CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I saw Link Wilson from the Crime Scene Investigation unit looking around the base of the dumpster. Link is a top guy in my book. He is smart as a whip and always upbeat even when we are dealing with something like this. He’s about my age, maybe six-foot, a good looking guy, and single. If he wasn’t a cop I would be seriously interested in him but that is one of my quirky rules. I would date no other cop under any circumstances.
Yes I know, that’s kind of silly but not really. When you think about the possible long term repercussions, it just doesn’t make sense. When everything is hunky-dory there are no problems but the minute it goes south, it is the war of the roses all over again. I just refuse to put myself in that position.
“Hey Link,” I said coming up to where was bent down.
“Hi Angie. You caught this one I see. Not a very nice one,” he said placing his face almost on the road.
Obviously he thought he had found something.
“What do you have?’
“Tire tracks. Not great ones but they are there. I’m going to make a cast. It won’t be enough to match to the car but it might give us the make if they happen to be the original tires. If not, it is a wasted effort but hey, any port in a storm.”
“We sure don’t have much else.”
“I’ve got people pulling everything out of all three dumpsters. We will look though it back at the lab,” he said.
“And I thought I got to have all the fun. She obviously wasn’t killed any place near here,” I added, just making small talk.
“That’s apparent. Why chop her up that way? I never understand that part. To hide her identity?”
“To slow us down more than likely,” I told him.
“You know, I hate all this spying on Americans stuff but a national data bank of DNA sure would be useful. We could close a lot of outstanding cases if we had something like that.
“It’s the fault of our government. No one trusts them any longer. They have done so many illegal things that people are suspicious of everything they do. If they were honest to begin with, they wouldn’t have the fight on their hands they do about almost everything. They brought it upon themselves,” I said.
“Now don’t get on your soap box. Besides, I happen to agree. They have lied to the American public so often it’s impossible to know when they are telling the truth.”
“Now who is getting wound up?”
“Just saying,” he replied.
“So, if you can lift that, and it is the original tire that came on the car, do you really think you can determine the make?”
“Pretty sure. It’s very wide so that helps eliminate most normal cars. We are probably looking at some kind of sports car.”
“A Corvette?” I asked, suddenly interested.
“Maybe. Now days lots of sports cars have fat tires. Look at Vipers and Porsches. There are a lot of cars with big tires driving around.
“Knowing the kind of car would be a big help,” I said like he didn’t already know that.
“Yeah, I kind of figured that.”
“Sorry.”
“No problem. I know you want to get a handle on this. Time is always the enemy.”
“You are right about that. We just got pulled off the Milliken case because we weren’t making enough progress,” I told him.
“Budgets.”
“I hear you.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as we have something,” he said standing up and heading to get his materials for making the cast.
I found Dan talking to some pretty little patrol officer. She was batting her eyes at him and he was lovin’ it. The no cop dating rule is mine, not Dan’s. He is a big boy and he can do what he wants.
“Time to go Romeo,” I said.
“Right with you Detective Bartoni,” he said.
Detective Bartoni? Detective Bartoni? Well isn’t that something. I don’t think he has ever called me that before. I saw her hand him a slip of paper. How cute, passing notes just like in class. I wondered why she didn’t fold in one of those little squares like we used to.
***
I managed to quietly sneak into the ME’s lab while he was working on the headless woman from the night before. Using all of my stealth abilities, I was able to get within about three feet of him while he had his back turned. This was going to be great. I would scare the heck out of him.
“Get any closer Bartoni and you will be missing your head too,” he said without looking up from what he was doing.
“How…”
“Oh give me a break. I knew the second you opened the door.”
“Bull. How?”
“The air pressure changes when the door is opened. When no one said anything I knew it had to be you. You are the only one that thinks they can outfox me. You have a long way to go Detective Bartoni.”
“Geez, you missed your calling. You would have made a heck of a detective.”
“Better than you, dunderhead.”
“Now don’t get personal. So what have you got?”
“For one thing she is not in the DNA database,” Sorenson told me.
“Of course not. That would have been too easy.”
“There are no apparent wounds to the body. She must have been killed some other way. I’m guessing some sort of blunt force trauma.”
“Guess we won’t know until we find the head. What else do you have?” I asked.
“I’m listing her height as around 5-9, weight, using averages, around one hundred and twenty-five pounds. She is obviously a natural blonde,” he said. Blood type O+. There will be more after I have time to really start digging in, so to speak.”
“Aw, that is so bad, even for you,” I said.
“Hey, give me a break. I’m getting old. I’m running out of material,” the Doc said.
“Think I’ll just wait for the report. Have fun,” I said heading out.
I usually leave Dan back at the station or in the car. For a big tough guy he has the weakest stomach of anyone I know. He has gone with me maybe a dozen times now and he ends up either passing out or throwing up. I find it easier not to have him come inside with me.
***
“The crime scene report is in,” Dan said.
“Anything promising?” I asked.
“A couple of things. They couldn’t get enough of the casting to determine the brand but they could tell us the width. They are 275’s or 285’s.”
“Yikes. That’s huge. That ought to narrow the field down some.”
“You would think, but with so many people changing out rims and using spacers, they could have been on lots of different makes.”
“Come on. How many could shove 275/287’s under the wheel wells?” I said.
“Apparently a bunch. I am running a check right now to see what cars can handle that kind of tire width.”
“Do you know what size my Healey has? 185’s and that is bigger than they are supposed to be,” I told him.
“See. There you have the problem. It’s the same with all cars now days unless they are right off the showroom floor or haven’t had any modifications done to them. Give a kid a car and the first thing he does is change the wheels.”
“Isn’t anything ever easy,” I said plopping down at my desk.
“Apparently not,” Dan replied.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
We got the list of cars that could use the 275/285 tires and again it was discouraging. Everything from Lexus, Porsche, BMW, to modified Mustangs, could make them work.
“We are going about this the wrong way,” I told Dan.
“Glad to hear you say that because I am getting a headache from beating my head against the wall.”
“Let’s eliminate the cars that are too small to carry a body.”
“Unless that’s why they chopped her up,” he said.
I closed my eyes and dropped my chin to my chest. It all seemed so clear to me. Things like Porsches, Vipers, and Mustangs could be eliminated by v
irtue of practically no trunk space. That seemed logical until Dan just had to mention the missing head, hands, and feet.
Drat, foiled again. It just seemed like everything was going against us.
“Are Austin Martins on that list?” I asked.
“Come on Angie, those along with a great deal of others.”
“What if it was Kimmi Coleman’s body in that dumpster?”
“Angie, you’re grasping at straws.”
“So what? What else have we got to grasp at? Give her a call and see if she is home. If she is, that settles that.”
“Even if she isn’t, it sounds like she has a pretty active social life if you want to call it that,” Dan said.
“Just do it, okay?’
“Okay, okay,” he said dialing the number we had for her.
It rang three times then kicked over to the answering machine. The usual yada-yada-yada, leave your number came over the line.
“Not home,” Dan said.
“No kidding. I’m a detective, I figured that much out.”
“So we are going to visit her?”
“You got something better to do?”
“Let’s go,” was all he said.
***
Dan and I have been partners for going on four years now. He has grown to be a good partner and one I trust and that is really difficult for me. I guess that is what shocked me so much while we were riding to Kimmi Coleman’s house.
“Angie, can I ask you a personal question?”
“Geez Dan. I don’t know. What kind of personal question?”
“You know. Deep stuff.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” I said looking at him.
“About relationships and things.”
“Are you wondering why I don’t have a boyfriend or something?”
“Sort of. I mean this rule of no dating cops, it just doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. Why not? If anyone can understand what you are going through it would be another cop,” he said.
“I’ve told you before. It isn’t the relationship itself. It is when it ends. Then life is miserable for both of you. I just can’t see putting myself in that kind of situation. It’s like politicians and people that work in the same office. It’s all love and smooches when things are going well but the minute it starts to fall apart, it becomes a war of not only words but of viciousness. Why would anyone want to do such a thing?”
“Angie you are so pessimistic. Look at Alice and Don Schilling. They have been together for seven years now and they haven’t had a bit of trouble,” Dan pointed out.
“Dan, sometimes you are such a dunderhead. Have you ever really watched Don Schilling around the cute female officers? Do you have any idea how many times he has hit on me? Their relationship works because she doesn’t want to know. Alice seems pretty laid back but one day she will catch him in the act and she will shoot his dumb butt.”
“Don Schilling does that?”
“Absolutely. Open your eyes the next time he is around some hot looking officer. He all but drools on the front of his shirt. Of course he doesn’t do it when Alice is around. He may be dumb but he isn’t stupid,” I told him.
“What happened between Dr. Warman and you?”
“He wanted to get married. I didn’t. That is pretty much it in a nutshell.”
“I mean, why didn’t you?”
“I don’t totally understand it myself, Dan, so I can’t explain it to you. He was good looking, attentive, smart, and fairly wealthy, everything a girl could want, but something didn’t feel right. He had all those nurses chasing after him. How long would he hold out?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake Angie, you will never have a relationship if you look at marriage like that. Come on. You can’t spend your life worrying about things like that.”
“You are wrong Dan. I can. I will make the commitment when I feel that I can totally trust the right person. Jumping into bed for fun is one thing but when you are talking about getting married, I want it to be forever, not let’s just give it a shot and see how it works out.”
“Angie, you were born in the wrong era. You should have been around in the 50’s.”
“I don’t think that would be such a bad thing,” I said.
Thankfully we were at Coleman’s house. There was no car in the driveway but the garage doors were down.
“Shall we?” I said, heading up to the house with Dan right behind me.
“Oh-oh,” I said pointing at the door.
“Not good,” Dan replied.
It looked like the door had been kicked in. It was pretty massive, so it wasn’t easy to do. We both took our weapons out.
“Call for backup,” I told Dan.
It was a waste of words; he already had his cell phone out and was calling.
“We should wait,” I said putting just the tip of my finger on the door to shove it open a little further.
I could see that a violent struggle had taken place. Pictures were knocked off the wall in the foyer and a table was overturned. The vase was shattered and the flowers and water were spilled across the tile floor.
Dan looked over my shoulder.
“Doesn’t look good,” he said, “I don’t hear anything. Maybe we should go in.”
“We wait,” I told him.
It was almost fifteen minutes before the first patrol car arrived. I was a little miffed at the amount of time it took but decided to not get all worked up.
“Dan and I are going in. I want you,” I said to one of the officers, “To go around back and cover the exit. You, cover the front.”
We were just about ready to go in when two more cars showed up. I gave them instructions to cover all the exits including the garage.
“Ready,” I said to Dan and he shook his head.
I put on one rubber glove in case I had to pick something up or open another door. No use making it harder than it had to be for CSI. I shoved the door the rest of the way open
“Police, is anyone in the house?”
Nothing.
“This is the police. We are coming in,” I yelled but still no answer.
I nodded to Dan and I went in first with him right behind me. I took the first room to the right. It was a den or office.
“Clear,” I yelled.
Dan was doing the same thing. We went through the entire downstairs and then made our way to the upper part of the house. We made sure every room, closet, and cranny was clear before either of us relaxed.
The place was totally ripped apart. Pillows were slashed, books pulled off shelves, and clothes strewn in the middle of the floor.
“Nothing,” I said to Dan.
“A heck of a fight or search took place.”
“I think someone was looking for something. Look at the bed and pillows. They were trying to find something important.”
“No blood,” Dan pointed out.
“Yeah. Another one of those ‘just vanished’ into thin air things. We seem to be getting a lot of that lately.”
“Do you think this was done by the same person?”
“You mean, do I think Ed Milliken did this? Look at it this way, his three wives vanished without a trace and now his ‘friend’ has vanished. I’m betting that the body in the dumpster belonged to Kimmi Coleman,” I told him.
“I guess it could be. She was a natural blond.”
“Oh that’s disgusting,” I said slugging him on the arm.
“Hey, she is the one that opened the door.”
“Well you didn’t have to study her so thoroughly.”
“Just doing diligent police work, Detective Bartoni.”
“That’s probably what you will claim when they arrest you for being a peeping tom someday.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
We went through the house room by room looking for any signs of blood or any indication that Kimmi had been home at the time of the trashing of her house. We found absolutely nothing.
“Nada,” I said.
�
��Zilch,” Dan replied.
We stood and waited for CSI to show up. Thirty-five minutes later I saw Link walking up the sidewalk.
“What in the world? This is the third time I’ve seen you on a case. Two years and nothing and now three for three. What gives,” I asked.
“Shorthanded, vacations, fired two lab workers for faking results. Just routine stuff.”
“You found two people actually changing the lab results?”
“Yeah. Fortunately we found it before it went to court so there was no foul. I sent them packing,” Link told me.
“Geez, that could have been really serious.”
“Yep. They are going to do some time. Probably not much, but still, it sends a clear signal to anyone else thinking about fudging results for a few dollars.”
“Where in heck have all the ethics gone?” I asked.
“Right out the window with morals, I think. Seems like all the things we were taught are no longer valid,” he replied.
“All I can say is that you sure have your hands full with this one. The place is absolutely a disaster.”
“Any blood?”
“Not a drop that we could find.”
“You know, we aren’t really going to get much out of this. I will take it all down to the lab and do our usual tests but I sure wouldn’t hold my breath. Whoever did this was probably in a body suit and had gloves on. I’m pretty sure we won’t find anything of value.”
“Well, she was a glorified hooker, so you might get a lot of prints. Maybe we can find out who some of her clients were that way,” I told him.
“You think one of them had something to do with this?”
“I’m not sure, but I suspect that the body we found in the dumpster belongs to the woman who lives here, Kimmi Coleman.”
“Ah, the plot thickens,” Link said.
“Yes it does.”
“Maybe she got greedy or did something stupid and they decided to do her in then came back and looked for records or one of those mythical little black books.”
“You could very well be right,” I replied.
“Just don’t expect a report on what we find on your desk the first thing in the morning. This is going to take some time. I doubt that we will get to it before next week unless this is a red ball.”
VANISHING ACT - Angie Bartoni Case File # 11: Angie Bartoni Case File # 11 (Angie Bartoni Case Files) Page 7