Looking out the window, he saw he was driving past Tommygun Tavern, the place it all started. Not just the murders, but his relationship with Tina as well. He remembered the day they first met there. It was as if it was only yesterday. He smiled slightly thinking of what she wore. The way they danced.
There was no way he could ever cheat on her. It pained him to know she mentioned that earlier. Hadn’t he proved to be faithful? Didn’t she know how much he loved her? What she meant to him? Perhaps he should do a better job showing her.
But then again, there were times he feared she would cheat on him. After all, he was never around. She didn’t stay busy with work or hobbies. All she’d have to do is meet the right guy and she’d be his.
It all came down to trust. Detective Kojak always dealt with trust issues. He wasn’t sure when or how it started, but in a weird way, he believed it was what helped him be a good detective. Not trusting anyone made it easy to pinpoint the target.
But now wasn’t the time to think about all of this. He had to prepare for what he was about to see and do.
He arrived at the house the moment it started to sprinkle. In front of him were a few other police cars, all with their lights still flashing. He turned his vehicle off and sat for a moment. Patting his pocket, there felt like one cigar left. He quickly lit it and took a drag. He closed his eyes, the smell of the smoke calming him.
It felt like he was in the middle of nowhere. Not often did he make his way out to these country parts. Was this even his jurisdiction? Obviously, it must have been. Regardless, it was going to be a crime he was all too familiar with. He continued puffing on the cigar until it was gone, allowing it to mellow him out.
The moment Detective Kojak walked into the house, there were the wails of an upset woman. An officer was trying to keep her calm and provide some comfort, but it was a lousy attempt. She kept saying something to the effects of, “Chris! Chris! Not my Chris!” Trying not to draw any attention to himself, he kept walking. It was the dead body he was there to see.
It lay on the floor in the kitchen. A simple white sheet covered it. Upon lifting, he saw the man’s face was down and an arm was stretched out. He was built. No, he wasn’t a medical examiner, but from what he learned from Betsy, there was no shadow of a doubt the man was healthy but had mysteriously died from a heart attack. He checked the dead man’s neck and did see a small needle prick. Unless it was a mole. It was almost hard to tell, but that was neither here nor there at this point.
Two people from the forensics team were sweeping through the kitchen, getting fingerprints and checking for any and all kinds of evidence. He hoped they would find something that would make this an open and shut case. But from the looks of it, they weren’t coming away with anything.
“Take a look at this.”
Detective Kojak looked up to see a female officer handing him something. He stood up and took the proffered item.
“It was found just outside the pocket of his pants.”
What he saw was no surprise. It was the fifth death. He mentally ran through the list. First, Trey Cooper. Second, Ben Dahlman. Third, Parker Manscotti, which he did in fact find the card to. Fourth, Sammy Jo Brevelin. And now, fifth, this man.
“Thanks.” He half-smiled at her before she took off, staying busy.
He tapped the card against his hand for a moment, watching as all the others did what they were supposed to do.
“See to it that Betsy gets this ASAP.” He was referring to the body.
The forensics team acknowledged his request.
The woman who was crying hysterically had never quieted down. And as tough as it would be to rehash the details, Detective Kojak wanted to talk with her.
She grew silent when he approached her.
“Excuse me, ma’am? I’m Detective Randy Kojak. May I ask you a few questions?”
The woman nodded, sniffling.
“Here, let’s take a seat.” He put his hand on the small of her back, leading her to the couch. “First of all, what’s your name?” He took out his notepad and pen so he could take notes.
“Cindy. Cindy Peterson.”
“And I take it you know that man?” He pointed to the body under the white sheet.
Her answer came out in a loud sob.
His face scrunched. “Was he your husband?”
Another response dragged out by a heaving wail.
“What’s his name, Cindy?” He had to ask, although he was pretty sure it was Chris.
It was.
“Do you happen to know if anyone was mad at him? Or wanted to hurt him?”
Cindy shook her head rapidly, the large hoop earrings swinging out and in.
“Was that how you found him?” He again gestured toward the body.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Just a short while ago. I called the cops as soon as I found him when I got home.”
Detective Kojak wrote that down. “Was he ever depressed? Or talking about suicide?” A stupid question, he felt, but he had to cover all the bases.
Cindy’s face scrunched. “No.”
“Did he over drink or do any illegal substances?”
“No.” The look on her face was twisted and annoyed, almost as if she was about to ask how dare he even assume Chris would be or do any of those things.
The detective looked at his notepad, trying to think of what to ask next. He had to get more information on this Chris. “Can you tell me where he worked? What he did for a living?”
Cindy sniffed. Wiping some tears, she stated, “He was a professor at Capstone University. Everyone said he looked more like a coach than a teacher, but he loved every bit of what he did.” She tried to smile.
Red flags went up. “Did you say Capstone University?”
“Yeah, why?”
The detective shook his head. “Oh, nothing. I just wanted to make sure I got that correct.”
This news was far from nothing, though. That one piece of information gave him a link to who he thought was behind all of this: Laura Keaton.
He clicked his pen and closed his notebook. “Well, I think that’s all for now.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Standing up, he quickly walked away. Her cry was loud, but grew fainter and fainter as he made his way to his car.
It was time to make a phone call. Dialing the number, he waited for an answer.
“It’s me. Kojak. I need you to do me a favor and find out as much as you can about a Laura Keaton. She’s a professor at Capstone University, and lives at 111 Mainview Road.” He was about to hang up, but remembered, “Oh, and apply for a search warrant. I want to get inside her place as soon as possible. Thanks.”
Detective Kojak hung up. He was confident that sometime, by the end of this week, this case would be closed.
CHAPTER 20
M
id-morning on Wednesday, Laura woke up. She was laying on the couch, her head on an arm that was reaching out over empty space. Drool dripped down the side of her chin. The more she became aware, she noticed her clothes were still on. She had a massive headache. And she was alone. Although, by looks of all the messy tissues flung around the coffee table and floor, there could have been at least a dozen other people around.
What happened last night? She couldn’t remember. And with each pound of the migraine, she didn’t know if she even cared. But a part of her was a bit frightened. Who goes around losing their short-term memory? This was now her second time.
Laura slowly sat up, rubbing the sides of her head. In big bold numbers, the clock on her mantel blatantly pointed out she was late for her first class. But for the first time since she’s been a professor, she questioned if it even bothered her. Did she even want to go back? Surely the students and staff would be wary of her. She’d be seen as a black sheep. Avoided like the plague.
The decent thing she could do is at least call in to show them she still cared, even though it may or may not be true. She looked around for
her phone, but wasn’t seeing it. She felt down the couch cushions, reached down under the couch, and even rustled around some of the dirty tissues. It was nowhere.
Maybe it’s in my room. She rose to her feet, cautious. She didn’t want to fall over from dizziness. One foot in front of the other, she made it to the bedroom. The phone was on the nightstand. She took a seat and dialed the school. Thankfully, she was able to leave a message and didn’t have to talk with the secretary.
She allowed herself to fall backward on the bed. Again, she rubbed her head. Her eyes were closed, trying to recollect as many bits of information from last night as possible. But all she could come up with was that there must have been a lot of crying involved. Why else would there be so many tissues thrown about the living room? She also knew that someone else had been there because there were two glasses on the coffee table. But who was it?
Laura sighed. She needed help. This was not normal.
It had been a while since she had used her hot tub. The warm water beating against her muscles seemed appealing. Hopefully it would also help her get rid of the headache. Finding a bathing suit in her top drawer, she changed into it. She grabbed the first towel from the bathroom that would work, and headed to the back of her duplex.
The sky was cloudy. The sand was dark brown. The water was almost black. It apparently rained overnight. It looked like the sky was threatening to do so again soon, too. The whites of the seagulls were such a stark contrast to the darkness around them. They were circling the sky, gliding amidst the wind. No one was on the shore.
Laura got the hot tub ready and stepped in. Sitting in front of one of the more powerful jets, she inhaled and exhaled deeply, taking in the fresh scent of the beach. Peace and calm were two feelings that started to make their way into her mind and body. She was able to actually relax, not having to listen to the loud music from next door. It was a different feeling, but a good one.
Only a few minutes had passed when Laura overheard her phone ringing from the bedroom. She didn’t feel like getting out so decided not to worry about it. If the call was important, they’d leave a message and she’d get back to them when it was convenient for her. She closed her eyes, willing herself to unwind and let go of all the cares of the world.
The phone rang again. Once more, she ignored it. It wasn’t until the third time she decided it must be something worth answering. She grabbed her towel, and reluctantly stepped out of the tub to quickly dry off. Wrapping it around her, she strode inside much quicker than she had when stepping out. There was no way she’d reach the phone in time, but now that she was inside, she could at least see who was bothering her.
It was Cassie. Her eyebrows scrunched together. What does she want?
Laura called her back.
“Oh, thank goodness! Where are you?”
The concern and urgency in Cassie’s voice was odd. “Um, I’m at home. Why? And hi by the way.”
Cassie kept babbling. “You weren’t in class yesterday, and then I overheard someone say you weren’t in class today. When I saw the cops with the dean again, I was afraid something happened!”
“Oh, no, I’m fine. I called in sick. Bad headache.” Laura pointed to her head like Cassie could see it. She was definitely a hand talker.
“Thank goodness. I was afraid you were dead or something.”
Laura stifled a laugh. “Nope, not dead.”
In a quieter tone, Cassie asked, “Have you heard the news?”
“Um, what news?”
“About Mr. Peterson?”
“Oh, the fact he got the dean position? Yeah, I –”
Cassie quickly interrupted. “No, not that. He was found dead last night!”
Laura held the phone tighter so it wouldn’t fall to the floor. “What did you say?”
“Mr. Peterson was murdered last night.”
Her mouth hung open, but nothing came out. She had no clue what to say. However, the news was unsettling, and only enhanced the chances she’d lose her job. After all, the detective and the dean thought she was guilty for these killings anyway. The fact someone else she knew was dead would only make them feel more strongly she was the culprit.
Unless this time around there was something to prove her innocence! Laura said a silent prayer that something would help her.
“Are you still there?”
“Yes, sorry,” Laura answered. “I’m just shocked. Do they know who did it?”
“No, but some people have said…um…”
“What, Cassie? What have some people said?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I should say anything.”
Laura grew furious. “Just tell me! What are people saying?”
“Well…” After a pause, she sighed. “Some people are saying that you did it.”
Great! Just great! Now more people thought she was behind it all. Before long, the whole city of Crimson Shores would look at her as the murderer. What was she going to do?
“But if it helps,” Cassie added, “I don’t think so.”
“That’s sweet of you, but you’re going against popular opinion.”
“I don’t care. I know you. You wouldn’t harm a fly.”
Laura smiled. It was such an honor to know Cassie.
“Look, I’ve got to go. Class is about to start. But I wanted to ask if we could meet at the school library tomorrow? I’ve got a few things I want to talk with you about.”
“Yeah, that should be fine, I guess.” Now her curiosity was piqued.
“Great. See you then. I’m glad you’re okay!”
“Thanks, Cassie.”
Laura hung up with a myriad of emotions. She was upset more people found her guilty. Thankful someone believed in her innocence and was looking out for her. Interested in what Cassie all had to say. But mostly, startled.
All of these problems she’s had lately started around the time of the first murder of whatever that guy’s name was that Detective Kojak mentioned. For the life of her, she didn’t remember, but it all started when he died. Was it possible the killings and her forgetfulness/headaches were all related? Was it possible she wasn’t as innocent as she thought she was? That thought alone scared her to death.
She plopped onto her bed and brought her knees into her chest, clutching them with her arms. What was she going to do? What had become of her life?
The phone still in her one hand, she dialed her boyfriend, Connor. She had to talk with him and hear his deep, soothing voice. He’d make everything all right again.
But he didn’t answer.
* * *
The fifth sugar packet was ripped open, emptied, and thrown on the desk. Detective Kojak stirred his coffee, yawning. It had been quite the night. He didn’t make it home until past midnight. For a second, he had contemplated not even going home and going straight to the office. But his small, square, one-windowed office with no suitable furniture would not be the place to sleep. And not sleeping was obviously not the answer. Thus, he did go home. But sleep was hard to come by anyway.
As he took a sip, someone knocked on his door. He carefully put the mug down and told them to come in. It was the ghost, Mindy. As usual, her super skinny self was in dark make up, not a look he could get used to with her pale skin. She had a file folder in her hands. It was plopped onto his desk.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“From the lab.”
He wasn’t expecting anything so soon. This could be good! “Thanks.” His smile looked more like he was pursing his lips.
“Yep.” Mindy walked out, her straight, long, black hair pulled up tightly in a bun.
After she closed the door, he opened the file. It was the toxicology report from Trey Cooper. He scanned over the findings, surprised with what it told.
In the body were lethal amounts of potassium chloride that could only be achieved by an injection.
Detective Kojak started thinking of the average person. Would they even know that too much potassium chloride was deadly? P
robably not. This would have been done by someone who knows their science. Someone who knows just how much potassium chloride to inject so they could get their desired result.
Laura Keaton popped into his head. Of course, he didn’t know if she had potassium chloride. But what he did know was that she was a science professor. She’d know how much potassium chloride it would take to kill somebody.
He grabbed the phone, dialed Betsy’s number, and leaned back into his chair with his one leg crossed over the other, the cord dangling over him.
“This is Betsy Knox, Medical Examiner. How may I help you?”
“Betsy, it’s Detective Kojak.”
“Hi.” She sounded busy.
“I just received the toxicology results on Trey Cooper. The potassium chloride that was in him, being as high as it was, it would create heart attack symptoms, correct?”
“Absolutely. Too much potassium chloride messes with the electrical signals to the heart, leading to cardiac arrest. It’s actually part of what they use for lethal injections in states that have the death penalty. And I’m a hundred percent positive that was what was injected in Trey’s neck.”
“So even with a healthy body, such as Trey, it won’t matter? The heart stops?”
“Correct.”
“Now I haven’t seen the report from any of the others, but you think they’ll be the same?” the detective asked.
“Without a shadow of a doubt.” Betsy still sounded like she was working on another body. Probably Chris’s.
“I agree. Thanks for your time.”
“You’re welcome. Have a good day.”
Detective Kojak hung up, only to pick it back up and ask for the status of Laura’s search warrant. It wasn’t ready like he had hoped, but that wasn’t going to stop him from going to her place and ask more questions. And this time he wouldn’t go about this blindly. He knew exactly what he needed to ask and/or look for. And, who knows, maybe he’d even get lucky and she’d let him in to look around. He could only hope, right?
A Kiss With Death Page 15