Murder By Association: A Stanford Carter Prequel (Stanford Carter Murder Mystery Book 2)

by Gary Starta

  Shock swung his right arm around. His right hand held a scalpel. Shock’s left arm was engaged in the successful imprisonment of Jill Seacrest.

  Carter had only a split instant to react. Gut instinct would prevail today. There was no more time for scientific analysis. Good and evil had become a game of inches. Carter fired a shot. It exploded into the left arm of Andrew Shock. The impact knocked him back into a cabinet. The clanking of glasses and silverware chimed in unison. It was as if the dinnerware had been converted into church bells. Jill managed to roll away from Shock’s grasp as the din subsided. All she could tell Carter right now was that she was fine. Carter knew she was. She was a survivor if he had ever seen one.

  Unfortunately for Shock, Stanford Carter was in the mood for some conversation.

  He couldn’t resist reprimanding his former colleague. “I’m well aware that love hurts, Andrew. But guess what? I’m betting that prison is going to hurt a whole lot more.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I need to come back.”

  Carter knew exactly what she meant. Her job was as much a part of her as her flesh and blood. Maybe more. It gave him yet another reason to adore her. And because he did adore her, Carter hesitated to say yes to CSI Jill Seacrest. He had strongly suggested she take a personal leave after her ordeal with Shock.

  “I think three days was plenty of time for me to recover, Stanford. If it wasn’t, I should seriously consider submitting my resignation.”

  No. No. Don’t do that. Carter forced himself not to blurt the words aloud. It would have certainly devitalized his boss/employee relationship with Jill. If he pleaded with her, she would know how deeply he cared for her. He took comfort that their conversation was on a cell phone. He hoped she couldn’t hear the loud patter of his heart via satellite.

  “Okay, Jill. You can come back tomorrow.” Carter wondered if he had already compromised their boss/employee relationship months ago. They had referred to each other by their first name since day one. It was as if they both sensed a need to dispense with at least some modicum of formality during Jill’s training. Carter recalled staring into her eyes for just a fraction too long the day they met. She probably knows all about my feelings for her. She’s a CSI, after all.

  Carter continued after a pause. “I’ll assign you to a hit and run case. It’s in Dorchester. You’ll need to process a school parking lot.” Well at least I’m not putting her in the direct path of danger again.

  “Tony has a blood sample of our victim. I’d like you to completely scour the area for transfer. Contact all the students who had assigned parking spaces in the vicinity if necessary. I want a thorough examination of all their cars. Hopefully none of them had the sense to go to a carwash. My gut tells me you’re going to match the vic’s blood to one of them, Jill.”

  “Sounds like a daunting job. Maybe I should reconsider.” Jill laughed, easing some of Carter’s reservations.

  Three hours later, Carter awoke to another phone call. This one was far less pleasant.

  * * *

  “Someone’s at it again, Carter. Same modus operandi, they used a knife to pierce her heart. We’ve got uniforms securing the area for you.”

  Mayor Schroeder’s voice boomed over Carter’s cell. Schroeder seemed like a big, overbearing dog to Carter. He barked his words, panted heavily between pauses and stuck his nose in areas he had no business in. Why the police commissioner stood for his interference was beyond Carter. He was too groggy to argue. It was two a.m.

  Carter sipped water to relieve his dry throat, parched from air conditioning.

  “I want you and your new M.E. to secure the crime scene.”

  “Certainly, Mayor.”

  “And then, you will release it to the FBI. I’ve got the best agents in the nation in flight as we speak. You will turn the investigation over to them and give them full access to your crime lab. Do you understand, Carter?”

  Carter knew the Mayor all too well. Schroeder couldn’t resist baiting him into a fight. Carter began to recite a Zen chant in his head. He chose to elicit an unspoken verbal response. Okay, Mayor. I’ll let the bureau take over. But you didn’t say I couldn’t participate in the investigation.

  Schroeder, obviously flabbergasted by Carter’s placidness, hurried to end the call. “The crime scene is on Arch Street. Be there ASAP.”

  * * *

  Carter found the department’s new medical examiner, Robert Lee Shirley hunched over the body. Shirley spoke with a Georgian drawl, wore dirty blond hair in a ponytail and sported glasses with thick, black frames. Yet it wasn’t just his physical appearance that differed so much from Shock, his demeanor was entirely different as well. Shirley actually still managed to seem appalled at the butchery he witnessed, more sensitive to the victim. His latex wrapped hand cradled the woman’s head, preventing it from touching the pavement. Shirley surmised the victim was in her mid-twenties and probably homeless. She wore cut off blue jeans and a dirty T-shirt. Shirley cocked her head sideways towards Carter.

  “I see some abrasions here on her right cheek. She probably put up a struggle.” He pointed with his eyes to her hand. “She has one defensive wound on her palm. She took three wounds to the chest area. I’d say the killer was either very unskilled with a knife, or the vic put up one helluva fight. You know, you Yankees should learn to control your rage. I never saw women carved up like this back in Georgia, ‘cept when they were caught in a lover’s triangle. How could someone build up so much rage if this wasn’t a crime of passion, Detective?”

  “Good question Doc.” Carter shuffled his feet and peered around the perimeter of the crime scene tape. Carter began to speak into a recorder.

  “We have no tarot cards here. So at first glance, it appears to be copycat–someone not privy to inside information. The woman obviously had no money or jewelry to offer. The uniforms told me she was carrying a wallet in her back pocket, still containing seven one-dollar bills but no I.D. Mr. Shirley, how long has she been gone?”

  “I can give you an accurate time of death back at the lab. Right now I’d say she passed about an hour and half ago. I hope the Feds get here soon. The humidity must be ninety percent. It’s not going to be conducive to my autopsy.”

  “There’ll be here soon, Mr. Shirley. You know, I’m willing to bet the killer laid in wait for at least a few hours, looking for a stray. He got lucky. I’m going to see he doesn’t get lucky again.”

  “Amen.” Shirley said to no one in particular.

  From the corner of his eye, Carter spied a blue piece of fabric lying just beyond the Jane Doe and Shirley. Carter scooped the material into a zip lock container and dangled it before the medical examiner. “I don’t think she was wearing this. Maybe the killer did. She could have torn it off him in the struggle. Doc, can you see any fibers of this color embedded in her nails.”

  “Not in this light. I’ll have a full analysis for you…”

  “I know.” The two men finished the sentence in unison. “Back at the lab.”

  Shirley cited a need to retrieve more equipment from his vehicle. “I can’t really do much more here. I’m ready to release the body at anytime. Before he left the vic, Shirley laid her head on a blanket. Carter clicked off his mini tape recorder.

  He nodded and smiled until Shirley was out of sight. Anger began to well in the pit of his stomach. Where are these feds? If they don’t get here soon, it will be dawn and then we’ll be standing in the middle of a media circus.

  Deciding it would be best to calm his nerves, Carter knelt over the woman’s dead body. He began a chant, softly. Shirley turned his head towards the front of his vehicle, wondering if he had left the radio on. Headlights beamed towards Carter’s back as he hovered over the body. Carter remained focused, however, continuing to recite a prayer.

  Two agents burst from a gray sedan.

  “Slow down, Cat,” S
pecial Agent Geoffrey McAllister railed at his partner, now three full strides ahead of him. His thirty-three-old partner scooted beneath the crime tape, eager to see the body, seeming to pay no heed to his request. “Business as usual,” McAllister muttered under his breath. McAllister, quite used to his partner’s exuberance for her job, conceded taming Special Agent Caitlin Diggs was a lost cause a long time ago. Still, Diggs retained the highest conviction rate in the bureau despite her crude mannerisms and penchant for breaking protocol.

  Diggs paused to swing around, allowing McAllister to catch up to her.

  “I don’t respond to nicknames, Geoffrey. I like my name. It’s Caitlin, so stop shortening it.”

  For a moment, Geoffrey stood frozen, stunned into silence. Caitlin’s piercing blue, jewel like eyes bore through him. She waited another second to extend Geoffrey’s suffering. “Okay, I’m not that upset. But please promise me you’ll drop that habit. And by the way, no more off key singing in the car. If I hear you butcher another Zeppelin song, I’m going to scream.”

  Geoffrey’s icy stare told Diggs it was time to get down to business. Yet, the detective before them seemed to be in no rush whatsoever.

  He only rose from his haunches after finishing his recital.

  “Can I ask what you were doing, Detective?” Caitlin asked.

  McAllister intervened. “I’m Geoffrey McAllister. This is my partner, Caitlin Diggs.” Geoffrey often wondered if Agent Diggs equated curtness with independence. If she didn’t, she was in serious need of some manners. McAllister promised himself that Diggs would one day behave more like an FBI agent and less like an excited schoolgirl. He just needed some more time to influence his volatile partner who also happened to be the love of his life. Over the years, McAllister found himself wishing he could curb Diggs’ tendency for emotionalism. But today, the forty-year-old FBI veteran just sighed and raced to catch up with Diggs. Carter snapped off his gloves and smiled.

  “As for your question, Agent Diggs. I was just practicing some Zen meditation. I think it helps the vic. I sure know it helps me stomach what I’m seeing here.”

  “You suspect another serial, Detective?” Geoffrey asked.

  “The evidence needs to be examined, Agent. Yet, I can’t help feeling there’s an underlying motive. Don’t ask me why.”

  “I won’t,” Caitlin said to Carter. She paused as an awkward silence ensued.

  “Let me explain what I mean Detective Carter. I solve most of my cases by instinct. I think feelings are one of a detective’s most reliable tools. Agent McAllister might not admit this to anyone, but he often finds my feelings most helpful in solving cases. It’s why we have the highest conviction rate in the bureau.”

  McAllister suppressed a sigh in response to his partner’s candidness.

  Carter could see the two shared more than partnership. They both shared chemistry. He could feel it. He wondered if relationships were really possible. He wondered if one day he could reveal his feelings to Jill.

  “Can I see the evidence before it goes to the lab?” Diggs asked.

  “Sure.” Carter walked the agents towards Shirley’s Ford Explorer. The medical examiner begrudgingly reopened the trunk he had just shut.

  Diggs fixated on the blue chamois like material in a baggie.

  “If that’s transfer from the perp, the vic would have to be one strong woman. Could she have possibly summoned the strength to rip nylon and rayon? Carter suppressed a smile, realizing he and Diggs worked alike. They both often answered questions with another question. McAllister responded to Caitlin’s rhetorical query.

  “Her life was on the line. Anything is possible, Caitlin.” McAllister smiled. Diggs acknowledged she understood the hidden sarcasm in his words with her eyes. It was her we’ll talk about this later in private look. McAllister had lost track of how many times Diggs had implored him to keep an open mind.

  “Just keeping an open mind,” McAllister said for Carter’s benefit. “You see. I’m trying Agent Diggs.” To Carter, McAllister said. “Do you believe keeping an open mind is paramount to good detective work?”

  “I do indeed.” Carter’s response deflated some of McAllister’s glee. He expected Carter would have at least responded with a quizzical look. Great, she’s found a kindred spirit, McAllister told himself.

  Diggs seemed to be lost in a haze.

  “I’ve seen this material before. I was flipping through some pages on the city’s website during the flight. I believe there was a photo of the Mayor and his aides sporting these shirts. Yes, they were all wearing blue shirts with red lettering. I think it said something like, ‘375 Historic Years & Counting.”

  “Yes, it did Agent Diggs. All city employees received this shirt as part of the anniversary celebration. You must have a photogenic memory because you recited the exact inscription on the shirt. I have one at home. Now agents, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help your investigation.”

  “I expect you’ll be working alongside us,” McAllister said. “We may be in charge of the investigation, but this is still your turf and we’ll need your expertise. I’d like to begin the investigation by canvassing the area for witnesses. If you could give me some suggestions on where to begin that would be appreciated.” McAllister and Diggs turned in unison to head for their rental car. McAllister stopped suddenly to turn back towards Carter. “And by the way, you did put away two murderers so far. I just want to say Caitlin and I would be honored to work with you.”

  Carter smiled and waved goodbye, relieved to find two allies in what was fast becoming a concrete jungle.

  Chapter Fourteen

  At the recommendation of Detective Carter, Diggs and McAllister would begin their interviews at the Elephant and Castle. The Devonshire Street pub, located two blocks from the crime scene, it could have provided the killer safe haven prior to the murder. Diggs and McAllister concurred with Carter’s theory, that the perp might have attempted to blend in with the pub’s crowd, biding time before the kill. He or she most likely patronized the bar until closing time, waiting for the crowd to disperse. Then the perp took the streets, prowling for anybody who might be traveling alone.

  Diggs and McAllister had traveled in silence to the bar until Diggs blurted out a question. “Why does Mayor Schroeder harbor such resentment towards Carter?” McAllister offered no response to Diggs’ query. He pretended to be too busy, exerting all his focus on parallel parking.

  He scanned the street to make sure parking wasn’t prohibited. “Well, I don’t see any signs here. We should be good for an hour or so.” McAllister threw the sedan into park and killed the engine. GPS says the bar is a half block up, on the right.”

  “Why won’t you answer me, Geoffrey?”

  “I thought you were just throwing out a rhetorical question.”

  Diggs ignored McAllister’s feeble attempt at humor to continue theorizing. “Carter seems like a capable detective to me. I think this Mayor is really wound up about something. Why else would he be so adamant about the bureau taking over the investigation?”

  “I’m not sure where you’re going with your questioning, Cat…oops, I mean Caitlin.”

  “I think there may be more here than meets the eye.”

  “And can you back this theory up with any hard evidence?”

  “Don’t be smug, Geoffrey. The fact that Carter was replaced is evidence enough that there may be missing pieces to our puzzle.”

  “I’ve read the case reports. An ex-FBI agent was sent in to consult with Carter. He ended up getting killed. I just think the city’s stepping up the attack. If I were the Mayor I would do the same. He’s got to save face. It’s an election year, and Schroeder needs tourist dollars so he can substantiate his reelection bid. If these killings don’t stop, it’s going to hit the city hard. Revenue will be lost. Bringing in the FBI’s best was a logical decision.”

 
“You’re forgetting something else. Lives are also being lost.”

  “I’m not being callous Caitlin. But if you’re looking for some ulterior motive, I’m just saying you need look no farther than the almighty dollar.”

  “Agreed. And if that’s the case, then there may be a motive to this killing. We need to entertain the possibility that our suspect may not be a serial. He or she might have an agenda.”

  “Are you implying the Mayor may have some enemies? Just because the Mayor wants the FBI in charge of the case, doesn’t mean he has it out for Carter. He just needs to save face with the voters. I think he’s simply being proactive.”

  “I do see your point, Geoffrey. And I am certainly not suggesting Stanford Carter would take delight in the Mayor’s fiscal dilemmas. But maybe someone else would. Maybe someone does it have it out for the Mayor, or the city itself. We’ve got to keep an open mind on this.”

  McAllister nodded in agreement. The pair exited the car and began to walk towards the bar.

  “Caitlin, do you think the killer would be stupid enough to wear one of those city sweatshirts?”

  “I see you’re beginning to see things my way.” She chuckled softly.

  “If I’m going to keep a completely open mind, then there’s a possibility the material was planted there as well.”

  “Food for thought, Geoffrey. Speaking of food, let’s order some before we start our interrogations.”

  The agents enjoyed burgers and fries. Geoffrey always marveled at how Diggs could consume what he considered raw meat.