Maternal Harbor (13 page)

Homicide Detective Zoltan Lutavosky heard the kitchen phone ring from the garage where he tinkered on his lawn mower.  With the grass half mowed, the piece of junk machine choked out and wouldn’t restart.  He cursed the descending darkness and fiddled faster with a wet sparkplug.  Damn rain.  Would it ever let up?

The phone stopped ringing.  Cassie had answered.

He wiped the end of the plug with a cloth, squatted down, and was twisting it in place when his wife appeared in the doorway leading to the kitchen.  Usually she came, pressed herself against him and gave him a sad kiss when he answered a call to work in the evening, but she stayed in the doorway.  “It’s dispatch,” she said with almost a relieved look.

His knees popped when he straightened.  “You’re happy I’m called out?” 

“My boyfriend is coming over and it’s a good idea if you don’t meet him.”

“
Your father?  At this time of the evening?”

Cassie’s bottom lip turned down, but her eyes sparked teasingly.

“Maybe I’m glad, too.”  Lute wiped his hands on a shop towel.

“
Dad doesn’t hate you, he just loves me.”

“
That’s a limp excuse for someone acting like he does.”  Lute hung up the crescent wrench on the eye level peg board, one of the improvements Cassie planned to accommodate his six foot, nine-inch frame.  She maintained he needed one place in the world that matched him.  How she could be the daughter of such an aggravating man, Lute didn’t know.  He patted her sturdy shoulder and brushed by to the phone.

“
Lutavosky,” he said into the mouthpiece.  He felt her hand rub his back right in the spot between his shoulder blades that always hurt, then her head pressed against it, and her arms encircled his waist tight enough to leave a warmth from the embrace long after he left the house.  Firm yet gentle, when Cassie hugged, it was meant to last.

Static crackled in the receiver, and then dispatch responded.  “Need you to respond to a request for a detective at 204, Cedar Village Apartments.”

“What’s the drill?”

“
Female deceased.”

“
On my way.”  He hung up, turned to Cassie and wrapped her in his arms.  “Sorry,” he murmured against her silky dark hair.  So opposite of his sandy color that became more and more flecked with gray each day.

Cassie followed him into the bedroom and watched him change to slacks, shirt, tie, shoulder holster and jacket.  When he was dressed and ready to leave, she finally spoke.  “Bring home a gallon of milk.”

Knowing she remained silent because he still carried frustration at the lawnmower, he winked at her.

Dimples claimed Cassie’s cheeks.  “I’ll take the mower to the shop tomorrow.”

“And I’ll try harder to understand how lonely your father is since Mom died.  I’d be lost without you.”

“
He needs me now.”

“
So do I.”  Lute’s words slipped out, and he hated the way her dimples disappeared.  “Again I’m sorry.”

The doorbell rang.  “Go through the kitchen.”  She hurried away.  The soft, diminishing pad of her flip flops carried back to him.  Lute told himself to bring home a quart of orange sherbet along with the milk.  A cold treat was a poor peace offering, but Cassie would love it, especially since the twins were now off to college, and she could delve into the whole tub herself.

After he rolled onto Aurora, Lute called dispatch.  “En route – what do you have on the case?”

“
Prelims indicate homicide.”

“
Ten minutes to location.”  He closed his cell phone and increased speed.

Lute drove north into the Queen Anne area, then west on Darvus Street, hung a right at Thorndyke, and climbed a gradual hill.  Pre-Depression homes populated both sides of the street.  Stately cedars, cottonwoods and Maples guarded them; hedges of hemlock and Japanese barberry hid them.  Always alert to his surroundings, he noticed, with the help of the headlights, pears hanging like hard green grenades on their trees.  Soon they’d turn juicy and golden.

The well-lit apartment village topped the crown of a hill.  After easing over speed bumps, Lute tracked the apartment numbers while following a curve.  Ahead and near several squad cars and the coroner’s van, a crowd, mostly young adults, clustered along the sidewalk; each curious to see someone else’s misfortune; all secretly hyped by the break in their daily lives.

Lute unfolded from his car and walked to an ambulance and EMT crew.  “Sid, I was hoping to see you.”

Rawboned and healthy, Sid Galloway leaned against the red fender.  He raised his blonde brows.

“
We’re getting teams ready for basketball,” Lute said.  “I want you on mine.”

“
You still playin’?”

“
Hard on the knees, but yeah.”

Sid chewed on his lip.  “Who else?  I only pop hoops for winners.”

“Me and whoever you find.”

Sid’s long drawn-out groan sounded behind him.  Enjoying his own humor, Lute nodded to several officers by the doorway, and then climbed the switchback stairs to the second level.

Inside number 206, the stark living room held just the bare necessities: one recliner, one floral sofa, one lamp and a television.  No pictures or plants to soften it into a home.  The only hint of personality was a brass tray filled with partially charred incense sticks and ash.  Whoever lived here didn’t like the smell and didn’t plan to stay long.  The cheap carpet was matted in front of the balcony’s sliding glass doors.  She spent a lot of time looking out the window.

A deputy coroner was in the kitchen area discussing the deceased with a tech, who was snapping pictures of the body by the entrance to the hallway; another tech dusted the doorframe.

After a quick acknowledgment, Lute ignored them and knelt by the body, using the moment to still his mind and study the beautiful, young Asian woman lying with her head at a grotesque angle.  The coroner didn’t need to tell him the cause of death – severed spinal cord at a cervical vertebra.  He checked for stress at the pressure points and saw only a slight reddening.  Death had been quick.  The perpetrator knew what he was doing.

The coroner stood back, allowing Lute his quiet assessment of the crime scene.

Lute finally asked, “Any sign of a struggle?”

“
Butcher knife was on the floor.  She tried to defend herself.”

“
Think she did any damage?”

“
No blood on the blade.  Fingernails appear clean.”

“
Next of kin?”

“
The husband is a seaman on a freighter bound for the Philippines.  The wall calendar has a big mark on the day he’s due home.  We’ll notify.”

“
Anyone else?”  Lute hoped so.  No one should die without somebody close.

“
This little gal was a nursing mother.  No sign of her baby.  Crib’s empty and drawers yanked open.  Looks like an abduction.”

Lute let that sink in for a moment.  “Who reported it?”

“911 from a worried friend.  Operator wanted it checked out.  Officer Reynolds took the call from dispatch.  He didn’t say anything about the infant.  I told him to stick around.”

“
He’s downstairs.”

The coroner scanned the room.  “Guess, I’m ready to wrap it up.”

“Wait for Hal.  He’s supposed to take a look.”

“
Talking about me?”  Detective Halstead solid bulk limped through the door.  A perpetual frown cut his forehead and carried to his jowls.  He needed to retire and wanted everyone to know it.

Lute needed him to retire.  “What happened to the gimp leg?” he asked when Hal joined him.

“Soccer with overgrown grandsons.”  Hal settled his weight square on his wide feet.  With his index finger, he jabbed his glasses back on his nose and peered at the body.  “Pretty little thing.  What do we have on her?”

Lute ran through what the deputy coroner said, then added, “They’re ready to transport.”

Hal nodded.  “Anyone see anything?”

“
Haven’t gotten that far.”  Lute turned to the deputy coroner.  “Tell Reynolds to hang tight.  I want to look over the apartment before I visit with him.”

“
I’ll send the boys up to bag her.”

“
I’ll be by the lab tomorrow – early.”  Lute left Hal checking through a kitchen drawer filled with papers and walked down the hallway.  Inside the master bedroom, he scanned for items to help understand why she died in such an brutal way.  Husband is out to sea so scratch him.  A boyfriend?  The room told him nothing.

The ransacked nursery was a complete contrast to the starkness of the rest of the apartment.  Drawers were pulled open and tiny soft clothes lay scattered on the floor.  Rattles, pacifiers, diapers and a container of baby wipes had been swept from a changing table.

Where is the baby?

Hal poked his head in the door.  “I’m finished,” he announced.  “Coming?”

“In a minute.”  Lute followed down the hall, but stopped at the balcony’s sliding glass door.  The parking lot was clearly visible.  Had she watched her killer arrive?  Lute surveyed the apartment one last time before he dipped his head a tad and stepped through the front door.  He dropped down the stairs two at a time and indicated the crew should proceed with the transport.

Hal was on the far side of the ambulance visiting with Reynolds.  A few of the neighbors still gathered on the front lawn, talking with the policemen.

Lute stopped short of them and waited for Reynolds to excuse himself and join him.  “See anyone leaving when you arrived?”  Lute asked.

“
No.  Door was closed, but unlocked.  None of the neighbors saw or heard anything.”

“
Coroner thinks we have a kidnapping.”

“
My understanding is that the 911 caller has the baby.”  Reynolds pulled his notebook.  “Teagan O’Riley.  Address is in Ballard.”  He handed Lute the slip of paper.  “I don’t envy what’s ahead of you.”

Lute’s right shoulder raised and resettled, trying to get rid of a kink in his neck.  “Better disperse the crowd.”  He motioned to Hal.

Hal flipped open his cell phone.  “I’ll contact a CPS caseworker.” 

Teagan struck a match.  Flames ran the length of the burner and glowed against the ceramic logs of her gas fireplace in hues of pink, yellow and blue.  A bonfire on a beach calmed raw nerves like no place else, but inside a secure condominium complex, the rhythmic dance of ignited gas worked almost as well.

“I’m
so
glad those crabby little boys are finally asleep,” she said and sank into her favorite lumpy chair.

“
I don’t want to hear a peep out of them until the two o’clock feeding,” Doretta muttered from where she sprawled on the pillow-backed sofa, sipping a glass of grapefruit juice.  “After I wean Levi, I’m going to drink a whole case of Chablis.”

Knees crossed and foot jiggling, Teagan assessed Doretta’s remark.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Doretta said.  “Judging eyes drive me nuts.  I was just wishing for something to relax me.  God, I despise worrying.  I’m gonna kill Pai.”

“
Maybe we’ll feed her to the sharks.”

Doretta shivered.  “That’s gruesome.”

“I’ve never been so scared in my life, and I don’t mind telling you straight up like the old salts at the pier taught me.”

“
If those sailors were here, they’d tell you to take a breath.”

Teagan sucked in air and blew it at Doretta.  “Talking kills time.  I used to talk to anything.  Animal, mineral, vegetable.  It didn’t matter.  Hearing words aloud did.”  

Doretta’s large eyes appraised her above the rim of the glass.  She sipped the juice and puckered.  “Why Ruby Red?”

“
Healthy.  What was it like to have a houseful of sisters?  Were you the youngest?”

“
The middle child.”  Doretta sighed.  “It’s a terrible spot to be in the pecking order.  My older sisters told me how to act, the younger ones told me what to do for them.”

Through Doretta’s affected tone Teagan heard the love for her siblings, and again felt the loneliness of being a little girl kept apart – one that didn’t know the difference until she climbed down the maple.  “But they were your friends.”

“No way.  I hated them all, just like I hate Pai right now.”  Doretta stretched her legs and re-crossed them at a different angle.  Her rich skin gleamed in the firelight, so different than Teagan’s milky, freckled complexion.

“
You’re such a liar.”  Teagan glanced at the clock.  “I just don’t understand why Pai hasn’t come back.”

“
It’ll be all right.”  Doretta cleared her throat.  “Turn on the TV.  We might catch something on the ten o’clock news.  Maybe there’s a big tie-up on I-5.”

Teagan reached for the remote.