The Beholder, a Maddie Richards Mystery (11 page)

Soon thereafter, it dawned on Maddie that if she ever took a bullet that required stripping her lower half, the word would get out and her departmental nickname would forever be Straight Arrow.

The phone pulled her back from her memories. When she heard Gary’s voice, she briefly considered opening the blinds and flashing him a full frontal.

He asked her about her day. She told him what she could, which wasn’t much beyond what had been reported. Fifteen minutes later, she terminated the conversation, still dissatisfied with the pace at which their relationship was moving forward.

Chapter 14

Station house coffee existed to brace detectives having to interrogate someone they’d rather just beat the crap out of, or when pulling back-to-back shifts, or facing inquisitions by internal affairs, known as IA. Maddie’s situation was close enough, so she got a dark blue cup, filled it with coffee that more plopped than poured, and sat waiting for the call summoning her to Chief Layton’s office.

The call came after her first sip. She put her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk and headed down the hall. On the way, she saw Dink resting against the door jamb to the breakroom, his hand around his daily chocolate-covered bismark, his tongue reaming out the custard.

“You look delicious, Maddie,” Dink said before audibly swallowing and then walking off with his typical swagger. His stride gradually drew his pants deeper into his butt crack, causing his cuffs to ride up exposing his white socks. The man was a twit, but a connected twit, so some restraint was necessary but there was just so much she was willing to take, and he had just passed that threshold.

“Fuck you, Dink,” she said, without caring that several other officers were within hearing distance.

“Ah, Maddie is it that time of the month?” he grinned.

“Yeah, Dink,” Maddie said in a matter of fact voice. “I’m on the rag, okay. Now get off my ass or I’ll whip it out and stick it on your forehead.”
Sorry, Mom.
That had been over the top, but Dink’s remarks were getting old and his behavior intolerable.

Okay, Chief, Maddie thought, bring it on.

***

Chief Layton was well known for not tolerating long meetings, felt they wasted time and only made it harder when he got to the point. One thing in his office hinted at the sumo-built man’s humanity, a small basketball hoop attached to the top of his wastebasket in the corner.

Maddie smiled briefly with the realization that the man never fully escapes the boy.

The chief made no gesture for Maddie to sit. He just sat there looking at her with a stare that could soften blacktop. Then he began.

“Sergeant Richards, the word is you’ve made no progress in catching this serial killer everybody’s now calling the Beholder. None. Zip. I can take the pressure off you by putting Lieutenant Harrison in charge.”

Standing and looking down at the chief’s bald head made her wonder if this was how an aircraft carrier looked to a fighter pilot coming out of the clouds, sweat in his eyes, one engine gone, and enough fuel to make only one attempt at a dry landing.

“That’s your call, sir,” she heard herself say, “but I don’t recommend it. The city might think you’re playing politics.”

“I can figure the angles, Sergeant,” he said, drumming his fingers on the desk blotter.

“In accordance with your earlier announcement, Lieutenant Harrison has rearranged the department’s workload. The Beholder is the only case my partner and I are working, as well as Brackett and his partner, and, ah, um, Archibald Nigh. As yet I’ve made no use of Archie.”

“Well, find something,” the chief snapped. “He’s on your squad to stay.”

Archibald Nigh had a thin waist, wide shoulders, and except for a light five-o’clock shadow, the skin of a debutante. He also had the detective’s shield he had acquired following a brief, inglorious time in the ranks. His attitude toward the job reflected his unspoken conviction that completing college, being gorgeous, and being the grandson of an Arizona Supreme Court judge should be enough. So far it had been.

“I’ve asked Lieutenant Harrison to shift Sue Martin from patrol to the Beholder squad,” Maddie continued. “I’ll use her to run down loose ends and assist with administration. Brackett is coordinating an effort by the vice guys to check all known sex offenders. That’s not promising. The Beholder’s M.O. doesn’t match up with any of our knowns.”

“Sue Martin’s a uniform cop. Why not use a detective?”

“We have many fine detectives, sir, but with so many of us working only the Beholder case, they’re already spread thin. I know Officer Martin. I know what she can do, and what she can’t. That counts at a time like this. There’s one Beholder and, with Officer Martin, five of us. The odds are in our favor, sir.”

The chief pointed at her with a nicotine-stained index finger. “With Archie Nigh you’ve got six. But this Beholder knows the where, when, and who of his next strike. Those odds are in his favor. Wouldn’t you say, Sergeant?”

“Heavily in his favor, sir.” Maddie wished she had never uttered the dorky remark.

“The facts support you keeping the lead,” the chief said, flashing one of his rare smiles. “But I need results. So think of my decision as fluid. Understood?”

“Understood, sir.” Maddie turned toward the door. The chief’s words brought her up short.

“Sergeant, I’m assuming you’ve considered requesting a profiler from the FBI Behavioral Sciences Unit?”

“The Behavior Analysis Unit, sir.”

“Whatever.”

“Yes, I have.”

Chief Layton’s dark eyes poked like thumbtacks. “Do it. Today. I don’t like those glory-grabbing sons and daughters of bitches, but they are the experts at this sort of thing. Get them involved pronto. And don’t forget Mayor Jensen’s press conference at City Hall this afternoon. Two-thirty.”

“I didn’t know anything about it.”

“Him and me and you. Be there. We need to tell the city something after that friend of yours shot off her mouth. We’ll announce a hotline on the case. You can use Archie on that.”

“Good idea, sir.”

The chief’s jowls pulsed while he fixed his eyes on her with what Brackett once described as the chief’s, I’m-ready-to-rip-off-your-balls-and-watch-you-eat-them stare.

Maddie briefly wondered how her mother would have her say that in lady talk.

“Did you have anything to do with this Carson broad getting the inside scoop?”

“No sir.” Maddie clenched the palms of her hands. “Carson called me last night after she got off the air. She wants me to meet her for lunch today.”

“I assume you turned her down and were none too polite about it?”

“Actually, Sir, I figured I’d go.” Maddie shifted to a sort of parade-rest stance. “In the long view, she made a good public argument for us getting more homicide detectives. In the short view, she knows more and I’d like to find out where she got the information.”

His eyes narrowed. “What else could she have?”

“That the victims had their faces skinned and breasts removed. I hope to make a deal so she won’t use that in a second Katie Carson Special Report.”

“Make the offer.” The chief ran his hand over his private flight deck. “I’ll okay Officer Martin joining your squad. If you need more manpower as it unfolds, see Lieutenant Harrison.”

Maddie had landed the burning plane on the deck of the carrier and she was still behind the throttle, at least for now. Then the chief closed the meeting with all the warmth of a lynch mob.

“Sergeant, this one’s a career maker, or breaker. Get me?”

Chapter 15

Lincoln Rogers was a top FBI profiler at the Bureau’s Behavioral Analysis Unit and their Child Abduction and Serial Murder Investigative Resource Center (CASMIRC). Linc had been Maddie’s instructor two years earlier when she had taken profile training for law enforcement officers at the FBI Academy on the U.S. Marine Base at Quantico, Virginia.

Most local cops didn’t cotton to the FBI. The way Maddie saw it, the friction was rooted in jealousy over the Feebs seemingly unlimited budget, but mostly it was the Bureau’s penchant for being pushy and domineering. It was true that she had met some arrogant pricks in the FBI, but, hey, she’d met a few here in her own department. And that didn’t count the women who lacked the anatomical equipment, but otherwise qualified. And for the moment, that subgroup included Katie Carson.

Lincoln Rogers had taught Maddie that murder scenes told a lot about serial killers. These meticulous killers carefully orchestrated what would be left behind and how it would be arranged. The scene was their private world and they revealed extreme cupidity in its control. Maddie already had some ideas, but she knew Linc would see things she had not.

The Beholder clearly wanted to demonstrate he could take his time stealing these women’s beauty. And what conclusion should be drawn from the fact that while he stripped them of our society’s central symbol of feminine sexuality, he neither took nor touched their vaginas.

Lincoln Rogers came on the line. After sharing pleasantries he told her he had watched a tape of Katie Carson’s news special that had been forwarded to him by the special agent in charge of the FBI’s Phoenix field office. He had already decided to come to Phoenix.

“What if I hadn’t called to request your help?”

“I’d have called you. I’ve been waiting for an excuse to see you. I’m only sorry it took such an ugly situation to bring us together again.”

She moved the phone to her other ear and passed a note telling Jed to round up Brackett, Amun, and Sue Martin. Jed gave her a half-ass salute.

Maddie was still talking with Linc when Jed came in followed by Brackett and Sue. She kept her eye on Brackett; the jerk she figured had hung the witch’s broom in her office. She had considered gouging the handle to raise splinters and shoving it up his ass, but then decided to play the good cop and consider him innocent till proven guilty.

“Which of them might be violent?”Jed said, handing Brackett a copy of Popcorn’s list of Folami’s regular customers. “Have any disappeared? Are any of these guys known sex offenders?” Then Jed added, “Given the absence of any sex acts at the murder scenes, I doubt you’ll find our perp on that list. But those guys run in circles where they might hear something. We want you to shake their trees so we can see what falls.”

Maddie saw Brackett glance at the broom and smirk, and right then she knew he was guilty. She would hang the broom in his office after solving the case.

After Linc promised he would send his travel itinerary once it was set, Maddie hung up.

“Where’s Amun?” Maddie asked Brackett.

“He’s on a hotline call from someone claiming to know the Beholder, but he gave me the sign. It’s bull. Archie’s first up. He takes most of those calls, but Amun took this one. We’re getting as many kooks as Dallas got after the Kennedy assassination, and the media has yet to give the hotline heavy play. When that happens, the phone traffic will pick up even more.”

Maddie knew that hotlines did little more than reassure the community through demonstrating a sense of police commitment, but there have been cases where the case breaker came through an anonymous call. Each hotline call would be taken seriously.

Maddie pointed at Sue. “Your priority is to find out what Folami Stowe was wearing the day of her death. Then find that outfit. Jed and Brackett will get you a list of people who might have seen her that day.”

Sue scribbled a few notes. “I’m on it, Ma’am.”

Maddie gave Sue a tone-down-the-formality look, and then turned to Brackett.

“Stop to see Popcorn and his secretary, Scarlett. Find out if she has any other names to add to the list Jed gave you of the customers Folami serviced the day of her death. Then pass on what you find out to Sue.”

Maddie turned to face Sue. “Interview each of those folks. Find out what Folami was wearing when she arrived, if she was wearing anything different when she left, and the time she came and went. Also, any special outfit she might have worn during her visit. First priority is to identify and find her outfit, but while you’re at it build a timeline for her date of death.”

“But I heard Victim Stowe hadn’t had sex for at least twenty-four hours,” Sue said, her body language showing her obvious confusion.

“Not all tricks want sex,” Brackett explained. “Some just want to talk, while others want to dance. We had one john who paid a hooker to sit naked and play gin rummy. Not all sex is genital, but it’s all mental.”

Sue blushed and scribbled a few more notes on her pad.

Maddie, needing to get to the restaurant to meet Katie Carson, opened the low drawer in her desk, grabbed her purse and stood.

“Sue, go over Abigail Knight’s checking account and her credit cards with an eye for dry cleaners, and if you still haven’t found the blue dress she wore the day she died, canvas the dry cleaners within eight miles of Knight’s residence. Check with Marta, the Knight’s maid, to find out which cleaners she took the Knights things to. Call Dr. Knight and ask him if he knows which dry cleaner his wife might have used or if he ever took his wife’s things to the cleaners on the way to his office, and …”

Maddie saw the confusion on Sue’s face and paused by the door. “Look,” she said, “this is where I’m going on this. If you can’t find the clothes either of our victims was wearing, the Beholder’s fetish may include taking more than just breasts. Got it?” Sue nodded and Maddie said, “I’m outta here.”

The tires on Maddie’s Ford Taurus left rubber in the police parking lot when she pulled out onto Washington Street and headed for lunch with the lady who had stirred up the city’s latent fears.

In the distance she heard the church clock strike noon. It would take her seven minutes to drive to Durants. Seven minutes, she didn’t have.

Chapter 16

Maddie parked on a residential street behind Durants and headed for the restaurant at a half run, her short midday shadow staying slightly ahead of her. Rounding a corner her feet slipped in a pile of dogshit and she fell to the sidewalk. The crap not on the sole or side of her left shoe had smeared her linen pant leg as high up as her knee. She got to her feet and looked down at herself.