The Bloody Mary Diet: The Detective Adele Series Book 1 (5 page)

It almost sounded like something for the Center for Disease Control (CDC) except nothing could be found to c
ause the systems.  The most disturbing things that were noted on autopsy was that the bodies seemed to be more than one day dead and they all had the same very odd blood pooling pattern. The postmortem was consistent with a three or four day old corpse in all four cases.

No drugs, viral or bacterial illness. Not genetic because they were not related.  Just identical
patterns with no known cause.  This is the hardest part about Odd Squad.  You can’t go on TV and put out a warning that being in your early twenties, female, with light brown hair and eyes is killing people. Even if it is.

I asked Trevor if he had looke
d at the missing girl from 1998.  She matched our profile perfectly with the exception of no dead body.  Trevor reaches over and pulls down the visor mirror right in front of me.  Fuck.

I match
the victim profile perfectly. How had I not seen it?

Trevor and I are about to pull up at the station and he says he actually has one more thing.  He wants to go out tonight and talk about us.  I know he is right.  I need to face it.  Tonight it is. My secon
d first date in one day.  That’s way above average.

Lucky me.

Chapter 6: CONFESSIONS

I mention that I have never had two dates before in one day.  That is not really the whole story.  I have never had a date ever. As
in not even one.  When you are as messed up as I am you are not doing anyone a favor by starting a relationship with them.  I don’t pull around baggage I pull around a supernatural tractor trailer.

Reasons Catherine Olivia Adele Does Not Date:

1. I am a witch who will probably eventually be insane.
   
2. Gran is a witch,
   completely insane and I live with her.
   
3. Auntie Charlie is a mostly insane witch.
   
4. We have a dead house keeper, as in ghost, that you can see. Most people do not deal well with seeing her. Her name is Molly.
   
5. We all drink too much.
   
6. My mother is an evil bitch.
   
7. Lots of other reasons that I will list later.
   

Tonight I will go out with Trevor and we will talk about whatever he wants and I do not envy him in the least.

As soon as Trevor asks me out I accept because we are at the s
tation and he drops me off.  He is actually smiling.  I feel sorry for him but it’s not like he has not been warned.  He even knows Gran and Charles.  He can read minds for goodness sake.  If that is not enough to scare him away what more can anyone do.  Complete lack of self preservation instinct in someone that old is rare but it does happen.  What can I do?  Who is really the victim here?  I would like to say it is me. I can’t, but I really would like to.

Anyway, back to the case at hand, literally. I grab my coffee and four donuts and head to my office with the idea that I will be digging through three sets of phone records looking for a needle in a haystack. Not even a little.  Vic 4’s records are in my In Box with the other envelope and as soon as I open them I see a pattern and it is not at all subtle.  All four girls in the days before they died stopped answering calls on their cell phones and started calling the same number.  All four called the same number sometimes as often as 60 or 70 times a day. Weekends, nights, all the time and just the one number over and over. 

I pick up my phone and dial the number. A receptionist picks up the phone on the other end and says:

“St. Agnes University, Nursing Sciences Building, Mary Speaking, how may I direct your call
?”

This i
s way, way too easy.  I identify myself as a police officer with the San Francisco, PD and ask if she would mind answering a couple of questions.  She pauses and then says it would probably be okay.

“Have you received a number of strange, repetitive calls over the last three
weeks?”

“Oh my
God, yes!!” apparently Mary is glad someone else is concerned about the calls.  She sounds relieved.

“Can you tell me what w
as odd about the calls?” I ask.

Mary’s voice gets really quiet and she seems to be concerned she will
be overheard. “It’s a girl.  She calls over and over from the same number for days and then it just stops.  A day or two later she starts again two or three times an hour from the time I get here till the time I leave.  I have tried to give her his direct line but he won’t take her calls and she won’t take his number.  It almost seems like she can’t.  Like I am confusing her by offering.”

“Who’s direct number?” I ask.

Mary pauses, I knew it was too good to be true. She seems to realize she has said more then she should have and says that she has to go.  Before I can ask anything else she hangs up. Our dead girls know someone at the school, someone in the Nursing Science building. A man. And he doesn’t want to talk to her. More then I knew before but not a name by any stretch.

I hop on my computer and access the university staffing office computer.  We have the most awesome IT department ever, no need for a warrant when IT can just prop open the back door. I will buy them donuts.

The staff at the University is big but when you narrow it down to men in nursing sciences it becomes much smaller.  In fact at the Nursing Science building there are only eight.  If I narrow the search further to men who have been there since 1998 it goes down to three.  I am not a seer but I know in my heart that the missing girl from 15 years ago is related and she is the one that will tie them all together. One of these guys knows what is happening and why.  Now all I have to do is get him to tell me.

I don’t want to bother Trevor so I get a cab to the University.  It is early February and it is wicked cold and damp.  Plus I am once again in heals and a short skirt so I am totally not walking. 

In fact maybe instead of buying the guys in IT donuts I can just go down there and drop some pencils and turn around to pick them up.  That would cost less and they will probably like it more anyway.  I will do it as soon as I get back. I give myself props for being so thoughtful.

I have the cabbie drop me off at the N
ursing Science Building and as I walk up to the door I notice a girl standing in front staring at the building.  She does not have on a jacket, she is wearing long pants, a long sleeve shirt and shades. To be specific she has on a purple sweat shirt, jeans, and house slippers with socks. Her hair looks like it has not been combed in a week.  It is so foggy out that the shades are covered condensation.  Who is responsible for this fashion tragedy being out in public?

There is a receptionist desk just inside the front door and a middle age woman that I bet is Mary sitting at it. I might have to talk to her latter.
I have pictures of the five girls, the missing one and the four dead that I printed up before I left. I can show them to her. There is even a chance she was here in 1998. I should have checked. I look at the name plat on her desk. Mary Visardi, I can check that out latter.

I walk over
and look at the office board. All three of my guys are on the second floor of the three story building.  Only one flight of stairs for me…Hurray!!!  It’s the small victories.

I write down the room numbers and hurry up the stairs.  This will be knocked out and I will be back at the station in time to show the IT guys my panties before they leave for the day. I mentally
congratulate myself because saying it out loud always draws attention.

The first door I come to is a Dr. Jonathan M. Norris, M.D.
, PhD. He is about a million years old and a bit hard of hearing.  I finally do get his attention and he does seem happy to see me which is nice.  I introduce myself and offer my hand.  He rises with some effort, introduces himself and shakes my hand.  I can’t really read a live person but if he feels guilty about anything I can’t feel it. I reach a little deeper and still feel nothing. He is totally clean. I ask him if he knows where Dr. Edward Murphy’s office is and after some thought he says no and offers to call the receptionist for me. I thank him and make a dash for it before he can.  One down, two to go.

The second office is only two door
s down from Dr. Norris.  The man inside is not as old but not nearly as nice either.  His door is open so I step inside and tap on the door jam.  He looks at me as if I have just committed an egregious social error and he pities me for my ignorance almost as much as he hates me for existing.  I smile as if I don’t notice, hold out my hand and introduce myself as Robin Williams. This confuses him just enough to shake my hand and that gives me all I need.  He is an asshole but he is not our guy.  He does not feel anything close to guilt.  Just bitterness and a healthy dose of self loathing but nothing to indicate serial killer. Not by a long shot.  I smile and walk away just because I don’t feel like being polite to Dr. Yucky.

And now there is one.
  Lawrence McNeal, PhD. Biology. He is in the large corner office, how very prestigious.  I walk to the end of the hall and find his office dark and the door locked.  It is just after 4pm.  As I turn away I see a woman walking into the office next to him. She seems friendly enough and I brave a question.

“I am sorry to bother you but do you have any idea when Dr. McNeal might be in his office?”

She looks at the closed door to the dark room and shrugs.  “Your guess is as good as mine but I wouldn’t wait.  He is not teaching this semester and he is not here on a regular basis. I saw him yesterday so today is out of the question. He never bothers with two days in a row.  Tenure is a bitch.  If you really need to reach him he lives just across from campus.”

I thank her and hurry off.  Back down the stairs and right before I go back out into the cold wet I look up Dr. McNeal’s home address on my phone.  She was right.  It is across the street.  As in I walk out the door and I am looking at it. I am also looking at the fashion tragedy that I passed earlier.  Still standing in exactly the same place.  I don’t think she has moved so much as a finger since I went inside thirty minutes ago. I am staring at her and she lowers her head and looks at me above the dark glasses. 
Her retina’s look milky white even from here. Her eyes look just like the ones in the coroner’s photos. Fuck.

In addition to being a fashion tragedy she is completely not there.  Not even a little.  She raises her head and smiles at me.  Or what I assume she means to be a smile. It seems very forced and shows way too many teeth.  I walk past her and give her plenty of room.  She doesn’t even turn her head to watch me.  When I look back she is still standing there looking at the building.  The second floor corner office if I am not mista
ken and I am not. I have my guy.

I just have to prove it.

I cross the street to Dr. McNeal’s house and it is for sale.  It looks abandoned.  The yard is overgrown and there are at least fifteen newspapers in the yard.  It probably hasn’t been painted for twenty years. A realtor’s lock box hangs on the front door handle.  Good luck with that.

I walk around to the side and the gate is standing open. I don’t even think about it I just walk though and into the back yard.  The
overwhelming feeling of dread hits me as soon as I pass the gate.  Something is wrong here.  Very, very wrong.  Everything in this yard is dead.  Even the evergreens.  But it is more than that, the whole place reeks of evil.  I can’t stay here much longer.

As I am turning to leave the panic is building in my chest and I am starting to feel sick and at just the right moment my cell phone rings.
Holly shit!!! I have got to turn that down and figure out how to change my ring tone. “Crazy Frog” was a bad choice. I grab it as I walk out and it is Trevor.  He is waiting out front.  I ask him how he found me and he says that he looked through the auto redial on my phone and the science building was the first one. He is looking towards campus when I walk out and the girl is still there. Only now she is starting to cross the street straight for me.  She stops about a foot away and says, “Smart little witch.”

I think she would have said more but then the smell hits me and I step back. Right into Trevor.
She is rancid. He is glaring at her and she seems to crumble under his stare. She shuffles away talking to herself and does not look back. Holly shit.  I think we just met vic 5.

Trevo
r opens the door and I get in. He says we are going on our date early.  He already told Jan we would not be back. I am fine with that.  I probably could not really think anyway.  The dead girl is pissed at me. Awesome.

As we drive I fill in Trevor on what I have learned today about Mary, the receptionist, the
pattern of the phone calls and the two men I ruled out.  Dr. McNeil is the last person we discus and I look him up on the lap top as Trevor drives. 

Dr. McNeil graduated with a
PhD. in Micro Biology from the University of Berlin in 1978.  He came to work at St. Agnes at age twenty four and has never left.  His wife, Gretchen, came with him from Germany and they purchased the house he still resides in 1980.  Gretchen McNeil died of complications due to pregnancy in 1999. Dr. McNeil was born in 1953, army brat. Gretchen Hendler was born in 1960. 

Trevor nodded
and said nothing.  When I look up we are in the hills outside of town.  I had not been paying attention while I was talking and researching and I had no idea where we were. Trevor says we will be at his house in a few minutes.  I thought we were going out to dinner but that would be silly I guess. Vampires don’t eat at restaurants. We pull into a private drive that leads to an amazing home that had to be built in the early 1800’s.  I don’t even know what style to call it. Federal would probably be the closest (red brick with white granite accents on the windows and doors) but it is very ornate and has tons of fancy brick work with spiral chimneys, arched windows, a huge front stair way and stained glass double doors. It’s like what the governor’s mansion would probably look like in Wonderland. It has round turrets on either side and a huge fountain takes up a large part of the front yard.  It is beautiful.