Deadly Obsessions (Kensington-Gerard Detective series Book 3)

by K. T. Roberts

  “Not that I’m aware.”

  Jessie sheepishly ambled back over to where McQueen stood. “I’m sorry Jared,” her face twisted. “I had no right to act so unprofessional like that in front of you.” He nodded his acceptance. She motioned for Zach and McQueen to join her. Despite her face feeling flushed and angered by the sting from Zach’s comment, she let it go to focus on the crime scene. “Look what one of the investigators just found,” she pointed to the spent shells on the ground identified by orange markers. “Now, see where I’m standing? If you let your eyes follow the imaginary line from the two gouges in the brick wall over there by those markers,” she pointed, “our guy stood right here and aimed.” She posed in the shooter’s position. “The projectiles ricocheted off the brick wall and lodged right into the fiberglass dumpster.”

  “Our guy is obviously not a sharpshooter,” Zach said, “because he wouldn’t have missed his target the first couple of times he released fire.”

  “Nah,” Jessie said, “I don’t agree with that. I think our guy was teasing her. This was his foreplay before the kill. She may have been zigzagging to make it more difficult for him to hit his target, and he played along with her little game.”

  “Yeah? You really think so?” Zach questioned.

  “Then how do you explain the bullet between her eyes?” she asked. “A guy who doesn’t have complete control of his firearm wouldn’t be able to hit his target dead center like he did.” She shrugged. “I think he’s either military—maybe even a sharpshooter, could be law enforcement, or a ballistics expert? He’s obviously someone who has the skills.”

  “Hell, target practice could do that,” Zach said clenching his jaw.

  “Possibly. Maybe she thought she could call his bluff and ran toward him instead of away?”

  “But why would she do that?”

  Jessie shrugged. “Maybe she knew him, or maybe she begged him not to kill her. That may be the question of the century and one we’ll probably never know the answer to. But if she did, he planned this killing.”

  “Maybe she caught him in the act of doing something wrong, and he was making sure there were no witnesses,” Zach offered.

  “Instead of speculating, I guess we should wait for the CIs to finish their investigation.” Jessie turned to watch the medical examiner pull the blanket back. “Hey,” Jessie said, “where’s her coat?”

  “Seriously!” McQueen echoed. “Where is her coat?” Perplexed, he called out to his investigators. “Anyone find a coat anywhere in this crime scene?” No one seemed to know anything. He shook his head. “Let me see what I can find out, Zach,” he said heading over to his team.

  “Zach,” Jessie said when McQueen was a safe distance away, “you’ve got to stop sniping at me when we’re on the job.”

  His head jerked back as his brows creased his forehead. “I’m not sniping at you.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re acting like a wounded puppy whenever you have an audience.”

  “Well, maybe,” he stopped talking when McQueen returned.

  McQueen’s shrugged. “No one has seen anything, but they will keep an eye out for it. Do you think the killer took it as a souvenir?” he asked.

  “It could have been a female vagrant who took it to keep warm,” Jessie offered. “But the killer keeping it as a souvenir? How friggin’ creepy is that?”

  “It is creepy, but he’s making a statement here. He wants us to know that he gets the same high when he rubs his hands over the fabric and smells it. Kinky, huh?”

  Jessie shuddered and turned to McQueen. “Okay, what can you tell us about these witnesses?” A sudden thought occurred to her and she stopped talking and held her hand up like a stop sign. “Wait. I’ll be,” she said tipping her head to the side and looking at Zach. “Isn’t this the same MO the Red Reaper used? Shot between the eyes, the missing coat, and something else,” she frowned trying to remember,” and turned to Zach. “Do you remember those cases?” she asked her partner.

  Zach nodded. “Absolutely! I was just thinking the same thing. He used to write his initials in blood on something close by.”

  “That’s right. So what do you think? Copycat or the Red Reaper has come out of hiding and picked up where he left off?”

  “We haven’t found his initials anywhere yet.” Zach scanned the area with his eyes. “I think we wait to see if there’s another homicide before we make that determination.”

  “Do you remember which precinct handled that case?” she asked.

  His lips puckered in thought. “I’m not sure, but I think it might have been our current precinct. I think it’s been about five years since anyone has heard from the guy though. Do you know about him, McQueen?”

  “I remember the city in a major uproar because the NYPD hadn’t found him, and then it stopped as abruptly as it started. It was the next year that I enrolled into the Police Academy.”

  “Was that because you thought you could do a better job of finding him?” Zach teased, a noticeable difference in his attitude.

  “No,” he laughed. “I just wanted to help.”

  “Well, you’d probably better refresh your memory about him because if he’s the person who killed our victim, there’s sure to be a slew more. I believe our last count was twenty-five victims. The Reaper typically goes after red-headed women. I don’t know of any men that he’s killed. I don’t suppose their coats would give him much pleasure.”

  “Not unless he’s bi-sexual and into that sort of thing.” Jessie quipped. “As far as anyone was able to tell, they were random killings, and everyone in the two-one was scratching their heads trying to figure out how the hell he slipped through their fingers.”

  Zach’s hands rose in the air. “Oh, the mysteries of this job.” He cocked his head to the side. “Okay, go ahead, tell us about the witnesses.”

  “The guy there,” he pointed toward the building where they stood waiting, “like I said, he works nights and was on his way to the subway. The woman was meeting some friends for drinks and walking with him. Both were heading for the train. That’s when they said they heard the shots fired in the distance and called 911 to report it.”

  “Okay, so what about the businesses in the alley? Didn’t they hear shots fired?” Jessie asked.

  “I had my guys canvas the immediate area, and the common theme seems to be too busy to notice.” His hand rose in the air with displeasure. “The list of excuses goes on and on.”

  “And the other stores?”

  “They were open but no one was in the backrooms. It’s the old story. No one knows a thing. At least, they’re not admitting to it.”

  “What about these surveillance cameras?” Jessie pointed. “Can you have your investigators check to see if they still record? And if so, get the footage. We should also find out what time these lights are scheduled to go on, because frankly, unless these surveillance cameras are the kind that record nighttime activity, we may not be able to see anything even if there is footage.”

  “But we may get the audio. At least, we can hope.” Zach turned to McQueen. “And you got the witnesses’ names and addresses as well?”

  “I did.” He pointed to them standing several feet away. “The female is Lavina Simmons. She’s the one leaning against the 81 building. The guy in the ski cap,” he pointed, “is Manny Espinoza, and he’s over there by Officer Primo.”

  “Are they a couple?”

  “Who? Primo and Espinoza?” His eyes crinkled at the sides when Zach laughed.

  “I meant witnesses, you bozo.”

  “I know. I was just kidding. I don’t think so. They certainly don’t act like they’re more than just neighbors. They do seem to know one another pretty well though.”

  “Okay. Listen, can you and your guys make sure they keep an eye on them so we can finish here?”

  “Not a problem.”

  Cameras flashed in succession in the background as an investigator took photos of the victim’s body from every angle. A few sec
onds later, two technicians lifted the corpse into a body bag, zipped it, carried it to a gurney and rolled it toward the EMS vehicle. A short distance away, one of the two uniformed men manning the traffic blew his whistle, trying to get the gridlock moving to free up the ‘rubber neckers’ now clogging the flow of the main thoroughfare.

  “How are you doing, hotshot?” Jessie asked, trying to act normal.

  “Good,” Zach answered coolly. “I’ve never been better. I like not having to answer to anyone.”

  “Liar.”

  “See, now there you go deluding yourself again.” His brows rose. “Let’s focus on the job.”

  “Fine. I was just trying to make friendly conversation.” The words shot out of her mouth with indignation. “Sorry I asked.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Zach walked toward the medical examiner leaving Jessie behind.

  The rapid pounding of feet behind caused Jessie to turn around quickly. A slightly disheveled, scruffy older man with graying hair stood behind her. His feet still clad in slippers and only a sweater to keep him warm. “Who’s being carted away in that body bag?” he asked out of breath.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The victim,” he pointed to the technician pushing the gurney inside the vehicle. “Who’s in that body bag?”

  “And you are?”

  “Harlan Hawkins. My neighbors stopped by to tell me they think my wife was shot.” People moved closer, obviously hoping to hear more information. His eyes scanned the crowd looking for her. “Is she in that EMS vehicle?”

  “Give me a minute,” Jessie shoved her two fingers into her mouth like a tomboy and whistled for Zach. The piercing sound bounced off the walls in the alleyway and caught everyone’s attention. Jessie gestured for him to join her. “This man behind me says he’s the victim’s husband,” she whispered. “He said his name is Harlan Hawkins, and he claims his neighbors informed him about his wife.”

  “Okay. Let’s question him.” Zach lifted the yellow crime tape and ducked down under so that he and Jessie could talk to the man a safe distance from the actual scene.

  “We’re Detectives Kensington and Gerard.”

  “Please tell me if that’s my wife.” He swallowed hard. “I’m worried sick.”

  “Can I have your name again?” she asked.

  “Harlan Hawkins.” He watched the two technicians very closely. “That’s a body bag. Please, just tell me. Is she in it?”

  Jessie ignored his question. “When was the last time you saw your wife?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” He glanced around as if looking for a clock. Gerard held out his wrist for him to see. “I guess about ninety minutes ago. I fell asleep after dinner and didn’t wake up until someone was banging my door down. I guess she decided to go for a walk after I crapped out. Please tell me if that’s her?”

  “What is your wife’s name, please?”

  “Carly…Carly Hawkins.”

  “Does she always walk at this time of the night?”

  “I don’t know. I always fall asleep after dinner, so maybe. But I’m surprised she never told me. I do know that she runs every morning at the same time.” He watched the EMTs run the straps through the carriage of the gurney and lock it into place to prevent it from moving during transit. “Now tell me, dammit,” he demanded, “is the person in that body bag, Carly?”

  Zach responded. “From what people are telling us, we believe it to be your wife.” Hawkins covered his eyes with his hands and began to hyperventilate. Zach put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath, sir. You’ll be no help to us if you pass out.”

  Hawkins nodded in agreement and squatted down to sit on the curb, taking in deep gulps of air, he tried to calm himself. Zach continued. “The woman had no identification on her. Fortunately, the owner of the luncheonette across the street recognized her as the woman who comes in for breakfast every morning after her jog.” Zach pointed with his pen. “He gave us her name from his credit card receipts.”

  Mr. Hawkins jerked his head back. “She does?”

  “You didn’t know that?”

  “No, I didn’t.” It was obvious he was trying to hold it together. He looked in the direction of the gurney and the EMTs to see what they were doing. “Are you sure she’s dead?”

  “I’m afraid so, sir,” Zach confirmed.

  His fists tightened. “I’ll bet those Arco sons-a-bitches killed her.”

  “Arco? You mean the company?”

  “Damn right I do. If they did, I’ll wipe the ground with them. They’re fooling with the wrong guy here.”

  “Take it easy, Mr. Hawkins. I know how difficult this is for you, but let’s not get hasty here. Tell me more about Arco and why you think they killed your wife. Did she work there?”

  “No. It’s where I worked. They fired me.” His mouth twisted into a sneer. He stopped talking and watched the medical transport vehicle pull away. “Where are they taking her?”

  “To the coroner’s office.”

  “I want to see her.”

  “Mr. Hawkins,” Jessie said, “I’m sorry, but if this is in fact your wife, you will be able to see her after the autopsy. It’s important for us to have the bullet removed so that we can determine what caliber of gun was used.” She stopped talking when she saw the expression on his face.

  “You mean after she’s been all cut up?”

  “I promise you, Mr. Hawkins she’ll look exactly the same as she does now. We’d like to ask you some questions.”

  “Does it have to be right now? Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” He asked stunned by the request.

  “I wish it could wait, but we to need talk now while everything is still fresh in your memory.”

  “But I wasn’t here when it happened.”

  “We need to ask many questions, and the sooner we have those answered, the sooner we can find the person who did this to her.”

  He blew out a ragged breath. “Okay,” he nodded his head in agreement. “That’s what she would have wanted too. She’s a paralegal, you know.” His head lowered, “I mean, she was.” His brown eyes glistened from the tears gathering in the corners, and then, as if on cue, his mood seemed to change as he continued. “She was always researching to find out what she could about the bad guy.” He looked skyward, “I’m doing this for you, baby.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hawkins.”

  “I need to see my wife first though,” he persisted.

  “We’ll have photographs for you to confirm her identity,” Jessie said.

  “No. I want to see her body in person.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Hawkins, but not for 24 to 48 hours.” Jessie called out to one of the uniforms. “Can you please transport Mr. Hawkins to the precinct?” The uniform nodded and guided him to the vehicle.

  “I’m heading over to the female’s apartment to question her,” Jessie said, “You take the Espinoza guy. He’s in apartment 2113 in this building,” she pointed.

  “Okay. Do you have your list of topics ready?”

  “Yeah,” she said holding up her cell phone. “They’re in here.”

  He glanced at his list before entering. When he tapped on the door, he could hear the mumbling of voices, but he was unable to understand what was said. Manny Espinoza opened the door a few seconds later. A tabby cat ran out from under the sofa and over to Zach, rubbing up against his legs. Zach smiled as the cat purred.

  “Mr. Espinoza, I’m Detective Gerard. I need to ask you a few questions about the murder tonight.”

  Espinoza gave him a two-finger salute and opened the door the rest of the way. Dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt, exposing his tattooed covered arms and baggy jeans, he moved aside to allow Zach to enter. The apartment had a warm delicious aroma of Mexican food that made his stomach growl. For the most part, the apartment was clean, but the coffee table was littered with dirty dishes as though someone was in a hurry to leave. Espinoza was a short, stocky guy, with gold chains hanging around his neck. A thicker chain hung from hi
s jean pocket. His head was shaved on both sides with only the top hair remaining. From what Zach could see, he had tattoos all over his body. “Thank you for helping me tonight,” Zach said.

  He gave him a grudging nod. “Did I have a choice?”

  “Actually, no, you didn’t, but you didn’t make it difficult for me either, and I appreciate that.” Espinoza gestured for Zach to take the seat across from him. Zach took a fast scan of the room looking for something he could use as common interest with the man, when he spotted a photograph of a yellow car on the wall. He walked over to the picture. Recognizing the car, he smiled, “is that the same kind of car Don Johnson drove in the Nash Bridges series?” Zach leaned down and picked up the cat.

  The witness nodded. “Yeah, pretty neat, huh? My brother-in-law works at a restoration garage and they’re selling that car. Why? Are you in the market to buy one?”

  “I wish. I saw Nash Bridge’s car sell at auction a couple of years ago. When they drove it on the stage, man, I want to tell you, it purred just like this little kitty,” Zach scratched the cat’s head.

  “Yeah,” Espinoza agreed, “I’ve always loved that ’71 Hemi-Cuda. At this point, I can only dream about it. Someday, maybe.”

  “Me too. Okay, I gotta put my dreams on hold so I can ask you a few questions.” Zach pulled out a tablet to take notes. “Let’s get started. Can you tell me how you knew the victim?”

  “Well, I didn’t really know the woman. I’ve seen her walk or jog by on several occasions while I was sitting on my steps in front of the apartment. She always waved…seemed like a nice lady.”

  “Have you ever seen her with anyone or talking to anyone?”

  He thought for a moment before responding. “Actually, I don’t believe I have.”

  “Did she ever stop to converse with you?”

  “No. We never spoke.”

  “Where were you going tonight?”

  “I work nights for the transit authority.”

  “Ah, so you’ve been my ride around the city, huh?”

  “Yes sir,” he grinned with pride. “For ten years.”