.

  He’d just never met one quite so hot before.

  Or one who was, you know, a serial killer. That should more than likely be the important qualifier here, but Trey couldn’t quite convince himself of that.

  “Okay, okay,” he muttered to himself. “This isn’t weird. Well, it isn’t that weird. Right? Right. Is it weird?” Trey turned to Darc, who was opening up the back door to the car.

  Darc didn’t give him a response, which left Trey unsure of what to think. Darc held out his hand toward Trey. Okay, now that was weird.

  “What?” Trey asked. Then he noticed Billy in the back, still handcuffed to the door. “Oh, right.” He handed the keys over to Darc, who leaned in and released the hapless assistant.

  Billy clambered out of the car, rubbing his wrists. “So, I’m free to go?”

  “Yes,” Darc responded. “But make certain you stay within easy contact with the precinct.”

  “Yeah, totally.” Billy looked to his right, then to his left. “Hey. You guys think you could drop me by my house?”

  Darc just stared at him.

  “No, yeah, right. I get it.” The young man looked around once more, seemed to pick what he thought was a lik
ely direction, and waved at them. “Let me know if you need any help with the case. Seriously.” He gave Trey a significant look, then moved off, and from what Trey could tell, it was in the wrong direction.

  “Okay,” Trey said, rubbing his hands together. “Off to the abandoned studio to catch a transsexual sociopath.”

  “One who likely knows that we are coming,” Darc added.

  “Wait. What?” This was news to Trey, and not welcome news at that.

  “This killer has been nothing but efficient, precise and organized. There have been very few details she has missed.” Darc moved to the passenger side door, opened it, and got inside.

  When Trey joined him, Darc let one more tidbit fall from his mouth. “That footprint was left on purpose.”

  Well, that was just great, wasn’t it? Trey started the car, but didn’t shift it into gear. All of a sudden he had no desire to come face to face with Tracy Hendricks.

  This wasn’t the same thing as being afraid of a girl beating him up, right?

  Right?

  * * *

  As they pulled up to the entrance of the old studio space, Darc traced the lines of logic as they swirled about, all pointing toward this place. Blue for certainty. She was the one. She was here.

  The ride over had been unusually silent. There had not been the typical jabbering from Trey to interrupt the pure flow of reason that guided Darc’s actions. That should have been helpful, yet somehow it had left him feeling… hollow. Darc found this shift in his attitude disturbing.

  They exited the vehicle and moved toward the entrance. There was a metal chain holding the double doors closed, but the lock securing it had been left open. Blue strands of light flooded up from the chain.

  Trey looked at Darc, his eyebrows up and asking the question. In answer, Darc slid the lock out of the chain and allowed the length of metal to slide to the ground in a rattle of links. The noise echoed off the walls of the surrounding buildings.

  “I guess we go in?” Trey asked. He stifled a cough as his voice quavered and caught for a moment.

  Darc swung the door open, the metal scraping against the concrete flooring inside. The grinding was a screech of desperation, of fear and loathing. The sound fell, dead and dampened, on the soundproofed walls of the darkened studio within.