The Devil's Water: Scenic City Murder Series #1 (2 page)

Mclutcheon rubbed the whiskers on his chin. He leaned back in his chair and glanced up at the fluorescent lights above.

He was sure Skopic would want to keep this in house. “No need to get a bunch of agencies involved in this” Skopic would say. But what if it continued?

There was no way to keep a lid on it for very long, especially with Hank Gamblin sniffing around.

“Shit.” Mclutcheon announced aloud. He picked the phone back up and dialed Skopic.

“Hello?”

“Listen chief. I have an idea.”

CHAPTER 3

Tasha Yoder felt like shit. She lay on her back in bed and prayed she wouldn’t puke. Her eyes were closed and she planned on keeping them that way for the rest of her life. She swallowed hard and realized her tongue felt like a shag carpet and tasted like an ashtray. Somewhere, the phone was ringing. Tasha opened one eye a crack and noticed that her alarm clock read 11:15. Beside the clock sat a half empty bottle of tequila. She had the vague sense that the tequila was only part of what she had drunk the night before.

There was a tap on her closed bedroom door. “Are you gonna get that?” someone was saying. Tasha reached for the .38 on her bedside table. She had no idea who was in her house but she lived alone. “Open the door.” She ordered aiming the gun directly at it. In a second, the door swung open and a young man clad in a pair of cut off jean shorts and no shirt entered the room. His eyes bulged when he saw the gun. “Jesus Christ! What are you doing?” he said. He stepped back out of the doorway and took cover. “Who are you?” she asked still aiming the gun at him. “I’m Ray. We met last night. Remember?” Tasha tried to run the events of the night before through her head but she was drawing a blank. “We met down at Malone’s. We talked for awhile and you invited me here.” He continued. “Come on. Put the gun down.” He pleaded. He took one step back into the room and Tasha noticed how young he was. She could see the blonde peach fuzz on his chin as he trembled. He probably wasn’t even 25 years old. She lowered the gun and he let out a huge breath in relief.

“Sorry.” she said as he watched her put the gun back on the bedside table. He walked over to the foot of the bed and sat down. He was really kind of cute. She wished she remembered more of the previous evening. “Yeah. The phone’s been ringing all morning. Same number. Somebody is really trying to get hold of you.”

“They’ll call back.” She said standing up and almost falling. “Whoa!” he said. “Listen, you oughta go easy. You drank a lot last night.” He put a hand on her arm trying to steady her. She sat back down on the bed. It really hadn’t even dawned on her that she was sitting there completely nude.

“Listen, you wanna go get something to eat?” he asked as she looked down and noticed her saggy breasts. The thought of food brought on a wave of nausea. She glanced back up into his blue eyes. “No. I can’t eat right now.”

“Okay”

“Look Ray. I’m sure you’re a nice guy and I’m sure we had a really good time last night but you have to go.” She stood up and wrapped the bed sheet around her naked body.

“Well, will I see you again?” Ray asked as he watched her move toward the bathroom.

“Don’t know. You go to Malone’s much?”

“Well now that I’m 21 I will.” He said smiling.

Oh dear God,
she thought as she tried to brush her hair. “Well, Ray. Why don’t you let yourself out and I’ll see you later.”

“Catch you later.” He called. In a few seconds she heard the front door open and close. She gazed in the bathroom mirror at herself. She looked like she’d been on a serious bender and for good reason. She couldn’t recall much of the last 48 hours. The nausea hit again like a sledge hammer. She bent over the toilet and retched. She swore to herself that she would never drink that much again. She flushed the toilet and staggered out of the bathroom just as the phone started ringing. Throwing herself on the couch, she reached out and grabbed the receiver. “Yeah.”

“Tasha?”

The voice sounded slightly familiar. “Yep.” She answered.

“This is Mclutcheon. How are you?”

“Well, I’ve been better. What’s up?”

“I was kind of wondering if I could come over or meet you somewhere. It’s about a case I’m working. I could use your advice.”

Tasha mulled it over a moment. She was curious why Daniel Mclutcheon would be calling her.

“Clutch, I been out of the business for a couple years now. I don’t see how I can help.”

“Look, just give me an ear for a little bit, okay?”

“Alright.” She finally said. “I’m not up to going anywhere but you’re welcome to come over here.”

“Great. When should I be there?”

“Give me about an hour. I’ll need to clean up.”

Tasha was just exiting the bathroom as the doorbell rung. As she was moving toward the door, she smelled her arm and was satisfied that her skin now smelled like soap rather than bile. In a second, Daniel Mclutcheon stood before her wearing a black suit with a black tie.

“Let me guess. Funeral?”

“In a way. I wore it for you. Still drinking?”

“Don’t start Clutch. It’s my life, remember?” she said. She stepped back from the door and offered him in. “Want something to drink?”

“Water.”

They moved into the kitchen and Tasha opened the refrigerator door. She grabbed a bottle of water out quickly, hoping Clutch hadn’t seen inside. Too late. “My God. All you have in your entire fridge is beer and wine. The trash can is overflowing with empties. You can’t be living this way.” Tasha turned toward him and offered him the bottle. “Clutch, I don’t need this shit. Now are you gonna tell me what you’re here for or just lecture me all day.” She felt herself growing angry and tried to keep her voice under control.

He turned and headed into the den area. “Sorry.” He twisted the top off the water bottle and took a long gulp.

“What are you doing now?” he asked.

“I work part time at the college teaching profiling.”

“Makes sense. I mean, you were a profiler for the FBI.”

“Nah. There really isn’t such a thing as ‘profiler’. I worked as a special agent. That is, until I got canned.”

“I take it you’re not drinking on the job anymore then.” Mclutcheon offered her a smile, hoping she wouldn’t take offense.

“No.” she said plainly, motioning him to take a seat on the sofa.

“What’s going on?”

Mclutcheon took a deep breath and looked down at the carpet. He could feel Tasha’s gaze on him.

“Looks like we have a serial killer. Maybe just a serial kidnapper. Macy Garcia’s abduction may have been botched.”

Tasha stared at him for a moment. She was remembering something she’d seen on the news. “Oh yeah. Skopic must be desperate since he sent you to me.”

“Look, Tasha. It was my idea. I just thought you might be able to help us out.” Mclutcheon said as he took another sip of water.

“But you don’t believe it’s just a kidnapper.” She said as she watched him.

“No. I’m afraid I don’t.”

  “He has left letters. The first, he wrote on a sheet of paper and left it on the vic’s pillow. It said ‘Mr. Mojo Risin’. The second letter he left again on the woman’s pillow. It said ‘The west is the best’. Then the third letter was Macy Garcia’s. It was part of the ‘From Hell’ letter written by Jack the Ripper.”

“So he seems to like to borrow famous phrases. That and he’s a big Doors fan.” Tasha mused. “I think he’s definitely a little older. Probably mid thirties on into his forties, possibly. I doubt he’s any younger than that. Twenty somethings today don’t know songs like ‘L.A. Woman’ or ‘The End’.”

“Right.” Mclutcheon replied.

“I also think he meant to kill Macy. Perhaps he’s escalating.” Tasha added.

“That’s what I’m afraid of which is why I’m here.”

Tasha stared at Mclutcheon. “Why?”

“Because I would like it if you would consult on this case.”

Mclutcheon finished off the bottle of water he was drinking. “How about it?”

“Geez, Clutch. I’m really busy with Criminal Justice class.”

Mclutcheon stared at her with a semi smile on his face. She couldn’t help but laugh at herself. Tasha knew she’d been doing virtually nothing but getting by since she left the FBI.

“Skopic ok with this?”

“I already ran it by him. We need all the help we can get. He wants to get this case solved as much as I do.”

Tasha let out a deep breath. “OK. Just one thing to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t want to end up on the news.”

“It’s a deal.”

CHAPTER 4

Daniel Mclutcheon was sitting in his office the next day stirring cream into a much needed cup of coffee. He was in the middle of taking his first sip when Ryan Skopic strolled through the door.

“Hey. Just got off the phone with the ME. He’s sending his report over but he told me that it appears that Macy was raped and strangled.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Skopic said and looked away for a moment. “The ME said she had a contusion underneath her left ear. Maybe the perp struck her with something.”

“Makes me wonder about the other two vics. Carol Shipley and Monica Balzer haven’t turned up yet.” Mclutcheon said.

“Yeah, and God knows who else this son of a bitch may have abducted. Anyway, the ME sent   blood and body fluids to the lab. It’ll be a few days before we know anything more.”

Mclutcheon sat back in his chair and took a deep breath. He exhaled in an audible sigh. “I’ll have to talk to Tasha about this.”

“I’m just praying we’re doing the right thing by bringing her in on this.” Skopic replied. “I mean, I know you’ve known her since she was a kid. Her father was a great cop and you were good friends with him but she’s a wild card Dan.”

“Look, I know she has a bit of a drinking problem.”

“She’s an alcoholic, Dan.”

“She’s a brilliant profiler. Coulda been one of the best if the bottle didn’t get to her. She’ll hold her own with this investigation.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I’ve been sober for 20 years now. Go to meetings regularly. I don’t think she’s hit her bottom yet but maybe she’s about there. I hope so anyway.”

“I hope you’re right.” Skopic repeated.

Mclutcheon picked up the phone and dialed Tasha’s number just as Skopic left the office. Four rings and no one was picking up. Clutch wondered if she might be in class. Eight rings.

“Hello?” a sleepy voice answered.

“This is Clutch. We need to talk.”

Tasha made a loud grunt and he knew she was stretching. “Okay. What’s up?”

“The ME has finished his report. There’s some new information. I was going to bring over the notes the perp left to have you look at them and tell you what the ME found out.”

“Let’s meet at Malone’s. I could use a bloody Mary.”

“No Tasha. I don’t go to bars anymore, remember?”

There was a long pause. “Alright then. I’ll settle for a smothered and covered at the Waffle House.”

“Meet there in about twenty minutes?” Clutch asked as he glanced at his watch.

“Make it more like 40. I need to run some water over my head and apply shampoo. Damn, what time is it anyway?”

“10:05. I’ll be there at a quarter til.”

He signed off with Tasha and went down to the evidence room to check out the notes. Maybe she would be able to see something in them that the cops had failed to see.

Twenty minutes later he was on his way across town. The air was stifling and Clutch turned his air conditioner all the way on high. Even so, he could still feel sweat trickling down his right temple. He wondered about the other two women. He really hoped they hadn’t been left out somewhere in this heat. “When it’s hot, it’ll rot.” He said to himself and then tried to get the image of decomposing flesh out of his mind.

Ten minutes later he saw the yellow building sitting on the side of the road. He pulled in and noted, to his satisfaction, that there weren’t many customers. The air conditioned restaurant was a welcome relief from the blistering heat outside. He slid into a booth and laid his evidence on the table. A few minutes later, a waitress  who looked about 60 approached him.

“You eatin’ alone, hon?”

“No. My friend isn’t here yet.”

“Well, would you care for a cup of coffee?”

“That’s exactly what I need.” Mclutcheon smiled.

“Be here in a second. It’s almost done brewing.”

The waitress grinned back at him and Mclutcheon noticed that she was missing at least 3 teeth. She looked poor. Southern poor. He felt bad as he thought about the woman having to work slinging plates and being almost retirement age.
In this economy people will do anything for a paycheck.

Tasha Yoder strolled into the restaurant about 5 minutes later. She dropped down into the booth on the opposite side and grabbed the bagged evidence.

“Is this what you wanted me to see?”

“Yep.”

Tasha opened the bag and took out the notes. She studied them for a full three minutes in silence. Finally, she looked back up at Mclutcheon who was taking a sip of coffee.

“OK. Notice how hard he bore the pen to paper?”

She held the note out for Mclutcheon to take a look.

“Yeah. So?”

“And notice how his sentences trail upward? I mean, he starts his sentence down low and each subsequent word goes up like he’s writing uphill or something.”

Mclutcheon took the note and saw what Tasha was talking about.

“What does it mean?” he asked.

“Bearing down on the paper like this indicates aggression.” She said.

“Furthermore, writing uphill the way this perp does indicates possible mania. He may very well have been in a manic phase while perpetrating these crimes.”

“Well, if he was in a manic phase, wouldn’t the crimes have been more disorganized?”

Tasha took the other two notes and handed them back to Mclutcheon.

“Not necessarily. I had a case one time when I was still with the FBI. This guy was manic but extremely organized. When we caught him, turned out he had been a professor at MIT. Needless to say, he was brilliant.”

Tasha stopped talking long enough for the waitress to place her hash browns in front of her. She picked up a bottle of ketchup and liberally applied it to the fried potatoes.