The Green-Eyed Doll

by Jerrie Alexander

  “Will you be all right?” His eyes searched across her face, no doubt looking for reassurance.

  “No problem. Go. I’ve got to get to work myself.” She mindlessly grabbed a pair of slacks and blouse.

  He kissed her on the tip of her nose, and then he was gone. She sagged down on the bed and dropped her head in her hands. With so much going on in his life, there was never a good time to tell him about her past.

  She pulled herself together, dressed for work, and went out to Emma’s old Lincoln. With a twist of the key, the car hummed like it was brand new. When the air conditioning instantly cooled the inside air, Catherine drove away not missing her old Ford one bit.

  By the time she parked in the rear of the funeral home, she’d made progress at sorting out the news. That was until a name flashed through her mind. Marty. Had anyone called Marty?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Wednesday, September 6th, 8:30 a.m.

  “I understand the body is male. You have an ID?” Steve Evers stood between Matt and the crime scene. “Any comments?”

  “One. Move.” Matt’s glare sent the County Recorder reporter to the side of the road.

  “And stay behind the yellow tape unless you want to write your column from jail,” Ash added. He walked off and started his solitary inspection.

  Matt went directly to where Dave Foster and Hector Ruiz stood over JC’s body. Matt hated to be late, but Jake and Rey had things under control. The perimeter had been secured, and extra deputies kept a watchful eye on the gathering crowd.

  “Foster. Ruiz.” Matt spoke to the forensic experts. “I appreciate you getting here so fast.”

  “Sheriff,” Ruiz acknowledged Matt’s arrival. “Dr. Reinhardt is in route. Dave called him after we found evidence that might connect the dead guy to the recent homicides. He’s staying on top of the doll murders.”

  “He’s on top of something,” Ash commented when he passed behind the group.

  Matt caught Ash’s reference to the ME leaking information to Sylvia Horning. He and Ash exchanged knowing glances, but Matt didn’t speak. He didn’t care how Sylvia wormed the information out of Reinhardt. Forgiving the breach of trust wasn’t on the horizon.

  Matt squatted and studied the body. A chill stirred the hair on his arms in spite of the sweat cascading down his back. A bullet had entered JC’s right temple and exited the left side taking brain matter and bone with it. Matt pulled in a lungful of air when a question popped into his mind. Was there any significance that JC’s hazel eyes were damn close to being green?

  “No note? Confession?” Matt asked.

  “Nada. It’s never that easy.” Ruiz looked up from bagging JC’s hands.

  “What’d you find tying him to the murdered women?”

  “He’s got a silk blouse in his hand,” Foster supplied the answer.

  “So? It’s too early to make such a broad statement.” Matt needed a lot more proof.

  Rey moved to Matt’s side. “There’s another blouse and a pair of women’s panties in the glove compartment. All different sizes.”

  “Shit.” Ash looked up from taking notes. “I liked the sonofabitch.”

  “I’ve known him for years. Easy going, everybody’s friend. He’d give you the shirt off his back.” Jake spoke for the first time. Disappointment mingled with anger in his eyes. He blew out a sigh. “I’d have trusted him with my sister.”

  Matt didn’t know what to say. Trust was a fragile thing to him. Jake would have to work past his disillusionment. “You about finished here?” he asked Ash. “I want to take a look inside JC’s house.”

  “Let’s ride.” Ash strode to Matt’s cruiser without saying goodbye to anyone.

  “Jake, when you and Rey wrap things up here, let Ruiz and Foster follow you to JC’s. We’ll meet you there.” Matt wanted a look around before anyone else. Something nagged at him. Like Ruiz had said, life wasn’t this easy. A couple of articles of clothing didn’t sew this case up for Matt.

  The television news van and the ME’s car arrived at the same time Matt started the cruiser. The sixty-something-year-old Reinhardt exited his vehicle and hurried toward the young blonde reporter. Not much about JC’s death would be kept from the press.

  “What’s eating you?” Ash asked after they got out on the highway. He pulled the sun visor down, opened the mirror, poking at his sunburned skin with his finger.

  “I told you to wear a hat.”

  “So you did. What’s eating you?” Ash repeated the question.

  “I wasn’t ignoring you. I don’t have an answer to give you.”

  “Talk it out. Like we used to. No wisecracks if I get melancholy about days gone by.”

  “You have a permanent badge here with me whenever you want one.” Matt reminded him.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of you returning to civilization. After you get married, Catherine might be happier in the big city.”

  “When did we quit discussing the case and start talking about my personal life?”

  “You started it by mothering me over my sunburn.”

  Matt would miss the camaraderie if the case was over and Ash went back to Houston. Crest County was home for Matt, and he hadn’t given any thought as to how Catherine felt about the area. Maybe he should. But marriage? That was a whole other ball game.

  Matt kicked off the brainstorming with a question. “Let’s say, for the sake of argument, JC killed all three women. He was careful not to leave one shred of evidence. Nothing. He was super cautious. Then he up and kills himself. Why?”

  “I think I’m supposed to say he felt guilty. I’m still having trouble seeing JC violent enough to kill anybody.”

  “And wasn’t it considerate of him to off himself in the same place he left the first body. A location every person in the county read about. If that weren’t enough, he provided us lots of clues. A couple of blouses and a pair of panties happened to be with him.”

  “Sounds too convenient.”

  “We’d have been blind fools not to put two and two together.” Matt parked in front of JC’s house. The trellis was bare. Obviously, the scraggly roses Matt noticed a month ago had perished in the dry heat. Curious, because he remembered JC watering.

  Matt handed Ash a pair of gloves, and both men put them on when they exited the car. Ash walked the length of the porch and disappeared around back.

  Matt tried the door and found it locked as expected. JC’s house was like Catherine’s, old and easy to get into. A good shoulder push would do it.

  He froze. Somebody was inside the house. He stepped back, unsnapped his holster, his hand automatically resting on his Glock. A figure appeared, and the door opened.

  “Shit, Ash. I could’ve shot you.” Matt rubbed his hand across his face.

  “Then you’d have to take care of me. You know...payback.”

  Matt did know. Ash was joking, but Matt would never forget the physical therapy sessions with Ash egging him on, challenging him to do more. “Maybe I will shoot you next time. I wouldn’t mind getting to call you sissy, wimp, and your favorite...pussy boy.”

  Ash grimaced. “Did I call you a wimp? I’m sorry, man.”

  The two men worked in unison. Sparsely furnished, the living room hadn’t changed since Matt’s last visit. Neither noticed anything of interest. Ash took off toward the bedrooms, and Matt went to the kitchen. He was staring at beer, milk and something that might be green bologna when Ash exploded with a stream of cuss words.

  “Sonofabitch.” Ash’s expletive echoed down the hallway. “Come take a look at this.”

  Matt walked into the bedroom and then stumbled backward a step. Adrenaline pumped through him at supersonic speed. Bile rose up in the back of his throat and for a second, rage blinded his vision. Never in a million years would he have thought JC capable of this. The bastard had been right under his nose all the time. He removed his hat, dragging his fingers through his hair. Blew this one. Don’t lose it.

  A shrine to Ca
therine filled one wall. Snapshots of her in different places, wearing different outfits were tacked side-by-side and on top of the other. Matt forced his hands to remain at his sides when what he wanted to do was rip them to shreds. A digital camera sat on a small table, accompanied by a neat stack of snapshots. Matt spread them with the finger of a gloved hand. They were pictures of male body parts. No doubt to go with future gifts. Bile filled the back of his throat. He wanted ten minutes alone with this bastard alive. Matt pulled himself out of the gathering fog.

  “There’s a box of clothes here on the floor.” Ash had knelt down on one knee, half in, and half out of the closet. “Odds and ends. And they’re not his.”

  Matt looked over Ash’s shoulder at the assortment of women’s wear. “The forensic techs can take them to the lab. I want pictures to show the families of the murder victims. If they ID them—”

  Rey calling Matt’s name pulled his attention to the front porch. “Come on, Ash. Let’s get out of here. Give these guys some space.” Maybe it was an excuse, Matt didn’t care. He needed fresh air. JC’s bedroom was closing in on him.

  Jake and Rey waited in the front yard with Foster and Ruiz until Matt brought him up to speed on what he and Ash had found inside the house. Foster shifted his collections kit to the other shoulder and inched toward the house, eager to get to work.

  “We’ll get you the clothes as soon as they’re processed,” Foster said. “No need making the families drive to San Antonio.”

  “We didn’t search the property. I want to know everything about JC, all his secrets. If he was the killer, he had a hiding place. I have to find it.”

  “You got it.” Foster and Ruiz headed inside the house.

  Ruiz turned back to Matt. “Dr. Reinhardt went back to San Antonio with the body. Said to tell you Jessie Bradley’s autopsy will be as scheduled. He’s got a couple ahead of JC, couldn’t give you a date on him.”

  “Hell, he performs more than one a day, doesn’t he?” Matt’s patience with the good doctor was thin. If he had time to talk to the press, he had time to work on JC.

  “Sorry. He’s got a double homicide on the slab. The mayor of San Antonio’s all over us wanting results.” Ruiz raised his hands in surrender. “I’m telling you what the man said.”

  ****

  Wednesday, September 6th, 1:00 p.m.

  “Another reason to not work in the boonies,” Ash announced after he bid goodbye to his new lady friend in the drugstore.

  “What’s that?” Matt paid the tab for lunch. The coffee shop had become one of Ash’s favorite hangouts. There was more involved here than larger portions. Matt didn’t question the frequency of their visits, because the eye contact and body language between Ash and the waitress told enough.

  “Small town equals low priority. The mayor of San Antonio gets what he wants before you small town boys.”

  “Small town equals less crime. Until recently.” Matt responded to the eye roll he had no doubt Ash had given him. “I’m going to lean on Reinhardt. I need a firm ruling on cause of death for JC.”

  “You haven’t told Catherine what we found at JC’s house. She should know.”

  “I'm going now. If you need me, I’ll be at the funeral home.” Matt stopped after they crossed the street. No need in climbing the stairs to his office.

  “I thought you might. Remind her she’s introducing me to her friend. Susan? Yeah. Susan.”

  “You’re such a whore-dog.” Matt laughed as he crossed the parking lot to his cruiser.

  The drive allowed him to gather his thoughts. He welcomed the quiet time. He and Ash had taken notes and compared them on the way back. The pictures Rey shot and Jake’s report would be ready to view later today. For Matt, it helped to rewind and move through the day again in his mind. Begin at the beginning, his old Chief would’ve said. Clichéd? Maybe. But it worked.

  That he missed something ate at his insides. Dammit, he’d interviewed JC twice. Been in his living room for Christ’s sake. The man had come across as sincere and shocked when Matt insinuated JC might’ve killed Julia. The two had dated some time back, not recently. A “long time ago” was JC’s timeframe. Shit, he did mention giving her stuff. What was it he’d said? “I bought her stuff, and she liked it. I think maybe that was all she liked about me.” Was he covertly admitting he stalked her? When he discovered she only cared about the presents, did he get angry enough to kill her? If so, why’d he wait so long? What set him off?

  Matt and his deputies had questioned the families and friends of the three victims, asked more than once if the women had received gifts or been stalked. Tomorrow he’d ask them again.

  The pieces of this puzzle wouldn’t come together, but he wasn’t finished. Later he’d get back to all the unanswered questions.

  ****

  Wednesday, September 6th, 3:00 p.m.

  Catherine backed out of the supply closet to find Susan standing behind her. Catherine clapped her hand over her chest. “You startled me.”

  “At least you didn’t go all Kung Fu on me.”

  “True. I shouldn’t let my guard down.”

  “The sheriff’s waiting for you in my office.” Susan caught Catherine’s hand and squeezed.

  “Now you’re scaring me. What else has happened?”

  “Don’t know. He said he had business with you.”

  Catherine allowed herself to be led down the hall. She’d told Susan first thing this morning about JC’s body being found. After all, the funeral home would probably be his next stop after the autopsy. The irony of the name Final Touch struck Catherine. How silly of her not to get it before.

  Regardless of why he was here, her heart fluttered at the sight of Matt standing in the doorway of the office. In his official stance with his stern sheriff’s face, he sent her pulse pounding and brought her blood to the boiling point. He removed his hat and swiped the back of his hand across the ridge where the sweatband rode. His lopsided grin stole its way to the surface and made him more handsome.

  “Hey. What a nice surprise. Ten minutes earlier and you’d have missed me.”

  “I’ll be out here if you need something,” Susan announced, then disappeared into the break room.

  “Susan.” Matt’s voice was in the sheriff’s mode. “Nobody knows for sure if JC killed anyone. That investigation’s ongoing.”

  “Folks are saying guilt got the best of JC. I’ve known him off and on all my life. Hard to believe he went wrong.” Susan paused. “I’m sorry. I’ve been nervous all day. I’ll give you two some privacy.”

  “What’s wrong?” Catherine hated to think or ask that out loud, but lately when he stopped by the funeral home, it wasn’t for pleasure.

  “Come sit down.”

  Something deep inside Catherine stirred when Matt closed the door. Stomach acid churned as nerves reacted to the unknown. She perched on the edge of a chair. He sat in front of her, their knees touching.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “JC was your stalker.”

  Matt delivered the announcement with the skill of a surgeon. Quick and clean. Catherine’s brain didn’t register his meaning for a second.

  “No.” She wasn’t disputing his word so much as she didn’t want to hear them. JC was a friend. He was Marty’s friend. She couldn’t believe underneath that good-old-boy facade a heinous killer and demented stalker had been hiding.

  “We found irrefutable evidence when we searched his house.” Matt knelt in front of her and held her hands in his. “There’s no doubt he was the stalker.”

  Disappointment morphed to disgust. Anger ignited every neuron, and every synapse in her brain fired like an overheated circuit board. Her skin felt the buzz of an electrical storm. Her thoughts ran in different directions. How could she have been so blind? What had she missed? She’d gotten into JC’s pickup and ridden away with him.

  “Breathe, honey. Breathe.”

  His voice touched her somewhere deep in her soul. Life refocused. His hand cupped her
cheek, and his touch calmed the raging seas.

  She did as he instructed and let some of the pent up air out of her lungs. “Did you call me ‘honey’?”

  “I don’t know, did I?”

  “You did. It’s the first time you’ve called me by a nickname.”

  “Not really.” One corner of his smile rose higher. “Occasionally, I call you Cat.”

  “Yes, you do.” The tension in her shoulders relaxed. He was doing a great job of calming her. “Only in private.”

  “True. Are you all right now?”

  “Yeah. Shocked. Madder than hell. Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “How’s Marty?”

  “Brokenhearted. She can’t get her mind wrapped around the fact JC was a murderer or that he committed suicide. Telling her he was the stalker will crush her.”

  “If he was the killer, she’ll survive. She’ll be less trusting for a while. Who won’t be?”

  Matt’s joints snapped and cracked when he stood. They shared a laugh at the noise. She didn’t know about him, but it was the first bit of humor she’d found all day.

  “If?” she asked.

  “Just continue to exercise caution, and keep your guard up.”

  “Why? And why aren’t you relieved this is over?” Catherine could’ve kicked herself for not noticing his apprehension sooner. As hard as he tried to appear calm, every tendon and muscle stood out rigid as an iron rail.

  “I’m not convinced of anything other than the stalking is over. Too many unanswered questions surround JC’s suicide. I can’t officially call the murder cases closed. Not until after his autopsy.”

  “The news is all over town.”

  “Catherine, this is confidential and stays in this room. We think Jessie scratched her killer. He cut off her fingernails, but the ME managed to find enough skin under her nails to get us a definitive answer.”

  “Oh. Shit. JC didn’t have any scratches.” She loosened the too-tight clip in her hair. “Did he?”