The crime scene unit arrived shortly after the second black and white. They left their vehicle on the road and walked the hundred yards or so to the crime scene. The three member of the CSU each knew exactly what they needed to do and had gathered any evidence within half an hour of the time that Andy had the entire body uncovered. The photographer took several more shots and then stepped back, awaiting further instructions.
The two ambulance attendants lifted the body of a young woman onto the stretcher and waited for Andy’s final instructions before zipping up the body bag.
Andy made a preliminary examination of the body. The woman was dressed in a two-piece bathing suit. He turned to the lead CSU and said, “Looks to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Overall she’s in good physical condition, except for the obvious.” He gestured toward the gash in her rib cage. “Probably done with a large hunting knife with a serrated edge. I’ll know more after the autopsy.” He nodded to his attendants, who zipped up the body bag and carried the gurney over the sand to the waiting ambulance.
At this point Lieutenant Dean Hollister arrived. The officers on the scene straightened visibly and saluted. Dean returned their salutes and held a hand out to stop the ambulance attendants. They set the gurney down, unzipped the bag far enough to let Dean see the wound. He nodded and they zipped her up again and continued toward the ambulance. Dean turned to Jenny Howard, the lead CSU. “How’s it looking here?” he said.
Jenny pointed to one of the other CSU team members, who was running a metal detector over the surrounding area. “We’re still searching in the sand, just in case there may be more than one victim,” she said. “There was no trace of excess blood in or around the hole. From the looks of things, the victim was killed somewhere else and then dumped here. A single stab wound between her ribs was the cause of death.”
The CSU team member with the metal detector stopped and scanned one spot in the sand. His detector beeped and he bent over with a scoop and dug a shallow furrow in the sand. He sifted the sand and found a nickel. He looked back at Jenny and shook his head before he continued to scan other areas.
A few minutes later his detector started beeping again, this time louder and more insistent than before. He laid the metal detector down and dropped to his knees with the sand scoop. After just five or six scoops of sand, he stopped, dropped the scoop and started removing sand with his hand. A moment later he looked up from the hole. “Lieutenant,” he yelled. “Over here. I found something.”
Dean and Jenny hurried over to where the CSU knelt in the sand. They looked down into the shallow hole and saw a young man’s face, its mouth agape and full of sand. The third CSU member joined them and together they removed enough sand to expose the entire body. The young man was wearing only a pair of swim trunks.
Dean looked at the man’s face and then over at the CSU who’d found this victim. “What made the metal detector go off like that?” he said, gesturing toward the victim. “He doesn’t even have any pockets, so where the metal that set your machine off?”
The CSU, a man named Bruce Collier, brushed some more sand away from the face and then dug with his fingers in the open mouth, removing as much sand as he could. He pointed to the victim’s upper set of teeth. “Lots of fillings,” he said. “Lucky for us he had them or we might not have found him.”
“Lucky for us,” Dean said. “Not so lucky for him.” He pointed down at the victim and then turned to Jenny. “See any marks or wounds on the body?”
Jenny shook her head and then instructed Collier to turn the body over. As soon as he did that, the cause of death was evident. There was a large stab wound in the upper back, just opposite of where the heart would be. “Same as the other one,” Jenny said, “except in the back. My guess is the killer did this one first, surprising him from behind and then doing the girl.”
It was another hour and a half before the second body was removed to the morgue and the area had been completely scoured. Nothing else was found and no other bodies turned up in the sand. Dean returned to the precinct and parked his car in the lot. Before returning to his office, he paid Andy Reynolds a visit in the morgue. Andy had the woman on his autopsy table when Dean approached.
Andy pointed at the wound in the woman’s torso. He hiked a thumb toward the other body that waited on the other table. “Same knife made both wounds,” Andy said. “No doubt about it.”
Dean turned to Andy. “Would you check these wounds against the couple that we found in the grave down in the ravine last week? This looks like a similar M.O.”
“Sure thing, Lieutenant,” Andy said before returning his attentions to the woman on the slab.
Dean returned to his office and caught his breath for a moment before dialing Elliott Cooper’s cell phone.
Elliott answered on the third ring. “Cooper here,” he said, a little out of breath.
“Elliott,” Dean said. “It’s Dean. You make any progress yet?”
“Gloria and I are just a few blocks away from the first person on our list of people to see,” Elliott said. “I’ll have more to tell you within the hour. Can I call you back?”
“Sure,” Dean said. “Oh, and one more thing, Elliott. We just uncovered two more bodies in the sand at the Venice Beach Park. The M.E. is checking the stab wounds against the couple from the ravine. We may have a serial killer on our hands, so you be careful.”
“Will do,” Elliott said. “And thanks for the heads up.” He flipped the phone shut and turned to Gloria. “Dean says we may be dealing with a serial killer. He’s checking to see if a couple they just dug up on the beach was killed with the same knife as the couple found near the ravine in the mountains.”
“One more block,” Gloria said, pointing out the windshield. “It should be the house on the right, second from the corner. There, that white one with the hedge.”
Elliott pulled up to the curb and killed his engine. “Read me that name again, would you?” he said to Gloria.
Gloria checked the clipboard and said, “Carl Archer. He was Conrad’s brother.”
The two of them left the car and walked up the sidewalk to the front door. Elliott pressed the doorbell and waited. A moment later the door opened and an old man stared back at him. “Carl Archer?” Elliott said.
“I’m Carl Archer,” the man told Elliott. “Can I help you?”
“Mr. Archer,” Elliott said. “My name is Elliott Cooper and this is Gloria Campbell. We’re looking into a couple of murders that happened last week and I was wondering if we might talk to you about your sister-in-law, Kate and your brother, Conrad.”
A frown covered Carl’s face. “Conrad wasn’t murdered,” he said. “His car went off the road and down into that ravine. Everyone just assumed that he was thinking of Kate and just lost control of his car.”
“Do you think we could come in, Mr. Archer?” Elliott said. “It would be a lot easier than discussing this in the doorway.”
“Of course,” Carl said. “Please, make yourselves at home.” He gestured toward the living room.
Elliott and Gloria sat on the sofa while Carl sat in an overstuffed easy chair, a coffee table between them. Gloria broke the ice by looking at the clipboard and then asking Carl what he remembered about the events leading up to his brother’s death three years earlier.
“I remember when Kate first went missing,” Carl said. “Conrad was beside himself with grief and worry. And my god, when they found her all those months later and Conrad had to identify what was left of the body, well, he just came apart. I can understand why he wouldn’t have been in his right mind sometimes, like the day his car went down into that ravine.”
“What about their son?” Elliott said, looking to Gloria for the name.
Gloria looked at the yellow sheet again and then offered, “Clyde. According to our records he would have been about five years old when his mother died.”
“Six actually,” Carl said. “He didn’t fully understand what had happened to his mother at first,
but as he grew up, Conrad eventually explained everything to him.”
“So that would make him, what?” Elliott said. “Somewhere in his late thirties by now?”
“He’ll be forty in March,” Carl offered.
“Does he still live in the area?” Gloria asked.
“He and his family live in Glendale,” Carl said. “Carl works in the foundry right there in Glendale and his wife, Sarah works the counter at the Copper Penny coffee shop over on Colorado Boulevard. Jake, that’s their son, is still in high school. He’s a senior this year.”
“Do you think Jake would mind if we stopped by to talk with him?” Elliott said. “I’m not sure how much he’d be able to tell us, but it’s usually the little details that end up making or breaking a case.”
Carl shook his head. “I don’t think he’d mind,” he said. “If you like I can give you his address and phone number.”
“That would be great,” Elliott said. “Do you know when we could find him home?”
Carl glanced at his watch. “He should be there now,” he said. “Clyde works the graveyard shift, ten at night until six in the morning.” Carl grabbed a pencil and jotted down Clyde’s address and handed Gloria the slip of paper. She clipped it to the clipboard.
Elliott and Gloria stood, shook Carl’s hand and thanked him for his time. The two of them slid back into the car and headed north toward Glendale.
“That must have been hard for the little guy,” Gloria said, referring to Clyde as a child. “I mean, they say that those are the formative years growing up. Some kids never get over the death of a parent.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Elliott said. “According to Carl, his nephew moved on with his life and managed to start a family of his own. Hell, my own mother died way too early and look how I turned out.”
Gloria remained silent and just looked sideways at Elliott, a thin smile on her lips.
“Okay,” Elliott said. “Bad example. Let’s just say I turned out relatively normal and leave it at that.”
“Are you going to call Dean?” Gloria said.
“And tell him what?” Elliott said. “Carl didn’t exactly break the case wide open for us, did he?”
“Just a courtesy,” Gloria said. “You know, to keep him in the loop.” She opened her cell phone and dialed Dean’s cell. He picked up on the third ring.
“Hollister,” Dean said.
“Dean,” Gloria said. “It’s Gloria. Elliott and I just wanted to keep you up on the latest developments and to let you know what we’re doing and where we’re going.”
“Thanks, Gloria,” Dean said. “What did you find out so far?”
“Not much from the first victim’s brother-in-law,” she said. “But he gave us the name and address of the son from way back when. He still lives in the area and Elliott and I are on our way there now.”
“Are you talking about Clyde Archer?” Dean said.
“Yes,” Gloria said. “How’d you know his name?”
“I found it in the original file from ’79 and checked to see if he still lived in the area,” Dean said. “In fact, you caught me in my car. I’m just pulling up in front of his house now.”
“Terrific,” Gloria said. “We should be there in fifteen minutes or so. I guess we’ll see you there.” She closed her phone and turned to Elliott. “Dean’s there now,” she said. “How handy.”
Dean got out of his unmarked cruiser and approached Clyde Archer’s house. All the draped we closed but a car still sat in the driveway. Dean stepped up onto the porch and pressed the doorbell button. He didn’t hear anything from inside the house and knocked on the door frame instead. This time he heard footsteps coming closer.
The front door opened and a man wearing just pajama bottoms and a strapped tee shirt stared back at Dean. The man stood there with three-day stubble on his face, scratching his ass. “Yeah,” he said. “What do you want?”
Dean held up his shield. “Police,” he said. “I’d like to talk to you if that’s all right.”
“Can’t it wait?” the man said. “I work third shift and you got me out of bed.”
“I’m sorry,” Dean said, “But as long as you’re already up, this is pretty important. I’ll only take a few minutes of your time.”
The door opened all the way and the man stood back to let Dean pass. Dean turned around, checked his notepad and said, “Is your name Clyde Archer?”
The man nodded. “Yeah, what of it?” he said.
Dean looked at his notes again and added, “Was Kate Archer your mother? And was Conrad Archer your father?”
Again Clyde nodded.
Dean looked around the room. “Is anyone else at home right now?” he said.
Clyde hesitated and then said, “Nope, it’s just me. Why?”
“It’s just routine,” Dean said. “Is your wife’s name Sarah? And is your son’s name Jake?”
“You sure ask a lot of questions for routine,” Clyde said, annoyed now.
“Mr. Archer,” Dean said. “We’re looking into a couple of murders. Maybe you read about the couple found near the ravine where both of your parents died. An article like that surely would have caught your attention.”
“Yeah,” Clyde said. “I read about it. So what?”
“Mr. Archer,” Dean said. “I would thing you’d be a little more interested in these murders, seeing as how close they happened to where your mother was found all those years ago. And I’m sorry about your father’s accident in that same area, but I have an investigation to conduct. I’d like to put down in my report that you were cooperative.”
Clyde began to walk toward the kitchen and then turned his head back toward Dean. “You want a beer?” he said, and kept walking.
“No thanks,” Dean said. Just then Dean thought he heard other noises coming from somewhere below him. A basement, he thought. He started to approach Clyde.
“Didn’t you tell me you were home alone?” Dean said.
The door off the kitchen that led to the basement opened and a middle-aged woman and a teen-aged boy emerged. They stopped in their tracks when they spotted Dean. Dean shot a glance at Clyde, who had swept a large hunting knife from somewhere on the kitchen counter. Before Dean could get to the .38 under his arm, Clyde was on him with the knife. He swept one arm around Dean’s neck from behind and held the knife to Dean’s back, its point nearly piercing Dean’s flesh.
Sarah snickered. “Another cop?” she said, wiping her red-stained hands on her apron.
Their son, Jake gave a toothy grin and stepped up nose to nose with Dean. “You guys are just way too nosy for your own good,” he said, his breath stinking of gin. Maybe you’d like to join your buddy downstairs. Would you like that, cop?” He turned to his father. “Stick him, daddy,” he said. “It’s your turn. I did the guy on the road and ma did his wife in the woods. It’s your turn. Go on, daddy, stick him.”
Clyde drew back the hand with the knife in it and had just started to plunge it into Dean’s back when the knock came on the front door. It was a loud insistent knock and the noise was just enough to disrupt Clyde’s thrust. He missed his mark and the knife pierced soft flesh in Dean’s side instead of severing vital organs. Dean reacted by instinct and stepped on Clyde’s instep. Clyde howled and lost his grip on Dean’s neck.
Dean was able to grab his .38 and swept it out from under his arm in an instant. He turned and fired twice, catching Clyde in the chest. Clyde went down hard on the kitchen floor. The front door burst open and Elliott rushed in, his .38 extended in front of him. Gloria followed close behind, her own firearm pointing forward as well.
Clyde dropped the hunting knife and it skittered across the kitchen floor. Jake pounced on it and jumped to his feet in a second. He crouched and held the knife like a street punk would in preparation for a knife fight. He lunged at Dean and Dean managed to sidestep the kid. Elliott managed to bring the barrel of his .38 down hard on Jake’s wrist, causing the knife to fly out of Jake’s hand. Jake grabbed his i
njured wrist with the other and swore at Elliott. Elliott gestured toward the floor. “Down on your stomach,” he ordered.
Gloria hurried to the kitchen in time to find Sarah Archer thrusting her hand into an open drawer. Gloria screamed at her. “If you pull anything other than a spatula out of there, I’ll blow your damned head off.” Sarah’s hand came out empty. “On the floor,” Gloria bellowed. “Do it now.”
Clyde Archer lay on the kitchen floor, bleeding out from two bullet wounds to the chest. Dean reached into his coat pocket and tossed his cuffs to Elliott, who snapped then onto Jake’s wrists. Once he had Jake secured, Elliott hurried to Dean and looked at the wound in his side. Dean sat on one of the kitchen chairs, grabbing a towel from the rack over the sink. He pressed the towel to his wound and sighed.
Gloria kept Sarah Archer on the floor and then looked at Elliott. She grabbed the hunting knife that Jake had dropped and handed it to Elliott. “Cut those cables from the blinds and tie this one up.”
Elliott cut off three feet of woven cable from alongside the kitchen blinds and then knelt next to Sarah Archer, securing her hands with several wraps of the cable. He turned to Gloria. “Call 911,” he said. “Get an ambulance here right away.”
Dean gestured toward the basement steps. “Better take a look down there,” he told Elliott. “The way they talked before you got here, they made it sound like they had another cop down there.
“Will you be all right for a couple of minutes?” Elliott said, looking at Dean.
“Sure,” he said. “Go.”
Elliott grabbed his .38 again and slowly descended the basement steps. There was just one large room, illuminated by two sixty watt bulbs. At the far end of the basement Elliott found a workshop and a bench full of tools. Most of them were bloody. From over his shoulder Elliott heard muffled sounds and quickly spun around with his revolver cocked. He eased the hammer back down again and holstered his weapon when he spotted the cop tied to the rafter against the opposite wall.
The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 218