After my morning ritual, I left my apartment to find Sanchez waiting for me downstairs. She leaned on her truck by the tailgate just over the exhaust pipe which emitted a steady stream of blue exhaust. “Hey Claire,” I began. “Don’t you know breathing exhaust is bad for your lungs?”
“Hey, don’t you worry about my lungs, they’re fine,” she said as she turned to climb in the driver side door.
“Well, they look good from here.” Maybe I shouldn’t have said that out loud but she did look good today. Since it was a warmer morning, she wore a tight pair of jeans and a t-shirt that firmly hugged her figure. It must have been chillier than I thought because her nipples were erect.
“You just can’t help yourself can you?”
“Helping myself actually never occurred to me. Do you think I need help?”
“Big time.”
“Do you think you’re woman enough for the task?”
She laughed, and I must admit that it sounded real good, "Let me just say that you’d never be the same.”
I was just wondering if that would be a good thing or a bad thing when my cell began to play Taps. I set the ringtone to Taps because I don’t get a lot of calls unless it’s bad news.
“Jack here,” I answered after I fished the damn thing out of my pocket. I really should buy one of those belt clips for the phone, but I’d rather drown the friggin’ thing.
“Jack, Captain Spacey,” he answered. “We have a murder over at 3 State Street, apartment number 302. I need you and Claire over there to work the crime scene.”
“Alright we’re there,” and I closed the phone and stuffed it in my pocket.
“What’s up?” asked Claire.
“Someone’s dead on 3 State Street.”
“Who?”
“He didn’t say, just that he wanted the dynamic duo there.”
“He said that?”
“No, but he would have been right if he had.”
We arrived at the apartment building and made our way through the usual throng of people and press to the front door.
Officer Guillian was waiting on the steps for us, flipping through his notebook.
“What do we have officer?” I asked.
“We have a dead female age 24, Beatrice Leavitt. She was found this morning by the landlady who collects the rent every Monday.
Apparently, Beatrice leaves the money in an envelope on her kitchen table. When the envelope wasn’t there she looked around and found Ms. Leavitt in bed, dead.”
“Cause of death?” asked Claire as we made our way up to the third-floor apartment.
“Bullet to the head, died instantly. They recovered the slug and have already sent it to the lab.”
“Time of death?” I asked
“Approximately midnight,” I heard from above as Fritz von Gretchen made his way towards us. “Claire, how are you? Have you put in for a transfer away from this guy yet?”
“I tried but he found the orders and burned them,” said Claire, as she shook Fritz’s hand.
“That so, Jack? You finally know a good thing when you see it?”
“Yeah she does kind of grow on you,” I said, as I took my turn shaking his hand. “So, what’s going on here?”
“Well, right now I can’t tell you more than she is dead and about what time she died. We should have some ballistics by morning.
Nothing has been touched, just as you like it. We do want to get her moved down to the coroner’s office soon.”
“This won’t take long, give me 15 minutes or so with the body, and then you can take her. Claire, let’s go.”
We both put on rubber gloves and made our way to the victim’s body in the bedroom.
In this profession, you rarely see dead old people. Seeing a young 24-year-old girl with her whole life in front of her with a bullet hole in her head never gets easy.
I took a deep breath then looked over the bullet wound. “No visible powder burns, angle of entry almost horizontal.”
Claire moved over by the window and squatted holding her fingers like a gun. “Does this look about right?”
“Yeah, an odd way to shoot someone in the middle of the night, if your this close. Why not just walk up and bang?”
Outside the window behind Claire there seemed to be no place a shooter could have shot from at that angle, until the trees in Deering Oaks Park, almost 300 yards away.
I turned my attention back to the body. “Was it warm last night?” I asked.
“A little, why?”
“She’s nude so either it was warm or she wasn’t alone all night.”
“Well, some people sleep in the buff year-round.”
I acknowledged that and filed it away for later comment, now was not the time. Fritz was standing at the door so I asked, “Any signs of sexual activity or assault?”
“There was no sign of semen but we did find traces of K-Y jelly around her vaginal area,” he answered.
I looked at the blood that had flowed from the exit wound onto the pillow.
“Claire, you see how the blood seems to run to this point right here. Someone was lying next to her with their head on the pillow right here.”
We began to go over the room thoroughly looking for any signs of a second person. We found what we were looking for in the bathroom.
Someone had taken a shower and had left a blood print on the door to the bathroom. I also found a broken acrylic nail on the floor, painted French style.
The victim’s fingernails had been natural and manicured. “This place needs a good dusting.”
‘My team is just arriving now,” said Fritz.
“Let me know what you get and have the station run the prints. Claire, can you go find the landlady?”
I went over to Ms. Leavitt’s dresser and opened the top drawer. There was underwear in the drawer as well as cotton pajamas and silk short pajama sets. She appeared not to be a buff sleeper.,
“Jack, I have Mrs. Wallace in the next room,” Claire said from the doorway.
Mrs. Wallace was sitting on the couch in the living room fidgeting nervously. She had blue-white hair and seemed to be in her mid-seventies.
She was rail-thin and when she spoke her raspy voice belied years of chain-smoking. “Mrs. Wallace, did Ms. Leavitt have anyone in her life?” I began, taking a seat opposite to her.
“She did have a female companion for quite some time but they had a falling out.” She said, as she made an effort to sit still.
“Female companion as in lover, I assume.”
“Well yes, but what she does in her own apartment is not my concern, as long as it’s not illegal mind you,” she finished with a shake of her finger.
“Do you know how to get in touch with this person?”
“I know her name is Jennifer Rawley. I don’t know how to reach her though.”
“How long since they split up?”
“Maybe a month or so.”
“Anyone else in her life that you know of?”
“No, but we weren’t close so maybe you might ask down at Maine Medical Center. She works over there in Pediatrics.”
Claire asked, “How long has she been a tenant?”
“Three years I believe, moved straight here from her parent’s house in Greene after she graduated nursing school. This is a real shame. She was very nice.”
“Thank you and if you think of anything else, give us a call,” Claire handed her one of her cards.
I browsed through the living room as Claire walked Mrs. Wallace to the door. The room was neat, with soft plush furniture. The coffee table was a lobster trap with a glass top.
I think it’s a required item in Maine for every first apartment. The TV was a 27” Sharp and sat on an entertainment center that probably came from Wal-Mart.
A bargain buyer, at least she appreciated hardcover editions.
I watched as the EMT carried the body of Ms. Leavitt from the apartment and then walked back into the bedroom.
Something was sitting wrong with me as I looked out the window. Claire walked up behind me and stood so close I could feel her body heat against my back.
“What are you thinking?” she asked in a soft tone as she followed my gaze out the window.
“She didn’t normally sleep in the nude. She had a full jammy drawer, summer and winter. Which one are you, jammies or nude?” I said, though it wasn’t what I was thinking.
Her voice got even softer, almost to a whisper, “I’m not telling. If that’s what you’re really thinking about you’ve got problems.”
“Yeah and I think it’s gonna get worse before it gets better. The bullet didn’t come from in the room and the trajectory doesn’t line up with any buildings. Do you want to have a picnic?”
I asked as I turned my head towards her. I didn’t realize how close she was until our noses almost touched when I turned.
She smiled and I was beginning to think she was enjoying this or maybe I was just hoping, “Where?”
I turned back and nodded towards the park. “Over there, under that tree.”
We walked down to the corner market and bought sandwiches, some sodas, and a bag of Humpty Dumpty potato chips.
The total came to eleven dollars and some change. “I’ll take care of this,” I said as I put the money on the counter.
“Is this a picnic date or a working lunch?” she asked again with that killer smirk – it used to be a cute smirk now it was killer.
“Can it be both or do we eat and come back an hour later?” I said as I winked at the man behind the counter.
“Both work for me, I’m easy.”
“Now that’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” I said taking the bag from the now smiling man.
She put her lips to my ear and whispered, “Not that easy mister.”
As we walked out the door I said to her, “Next time you whisper in my ear like that there could be trouble.”
She just smiled a bright and lovely smile and I think she literally bounced out the door, and then she spun and said, “Catch me if you can.” She turned again and ran across the street toward the park.
Claire is a very fit 26-year-old woman who was only a year out of the Army. I am 34 and in reasonably good shape.
I exercise daily on a little home gym set I have, so I figure I’ve got a pretty good shot at catching her. I took off after her, carrying the food, which I realized was a serious disadvantage.
She ran by the tree I wanted to look at so I dropped the food near it and cranked it up a notch.
I almost had her by a stream that ran toward the duck pond but she darted away and headed for a dry wading pool.
The banks on either side were rather steep but she had sneakers on and was able to scramble up the side but with my loafers, I couldn’t gain any footing. I slipped and hit the ground hard.
“Shit, oh Christ that hurts!” I yelled, lying face down on the ground. I turned over and grabbed my knee and winced. Claire bought it and came quickly back and slid to my side.
I grabbed both her wrists and rolled over and pinned her to the ground. “You are a sucker.”
“Bastard,” she said as she tried to wiggle her way out.
From over my shoulder, I heard someone yell. “Hey you, what are you doing? Let her go.”
Claire turned her head to the guy above us on the bank and yelled, “Hey buddy, get lost.”
She lifted up her head and planted one right on my lips. I let go of her wrist and slid my arms beneath her. She rolled me over and sat on top of me, grabbed my wrist, and slammed my hands to the ground.
“Ow,” I said.
“Sucker,” she smiled and laid down on me still holding my hands fast to the ground.
I felt the warmth of her body and she gently pressed her lips to mine and we lost ourselves for a few moments in passion on the warm spring morning.
A short time later, we sat beneath the tree that I had dropped the picnic lunch by. It was now just afternoon and we had finished our sandwiches without much conversation.
For my part, I was just enjoying the moment, though I was a little concerned. I have never had a female partner.
Close friendships have grown between former partners and me, but this was becoming much more than a friendship. Would it affect my job and how I worked a murder case?
Granted, she was a smart cookie and had good instincts, but would a different relationship interfere with that?
I took a long look at her light-skinned face with the frosted green eyes, small sharp nose, smirk, and wondered if we could still work together and play together without driving each other crazy.
“Jack, you really need to stop doing that,” she said, as the smirk widened to a broad smile.
“What?” I asked coming out of my thoughts.
“If you keep staring at me, people will talk. You know you’re so damn obvious.” She leaned towards me placing her hands on the ground and putting her face inches from mine.
“Obvious? You have purposely tried to seduce me from the moment we went out the other night, and you call me obvious?”
“I did seduce you, didn’t I? Well, you know I couldn’t wait for you to notice anymore. A woman has her needs you know.”
“Shit, I’m in trouble,” I said leaning against the tree.
“Yes you are,” she said as she turned her back toward me and lay against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and she hugged them close.
We sat like this for almost a half-hour saying nothing but listening to the birds and feeling the sun on our faces. I finally began to drift slowly back to reality and think about the latest murder.
I asked Claire, “Do you know why I really came to the park?”
“Yes I do, but everyone has a lunch break. Is our hour up, Boss?”
“Yes, I suppose it is. But let’s experiment.”
“I like the sound of that”
“Let’s see if I can sit here with a beautiful woman in my arms and change which part of my anatomy is doing the thinking.”
She laughed, “Guys can really do that without spraining something?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried.” I gave her a squeeze and took one more moment to enjoy the feeling of her leaning up against me. I took a deep breath then turned my thoughts back to the case as best I could. “We have the murder of a lesbian woman with a single shot to the head.”
“Check.”
“We believe she was not alone when she was murdered. Furthermore, her partner was asleep beside her when the murder occurred.”
“Possible check, what if she was some kind of necrophiliac who killed her lover and then lay down beside her, maybe even had sex with her.
Keep in mind that the second woman showered before she left. An odd fact.”
“An interesting theory, we’ll get back to that in a second. If the second woman was not the murderer, why did she stay asleep when her friend was shot?”
“She never heard the gun.”
“This would indicate that the murderer was not in the room with the gun or it certainly would have woken her up.
After she was dead, the blood soaked into the pillow and worked its way down to her companion’s spot on the pillow, leaving the blood trail and impression we saw.”
“Ok, what about the shower part and why didn’t she just call the police?”
“No one can know she’s a lesbian, either because of her status in the community or perhaps she’s married.
So, she freaks out a little, gets up and runs to the bathroom, and maybe throws up or something, remind me to have Fritz take a good look at the toilet bowl.
She notices a lot of blood on her and since she is already naked, she jumps in the shower and rinses off. A quick cleanup of the bathroom and
My guess is that we will find her prints everywhere because, as the bloody print on the shower shows, she was in a hurry.”
“Ok, where does that leave my necrophiliac theory?”
“I think if that was the case the perp would be more thorough in cleaning up, the evidence more sketchy at best.
We need to find this woman and figure out her motives and maybe charge her with fleeing the crime scene, but murder, I’d bet she didn’t do it.”
“So, who did?”
“The man who was in this tree or one of the others around it but this would seem to be the best choice.”
“Why this tree?” She turned over and sat facing me on my lap. This almost changed the thinking part of my anatomy but I was on a roll and was able to stay focused.
“This tree has the best line of fire. Also, as I was trying to catch you, I noticed that the route you took would be excellent cover for someone who wanted to get out of the park unseen.
Remember the wading pool and the high banks? You could run through there hidden from the patrol roads until maybe fifty feet from the main road. Beyond that, a parked car is waiting and you’re gone.
Let’s have some blues check the neighborhood over on the other side of the park. Maybe someone will remember a car parked over there around midnight.”
“Ok, I’ll do that. Why not kill both women?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she was the only target and he only needed her. I hope we get the chance to ask the bastard in person.”
“How do we prove this?”
“First we start climbing trees and we begin with this one. I wonder if Fritz can dust a tree?”
“Since it’s obvious that I am more agile than you, I’ll go up,” she said as she donned a pair of rubber gloves.
“Do you always carry them with you?”
“Ask me later,” she said as she began climbing the tree. I must admit she moved like a cat, quickly from branch to branch.
“I found something Jack. You’re right; this is the perfect perch for a shot at that window.”
She made her way back down and handed me a note with a hole in it where it had been skewered by a branch. The note was simple, 5/5. I looked off toward the window of our latest victim and thought, “Now we have a pattern. The killer is leaving notes for us. He’s definitely toying with us.”
