by Rick Murcer
Ellen raised her eyebrows. In all her years in the department, she’d never known the ME’s office to deliver anything to her office. They did good work but had always been short of people, funds, and the general courtesy to take this step. So why now?
She clicked on the next email marked Follow up and got her answer in short order.
Ellen.
I know you had to be scratching your head over the last email informing you that we will be delivering your requested samples. We don’t have time for this kind of process, typically, but when Calista Forest, who happens to be a city Councilwoman, puts down the hammer, we pay attention.
There were three or four spaces then the email continued. It was as if the information coming was an afterthought.
Yes, I think I know why. It seems that the young dead man has a higher profile than any of us realized. Benjamin Castle is the nephew of the Councilwoman.
CHAPTER-9
“Were there any complications?”
The small man dressed in worn Army fatigues crossed his legs, getting more comfortable in the expensive high back, leather chair.
She tilted her head. “Did you hear me?”
“No. No one saw me and that there device worked like a Swiss clock.”
She sat back, her eyes locked on him, lit up her first cigarette of the day, drew in the smoke and released. The small swirls danced in the air above them both as she contemplated what was next. The world was full of people like this one. As distasteful as that was, as he was, they served a purpose from time to time.
She suddenly leaned forward and slapped the desk. He jumped, his beady eyes growing large.
“Good. I knew we’d done the right thing by hiring you for this assignment.”
“Th-thanks. I-I try to d-do good w-work.”
Was that fear or did the dumb shit have a stutter? She realized she didn’t really care.
“It appears that you have. You have my thanks and of course. . .”
Reaching into the drawer, she lifted out and then tossed the envelope of money across the desk, watching it land less than two feet from where he sat.
He stared at the envelope, glanced in her direction then back to the money, licked his cracked lips, then looked back at her.
“Is th-that really fi-five thousand dollars?”
“Yes it is. Would you like to count it?”
The heat began to rise from deep within her chest, her heart rate rising with each second that he sat there staring like the ignorant junkie that he was. His need obviously growing. She let it.
“No. No. Of c-course n-not. It’s j-just that I-I’ve never had. . .”
His voice trailed off as he stretched out a rough hand and plucked the money from the glass top. He then rose and quickly stuffed the envelope into the breast pocket of the jacket.
Giving her one more unsteady glance, he thanked her again, turned and headed for the door, his goal, no doubt, a drunken, drug-induced binge unmatched by anything he’d yet undertaken. Pity.
“Wait.”
He stopped in mid-stride like he’d been shot. Then slowly turned back in her direction, his eyes staring at her oriental rug.
“What?”
“I usually celebrate these kinds of things with a toast. Would you like to have a brandy with me?”
She pointed at the corner of her desk, her rage and desire rising higher. In concert, like heavenly harmonies.
“It’s a Chateau de Laubade 1974 Vintage Armagnac and three hundred dollars a bottle. It will undoubtedly be the best drink you’ve ever tasted.”
He licked his lips. “I-I guess so.”
She poured two glasses and stepped over to him, handing him the glass.
“Let’s toast to success and your discretion, yes?”
“I ain’t m-much into toastin’, ma’am, but I’ll keep a secret and d-drink your booze.”
“Yes I suspect you’ll do both. In fact, I’m sure of it. Bottom’s up.”
He downed the drink and then offered her a crooked smile, yellow teeth and all.
“You’re right, good s-shit.”
“Yes, it is. I’m glad you got to taste some good shit before you leave.”
She then pulled her hand from her side and plunged the seven-inch steel knife deep into the man’s heart, the blade entering just below his ribs. She twisted.
There was no real surprise on his face, not even a true widening of his eyes, just a shallow gasp. His accompanying slow dissension and delayed thud came next as he hit the floor, directly on top of the Oriental rug.
She dropped to one knee, capturing every last pulse of the ebbing adrenaline rush her actions had created. She waited, then spoke.
“Thank you again, sir. I hope your last drink was a pleasure that stays with you, wherever you are. I hope you understand. In my business, we can’t allow loose ends.”
She nodded at the two body guards, who stood motionless by the door. They moved quickly, wrapping the body in the rug and moving quickly through the door. In three minutes’ time, her office belonged to her alone.
After one last look at the door where the men had disappeared, she returned to her desk and stood looking out her large window.
The sparkling Lake Michigan shoreline reminding her once again of the contrast between beauty and the terrible in this world. Her world. The one she’d embraced.
Yet, if one embraces such a life, is it terrible?
She supposed that was one for the philosophers. She only knew how she felt when she was in complete control.
And make no mistake, she was.
Reaching for the brandy, she poured another and sipped with pleasure.
“Such a path we weave,” she whispered.
CHAPTER-10
Ellen pressed the four-digit code on the dark key pad outside the wooden door that lead to the general lab and entered.
The lab, with its wide-open floor plan, wasn’t state of the art. Budget constraints would never allow that; but it was workable and that was enough for her.
The work stations were neat, organized and orderly, except for the occasional calendar or poster that displayed a tech’s affinity for music, dogs, beaches, or cats. She had banned half-naked men and women on those wall hangings for clear reasons. But, she had to admit, the Chippendales in one of the work areas had been her favorite. Then again, she was dating a man who could show those boys a thing or two about being in shape.
She continued down the center aisle, her white coat trailing behind her, as she hurried in the direction of her enclosed, private work station situated next to Aaron’s, who happened to be standing just outside her area.
Standing next to him was the courier sent from the ME’s office. The cute, curvy woman was getting Aaron’s signature as he held the silver metal bio sample case and large gray envelope. Her handsome partner was flirting, as usual.
“Hey, lover boy, we’ve got a problem and a ton of work to do, so let this woman get back to her office so we can get to it,” said Ellen.
“I just need to get her phone number, okay?”
His wide smile almost sucked Ellen into a grin of her own. Almost.
“I’m sure she’ll find you if she’s interested. Let’s get to work.”
The young lady turned on her heel and headed for the door, her smile replaced with a measure of apprehension. There must have been more of an edge in Ellen’s voice than she’d intended.
Old Miss Pissy still showed her ugly head from time to time. But that didn’t change the fact that this case had taken another dimension that now included politics.
There was nothing worse for an investigation than a politician with a personal agenda involving a case. This one might shove all the others she’d worked aside like so many fleas.
A Councilwoman had some clout, even if wasn’t ethical to play favorites. Most people used what they had, so she didn’t blame the woman for that, but her nephew was not more important than the other cases. But fair wasn’t always the order of the day.
Luckily, that wouldn’t be a problem in this case. It was the hottest thing the department had to work at the moment.
She grabbed Aaron’s arm. “Bring those to my work office and then shut the door.”
“Okay. Okay. Damn. What’s the big yank? Those bodies aren’t going anywhere.”
“Just bring the samples.”
Then Ellen hurried to her mini lab.
“Coming. Geez. And what do you mean if she wants to see me? I’m hot enough, right?”
Ellen ignored him, unlocked her door, and ushered Aaron in, then closed it, the tinted window rattling as she did.
Aaron placed the samples and envelope on the countertop next to her spectrometer, near her power microscope and centrifuge.
“What’s the deal, Ellie? Is that whole foot and hand in the vehicle bugging you?”
“Hell yes it bugs me, but not the way you think. We’re the cops, law enforcement, CPD for crying out loud, and someone got into our unit like we sent them an invitation. That part upsets me. It’s not like the CPD is on a lot people’s Christmas card lists anyway. We’re seen as the enemy by a lot of unsavory people. And, the fact our units could be accessed anytime, anywhere, could also mean tainted evidence, if not with these cases, then others later, maybe even some cold cases.”
“Okay. I get it. And what you said is true. That’s why you are the Queen, err, make the big bucks.”
“Good save. Anyway, we’re going to fix that little problem as much as possible. I have the tech crew working on it now. They can change the frequencies that our SUV’s ignition works with to something extremely private and jam attempts to get our frequency with a few tweaks of the system. All of that aside, we may have a bigger problem than that, as hard as that is to believe.”
Aaron frowned and folded his arms. “What do you mean?”
“The dead man, Ben Castle, is also the nephew of Chicago Councilwoman, Calista Forest.”
Aaron’s frown grew deeper. She knew, armed with that information, he’d let that wonderful brain loose in the right directions.
“Wow. That boggles the mind with about a million possible reasons for his death.”
“It does. Revenge? A bribe gone wrong? Political statement?”
“All good guesses, Boss. Or jealousy or hate. And there’s always the ‘in the wrong place at the right time’ thing or a love gone south. Hell, it could have been as simple as a bar fight that led to a visitation from the serial killer demons stalking this city.”
After spending a second or two looking at his feet, Aaron abruptly raised his head and found her eyes.
“What else?”
“Like you told me at the riverbank crime scene, and I’ve picked up a few things on my own. Violence like this is a story in itself. It was personal, at least to someone. Even though we’re science geeks, we have to look at the context of the evidence gathered as well as the evidence itself, in part anyway, right?”
“Right. But there are variables that only can be discovered by what we do.”
He nodded. “So what if this man was kidnapped?”
“What if he were? What does that tell you?”
“Three things. And you’re already thinking that, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what I’m thinking for sure, Aaron. Enlighten me.”
“Okay, I shall. Three things. Kidnapping means he was probably taken from another location and would have been dumped in the river, as opposed to falling or crawling in after he lost his limbs.”
“True, but dumping might not be as clear-cut as it seems. Go on.”
“Assuming that is true, we need to send a crew to his last known address. He had to be transported from A to B. We need to look for evidence that will tell us if and how that happened.”
“They are already on the way. And the third thing?”
“That the kidnapping didn’t work out, for whatever reason, and Castle paid for it.”
“Well done. But you left out one thing.”
“Yeah? What?” asked Aaron, raising his eyebrows.
“Kidnappers usually contact someone, right?”
“Well that’s what I meant when I said it. . . oh. So who did the killer contact?”
“That’s right. If it was a kidnapping, it was done with a purpose and that means someone was contacted to resolve the issue, whatever that issue was. And let’s not forget, the second victim, poor Ramona, is the daughter of a CPD cop. It may not mean much, or it could be related. Either way, we’re going to find out.”
“So you think the Councilwoman or her family was contacted?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. And remember, we’re just throwing ideas out there. But we’ll have Brice and Bella see if they can talk to her and find out. We can also subpoena her phone records if she won’t cooperate. But, she has privileges so we might not get anything from those. Then again, she could be a dead end, but I don’t think so. I’m going to talk to Big Harv, off the record, and see if he knows what Ramona’s dad was working on.”
“Good thinking. You sound more like a detective than an FT supervisor, Harper.”
“Maybe I do, but that doesn’t make me a detective. I told you we need to get more involved in the whys. Let’s face it, all of us techs are better when we sink our teeth into an investigation as opposed to punching the clock and then going home. Let’s get to work. Here’s where I want you to start working.”
Reaching into the pocket of her jeans, she handed him a list of five procedures she needed him to complete.
“I need the water from the lungs of both victims analyzed. Make sure the tox report is done how we would do it. I want even a trace of a trace identified if we can find one. I don’t care what is a normal reading for chemicals in any area of this city. Work those findings. Both victims’ fingernails were scraped and sampled. Let’s see if we can find any foreign DNA.”
“I also want to know where those crosses came from and if there’s anything on them, right down to the engraving. That should help ID where they came from. I also need to know what was used to sever Ben Castle’s limbs. Check our data base against the scoring of the saw and see if we have something like that on file.”
He saluted. “Yes, your grace. You do know how tough these tests can be because of the bodies’ exposure to water, right?”
“Of course. But we have to try. That’s also why I’m going to do the fiber analysis. I will also handle the bodily fluid degradation and samples from the bodies that might show us if there were any sexual encounters. Plus, I have another little surprise.”
Stroking his chin, mimicking Sherlock Holmes, Aaron stepped toward her.
“Like what, my dear Watson? I’m intrigued by the word surprise.”
“Get to work and I’ll show you when I get back.”
Then she spun around and headed for the door, hoping her research had been correct and relevant.
CHAPTER-11
The doorbell rang for the second time, then a third, then again.
Good god, leave me alone.
The bell rang in quick succession again, eliminating all hope that the ringer of the bell was going anywhere.
Wiping at the sweat running in tiny rivulets down his face, adding more stink to the already unpleasant odor emanating from his thin frame, he did his best to lift himself from the leather sofa. He stood on shaky legs, wondering exactly why he hadn’t fallen yet. He steadied himself with a hand on the high-back chair and then wrinkled his nose, his stench even more pronounced, but at that moment regard for his personal hygiene was low on the Totem pole.
After wobbling to the door, his awkward attempts at unlocking the deadbolt finally payed off and he swung it open.
His “friend” Edgar, the last and first man on the planet he wanted to see, stood on the stoop.
“Damn it. I told you that I’m trying to quit. Get the hell away from me.”
Edgar held out his pale hand, showing the small clear bag of white powder standing erect between his fingers, his smile far
more like a hunting shark than anything human.
“I know, man, I know. But you don’t look so good. This will help take the edge off and get you rolling.”
He licked his lips. “I’ve been rolling long enough.” The sound of his own voice seemed as if it were coming from a million miles away.
Edgar step into the apartment and stood inches from him.
“I hear that a lot. The truth is that no one rolls enough. No one gets enough of what they want and need. You hear me, man? That’s why I’m here. You deserve this. In fact, it’s a gift for you. Free of charge.”
Rubbing his temples, his perspiration making a renewed surge over his face, he closed his eyes, trying to remember what it had been like before he discovered the poison in Edgar’s hand.
The first time, he’d only wanted to escape reality for a while. To not see her face in every step of his life, to forget about the terrible mistake he’d made. And it had worked, for a time.
But demons never stay away for long, no matter what exorcism one attempts, especially the kind that takes you by the nuts and squeezes, destroying your life with excruciating precision.
He raised his hand, and then dropped it to his side.
Edgar lifted the packet to within inches of his bloodshot eyes. “Just take it, man. Just take it. The pain will go away. I know what I’m talking about,” he said softly.
The pain will go away.
Edgar’s words echoed deep in his mind and he wanted nothing more, except her. The tears began to form. Then slowly, purposefully, her face, violet eyes and all, showed bright in his mind’s eye.
Good God, she was so beautiful.
He couldn’t take it a second longer.
Snatching the packet out of Edgar’s hand, he moved unsteadily to the bathroom, his only thought was to relive the physical and mental torture that threatened to send him into oblivion.
“Good man, good man,” said Edgar.
Joel Harper hardly heard him leave. That act, nor Edgar, for that fact, no longer mattered. Soon the pain would subside and Ellen’s face, full of disapproval, would vanish from his head, and he wouldn’t go nearly insane with regret and grief, again.