Speaking for the Dead

by Bill Craig

  “Says who?” Carrington asked arrogantly.

  “Two of your co-workers. Are you telling us they both lied?” Moseby asked.

  “I want a lawyer!” Carrington said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Him wanting to lawyer up is not good,” Captain Stanley said as Moseby walked into the observation room outside interrogation.

  “No, it isn’t. But it also tells me he is lying about the two young women he was running with last night. As soon as he heard we were looking at him for those is when he clammed up,” Moseby replied.

  “You going to let him have his phone call?” Stanley asked.

  “Not yet. First I need to get Ramirez in here to see if he matches the guy that put the bomb on Lucy’s car.”

  “Good idea. But since he asked for the lawyer you really can’t ask him any more questions until he has counsel present.”

  “I know that, Cap. You forget I’ve been at this a while.”

  “I never forget anything, Detective,” the Captain replied.

  “I know that too. Can you get Ramirez in here?”

  “I’ll go call him now,” Captain Stanley replied, heading out of the room. Moseby looked over at Lucy French as she sipped from a cup of coffee.

  “You think he matches up with your car bomber?” Moseby asked her.

  “I don’t know,” she shook her head.

  “What is your impression of this guy?” Moseby asked.

  “I don’t think he’s our killer.”

  “Why not?”

  “The look on his face when you asked him about the two missing women. He acted surprised like he didn’t know that they had gone missing.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yep, so we are back to square one.”

  “What about Markland and Burch?”

  “I think we need to take a closer look at both of them.”

  He hummed The Lion Sleeps tonight as he drove the stolen van to Doug Carrington’s house. He had been surprised when the cops had come to his house, but it was all part of the game. Misdirection was what made it worth playing. He had decided to add a clue to Carly’s body before wrapping her in plastic so that he could move her body. It was dark out now, and he knew that the dark-colored panel van would blend in on any street that he drove down, becoming almost invisible under the street lights.

  He pulled up to the curb in front of Carrington’s small house. There were few streetlights on this particular street. Carrington’s house was in one of the dark zones. He shut off the engine and climbed out of the van, moving quickly to the back of it and opening the doors. He reached in and grabbed the plastic with gloved hands, pulling it out of the back of the van. She thudded to the street. He dragged her up onto the lawn and began unrolling the plastic until her nude body lay on the green grass.

  He wadded up the plastic and shoved it into the back of the van and shut the doors. Then he climbed back in the driver’s seat, shut the door, put the van in gear and drove away, leaving Carly Matthews dead body on Douglas Carrington’s lawn. When he was three miles away, he picked up the burner phone that he had bought that morning and dialed 911.

  “I was driving through a neighborhood and I saw a naked woman laying on the lawn in front of some guy’s house,” he said. He then gave the address and hung up. Then he threw the phone out the window into the street, watching it shatter and then be run over by a car in the other lane. Now it was time for him to go home and have some fun with Tara. Dear sweet, rude, Tara! He smiled at the thought.

  “He’s not your bomber,” Mario Ramirez said after looking at Doug Carrington through the one-way glass.

  “You’re sure?” Moseby asked.

  “He’s not tall enough. Your bomber was at least four inches taller,” Mario replied.

  “Dammit!” Lucy French snarled.

  “It is what it is,” Mario eyed her.

  “I know, Mario. I’m not mad at you,” Lucy told him.

  “Uh, Detectives, we just got a call that you might want to take,” Mary Dishman, one of the night dispatchers said as she poked her head into the room.

  “What is it, Mary?” Moseby asked.

  “A nude woman on the lawn of the house where the guy you have in the box lives,” Mary told him.

  “Text me the address,” Moseby said as he and Lucy headed out the door.

  “Will do,” Mary said as she scurried back to the dispatch office to get the address.

  Forty-five minutes later, Moseby and French were standing over another dead body. This one belonging to one Carly Matthews. The words bad friends had been carved into her breasts.

  “What do you think that means?” Lucy asked, looking over at Moseby.

  “I wish I knew,” Moseby told her.

  “Why is this guy wanting to point the finger at Carrington do you think?” Lucy asked.

  “A rival maybe? Obviously, he wants Carrington to take some kind of fall. The big question is why?”

  “Yeah it is.”

  “You think that Carrington and he were after the same woman?”

  “Could be,” French replied.

  “That actually does make some kind of sense,” Moseby told her.

  “So who won?”

  “If I had to guess, I would say Carrington.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “It does.”

  “So where does that leave us?”

  “At the moment, back at square one. We need to let Carrington call his lawyer and then lay it out for them and see what the Lawyer will make him tell us.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “I thought so.”

  Jason Burch walked into the mini-art and bought a case of water and some over-roasted Turkey. The cops coming to his house bothered him. He wondered if they had bothered talking to Markland as well. He hated Doug Carrington. The guy was a total asshole. Markland wasn’t much better. Jason paid for his purchases and carried the bags back out to his car.

  From what the police had indicated, they seemed to think Sunny had been killed by a serial killer. He shook his head, finding it hard to imagine. Sure she was pretty, but she was a royal bitch. He couldn’t imagine a killer being interested in her at all. He put the bags into the back seat of his car and climbed in and drove home.

  “I want every door knocked on tonight. Find out if anybody saw anything before the body was discovered,” Moseby told the six patrol guys.

  “Every door? Some of these people aren’t going to like being woke up, Sarge,” one of the patrolmen said.

  “Well, that is certainly too bad, Patrolman. Do you want to be the one to tell this young woman’s family that you only did a half-assed canvas of the block because you didn’t want to bother people who might have seen who dumped her here?” Moseby’s voice cracked like a whip and the uniform flinch back like he had been struck a physical blow.

  “No Sir,” he replied meekly and then hurried off to go start knocking on doors.

  “You were a little rough on him, weren’t you?” Lucy asked.

  “This is this killer’s third victim this week. No, I wasn’t,” Moseby replied.

  “So what now?” Lucy asked.

  “Now we let the CSI’s collect evidence, and once Lisa Blair gets here to take possession of the body, we go back to the station and find out what exactly Doug Carrington was hiding.”

  “You think you’ll be able to will get him to talk?”

  “Oh yeah, I do. Finding out that Carly was dumped on his lawn with that message is going to get him talking like there is no tomorrow. Because we are going to make it sound like for him there won’t be.”

  “You have an evil mind, Partner.”

  “One of us has to,” Moseby shrugged.

  Thunder rumbled in the night sky above. Lightning could be seen flashing intermittently in the clouds. A storm was coming, but that didn’t bother him. Tonight he would begin having his fun with Tara Sweet. Fun and his oh too sweet revenge on the rude Miss Sweet!

  The storm seemed a
lmost like an omen to him. A confirmation that he had found the path for which he had always been destined for. He had always been different, even as a child growing up. He had been able to hide it from his parents. But Linda Gavin had caught his cutting up that cat and threatened to tell on him. He couldn’t have her telling. So he had pushed her down the hill into the creek. And then he had held her face under water until she stopped moving.

  He had run to a neighbor’s house and told them that he saw her face down in the creek and the police were called. He had lied to the detectives, said he had tried to pull her out but she had been too heavy. Everyone in the neighborhood had called him a hero. None of them realized the truth. He had made sure that no one had ever found out.

  Doug Carrington was going nuts sitting in the interrogation room. His lawyer still hadn’t shown up, though he had called an hour beforehand. He was getting worried. Where had the two detectives gone to? Had they found out that he had gone running with Carly and Tara last night? It seemed like he had been ratted out about that by someone on his team at work. And now both of them were missing. Why? Did somebody have it in for him? He put both hands to his face and felt tears spill from his eyes and run down his cheeks. If they tied him to these murders, he would die, even though he hadn’t done it. Florida still had the death penalty. He lay his head down on the desk and wept.

  “Sorry it took us a bit, Mr. Carrington, but we’ve had a break in the case,” Moseby said as he walked into the interrogation room with Lucy on his heels. Carrington picked his head up off the desk. His eyes were red and his cheeks were tear –stained.

  “A break?” Carrington asked, looking shocked.

  “Carly Matthews has turned up,” Moseby said.

  “That’s great. What did she have to say?”

  “Not much. She was dead. She was on your front lawn and had the words bad friends carved into her chest. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Carrington shook his head.

  “Why would she be dumped on your front lawn, Doug?” Moseby asked.

  “I don’t know, Detective,” Carrington sighed.

  “Who were you fucking at work, Douglas?” Lucy French asked. Carrington’s face went pale.

  “You think that’s what this is about?” he looked at them both.

  “It could be,” Moseby said softly.

  “So it is time for you to start talking something other than bullshit, Douglas,” French told him.

  “Okay. I slept with Sunny, and I was working on Tara Sweet. I went running with her and Carly the night before last. But they were both alive and well when I left them at the park,” Carrington sobbed.

  “What park was that?” French asked.

  “The Al Lopez Park Trails. I run there a lot.”

  “What about Tara and Carly?”

  “I guess so; it was where Tara said for us to meet up. She and Carly came in her car, and I drove in mine,” Carrington said.

  “Did you see them leave?” Moseby asked him.

  “No, I left before them. They were still outside their car when I pulled out of the parking lot.”

  “Oddly enough, Doug, I believe you,” Lucy French said.

  “I’m telling the truth,” Carrington said.

  “Did you see anyone else while you were running?”

  “There was one guy behind us, but he turned back before we did.”

  “Could he have been lurking in the parking area when you all got back?”

  “There were a bunch of cars in the parking area, so sure.”

  “You are free to go, Doug, but don’t leave town,” Moseby told him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “What do you think?” Lucy looked at Moseby.

  “I think he’s scared to death that he’s going to be charged,” Moseby replied.

  “But you don’t buy him as our killer?”

  “No, but I do buy him as a cock hound. He’d fuck anything that would hold still for him.”

  “That’s the read I got on him as well. He’s scared shitless at the idea of going to jail.”

  “That is why I’m sure he’s not our killer. The guy that killed those women thinks that he’s too smart to be caught.”

  “That’s the way I read it too. Also, there is no way he’s got the smarts to rig a bomb to my car.”

  “Nope, he doesn’t. Not even if he looked up how online.”

  “So where does that leave us?”

  “Not a whole lot further along that where we were before Carly turned up dead on Doug’s lawn. He’s still got Tara so the clock is ticking,” Moseby sighed.

  “What about Markland and Burch? Both of them were lying to us about something, and Burch did point us at Carrington,” Lucy said.

  “Yes, he did. That seemed kind of funny.”

  “Plus as far out as his place is, he could probably take a body in and out without anybody noticing. Except his car was awfully small.”

  “But there was a big garage out back that could hold a larger vehicle and maybe a chamber of horrors,” Moseby said.

  “You think it is worth taking a second look at?” Lucy asked.

  “How quick can you type up an application for a warrant and find a judge to sign it?”

  “Give me half an hour.”

  “Get it done. I’ll go get us some real coffee,” Moseby told her and turned and headed back towards the elevator. Lucy took off at a fast walk towards the squad room.

  He stood in the center of the living room of Carly Matthews’s apartment and looked around. The only light in the place came in from the streetlights outside. It was enough. He wanted to make sure that there was nothing there that might inadvertently lead the cops back to him. He needed to know if Carly kept a diary that she might have perhaps mentioned him in at some point. He moved into the hall and headed towards the bedroom. He slipped the night vision device he had purchased at Wal-Mart out of his coat pocket and settled it over his head and turned it on. He could see as if it were daylight, even if everything did have a greenish tint to it.

  There was very little ambient light in the bedroom but the Night Vision Goggles did there job and he could walk around the room easily. He had donned latex gloves before entering the apartment so he wouldn’t leave fingerprints. He began pulling open drawers and going through them.

  There was nothing of interest in the dresser so he moved to the nightstands on each side of the full-size bed. He started with the bottom drawers and worked his way up. He found the diary in the top drawer. It was a girly looking affair complete with the little lock. He smiled to himself. The little lock was easy enough to defeat. He didn’t have time to read it here. No, that little gem would have to wait until he got back to his place. He looked at his watch, checking the time. He figured he might have maybe twenty minutes on the outside before the cops showed up to start going through her apartment. He knew that Carly had been found by now.

  He took a quick turn around the rest of the apartment and grabbed her laptop as well. Then he removed the NVG’s and stuffed them back into his pocket before slipping out of the apartment and heading down the street at a fast walk.

  It was time to head home and relax a bit. Some beer and some fun with Tara, who by this time should be awake. Yes, it was time to have some fun and teach that rude little bitch a lesson that she would never forget!

  “You got the warrant yet?” Moseby asked as he sat the Styrofoam cup of coffee down on Lucy French’s desk.

  “I am waiting for them to be faxed back from the judge,” Lucy grinned up at him.

  “Them?”

  “I wrote warrants for both residences. I figured if we didn’t turn anything up at one, you’d want to go ahead and move on the other one. I figured having a warrant in hand would save time,” Lucy grinned.

  “Smart girl. I’m glad you’re my partner, Lucy,” Moseby smiled at her.

  “Aw don’t go getting sentimental on me, Moseby. It gives me gas,” she replied.

  “We don’t need
that for the ride out to Burch’s place. Your silent but deadly farts could clear an autopsy theater.”

  “Like your’s couldn’t?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

  The Fax machine beeped at that point and they both walked over to see the printouts of the warrants signed by Judge Wilson come in. Moseby grabbed them both and they headed for the door.

  Tara sweet opened her eyes. She was cold, and her ankles hurt like she had injured them. Her memory was fuzzy. The last thing she could recall was that guy coming up to them in the park after their run. He had said something and then everything afterward was blank. She tried to sit up, but she couldn’t. Why was that? She looked down at herself and saw that she was naked.

  What the hell? She tried to verbalize it, but it came out as a croak. Her mouth was very dry. She licked her lips and realized that they were dry and chapped. What the hell was going on? She shook her head, trying to make the fog go away, except it didn’t. Tara tried moving her legs and pain exploded upwards from her ankles. What the hell had happened to her? Who had done this? She wished she knew. She tried to scream but only croaked. Her mouth and throat were too dry. She tried to swallow, but there wasn’t even enough spit for that. Was she dehydrated? It would certainly explain a lot.

  She turned her head to the right and saw a television screen. It was turned on. She squinted, trying to make it out. There was a naked woman lying on a table. She looked at the face. It was Carly. She felt the blood drain from her face as she watched a man with a mask climb on top of Carly and rape her. She screamed as she saw what he did to her next. She screamed until she was too hoarse to make a sound…

  It was raining harder as they made the drive back out to where Jason Burch lived. Ramirez and Morales were following them. Both detectives had been in and Captain Stanley had okayed them going along to serve the search warrant. The Slasher murders had top priority at the moment. The fact that a third victim had turned up just an hour before had moved it to the top of the heap.