Killer Curriculum

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Killer Curriculum Page 11

by Douglas Alexander


  “But we are extremely happy you could join us on such a night. I’m sure the evening out of your home will do you some good,” Daniel added.

  Aimee seemed to come alive in the attention from the brothers. “Thank you very much, Mr. O’Connell.” She batted her eyes.

  Yet, Kara noticed that while Aimee seemed to flirt, she was actually intimidated by the daunting pair. Instead of leaning in, like most sexually interested women, she took a step backward.

  “You both have been very kind to my husband and I,” Aimee purred, but Kara could see the drink in her hands shaking and a few glistening drops formed in the corners of her eyes.

  Aimee looked like she was in real pain, and Kara wanted to hear more, but the conversation was interrupted.

  “The generous O’Connell Brothers,” a woman’s voice cut in. “I’ve just been telling Mr. Booker here what fantastic hosts you are.” Rebecca Vance came strutting up, arm-in-arm with the professor. All eyes should have fallen on the author, but instead, each person, in turn, glared at Booker.

  “Miss Vance,” Daniel began, tearing his gaze from the professor, “we are delighted that you have chosen the Lucky Roll Gaming and Event Center to hold your launch party for the new book.”

  Daniel was good at promoting the place; it sounded like he was shooting a commercial for the casino. He turned to Aimee, who was still nervously glancing at Booker while downing another champagne flute. “Have you met Mrs. Glazer? Her husband worked for us until his recent… um, departure.” He faltered slightly, as if not knowing quite how to phrase the violent act.

  Shamus nodded in approval. “Mrs. Glazer is our special guest tonight.”

  “Besides you, of course, and your wonderful novel, Miss Vance,” Timmy O’Connell added as he sought to gain the group’s attention. Kara hadn’t even noticed him. It must have been easy to be overshadowed in the presence of the two oldest brothers. “We should focus on happier things on such a wonderful night.”

  Shamus pushed Timmy to the side, as Rebecca seemed confused as to who he was.

  “I’m sorry. This is our baby brother Timmy,” Daniel explained quickly, staring down the younger man. “He sometimes gets too excited and forgets his place. Especially when star-struck.”

  “Oh, I’m hardly a star,” Rebecca said. She sounded modest, but Kara noticed the woman preening under the attention and grimaced as the older woman arched her back and pouted her lips.

  Rebecca’s face turned into a frown, but Kara thought it was nothing but pretense. She appeared to be thinking for a moment and then asked, “Recent departure? Do you mean to say that Mr. Glazer was the man who was killed earlier this week? I read about it in the paper this afternoon.” Rebecca looked at the wobbly widow for the first time. “I am so sorry, sweetie. You must be devastated.”

  The widow’s eyes had gone from teary to glassy as the booze began to kick in. “He was a piece of shit anyway,” Aimee slurred. “This was the only job he ever held for more than a few days.”

  Kara noticed that Rebecca’s posture had changed. Both she and Booker wore the same expression of interest, as if they were each taking mental notes.

  “You’re pretty!” Aimee exclaimed, holding out a hand for Rebecca to shake. As the author took a repulsed step back, Aimee stumbled forward. Shamus caught her with his large arm. He signaled to a dark-suited security guard.

  “Mrs. Glazer why don’t you let Brent help you out.” Daniel offered as the thick-necked security man guided her out of the crowd. “I’m sure the shock is still a lot for her to accept,” the spokesman of the O’Connell brothers added apologetically.

  “The poor woman. I mean, she just lost her husband. Have they found the person responsible?” Rebecca asked.

  Daniel began, “Well, your date here is certainly—”

  “The Berksville PD is making headway,” Sarah interrupted, stepping into the conversation. She handed Booker his cane. “Your stick.”

  Rebecca looked from Booker to Sarah and back again. August’s face remained placid, but the fiery detective obviously had more to say. “Detective Rime, are you heading up the investigation?” Rebecca asked.

  “I am. And we are confident we will solve the case in an expedient manner.” Sarah was practicing her press conference voice.

  Daniel chimed in, “As I was trying to say before, the detective and Professor Booker have already questioned us and our staff here at The Lucky Roll.” He said it as if being part of a murder investigation was an extra accommodation that the venue had to offer.

  “The professor?” Rebecca looked surprised. “August, are you back with the bureau?” She lit up as she said the words.

  “No, not at all,” Booker answered calmly but firmly. “I’m just doing a favor for the local police captain. I’m offering an extra pair of eyes. Primarily, my involvement, such as it is, allows me to expose my students to the real-world application of Criminology theories.” He nodded toward Sarah. “Detective Rime is the real leader here. And she has things well in hand.”

  “I started to get offended August. The thought that you would return to the job without me,” Rebecca smacked his arm flirtatiously.

  Sarah didn’t realize that Rebecca Vance was still interested in law enforcement. “I thought you retired from the FBI Miss Vance?”

  “Well, I did, but only because it just wasn’t as much fun without August.” She hadn’t let go of his arm, but now turned to face him while continuing to answer Sarah. “We were a team, and after he left, it just wasn’t the same.”

  “I didn’t really have a choice,” Booker motioned to his leg and tapped his cane.

  “Nonsense!” Vance retorted and looked to Sarah. “Did you know the FBI was willing to give this man a medical waiver to stay on the job? That’s almost unheard of.” She shook her head disapprovingly at the professor. “That’s how good he was. Best damned profiler…”

  “Deductive analyst,” Booker corrected her. “Profiling isn’t useful unless you can identify and utilize evidence to prove your theory.”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes. I’ve heard it a thousand times.” She looked around cautiously to see if anyone was listening in on their group. Seemingly satisfied, she asked Sarah, “Is it true the murder is like the Puppet Master?”

  Sarah’s eyes widened in surprise and horror that someone would have heard such a thing. She looked at Booker, who was analyzing Rebecca, and then at the O’Connell brothers who seemed to be hearing this for the first time. “Why would you think that?” Sarah asked, innocently.

  Booker spoke up. “Becky, you know better than anyone that Samuel King is dead. You saw him die.”

  “I didn’t say it was King, but some of my media connections say that you had body pieces connected with wire. Sounds familiar to me.” She shook her head. “I hope they didn’t get any ideas from my book.”

  Shamus, who was normally a silent, threatening presence, spoke up. “You mean there might be a frickin’ serial killer in Berksville?” He looked at his brother, who also seemed concerned.

  Daniel said, “Shamus is right to be worried. That’s not so great for business, to be honest.”

  “No one has said any of the kind. Moreover, the Berksville PD will deny any such talk.” Sarah added authoritatively. “We are still following up on a number of different leads.” She cursed as she nervously tried to rest her hand where her gun normally would sit on her hip, only to find her hand slide down the silky hip of her dress.

  “Well, anything we can do, just ask,” Daniel said to Sarah and Booker. His again silent brother nodded in agreement.

  “We appreciate it, gentleman, but as the detective said, everything seems to be under control. At best this is a second rate killer,” Booker added.

  Daniel took the hint. “Excellent! In that case, we have a book to launch!” He stepped in and offered his arm to Rebecca. “Miss Vance, if you would do me the honor.” She took his arm and they headed towards the front of the room where there were banners and mult
iple copies of Seattle Slayer, the book being honored.

  Shamus turned to the youngest brother. “Don’t you have things to do Timmy?” And gave him a Get the hell outta my face glare.

  The rest of the night flew by. Rebecca did a quick reading from a part of her book, based off on The Puget Sound Killer. Booker rolled his eyes and shook his head at close to half the information. Apparently, Miss Vance liked to embellish quite a bit for dramatic effect. The case bore little resemblance to the facts he remembered.

  After the reading, she signed books for many of the fans who had attended. Booker noticed that Daniel O’Connell asked for one to be signed for Aimee, who had long since been taken home. It was a sweet gesture, Booker thought. Maybe too sweet.

  After the book signing, Daniel ushered the group down to the gaming area to enjoy the hospitality of The Lucky Roll. At that point, Booker and Sarah rounded up their group and headed out.

  ***

  Later that night, Sarah hit the digital alarm clock on the hotel nightstand. She opened one eye to check the time. 4:30 AM flashed in obnoxious green lights.

  Then the ring sounded again. As she slammed her hand down a second time, the thought occurred to her. That’s not the alarm clock.

  Sarah swung her legs out of bed and fumbled on the floor for her jeans. After one more ring, she found her cellphone in one of the pockets. “Rime.” She answered, still half asleep, in a voice not quite her own.

  “Detective?” The deep voice on the other end asked. Sarah recognized it as Sergeant Blue.

  “Yeah Blue, what is it?”

  “We’ve got another body…” the sergeant paused. “Or at least pieces of one.”

  Chapter 14- Déjà Vu

  The sun was barely peaking over the horizon, scattering purple, pink, and orange across the eastern sky, as Sarah pulled her bike into the parking lot at Berksville Elementary School. The flashing lights of squad cars directed her around back of the school to the playground. Oh God, she thought, please don’t be a child.

  After parking, officers pointed Sarah to the line of yellow caution tape surrounding some of the equipment. Ducking under, she found a grotesque menagerie of body parts dangling from a wire from the monkey bars. She covered her mouth and nose for a brief moment to stop herself from gagging. She hadn’t lost it at the first scene; she wouldn’t do it here, either.

  A silk handkerchief was offered in front of her. “Here, just in case,” Booker whispered.

  “Thanks. What are you doing here?” Sarah asked as she took the cloth gratefully.

  “I was checking for tracks. Unfortunately, the playground is adjacent to the blacktop,” he pointed. “Anyone could have driven up and offloaded the body without leaving much of a trail.” Booker was still looking at the ground.

  “That’s not what I meant, but it is helpful,” Sarah said before quickly raising the handkerchief back to her mouth.

  She looked up to see Captain Harrison striding toward them, looking grim. “I called him,” he said gruffly. “Some people, like the professor, answer the first time I call. And I figured he’s in this deep already. He won’t stop now.”

  She ignored the jab and leaned in to take a closer look at the slowly spinning parts. She was relieved to see they seemed too big. “Not a child,” she stated as she put a glove on.

  “No, definitely not,” Booker agreed. “As a matter of fact, I think we can identify the victim here on the scene.”

  “Finally, someone around here who has some damned answers,” Harrison said. The dark-skinned commander stuffed his hands in the pockets of his BPD windbreaker.

  Sarah looked at the professor. “How the hell do you come by that? I can barely tell what used to go where.”

  Booker lifted his cane and pointed to the backside of one of the tied bundles of flesh. Sarah looked closer to see a very distinct design of blue colored sequins.

  “Son of a bitch. It’s Aimee Glazer,” Sarah groaned, taking a stepped back. Booker nodded in agreement.

  “How in the world?” Captain Harrison was hard-pressed to hide the fact that he was impressed.

  Sarah replied. “We saw her just last night at Rebecca Vance’s book launch at The Lucky Roll. She was wearing a trashy blue sequin dress, just like that scrap of fabric.”

  “We’ll need forensics to verify both the DNA and the fabric,” the professor chimed in, “but it’s a pretty solid bet. That’s her.”

  “I can hopefully help with that.” Two still-silent officers held up the yellow police tape as Grace, the coroner, stepped in with a bag in each hand and two assistants, carrying gear like pack mules.

  “It looks like this is a lot fresher crime scene,” Grace said. “We might get lucky.”

  The medical examiner stopped an arm from spinning and held it in a gloved hand. “Quick estimate, judging by pallor and lividity, I’d say she’s been dead, maybe four to six hours. I can give a better time of death after a few tests.”

  “Thanks, Grace.” Sarah felt motion sick, as different limbs casually spun in a four-foot arc. The arms were tied higher than the legs, circling a head and two pieces that may have been her chest and hips. It was a mockery of the human form suspended by wire.

  Needing a distraction, Sarah turned her attention to Booker, trying to regain focus. He was dressed, once again, in an elegant three-piece suit. When he reached to run his fingers through the graying hair over his temples, cufflinks glittered in the growing daylight.

  She looked down at herself in contrast; disheveled hair (which she immediately tied in a ponytail), t-shirt and jeans, boots, and of course her leather jacket, which had seen better days. She motioned to his whole outfit with a grand, over exaggerated gesture. “Really? At…” she quickly checked her phone, “five thirty in the morning? How the hell are you so put together?”

  Booker laughed and modestly looked down at the silver and gold handle of his cane. “Well, if you’re going to do anything, you should always do it well. That includes dressing.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you have a lot of people to impress out here on the playground at the crack of dawn?” She didn’t wait for a response, it was clearly rhetorical.

  The professor looked once again at the gruesome scene, snapping pictures with his cellphone.

  “Are you kidding me?” Sarah scolded once again. “Are you seriously posting this to your social media accounts?”

  Booker kept snapping shots. “My students aren’t here. I need some accurate pictures of the scene. No offense, but that guy over there,” he pointed to the overweight guy holding a camera on one hip, as he smoked a cigarette, “his pictures of the last scene left a lot to be desired.”

  The crime scene photographer’s eyes narrowed as if he knew they were talking about him. Booker covered quickly, “Hey Charlie! You still going to take the Santa photos at the mall this year?” Looking relieved, Charlie gave a quick smile and thumbs up motion, then went back to his smoke.

  Sarah tried to hide her chuckle. “You know him?”

  Leaning in, Booker said, “Of course, everyone does. He’s the only photographer in town. Santa, Easter Bunny, weddings, and senior portraits. The kind where the kids hold their heads on their hands... and of course, crime scenes. Not that there have been that many.”

  Right, Sarah thought. Sleepy town. Easy job. More time for personal growth. Maybe even a boyfriend. That’s what I signed up for. She tried not to look back at Aimee’s remains.

  “That’s Charlie,” Booker continued, cutting through her thoughts. “Did you think the Berksville PD had a budget for a full-time crime scene photographer?” He grinned and slipped his phone into his pocket after one last snap.

  The captain walked back over. “I can’t keep the media off this forever,” Harrison said in a low voice. He looked tired, not just early morning tired, but exhausted dealing with the responsibilities of command. “And I can’t wait until the mayor hears we have another body.”

  Harrison rubbed his dark hand over his eyes. Sarah didn
’t envy the political expectations and restrictions he must deal with in his position. He could be gruff sometimes, but she could tell he wasn’t a heartless bureaucrat who wanted a murder solved merely to help his political career.

  “One shocking murder is bad enough, but multiples? Are we dealing with a serial killer here?” Harrison furrowed his brow.

  Sarah opened her mouth, but Booker was quicker to answer. “I don’t think so, Captain. I’ve seen many serial killers in my career, and this feels all wrong.” Sarah was going to interject, but by the customary tapping of his cane, she could already tell Booker was just pausing to contemplate.

  While his somewhat eccentric methods and know-it-all attitude irritated her, one of the traits Booker possessed that Sarah did admire was his tendency to think things out before running his mouth. His eyes always seemed to be ten minutes ahead of his mouth. It reminded her of some of the master chess players that she used to see on her walking beat through the community park back in the city.

  “And to be honest,” Booker continued. “The perpetrator may have just made a big mistake.” His cane sunk a little in the early morning mud as he walked around the group of technicians attempting to bag up the body, such as it was. “You see up until now they have been trying to pass themselves off as Samuel King, or at least a decent representative.” Booker seemed almost excited, which contrasted the scene in front of them.

  “He’s done a pretty damn good job if you ask me.” Harrison scowled, unapprovingly.

  “That, Captain, is where you’re wrong. Samuel King always was careful to choose random victims to seem as if by chance. None of his victims had connections to one another or him. He was an extremely methodical killer. He never would have been sloppy enough to kill a man and then a week later kill their spouse.” Booker obviously was well versed in the criminal mind.

 

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