“That’s fine, Mr. Snyder. I’ll leave it like this: I’ll do some checking into LifeTech—and you—as well as making more attempts to contact any living relatives of Daniel Huber. I will only sign his body over to LifeTech after that is all completed, after I’ve determined that there are no living relatives, that the body is officially unclaimed, and I have a court document signed by a common-pleas-court judge ordering me to do so.”
“Sergeant, I have never had to go through court proceedings to claim a body. Most people are more than happy to—”
“There’s always a first time, Mr. Snyder. Tell me, who does the actual tissue removal for LifeTech in this area? Local doctors?”
He was silent for a brief moment. “Sergeant, I’m sorry, I’ve just had someone walk into my office. I’ll be in touch.”
He promptly hung up, giving me the impression that he didn’t want to answer any questions about the doctors. Coop, who had miraculously stayed silent through the entire conversation, was ready to explode.
“For Christ’s sake, what was that all about?” he barked.
“That was probably one of the nastiest things I’ve ever heard of.” I shivered. “Eew.”
Then I filled Coop in on the details.
“You’ve got to be shitting me? You mean they take pieces and parts of dead people and ship them all over the country?”
“Yup.”
“Ugh. That is nasty. Nooo thanks. I’m keeping all my shit when I’m dead. My luck, they’d hack off my dick and send it to some poor soul whose wife caught him fucking around and whacked his off before feeding it to the family dog.” He unconsciously, I think, placed his hands over his groin.
“Don’t worry, Coop. From what Naomi says, I don’t think they make needles small enough to sew on what you have. Superglue, maybe.”
His face turned red. “Is that right? Well I’ll show you a needle small…” He stood up and started to unbutton his pants, just as Naomi appeared at the door.
Laughing uncontrollably, I yelled to her, waving my hands. “Naomi! Please! Tell him not to unleash Godzilla!”
“What the hell is going on?” She looked horrified.
Before Coop could lash into her, I intervened. “Coop…settle down, big boy, I was joking. Trust me, Naomi said you’re no less than Tarzan himself.”
Naomi caught on and began laughing, too. Coop, realizing for the millionth time in his life that he had been the butt of another joke, calmed down and reclaimed his seat. We filled Naomi in on LifeTech Industries. Her reaction was more forgiving than ours.
“I know you guys think the concept is gross and all, but places like that really do help people. I had an uncle who received a dental implant from a corporation like LifeTech.”
“It is gross,” I said. “I just don’t know how I could cope, waking up each day knowing I had a dead guy’s bicuspid in my mouth.”
“Would you rather be toothless?” she asked.
“I guess you’re right.” I looked at Coop and raised my eyebrows. “Well? How’d we fare on getting the other detectives?”
“You can have ‘em. Coop said he’d watch five straight days of sports channels if I didn’t agree.” She glared at him. He smiled.
“Fabulous. Coop, if you want to pass the list along to get them started, I’m going over to Quinn-Herstin. I’d like to speak to Steven Snyder personally.”
I grabbed my briefcase and keys and tried Michael again before heading to the funeral home. He still wasn’t answering his phone. More than dismayed, I called the office. I knew he was never actually in the office, but I presumed I could at least get an answer from his secretary on his whereabouts. All she would tell me is that he was working “in the field” today, as if I didn’t already know that.
“He’s close, Sal.”
“How close?” the man behind the desk, Sal, asked.
“Close enough that we may have a problem.”
This angered Sal. He didn’t need or want another snag. Things had been going too well. The money was flowing, and he wouldn’t stand for a goddamn agent fucking it all up. He turned his chair away from his number-one man and faced the wall.
“I thought you said there was nothing that could lead him to us?”
“I didn’t think so, but according to Tommy, he saw him pokin’ around the warehouse this morning, asking a lot of the right questions.”
“Do you think it’s a leak?”
“No, boss, I don’t think so. He’s smart, but I don’t think he can put something together that isn’t there. Unless he makes shit up—but I think he’s too clean for that. The problem is we need to keep a constant eye on him, and that distracts us from other things. Yeah, he’s close, but if you ask me if he’ll come all the way, I’ll have to say no. But it’s still a problem.”
Sal turned around and faced the man again. “You’re goddamn right it’s a problem! As for the agent being clean, think again! If you look back into his past, you’ll see not everything is clean. And you’re forgetting who he’s married to! If that bitch starts poking around, we’re gonna have more than a ‘problem’!”
The man nodded and stayed silent. He knew better than to infuriate the boss even more than he already had. Sometimes the boss took out his frustrations on the person standing right in front him, the bearer of the bad news. He needed to shine some light, so to speak, in the boss’s eyes.
“There’s no reason for her to poke around. She’s local. She’s not even suspicious, so there’s no worry there, Sal. As for the agent, like I said before, don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”
Sal glared at him. “You just make sure someone’s keeping an eye on her, regardless.”
There wasn’t a funeral going on when I pulled into Quinn-Herstin, something I had worried about. This would hopefully give me Steven Snyder’s undivided attention. He wasn’t hard to find. When I walked in, I immediately noticed a small, thin runt of man with thinning hair and glasses. He was setting flowers on a stand, looking just like he had sounded on the phone.
“Steven Snyder?”
The man looked up from his flowers and turned around, his small mouth forming an artificial welcoming smile. I saw it as aggravation that he had been interrupted.
“Yes?”
“Sergeant Gallagher, Richland Metro.” His smile faded completely. “We just spoke on the phone a while ago.” I held out my badge and identification.
He stood silent, and I noticed his eyes flickered to the direction of a wooden door on the far side of the room. Purposefully trying to wash away his trepidation, his smile reappeared as he walked toward me, hand extended.
“Sergeant Gallagher! How are you? I must say I wasn’t expecting you so soon after our conversation.”
I briefly shook his hand. “I had an interview down the road and thought I would stop by and see you in person.”
Deliberately locking my eyes on the wooden door, I hoped to stir him a little. It worked. His smile faded again. Stepping in front of my view, he held his arm out and pointed in the opposite direction.
“Why don’t we go into my office? We’ll have more privacy there.”
I looked around at the empty room. “It doesn’t look like business is booming, Mr. Snyder. Does it get any more private than this?”
“I really need to be by my phone. I’m expecting an important call.”
I relented and followed him to his office, where I sat on a quite ugly maroon and gold couch that faced his desk.
“Now, Sergeant, I have an appointment in a few minutes, but until then, what can I do for you?”
I got right to the point. “I’d like the names of the persons employed by LifeTech that work out of this funeral home.”
A scowl washed over his face, and his eyes looked behind me at the door of his office. It was so obvious, I turned to see if someone was standing there. No one was.
I was annoyed. “Mr. Snyder, is there something you want to say? Is there someone else here?”
“No, no, Sergea
nt, I’m sorry, I just thought I heard the front door open, and looked to see if it was my appointment. Now tell me again what you need?”
“The names of employees.”
“That’s right. Now let’s see…” He started looking at the gray file cabinets that lined the wall to my right. “I’m not sure which file those are in. Why don’t you leave me a card, and I’ll call you with the names. It could take a while.”
“I’ll wait.” I was not about to let him evade me again.
“I see.” He paused and chewed on his thumbnail before grabbing a pad of paper and a pen.
He began writing. “Here are the names of the two doctors that perform the tissue removals. If you want other names, I cannot give those to you today. It will take phone calls and time, which I do not have right now, unless you have a court order, Sergeant.” He handed me the paper.
I looked at the names on the paper. “Dr. Donovan Esposito and Dr. Neal Schmidt? I’ve never heard of either one of these men before.”
“I can assure you they exist, each with a flourishing practice in Cleveland. They’re subcontracted by LifeTech to perform the tissue removals in this area. All of the doctors contracted by the company are out of Cleveland and assigned certain districts. When a procedure needs to be done, they fly by private plane so they can get here quickly.”
“That makes no sense at all. Why wouldn’t they use local doctors?”
“Because not all are qualified to perform such procedures, and they want the best. LifeTech opens subposts, as you call them, in areas with a high homeless population. Cleveland, Columbus, and Cincinnati are givens, but also in the smaller cities: Mansfield, Youngstown, Akron, and Lima. You get it?”
“I got it.” Not that I really did.
“Now, Sergeant, if you’ll excuse me.” He stood up. “I really need to attend to some things. I’ll be in touch with the rest of the list.”
“I probably shouldn’t hold my breath, should I?” I smiled.
Returning the smile, he led me to the front door. I had to admit, everything about LifeTech sounded solid, but it was Steven Snyder himself who bothered me. He was hiding something, but I didn’t know if I should chalk it up to the genuine weirdness of a funeral director or to something else. Folding up the piece of paper with the doctors’ names and putting it in my purse, I jumped a little when my cell phone blared to life.
“Hi, honey, it’s me.” Michael’s soothing voice came through the phone.
“Michael! I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all day, for crying out loud. How come you haven’t called me?” A sense of relief washed over me.
“Honey, I’ve been busy, but guess who’s on his way home right now?”
“You are!” I looked at my watch. “I didn’t realize how late it was. So, you’re finally going to be home before dark, huh? I guess I should make it worth my while and beat you there.”
“You could make it worth my while and be naked by the time I get home.”
“Sounds good to me.”
I stopped and grabbed Chinese takeout on my way home. It had been a while since Michael and I had time together, and I didn’t want to spend it cooking—not that I cooked much anyway. I wasn’t naked when Michael got home, but planned to be so later. My plans turned into fantasy when, immediately after dinner, Michael’s office phone started ringing. Once again, he stayed behind a closed door. Cleaning up our dishes, I found myself slamming plates into the dishwasher out of sheer frustration. After several minutes of the clanking dishes, Michael came into the kitchen.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Nothing, babe, I’m just cleaning up after dinner.” I literally dumped a handful of silverware right onto the rack before slamming the dishwasher door and turning it on.
“You have to put the silverware in the trays or they’ll fly all over the place.” He walked over to the dishwasher, turned it off, and opened it.
When he was finished, he came up behind me and stood while I opened a bottle of wine, which I fully intended to finish before the night was over. Feeling his hand on my shoulder, I quickly shrugged it off.
“All right, I know you’re mad…I’m sorry.” His pleas falling on deaf ears, he continued. “For Christ’s sake, CeeCee, you know how our jobs are! I can’t just ignore things, just like you can’t.”
I turned around and grabbed my briefcase, pulling out the Daniel Huber murder file.
“You may not be able to ignore things, but I can.” I let the file drop onto the floor. “I can ignore this for six whole hours to spend time with my husband. Unlike you, obviously, I’ve learned that life is too short to be consumed by this fucking job!” I was on the verge of tears.
He sighed and took my hand. “Come with me.”
He led me into his office and made me watch as he unplugged his desk phone. He then turned off his cell phone and went even further by turning off the fax machine.
“There, now.” He leaned against his desk. “What about your promise of being naked when I came home? Still looks like you got your clothes on to me.”
Smiling before lunging into him, I let him carry me upstairs to make love like we hadn’t done in weeks. Satisfied and no longer angry, I fell into a peaceful sleep, Michael right next to me. I thought it had all been a figment of my imagination when I awoke several hours later to find Michael back in his office.
“You just couldn’t keep away for one—” I stopped and saw that Michael was looking at my Daniel Huber murder file.
Looking guilty, he quickly set the file down on his desk as if I hadn’t seen it. “What are you doing up?”
“What are you doing looking at my murder case?” I raised an eyebrow.
He avoided my eyes. “Nothing, I just needed a break from mine and thought I’d poke around in yours. I saw where you put Coop on obtaining a waiting list for donors. Good move.”
“Thanks.” I went in and sat on the small love seat that was against the farthest wall. “I thought there would be more than that. From what I’ve heard, there are a lot of people waiting for organs.”
“You wouldn’t believe how many, or the lengths people will go to get them,” Michael said matter-of-factly.
“You sound as if you know this for a fact.”
“Just stuff I’ve heard,” he said nervously, before changing the subject. “I’m sorry to be working again, Cee, but I thought of something when I was trying to go to sleep. I needed to look at the case file for a minute. C’mon, let’s get back to bed.” He stood up and walked around his desk.
I didn’t move. “Getting anywhere on the Niccolo Filaci murder?”
He looked at me with surprise. “What makes you think I’m investigating that?”
“Because I’m not a moron, and I know you. Your reaction to the news the other night said it all.”
“I can’t tell you that, honey. We already discussed this.”
“Fine, but you can tell me something else. I thought the Cleveland and Youngstown Mafias were wiped out in the Mafia wars of the seventies.”
“That’s not entirely true. When the boss of the Cleveland Mafia died in the late seventies, he didn’t name a successor. That leads to a great power struggle within families. By the early nineties, there was no known boss and no known members. This was actually a myth, since one of the successors who no one, especially the FBI, was aware of, built the family back up. By the year 2000, they were going strong again.”
“And Youngstown?”
“Youngstown has always been hot. Don’t you remember when they tried to kill the county prosecutor just a few years ago?”
I nodded. “I remember even more that the county sheriff who took kickbacks from them got indicted, was found not guilty, and went on to be a lovely state senator.”
“Larry Beneditto.”
“That’s the one.”
“He’s actually a made member of one of the families. Everyone was too scared to touch him. He controlled parts of the NFL for a while, until someone bigger tha
n him took over.”
“Who’s that?”
Michael smiled. “Oh, I forgot his name.”
“You’re so full of shit. What’s his name?”
“C’mon, it’s late and we both need to get some sleep. Don’t bother asking me anything again, because I’m not telling.” He grinned and mimicked zipping his lips.
Sleep was forever a fantasy in my world. I had only gotten two more hours of it when my phone rang. It was Naomi, informing me there had been another murder similar to Daniel Huber’s. Michael had been in such a deep sleep, he hadn’t heard the phone, so before leaving, I put a note on our bathroom counter telling him where I’d be.
This current victim, John Kruse, age twenty-five, had been found just inside the fence at the Mansfield Airport. The fence went for miles around the landing fields, some parts of it in dense areas. Finding a body there was nothing new. People seemed to think that no one ever walked the fence of the airport, and if they dumped a body there, it would be months, if not years, before it was found.
I remember when I worked uniform, we would frequently put bets on who would be the first officer to find a body inside the airport fence in the spring. Most of the body-dumping there occurred in winter months, when the snow was so deep no one would think to look. However, with this particular murder, the body had been thrown over a section of the fence that lined a moderately driven roadway. Anyone would see it. Again, whoever was responsible had made no attempt to hide it.
Naomi and Coop were already on the scene when I arrived, Naomi the first to wave me over.
“It looks the same as Daniel Huber. We’ve possibly got a serial killer on our hands,” she said.
“No, he’s not a serial killer. He’s a multiple murderer,” I corrected her.
“Sorry, I forgot.”
People automatically assume that if one person commits more than one murder, they are deemed a “serial killer.” This is incorrect. Only if law enforcement can prove that the murders are driven by sexual motivation does the term apply. Bundy, Gacy, and Dahmer committed their crimes out of their own sexual urges, making each one of them a serial killer. If you take the sexual aspect out of the crime, the term multiple murderer or mass murderer applies. To my knowledge, there was no indication of sexual trauma or gratification in the Daniel Huber murder, just as I suspected there would be none here. This reasoning also applies to child molesters. Most people call pedophiles child molesters. Again, not true. Only when a pedophile physically acts out his urges on a child does he become a child molester. Although rare, there are a few pedophiles in the world who will never be a child molester.
The Body Mafia Page 3