by Jim Gallows
Jake turned at the sound of heavy footsteps behind them.
‘That would be breaking and entering,’ a gruff voice rumbled. ‘I would expect cops to know that.’
Makowski was standing about twelve feet away from them. He was dressed in a different Metallica shirt from the last time Jake saw him, but it was as tortured as the first had been. He looked like he hadn’t shaved since that day. His face was blank, neither threatening nor alarmed.
‘I’m Detective Austin, this is my partner Detective Mills.’ He reached towards his pocket for his badge, but the movement brought a smirk from Makowski.
‘I don’t need to see your badge. I can smell cop. Besides, I know you. You’re the guy who sucker-punched me at the church.’
Jake took his hand away, letting it fall by his side. ‘From where I was standing, you went for me.’
‘Hey, it was a peaceful protest until you clowns came along. Now get off my property.’
Mills stepped in. ‘We only want to ask you a few questions.’
‘Without a warrant?’ asked Makowski, as if he were explaining the nuances of police procedure to them.
‘What law school did you go to?’ asked Jake. ‘We’re standing in an unfenced yard. Now let’s all stop dicking around and have a talk inside.’
‘Not gonna happen.’
‘Fine. We can talk out here.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘Then we’ll be back,’ said Jake. ‘And I can tell you’re the kind of man who doesn’t want the attention of cops.’
Makowski scowled. ‘Fine. But make it fast, then get the hell outta my yard.’
‘Mr Makowski,’ said Mills, doing his best to sound cheery and breezy, ‘we just want to know why you seem so interested in this whole highway business.’
‘Why?’ said Makowski. ‘You think a guy like me shouldn’t be interested in the issues that affect the people of this town? You think I’m too dumb to understand?’
‘Of course not,’ said Mills; at the same time Jake was thinking, Now that you mention it …
Jake finished Mills’s response: ‘We’ve just noticed you’re clearly passionate about the issue. We were curious as to why.’
Makowski shrugged. ‘I’m just a citizen who cares about the earth and shit. Littleton doesn’t need an interstate ripping through our town and digging up the churches.’
‘No argument from me,’ said Mills. ‘But I don’t see you as the community leader type.’
‘The call came and I answered. You don’t have to wear a suit and tie to care about things.’
‘And what’s in it for you?’ asked Jake, ignoring the urge to tell Makowski he doubted he could even knot a tie.
‘My town staying just the way I like it.’
‘So you bring along a mob and try to start a riot?’
Makowski shrugged. ‘Just exercising my right to protest. First Amendment and all.’
This was going nowhere, but Jake didn’t want to let him know the real reason they were there because Makowski would clam up. He was stupid, but not stupid enough not to call a lawyer when he was threatened with a murder charge.
‘You struck a police officer during your protest,’ Jake told him.
‘And you’re going to bring me in for that? I don’t think so. If you were, you’d have done it already. And it wouldn’t be just the two of you come to pick me up. And you’d have that warrant we talked about …’
Makowski was right. Jake felt the tension returning to his head, doing a duet with the burn in his gut. The case was full of dead leads. Jake needed to shake something loose before the killer struck again.
‘It’s an offence,’ he said.
‘I don’t recall striking anyone. Near as I can recall, I was waving my banner, shouting my slogans, and the next thing I know some cop puts me flying through the air like we’re in the Octagon. And, you know, I don’t feel so good. Maybe I should sue.’
Mills smiled. ‘You’ve been very helpful, Mr Makowski. Do you have a phone number in case we have any other questions?’
‘Tell you what – if I have any other information, I’ll give you a call. We done here?’
Mills looked at Jake and shrugged. He turned towards the car. ‘Thanks for your time, Mr Makowski,’ said Mills, making no attempt to seem genuine.
As he made to follow his partner, Jake’s mind was racing. He needed to think of something fast, something to give them the leverage they needed. He stopped and turned, heading over to Makowski and standing a few feet in front of him. Not right in the guy’s personal space, but close enough for the subtle challenge to be received, loud and clear.
‘Nice place you got here,’ said Jake. A guy like Makowski would respond to patronizing. He probably couldn’t spell the word, but he would understand the concept. ‘Good mortgage rate?’
He sensed Makowski stiffening. He had found the button. Now it was time to press on it – and the other buttons that Jake knew were clustered around it.
‘But I suppose, between you and your sister, you’re making ends meet pretty well, huh?’
Makowski moved fast for a big man pushing fifty. But he moved without thought, without technique. He lunged at Jake’s shoulder and shoved him back violently. On any other occasion it would have been a dumb move to make. Makowski should have known that the man he was attacking was trained, adept. The worst thing he could have done was to shove him back, creating distance between them – distance that would allow Jake to set himself, get his balance and counter-attack.
On a normal day this altercation would have been over inside three seconds. But this was not a normal day. Instead, Jake let his body fall into the reverse momentum created by Makowski’s shove; he let his right foot land in the big empty paint-bucket he had clocked when they arrived; he let his balance tip back, as if the bucket was upending him. He hit the ground and let himself roll.
By the time he had sat up, Mills had done an about turn and pulled his service weapon, which he now had aimed directly at Makowski’s head.
‘Oh dear, Makowski,’ he said. ‘That’s the second time you’ve assaulted an officer in three days.’
Jake smiled. Now they had a real reason to bring in Makowski.
By the end of the day they would know just how seriously to take him as a suspect.
33
Wednesday, 5 p.m.
They were glad when they got back to the station. Makowski had bitched the whole way, and only calmed down when Mills threatened to mace him. They had to drag him to get him inside.
Mills grinned at Sara, who was just getting ready to leave for the evening. ‘Any news while we were out? Any more bodies dug out of the asylum?’
‘No – still at two, just like our body count,’ she replied.
‘Looks like everything is under control then. Feel like going out and getting shitfaced with a cute detective?’
Sara barely looked at Mills as she sauntered out of the station with a smirk. ‘If a cute detective asks me, I’d consider it.’
Jake led Makowski to a cell. ‘Need a lawyer?’
‘I ain’t done nothing. I don’t need a lawyer. This is just a jackass complaint to harass me.’
No lawyer was fine by Jake. He gently pushed Makowski inside, then shut the door on him. He planned to leave him there for an hour. A cooling-off period often softened someone up for interrogation.
Jake used the hour to do paperwork. A second killing in two days had done wonders for the ME’s focus, and they already had a preliminary report. It made horrific reading.
Belinda Harper had suffered terrible injuries before her death. There was evidence of considerable blunt-force trauma to her head, just like in the killing of Marcia Lamb. Several of the teeth were missing, the jaw left mangled and deformed.
Jake read the clinical details: ‘Both eyeballs were extruded. On initial examination, neither eyeball showed extensive trauma or tearing. Conclusion: eyeballs not levered out with a sharp instrument. One tooth missing from the
upper jaw. Four teeth missing from the lower mandible, which is fractured in six places. Considerable damage to the cranium, all ante-mortem. Severe bleeding within the cranium, and within the brain, which was the likely cause of death.’
He skimmed through to the preliminary conclusion: ‘Initial findings indicate that blunt-force trauma to the head resulted in internal bleeding within the brain. The victim was probably conscious for the infliction of most of the injuries. Bruising indicates that the length of the assault was between thirty and forty minutes.’
Mills, reading over his shoulder, muttered, ‘Jeez. I’ve seen my share of heads beaten in, but none like that. And the eyes …’
That was bothering Jake too. A blow to the head, however strong the assailant, would not pop the eyes out of a victim’s skull, and yet the ME was clear that they hadn’t been scooped out. Something deep in his memory was sending signals to him. It took a few minutes, but when Jake thought about the eyeballs it finally came to him.
‘I’ve seen this before.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Not the whole thing, but the eyes. Back in Chicago. I need to speak to the ME.’
Mills reeled off the number, and Jake punched it in. A busy assistant fielded the call.
‘Dr Zatkin is tied up at the moment. Can I take a message?’
Jake looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly six. The doctor might have left already, but he thought not. He hoped not.
‘This is Detective Jake Austin,’ he said, ‘the lead investigator on both homicides. If the doc can be pulled away, it would be a big help.’
The ME was on the line quickly. ‘Detective, what can I do for you? You’ve got my initial report? It will be a few more days before I have the full version.’
‘I’ve got the report, Doctor, thank you. You describe the head injuries, but there’s not much speculation as to how they could have been caused.’
‘That’s not my place, Detective. And, to be honest, the injuries were like nothing I’ve ever come across in all my years in the profession.’
‘I might be able to help with that,’ said Jake. ‘I’m going to throw a scenario at you and see what you think.’
‘Go ahead.’ The ME sounded interested.
‘Back in Chicago I came across a homicide with similar features. It was a drug dealer, one of my informants. When we found him his head was crushed and one of the eyeballs was missing.’
‘And did you ever determine a cause of death?’ she asked.
‘We did. He was found in a car chop shop, and that’s what gave us the clue. He was held down and a car was lowered on to his head until they had all the information they needed.’
‘That’s charming.’
‘Could this be a crushing injury?’ Jake asked.
‘Difficult to see how – both primary crime scenes were indoors, weren’t they? There was nothing heavy that could have done this.’
‘But in principle?’
There was a long pause on the line, then the doctor came back. ‘It’s an interesting idea,’ she said. ‘I’ll bear it in mind when we’re doing the detailed examination of the skull.’
Jake thanked her and hung up the phone. He looked at Mills, who had been working the computer with one ear on the conversation.
Mills raised his eyebrows. ‘I’ve got Makowski’s file.’
Jake was beside him in an instant and scanning the screen. Makowski had priors. But as they looked at his rap sheet some of their enthusiasm waned. None of the priors was recent. The last was twenty-two years ago, for felony possession. It was his only felony.
‘So much for three strikes,’ said Jake.
‘Not quite. If he gets charged with assault on Belinda and attacking her car as separate offences, that’s three felonies. Twenty-five to life. A good lawyer could probably prevent that, of course, but if he ended up with an incompetent public defender, who knows?’
‘So he’s got motive,’ said Jake. ‘I like him for this a hell of a lot more than I like Sonny Malone.’
‘Does he tick enough boxes for us to go to the judge?’
Jake looked up at the clock on the wall.
‘Let’s take our time. If we apply after six, he’s too late to get a lawyer, and we can hold him overnight.’
He smiled to himself. Things were looking like they might be starting to go his way.
34
Wednesday, 8 p.m.
Makowski hadn’t taken it well when he found out he was going to sleep over. But it left the way clear for Jake and Mills to execute the search warrant – after Mills had reminded Jake that they’d be having a Christmas party at the station that night.
‘That’s still happening?’ Jake had asked as they left the station.
‘It’ll be low key,’ Mills insisted, zipping up his jacket and stuffing his hands into the pockets. It wasn’t snowing, but the air was sharp. ‘Unofficial, almost. I guess everyone feels like they could use a break, you know? A distraction, just for a couple of hours or so.’
As he opened the car and they got in, Jake thought he could see the sense of that.
‘I tell you,’ said Mills as Jake started the car and pulled away, ‘anything after last year’s would be low key.’
Jake didn’t ask what happened last year, but Mills told him anyway. As he drove, Jake barely listened, but he did hear, ‘… me … three uniforms … Jäger-bomb contest … vacuum cleaner …’
Whatever filled in the gaps, Mills seemed to think was hilarious, but when they came within sight of Makowski’s caravan, his laughter died away. Distractions were all well and good, but they had a job to do.
Jake parked, and they got out, stepping towards it with natural, instinctive caution, even though they knew exactly where the occupant was. From what they could see in the darkness the caravan was exactly as they had left it a few hours earlier. The padlock was still hanging from the door. They pushed, but the door was locked. Mills pulled out a penknife and opened a blade. He pushed the blade in the door jamb near the lock and levered slightly. The door gave a little. He put his hand on the handle and pulled sharply. The door popped open, no damage done.
They stepped into the caravan. It was not big. There was a main room – an indoor junkyard – with a bedroom leading off it, and a small kitchen. At the other end of the trailer Jake knew they would find a shower unit and a small toilet. He had thought it wouldn’t take long to search the place, but there seemed to be stuff everywhere.
Which meant that he was going to be late home. Again.
‘Where do we start?’ asked Mills. ‘What are we looking for?’
‘Souvenirs,’ Jake replied. ‘A lot of serials keep them. Maybe an item from a lady’s purse, a small bit of jewellery. Or we could strike lucky and he might have kept a tooth. The ME doesn’t have a complete set for either body. Also look out for porn – these guys tend to use it.’
‘I hate to think what you would make of my house.’
Jake laughed as he opened a drawer and started looking through it. Keys. Bills. Receipts. ‘I mean unusual stuff. A copy of Penthouse doesn’t count.’
‘Hustler ?’
‘Now you’re borderline.’
The two men began systematically searching the main living area. They worked quickly but thoroughly. Every cupboard was opened, every pile of junk moved to check behind it. They lifted the sofa and examined the floor beneath. They shifted chairs. They found plenty of beer cans, more than a few empty bottles of Jack Daniel’s, but no body parts. Near the television they found a box of DVDs, and Jake’s interest was piqued as he scanned the titles.
Top of the list was Mad Max, and then Monster, the story of the female serial killer Aileen Wuornos. There were a couple of Second World War documentaries about the Nazis too. In the bottom of the box Jake found a pamphlet: a history of Littleton from its founding in 1816 to the end of the Second World War.
What are you doing reading this? Maybe you do care about the town.
‘Howard, the guy s
eems to have an interest in the dark and violent,’ said Jake, showing Mills the DVDs and the pamphlet.
‘And history,’ said Mills. ‘Keep looking.’
They found his porn stash a few minutes later. The guy had made no attempt to conceal it. There was a locker under the television, and when they opened it they found a stack of magazines and about a dozen films. Mills took out the magazines and began flicking rapidly through. Jake removed the DVDs and quickly checked the titles.
‘Notice a theme?’ asked Mills. All the material was about bondage and S & M.
They took the search next into the bedroom, but found nothing. The place was probably crawling with things it was best not to think about. No way Makowski brought dates back here. But it gave no more insight into the man’s character. The toilet and shower were checked, then they moved into the kitchen.
It took about ten minutes to check the shelves and the cupboards. Then Jake turned to Mills. ‘Come on. The warrant covers the yard.’
They headed straight to the small locked timber shed near the trees.
Mills got to work on the lock, and a minute later they had the door open. It was a small space with plenty of carpentry tools. There was a worktable with a light overhead. Jake found the switch. He threw it but it stayed dark.
‘I guess it takes power from the trailer,’ said Mills.
Jake looked around using his penlight, followed the wire from the bulb to the switch, from the switch to a small hole in the wall of the shed. He stepped out. Just as Mills said, there was a weatherproof socket and an extension lead going back to the trailer. He connected the socket, and the light came on.
It was the only place that was cleaned regularly. The floor was swept, and all the tools seemed to be where they should be. There was a gun rack on the wall, with two rifles and space for a third. Jake speculated as to how and where Makowski could have lost it. He hoped the weapon was not going to be turning up in any Littleton investigations any time soon. Misplaced weapons had a nasty habit of showing up again.
One corner seemed slightly less organized than the rest of the room. There were some unfinished bits of furniture and a Black & Decker Workmate, a portable bench with clamps that carpenters take on the job with them.