Don't Say a Word (18 page)
“Yeah? Maybe if you’re eighty years old. What’s that smell, anyway? Vicks VapoRub?”
“Very funny. Can’t wait to critique your house.” Julia sat down in an old-fashioned, white wicker rocking chair and placed her paper cup on the coffee table. She gestured for him to take a seat on a colorful chintz couch across from her. “Where is your place, anyway, Brannock? You live in your truck, or what?”
Will opened the tab on his coffee, still unwilling to answer that question. Nobody knew where he lived and wouldn’t anytime soon. Especially Julia Cass. But he found himself wanting to tell her; to tell her everything she wanted to know about him. She had asked him a few questions earlier, casually, but he knew she was curious, maybe even suspicious. Hell, she was a detective, a damn good one. He’d incurred her interest, and she wasn’t going to stop digging. He took a sip, savored the caffeine kick, and brushed off her question. “Sometimes it sure feels like it.”
“I’m beginning to think you’re hiding stolen property at your place. Or maybe you’ve got a kidnapped flight attendant handcuffed to your bed?”
Ignoring the flight attendant jab, Will flipped back the lid of the box, took out a chocolate cake doughnut with white icing sprinkled with chopped pecans, then offered the breakfast pastries to Julia. Let her think he was a real womanizer. Maybe that would put the brakes on his growing attraction for her. Hell, growing? He wanted to throw her on that daybed, jerk off that little robe of hers, and kiss her until neither one of them could breathe. Damn, what was it about her? It was a good thing she kept pushing him away, because he was weakening big-time.
Keep it light, keep it easy, Brannock
, he told himself. “Take your pick, Cass. I got two of everything so you wouldn’t freak out if I took your favorite.”
Keep it light, keep it easy, Brannock
, he told himself. “Take your pick, Cass. I got two of everything so you wouldn’t freak out if I took your favorite.”
Julia wrinkled her nose at him, then leaned forward and picked out the biggest jelly doughnut. His second favorite. She took a bite, and Will watched her tongue flick out and catch a bit of raspberry jelly on her full lower lip. Then she slowly wet her lips—innocently, but still one of the most erotic things he’d ever witnessed. Will’s masculine sensibilities jumped up and took note—okay, maybe it was more like a jolt of pure lust, enough to make him shift positions on the couch. Julia Cass was one desirable woman, especially at the moment. Not many women looked this good when they had just got up, with no makeup and long hair all tangled and wild around their shoulders. Natural beauty. He realized the way he was thinking and stomped hard on his carnal brakes.
Man, what in the hell was his problem? He was acting like an idiot. She wasn’t interested in him, and even if she was, she wouldn’t any more act on a mutual attraction with a partner than he would. Partners just didn’t get involved. It was an unwritten rule. She’d already broken that rule once, with tragic consequences. She wasn’t crazy enough to do it again. Worse, she was J.D.’s sister, and J.D. was ultraprotective about his female relatives. Another good reason for Will to keep his distance. On the other hand, they weren’t really partners, technically speaking, and never had been.
“So what’s on the agenda today? Must be something important, since we’re starting work before the sun comes all the way up,” she grumbled, taking another bite.
“The sun’s up. See, look outside. Enjoy the morning.”
Will dragged his eyes away from her mouth and watched Jasper amble out of the bedroom, yawning so widely that it looked almost painful. When he saw Will, he loped over and bounded up beside him on the couch, sniffing at the box of doughnuts. Will laughed and rubbed the floppy ears and fed him a generous bite.
“Admit it, Cass. Your dog loves me.”
“Yeah? Well, I never said he was bright, just loyal.” She propped her bare feet on a grandma-ish stool covered with an intricate needlepoint image of a white cat sitting in a rocking chair with a big ball of red yarn. “It’s probably just the doughnuts. He’s a bloodhound, you know, known for his nose. The smell of jellies always draws me in, too.”
“Jellies are the way to your heart? I’ll have to remember that the next time I tick you off.”
“You might have to buy a Dunkin’ Donuts franchise for that.” But she smiled, a real one that showed those damned dimples again. He stared at them until her smile faded and she said, “So, anything new on the case?”
“Not yet. We really need to get a break soon. This guy’s going to strike again. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Nothing’s come in on Maria Bota?”
“Not yet. I still think she could be connected to the murder somehow. It’s worth pursuing, in any case. Something just doesn’t add up about her working at the judge’s house, then disappearing the way she did.”
“I still haven’t gotten any hits on the scales. Maybe we ought to publicize a picture of it and see if we get a tip.”
“That’s not a bad idea. The media would salivate to get anything, now that they’re calling him the Tongue Slasher to jump-start their ratings.” Will finished off his doughnut and wiped his fingers on a napkin. “I think we need to check out the rest of Lockhart’s girlfriends. Starting with Jane Cansell. With a little prodding, a jealous woman might be apt to point the finger at her rivals for his affection.”
“You speak like a man who deals with lots of jealous women.”
“Cass, c’mon, give it a rest, already. You do know you’ve got me pegged all wrong, don’t you? I date some, just like any other guy, but I’m no Casanova type, trust me.”
“Could’ve fooled me that day out at the airport. But hey, it’s none of my business.”
“What about you? You got a boyfriend that you pull a gun on first thing every morning?” He grinned, that visual amusing him. Especially if it was Max Hazard.
“Nope, but I just moved here. The best ones haven’t found me yet.”
Will laughed. That was probably true. He wondered about her past love life. She was in her midthirties. She was a drop-dead gorgeous woman. There had to be lots of men, other than Bobby Crismon, who’d been interested in her. Like Max Hazard. He was finding her almost as secretive as he was. Ironically, her reticence annoyed him.
Julia stood up, stretched, and yawned as big as Jasper had. The stretch brought the robe up to dangerous levels. Same thing with his heartbeat and other things prone to rise up and be known.
“Okay, Brannock, I’m going to take a quick shower. Try not to peek. And don’t let Jasper eat too many of those doughnuts. He’s got a delicate stomach. And don’t snoop around, either.”
“Me? You wound me, Cass.”
Will watched her until she disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door. He heard the lock turn. There was just no denying it. He was interested in her, very much so and no doubt about it. God, next he’d be having dreams about her. Okay, so be it. Maybe someday, maybe after they solved this ugly case and went their separate ways, he to the TBI, she to the CPD. Then they wouldn’t be colleagues, exactly. Maybe he’d ask her out. Maybe she’d go, maybe she wouldn’t. And that would end it. Time would tell. Meanwhile, he needed to concentrate on the case and not her legs or her dimples or that rockin’ body of hers. He fed Jasper the last bite of his cake doughnut, then picked up a glazed one. When he heard the shower come on, he walked back out on the porch and sat on the big swing facing the river. He ran the case through his mind. Over and over; how many times he couldn’t begin to count. Leads weren’t exactly pouring in right now, and it was frustrating as hell.
A few minutes later, his cell phone dinged. It was his boss, Special Agent in Charge Phil Hayes. He answered, said hello, and then listened as Phil filled him in on the latest development. Frowning, he finished the call just before Julia showed up in the doorway, dressed in a dark blue polo shirt and jeans. Her Glock was buckled to her belt, along with her badge, and she had a lightweight white jacket in her hand.
“Cass, you ever heard of a guy named Roc VanVeter?”
“That jerk radio guy? Sure, who hasn’t?”
“Well, he’s dead. Found hanging on the balcony of his high-rise downtown apartment. Guess what the killer left behind?”
“Scales?”
“You got it.”
“Tongue and dimes, too?”
All business now, Will nodded and opened the screen door. “Let’s go. We’ve got ourselves a serial. And a whole lot more trouble.”
Chapter 13
Roc VanVeter lived in a ritzy high-rise in the downtown area near the Walnut Street pedestrian bridge. It seemed that foulmouthed, crude, and vicious radio commentators did very well for themselves. Yes, VanVeter was the local shock jock that took low-life shots at anyone and everyone in the news. His radio and television shows consistently harassed and humiliated people who had the misfortune of catching his attention, especially anyone involved in sensational court cases or celebrity missteps.
Julia shook her head as she and Will Brannock got out of his Hummer in a taped-off zone at the canopied entrance.
“You do know that when the media gets wind of this, all hell’s going to break loose,” she said to Will as the uniformed police officer checked their ID and let them enter the building. “They were giddy enough about Lockhart’s murder. There’ll be celebrations in the press-room with this one.”
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t happen for a few days.”
“When it’s Roc VanVeter? Dream on, Brannock.”
“Where is he?” Will asked the policeman.
Julia didn’t know the CPD police officer, but he was a young, muscular African-American, clean shaven, tough, a man who looked like a prizefighter. Probably a rookie, judging by his fresh-faced, eager response to Will’s inquiry.
“Top floor. Penthouse apartment. Nothing’s been touched. They said to wait for you to get here.”
“Good work. What’s your name?”
“Officer Shane Williams. CPD.”
“Who found the body?” Julia asked him.
“Some old lady who lives in a high-rise just south of here. Said she likes to watch people through her telescope and called CPD when she saw a man hanging by the neck on a balcony. She thought it might be some kind of joke, but my partner and I checked it out and it wasn’t any mannequin. The victim was dead, with blood all over the place. That’s when we called it in to Chief Mullins. We’re still waiting for your forensic team to show up.”
As the elevator whisked them up to the top floor, Julia handed Will a pair of latex gloves and paper booties that she’d brought in from the truck. They donned the protective gear, both serious about what they were about to walk into, well aware that a serial killer stalking the streets of Chattanooga was not something they wanted to deal with. When the doors slid open, they stepped into a silent hallway with dark gold travertine tiles and pale yellow walls set with gold glass sconces. Julia decided it definitely did not fit Roc VanVeter’s style. Nope, nasty graffiti and blood spatter was more in keeping with that guy’s personality.
Another cop stood outside Roc VanVeter’s door. Young, looking to be around twenty-five, and clean-cut, he seemed to recognize Will Brannock. “He’s outside on the balcony, Will. Brace yourself. It’s gory as hell in there.”
“Thanks, Ryan. Julia, this is Officer Ryan Karns. Ryan, this is Julia Cass. She’s just started in your homicide unit.”
“Yes, I heard about that. Nice to meet you, Detective. Welcome to the CPD. You’re starting out with a real messy case.”
“Yeah, I’m finding that out. Nice to meet you, too.”
Julia was pleased to know another new colleague by name, but she braced herself as Will opened the door to Roc VanVeter’s apartment. It did not look like the elegant, traditionally decorated hallway outside. It was as sparsely modern as modern could be, done all in black and white with a touch of red; geometrics and stripes and chrome and mirrored everything. It was quiet, the air conditioner turned down to very cold.
“Good God, it feels like Antarctica in here,” Will said, inspecting the room. “It doesn’t appear that anything’s been touched inside this room, but we’ll let forensics sweep the place and hope to hell they find something to help us.”
There were three long leather couches, two white and one black, identical otherwise, each with three oversized red cushions, and very modern with low backs and no arms. A black fireplace was the focal point on one wall, the other walls painted white. Paintings were everywhere, all in large black frames, all nudes made of curving slashes of black paint. The carpet was thick white plush with zebra-skin throw rugs and one large red leather recliner near a wall of plate-glass windows that looked out on a fabulous river view.
“Well, there’s our victim,” said Will. “Good God Almighty.”
Roc VanVeter was hanging outside on a long, wide outdoor balcony. He had been strung up by the neck, his feet dangling about a foot above the ground.
Julia inhaled deeply and let her breath out slowly, preparing herself. “Let’s check out the rest of the place first.”
They walked down the interior hall into VanVeter’s bedroom and quickly identified the actual location of the grisly murder.
“He must’ve killed him in that chair and then moved him out onto the balcony.”
Julia followed Will’s pointing finger. There was a huge glass door that led onto the balcony, and a trail of blood stained the white carpet from the death chair through the outside door. “He cut his tongue out in here, then took him out there to hang him. Why would he do it that way?”
“Who knows? The guy’s crazy,” offered Will. “Okay, let’s get this done.”
Outside on the open-air balcony, the August heat hit them like an oven blast after the frigidity of the interior of the apartment. VanVeter was swinging slightly in the hot wind off the river. He had on black trousers and gray New Balance sneakers without socks. The killer had removed the man’s shirt and left it on the bedroom floor. Tattoos of every shape and color covered VanVeter’s torso, among them a big eagle with spread wings and a geometric design that looked like the sacred cultural tattoos of Hawaiians and Samoans. More inked pictures decorated his arms, with one that said
MOMMY DEAREST
inside a heart. His eyes were open and staring, blood staining his face and chest red from when the tongue was removed.
TWO
was written on the floor in blood.
MOMMY DEAREST
inside a heart. His eyes were open and staring, blood staining his face and chest red from when the tongue was removed.
TWO
was written on the floor in blood.
“Looks like the killer left us some more messages,” Will said.
Julia turned and looked at Will where he stood with his back to a different plate-glass window, one through which Julia could see a second bedroom with red walls and a huge round white bed. On the glass wall separating it from the balcony, more words had been scrawled in blood, probably written with the victim’s tongue:
PROVERBS 10:31
.
PROVERBS 10:31
.
“Are you familiar with that verse, Will?”
“Not offhand.”
“I’ll pull it up on my phone.”
It just took a second or two to pull it up. Julia read the Bible verse, then looked at Will. “Are you ready for this?”
“Shoot.”
“Proverbs chapter ten, verse thirty-one, says, ‘The mouth of the just brings forth wisdom; but the fraudulent tongue shall be cut out.’ ”
Will stared at her. “Fraudulent tongue. So we’re right about the revenge thing. VanVeter finally went after the wrong guy.”
“Unless the slasher’s pitching a false lead and trying to throw us off.”
“In my book, cutting off the tongue points to an act of revenge for something someone said.”
“Maybe he wants to be caught.”
“Or is just toying with us,” Will said. “We need to check out the databases again and see if we can find a similar MO.”
“I’ve already done that, and so have you.”
“There’s got to be a connection between these two victims. Something they were in on together, something that wronged the killer.”
Will stared at the man hanging from the balcony. “Both are high-profile and in the news a lot. He might just want victims that will cause a frenzy in the media. People who can catapult his murders into fame and history, make him famous like Ted Bundy.”
“Yeah, well, that’s already happened.”
No sooner had Julia spoken than they heard the
thut-thut
of rotors and a news helicopter swept into view from across the river. She’d heard the Chattanooga CBS affiliate had recently gotten a chopper but hadn’t seen it in action yet. It soared toward them, and they watched helplessly as it hovered above the building, a cameraman hanging out the door, his camera trained on them and Roc VanVeter’s mutilated body.
thut-thut
of rotors and a news helicopter swept into view from across the river. She’d heard the Chattanooga CBS affiliate had recently gotten a chopper but hadn’t seen it in action yet. It soared toward them, and they watched helplessly as it hovered above the building, a cameraman hanging out the door, his camera trained on them and Roc VanVeter’s mutilated body.
Will tried to wave them off, holding up his badge, but the forensic unit had not arrived yet to put up the privacy shields. They couldn’t cut down the victim, not until the ME arrived and released the body, so there was little they could do. Julia just hoped the news team wasn’t working on a live feed.
“Wait a minute. I’m going to check out what they’re saying on VanVeter’s TV.”
Inside the living room, she turned on the giant seventy-inch LCD flat-screen television and caught the latest news report. Her worst fears were realized when she saw the scene on the balcony unfolding before her eyes and for all of Chattanooga to see. She watched as Will continued to try to shield the corpse from the camera. He was on his cell phone now, trying to get the helicopter ordered out of downtown airspace.
The female news anchor was still talking, still winging it so early in the story. “It appears the victim is Roc VanVeter himself, who, we have recently learned, lives in the penthouse apartment that we now have on camera. The man on the balcony looks to be a law enforcement officer but has not yet been identified. From what we’ve seen, it looks like the infamous radio personality has hanged himself. Although we can’t verify that at this point, it appears that is the case from our reporters arriving on the scene.”
Julia grabbed a folded black velvet throw off the couch and headed outside. Will grabbed one end of it, and they stretched it across the crime scene as best they could. It worked, or Will’s attempts to call them off did, because the helicopter hovered only a few more minutes before banking left and heading out over the river.
Fortunately, it wasn’t too long before Will’s TBI forensic team showed up with a standing screen that would conceal the body from air surveillance or vantage points from surrounding buildings. The team got right to work, and when Peter Tipton, the medical examiner, showed up, Will and Julia stood with him while they waited for the photographer to take his still shots. Another technician was filming the crime scene process from beginning to end. They were top-notch and everything was done by the book. The longer Julia was on this case, the more respect she had for the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation.
Pete shook his head. “By the amount of blood on the body, the killer severed the tongue while the victim was still alive. Did he take the tongue this time, too?”
Will said, “Yes, but only part of it, just like at the Lockhart scene.”
“It’s the same guy. It has to be,” said Julia. “There’s not been enough news coverage yet for a copycat. No one knows this many details about the crime scene, anyway.”
“True,” said Will. “But now that the news media’s got hold of the fact that it’s VanVeter, it’s going to go viral.”
“Great, just great,” Julia muttered under her breath.
Behind her, the television reporter was still talking about the murder. “We’ve just gotten word that Roc VanVeter’s death is actually a murder that may be tied to the recent killing of Judge Lucien Lockhart . . .”
“Oh no,” Julia said, looking at Will.
“. . . We’ve heard from a reputable source that both victims had their tongues removed.”
The male commentator chimed in, seemingly excited about the shocking nature of this new information. “If that’s true, then the Tongue Slasher has struck again, just as we feared, and he’s still on the loose, maybe even stalking another victim. These two tragic murders just might be the first and second of many mutilation murders in this city.”
“I can’t believe they can get away with this kind of reporting,” said Peter Tipton.
“And who leaked information about the tongue mutilation so soon after Lockhart was killed?” Julia said. “We need to find out and prosecute them.”
“This is not good, and getting worse,” said Will.
Peter Tipton walked behind the privacy screen and began to examine the body. He felt the front pockets and pulled out a key chain with two keys on it. “Looks like a car key and probably the apartment door key. There’s a book of matches.”
“Does it have a logo on it?” Julia asked quickly.
“It says Studio Zero.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a nightclub two or three miles from here,” Will told them. “I checked it out when I was researching the Battle Street Ten gang. They like to hang out there.”
“That could be the connection we’re looking for,” Julia said.
“We’ll soon see. As soon as we get done here, we’ll check out his coworkers and see if he has any personal connection with Studio Zero. That goes for the judge, too. It’ll be interesting to see if they frequented the same nightclub.”
“So you are Mr. VanVeter’s personal assistant here at the radio station?”
The young woman raised her face and looked at Julia, eyes flooding over with tears that dripped down her flushed cheeks, taking a lot of black mascara and thick eyeliner along with it. She looked like a little punk rocker or an addicted Hollywood starlet, take your pick. She had long hair, dyed so dark there was no shine left, just a flat, dull black like a dead man’s eyes. Two nose rings, six earrings in each ear—and as she spoke, Julia caught sight of the silver stud in her tongue. Tattoos decorated her pale skin—not as many as they’d seen on her boss’s body, but her arms were blue with ink in every pattern you could think of. There was even a fancy, curlicue illustration of Roc VanVeter’s name, and his face.
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