Scent of Murder (16 page)

Now, dressed in casual clothes, with Smarty sleeping comfortably in the corner, Claire pored through reports, occasionally chatting with Fusco. She felt like a guilty mother dragging Smarty into the D-bureau and making him wait for her rather than sleep on his favorite rug or on the bed. He never let on that he minded, and she appreciated his attentive glances in between short naps.

Fusco said, “I like the idea of making a lawyer meet us at the sheriff's office after eight o'clock. It makes us a little OT but also seems to annoy the attorney.”

Claire said, “He won't come up here, will he?”

“Oh, hell no. We'll go down and talk to him in the lobby.”

“You want me to go with you?” This was not what she had been assigned to do. She wasn't complaining, it was just surprising.

“Absolutely. You can never meet with an attorney by yourself. They'll twist your words and say all kinds of shit in court if it helps their client. The typical defense attorney cares more about winning the case than anything else. It's their livelihood. That's why there are so many jokes about them.” Fusco stretched in his chair and said, “You know how you can tell when the defense attorney is lying?”

Claire shook her head.

“Their lips are moving.”

Claire gave him a smile at that one. Then the phone rang and the secretary said there was someone in the lobby for Fusco.

*   *   *

Claire didn't like waking Smarty, but she didn't want to leave him unattended in the detective bureau either. Fusco liked the idea of the fearsome-looking Shepherd coming with them, and it made her feel like at least she was utilizing Smarty in accordance with the federal grant.

As they walked down the stairwell, Fusco said, “This time of night there's no one around, and I don't like bringing lawyers into the detective bureau. It's also a way to show slight regard for the attorney and his family.”

As soon as they stepped through the downstairs stairwell door, Claire saw an average-looking man about thirty, dressed in a suit with a loosened tie. The man appeared tired and more than a little frustrated. She did like that his eyes flicked down to Smarty at her side, but he didn't make a comment. She knew this was Arnold Ludner's son Joe. She had been trying to figure out the family dynamic that sent two brothers into the drug business and one to an extra three years of college.

The first thing Fusco said was, “I thought your father was coming with you.”

The lawyer hesitated slightly, perhaps giving Fusco an insight into what was happening. “I thought it was best if I talk to you before I brought my dad in.”

“Why is that?”

“Because of some of the tactics your detectives have used in the past. It traumatized him.”

“As badly as he traumatized the little girl he left in the woods?”

“I don't know if it's appropriate to get into that right now.”

“You're the one who brought it up, counselor. I didn't call you to exchange pleasantries. I said I needed to talk to your father, and I was giving you the courtesy of calling you about it first.”

“I would hardly call the right to counsel a courtesy, or are you not familiar with the Constitution?”

“Are you familiar with the concept of a registered sexual offender?”

“Apparently more familiar than you. My father is no longer on probation. All he has to do is advise you of his residence, and you are allowed to check to make sure he lives at the residence. You don't have a right to search his house, and you certainly don't have a right to order him to talk to you like he was some kind of lifelong indentured servant.”

Claire felt Smarty ease forward as he sensed the growing tension in the conversation. Fusco's voice had raised enough to catch the attention of two young women waiting in the lobby near the front door.

Then Fusco gave the attorney his own smirk and said, “I guess I'll just be going past your dad's house until I can verify that he's there.”

The attorney started to say something. Fusco interrupted him.

“I believe this meeting is over, counselor.” He turned and shoved the door that went into the stairwell. Claire paused a moment, looking at the speechless attorney, who was now completely focused on Smarty. She let out one of her low-pitched musical notes, and Smarty knew to give him a good snarl with a complete showing of his front teeth.

As Claire and Smarty turned to follow Fusco upstairs, she felt like she had contributed something to the encounter.

 

16

Hallett liked how Lori had casually taken the seat next to him and let him order her a beer. She was in a pretty print sundress and looked like she was at a resort in the Caribbean the way she leaned back in the chair and sipped her Corona. He still kept thinking about poor Claire having to spend time with John Fusco.

Lori said, “You guys meet like this often?”

“Sometimes, but we always meet after a…”

A smile spread over her pretty face as she said, “After a what?”

Hallett hesitated.

Just her inquiring look pushed him to answer. He sighed and said, “After one of the dogs bites someone.” A moment later he added, “Sorry, that's a little morbid, isn't it?”

“I've worked here for years in a couple of different units, and they all have their little wacky rituals. The SWAT guys celebrate after they're able to use flash-bangs. Some of the patrol units have a drink after a new guy has his first fight. Even the computer guys celebrate when they crack the password on a seized computer. And the narcotics guys, forget about it. They celebrate every arrest and drug seizure. They're out almost every night.”

Every police agency Hallett was familiar with had at least a few legendary narcotics agents. They modeled themselves after an earlier generation of hard-working/hard-drinking zealots. There were even some hotels that refused to host the annual convention for the Narcotics Officers Association. The story of them dumping a grand piano into a fountain at a Hilton in Orlando was enough to scare any hotel manager.

Hallett said, “When do crime scene techs celebrate?”

“When one of us gets a better job.”

They both laughed at that.

Lori said, “Seriously, we all try to better ourselves. I have an application in with the FBI and the new Department of Homeland Security evidence unit.”

“Why do they need evidence? I thought they did mostly immigration and customs stuff.”

“Still need forensics. And they pay well.” Then Lori sat up in her chair, leaning in close to Hallett, and said, “You want to go somewhere else for a drink? Maybe get away from every single person we work with?”

Hallett wanted to, but he looked over his shoulder at his Tahoe holding Rocky and thought about the day he had planned with Josh. Then he said, “I wish I could, but I have an early day tomorrow.”

“How long is your shift?”

“I'm not working tomorrow; I'm picking up my son first thing in the morning.”

He couldn't tell from her expression if she was surprised, disappointed, or intrigued. But she certainly had caught his interest.

*   *   *

Although Kim Cooper occupied his mind more often than he would admit, Darren Mori didn't want her to think he was a stalker. Since he had met her two days ago, he had tried to find reasons to go by the airport. He had not seen her at the counter again and was beginning to think he'd have to ask someone at the Hertz desk about her.

But tonight, wearing the casual clothes he had worn to the bar and leaving Brutus comfortably in the back of his issued Tahoe, Darren saw Kim behind the counter talking to a man in a suit who looked quite agitated.

Now he worried that she would be too occupied to speak to him, and he didn't want to seem needy by waiting. He even worried for a moment that she wouldn't recognize him out of uniform. But as he approached, Kim looked over and smiled at him, then said to the business traveler, “If I give you a Lincoln Town Car instead of a midsize, will that make you happy?”

The man looked shocked and said, “Yeah, sure. What do I have to do?”

Kim slapped a set of keys on the counter, told the man the location of the car, and said, “You have to pick up the car in the next three minutes.”

“What do I have to sign?”

Kim showed her frustration and said, “Nothing, you're all set. Just bring it back in three days.”

The man virtually sprinted from the counter, leaving Kim with a broad smile as she said, “This is a very nice surprise, Deputy Mori. I was hoping I might run into you again.”

Darren tried to contain his glee at her pleasant greeting. He jumped right to it and said, “When do you get off?”

Kim casually said, “Usually about ten minutes after I start.”

Darren was shocked and knew that he was blushing.

Kim gave him a playful smile and said, “You're cute. I finish work in about fifteen minutes. And I would love to go anywhere for a quick bite to eat.”

Suddenly Darren didn't care that he had missed Smarty's bite. He'd rather have a bite with Kim. This was turning into a pretty good day.

*   *   *

Junior gained more confidence with every newscast that went by without mentioning Tina Tictin. He checked the
Palm Beach Post
Web site, too. Nothing yet. Now he was getting annoyed at her mother. Had the woman not even reported her daughter missing yet? Maybe he had done Tina a favor.

He also checked the detailed
Palm Beach Post
crime blotter and found no mention of a truck burglary at the Home Depot lot. It was starting to look like he was a genius. Even if they did find a way to track down Tina's body, there was absolutely no evidence to connect it to him. And he knew the cops had suspects in the other kidnappings already.

Junior couldn't believe how much time his obsession now took up. He had never acted on his urges to teach young women the pleasure of oral sex until a few years ago. At least with this new fetish. It was almost like his previous life, the one before now, hadn't existed except to point him in this direction. Even his earlier memories were hazy. This had focused him.

The prostitutes he had paid for never wanted him to do it or seemed to think they were too good to show appreciation. He had a hard time finding ones with the right look for it to be exciting. Then he got the idea to do it forcibly. It was just a joke at first. Then he started to fantasize about it. The satisfaction he'd felt from these fantasies was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. That lasted more than a year, until he started to envision specific girls. At first it was just girls he'd see at the mall or on the street. Then he found himself frequenting the places young women tended to congregate.

Then he noticed a neighbor's daughter. Her name was Melanie, and he was under the impression she was only nineteen. That taught him a lot about his own interests. It was then he knew he was stuck on the idea of a young woman he could dominate. Not just when they were alone but without her knowing it. He didn't care about the age of consent. He loved that elegant phrase that no longer applied in most states. To him it was someone unsuspecting. It represented innocence. It represented the drug he needed to make himself feel important.

It was just chance that the first girl he picked was eighteen. She looked younger. But once he identified her, he stalked her quietly, using both the computer and his ability to blend in. He was all stealth and had learned a few tricks along the way. He realized no one had ever noticed him in his whole life, and now he was using that to his advantage. His father's voice nagging him to do something with his life would fade. Maybe for only a few minutes, but it got out of his head.

It had taken more than a month of constant surveillance for Junior to build up the courage to act. He had taken her as she walked home from a bus stop. It was so much easier than he thought it would be. He just waited in the right spot and stayed behind her. He kept her looking forward and used the simplest of blindfolds: a Carnival Cruise Lines sleep mask with a strip of duct tape to hold it in place. He had learned to make more effective blindfolds, but that one worked for his first try.

He had never thought about hurting the girl physically. He had the Beretta with him and let her know, but it was purely to intimidate. He took her to a nearby wooded area he had scoped out, kept her there for more than an hour and a half, then left the girl, naked, not three miles from her house. He left her without clothes because he thought it would keep her from just running away as soon as he left. From reading the news accounts he wasn't sure how long she had stayed, but it was clear the local cops had no idea who had done it.

After that, his fantasy life improved so dramatically he didn't think he'd ever have to risk grabbing another girl. But after many months the urge started to come over him again, and he realized it was pushing him to kidnap another girl. The risk never entered his mind.

Along the way he discovered his own pattern, his cover, so to speak, by accident. But it was working. Now he had taken it all the way and felt the ultimate thrill. He had felt the power of life and death and had seen the look in Tina Tictin's eyes as his hands slowly cut off any chance she would have of growing old. And he had found in in one day. Astounding.

He wanted to capitalize on his good luck. He could still act, there was time. And if he did it right, he wouldn't draw any attention to himself once again. But this time it was different. He had satisfied his needs with Tina and didn't need to be rushed. He wanted to enjoy the chase as much its results.

He'd been sitting in front of his computer and considering the incredible number of possibilities. It took some time to do the background and figure out ages and relationships, but computers were a wonderful thing and made his job that much easier.

He found a candidate. An excellent candidate. He opened a browser and navigated to Facebook. The name wouldn't have many matches. He typed in slowly “Swirsky Florida.” With the touch of a button he had a perfect photo of Michelle Swirsky posing with three friends at one of the local beaches. He smiled when he looked at her pretty face and saw that she was a cute, athletic-looking nineteen-year-old.