Two Graves (A Kesle City Homicide Novel)

by Graystone, D. A.

  “Is that, uh…?” Flem said, pointing at one of the pictures.

  “It is. The shrinks figure the killer wanted the victim to be dirty. Hart was beaten, as though the killer wanted to inflict injury on the victim. For whatever reasons, and the shrinks have a handful of reasons, they figure that the killer wanted to punish this latest victim by making her dirty.”

  Flem shook his head. “It’s all beyond me. Still, you figure that the killer might have seen the shooter?”

  “If our timing is right, there’s no doubt. He would have had a front row seat for the actual killing. They were standing in full view of the stairwell. ME is also of the opinion he was interrupted and did not complete his tasks. We think the hit was the interruption. My guess, he saw the shooter up close and personal.”

  “Perfect. The only good witness I have is a psycho. I’ll need an office and a line plus a desk for one of my squad,” Flem demanded.

  “You could have mine, sir,” Mann offered quickly. “It’s quite small, though.”

  Livermore spoke up. “We’ve got a larger office toward the back. It would give you more privacy, sir.”

  Flem stood and shook hands with Livermore. “That will do nicely. I’ll be moved in by the end of the day. Thank you, Captain. Lieutenant, I’ll have more questions for you later.”

  Flem left with an air of dismissal. Mann fought the urge to flick him the finger.

  “Art got some blood in the feces. Same blood type as the Yeck kill,” Mann said once Flem was gone.

  “Art has sent it up to Lifecode Corp for a DNA match. At least once we find him, we’ll have enough to hang him.”

  “But we still have to find him,” Livermore said.

  Chapter 52

  Dear Mr. Lewery,

  As I sit watching you sip your double latte, I wonder at your abilities as an investigative reporter. In fact, I wonder how you fooled me all these years into thinking you have any intelligence at all.

  I admit I am doing a dirty job but it is necessary for the survival of the human race. We must rid society of these bullies and tyrants. A person does a good turn for someone and what does he get in return? Shunned, laughed at, ridiculed, spurned, despised, lied to, and beaten. We try to make the world a better place because it is the right thing to do and what is the result? “Nice guys finish last.” Or sometimes the nice guys don’t even get to play. Ignored, never chosen.

  But now the game is mine. I make the rules. I choose the players. I choose the winner. And I choose me. Now is my time. Time for the dodge ball champions to duck because I have the ball and I don’t miss. For every welt that seared my skin, I make a cut. And believe me, the first cut isn’t the deepest, it is just the beginning of the pain.

  So I continue. Not as the mad psycho that you portray but as a true knight, prepared to do what is necessary to save the kingdom. Salute me or become my enemy.

  Sit and sip your double latte and consider your position. Understand who the real victim is, lest you become a victim yourself.

  Yours sincerely,

  A suspicious friend and victim who has refused to take it anymore…from anyone. The time of vengeance is at hand.

  PS: I thought about sending you a finger to help you type or an ear so you could learn to listen but I figured a momma’s boy like you would prefer a nipple.

  “Can you believe that?” Lewery asked. “The little coward has been following me! Following ME!”

  Munro watched Lewery. Full of bluster that might fool the others in the room, Munro could see the edge of fear that tinged all that bravado. And the round, desiccated bit of skin had given the reporter a definite greenish tinge.

  “I think we should put some men on Dale just to cover our bases. If he is following him…”

  “No way,” Lewery interrupted Mann. “No chance I am going to have a couple of your guys following me around all the time. I got a right to some privacy.”

  Mann looked at Lewery and saw some actual fear in his eyes that wasn’t there when the serial killer was threatening him. Mann wondered what Lewery was worried might get exposed. Mann flashed again on the idea that Lewery could be the killer. It wasn’t unusual, especially for showier killers to interject themselves into the investigation. And, what better way to get close than to be the sole contact with the killer? Mann had even entertained the idea that Lewery was doing the killing to increase his readership. More readers could earn him a lucrative book deal. But Lewery had been quietly checked out and the detectives had found easily confirmed alibis for two of the killings.

  But was he meeting with the killer in secret? Did he have more contact than they thought? Was it all a ruse to build his writing credentials? A threatened reporter would certainly sell more copies when the inevitable book was written.

  Mann knew that he could easily make a case for making Lewery a person of interest but the Mayor’s office would have a fit if they found out. Still he had to put him under surveillance of some sort. It was too good an opportunity to miss.

  “So, you’re going to print?”

  “Damn right,” Dale said. “And he truly is nuts if he expects me to roll over. This guy needs me way more than I need him.”

  Mann wasn’t too sure about that.

  Chapter 53

  He patiently removed all the pictures from the small binder and spread them around the floor of the living room. Finished, he sat cross legged on the floor and stared down at the array of pictures.

  Several moments passed before he was satisfied with the arrangement. He picked out four of the computer simulated pictures and set them across the top of the arrangement.

  He picked up a wide, black Magic Marker, ready to draw an X through each of these four pictures.

  But they are still out there, aren’t they?

  Preston paused, the cap in one hand and the marker poised over the first picture.

  They are still out there.

  He felt a delicious hardening in his groin as he realized he might have the opportunity to kill them all over again. He carefully put the cap back on the marker and set it aside.

  Taking a deep breath, he slipped on gloves and checked his equipment.

  He had been busy modifying several of his sport coats. They had ridiculed him for his sewing skills. Now, he was using those same skills against them. He needed to have all his tools with him at all times. Sheila had taught him that.

  You almost let her get away.

  He showed her, though.

  You cut her up good. But you still didn’t do the slut.

  I couldn’t when she was covered in shit.

  You should have done her first. They are going to call you a fag again. They’ll say you can’t get it up with a woman.

  I just forgot. Besides, there was no time with that other guy getting shot.

  But they won’t be calling me a masturbator after I take care of Millership. Finally, the truth will come out.

  He pulled up both pant legs of his special outfit for tonight and slipped a knife into each of the sheaths strapped to his calves. The knives were hidden, difficult to retrieve but they weren’t for emergencies. They were for later.

  A length of nylon cord with some sort of plastic coating was coiled tight and put in an inside pocket. It was very fine rope but unbelievably strong. Technology made his job so easy. A loop at each end made it even easier.

  He had added two special additions for this time. He had sown a thin pocket into the lining of his overalls. An ice pick slid easily into the pocket and disappeared from sight. It was instantly available for him though. Last, he put a small box of pins into his pocket.

  He had been waiting patiently, prepared to go at a moment’s notice. Tonight was supposed to be the night.

  *

  Dear Mr. Lewery,

  Although you continue to ignore my warnings, I still want to have some faith in you.

  You will find out soon that not everyone is as innocent as you think. My next target is a liar and pervert whose sickness touc
hes everyone he knows. I alone know the truth of his crimes but soon the world will know. YOU will know. Soon, my latest target will know that he cannot hide from me. He cannot hide from the world. His perversions will finally be known and I will be vindicated. You will have proof of what he is.

  They think themselves invincible, untouchable. Nothing could be farther from the truth. The guilty will pay and I am the collection officer.

  Don’t miss my message. Make sure you print it. Tell the world the truth and it will set you free.

  The alternative is to join them. And my enemies pay with their lives. Don’t be my enemy, Dale. I don’t want to be your enemy because I make war on my enemies. And this is a war you cannot win.

  Yours sincerely,

  A still-suspicious friend and victim who has refused to take it anymore…from anyone.

  PS: I know the police will read my letter so I add this for them. Can those bullies protect their own and stop me in time? Warm and wet he will come forth but a missing pair of hands might let him fall. While he makes the bald man cry, I will bring his secret to the world. Save him if you can so the young will not fall.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dale said, putting the letter down. “Now he’s challenging us with riddles? This is almost too perfect but what does it mean?”

  “Warm and wet,” Munro said. “How does the guy get warm and wet? Blood maybe? But it sounds more like the guy is going to be warm and wet before the murder.”

  “A swimmer!” Dale said, snapping his fingers. “The next victim is a swimmer! He’s going to kill a swimmer.”

  “Are there any competitions in the city right now?” Munro asked, picking up the phone. He dialed an extension and tapped his pencil impatiently as he waited for the line to be answered. “It’s Munro on the City Desk. Are there any swimming competitions going on right now?”

  Munro listened and made a couple notes. “Thanks,” he said, hanging up.

  “Well?” asked Dale.

  “There’s a meet at the University. It’s got something to do with Olympic trials or something.”

  “But what about the hands thing? Swimmers don’t fall, they drown.”

  “I don’t know but it’s the best I can think of right now. Maybe a coach? Maybe Mann’s guys will come up with something more.”

  Chapter 54

  The smoke swirled past the lights and hovered in the air like the English countryside in an old black and white movie. The movement of the tall waitress or an open door twisted it into small whirlwinds. Then quickly settled in the heavy air until the next disturbance sent them dancing across the room. Tobacco smoke was not allowed but the customers ended up coughing up a lung just so the lights looked cool.

  The waitress stopped at his table, bringing a burst of perfume. He let her scent settle over him before he shook his head. She shrugged and moved off. He watched her ass move under the tight jeans. He had been watching her move around the room for over two hours. Two hours of putting up with this God awful band and watching his next target.

  Targets, they were targets. The newspapers and television called them victims but that was bullshit. They were anything but victims. They preyed on the victims. They created the victims.

  They were scum that deserved to be eliminated. Lewery had better get with the program or he was going to learn first hand what these victims had endured.

  Deliberately, he released his hand from around his glass. Every time he thought about the media, he got angry. He had tried to make them understand. He needed them to know the truth. Why had Lewery turned against him?

  When he looked up again, he panicked. Where had he gone? He wasn’t at the same table, eating his wings and watching the band. Then, he saw him. He was standing at the end of the bar. He was getting his credit card back from the bartender.

  “This it, George?” asked the bartender.

  “Doctor says so. Guess I’d better get on my horse.”

  “Did you get the hospital room changed over?” the bartender asked.

  “No, thank you very much. Here, give this to Suzanne,” Logan said, motioning to the lead singer. “I might as well make her night and let her know that the company is going to represent the band.”

  “Oh, man. She is going to go nuts. Thanks George.”

  He watched him leave the bar. He didn’t hurry after him. They did that in the movies. One man leaves and then someone rushes after him. Everyone remembers. And memorable people get caught. Besides, he knew exactly where Logan was going. He had plenty of time. He would finish his drink and then casually leave. Nobody would remember him. Nobody ever did.

  Chapter 55

  Degget shoved the hanger over so he could look at the next suit. Arnie might be right about these SOCU guys all wearing three piece suits but their taste was for shit. And they weren’t selling out cops for money to buy clothes. Everything was cheap fabric, off the rack crap. Nothing tailored. A few nice things that were likely presents but definitely no big money on clothes.

  He moved over to the wife’s side and saw the same thing. A bit better quality but none of the clothing was above the pay grade. No furs. No expensive jewelry unless they keep it locked up somewhere else and nothing on fingers or ears that amounted to squat.

  Degget checked his watch. He figured he had at least another hour but wanted to finish up in twenty minutes to be sure. He moved downstairs to the den and rifled through files. Things were organized better than the last one he had gone through but it still didn’t give him anything. He was halfway through the squad with nothing to show for it.

  If you look at anyone hard enough, you would find something bent. Downloading bootleg movies, some kinky sex, drinking, drugs, affairs and gambling but nothing that made Degget suspicious of any of the squad. Everybody had the same bills, pretty much the same outstanding amounts on their credit cards. No cars, boats or big toys that he couldn’t find sales slips for that didn’t have corresponding debt attached to it. No big cash outlays.

  He opened the laptop on the desk and tapped a key with his gloved hands. The screen slowly glowed to life and Degget looked at the list of programs. He opened up the banking program. He shook his head when the program loaded without asking for a password. God, cops were stupid when it came to computer crime. He looked over the register, seeing nothing. He clicked on the credit card entries, glad to see they downloaded their statements every month. All the cards ran below the limit but they never paid them off. And most of the charges were for groceries, gas, movies, meals out – everything that a guy would spend unreported cash on.

  He spent another five minutes going over the laptop, checking emails, browser history and any picture files that might show some hidden cottage or boat. All the vacations were just your basic family trips and few and far between.

  Wandering through the house, he inventoried everything he could see. Big screen TV but everybody had one of those nowadays. They had the usual spoiled kids with lots of toys but nothing out of line.

  Once again, all he found was lots and lots of nothing. Seven suspects down and six more to go. He thought he should feel dirty going through the personal lives of fellow cops. But he was still convinced that one of them had almost killed him. He just had to prove which one and that made everybody a suspect and fair game. Glancing at his watch again, he decided it was time to go.

  Moving toward the back of the house, Degget took one last look around to be sure that he had everything back in place. At the door, he slipped his little booties off his shoes. Breaking in had been disgustingly easy. You would have thought cops would be more careful. Only one of them had an alarm system on their home – although two had stickers on the windows but no actual service – something that fooled only the amateurs.

  Mentally he crossed another of the detectives off his list. He was quickly running out of suspects.

  Chapter 56

  George Logan stretched his tired shoulders and yawned. He leaned forward and looked down the hallway. The clock on the wall
said it was ten past three. There was a clock in each hallway. He wished he had the contract to sell clocks to hospitals. Whoever did was making a fortune.

  He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. His mind was ricocheting from one inane subject to another. He should have been exhausted and yet he was wide awake. He considered going home and dismissed that thought immediately. He would just wander around the apartment until daybreak when he would return to the hospital.

  He should be with his wife. But his cheap company’s insurance only covers a quad room. He was being silly but those curtains gave no privacy. And the first night he spent with his new son should be private. He didn’t want to share those quiet first night time moments and words with anyone but his new family.

  He had tried to make a change in the room assignments. He had complained about it to everyone who would listen, including hospital staff, his boss, the guys at the bar and anybody in the waiting room. But no amount of complaining got anything changed. Besides, he had a lifetime of nights with his family. He could wait one more night to make a really special night.

  He stood and left the small waiting area, beginning the same circuit he had taken three times already. He desperately needed to find a john because the closest one was under repair.

  It was even quieter than his last walk. He hadn’t met a single person so far. With no distractions, his mind wandered back to his new family.

  His wife had been so good. After the weeks in the hospital, the baby had just popped out with no problem at all. He was going to be a big one, just like his father. His Father. God, he was a dad.