Death of an Intern (29 page)

I
was half awake, enjoying the lolling and the attention from Jerry. He came into the bedroom carrying a tray of juice; blueberry-flavored, low-fat yogurt; one half of a whole wheat bagel with a little fat-free cream cheese; and a cup of hot decaf coffee. He put it down on the dresser and sat on the bed.

He bent over and kissed me. “I've got breakfast.”

“Mmmmm, I smell the coffee.”

“Decaf. If you'll help, we can get you propped up and I'll bring the tray over. Break in the new four-legged one.”

“When did you do that?”

“Right after you gave me the good news. I hid it in the front closet.”

“I've got to watch out for you. I always thought you were a straightforward guy. You've been around me too long.”

He gave me another kiss. “Not long enough.” He stuffed two extra pillows in behind me to prop me up. “I'll need to get you a husband.”

“I've got the only one I want,” I said amorously.

“No, I mean the kind you lean against, has little arms on it, stuffed with eiderdown.”

“Except for the
little arms
, that fits my husband very well.”

“And after all I've done for you.”

“Come here.” I extended my arms and hugged him “I wouldn't trade you in for ten husbands with little arms.”

We laughed.

“Your yogurt is getting warm and your coffee cold.”

“Your newspaper says the storm created a lot of damage all before midnight. A lot of homes lost power.”

“We didn't.”

“I heard an emergency vehicle go by and cut down into the park earlier. I bet Rock Creek is busting over its banks.”

“Maybe we could walk down later.”

“That's fine, but the walk back up is a bitch.

“You, my dear husband, are out of shape. We'll have to get you on my exercise regimen.”

“I'm not having a baby.”

“I'll make sure he or she runs you ragged. A little jogging three times a week will go a long way.”

“Oh, so you and our child are already teaming up against me, eh?”

“It will be for—” The phone rang. “That can't be Lassiter, it's Saturday.”

“Maybe it's for me.”

The phone rang again.

“I thought you only lived here. You take calls too?”

He picked up the phone. “Hello.” He paused and then stifled a laugh. He put his hand over the mouthpiece. “It is Lassiter.”

I almost spit out a piece of bagel.

“She's resting,” Jerry said.

I reached for the phone, but he moved away.

“Yes. Thanks.” He looked at the phone, startled. “She hung up.”

“She never says goodbye. Why couldn't I talk with her?”

“She didn't want to talk with you. Are you sitting down?”

Of course, I was pinned to the bed by a tray with four legs. “Jerry!”

“What?” he said nonchalantly.

I wanted to scream.

“Okay. Don't spill the tray. Police are investigating the killing of a woman whose body was found this morning dumped in Rock Creek Park, not more than a half mile from here, and it bears the signs of the serial killer. They'll know more in a couple of hours.”

“I've got to get dressed and—”

“No. Wilder is there. Lassiter asked that I chain you down. You're not to go into the office; she won't be there anyway. She would like you to stay close to Max by phone, but you are not to interfere with Wilder getting the story. She said you and she had talked about this arrangement.”

I leaned back. “Do you know how hard this is for me?”

“Hey. You're like an editor—you have reporters out collecting information. They write about the crime scene, but you will put the whole thing together.”

“That's easy for you to say.”

“Yeah, I thought I said that pretty well.”

I made like I was going to throw my coffee cup at him.

“She wants you to call her cell phone after you've talked with Max and he's told you things that he will not be telling the others. Now eat your breakfast. I'll warm up your decaf.”

He took the cup and went to the kitchen.

I sat and thought. “Bring my cell phone please when you come back in.”

“Will do.”

A third murder. Why now? The storm? There hadn't been a big storm for over two weeks. Maybe that was it. Abduct the women in driving rainstorms. Fewer people out. No one paying attention to anyone else, only concerned with his or her next step.

“Jerry, didn't it rain the nights the other killings took place?”

He came back in with two cups and a bagel on a saucer balanced on top of one.

“Here is your decaf, my dear. Let's see. The Saturday after the Vice President's reception, it rained most of the afternoon before we went down to
Scalawag
.”

“And it rained the night before I went to the doctor, when Thalma was killed. We haven't had any big storms since Janet's killing.”

“You saying the killer only goes out on rainy nights?”

“He's less likely to be seen.”

“See what Max thinks.”

T
raffic leading into Rock Creek Park would be easily controlled since Rock Creek Drive ran along the other side of the creek from the crime scene. And traffic coming upstream was not allowed to turn left onto Tilden Street to go up to Connecticut Avenue. They could only turn right and go up into Adams Morgan. Fallen trees farther upstream were preventing traffic from coming downstream.

As Max neared the media, they could not wait, yelling questions at him.

“What do you have?”

“Somebody saw the woman's guts.”

“Was this the serial killer?”

Max gave them the
calm down
gesture. They slowly acquiesced.

“It's Saturday morning, folks. No need to panic. We have a female of color, naked, and found face down. Yes, the EMT did see more, but I suggest you broadcast folks hold up on speculation. A forensics team and the ME are going over the body as I speak. There is no identification. Maybe you could call for coffee and donuts. There are a couple of good places in Cleveland Park. You could be in for a long morning.

“I'll allow a pool of four; a videographer and radio reporter, plus two print: AP and Wilder from the
Star
. Video and radio tapes will be shared with all stations.”

This is when Max missed Laura and her creative imagination.

He walked back through Parking Lot One with the four members of the media. As they arrived, some commotion came from the vicinity of the body. He told them to wait, and went to where the large tree branch was being lifted up to allow another to reach down and retrieve something.

“Captain.” A uniformed cop waved him over.

“Hayes?” The detective heard his name and joined his captain. They walked to the body that was now covered. “What do you have?”

“A side mirror from a van or small truck, Captain. Maybe from the perp's vehicle. It could have been thrown here at some other time too.”

“Treat it like a precious stone. How much of it is there?”

“The housing looks intact. It's scratched. I'd say all of it.”

“This may be our lucky day. Do those things have ID numbers on them?” Nobody was sure except Hayes, who believed they did. “Don't tell the media. Don't tell anybody,” he said firmly. “Hayes, go tell the reporters we believe we have a good imprint of a tire track. Make them shut up before you tell them and don't answer questions.”

The Washington metropolitan area was quickly informed by the broadcast media that a third woman had been added to the serial killer's list. Details were sketchy, but it appeared the woman's body had been eviscerated. No word yet as to whether she had been pregnant. Nevertheless, speculations were that she had been. The media also reported police may have found a clue at the scene, a tire track.

Max was mostly pleased with the media's cooperation. They speculated, but behaved. His cell phone rang. He looked at the display.

“W
hat took you so long?” Max said jocularly to Laura.
“I am chained to my bed.”
“I'm so glad Jer followed my advice. You're not missing a thing.” “Actually, I've been treated to breakfast in bed. Lassiter called. Is Wilder there?”

“Yes, and sober, I think. I made him a member of the pool.”

“Don't get too friendly with him.”

“Don't worry. He's very dull compared to you. Hold on, I'm going to move away from the crowd. We'll get some good tire tracks, a foot print too.”

“Enough to compare to the track you got at RFK?”

“That is correct. Maybe it's the terrain here, but this doesn't feel the same as the other two. I don't know. It's just a feeling, nothing I know.”

My adrenaline was kicking in. I was getting back into the action. “Careless would be good. What's the plan of action?”

“We wait for a detailed report on the body. She appears to be Latino. Considering Adams Morgan is up the hill to the south, she may live in the area. We'll check missing persons, canvas the area.”

“Black, white, Hispanic—an equal opportunity killer. I was wondering, while enjoying my breakfast in bed, about the coincidence that each of the killings had occurred during a major storm or heavy rain.”

“Good for cover,” he said flatly.

“That's what Jerry said. I find it interesting.”

“It is. I will ponder it in my quieter moments.”

“I'm really allowed out, so if something evolves where I would be better off at police headquarters, I would like to know it. I'll even bring my bodyguard.” I wrinkled my nose at Jerry.

“Being Saturday, things may not move as quickly as we would like. I will let you know. What were your plans for the day?”

“Hopefully, going out on
Scalawag
. I've seen more of the apartment than I need.”

“I'll call you on your cell.”

I
nstead of going directly to
Scalawag
, we decided to swing by the hospital to see Kat. Her mother was there, and Kat looked a little better in the face, which was about all that could be seen of her. Many new flower arrangements adorned the room. Mrs. Turner was quick to point out a lovely bouquet from the President and staff. Frankie Grayson had talked with Kat earlier.

I had a hard time remembering they were friends and had many things to talk about. My image and Kat's image of Frankie were at opposite ends of the pole. I felt Grayson misused her authority to satisfy personal needs. If Grayson were a commanding officer in the military, she'd have been court-martialed and imprisoned.

I had a short chat with Kat, while Jerry enjoyed talking with Mrs. Turner. We were interrupted a couple of minutes later when two men in dark suits entered. Their eyes quickly swept the room. “The Vice President,” one said.

A casually dressed Vice President walked in behind them, pausing when he saw the small group. “Good morning,” he said cheerily.

“Mr. Vice President. We met at the reception for your parents. Jerry Fields.”

Rick Grayson nodded.

I was glad the agents weren't the ones I'd encountered at Marsha's townhouse.

“I'm Laura Wolfe, Mr. Vice President. Jerry's wife. You've met Mrs. Turner?”

“Oh my, yes, and under happier circumstances, several times. How are you this morning, Mildred?”

She giggled. “Fine, sir, thank you.”

He smiled. “I'm sure Kat is receiving only the best of care.”

I thought Mrs. Turner would melt. He was charming. He moved to Kat's good side of the bed. Jerry and I stayed back. The agents were passive. Mrs. Turner went to the opposite side from the Veep.

“I'm afraid we don't know any more than we did yesterday about the driver,” Rick Grayson told Kat. “There doesn't seem to be any reason for why this happened or what caused him to go out of control like that. We have the FBI looking into it along with the local police.”

I felt a sting of electricity go through me when he mentioned the FBI. He knew the FBI was involved, but he had nothing to do with that. It was one of those little Inside-the-Beltway things. I realized Jerry was holding my hand because he squeezed it. He'd read my mind.

I quickly said, “We were just leaving. We'll say our goodbyes and come back soon.”

“Don't let me run you off.”

I smiled. “Oh no, we've been here long enough. It was nice seeing you again. I know how much your visits mean to Kat and Mrs. Turner.”

The VP returned my smile. “We're old friends.”

I felt a chill. Coming from him that could be a double entendre. I wanted to grimace, but managed a smile instead.

“I've heard.”

Jerry gently squeezed my arm. We said our goodbyes and left.