“That must’ve been terrifying for you. You always find words – whether they’re good or bad.”
“I temporarily wondered if the French bug virus was rearing its ugly head.” I was going for levity, but the joke fell flat. Eliot didn’t seem to mind. He slipped an arm around my shoulders and offered me a bit of his strength as I regrouped. “This is now a pattern. You know that, right?”
Eliot pursed his lips as he shifted his eyes to me. “What do you mean?”
“We have two dead women, both black and young.”
“You can’t tie the Port Hope case to this one,” Eliot said. “The distance is too great.”
“I can tie that case to this one,” I countered. “We have one common factor.”
“Which is?”
I inclined my head toward the carnival, which was about a block from the alley. The workers toiled to put the finishing touches on their setup, seemingly oblivious to the crime scene, but I didn’t miss the occasional curious stares from the workers.
“The carnival.” Eliot’s voice was low as he followed my gaze. I thought he might put up an argument, come up with an irrational reason for why I was reaching. Instead he merely sucked in a breath. “Crap!”
“You see it, too?”
“I see there are definitely similarities between this case and the one in Port Hope,” Eliot clarified, squeezing my shoulder. “That doesn’t mean they’re connected. Mount Clemens has problems with violence. This could be a coincidence.”
I couldn’t decide if he was trying to convince himself or me. “Mount Clemens has a lot of gun and knife violence,” I corrected. “There are a decent amount of robberies and drive-by shootings. You also have the occasional pimp going postal on a professional girl.”
Eliot quirked an eyebrow. “Professional girl?”
“I’m trying not to be judgmental or use words that can be misconstrued as slut shaming.”
“Since when?”
“I saw a show on Dateline.”
“Ah, well … wait a second. You called the woman at the lake who kept staring at me a slut. That was four days ago. When did you have this epiphany?”
“Several weeks ago.”
“So … what? It comes and it goes?” Eliot looked amused despite the serious nature of the situation. I realized he needed to embrace a bit of levity or the two deaths would eat at him.
“No, the woman at the lake was a slut,” I explained. “She wanted to see what you had under your swimming trunks. I know what you had under the trunks – nothing – so she’s a slut for lusting after my man.”
“I see.”
“Professional girls are merely trying to survive,” I added, ignoring the bemused expression on his face. “What? I’m not a hypocrite.”
“Your mind is a wonder sometimes.” Eliot tugged me closer and kissed my cheek. “You still don’t know these two cases are connected. This could be something else entirely.”
In my head I knew he was right. My heart was a different story. “The girl in Port Hope had a broken neck. This one was strangled. A broken neck could be the result of an overzealous strangling.”
“It could,” Eliot hedged, shifting from one foot to the other. “Trouble, I need you to be careful. I’m not going to stop you from pursuing this, but people who travel with carnivals aren’t exactly known for being … um … what’s the word I’m looking for?”
“Hygienic?”
Eliot’s expression darkened. “I was going to say moral,” he said after a beat. “I’m not saying they’re all bad. I try to refrain from judging people without a reason – just like you – but I want you to be careful when you start questioning carnies. Can you promise me that?”
“I can promise you to be careful.” I meant it. “As for the judging thing, I only maintain a nonjudgmental demeanor when dealing with people I like. For example, I don’t want to judge working girls because most of them are desperate and trying to survive. I totally want to judge other people, though.”
“Like who?”
“Book banners.”
“Good choice.”
“Trophy hunters.”
“Another good choice.”
“Did I ever tell you my theory on trophy hunters?” For some reason I found it comforting to dive into mundane conversation before leaving Eliot to pursue information on a murder victim. I wasn’t sure when it happened, but I’d come to rely on him for emotional balance. It was an interesting realization.
“I don’t believe you’ve told me that theory.”
“They have small penises,” I volunteered. “That’s the only explanation for killing a majestic animal that you don’t eat. You have a small penis, and you can’t overcompensate with a woman because she’ll laugh. The animals don’t laugh, so you overcompensate by shooting them.”
“Ah, well, I agree with the sentiment.” Eliot grinned as he pulled me in for a hug. “Be careful when you’re questioning people. I know you’re trying to distract me, but it won’t work.”
“I’m always careful.”
“You’re the opposite of careful,” Eliot argued. “You’re going to learn to be careful for my mental health, though. I’m positive you can do it if you put a little effort into it.”
“I’m always careful,” I repeated, for lack of anything better to say.
“I’m thinking of instituting a system of rewards to get you to be more careful,” Eliot said. “You know, a cookie for when you text to tell me where you are. A brownie for when you text a second time to tell me you’re still safe and moving to another source. An entire cake for when you allow me to go with you to question people.”
That was mildly intriguing. “What kind of cake?”
“Red velvet.”
“I’ll consider it.”
Eliot grinned as he pressed a quick kiss to my mouth. “I will be at the store all day. If you want me to go with you to question the carnies, I’m more than willing. It might be a fun bonding exercise.”
“You know I’m capable of doing my job, right?”
“I do.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’d better be.” Eliot moved to leave, squeezing my hand before stepping off the sidewalk to cross the street and return to his shop. That’s when my attention fell on two figures moving in Jake’s direction, my eyes gleaming when I realized what was about to happen.
“Speaking of small penises,” I muttered, brushing past Eliot and hurrying to intercept Jake before the two men could. There was no way I was going to miss this.
“What are you talking about?” Eliot asked, following my gaze. “I … oh, I should’ve seen this coming.”
“You don’t have to come with me,” I called over my shoulder. “I’m sure Jake will protect me if Tad gets out of hand.”
“I think I want to have a little talk with Ludington on my own,” Eliot replied, increasing his pace. “I seriously can’t stand that guy. He has a mental defect or something.”
“It’s Little Man Syndrome,” I offered. “It’s the same thing as the trophy hunters. We don’t have big game animals here, so Tad overcompensates in other ways.”
“What about the other guy?”
I narrowed my eyes as I focused on Richard Aiken. He was a friend of Jake’s – well, he was at least a solid acquaintance – but I hadn’t spent enough time with him to form an opinion. The only thing I could say with any clarity was that he went by the name “Dick” (always a bad sign) and I could turn his name into a prank phone gag game.
“I haven’t decided yet. I’m operating under the assumption that anyone is better than Tad.”
“That’s generally a good assumption.” Eliot grabbed my hand and led me close to Jake so I could watch the show.
Jake focused on the medical examiner for a long time before shifting his gaze to the growing group of onlookers. He briefly locked gazes with Eliot, glanced at me, and then focused on Tad and Aiken. He looked resigned when he saw them.
“Do you guys need somet
hing?” Jake asked, rubbing his hands over his uniform trousers before stepping closer. “I’m a little busy.”
“I heard,” Aiken said, his tone grave. “Is it true that a body was discovered in the alley?”
“It’s true.”
“How did it happen?”
“We’re still trying to ascertain that,” Jake replied. He seemed edgy. I couldn’t blame him. Whenever I spend too much time around Tad I’m convinced I’m going to come down with a dire case of stupid just because I’m in close proximity to him. “Investigations take time. So far we’ve identified the victim and talked to the people at her place of business. We have to notify her family and examine the evidence collected in the alley before moving forward.”
“Yes, but how do you plan to keep the public safe?” Aiken challenged. “We have a serial killer on the loose. Surely the fine people of Macomb County must be made aware of the issue.”
Jake’s expression was incredulous. “Serial killer?”
“Who else would dump a body in the trash that way?”
Either Aiken was secretly a tinfoil hat wearer in his spare time or he had something else up his sleeve. I wasn’t ruling out a serial killer because of the Port Hope victim. But nobody else had put that together yet. I was counting on that fact to help me scoop the crap out of the rest of the southeast Michigan media when Wednesday’s edition hit the racks. Jake had only one victim, though. One victim did not make a serial killer.
“You might be surprised how many bodies we’ve found in the trash,” Jake replied. “It’s a common dumping ground because people assume they’ll get away with murder if the body makes it to a landfill.”
“I … well … that’s neither here nor there.” Aiken shifted wrung his hands. “The public is clearly at risk. We have to warn them.”
I spoke before I thought better of it. “I thought you were a lawyer.”
Aiken glanced at me, seemingly surprised that he had an audience. “I am.”
“Most lawyers would know how bodies are dumped, and they wouldn’t throw around the term ‘serial killer’ without some basis to back it up,” I pointed out.
“I’m a contract lawyer.”
“Oh, well … .” That meant he was even more boring than I initially envisioned. It seemed the most interesting thing about him was his mockable name. How sad is that?
“What are you doing here, Ms. Shaw?” Aiken asked. “This is a crime scene.”
“And the crime tape is over there.” I pointed for emphasis. “This is a public area. I can go wherever I want. I can talk to whomever I want.”
“She can be as evil as she wants,” Tad muttered, petulant.
“Speaking of that, I think you and I need to have a talk,” Eliot interjected, causing Tad’s shoulders to stiffen. “I understand you threatened my girlfriend this afternoon.”
Tad balked. He didn’t fear Jake because, as the sheriff, Jake had to follow rules. Eliot was a big wall of muscle, though, and he had something of a reputation as a brawler. Tad’s idea of fighting involved letting me kick him in the nuts, so he looked unnaturally pale when he locked gazes with Eliot. “Um … .”
“I still don’t understand why you’re here,” Aiken said, his eyes never leaving my face. “How did you know to come?”
“I’m magic.” It probably wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but I was in no mood to play nice with Dick Aiken or his attitude. “I have a sixth sense when it comes to sniffing out a story. I can smell trouble.”
“Smell would be one of the original five senses,” Jake pointed out. “As for the rest … I was having lunch with Avery and Eliot at the Coney restaurant. Avery noticed the body when we exited.”
“How do you know she didn’t put the body there?” Aiken challenged.
“Because she has no motive and, as strong as her personality is, you need upper body strength to hoist a body into a Dumpster,” Jake replied, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He seemed annoyed that Aiken dared challenge my innocence. “The coroner puts the time of death between two and three. Avery has an alibi for that time.”
“You asked her?”
“I did,” Jake lied. In truth, he didn’t have to ask me. He knew Eliot and I were in bed. He seemed to take Aiken’s interest in me as a personal attack, though, and it was interesting to witness given the fact that I assumed they were tight. “She was with Mr. Kane all night. They were up early because they closed on a house.”
“Well I guess that’s okay.” Aiken tugged on his shirt to smooth it. “I don’t want you to think I’m infringing on your job, Jake. We’ve been friends for a long time. My running for county commissioner is a separate issue, though. I have to do the right thing for my constituents.”
Now it was my turn to be offended. “Do you think Jake is trying to do the wrong thing? He’s elected, too. He has more constituents than you do. In fact, you don’t have any constituents because you haven’t won the primary, let alone the general election.”
“Avery,” Jake warned, shaking his head. “Don’t get involved in this.”
“Yes, don’t get involved in this.” Eliot squeezed my hand. “That’s my job.” He focused on Aiken. “Jake is a great sheriff. He doesn’t go around giving lip service to everyone to win a seat. He’s already won the public’s confidence.”
Aiken’s cheeks flushed with color. “If you believe that’s what I’m doing … .”
Eliot cut him off. “I don’t care what you’re doing. You’re not in my voting district. I do care that you’re trying to make Jake’s job harder.”
“Since when did you start standing up for the sheriff?” Tad sneered. “Is it because you share an interest in the same woman? Oh, do you guys have a schedule of who gets her when? I’ll bet you do, because no one could put up with that mouth full time.”
Now it was my turn to be offended. “I will kick you again,” I snapped, taking a bold step forward.
Eliot snagged me around the waist before I could attack Tad in front of an audience that Jake couldn’t control. “Don’t,” he whispered, gripping me close. “You’ll make things worse.”
I wasn’t sure that was possible.
“Ms. Shaw, I believe you have work to do.” Jake’s voice was officious, but he offered me a small wink when Tad and Aiken turned their backs to him. “I will send out notification of a news conference in a few hours. Until then … .”
He left the rest of the sentence hanging. I could finish it myself. Until then I was on my own to gather information. I knew exactly where I was going to start.
13
Thirteen
I left Eliot to intimidate Tad – he stood against the front window of his pawnshop, arms crossed over his chest, and openly glared – and headed toward the festival area. I was the only reporter who knew about the Port Hope connection. My lead in the story race wouldn’t last long, but I had every intention of milking it.
I was barely around the barricades when a woman approached. She was tall – ridiculously so – and wore bright purple pants and a matching bandana on her head. She didn’t look happy when she saw me cross the invisible line that separated the carnival from the rest of the street.
“Can I help you?”
Her voice was unnaturally low and menacing. I plastered a bright smile on my face and held up my notebook as proof I was harmless. “I’m with The Monitor. That’s the county’s daily newspaper. I’m covering the festival.”
The woman slowed her pace, knitting her eyebrows. “I don’t understand. You’re here to do a story?” I’d clearly caught her off guard, which I had every intention of using to my advantage.
I bobbed my head. “We’re the media sponsor for the entire festival and I’m supposed to write a series of stories from a variety of different angles – all fluff pieces – and I thought I’d tackle the carnival portion next.”
“I … um … okay.” The woman looked confused. “I assumed you were here for another reason. I’m sorry.”
I had no idea what tha
t reason was, but I was too smart to press the issue. She was suspicious by nature – which I applaud, because I’m that way, too – so there was no way I could use her as a source until she trusted me. Immediately asking questions about potential murderers in her midst was a surefire way to breed a toxic environment.
“I’m Avery Shaw.” I extended my hand. The woman eyed it for a moment before shaking it. “I don’t know a lot about carnivals, so I need someone to explain everything to me as if I’m an idiot.” I twirled a strand of my blond hair around my finger for emphasis. “The only thing I know about carnivals I’ve learned from Modern Family.”
“I’m Stella.” The woman stared hard. “Modern Family has a guy who dresses as a clown. It’s not the same thing as a carnival. I mean … we have clowns, but we’re not all about clowns or anything.”
“Oh, well, I’m learning something new already. Thank you for clarifying, Stella.” Frankly, I find clowns terrifying. I find carnies terrifying, too. Yes, that’s a generalization, but … I don’t really care. Carnies are weird. There’s no getting around it. “What can you tell me about your operation?”
“Oh, well, I don’t really think you should talk to me.” Stella adjusted her bandana... “I’m not in charge or anything. I’m just a worker.”
And that’s why she interested me. “You don’t have to worry about talking on the record. This is off the record,” I stressed. “I’m simply looking for some information to bolster my knowledge. For example … um … how far do you guys travel in a year? It’s not really for the story, mind you. It’s just so I understand your fascinating lifestyle.”
“Well, we’re with the Dobson & Turner carnival group,” Stella explained, offering a genuine smile for the first time since approaching me. I’ve found that people love talking about themselves – even if it’s a ridiculously boring topic – and that’s how I hoped to lull Stella into a false sense of security. “The carnival company covers the entire country, but we’re broken up into regional groups.”
Off the Record (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 10) Page 12