Dying Games (Jefferson Tayte Genealogical Mystery Book 6)

by Steve Robinson

  ‘We’ll be sure to look into it,’ Reese said, ‘but right now I need you to stay exactly where you are while we go and take a look at your car. You too, Mavro.’

  Tayte nodded. Then, as the three Special Agents headed towards Tayte’s car, he said, ‘Shouldn’t you call the bomb squad in? What if it’s booby-trapped?’

  Reese turned back. ‘That crossed my mind, but I’m pretty sure this killer wants us to find a body, not blow us all to kingdom come.’

  ‘Right,’ Tayte said, automatically taking a step back, just in case Reese was wrong.

  ‘It’s a nice car,’ Mavro said. ‘Lots of chrome, whitewall tyres. I love the white hardtop.’

  Tayte knew Mavro was trying to take his mind off what was going on, to calm him down, but it wasn’t working. He took two steps closer as the agents reached the vehicle, his eyes wide with anticipation as Reese snapped on a pair of latex gloves. Tayte watched him move around to the driver’s side of the vehicle and look in the window. He seemed to study the lock area briefly before he came around to the back again.

  ‘He’s opening the trunk,’ Tayte said a moment later.

  ‘Yeah, I can see,’ Mavro said.

  As it popped open, all three agents reeled back. Tayte’s nerves were so on edge that he reeled back with them, but nothing exploded. Instead, all three agents instinctively covered their mouths and noses, and at once Tayte knew they had found another body. He watched them step closer again. One of the agents shone his torch inside, his free hand still firmly over his face. Tayte saw Reese produce what appeared to be a penknife just before he leaned further in. A few seconds later, Reese recoiled again and slammed the lid shut. The sound echoed around the otherwise quiet space, jarring Tayte’s nerves further. Reese came back after that, leaving the other two agents by the car. One of them was on his radio, calling it in.

  The sour expression on Reese’s face said it all. ‘I don’t want to disturb the scene, so right now I can’t tell you for sure if that’s Kelly Uttridge in there, but I have little doubt that it is. There’s a cardboard box inside, sealed with duct tape. From the glimpse I had when I cut the corner of the box open, I know it’s a woman. The blonde hair I saw fits with Kelly’s description, and I don’t need a coroner’s report to tell me she’s been dead for some time. We never had a chance to save her.’

  ‘She was sealed inside a box and suffocated,’ Tayte said under his breath. ‘Just like the infant in her family tree from 1935.’

  ‘So it would appear,’ Reese said. ‘As far as your car’s concerned, none of the locks appear to have been forced, so maybe the killer did steal the key from your apartment. And he chose his parking bay well. The car’s parked right next to one of the ventilation ducts to mask any smell that might have escaped as the body began to decompose—not that I could smell anything untoward before I opened the trunk.’ He paused and looked directly at Tayte. ‘Mr Tayte, there’s a large envelope taped to the box. It has your name on it.’

  Chapter Six

  As soon as Tayte returned home with Mavro he went straight to the drawer in his kitchen where he kept his spare car key, anxious to know whether it was still there. The second thing he did was call Reese.

  ‘My spare car key’s right here where I left it,’ Tayte said, dangling the key in front of him as he spoke. ‘If whoever put that poor woman in the trunk of my car used this key to steal it, then they put it right back where they found it.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound too likely,’ Reese said. ‘Unless our killer is deliberately trying to mess with your head. Any sign of a break-in?’

  ‘Nothing obvious. I was tired when I got home last night, though, and I was focused on putting that list together for you. I’ll take a better look around with Ms Mavro now.’

  ‘Okay, well you let me know if you find anything. I’ll have the lock-up where you keep your car checked. Someone might have seen something.’

  ‘They have CCTV.’

  ‘Great. Maybe they picked something up. Stay put until I call. I’ll let you know as soon as the lab’s done with that envelope.’

  ‘I will,’ Tayte said, eager to know what it contained, and why it had specifically been addressed to him this time.

  He ended the call and started thinking over what Reese had just said about the killer messing with his head. If that was true, then it was working. His clients and their relatives were dying left, right and centre, and somewhere deep inside him that really hurt. The Genie could have stolen just about any car to stage the murder of Kelly Uttridge, but he’d chosen to take his Thunderbird, possibly with the spare key from his apartment.

  What if the killer really has been here?

  It was still the only way Tayte thought anyone could know so much about his former clients. Whoever was doing this clearly had good knowledge of his victims’ family histories.

  Mavro was working the coffee machine as Tayte turned to her. ‘Can we put a hold on that coffee while we check if anyone’s been in my apartment?’ He went to the window, keen to know the answer.

  ‘Sure,’ Mavro said. ‘It looks pretty clean though. If anyone was here while you were away, they did a very good job of tidying up behind themselves before they left.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’d like to be absolutely certain.’

  They checked each room together on the principle that two pairs of eyes were better than one; if either of them missed something, the other might not. The apartment was in a small three-storey corner block with windows on three sides. The kitchen and file room backed on to one another and both looked out on to a side street, the view to which was mostly blocked by trees. The living area had a window above a lawned space and the steps that led down to North Carolina Avenue. Finally, there was a small obscured window in the bathroom at the back of the apartment that faced a tidy, but featureless, communal garden Tayte had never used.

  It was an older property with quarter-panel sash windows. They checked the thumb bolts on each window and all were locked down tight and secure. The glass panes were all intact. Nothing was broken. They checked the main door to the apartment last as they came back into the living area that was home to Tayte’s couch, his crowded bookcase, and a few paintings here and there of Native Americans that he kept as a reminder of his country’s history and its people, respectful of the land in which he lived, and of those who had lived there before him.

  ‘Nothing amiss here, either,’ he said, closing the door that led into the hallway outside. The door was solid and showed no signs of damage or forced entry.

  ‘We should talk to your neighbours,’ Mavro said.

  ‘I don’t really know anyone too well.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. We just want to know if anyone saw or heard anything unusual or suspicious while you were away.’

  Tayte nodded, doubting anyone even knew he’d been gone. ‘Do you want to grab that coffee first?’

  ‘Sure, why not.’

  Tayte marched back into the kitchen and returned a moment later with two cups. Mavro was sitting on the couch. He handed her one of the cups and slouched down beside her. Neither of them spoke as they sipped their hot coffee. Tayte just stared at the bookcase in front of him, deep in thought, trying to think if there was any other way the Genie could have known who his clients were. Nothing came to him. He didn’t even keep a list. There were just his files. Lots of them. A moment later, Tayte’s eyes focused on one of the books in the bookcase. What he saw made him sit bolt upright. He stood up and went to it. It was one of his favourites: an old copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, bound in a plain blue jacket.

  ‘I don’t know how he got in, but he’s been here,’ Tayte said. His eyes fell on another book, further along. It was a well-thumbed copy of Gentle Ben by Walt Morey: another cherished title from his childhood. ‘These two books aren’t level with the rest. I always put them back so they’re flush.’

  He was about to push one of the books in to line it up with those to either side when Mavro stopped him. She was sudde
nly beside him with her hand on his arm.

  ‘Don’t touch it,’ she said. ‘There could be prints. Are you absolutely sure these books aren’t how you left them?’

  Tayte nodded. ‘I’m very particular about it, bordering obsessive, like Reese with that cigar case in his office yesterday. I like things in their place; neat and tidy. These books aren’t. I never would have left them like that. Someone’s taken them out and not put them back straight.’

  ‘Could someone else have moved them—someone who’s been here with you at some point? A friend? Or maybe your fiancée?’

  Tayte didn’t need to think about it. He shook his head emphatically. ‘I don’t really have any friends. My fiancée hasn’t been here in a while, and I know I dusted everywhere and generally tidied up before I left for Europe three months ago. These books were all in a neat line.’

  ‘Okay, so someone’s been here, and whoever failed to put your books back right before they left must have gotten in somehow.’ Mavro peered at the two books again. ‘Maybe he wanted to draw our attention to them for some reason.’

  ‘You think he left us a note inside one of them?’

  ‘It’s possible. Or perhaps he was just passing the time while he copied your files. Anyone else have a door key?’ Mavro smiled to herself. ‘Scratch that. Of course they don’t. You’re a loner. I get it. Let’s take another look around. Whoever it was is either good at picking locks or we must have missed something.’

  The windows were the obvious answer, so they inspected them all again. Those at the side were vulnerable on account of the trees outside, which not only obscured the view looking out, but also the view looking towards the house from the street, making it difficult to see anyone who might be trying to gain entry. As before, they saw nothing unusual. It wasn’t until they went into the bathroom that something now stood out as odd.

  It was Mavro who spotted it. ‘Your windows aren’t too clean, are they?’

  ‘I haven’t had a chance to clean them since I got back.’

  ‘Right.’

  Mavro stepped closer to the window. She opened it and leaned out to take a better look at the outside of the glass. ‘I didn’t notice it before. Maybe the light’s changed, but wouldn’t you say that this particular pane looks cleaner than the rest?’ She tapped the pane in question with her fingernail as Tayte stood beside her.

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘I’m saying I think maybe this pane has been replaced.’ Mavro was still scrutinising the glass. ‘Yeah, that’s exactly what I think,’ she added. ‘Although there’s no difference in the paint coloration. The area around this pane is just as white as the rest, but that doesn’t mean much. The whole frame could have been repainted.’

  ‘Three months is plenty of time to replace a broken window and repaint the frame,’ Tayte offered.

  ‘I’m going to call it in,’ Mavro said, taking out her phone.

  They went back to the couch and Tayte listened as Mavro spoke with Reese. When the call ended, she said, ‘He says we’re to sit tight and not disturb anything more than we already have. He’s sending over an Evidence Response Team. They’ll check the place for prints and collect forensic material.’

  ‘And check out those two books?’

  Mavro nodded. ‘It’ll take a while, so Reese suggested we head back to see him as soon as they get here. He’s expecting that envelope back from the lab any minute.’

  ‘Great,’ Tayte said. ‘If there’s another clue in there, I’d really like to get started on it.’

  There was little doubt in Tayte’s mind that the envelope contained a clue to the Genie’s next murder, and he found himself wondering which of his former clients’ families the killer was going to target next. How and where would that person die if he couldn’t work out what was going on in time? He had no idea where this sick game was heading, or what was coming next. All he knew was that he had to stop it.

  Within the hour, Tayte and Mavro were back at Reese’s office. It was just after midday, and the envelope was on the desk waiting for them as they entered the room—as was Reese’s cigar case. He was staring down at it, his brow set in a deep furrow as if he were somehow trying to channel positive energy through it. He looked far more troubled than Tayte had so far seen him.

  ‘It’s going to be a while before the lab techs are fully finished with everything,’ Reese said, ‘but it’s been confirmed that it was Kelly Uttridge’s body inside the trunk of your car, Mr Tayte.’

  Tayte had already convinced himself that it had to be her, but this cold confirmation left him feeling numb all over again. As with the rest of the victims, Kelly had died simply because she was related to someone who had previously employed Tayte’s services, and he was having trouble coming to terms with that. He took a deep breath as he sat down with his briefcase.

  ‘This has to end,’ he said, his dark eyes fixed on Reese’s, his hands making fists beneath the desk as numbness turned to raw anger.

  Reese gave a solemn nod. ‘Maybe we can do that this time. We didn’t have a chance with Kelly Uttridge. She wasn’t the Genie’s fifth victim. She was his first.’

  Tayte’s eyes sank to the envelope on the desk between them and settled on his own name, scrawled on the front in black ink. ‘The killer knew I’d be involved at this point,’ he said. ‘He’s very calculating.’

  ‘Yes, he is. Either that, or he’d written your name on this envelope so we’d get you involved if you weren’t already by now. Either way, it confirms he wants you to partake in his game. I’m going to have you relocated to a safe house, especially since you believe someone’s been inside your apartment while you were away. You can work on stopping this from there.’

  ‘What about my files? I’m going to need them.’

  ‘I’ll have everything moved once forensics are finished. You’ll have all you need.’

  Tayte sighed and nodded, thinking it was probably a good idea under the circumstances.

  ‘The clock starts again, Mr Tayte,’ Reese said. ‘And we can be damn sure our killer already knows who his next victim is going to be. Maybe he or she has already been abducted. The MPD is trying to find out whether any of the families of those reported missing recently have had any dealings with you in the past. That’s going to take time, though, and it could prove fruitless.’ Reese slid the envelope closer to Tayte. ‘Our best hope is inside this envelope. Take a look. See what you can make of it.’

  Tayte picked up the envelope. It was a plain white letter envelope with no distinguishing features. He found himself holding his breath as he opened it, expecting to find another piece of genealogical wheel chart—but not this time. Inside the envelope was a small piece of paper, not much bigger than a business card, and Tayte was momentarily bewildered by what he saw written on it. He hadn’t really known what to expect, but seeing his name on the envelope had made him think there would be some kind of personal message. Maybe something from the past that only he would understand, but that wasn’t the case. He read it out.

  ‘Ream EBH 4/30/2.’

  ‘I was hoping it would mean something to you,’ Reese said with disappointment, clearly having noticed the lost expression on Tayte’s face.

  ‘The last part could be a date of birth or death,’ Tayte offered. ‘Or it could be something else. It might make better sense once we know what the first part means.’ He took his notebook out from his inside jacket pocket and wrote everything down. ‘Whatever this refers to, it appears the Genie just changed the nature of the game. I suspect he’s made it relatively easy up until now just to get me involved, and he wanted us to know the rules. Find the ancestor, find the victim.’ He looked at the obscure clue again, and now that he was on board he had the feeling that this deadly game had begun in earnest.

  ‘Whatever it refers to,’ Mavro said. ‘It’s gotta be something to do with family history, right?’

  Tayte put his notebook away, nodding. ‘If I’ve understood the rules well enough, this clue should point
to someone in one of my clients’ files, just as before. Up until now, the killer’s made it obvious who that was—the name in the centre of the genealogical wheel charts he was leaving at the scene, whose death he intends to replicate. Now we’ve got to work that part out, too. I’d like to get started on it right away.’

  ‘Of course,’ Reese said. ‘You and Ms Mavro can work here while we relocate your files.’

  ‘I could use some air, if that’s okay,’ Tayte said. ‘And some lunch. I don’t think so well on an empty stomach.’

  ‘Whatever works best for you, but stay in contact. I’ve got other people trying to crack this. If they get a breakthrough I’ll let you know, and I want you to do the same. Once everything’s set, I’ll have someone drop you at the safe house. You can collect whatever personal items you need from your apartment along the way.’ He paused and drew a sharp breath. ‘I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that time is critical here. We don’t know how long we have.’

  Tayte and Mavro both gave a sombre nod. As they left Reese’s office, heading for the stairs, Tayte wondered just how long it would be before another body was found. Twenty-four hours? Forty-eight? The Genie surely knew Tayte was involved by now, and Tayte didn’t imagine the killer would give him very long.

  Who’s doing this? he thought again, wondering what the Genie was doing right now. Had he already gone to work on his latest victim? What terrible fate did he have planned for him or her this time?

  The man with the scarred eyebrow was troubled.

  ‘Decisions, decisions,’ he said to himself. He just couldn’t choose.

  He was sitting in a blue Ford Econoline camper van, which he’d stolen that morning. It was parked between several other vehicles beneath the shade of a tree whose red and gold leaves threw him into shadow. He offered his binoculars up to his eyes again and continued to look at option number one through one of the windows of the house he was watching.

  Pretty little black girl, he thought. She was four years old, hair bunched up in a ponytail. Don’t you have the cutest smile . . .