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

by Gary Starta

  “I hope you don’t get some bacterial virus, Caitlin. I think I see some blood dripping from your bun.”

  “As far as I know, the FBI has set no protocol for determining how we choose to eat meat.”

  Hopeless. Geoffrey could not describe his plight more accurately. No matter how many years they worked together, Geoffrey McAllister knew he would always play watchdog to Caitlin, forcing her to provide hard evidence to support her claims. Oddly enough, at the end of the day when all the evidence had been gathered, Caitlin’s theories were often supported by facts. He also knew he needed her as much as she needed him. They balanced each other. He sometimes wondered if Caitlin could have survived this many years as an FBI agent without his prudence. He never failed to wonder about his fate. Without Caitlin there to recharge his batteries, McAllister knew he probably would have quit the bureau by now. He could envision himself mired in a boring private detective job, spying on cheating spouses or investigating fraudulent insurance claims. He grasped Caitlin’s hand underneath the table. Diggs and McAllister loved each other even if there was no supporting evidence.

  The restaurant manager had been watching the agents during their meal. Dan Akins knew his regulars on a first name basis. He suspected the pair might be salespeople, out-of-towners, just passing through after an exhibition. They certainly looked the part. Diggs wore a plaid blazer vest. It complemented her cream colored shirt and a knee length black skirt in a business sort of way. McAllister wore a tan suit highlighted by an aqua colored shirt and maroon tie. Just last night, he had encountered a strange woman in his bar. Akins wanted to keep the hometown charm of his neighborhood establishment. He wanted everybody to know each other by name. It was good for business and because of this, he pried Diggs for information as she and Geoffrey paid the check.

  “Howdy folks. You’re first timers here, I take it?”

  “How’d you ever guess?” Diggs said.

  “Well, I know all the regulars here. Now, I hope you don’t think I’m strange but I sometimes play a little guessing game with newcomers. More often than not, I’m right too. My wife Rosie thinks I’m psychic. Now let me see.” Akins closed his eyes, cradling the two crisp twenty-dollar bills Diggs has placed into his palms. “Yes, it helps if I’m touching something of yours. I can see it. Yes, I bet you’re selling some wares at the Hynes Convention Center.”

  “Maybe you better brush up on your magic,” McAllister interrupted. Akins eyes flew open. The agents both displayed their badges and I.D.’s.”

  “If you know all the clientele so well sir, perhaps you can help our investigation.”

  “You’re investigating the killing, aren’t you?” Akins replied to Diggs. She nodded.

  “Well, last night there was a stranger in here. I asked her for her name. She told me she never kisses and tells. I thought she might be flirting so I persisted. But she became confrontational. Almost accusing me of being some kind of pervert. I left her alone from then on.”

  “And when did she leave your establishment?” McAllister asked.

  “At closing time. She ran up quite a bar bill. But she tipped well.”

  Diggs and McAllister nodded to each other, both acknowledging Carter’s assumption had been correct.

  Diggs asked for a full description. Akins provided a detailed composite making Diggs wonder if he wasn’t some kind of pervert after all. Akins described the unidentified patron as about five foot ten with wavy black hair, huge almond brown eyes with an olive complexion. “Yeah, she was a looker alright. If I wasn’t married I would have bought her a drink myself.” He paused to laugh but continued, finding not an ounce of humor on the agent’s faces. “She wore a black leather vest over a red T-shirt. Black jeans, black boots.”

  “Did she happen to carry a sweater with her?” Diggs asked.

  “No. I wouldn’t think so, not with this humidity and all.”

  “How did she pay? You said she was a good tipper,” McAllister asked.

  “In cash.” McAllister fought back a sigh. No way to track her by credit card.

  “Now, if that’s all. I’ve got to get back to work.”

  McAllister nodded, throwing a five-dollar bill onto the counter.

  As the agents exited, Akins muttered to himself.

  “She was a better tipper.”

  * * *

  He scrolled through some names on his computer. A hunch told him to start with the Mayor’s aides. Stanford Carter didn’t believe in coincidences. Agent Diggs had purposely mentioned the group photo. All the aides were wearing anniversary sweaters. Maybe this was an inside job. Carter believed a background check of the Mayor’s staff was in the best interests of the commonwealth. He would rather be sorry than safely avoid a government inspection and allow another murder to happen. However, he needed to work covertly. He could not alert the Mayor of his involvement in the investigation. Carter spent the better part of the day accessing public records on all the Mayor’s staff. He decided whatever he couldn’t find out via public record could be summoned through interviews. He planned to track down staff’s friends or relatives to minimize the risk of a one-on-one confrontation with either the aides themselves or Mayor Schroeder. Carter dismissed the first aide, Stu Kellogg. Kellogg, director of Human Services, was fast approaching retirement age. A photo depicted the man as frail and hunchbacked. The second name on Carters’ list held more promise. Yet the detective had to admit a female was less likely to commit such heinous crimes. Her name was Samantha Baxter. She had served several years as the Director of the Transportation Department. Internet searches revealed Baxter had vociferously applauded the expansion and upgrade of the MBTA, the city’s railway transit system. Baxter cited in a Boston Globe article that tunnels were in poor repair. She also cited a great need for public transportation to supersede the city’s dependence upon automobiles. ‘We have to stop the greenhouse effect. We have to preserve what we have.’

  Carter focused on the word, preserve.’ It sounds like Baxter is quite the conservationist - and also quite serious about her job. The question is just how ‘serious’ is she.

  Further research led Carter to Baxter’s sister, Mary Ann.

  “I’m not quite sure why you’re asking questions about my sister, Detective Carter. And I’m also quite sure she could answer any questions about her personal life much better than I can.”

  “I have to ask for your confidentiality, Mary Ann. We have reason to believe some city employees may be the target of a serial killer.” Carter hated lying, but deemed it to be the lesser evil.

  “Yes, I read about the latest murder. But the article said police believe the woman was homeless. She certainly didn’t work for the city.”

  “Mary Ann, I can’t go into detail. But we found something at the scene, which might suggest city employees are in danger. Now, I’m just trying to find out the killer’s motive at this point. I don’t want to go directly to city employees like your sister. It would only panic them. I trust you will help my investigation without tipping off your sister.”

  “Detective, we have a strained relationship. Samantha can be a very trying woman.”

  “Trying? In what way, please?”

  “She’s a conservationist. Our parents, god rest their souls, donated thousands to preserve open space. Their money helped keep over 300 acres of land in Allston undeveloped.”

  “I still don’t understand, Ms. Baxter.”

  “My parents donated all of our inheritance money to Allston’s Open Space Preservation Commission. Samantha didn’t take kindly to being left in debt. She depended upon an inheritance to help pay off her school loans. She dreamed of upgrading to a larger house. All those plans were dashed when the terms of our parent’s will was disclosed. She was beside herself. But she eventually pulled herself together, took a job at the Mayor’s office and devoted herself to her parent’s cause. She was adamant about making sure he
r parent’s contributions weren’t in vain. Then she became even more impossible. She demanded I leave my job to take up the cause as well. We had a fight. I haven’t really spoken to her since. The most we do is send cards at Christmastime.”

  “You’ve been a great help, Ms. Baxter.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Carter believed he had unearthed a motive. He found it in black and white, contained in microfiche. A long running series of articles had been written in the Boston Herald. The land Mary Ann Baxter had referred to in Allston was now in danger of being developed. A lawyer discovered a loophole in the agreement between the town and the landowners. The Allston Open Space Preservation Commission had used monies from people like the Baxter’s to pay the owner to agree to a conservation restriction. But according to the paper, the landowner had a change of heart. He was now balking at the agreement. Carter read the first lines of the latest story: ‘Enticed by an offer from an undisclosed developer, the landowner Phillip Keys now refuses to adhere to the conservation restrictions citing a technicality in the wording of the agreement. Petitioning the Planning Board, Keys is currently seeking approval to allow public access and egress to the property. A vote on the matter is scheduled within two weeks. Concerned citizens like Samantha Baxter, an aide to Mayor Schroeder, have petitioned the board, demanding they not allow the owner to rescind on an offer he made in good faith. The opponents to the project contend that if the landowner cannot win Planning Board approval, plans for development will most likely be terminated. He needs our approval to allow extensions of public roadways, Planning Board Chairman Arthur Simmons maintained. But we’ll need a good reason to deny his request. A traffic study had been commissioned by the board to help determine the feasibility of the project. A vote is scheduled in two weeks.’

  After Carter digested all this information, he began to wonder what kind of influence Mayor Schroeder might have upon the project. Carter failed to find any mention of the Mayor himself in relation to the controversial project. Yet Carter surmised Schroeder could use his influence to impact an outcome. Would Schroeder side with the landowner to generate tax revenue? If he did, he might make some enemies. He wondered if one of those enemies might be Samantha Baxter.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Medical Examiner Robert Lee Shirley grunted when Detective Carter entered the autopsy room.

  “Something on your mind, Mr. Shirley?”

  “I can’t ID our vic which leads me to believe she truly was a homeless person. No matches on her dental records came up. As a last resort, I am posting her picture on the Internet. I do know our victim wasn’t raped. I find no evidence of semen or vaginal abrasions.”

  Carter mused to himself. Our killer wanted to make this look like another ‘Plunger’ killing. He then stated aloud. “I think he or she messed up.”

  “Sir?”

  “All the other Plunger victims had some kind of relationship with the killer, even if it was brief. Am I supposed to believe a homeless woman jilted our killer?”

  Shirley, compelled to answer even a rhetorical question, shook his head. “I can’t tell you who the killer is, DNA wise. No traces of blood or skin transferred to the victim. That does seem unusual, especially if she was the one who tore the killer’s sweater. And there is no evidence of fibers under her nails.”

  “Do we have a timeline on the bruising to her face?”

  “I’m beginning to think the bruises and the cut on her hand occurred post mortem. I’ll run more tests to confirm.”

  “Doc, I’m beginning to think our victim put up no struggle at all.”

  Carter, was convinced the Jane Doe was not a victim of the serial killer. He excused himself from the room. Thoughts flooded his head. He had walked nearly all the way to his office with not a single memory of how he got there. Engaged in an alpha state, Carter replayed all the information Shirley had given him. There had been three attempts to pierce the vic’s heart. Supposing the killer was female, the vic might have engaged in conversation with her killer just prior to the killing. The killer, or more specifically―Samantha Baxter, might have even attempted to bond with the woman before surprising her with a knife. Maybe the killer offered a handout of money as evidenced by the dollar bills found in the Jane Doe’s wallet. If this were true, the Jane Doe would have been too depleted from the knife wounds to muster a fight for her life.

  Later that day Carter compared notes with the agents via telephone. It threw a monkey wrench in his theory.

  “Agent Diggs, are you sure your witness described the woman as five foot ten?”

  “Yes, he gave a detailed description. She did wear boots though. So maybe she was more like five foot nine.” Diggs completed the description. “She had wavy black hair and almond shaped brown eyes. Put up a tough persona, according to the barkeeper. She wore a leather vest.”

  “Agent Diggs I have been searching for a city employee who might have motive; someone who might not want to see the Mayor win his bid for reelection. Now I’m not sure if my suspect matches your description.”

  “I’d like to hear about it anyway,” Diggs asked.

  Carter described Samantha Baxter as five foot six with shoulder length brown hair and hazel eyes. He also supplied Diggs with Baxter’s motive.

  “Detective, she could have worn colored contacts. Maybe even changed her whole persona to fit the serial image. And who knows, maybe her boots did give her a bigger lift. I hope I don’t come off sexist, but I wouldn’t be surprised if our witness was mistaken. I think men see long hair, a nice body and start to imagine the woman as being larger than life, I think it’s some kind of fantasy gene they possess.”

  Carter could not suppress laughter. Agent Diggs certainly didn’t fit his bureau profile.

  McAllister, who had been listening to the conversation via speakerphone, suddenly intervened.

  “Detective Carter, I think we should alert the Mayor his life may be in danger. If this Baxter is the killer, she may eventually turn her rage against him. I’d like to apprise him of your findings. Although, I’m quite sorry I won’t be able to credit you.”

  “No problem at all, Agent McAllister. In fact, if I come within a hundred yards of the Mayor’s office he just might threaten me with a restraining order.”

  McAllister just had to laugh at Carter’s good nature.

  “I’ll schedule a visit with him, Detective. Thanks for the lead.”

  * * *

  Mayor Schroeder found McAllister’s theory ludicrous.

  “I bet Detective Carter gave you this dirt on Ms. Baxter. She’s been a loyal aide for nearly three years running. There’s never been a terse word between us. In fact, I admire the fight in her―she’s a conservationist at heart, she would do anything to preserve our ecosystem. Nobody’s going to tell me Samantha Baxter’s a killer.”

  “I think you brought up a key point, Mayor. You said she would do anything to preserve our ecosystem. Right now she’s attending meetings in Allston, fighting to keep open space from being developed. Can you tell me your feelings about this Allston land controversy? Have you ever discussed this with Ms. Baxter?”

  McAllister swore the room temperature dropped. Schroeder’s face blanched white. His piercing blue eyes lost the fire they held only a few seconds earlier. McAllister was sure he had triggered an emotion in Schroeder. He believed the very mention of the Allston land controversy was the catalyst.

  “The Planning Board is currently reviewing a traffic study. I trust they’ll make a wise decision.”

  “But Sir, you have been quite outspoken about conservation in the past. I’ve read some articles. I think you would oppose development of the land…unless you’ve had a change of heart?”

  “I don’t know what you’re getting at Agent. But I’ll have to ask you to leave. I’m grateful for your warning.”

  “By the way, Mayor. Where is Samantha Baxter? I see
her desk is vacant.”

  “She’s taking a few vacation days. Beach weather is approaching Agent. Maybe Samantha is catching a few rays. Anyway, I intend to keep the city safe for Samantha Baxter or whoever else might visit our fine city during this anniversary year. I hope you find the killer soon, Agent McAllister. Good day.”

  McAllister accepted defeat, not wanting to play his ace. The agent could have enlightened Schroeder about the blue fabric found at the scene, but he could not risk this fact being leaked to the press.

  McAllister did snoop around the office before leaving however. Something on the floor caught his attention. Rolled up in a ball, a Kleenex tissue sat just under the lip of a desk, adjacent to a wastebasket. The basket sat in close proximity to Samantha Baxter’s desk. Reasoning trash is in the public domain, Agent McAllister bagged the discarded tissue as evidence. As he peered inside the bag, he smiled at the black smudge marks the tissue carried. “This should make a nice set of prints.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Agent McAllister’s elation over the inked tissue had segued into desperation by the next morning. CSI Tony Gelder could only pull partial prints off it, leaving the agents no definitive link to connect Samantha Baxter with the latest killing.

  Rapping his fingers upon the rent-a-car’s steering wheel, Agent McAllister tried to contain his frustration. But his silence did not fool his intuitive partner. Agent Caitlin Diggs had clandestinely kept watch on McAllister’s body movements ever since they departed the hotel’s parking garage a half an hour ago. From the corner of her eye, Diggs observed in silence. McAllister bit his bottom lip for most of the ride. When he wasn’t doing that, he engaged in several pronounced sighs, all quite capable of inflating several party balloons. She finally broke the silence as McAllister steered the car into the crime lab parking lot.

  “We’re going to have to be more proactive if we want to catch Baxter, Geoffrey.”