Moe Gold was only small in stature. His piercing eyes and analytical brain seldom missed much. An ability to put together an accurate assessment of a series of events from limited little pieces of evidence had won the Dade County D.A. a high rate of convictions.
"You ain't gonna like this one, though. Déjà vu," he said.
"What’re you talkin’ about?" Warner enjoyed the little man's Jew's often dry, cutting humor.
"The vic, Al. The vic. That's one beautiful dead sweetheart in there, buddy. She could have given even an old cocker like me a good hard-on. Take a look. You can move her a little if you want. I've done my prelims. Oy, what a waste!"
Chuckling, the detective headed for the other door. He saw her immediately, sprawled across the bed. Her head dangled over the side of the mattress, sightless, distended dark blue eyes, now milky with death, glared angrily at the ceiling. He walked around to the other side for a better look.
Jesus, she was gorgeous. Used to be, anyhow. What a terrific body. Familiar looking, too. Damn, he'd seen her… or her photo… somewhere. But where, damn it? Well, it would probably come to him. He pivoted, taking his time, slowly scanning the room, searching for something that might strike him as wrong or out of place.
Al Warner was Metro Dade's chief homicide detective. He got the real murders, not the obvious drug-related shoot-em-ups. Just coming off injury leave, his caseload was already too full. It was wearing him down. That and the recurring nightmares plaguing his sleep since the Leordano affair.
The often-restless nights… and plenty bad dreams like the one he was having that morning… conspired to make him tired… very tired. What sleep he got didn't bring much real rest. But he couldn't can't take any more time off.
Just too many loonies out there, and it was his job to get them.
CHAPTER SIX
The Hawk's comments made him leery of something pretty scary, and he'd had enough of that with Leordano. His stomach churned at that memory, the acidic f umes taste of bile sliding up this throat as he looked at the dead young coed.
Her once exquisite face was bloated, eyes and tongue distended, the normal results from strangulation. He could see the dark discoloration at the front of her throat where the perp buried his thumbs. Lifting one of the girl's shoulders, he noted the raw bruises on the side and back of her neck.
Strangled by hand from the front, both thumbs crushing the larynx. Put her out of action almost instantly. No signs of a struggle… no defensive wounds he could see. Checking her hands, the ruby finger nails seemed clean. No skin residue from fighting a rapist. She knew the guy, and they were fucking when he killed her. That’s pretty damned callous.
He moved up the bed, crawling onto the side to peer between her legs, searching the sheets beneath.
"Pervert," Gold giggled, standing in the doorway, arms crossed.
"Yeah, they’d completed the act. Lots of sperm all over. Ain't these kids ever heard of AIDS? He sure didn't use a rubber.
"Looks like she must have known him , too . No forced entry. No signs of rape. Nope, this honey was a willful participant. She let the guy bang her, then kill her. Much to her surprise, I suspect."
"You got any idea on the time of death, Moe?"
"That's the M.E.'s job, Al."
"Don't feed me that shit, Gold. You got an opinion on everything. I'm not gonna carve it in stone. Just a ballpark to work with, ‘til the M.E. finishes. Give me a head start, will ya?"
"Jeez, what a pushy bastard. Well, based on her current temp and rigidity, I guess One, maybe Two AM. Don't go quoting me to Luis, now. Okay.?"
"What’re you worried about, Moe? They gonna send you to the principal's office?"
"Touchy, touchy this morning, aren't we, detective? You know, you aughta get more sleep. You look like shit!"
"Yeah? Well, it ain't for lack of tryin’. I've hit the sack early three or four times in the last week. I sleep, but don't seem to get much rest. Lots of nightmares since Leordano. I guess my little dance with that bastard ain't been so good for my dreams."
"Yeah, well that was nasty, all right. And you were pretty lucky at the end. I tell ya, Al, the world's full of crazies. A normal guy like me wouldn't do something like this. Our mommies taught us better. With a beauty like this, make love, not war.
"Anyway, back to work. Find this mumzer quick, Al. My kishkies tell me this guy might make Leordano look like a boy scout."
"Why? You think this ain't just a one-timer, Moe?" Icy fingers skipped down the detective’s spine, prickling the hairs on the back of his neck.
Another serial-killer, so soon after the last crazy bastard? He shuddered, his hand tentatively stroking the hidden scar.
"You ain't been in the bathroom yet, huh?" Gold asked.
"Can't seem to tear myself away from the stiff. Seems familiar, or maybe I’ve seen her photo somewhere. Just can't place it yet." Was he looking for a good reason not to move?
"So, schmuck, go in the bathroom."
"What's there?" Warner’s reluctance was a useless stall. Unnatural panic was rippling just below the surface of his control, a beast ready to rear up and engulf him. Was he really ready for this, so soon after coming back on The Job? His stomach knotted in expectation of something he knew he didn't want to see.
"Go. Then tell me what your gut says."
Warner sighed, accepting the fact he had to go… see what Moe was talking about. Damn! This was his job, and all the nightmare of Leordano, and all the bad dreams weren't going to keep him from doing it, and doing it well! Still, as he started toward the open door, another wave of apprehension washed over him. The last thing he need now was another lunatic.
Worse than Leordano?
Jesus, he hoped not!
He paused for a moment at the threshold, his jaw in a vice-grip. Sighing, he stepped onto the white tile floor of the small room, glancing cautiously around.
It hit him in the face like a blast of Arctic cold, snatching his breath, numbing his mind. He feared something like this from Gold's comments, yet was still unprepared for its shattering impact.
Shit! Oughta be used to it… water off a duck’s back. But after Leordano, everything changed. He changed! He leaned back against to doorjamb for support.
Fucking red lipstick! Why do they use that damned red lipstick? Fucked up loonies, runnin’ around killin’ people. They love the dramatic, but this one’s pretty fuckin’ trite.
He hunkered, motionless for several moments, barely breathing, trying to absorb every nuance of the message, scrawled across the vanity mirror in vivid, blood red block letters. A stark, single word, foretelling more terror and death.
"Shit!" he muttered aloud, his stomach doing its own version of Rock and Roll. The sour taste of last night's TV dinner in his throat, he turned and stumbled out of the room, shivering from an unnatural cold.
Better finish what he had to do, then get the Hell out of there. He'd return later once he settled down. An oppressive weight, a leaden drape, was dragging him down, smothering the very breath from his lungs.
Not again!
Shit! Another maniac, with Leordano barely cold in the ground
Not again!
≠ ≠ ≠ ≠
You can read more of this riveting Detective Al Warner suspense novel, the first of many in the series. You can find it at:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P2V63X0
In both Kindle and print. Also available at Nook, Smashwords and local book stores
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