by M. Z. Kelly
“Just make sure Edna knows what you’re doing.”
As we pulled off the freeway in Lynnwood, I changed the subject. “Did you make any decisions about Wilma?”
“I’m going by her house tonight and have it out.” He wadded up a stick of gum, stuck it in his mouth. “But if she can’t explain her actions I’m cutting my losses, moving on.”
I had trouble seeing Wilma as the cheating type. She was well into her fifties and looked a little like something out of a reality TV show called, Makeovers Gone Horribly Wrong.
“Just be sure you have all the facts before you make a decision,” I said, thinking about how I’d believed Jack was dating another woman. As it turned out he was seen with his sister by someone in the department who made a wrong assumption. “Don’t make my mistake.”
We found Juanita Ramirez’s mother living in an apartment building on the outskirts of Lynnwood. It was a poor neighborhood with lots of graffiti and gang writing. When she opened her door I saw panic that quickly turned into hysteria. As soon as I broke the news, the woman fell into my arms, crying like a little girl. Then she went berserk.
“I going to kill the bastard who do this to my Juanita,” Lydia Sanchez said. She ran down the hallway and pulled a shotgun out of the closet. “He die today.” She racked the gun.
Charlie followed her and pushed the muzzle up, as I removed the weapon from her hands. “Please,” I said. “Don’t make this worse than it is.” I secured the weapon as Charlie escorted her back to the living room. I then came over to her. “Tell us about who you think might have harmed your daughter.”
“He is a no good, son of a beech,” the woman said after taking a seat on the sofa. “Mr. Big Talk, telling Juanita they get married soon. He get her hooked on drugs, take her money. He all lies.”
“What’s his name?”
“Jeremy.” A gusher of tears poured out of her. “He work over at the plant. They meet in the park one day.”
“Do you have a last name?” Charlie asked.
“Shoeman or Sueman, something like that. I don’t know. He’s a big guy, all muscle and mouth.” She blew her nose. “The bastard going to die. He kill my baby girl.” Deep, mournful sobs racked her entire body.
I held her for a few minutes as she cried. When her tears finally lessened, I asked, “Did Jeremy ever threaten Juanita?”
“He hit her. He say if she no give him money, he will kill her family.” She sat up straighter. “I not afraid. He will die.”
After an hour of consoling and controlling Lydia Ramirez, Charlie and I decided it was safe to leave the grieving mother, only after we removed the weapon from the house and got a relative to stay with her.
Before we left we got a little more information on her daughter’s boyfriend. His name was Jeremy Shulman. He had an arrest record for battery. The man Lydia Ramirez suspected of killing her daughter had worked security at Hotel Zen for a few months, quitting his job right after Juanita disappeared.
We stopped by Taylor Sheetmetal in Lynnwood where Lydia Ramirez said Shulman worked. We talked to the foreman on duty.
“The guy worked here a couple of days,” Ray Broome advised. The boss man was probably pushing sixty but was as fit and lean as a teenage boy. “I suspected he stole some of our equipment. I went to the swap meet and found him there trying to sell it. I called the cops. He took off and hasn’t been seen since.”
“Did the company fire him?” Charlie asked.
Broome nodded. “If we ever see him back here I’m going slap his ass in a tube bender and then bring out the drill press.”
“Did he ever mention Juanita Sanchez,” I asked.
“Mentioned lots of girls, but they only had one name—bitches.”
“Any idea where Shulman might be living?”
Broome shrugged. “Probably with one of his loser friends. He looked like he worked out a lot. You might try the gyms.”
After talking with Shulman’s brother who said he kicked Jeremy out of his house two months earlier for using drugs, we stopped by a workout club in Lynnwood but no one there had heard of our suspect. We then had lunch at a Subway, where Charlie announced he was back on his diet. We both ordered one of their low calorie specials and a diet drink, before heading over to the coroner’s office to talk to Brie Henner. We found my friend with a stack of paperwork on her desk, sitting across from Gooch and Glade.
“Welcome to the house of death,” Kyle Gooch said as we walked into Brie’s office.
“They stab ‘em and the doctor slab’s ‘em,” Glade offered.
Brie smiled, her brow furrowing. “Something like that.”
I had no doubt that my friend had already had her fill of the dynamic duo. I asked Charlie to fill the brothers in on what we’d learned about Jeremy Shulman while I met with Brie.
“It’s pretty much as we discussed yesterday with one exception,” Brie began, after putting on a pair of rhinestone accented reading glasses. She was still wearing a pair of surgical scrubs but looked beautiful, as always. “Strangulation. Based on the tissue samples, the ligature marks appear smooth. There was no evidence of fiber or other contaminants found in the area. My best guess is that some kind of electrical cord was used.”
“What about drugs?” I asked, thinking about Lydia Ramirez saying that Shulman got her daughter hooked on drugs.
“Tox screen was clear. No alcohol, nothing.”
I wasn’t sure that was a good thing—Juanita being stone cold sober during her final hours. If the victim’s mother was able to find Jeremy Shulman before the police did I was sure she’d make good on her threats.
“And the exception that you mentioned earlier?” I asked.
Brie’s features hardened, her lips thinning. “Juanita Ramirez was sexually assaulted.” I saw something in her eyes, maybe an emotion that she was keeping at bay. “A foreign object was used.”
“Do we know what…”
“It was left in her vaginal cavity, Kate. The bastard used some kind of tool and left part of it inside her.” Brie opened an evidence envelope and tipped the contents onto a paper blotter on her desk. “It looks like something that might have been attached to a tool, maybe an electric drill.”
I used a pen and examined what looked like the remnant of a cutting tool. It was probably an inch in diameter with a serrated edge. I took out my phone and photographed it, thinking about Jeremy Shulman and how his former boss said he’d stolen tools from the company. Maybe this was part of what had been taken.
“I’ll make some inquiries, see if we can get a name for whatever this is,” I said.
Brie pushed the object back into the envelope. She heaved a sigh, removed her glasses, and shook out her hair. “I talked to Joe last night.” I nodded, waiting. “He admitted to the affair.”
I reached across the desk and took her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“It was going on for about two months but he claims it’s over.”
“Do you believe him?”
“No…well, maybe now that I…” She pushed back in her chair, her eyes turning inward. “I don’t think I know what to believe, Kate.”
“I understand.”
She swept her dark hair behind her ears, looked at me. “If this had happened before Lily was born it would be a no-brainer. I’d kick Joe so far down the road that you’d never find him.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Now, I’m not so sure about what to do.”
“Maybe you need a little time to sort through things.” I thought about Jack again. “Take my advice and don’t rush to judgment. When the time is right you’ll know what to do.”
“Maybe…” She shook her head and took a moment, holding back her tears. “I’m probably going to need a friend to lean on. Maybe we can have lunch in a day or two.”
I came around the desk and hugged her. “I’m here for you, sweetheart. Always.”
A few minutes later I met up the Charlie and the brothers in an empty office and went over the autopsy results, explaining
what Brie had found. There was a moment of silence after I showed them a picture of the object removed from Juanita Ramirez’s body.
We had no idea how long our victim had endured her torture but that didn’t matter. What did matter was that a young girl’s life had been mercilessly taken in a way that was unimaginably cruel.
After a long moment Kyle Gooch looked at his partner, his features dark and serious. “This is as ugly as it gets. I’m taking this one personally.”
Glade looked at me. “Give us everything you’ve got on Jeremy Shulman. We’re going to string the bastard up by his balls.”
I put my phone back in my purse. “You’d better hurry before Juanita Sanchez’s mother beats you to it.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I left the station and spent the rest of the afternoon at a training session with Bernie, some of the department’s other canine officers, and their dogs. It was a routine part of keeping the handlers and dogs sharp, involving drills, potential suspect scenarios, and the use of verbal and hand signals. It felt good, probably for both of us, to get in a little physical exercise and, for me, to forget about the events of the past few days.
When Bernie and I got home, I heard a woman’s voice with a Russian accent in the family room. I found Natalie and Mo with the guest speaker for their upcoming class.
Natalie introduced me to Dr. Ludmilla Pushkin. The doctor was a tall woman with shoulder length blonde hair, big features, and a dress that was a little too tight for her figure. She was what came to my mind when someone mentioned a woman being of hardy stock.
I took a seat on the sofa next to Natalie as Dr. Ludmilla sat across from us with Mo and began discussing her upcoming class segment. “I am think-ink about having a live sex demon-strat-shun. Somethink the audience will be remembering. ”
Natalie leaned forward and clapped her hands. “You mean like one of them lap dances where guys pay a wad of loot to have a naked girl do the bump and shuffle all over ‘em.”
“I can probably get a girl for the demonstration,” Mo offered. She laughed, then added, “Finding a guy shouldn’t be much of a problem, either.”
“We must be choose-ink carefully,” the doctor said. “The college will not be allow-ink us to have nud-it-tee. We cannot be stupid heads about this.”
“It’s hard to have a sex show unless you got some naked people,” Mo said. She looked at me. “Kate here’s an expert on perverts. Maybe she’s got an idea.”
I gave them a blank look or maybe it was my know-it-all pervert-expert look. “There are laws that limit what you can do in public. I’m sure the university also has their standards.” I again regretted my decision to teach a segment of the class.
“Maybe we could show some dirty flicks,” Natalie suggested to Dr. Ludmilla. “I could hand out bags of popcorn while you lecture about different sex techniques.”
The doctor shook her head. “That is no good.” She looked around the room, then back at Natalie, “Your sig-neef-e-cant other. Is he here?”
“Tex?” Natalie said. “He’s at work. Not sure he’d be good with a live sex show, though. He’s a wild one but keeps it in the bedroom.”
“No. I am think-ink I could work with him on some-think electronic.”
“You mean like robots or somethin’,” Mo said. “I’m not sure people are gonna wanna watch robots screw.”
Dr. Ludmilla stood, stretching out her sturdy frame. “Have your man call me,” she said to Natalie. “We will be come-ink up with a plan together. He seems like a big smarty-pants.”
“You’ll be doing your segment right after Kate,” Natalie said, walking the doctor to the door as we followed to say our goodbyes. “She’s going to talk about sex and violence, give the low down on all the nasties the pervs in Hollywood do.”
Dr. Ludmilla paused at the door and looked at me. “Perhaps you will be find-ink my segment of the class instruct-teev to you. We will see.”
After she was gone, I turned to the others. “What the hell did she mean by that?”
“Who knows,” Natalie said. “Ludmilla’s a creative genius. We’ll just have to see what she comes up with.”
“Maybe she’ll have Kate doing the dirty deed with a robot,” Mo suggested after we all took seats back in the family room.
“I’d pay to see that,” Natalie offered.
I looked at them both and said, “I’m not having sex with inanimate or animate objects, including human beings.” I sighed. “If fact, I might never have sex again.”
“We’d better get Ludmilla back in here,” Natalie said. “Kate needs some serious therapy.”
“What about that Hamlin guy?” Mo asked Natalie. “Isn’t he supposed to be attending the class?”
“He promised me that he was coming,” Natalie said. She then looked at me. “It should give you two a chance to get to know one another better.”
I said, “Yes, we can have a friendly little chat while watching robotic sex or some other perverted segment of the class. It’s the perfect way to get to know a guy.”
“You’re having attitude issues,” Mo said. “You do need to get laid.”
I exhaled. “You’re probably right—about my attitude, I mean. Had a long day.”
“Speaking of long days,” Mo said. “I spent some time with a couple of former working girls, talking about johns and stuff. I mentioned that Ryan Cooper guy who whacked your birth mom. I told ‘em Cooper worked as a markup artist and I got the name of a girl who went to work over at the studios. I went by and had a little chat with her.”
“What studio does she work for?”
“Northridge. It’s one of the smaller, independent companies.” Natalie brought over a bottle of wine and some glasses from the kitchen as Mo continued. “The girl’s name is Joanie Hutchins. She’s a secretary there but wants to eventually break into the acting business.”
“Did she know Cooper?” I asked, accepting a glass of wine.
Mo nodded. “I took that mug shot you had on the counter with me.” Cooper’s DMV printout was over five years old and I wasn’t even sure if he looked the same. Mo continued, “She recognized the guy but said he went by the name, John Felton. He’s been working there doing makeup for the soaps, but she hasn’t seen him for a few days.”
I felt my adrenaline spiking. “Does she have any idea where he lives, or know anything else about him?”
Mo shook her head, examined her blue nail polish. “Fraid not, but it’s a lead. Thought baby sis and me could go by, do a little more snoop’n tomorrow.”
“I don’t want…”
Natalie was off her feet, spilling her wine. “Let’s go undercover, Mo, pretend we’re actresses. Put the hurt on the bag of dirt.”
I stood up. “Listen to me, both of you. Ryan Cooper is a dangerous killer. You can’t just go over to the studio and confront him.”
“Why not?” Mo said. “We’re trained experts. We’ll be careful.”
“Besides,” Natalie said. “If there’s any real shenanigans, we’ll call you right after we collar the bastard.”
***
When I arrived at the station the next morning, Charlie was on his computer. I’d had another sleepless night after arguing with Natalie and Mo about not confronting Ryan Cooper if they found him. My friends had reluctantly agreed to contact me right away if they learned anything, only after I threatened to pull the plug on my segment of their class if they refused. But the more I thought about the class and whatever Ludmilla Pushkin might have in mind for her segment, the more I wished I’d gone ahead and cancelled.
“What do you think about Angie Johnson,” Charlie said, tilting his computer screen over in my direction as I sat down. “I think she might be my type.”
I studied the image of the woman he had up on the screen. She looked like she was about forty, with pouty lips and raven hair. Then I realized my partner was on one of those Internet dating sites.
“Hook-Up-Happy,” I said, reading from the screen. “Angie looks like she
could be your daughter.”
“Everybody on these dating sites uses pictures from when they were younger,” Charlie grumbled, his cheeks flushing. “She’s probably got a few bags and wrinkles by now, but who doesn’t?”
“Speak for yourself.” Bernie let out a little whine, maybe agreeing with me, as he settled on the floor next to me. “This must mean that things didn’t go well with Wilma last night.”
My partner found what looked like a peanut butter sandwich on his desk, took a bite, and sounded something like Nana without her dentures when he spoke. “She wants her space. I told her that I’d give her as much space as she wanted, like in the rest of her life.”
“Maybe she just needs some time to think through your relationship?”
“She’s got all the time in the world now.” He slid a photograph across the desk to me. “I’m thinking about using this for the dating site.”
I was unable to keep from laughing as I examined the photograph of a much younger, considerably happier version of my partner. “Was this taken in high school?”
“No.” He snatched the photograph from my hand. “It was a few years after I graduated from the police academy. I think it shows my best side.”
“I have a feeling when you show up for your date Angie’s going to wonder where your son is.”
My partner was taking offense at my comments when Lieutenant Edna called us into a team meeting. After we’d assembled in the conference room I saw that the brothers where already there. Our boss seemed irritated by them, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table.
“Let’s update everyone on what we know about the Juanita Sanchez case,” Edna said, looking across the way at the brothers.
“Ten-four, big boss,” Gooch said. “We took photographs of the object removed from our victim over to Taylor Sheetmetal. The foreman confirmed that it’s a tool with a diamond blade, used for cutting everything from sheet metal to granite.”