I shrugged.
“My friends run from the room the moment I enter. ‘Oh no,’ they say. ‘Escape before Julia gives us a two-hour dissertation on evisceration.’”
“You don’t do that, do you?”
“Well, if I get someone stupid enough to listen …” she said with a grin.
“Always looking for fresh meat, are you?”
“Mather, you don’t know the half of it. Anyway, give me a minute to tinkle and I’ll give you the rundown on what I’ve found.”
“You bet.”
Delphy was a fast peeer. She was back in the morgue in no time flat and ready to dazzle me with her findings. “Let’s begin with the two cadavers exhumed at Sand’s property. The male was Stuart Bloom. Dental records check, and besides, according to the DMV, the recovered car had been registered in his name.”
“Any evidence that might help us convict his murderer?”
“Several DNA samples have been sent out for analysis, but there’s nothing back yet. If I had to go out on a limb, I’d say that he was strangled, his neck crushed. Two of the thoracic vertebrae were cracked, and there was no calcification or signs of healing on either, meaning the injury took place just before he died or postmortem.”
“I see. And the female?”
“Judging by bone density, I’d say she was somewhere between thirty-five and forty-five years of age. The widespread maxillary opening suggests that the deceased was African-American. More than that, I can’t tell you right now. One of the deputies remembers a woman who used to live with Sand who was called Liv.”
“There were references to someone named Livonia Jenkins in Bloom’s files.”
She gave me a thumbs-up. “Sounds good to me. I’ll see if we can locate any of her medical or dental records. The back and right side of her head had been smashed with a blunt object.”
“Like a shovel?”
“That’s a safe bet, Mather. I mean, whoever dug the hole presumably had one handy.”
“Something Bloom did or said must’ve been the catalyst that made him kill the two of them.”
“Now if you only knew the purpose of Bloom’s visit.”
“Got it covered, Doc. Sand had just turned twenty-one and no longer needed Bloom to act as his legal trustee. Bloom had prepared documents to transfer authority of all assets back to Sand. We found the document template in his computer. But that’s no reason for a double homicide. There had to be something else that set him off.”
“Lord knows, balancing my checking statement sometimes makes me want to take a life,” she quipped.
“And now for the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, was Sand the victim in the warehouse fire?”
Delphy had a dish of snap peas. She picked one from the dish and munched it before offering them to me. She spoke while I chewed. “We haven’t been able to locate any dental records yet, but we’ll know as soon as we can compare the victim’s DNA to the DNA we found in Sand’s home—figure another two days on the test results. The victim did have cranial deformities and reconstruction consistent with severe effects of methotrexate syndrome.”
“So there’s a good chance …”
“Yes, a very good chance.”
“Well, that was easy. Almost too easy.” Sand had proven himself a cunning nemesis, one who had planned and meticulously orchestrated a series of murders. The idea of a shrewd killer burning to death in a warehouse fire just seemed too convenient.
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Mather. Say, want to grab a quick bite? I’m ravenous, and you seem like the kind of girl who could stomach an old cadaver cracker like me for an hour.”
“Sure, but remember, I carry a big gun.”
~~~
Sand had followed the female FBI agent from her hotel to the county morgue and now watched as she got into the car with another woman and drove off. He had flown under the radar for years and, to the best of his knowledge, had avoided detection by the authorities, but he knew the female FBI agent was on to him. He was still a step ahead of her, or so he presumed. A normal mind would’ve known better, but the insane are wired differently. He still thought that he could win the game he had created. Unfortunately, his ego was about to short-circuit the wiring in his brain. All I have to do, he thought, is strike first.
Chapter 81
“I love this place,” Delphy said. “Walden’s is one of the few places in town you can eat healthily and not walk away hungry. The owner uses locally grown organic meats and produce.”
I’m such a glutton. I only heard the ‘not walk away hungry’ part, the ‘locally grown organic’ part be damned. I’ve eaten my share of swill, and I don’t think it ever really did me any harm. What’s more, I’ll take a good corndog over organically raised goose pâté any day of the week. I was going back and forth between the Reuben and the Philly cheese steak, all the while praying that Delphy wasn’t one of those dainty watercress girls. I always find it embarrassing when I’m eating like a pig and the other woman at the table is picking at a junior salad. Do I smell onion rings?
It was feeling somewhat as if the case was over. It would be a couple of days before DNA came back on the burn victim, but … I mean, how many deformed psychotic black giants could there be? Still, something did not sit right with me, and I couldn’t put a finger on what it was. More than anything else it was the convenience of the solution that tore at me. There has to be more, I kept thinking. Cases never end like this.
“Oh my God. Look at this, Mather. Do you want to split the smoked mac and cheese to start? They don’t make it all the time, and it’s to die for.”
“Sure.” What the hell, I can always wash it down with a chocolate milkshake. “What’s good?”
She stared at the menu. “Well, aside from everything, I’m a big fan of the Monte Cristo—fresh turkey, locally cured ham, and pure Vermont maple syrup—how can you go wrong?”
Like me, Delphy appeared to be one of those women who could eat whatever she wanted to and not grow a second chin. “You’re so thin, Julia. What’s your secret?”
She rolled her eyes. “I really don’t know, but I’m afraid all this indulgent overeating will catch up with me one day and I’ll grow a third ass cheek.” She chuckled and then flagged down the waitress. “Let’s order, and I’ll tell you about the time I consulted on Anna Nicole Smith’s autopsy.”
“You didn’t?”
“Oh, I did,” she began with an animated expression. “I was living in Florida at the time and …”
~~~
Sand was parked across the street, a vantage point from where he could study the female FBI agent without being seen. “What are they talking about?” he fretted. He felt that he was undoubtedly the subject of their conversation and that with every passing second they were getting closer to putting him away for life. If time permitted, he would’ve devised an intricate plan to lure her to her death, but he was feeling pressured and out of his element. He had only stalked killers and was unsure about how to bait a federal agent. Sparks were igniting in his brain. Years of therapy and medication had helped him to control his rage, but he no longer had peace of mind, and the fear of going to prison and facing the death penalty had sent him tumbling out of control. He had been harassed and persecuted half his life and would not allow himself to be put in that position again, even if it meant killing a federal agent.
The restaurant was packed with diners having lunch. How do I get to her? He sat in silence for several minutes until an idea blossomed. A placard on the adjoining storefront read Women’s Choice Medical Center. An abortion clinic? A few additional moments ticked by while he quickly fashioned his plan. He opened the glove box and withdrew one of the tools in his arsenal, a TTY-type mobile text phone. It was a device used to communicate with the hearing impaired. He took a deep breath and dialed.
Chapter 82
The 911 transcription operator began reading the moment the text file appeared on his computer screen. He read it quickly and then once again
to make sure he had not misunderstood. He had received a message from a hearing-impaired device that read, “I am a Muslim extremist, and abortion is an act of treason against Allah. I have an automatic weapon in my briefcase, and I’m about to kill everyone at the Women’s Choice Medical Center.”
Chapter 83
I had barely had the chance to savor my first bite of the smoked mac and cheese when the sound of sirens filled the air. I almost choked on my food. Damn it all. “What in the world?” Everyone stopped eating and stared through the front window. Within moments a police cruiser screeched to a halt. It didn’t end there. The air continued to growl with the sound of approaching vehicles. Another cruiser pulled to a stop, and two officers jumped out. I stood and walked to the window, where I saw a SWAT vehicle rumbling down the street. I turned to Delphy and mouthed, “Be right back.” I grabbed my FBI jacket and held my credentials in plain view as I hit the street.
I approached an officer who was waiting for the SWAT truck to come to a stop. “What’s going on?”
He seared me with a cutting glance and then double-checked my ID before offering, “Terrorist threat on the women’s clinic. You’d better take cover, ma’am.” He turned and raced off to meet the SWAT van.
I was in the middle of the street reading the placard on the medical center building as police cars closed in from every direction. The threat was none of my affair, and brave cop or not, I knew better than to interfere with a tactical SWAT response. I crossed the avenue and took cover on the closest side street, where I had an excellent vantage point but was out of harm’s way. I’ve always loved watching a tactical team deploy. It reminded me of my days overseas. There was something really impressive about watching a team of SWAT officers respond to an altercation.
Their commander assigned them all to positions, and they moved out swiftly and with purpose, the thunder of their boots resonating in my ears. Within moments I saw sharpshooters appear on the opposing rooftops.
I pictured the poor receptionist, her jaw dropping and her heart skipping beats as the armed encounter team approached the reception counter. I’ve been on some of those assaults and once had to pray that we didn’t give the elderly receptionist a stroke.
I knew there’d be some waiting time while the officer in charge drew up a plan of attack. The first step would be a safe and orderly evacuation, which wouldn’t be easy in a medical facility. Patients in mid-procedure would have to be stabilized before getting transported out of the building, and there was no doubt that several patients were in recovery and still sedated. The SWAT team would then begin a compartmentalized search, going floor by floor as each level was cleared of patients and personnel.
~~~
Sand stared at her, practically burning a hole in the back of her head. Make your move. Your distraction worked, so make your move. Despite being twice her size he was tentative because he had never made such a blatant and hurried move. She’s too preoccupied to notice you. Do it! His impromptu plan ran through his mind. It was short and brutal and didn’t require elaborate rehearsal. A leather-clad billy club was concealed in his pocket. He had planned to club her and toss her into his SUV unconscious. He wanted her alive for interrogation before killing her because he needed to know what she knew. He looked around to see if anyone was watching him. No one will notice me. He waited until a stream of evacuees began to spill out of the women’s hospital before he advanced. He was closing in on her, twenty-feet, fifteen …
~~~
I had this feeling as if someone was approaching me from behind, but when I turned around, the street was empty. I turned back and saw that Delphy was hurrying toward me, holding a cell phone and waving it back and forth. What does she want? It took a moment for me to recognize the two-tone Otterbox case and realize that the cell phone was mine. “You shouldn’t be out here,” I said. “You’re a physician not a commando.”
“You’re out here.”
Do as I say not as I do. How could I make it clear to her that I was brave and a wee bit stupid? I grabbed her by the shoulder and placed her back against the building. “Okay, but let’s not give the psycho a clear shot.”
“Your phone won’t stop ringing. It’s the same number over and over again. I figured it must be important.”
She handed me the phone. It rang again before I had a chance to check the call history. Wallace. “It’s my CO.”
“You back at the racetrack, Mather?” he wisecracked.
My, but you’re in a good mood. “Excuse me?”
“Cabrera just filed his report. It looks like you’ve sewn the matter up nicely.”
“I’m not sure it’s a done deal yet, sir. It’ll be forty-eight hours before DNA confirms that the burn victim was Sand. I think I’d better stay with it until we’re sure.”
“What can I do to persuade you to get in your car and drive back to Manhattan right now?”
What can he do to persuade me? That doesn’t sound like the Wallace I know. Wallace was not one to tread lightly. He respected me, but if he wanted me to return, he would’ve just ordered me to do so. I wanted to say, “Are you okay?” but what came out was, “Is there something I should know about, sir?”
“I just got my review from Stone.”
“The deputy director?”
“He’s happy as a pig in shit, Mather. He gave me outstanding ratings across the board.”
“That’s great, but—”
“He’s free tonight and he invited us to dinner.”
“We?”
“The two of us and Cabrera.”
“When?”
“Seven o’clock. He has a flight to D.C. in the morning but wants to see you and Cabrera at Tony’s Di Napoli, 43rd near Times Square.”
I quickly checked my watch. Travel time back to the city wasn’t an issue, and I’d be able to spend a couple of nights at home before the report came back on the fire victim’s DNA. If it turned out that Sand wasn’t the victim, it was less than a three-hour drive back to Monticello. “Tony’s Di Napoli at seven o’clock, 43rd and Times Square,” I repeated. “Got it.”
Across the street the evacuation was still in progress. A few patients were being pushed out in wheelchairs. I saw a patient being transported out on a rolling gurney. That should be just about it. Several SWAT team members were positioned in front of the building, waiting for the order to enter.
“Dress sharp, Mather. I think Stone has his eye on you. Don’t come to dinner in your fatigues and hiking boots.”
Asshole. Like I might ever. “You made your point, sir.”
Wallace hung up, but at least he sounded less like a spineless wimp and more like the bureaucratic tight ass I knew and marginally tolerated.
~~~
Sand watched from the doorway of the provisions store he had ducked into, knowing that he had lost his chance to grab the female FBI agent. But he had overheard her end of the phone conversation and was already planning his next move.
Chapter 84
Times Square was a veritable paradise of characters. They were all out on display: Mickey and Minnie, Spiderman, Grover and Elmo, Strawberry Shortcake, and Super Mario. Marching down 43rd Street, and blocking traffic, a garrison of Imperial Stormtroopers led away a handcuffed Chewbacca.
I was once again behind the wheel while my colleague, a pressed and pampered Dominic Cabrera, rode shotgun. He was wearing his favorite suit, the one he called his bar mitzvah suit, and was looking quite spiffy. “I love Times Square,” he extolled. “Supple young ass as far as the eye can see.”
While stopped for a red light, Cabrera ogled a statuesque woman who was jabbering away with a friend in Spanish. “Really, that’s all you see? A Smurf is standing right next to us and the only thing you noticed is the eighteen-year-old boriqua in the skintight jeans?”
“I’ve never been big on that fantasy gibberish. I was more of a G.I. Joe kid growing up.”
“Well, you might want to make a quick study because if Stone doesn’t take a liking to us, we
may both end up wearing costumes and soliciting pocket change come this time tomorrow.”
“Relax, Mather. Open the top button on your blouse and let the girls out for some air. Put your best foot forward.”
I glared at him. “Best foot?”
He flipped down the vanity mirror and smoothed his hair back. “Semantics, Gumdrop. You get me, don’t you? You’re a fine-looking woman—use the gifts God gave you. No one says you have to bone the guy for a promotion.”
“Oh really, because I was planning on giving him a blowie under the table … asshole!”
Cabrera didn’t miss a beat. He smiled at me and cracked his chewing gum. “Before or after the main course?”
I laughed so hard that I almost missed my opportunity to pull into a parking garage and nearly cut off someone’s toes making the abrupt turn.
“And you complain about my driving?” Cabrera huffed.
“You’re in rare form.”
The ham got out of the car and bowed like a stage actor.
“Grab the ticket from the parking attendant, would ya, please?”
I saw Wallace standing in front of the restaurant and walked over to him.
Surprise, surprise, he smiled when he saw me. “How does it feel to be back in the Big Apple?” he asked.
“I’ll feel better after we have that DNA report—”
He flashed his palm like a stop sign, cutting me off before I could finish my sentence. “No negatives tonight, Mather. Remember, the glass is always half-full. Stone doesn’t make a habit of inviting field agents to dinner, so don’t make him sorry that he broke with tradition. I don’t expect you to blow smoke up his ass, but let’s keep a lid on the doom and gloom, shall we?” He turned to Cabrera. “And, Agent Clown Pants, I hope you plan on maintaining somewhat of an air of decorum tonight.”
“No worries, sir, I’ll shine class out my rectum.”
Wallace rolled his eyes. “Mather, keep one chambered and your gun pointed at him all evening. I’d rather approve the payoff on his insurance policy than have him take us all down with him.”
The Mather Triad: Series Boxed Set (Chloe Mather Thrillers) Page 47