“I think we need to go home and finish our research on Dawn.”
“But why? She’s dead.”
“That’s exactly why. I realized something while all the drama was going down out here. Dawn was the kind of person who used her sex appeal to get what she wanted. She manipulated Harry and Katz with sex. It’s unlikely they were the only ones. Maybe someone else’s wife did care. Or maybe someone got obsessed. Maybe trouble followed her here from somewhere else.”
Coffee and Speculation
“Should we really be doing this?” Don asked an hour later.
“Why do you ask?”
“I mean, isn’t this something the police should be doing? What if we get in trouble?”
“We’re not going to get in trouble for looking up things on the internet. It’s not like we’re hacking into private accounts or anything. Besides, you saw what happened with Helena Wilton’s trust fund. I’d say the police need all the help they can get.”
News of Dawn’s death hadn’t broken yet, and her internet presence was huge. She had her own website, promoting her services as an organizer. The website included an online archive of press clippings going back to the beginning of her career – the older ones scanned from newspaper copy. I recognized Harry in some of the pictures from her college days.
She had traveled all over the country protesting everything from animal testing to pesticides to urban sprawl. In her younger days she had been a bit of an eco-terrorist, but she seemed to have become more mainstream as she got older.
“I would think,” Don said, “that if it were a jilted lover or jealous spouse, it would have to be related to something recent. What do you think?”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“But, how do we figure this out? I mean, it’s not like she’s got a list on here of who she’s slept with.”
“I guess we look at the most recent events. You take the most recent and I’ll take the one before. We read what we can find, look for photos, see if any names or faces stand out. Like, with Harry, he was standing next to her in those pictures. See who’s standing with her in the latest ones.”
“It’s a place to start, I guess. Then what? See what we can find out about those guys?”
“Yeah. Names, screen names, message board memberships. That kind of thing.”
“An ‘I slept with Dawn Thrasher’ support group?”
“Seems like there ought to be one, doesn’t it?”
Don snorted and we got to work.
❧
Two hours later we hadn’t found anything useful and my stomach was growling.
“I’m going back to my place. I need to eat and get some studying done.”
“Okay. I’ll do a little more on this before I turn in. Compare notes in the morning?”
“Yeah. Not before eight, though.”
I made myself a sandwich and thought about Dawn Thrasher and Clarence Wilton. If Dawn was killed by a prior conquest, or a jealous lover, what was the connection to Wilton? If any? Wouldn’t it be too much of a coincidence for them to be killed within days of each other? Especially with them connected as they were. Weren’t cop shows always saying that there’s no such thing as coincidence? I wondered whether Petreski believed in coincidence.
Boo’s polite scratch came a little later than usual that night. Cats can’t tell time, so I didn’t give him a hard time about being late.
“Hey, Boo,” I greeted him. “Did you have a busy day, too?”
His answer was loud and sounded affirmative to me.
“Yeah. Lots of excitement for me today. You want some water?”
I put a bowl of water down for him and opened the window. It was late, so Raymond didn’t show up looking for seeds.
Boo sat on the toilet lid and watched while I brushed and flossed my teeth. I wondered whether the things humans did looked strange to the animals in our lives. Cats probably didn’t think about oral hygiene. I tried relaxing my mind, to see if I could pick up on Boo’s emotions or sensations like I had with Buttercup, but I got nothing. Maybe cats were different, or maybe I was just tired.
“Come on, Boo. Let’s go to bed.”
We sprawled together on the mattress and Boo stretched out so I could rub his tummy. I had heard cats didn’t like that, but Boo seemed to eat it up. We had already established, though, that Boo was not an ordinary cat.
“That scary lady got killed, Boo. Did I tell you about her? She’s the one who warned me about Josh Katz, and was asking me about Wilton’s dog. So weird, Boo.” I yawned. “Sorry, not much... for conversation today. G’night, Boo.”
I couldn’t help thinking there was something I was missing, some detail I was forgetting, but I was just too tired. It would come to me. Morning would be here soon enough; I’d think about it then.
❧
When Don knocked on my door at eight sharp the next morning, I already had coffee ready and my laptop was fired up. I’d been up since six after a peaceful night’s sleep. Maybe Jennifer Katz and Buttercup were sleeping soundly with new locks, or maybe Josh spent the night in jail. Murphy must be settling in with Tom. At least the dogs were worry-free.
“Did you find anything else?” I asked Don as I poured him a cup of coffee.
“No, not really. She’s either been behaving herself or been really discreet the last couple of years.”
“My money’s on discreet. I wish we knew more about her death. Like, when or where. Was she found in the bayou, too?”
“That doesn’t seem likely. I mean, when we found Wilton it was all over the message board and there were crowds. People were talking about it everywhere.”
“The message board!”
“I didn’t see anything about her, though.”
“No, but did anyone talk about seeing police cars, or the constable or anything like that? Anything at all about any kind of suspicious activity?”
“I’ll check again.”
While Don logged on to the message board, I went back to Dawn Thrasher’s site to see what I could find about her current project in The Heights. There was still nothing about her death on her website, which led me to believe she was a one-woman operation. Surely if she had partners they would have posted something.
“It was a quiet night. No one reported anything other than a car window smashed in Norhill.”
“She must not have been staying in The Heights, then. But somewhere that she could get here quickly. Maybe Montrose or Midtown. Is there a way to check their message boards?”
“I’ll find out. You see if you can figure out where she lives. I mean, are we assuming that she lived in Houston? Or that she came from out of town and was in some kind of rental or hotel?”
“Good question. I’ll see what I can find out.”
We both jumped when the downstairs doorbell rang.
“What the – ?”
“Who could that be?” I said. This was an old building – we didn’t have intercoms or buzzers to let someone in, just doorbells to let us know someone was here. I looked out the window and saw Petreski on the porch below. “Coming!” I called out to him and he looked up and waved.
“Who is it?” Don asked.
“Petreski. I’ll be right back.”
“I told you we were going to get in trouble!”
“If we’re in trouble it has nothing to do with this. Chill out.”
I jogged down the stairs to unlock the main door. “Hey...” I said as I let him in. “Wait... How did you get in the other night?”
“You’re just now worried about that?”
“Well, I was kind of distracted that evening.”
“I slipped in as one of your neighbors was going out.”
“What? They’re not supposed to do that!”
“I flashed my badge. Don’t worry about it.”
“Fine. Come on up. Don and I were... well, there’s coffee. What’s up?”
“Hi, Detective Petreski!” Don greeted him as we entered my apartment. Don was never
that perky. Way to be subtle.
“Uh, hi. Okay, what are you two up to?”
“Research,” I said, pouring coffee into a mug and handing it to him. “We were curious about Dawn Thrasher.”
“I should be upset, but y’all found out more about Helena Wilton in one day than my so-called expert analyst got in a week. So, spill.”
“Like I said yesterday – Dawn Thrasher used sex to manipulate men. She did it to Harry years ago. It looks like she probably did it with Josh. No way were those the only instances. So we got to thinking...”
“What if she’d done it with someone whose wife or girlfriend did care?” Don finished.
“Yeah. So we looked at her website, and she has really complete archives. We were trying to figure out whether it looked like she had used her wiles on anyone else recently.”
“Yeah. Or if there was anyone talking about her online, or obviously obsessed with her. You know, liking every post or comment she puts on Facebook, trying to start a flame war, that kind of thing.”
“Did you find anything?”
Don and I shook our heads.
“We just don’t have the kind of resources it takes,” Don said. “Besides, if someone was sending her private messages or emails, we’d have no way of knowing.”
“I’ll put Hastings on it.” Petreski pulled out his phone.
“Really?” I said.
“Oh yeah. He needs to redeem himself big time. This will be his chance.”
Don and I exchanged looks while Petreski dialed. I felt kind of sorry for Hastings. I went back into the kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee. A few minutes later I felt someone standing behind me. I knew it wasn’t Don. At least, I really hoped it wasn’t when I felt hands on my shoulders and a soft kiss was pressed against my temple.
“What was that for?” I asked. “And aren’t you supposed to be keeping your distance? And why did you come over here this morning?”
He sighed and leaned his forehead against the back of my head for a moment before stepping away. “Geez, you ask a lot of questions. First, it was because I wanted to. And I am keeping my distance, but since I’m here on official business – technically – and no one else is here but Don, I thought I might get away with it.”
I turned to face him. “Sorry. I’m just... worried, I guess. I just want this whole thing to be over with. I want life to be normal again.”
“Sorry, Jake, but I think that ship might have sailed.”
“Yeah. Well, I want to find my new normal, then.”
We stood there looking at each other for a minute while the coffee dripped. I wasn’t wondering whether he would be part of my new normal. Somehow I just knew.
When the coffee pot started to sputter I turned to pull it out and refill my mug. “More coffee, Don?” I called out.
“If you two can stop mooning over each other for a minute, that would be nice.”
“We’re not mooning,” I took the pot into the main room to refill Don’s mug. “But,” I turned back to Petreski, “why are you –technically – officially here?”
“To follow up on yesterday’s events at Ground Up.” Petreski unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat on the sofa. “Such as to ask you what you discussed with Jennifer Katz after we left.”
“What makes you think we discussed anything?” I put the pot back in the coffee maker and sat on the coffee table facing Don and Petreski.
“Because I left you both there knowing you wouldn’t be able not to talk to her.”
Don laughed.
“Yeah, okay. Her dog likes me, but doesn’t like Mr. Katz. Jennifer doesn’t like Mr. Katz much either, and was planning to go home and change all the locks. Do you know if he went home last night? Or did he spend the night in jail? I don’t like to think of him going home and not being able to get in – I could see him breaking down a door or smashing a window.”
“Mrs. Katz is perfectly safe. Mr. Katz is still in custody, but I don’t think we’ll be able to keep him much longer. We’re having trouble tying him to either of the murders. There’s just no physical evidence.”
“What about the knitting needles?” Don asked.
“We got a warrant last night and tested the needles this morning. Nothing.”
“So it was a waste of time.”
“No. It’s police work. It was a good hunch, and as a lead it made sense. It just didn’t pan out.
“I still can’t help thinking there’s something I know that I don’t know I know.”
“Huh?”
I turned to Don. “I was thinking that last night. There’s something niggling at the back of my brain. Something somebody said.”
Petreski shook his head. “It won’t come if you try to force it. You’ll wake up in the middle of the night, or it’ll come to you in the shower. Something like that.”
“I guess.”
We all sat, sipping our coffee and thinking.
“Why isn’t there anything about Dawn Thrasher’s murder in the news?” Don asked after a minute.
“Because...” he looked back and forth between us. “I swear to God, you tell anyone and I will never tell you anything else.” We nodded. “Because her body was found in her local apartment, by police who had gone there to question her. It was kept off the scanner.”
“It was you, wasn’t it?” I asked. “You found her.”
“Perez and, yeah, me. When she didn’t answer the door we tried the knob. It was unlocked so we went in. She was in the shower; the water was still running.”
“Was she stabbed? Like Wilton?”
“It looked like the same or a similar weapon, but there were multiple wounds.”
“Like in Psycho.” Don said.
“Don’t be morbid, dude.”
“No, I’m not. It’s like in that movie, though. Someone was able to sneak up on her because she couldn’t hear them, right? So it had to be someone who was watching her or knew her. Either she took a shower at the same time every day and they knew when, or they were spying on her and had some way of knowing she was in the shower –”
“Like the bathroom lights were on and the hot water heater kicked in?” I asked.
“Yeah. Or someone was there with her when she got in the shower. Someone she trusted.”
“Like a lover,” Petreski said.
“Or a close friend,” Don said. “Jake and I do that – I’ll take a shower when he’s at my apartment.”
“Oh?” Petreski looked at me.
“Oh, please. We’ve known each other for years. Get real. We’re talking about Dawn Thrasher, and who she might have known well enough, or felt comfortable enough around, to take a shower while he – or she – was in her apartment.”
“Whoever it was wiped the place clean. There were no prints on any doors, knobs, flat surfaces, light switches, anything. Not even Thrasher’s.”
“If they wiped down that much of the place,” I said, “then they must have spent some time there, right? Maybe more than once, if they were concerned about fingerprints in that many places.”
“That’s our assumption. We’re looking into as many of Dawn Thrasher’s close associates as we can find. Including Josh Katz.”
“That would be almost too convenient,” Don said. I nodded.
“Well, gentlemen, I must be going. Thank you for the coffee. Jake, will you walk me down?”
“Huh? Oh, sure.” I stood up to follow him out. Don smirked so I slapped him on the back of the head as I passed by.
Halfway down the stairs Petreski stopped and turned to me. I stepped down so I was on the step above him, even though the stairs were wide and there was room for both of us on the same step. This way I was taller.
“I’d be wasting my time if I asked you to stay out of all this.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah, probably.”
“Then could the two of you at least keep it to the internet? You’ve actually been helpful there, and I don’t want to worry about you – either of you – talking to th
e wrong person and putting yourselves on their radar. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay. But what if Tom Wilton’s back at school tomorrow?”
“Avoid him if you can. If you can’t, tell him the police found out you were talking to him and you don’t want to get in trouble. Put him off. He’s probably harmless – I can’t see him doing this – but we don’t want things getting any more complicated than they already are.”
“Got it. No having lunch with other men.”
“That’s not what I said.”
I shrugged. “Not in so many words.”
“Jake...”
“Go catch the killer, Petreski. I want my real date.”
Too quickly for me to react, he pulled my head down with a hand around my neck and pressed a very brief, and probably illegal, kiss to my lips. “Behave,” he ordered before he turned to jog down the steps and out the door.
Don was making kissy noises when I went back to my apartment, but I took the high road and ignored him. “I’m going to call my mom,” I said. “Do you want to go to Austin with me? I’m leaving Sunday and coming back Wednesday.”
“I don’t know. Could I bring Bridger?”
“I don’t see why not, but I’ll ask. If you can, do you want to?”
“Oh, man. Is it even okay if we leave town?”
“Shoot. We should have asked Petreski while he was here. Call him.”
I called my mom while Don called Petreski. I figured Petreski would be glad to get us out of town for a few days.
“Jake, sweetie!”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Are you still coming Sunday?”
“Well, I’m going to try. Don’s finding out whether I can.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I told you that Don and I found that body, right?”
“Oh, yes. Terrible business. But?”
“Well, Don’s calling the detective in charge to find out if it’s okay for us to leave town.”
“Oh! But surely that’s only if you’re a suspect, right?”
“Yeah, but I was one for a while. And Don still might be.”
Not a Werewolf Page 13