With a call to the front desk, I discovered that one of the day shift desk clerks handled all mail and deliveries. They told me the hotel did not pass out any advertising to their guests.
If the first flyer had been hand-delivered, it most likely would have been added to the mail I was having transferred to the hotel during my stay. Interesting. Had the note writer sent that flyer?
I made the last trip home with Clyde, got him situated, and took a warm shower. Even with the heavy odor of paint, it was good to be home. I started to get ready for bed when I felt a sudden temptation to go to the Pewter Mug and find out what it was that someone wanted to tell me. I knew I should consult TJ before I left home, but it hardly seemed dangerous since it was a public place.
Still, why the secrecy?
Chapter 53
TJ spent the morning bringing their things back home from Richard’s apartment. When she finished, she checked in with Tasha Wade.
The detective answered quickly. In response to TJ’s immediate question of whether she was alone, she answered, “I’m on my own today. Brian has the flu. It must be really bad. I don’t remember him ever taking a sick day.”
“How come you’re not with the rest of the team workin’ the case?”
“Got the coffee on?” Tasha asked. When TJ said she did, Tasha told her she would stop over on her way to the station.
When Tasha arrived, TJ had mugs set out next to a plate of chocolate cookies she had just baked. JR was in a playpen next to the kitchen table, happily surrounded by a circle of his favorite toys, a cookie in his hand, with crumbs scattered around him on the floor of the pen.
Tasha took a minute to talk to him, laughing when he grabbed for her badge. “Most people don’t use playpens these days. They think it inhibits kids’ discovery of the world or some garbage like that.”
“I’d never get anything done if I didn’t use it once in a while. That letting-the-kid-roam-free shit might work for moms who are home twenty-four seven, but if you got a job? Impossible.”
Tasha agreed and sat across from TJ, who poured coffee from a carafe and offered the cookies. “Really appreciate you comin’ over again. I was gonna go over what to do next, and I hate to spin my wheels. Comparing notes with you really helps.”
“You can’t tell anybody about our meetings, you know. Especially your detective boyfriend,” Tasha warned.
“That goes without sayin’. I can usually get what I need from him, only this is a lot easier and won’t make me owe him anything.”
“Yeah, it’s tough to be beholden,” Tasha said, grinning. “You asked about the team working this. It’s headed by a guy named Lukaszewski. He’s a real jerk, one of those cops who thinks he knows it all and thinks the rest of us are just peons who are there to help him out. He’s been on another case for a few days, one that’ll make him look like a big shot.”
“I met a few like that in my day.”
“Haymaker and I work well together because we’re both outcasts in a way. Me, because I’m a woman, and a black one at that, and Brian because he’s new and comes from a small town. I know you two don’t hit it off, but he’s a good guy and a bright detective. I only made detective about ten months ago and he’s helped me a lot.
“Anyway, Lukaszewski and his crew went back to the beginning and questioned some of the high school kids again. They think creeping has to be at the root of everything. Brian and I agree with that to a degree, but Lukaszewski is convinced Teschler’s not related to the other crimes, and he believes the Krauses’ alibis. They do have them, but you know how that goes; their alibis aren’t exactly cast in stone.”
“How about the folks from the swingers’ group? Did you alibi all of them?”
This information could save TJ a lot of work if the detective was willing to share.
“Yeah. Donald Braun’s cleared, and so are Sam Diermeyer and Barbara Krause. Anna Krause was working on the nights in question. I don’t know if they’ve talked to any of the swingers’ kids.”
TJ let it all sink in for a minute while she checked on JR, who reached out for another cookie. They were small, so she handed him one more. “I’m likin’ Kane Diermeyer or Martin Krause for bein’ the one pullin’ the strings. Martin Krause has a young peoples’ support group for that church they all belong to, and Kane teaches music. Drucilla has ties to both of them. She’s in the church group and takes music lessons from Kane. If she an’ her brother are doin’ the nasty, then wouldn’t they be weird enough to take another person with them and do it in houses?”
Tasha added coffee to her mug, nodding agreement. “What if this leader wasn’t always just pulling strings? Maybe he started doing the trespassing with the other two and only quit when a third person joined in.”
“Possible, but doesn’t change anything.”
“I’m with you on this mastermind theory, but I think it’ll save a lot of time if we nail the doers first. That’s how we’ll get him—when a follower gives him up,” Tasha said.
“I was thinkin’ that, too. We need to get enough on the Krause kids to support a search warrant for their house.”
“I won’t be able to get a warrant on my own, even if we can get more evidence. I’ll have to wait until Brian comes back because Lukaszewski won’t listen to me.” She sighed at TJ’s disapproving look and grabbed another cookie. “Guess I have to grow a pair, right? I’ll talk to Lukaszewski.”
“Good. I’ll see if I can get you more proof. I can do things you guys can’t.” She picked up a sandwich bag, filled it with cookies, and handed it to Tasha when she stood to leave.
“For the road.”
TJ, once more using her sister’s nondescript car, drove past the Krause’s place looking for either of the sibs. The two Krause cars were registered to Anna Krause. She had seen Lucian and Drucilla both use one of the cars, an old Ford sedan. Their mother drove an even older Buick. The garage door was open, and the Ford sat in the driveway.
She noticed Lucian across the street, mowing the lawn in Rosemary Haynes’s yard. Haynes had probably called him to come over and get it done before it rained. The forecast predicted they were in for yet another stormy night.
As usual, Lucian wore an old gray hoodie that served to cover his freakish face. He paused to drink from a bottle of water he pulled from a pocket of his hoodie. The bottle would make an excellent source of DNA. The trick would be finding where he deposited the empty bottle and then whether it would be possible to snatch it.
It looked like Lucian had just begun his task, so TJ decided to swing past again later. When she arrived at the church, there were only two cars in the lot. Were they about to close for the day? She parked on a side street and walked to the entrance. The cars looked like the same two she had seen on her last visit, which meant Martin Krause was there. She could hardly ask him for an alibi but if she asked the right questions it could serve the same purpose.
Irene Abendoth sat vigil at the front desk.
She said, “I didn’t expect to see you again. I’ve told you everything I know.”
TJ doubted that. “I didn’t come here to see you, Irene. Is Martin around?”
“He’s in the pastor’s office.” She rose from her chair. “I’ll get him for you.”
TJ watched as she went down a narrow hallway, surprised that Abendoth had agreed to find Martin so quickly. Probably thought that got her off the hook. When she came back, she gestured for TJ to go to the office to meet Krause.
She followed the hallway to the only open office, where Martin Krause sat behind an old mahogany desk that had been polished to a bright sheen. The office was simply decorated. The only color that relieved the neutral décor was a portrait of Jesus, his hair in long, flowing tresses, his face beatific, his gaze to the heavens.
TJ entered the room and sat in a chair in front of the desk.
“Pastor not back from
vacation yet?” she asked.
“What brings you here again, Ms. Peacock?” Martin Krause sat back with his fingers tented in front of him, apparently not rattled by her visit. “I’m still acting pastor,” he said with no further explanation.
She wanted him off his game. “Thought you’d like to know what I saw the other night.”
“All right, I’ll bite. What did you see that made you feel you had to come here and tell me about it?”
“Came across a cemetery way out in the sticks. It was kinda’ hidden in a big stand of pine trees.”
“And this would interest me, because. . .?”
Krause would make a skilled poker player. Nothing about his body language or expression revealed any knowledge of the cemetery where she had seen Drucilla Krause the night she followed her. As assistant pastor, Martin would be privy to everything the church did and had to know about it. TJ wasn’t sure what it was about the cemetery, but something wasn’t kosher. She wished she had taken time to talk to Richard’s contact.
“Struck me that cemetery had to be hidden away for a reason. One of your flock was visiting there late at night. I haven’t got around to calling the County yet,” she said, hoping that would be the place governing the operation of cemeteries.
Martin Krause lowered his hands to the arms of his chair. She struck a soft spot. “Go ahead. Call them. We have nothing to hide.”
Sure as shit, they did have somethin’ to hide. He would have lost the poker game at this point. Krause’s words of denial, obvious lies, convinced TJ the cemetery did belong to The New Followers of Christ. His tense body language now opposed his words; the last thing he wanted was to have TJ call the County. What else was he covering up? She had to keep at him while she had him on the ropes.
“You know, some folks are sayin’ these murders here in Tosa all have somethin’ to do with a swingers’ club from sixteen years ago. You know, the one your parents belonged to before your father and Lillian Diermeyer committed suicide?”
“I don’t have to listen to your insinuations.” Krause stood quickly and ushered TJ out the door and down the hallway to the entrance. “And don’t come back,” he added as he opened the door.
She went back to the car and opened her phone, intending to call Richard. He hadn’t complained about her going out again tonight, but she had sensed his disapproval. TJ wondered for at least the hundredth time how she would ever be able to juggle being a good mom with being a good investigator, and doing the kind of work she wanted to do. It shouldn’t be impossible. Other women managed to have careers but they had normal nine to five jobs. Maybe she and Richard should get married. It would certainly give JR more stability.
While TJ pondered her situation she noticed Martin leave the building followed by Abendoth, who locked the door behind them. She wondered if a look through the Church’s premises would be helpful. She could get in easily enough if she needed to. The locks hadn’t looked too complicated.
Martin Krause drove east toward the city. It was nearly dark, and although it hadn’t rained yet, the air was heavy with ozone. Torn between driving back to find Lucian’s water bottle and following Martin, TJ opted to follow Martin. Then as his route continued eastward, away from the cemetery, she decided the better plan would be to check out his house while he was gone. She turned the car around.
Chapter 54
In the Pewter Mug, the jazz band that was there last week had been replaced by a bearded man playing classical guitar accompanied by a girl in a long black dress straddling a cello. Surprisingly, the mellow background music they played had drawn a rather large crowd.
I stood between the bar and the tables that surrounded the stage and looked for the person who wanted to talk to me. When no one approached me, I allowed the hostess to seat me at a table in the back of the room where I could watch the entrance for my note writer. The strains of the music were winding down when the waitress placed my drink order in front of me, a glass of white wine I hadn’t really wanted. After a few sips, I felt more relaxed and determined to see this through.
I glanced at my watch and saw that my informant was ten minutes late. The people in the room began to stir and clap as the man with the guitar announced a singer was going to perform. He introduced him as “Kane.” I had never heard of him, but the rest of the room appeared excited and clapped until he walked out and sat on a small stool in the middle of the stage. All the lights went down except for a filtered spot that poured down from the ceiling and centered on the lone singer.
His appearance had me mesmerized before he even sang a note. Dressed simply in a pair of dark jeans and a loosely woven beige shirt, he had a handsome face with quite generic features, except for his eyes, which were a brown so deep they were almost black. They gleamed out to the audience from under the ray of the spotlight. His slightly wavy, dark brown hair, amazingly long for a man, hung far below his shoulders, shiny and beautiful enough to be in an ad for hair products. Every woman in the room appeared to be captivated by him. And if they weren’t already, when he began to sing a slow, a capella version of Bob Dylan’s, “Lay, Lady, Lay,” every one of them looked like they wanted to take him to their beds. His voice had an intimate, dusky quality that brought the lyrics to life, sending his admirers an intimate message.
After the first verse of the song, the cellist joined him, the low, hollow strain of the cello a perfect accompaniment. I watched him as he sang, and like the rest of the women present, I imagined he was singing only to me. The song grew more intense. Because my sensuality had been piqued by the words of the song and the piercing gaze of the singer, I hadn’t noticed the people at the next table looking in my direction. When I did, I realized why they were staring—he was singing to me. My heart began to race and I felt an insistent stirring above my thighs. I was as turned on by this singer as a thirteen-year-old at her first rock concert. When the waitress signaled me for another drink, I nodded.
Three women sitting at table next to the stage reached out to touch Kane. He bent forward to stroke their fingers with his own as he began the next song, one requested by a woman sitting next to the stage, “You Are So Beautiful,” another sensual love song from the past, popularized by Joe Cocker.
I listened, enthralled, before remembering my purpose here tonight. I looked around the room, but no one seemed to be watching for me. The person who said he wanted to meet me here hadn’t shown up. A tiny thread of fear rippled through me. Was he waiting outside for me to leave? I hadn’t thought this through very well. I would stay here until the singer left the stage, then call TJ. I would feel safer if someone knew where I was. It was rather late, and I knew she would be annoyed with me, but I thought she would want me to call under these circumstances. If I didn’t reach her, I could ask the hostess if someone could walk me to my car.
The room went still after Kane left the stage, so I pulled out my phone to make the call. It went straight to voice mail. I left a message for TJ explaining where I was and why and promised to call her in the morning. Before I rose from the table, the waitress appeared and placed a fresh glass of wine in front of me. “From Kane,” she explained.
I couldn’t deny the thrill I felt. Men were attracted to me, yes, but this man? He had to be at least ten years younger than me and could have his choice of any woman in this room. I felt like a teenager at her first dance when the captain of the football team looks her way. My breath caught in my throat when he sat next to me. A subtle musk scent emanated from him. I inhaled. It was nothing like the colognes most men wore, its undertones purely sensual. He smiled and held out his hand.
“Kane.”
“Gemma.” I took his hand. It felt warm in mine, his touch as sexy as if he slid probing fingers inside my blouse. His lustrous hair smelled of shampoo. I wanted to slide my fingers through his long tresses, pull him to me until we were pressed against each other and I could feel every inch of him against me.
What was happening to me? It must have been that third glass of wine that wiped out all my inhibitions. Alcohol tended to hit me harder than it did most people. I have never been one to be very impulsive, but I knew if this man asked, I would do anything he wanted.
His eyes told me what he wanted.
When I pulled up next to him in a parking area behind a long row of buildings in downtown Tosa, I had cooled off enough to ask myself what the hell I was thinking. My judgment was seriously lacking, probably because I was light-headed from the wine. When I stepped out of my car and Kane took me in his arms, all caution vanished.
Instead of the passionate kisses I expected, he placed his hands on either side of my face and his lips softly caressed mine, then trailed down my neck to the top of my neckline. The soft sensuality of the kiss took my breath away. He took my hand and led me up to his apartment.
I guess I had expected one of those scenes where we ripped each other’s clothes off the minute the door closed. Again he surprised me. He walked me to the sofa without turning on a light, the room lit only by a small nightlight. After I sat down, he leaned forward and kissed me, more urgently now, his lovely hair brushing the sides of my face. I ran my fingers through it and pulled him closer until he lay next to me. The tip of his tongue ran along my neck and traveled into my open neckline to the top of my bra. I couldn’t wait for him to undo it and release my breasts to his touch. When I thought I couldn’t wait a moment longer, he kissed my lips and rose from the couch.
“I’ll get us some wine,” he said and left me panting for more of him. As he left the room, he put on some soft music and lit candles that quickly filled the room with a soft, vanilla fragrance.
I heard a phone vibrating. The sound was coming from the side of the sofa, where his phone must have slid out of his pocket. I knew I should tell him he had a call, but I was curious to see who would be calling him so late. It had to be a woman. I picked up the phone and looked at the name on the screen—Drucilla. At the sight of it, my sensuality morphed into fear.
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