own or Tracey’s.”
“Do you know anyone who wears boots like these,
Mary?”
“Lots of people wear these boots. Why, my brother
even has a pair…” the moment those words left her lips,
Mary’s face dropped a shade of color. The same
realization washed over Parker, as the words of the IT
technician echoed in his mind: “One of them is a photo
sent by someone named J. Bernardini just two days
before the murder. The photo displays a very creepy
table covered with photos of Tracey Newman. The
message sent along with the photo said: “I will love you
even after death do us part.”
“Lackey, may I talk to you a minute?”
Tom followed Parker to the other end of the room.
“What is it?”
“Remember the weird e-mail that Jack Little sent to
Tracey right before she died? Don’t you think it is
strange that the same man owns a pair of boots like
these?”
“It is strange, Parker, but it is only circumstantial
evidence. And our guy seems to be out of town. I was
there when you called me and his landlord said she
hasn’t seen him around in a few days. One of the
neighbors reported hearing a TV being on, but she is
eighty years old and suffering from dementia, so her
testimony is shit. We need to get into the apartment, but
we’re not going to get in there without a warrant, and
Judge Harris doesn’t dispense those too easily, as you
know.”
“Well, we need a warrant if someone knows we are
going in. But Sister Mary here might have a key.”
Parker replied matter-of-factly.
“Mary,” Tom asked as he walked back to the couch
where Mary Townsend was sitting, “do you happen to
have a key to your brother’s apartment?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Listen, Mary,” Tom said in his most paternal voice,
“between the e-mail he sent Tracey, and these boots
here, your brother Jack could be in a lot of trouble. If we
get into his place, and we find his boots, then he is off
the hook. We’re not trying to hurt him, even if you are
probably thinking the opposite right now.”
Mary thought for a moment, her eyes darting from
one side to the other of the room, as if trying to decide
between the lesser of two evils.
“If I get you inside Jack’s apartment and you find
his boots, are you going to leave us both alone?”
“If we don’t find any incriminating evidence, you
bet.”
“Let’s do it. Let’s go right now.”
Parker looked at Tom with a puzzled frown on his
face, probably more than a little confused by Mary’s
will to cooperate. Tom nodded and led the way.
The three of them got into Tom’s car and headed
south on Capital Boulevard toward the Beltline. They
arrived in Jack’s neighborhood within fifteen minutes.
An old woman with a faded housedress was outside the
building watering a potted plant that appeared as worn
out as its surroundings, with puke-colored leaves
hanging down over the cheap plastic container. When
she saw the two men knocking on Jack’s door, she
stopped watering the plant and addressed them with a
smoky voice. “If you is looking for Mr. Bernardini, he
be gone.”
“Are you the landlord?”
“Yes, Sir, that’s me alright. He owe me rent fo’ this
here month, and he gone like a thief in the night.”
Or like a murderer in the night…Tom thought, but
those words never formed into a sentence others could
hear.
“This is his sister, Mrs…Mrs…what is your name,
Ma’am?”
“Mrs. Jenkins. Herriette Jenkins.”
Tom hurried to shake her hand. “I am Lieutenant
Lackey, and this is Sergeant Parker, with Raleigh police.
We received a missing person report and we are
inquiring on the whereabouts of Mr. Bernardini.”
Parker walked up. “Wait, I was here a couple of
days ago, and the landlord I met was a different person.
A man, to be exact.”
Mrs. Jenkins pursed her lips for a few seconds, then
she said, “You met my boyfriend, William.”
“It could be.” Parker replied, before retreating
behind Tom.
“Is there any way you would allow us in, Mrs.
Jenkins? Just to take a look around?”
“You gotta warran’?”
“We just want to take a friendly look. His sister here
has a key, but we wanted to make sure it is okay with
you first.”
“It don’t bothe’ me none. Just turn off the lights
befo’ you leave.”
“We will, Ma’am. Thank you.”
Mrs. Jenkins went back to water the sick plant,
while Tom, Parker and Mary walked the rickety steps to
the front door. Mary unlocked the door and walked in
first; Tom and Parker followed her.”
The house was meticulously clean – almost too
clean for a man living alone. The blinds were closed and
the whirring sound of the window air-conditioning unit
echoed against the barren white walls. The living room
was sparsely furnished, aside from a couch, an old TV
and a small, chipped coffee table. No pictures on the
walls, no knick-knacks anywhere, no sign of books or
magazines anywhere: The place looked uninhabited.
Tom and Parker moved to the small kitchen, where—
aside from an ancient stove—the only items were an old
avocado green Formica table accompanied by two
chairs, and a small refrigerator. The bathroom was no
different. A faded blue shower curtain was the only
splash of color in an entirely white room. The only thing
on the counter suggesting occupancy was a hair brush.
When they walked into the bedroom, both Parker
and Tom froze. In front of them was a table covered
with small items and photos of Tracey, the frames of
which were darkened by the soot from nearby candles.
The candles were long extinguished, and a small pool of
hardened wax had formed a perfect circle.
“Holy crap! What the fuck is this?!” Parker almost
yelled.
Mary came around the corner, and echoed Parker’s
sentiment. “Oh my God…what is this?”
“This, ladies and gentlemen, is a shrine – a shrine
for Tracey, to be exact.” Tom explained in an even voice
even if he was a little surprised himself by their
discovery. He had seen the photo Jack sent Tracey, but
in person the table looked different, bigger and certainly
creepier. “No offense, Mary, but your brother appears to
be a little fucked up in the head.”
Mary didn’t say anything. She turned away from the
table and went to sit on Jack’s bed, as tears threatened to
erupt and ruin her masculine appearance.
Parker went to open the drawer of the bedside table
and found it locked. He pulled a small knife from his
pocket and forced the lock to open. He
used the tip of
the knife to lift a gun from the wooden enclosure.
“Well…I’ll be damned. Go grab a bag, Lackey. If I am
not mistaken a .44 Magnum is exactly the same type of
gun that shot Tracey Newman.”
Chapter 14
Tom stretched his legs under the desk in his office
and wished he could go home. Things between him and
Kathy were better but still didn’t feel the same. She
seemed very disheartened when she got home the night
before, but didn’t volunteer any information and Tom
didn’t ask. She went to bed early; Tom was sure he
heard her crying from the living room, but he made no
attempt to go into the bedroom and see if she was okay.
What was wrong with him? Kathy was the best thing
that had ever happened to him, and he wasn’t even
trying to stop himself from screwing up the relationship.
He dialed her number at the studio and waited for her to
answer.
“Hello”
“Kathy, it’s me…”
“Tom…is everything okay?”
“Yes…no…I mean, everything is okay with me, but
I don’t feel that we are okay.”
Kathy’s heart thumped violently against her chest:
Wasn’t this how things ended with Andy? Nothing is
wrong with me, Kathy, but we aren’t working out any
more…
“I guess we aren’t, Tom. Is that all?”
“No, it’s not. I wanted to know if you would like to
go out to dinner tonight. Parker told me of a nice little
restaurant not too far from home. What do you say?”
Relief spread through Kathy’s entire body and she
felt her knees soften. “I would like that. What time
would you like to go?”
“Seven, maybe? I should be out of here by then. I
probably won’t have time to go home and change, but I
can meet you there after I leave the office.”
“Seven is great. It will give me time to bring some
portraits to a reception hall before we meet.”
“Great! And Kathy? I’m sorry…”
Kathy felt tears burning behind her eyelids and she
swallowed the knot in her throat to keep her voice
steady. “I’m sorry too, Tom. The past couple of weeks
have been emotionally exhausting.”
“Yes, they have, and I really hate that my own work
issues have affected our private lives.”
“No big deal. And just so you know, I won’t be
seeing Alexis any more. It was time for me to distance
myself from the Howards anyway.” Her heart broke as
she spoke the words, but she was able to hide the pain
from Tom, somehow.
Tom smiled. “Good. I know you are attached to that
little girl, but it really is time to let go. And if I am not
mistaken, Dr. Greer said they are sending Tracey’s body
to the funeral home tomorrow, so it can be prepared to
travel home for a proper burial.”
Alexis is leaving town…
“I hope the family can overcome this tragedy. They
will if they stick to one another.”
“I am going to call them shortly to let them know
that we have a warrant for the arrest of Jack Little.”
“The guy who stalked her? Did he kill her?”
“We found the murder weapon at his house, and he
left town right before we got there. He sounds pretty
guilty to me. We also looked for a pair of steel-toed
boots his sister says he owns, but we couldn’t find any.
Meanwhile, we found a pair of the same boots in
Tracey’s storage unit, and they were splattered with
blood.”
“That’s a shame. Hopefully Tracey’s family will
find some peace now, if that’s at all possible.” Her first
thought was of Alexis, and how knowing her sister’s
killer was going to be apprehended was going to affect
her, but she brushed the thought away quickly.
“So, I will see you at seven, right?”
“Yes, where do you want me to meet you?”
“I will be parked in the Perkins lot at about 6:50;
then you can follow me to the restaurant if you want.”
“Sounds great! I’ll see you there.”
Tom hung up, feeling a bit better. Parker walked
into his office within a few seconds, bearing a handful
of papers and a somber face, his usual.
“The warrant is out to all agencies in the nation, so
no matter where our friend has gone, we will find him.”
“That’s great, but I wonder why he would choose to
hide the boots at the place where his sister lives. And
how did he get a key? According to the Barbie doll at
the management office, it was Mary Townsend who
went to ask for an extra key.”
Parker’s face appeared assorted in thought.
“Hmm…I’ve wondered the same thing, but I guess
we’ll be able to get all those bits of information in place
after we get him into custody. I’d better head back over
there. We didn’t leave anyone in charge, and you are not
planning on going back right now, are you?”
“Actually, I was hoping to take the evening off.
Things have been a little tense between Kathy and me
lately, because of the long hours and all, so I was
thinking of taking her out to dinner.”
“You do that, Lackey. I’m on my way to Little’s
house. I will call you if we find anything else.”
Tom’s phone rang just as Parker was getting ready
to leave.
“Lackey, can I help you?”
“Lieutenant, this is Officer Rogers. I am calling
from Jack Little’s house.”
“Yes, Officer Rogers. Parker is on the way. He
should be there in less than thirty minutes. Did you find
something else?”
“I think so, Sir. We found a receipt for a bus trip to
St. Louis, Missouri, in a box filled with photos of
Tracey Newman and her family. A lot of the photos are
of a young girl that looks like Tracey Newman, Sir.”
Alexis…
“I’ll call Parker and let him know, Officer. Make
sure you secure the area and you don’t let anyone in.”
Tom hung up the phone and dialed Parker’s mobile
number. “Parker, one of the uniforms just called. They
found a receipt for a bus trip to St. Louis in a box filled
with photos of Tracey’s family.”
“Sonofabitch! I wanna rip his head off with my bare
hands!”
“Yeah, me too. Are you sure you don’t need me?”
“Nah. Take care of your lady, Lackey. I’ve got this.
I’ll call you if anything comes up.”
“I’ll make sure to have my phone on. Thank you,
Parker, you’re a pal.”
Parker huffed and hung up. Tom looked at his watch
– four-thirty in the afternoon – and decided that maybe
he should leave now and go buy some flowers for
Kathy. He didn’t get flowers very often, but he knew she
liked them – white roses, especially – and tonight was
the perfect occasion to be a little romantic. Maybe he
could stop by a jewelry store and get a little trinket for
her, to
o, just to show her how important she is to him. If
he hurried, he would even have time to go home and
shower before meeting her. He grabbed his car keys and
his mobile phone and left the building. Had he stayed a
few minutes longer, he would have known that Brad
Johnson had been busted selling drugs in a seedy part of
town. When the officers searched his car, they found a .
44 Magnum inside the glove compartment. A bloodspattered T-shirt was also hidden inside a grocery bag in the trunk.
#
It was almost four-forty when Kathy looked at the
clock in her car, and she hoped to catch Dr. Greer before
he left for the day. No matter what she had said to Tom –
and no matter how much she wished she could put this
case behind her – she couldn’t just sit back and do
nothing. Dr. Greer had been very helpful when she
spoke with him on the phone, and he confirmed what
she thought: Images didn’t remain on the eye, since the
information captured was transferred by the optical
nerve to the brain, but although science couldn’t prove
that a print of the image could remain on the retina or
the iris, it didn’t disprove it either. One of Kathy’s skills
was to use different techniques to remove imperfections
of any type from photographs, so her goal was to first
analyze Tracey’s eyes with an Iriscope, and then to take
several digital pictures of each eye and enlarge them
enough to see if anything aside from the usual was
visible. She didn’t want to ask Dr. Greer on the phone if
he would allow her to take the photos—this was
something she really needed to address in person.
By the time she pulled into the parking lot of the
medical building that was almost a second home for Dr.
Greer – a decade of hearing of his insane working hours
from Tom had crystallized this image of the good doctor
in her mind – it was only five minutes before five. She
almost ran inside and asked the receptionist to announce
her. The receptionist asked her to sit in the waiting room
and she paged Dr. Greer.
Kathy looked around the room, and wondered how
anyone could spend an extended amount of time in this
place. It wasn’t gloomy or unattractive, and whoever
took care of decorating had done a good job masking the
lugubrious atmosphere into a more clinical one, but it
was still a place where death reigned supreme. She
wondered how many bodies Dr. Greer had worked on
over the course of his long career, but before she could
Killer in Sight (A Tom Lackey Mystery) Page 19