by Mark Tufo
Eckerson finished slipping his boots on and picked up his coffee again, “Okay, so fill me in. What’s going on this time?”
“Got a call about a DB behind the Dairy Queen.” Jon suddenly turned serious. “This one is not pretty.”
“So we’re pretty sure it’s the same guy?”
Foo raised an eyebrow at him. “No physical evidence, reproductive organs ripped off and he’s been essentially turned inside out and tied to the overhead electrical lines with his own intestines,” he repeated what the day shift dispatcher had told him. “You tell me.”
Eckerson blanched. “Yeah. Sounds like the same guy.”
Jon shook his head. “You don’t think it’s a guy anymore either, so don’t play that with me.” He turned and headed to the door.
“What makes you say that?”
“Dude, it’s all over your face.”
Eckerson shot him a sideways look. “My official response is…you have to have a body to create a body.”
“And your unofficial response?”
“I don’t believe in ghosts.” He pulled the door shut behind him.
*****
“Sweet,” Ginger said as she sat behind her computer.
“What’s sweet?” Quinn asked.
“There was another murder last night,” Ginger said not looking up from her computer.
“That is most certainly not sweet,” Quinn sounded totally disgusted. “How can you think that is sweet?”
Ginger pulled her eyes away from her screen and stared at Quinn. “Our specter is still active. Should we wake Calvin?”
Quinn sighed and looked back toward the rear bedroom. She glanced at her watch and shook her head. “Probably not. I’m sure if it’s a fresh kill, the police are all over it.”
“There might be some kind of ectoplasmic residue we could capture before it dissipates.”
Quinn chewed at her bottom lip. She glanced back at the door and then at Ginger. “Is it true what he said about you?”
“That I’m incredibly good looking and a hellcat between the sheets? Yes. That is all 100% true.” She deadpanned. “But don’t worry. It’s just sex. There’s absolutely no emotion involved.”
Quinn stared at her slack-jawed, her bottom lip quivering. After a moment Ginger laughed. “Relax, Juliet! I was just messing with you.” She sat back and sipped at her iced espresso. “What did he say?”
Quinn tried to shake off Ginger’s taunt, but found it increasingly difficult. “That you have this…gift. That you can sense things.”
“Oh, that. Yeah, it’s true.” Suddenly her gaze narrowed. “Why?”
Quinn lowered her voice. “Well, I was just thinking.” She motioned Ginger closer and lowered her voice still more. “It might be a bit odd if three strangers suddenly appeared at a crime scene, sniffing about. But if only one stranger showed up and was very coy about it. Especially one who had a sense for when she might be catching the attention of the authorities…” she trailed off.
Ginger smiled at her and nodded. “I gotcha.” She hopped up from the table and shut her laptop. “Say no more. I’ll go scout around and see what I can sniff up.” She scooped up her backpack and began shoving specific items in it.
“What all are you going to take?”
“EMF detector, ectoplasmic sampler, RF detector, you know, the usual. I’m just going to take the smaller gizmos and make sure that when I scan the area, I’m not being watched.”
Quinn nodded and handed Ginger a two-way radio. “Keep in contact, okay?” She checked both radios to ensure they were fully charged. “If you find anything at all, radio me so I can make note of it. I’ll put it in the logs straight away, intensity, strength, whatever.”
“Right. Will do.” Ginger hooked the radio to her belt. She glanced around the RV to make sure she had everything. “Okay. How do I look?”
“Like a hot little college student,” Quinn said. “What look were you going for?”
“Um, dumbass redneck hillbilly hick?” she teased. “You know, when in Rome…”
“Oh, that is NOT nice.”
Ginger shot her an evil smile. “I’m not a nice person. The sooner you learn that, the sooner you’ll be able to accept me as your lord and master.” She waggled her eyebrows.
*****
Ben had started the book at Ruby’s, worked his way through half a pot of coffee, two pieces of pecan pie, a small chunk of peach cobbler and eventually worked his way home where he stayed up the rest of the night reading, studying and making notes. By the time he had correlated all the names from the gang Simon Miller had ridden with and traced it to the men ‘allegedly’ used to abduct and kill Sheriff James ‘Two Guns’ Tolbert, he had come to a shocking conclusion; the names listed in the book that Ruby had given him matched the list of names that he had of the assailants killed in the commission of their crimes. Rather, their last names were matches.
He was exhausted as he put aside his study materials and finally crawled into bed. He glanced at his alarm clock and realized he was already past his wake up time. He pulled the blinds on his windows and decided that his next duty shift would have to be a night shift. He was simply too damned tired to force himself to work a day shift today.
He had just removed his boots and was pulling off his socks when his cell phone chirped. He sighed heavily and checked the number. It was Buffy Hardin. The paralegal that had recently been attacked in her own apartment.
He flipped open his phone and before he could say hello, she was speaking, “Is this newest murder tied to what happened at my place?”
“I’m sorry?” he asked. “Could you run that by me again?”
“This latest murder,” she repeated. “It’s all over the radio. Is it related to the attack that happened at my place?”
He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Honestly, Ms. Hardin, I just don’t know,” he said truthfully. “I’ve been working on another lead, and this is the first I’ve heard of another murder.” He began pulling his socks back on and reached for his boots. “But I’m about to go out and investigate it and I’ll find out.”
“Please, if you find out anything…anything at all, let me know.”
“I will, ma’am,” he promised.
They said their good-byes and he hung up. He had no sooner put his cell phone down when it chirped again. He checked the caller ID and it was Nancy Adams, the owner-manager of the movie theater. He dropped his head and sighed again. Flipping the phone open, he answered, “Yes, Ms. Adams, can I help you?”
“This latest murder? Is it tied to the attack that…”
“I don’t know yet, but I’m looking into it,” he said. “I promise I’ll let you know if I find out anything that will help in your case.”
“You promise?”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise.”
“Thank you Constable.”
“No problem.” He had just hung up when it chirped again. He glanced down and saw that it was his cousin Alethea. He shook his head and stretched his neck.
“Good heavens this is going to be a long freakin’ day.”
*****
Scott stepped over the crime scene tape and studied the body tied to the electrical lines leading to the brick building. If not for the musculature, he’d never know that the body had once been a male. The skin had been removed from head to toe, the abdominal cavity hollowed completely and the sexual organs removed from the carcass. The eyes, unable to close had been cooked by the power flowing through the lines until their color was no longer discernible. They now stared lifelessly as grey-white orbs, nearly matching the teeth that seemed to snarl in a continuous smile of death.
He looked below the body and saw the black blood that had dripped under it and puddled into a fly covered mess…a very small puddle suggesting that whatever had occurred to this person had to have happened somewhere else and then the body staged here.
He noted that the wrists and ankles were bound with what appeared to be intestines, the mesenteries torn
jaggedly between them to free them from each other, the free ends also ripped jaggedly as though torn, not cut with a knife.
Scott moved closer and couldn’t help but notice that the flies were avoiding the body itself. They were all over the trash surrounding the body. Some were so thick as to swarm into his eyes and threaten to enter his mouth or try to crawl into his nostrils, but they avoided the exposed meat of the body entirely.
“Strange, isn’t it?” Guffey stated as he moved in with the gurney, a body bag laid out across it.
“Which part?” Scott asked, trying to keep his mouth closed to avoid the flies. They were obviously attracted to the meat, but wouldn’t go for the bait.
“How the flies are everywhere except the obvious.” Guffey swatted at the flying nuisances.
Scott pointed below to the puddle of blood. “They don’t seem to mind that so much.” He swatted at the flies covering the puddle and watched a dark cloud swarm suddenly then descend again just as rapidly.
Guffey scratched at his chin and shook his head. “Damndest thing I ever saw.” He spat and choked, turning his head to clear the insects that had flown into his mouth. “Stupid flies.”
“Keep your teeth clenched when you talk,” Scott said, still examining the corpse. He pulled the body slightly back and looked behind it. It was totally skinned, the meat having dried to the warm brick wall and sticking. “What do you make of this?”
Guffey had just cleared his sinuses and held a cloth to his mouth and nose. Tilting his head back to look through his glasses better he shook his head. “It would have taken someone pretty damned strong to do this.” He gave Scott a knowing look. “Or a couple of somebodies. Have you found any physical evidence on any of these yet?”
“Not yet.” Scott stood erect and stretched. He glanced over Guffey’s shoulder expecting to see the Ranger that his men told him about walking on the scene any minute. “I’m not real big on sharing cases, but at this point, if DPS can help, I’m all for it.”
Guffey shot him a questioning look. “With sharing cases? I thought DPS took them over and left you and yours in the dark like a mushroom?”
Scott shot him a smirk. “Justin claims that this Ranger is only going to assist us,” he informed the examiner. Crooking his head toward the approaching pair, he added in a lowered voice, “I’m not buying it, but as long as we’re included ‘til the end, I don’t care.”
Justin stepped closer and swatted at the swarming flies. “Grief they’re horrible.”
“I guess it’s to be expected when you have a meatsicle melting in the sun.” Sanders stood back and carefully observed the scene. “Was the scene examined for evidence?”
Scott bit back the desire to pop off a smart assed reply. “Yeah, we searched every direction and other than scattered trash, there wasn’t much. We’re going to remove his bindings and send them to the lab for analysis.”
Sheryn peered hard at the victim’s wrists and ankles. “Is that his intestines?” Her face contorted into a grimace.
Guffey turned to her and nodded. “It appears to be. And since there aren’t any other bodies around, my guess would be that they’re the victims.”
“I hope he was dead before the killer did that.”
Justin pulled closer to her ear and replied, “Going by this asshat’s MO, chances are, he was still screaming when he was skinned and bound.”
She shuddered and turned away. “There is something fundamentally not right about this guy.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t want him to babysit anytime soon either.”
*****
Jon tried not to act bored as he stood at the alley’s entrance preventing any rubbernecking passersby from entering to peer at the crime scene. He sipped at the coffee that Eckerson made them stop for on their way over and nodded, thinking to himself that perhaps he could learn to actually like the taste of the stuff if it was made like this.
The perky redhead that stood at the corner of the alleyway made no attempt to enter but she was definitely up to something. He hadn’t noticed her at first but he heard the device she held in her hand click and she continued to point it toward him and down the alley. He narrowed his gaze to see if it was a camera, but whatever it was, he couldn’t quite identify it. She turned and tucked the device into her backpack and pulled something else out, aiming it down the alley as well. He watched her a moment and stole a quick glance behind him before setting his coffee aside and approaching her.
“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to move along,” he said, trying to sound authoritative.
She glanced up at him and smiled brilliantly. “Really?” she asked, lowering the device. “Am I breaking any laws?”
Foo sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Seriously, you need to move along. No rubbernecking. We have a crime scene here.” He waved his hand, indicating she needed to move.
She glanced down at the yellow crime scene tape and then at her feet. “I’m on the right side. As far as I know, I haven’t crossed the force field.”
Jon shook his head. “Come on. Don’t give me grief.”
Ginger broke into a toothy grin. “Oh, sugar, if I were giving you grief, you’d definitely know it. Besides, a girl can’t help it if she wants to get a couple snaps of a set of gams like that, now can she?” She glanced knowingly down at his hips.
Jon flushed and swallowed hard. He’d never experienced someone quite so brazen. “I, uh…I’m not sure what you…”
“Your butt, darling. It’s cute,” she quipped, smiling broader and knowing that she had caught him off guard. “Wouldn’t mind sinking my teeth into muscular cheek like that, if you know what I mean.”
Jon stammered a moment then stiffened. “I’m sorry, miss, but you need to go. Now!” He pointed along the sidewalk.
Ginger smiled again and then crossed her arms. “You’re just gonna have to make me.”
“Trouble here?” Eckerson asked as he came alongside Foo.
“No, no trouble,” Jon answered a little too quickly. “I was just asking the nice young lady to move along.”
“And I was telling him that if he wanted me to go, he was going to have to step on this side of the tape and make me,” she said, smiling.
Jeff looked at the two of them and shook his head. “Seriously?” he asked, not necessarily directing his question at either of them.
“Yup,” Ginger said, broadening her smile.
Eckerson smiled back and bumped Jon. “Be careful there, buddy. I think she could take you,” he whispered, causing Jon’s face to flush even brighter.
Foo exhaled hard and glared at Jeff as he turned and sauntered back to the other milling detectives. “Your handler?”
Foo shook his head. “Partner.” He turned and gave her a softer look. “Please, will you just go on before you get me into trouble? The sheriff is on this scene and my only job is to keep the mouth of this alley clear. Yes, you’re right. You have every legal right to stand there and look…cute as hell. But I’d really appreciate it if…”
“Yeah, yeah, okay.” She threw her hands up. “But look, before I go, let me give you this.” She dug into her backpack and pulled out a business card. “Right now you probably don’t want to hear anything I have to say, but when you and your friends get desperate enough to listen to the truth, give my cell a call.” She handed him the card. “You might be surprised what you can learn when you stop trying to be the know-it-all type.”
“Who said I think I know it all?”
“You wear a badge, don’t you?” She shot him a wink and blew him a kiss. She zipped up her bag and turned to leave, but then paused. “You know, you don’t have to wait. If you decide you want to meet some time for coffee or dinner or something, you can call me.” She winked at him again then disappeared around the corner.
Jon flipped the business card over. Ginger Lynch, Psychology Dept. UCLA. “What the hell is she doing out here?”
“What is who doing where?” Eckerson asked, startling him.
&nb
sp; “Jeez…I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“So who was the cutie-patootie?”
“Psychologist, I think,” Jon said, handing him the card.
“What the hell did she want? Gonna shrink your noggin?”
Jon snorted. “Claimed she was taking pictures of my butt.”
Eckerson exaggeratedly looked at Jon’s behind. “Yeah, it’s nice an all, but I can’t see anybody wasting film on it.”
“It was digital, smart ass.”
“So’s your mom. No wait…that was too lame. Even for me,” he muttered as he walked back to the scene.
“Ya think?” Foo shot back. He flipped the card over in his fingers and glanced back around the corner hoping to catch another glimpse of the sassy little gal, but she was long gone.
17
Constable Chris Anthony sat atop the hill overlooking the home of Jerrod Miller, his ghillie suit blending him perfectly with the local vegetation. He slowly placed the long range optics to his eyes and stared down at the property, focusing on trees and rocks just beyond the back of Miller’s property. Anthony snorted to himself at the clumsiness of the two men, sitting behind the stump, drinking beer and occasionally slapping at each other. The larger one was obviously the one in charge, but neither one appeared to be blessed with an overabundance of brains.
Chris decided that his tactics were overkill since neither of these two idiots would ever notice him watching them. He reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved his cell phone. Punching the number for Jerrod Miller, he waited for the line to pick up.
“Miller residence,” a heavily accented woman’s voice said.
“Mr. Miller please.”
“I’m very sorry, but Mr. Miller is not at home at the moment.”
Chris sighed. He knew that she had been informed to never tell people that he wasn’t there, rather to tell people that he couldn’t come to the phone at the moment or that he was indisposed. Even if the caller knew for a fact that Miller was gone, it would give the impression that she was covering…or maybe not.