Family Honor (15 page)

"Charming."
She had a couple of other thoughts but kept them to herself. Her father had taught her not to judge a book by its cover, and she tried to remember that.

Nate reached down and unfastened the strap on his holster which kept his gun secure. He caught her eye.
"Just in case."

Mel nodded and did the same.

He stepped into the classroom. "Tony Masters?"

The man looked up and when he spotted them, Mel could almost see the beads of sweat appear on his forehead. "Yes?" His voice squeaked. He cleared his throat.

"We need a word with you please. Out here." Nate motioned to the doorway behind him.

"Of course."
Masters took his time getting to the front of the room but once he got there, bolted to the other side and out a door that Mel
hadn't
even noticed.

"Call for backup!" Nate hollered and ran after Masters.

Shit!
Mel grabbed the radio mic on her collar and ran after them. "This is Curtis. We're on foot in pursuit of a suspect in the alley behind the Webb Beauty School on Collins Lane."

"Ten-four," the dispatcher replied and put out a call to all units in the vicinity.

Mel reached the end of the alley and rounded the corner. She stopped short. About ten feet in front of her, Masters lay face down on the sidewalk, one of Nate's knees pressed into his back.

"I didn't do anything!" the man cried.

"Sure, most innocent people bolt when the police confront them." Nate answered. He glanced up at Mel. "Back up en route?"

She nodded, still stunned at how easily
he'd
taken down the perp. She lifted her collar and said, "Suspect in custody just off the alley."

"Ten-four," the dispatcher said again. "One-Bravo-fifteen will be there momentarily."

"Thank you." She released the button on her mic.

Nate stood and dragged Masters up with him. He was reaching for his handcuffs when sirens pierced the air. "I'll let them cuff him. I lose more cuffs that way."

Mel smiled. She waved at the black and white car heading their way down the alley.

Two officers stepped from the car and approached them.

"Cuff this guy and take him in for questioning," Nate directed.

One of the cops pulled a silver set of handcuffs off his belt and secured Masters, then took his arm.

"Where are you taking me?" Masters blubbered. He looked from one uniformed cop to the other. "I didn't do anything, really. I was teaching when these two came busting into my classroom. I think I have a civil suit or something here."

"Shut your yap," one of the officers
demanded,
and stuck Masters in the back seat of their car.

"Thanks," Mel told them. "We'll be there soon."

Nate interjected, "Actually, can you stick him in a holding cell? We're going to check out his house before we question him."

"No problem." The officers returned to their car and drove off.

Nate wiped some dirt from his slacks. "Well, that could have gone worse."

"Not too shabby," Mel agreed. "We're going to his house?"

He nodded. "I've got his address, figured we could run by real quick and see what we can find. We'll send a team in
later,
I'd just like to know what we're dealing with before we question him."

"Let's do it." They walked down the alley, never returning to the school, and Mel chuckled. "Bet they're wondering what the hell is going on."

"Let Masters explain it to them." Nate slid into the SUV and punched Master's address into the GPS. "He lives close."

"I'd expect that."

"Have a black and white meet us there, will you?"

"Roger that." She made the call, then settled in and watched the neighborhoods change as Nate drove. They were still in a run-down part of town, but it was residential now.
Old houses, some well-kept and some not.

Nate stopped in front of a very shabby residence. The grass was overgrown and there was as much trash in the yard as there was foliage.

"This it?"
She almost hated to see the inside.

"Jealousy rears its ugly head." He grinned at her as he got out.

"Yeah, whatever."
She rolled her eyes and they looked in the window as they passed by. "I see a cat."

"Great." Nate knocked loudly once,
then
called, "FBI."

There was no response. He opened the tattered screen door and tried the doorknob. "Locked," he said without much surprise. "Damn, this is going to hurt." He butted a shoulder firmly against the door and the wood splintered. The door swung open.

"Ouch!" Mel made a face. She stepped into the house and made another. The stench overwhelmed her.
"Oh God.
More than one cat."

"Hope that's just cat we smell," he muttered. He flipped a switch and at least three animals scattered when the light hit them.

Mel glanced around the cluttered room. It appeared normal enough, with a sofa, recliner and a TV. Dirty dishes on the coffee table provided their own aroma. She walked through to the kitchen, where more dishes sat out unattended. She held her nose and pointed to an overflowing litter box in the corner.

"Nice," Nate said, voice thick with sarcasm. He turned and went in the other direction, toward the bedrooms.

Mel followed, again noticing how unremarkable the place looked if it was indeed the home of a killer. One bedroom seemed to be used for an office and storage area. There was a big old computer on the desk, and the bed was piled high with boxes of one kind or another. She lifted one.
"Coffeemaker, empty.
DVD
player,
set of dishes. All empty. Guess he doesn't like to throw things away."

"Hoarder.
But with the bed this full, he wasn't using it for much besides storage."

"True that." She headed down the hall pausing only briefly to peer into the small bathroom. Another litter box in another filthy corner. "Not going in there. Gross."

Nate chuckled. "We'll leave that for CSIs. I'm anxious to check out his room."

"There's no place else." Mel looked around. "No basement that I can see."

"Yeah, I noticed." He entered the bigger bedroom at the end of the hall and flipped on the light. The bed was unmade, but it looked like any other bachelor's room might.

A large double closet lined the far wall. Mel opened the first set of doors. Masters’ clothes, some still in dry-cleaner plastic bags, hung neatly inside. She moved to the second set of doors and pulled them open. A red cheerleader's uniform was the first thing she spotted. "Here we go."

Nate stepped up behind her.
"Jackpot."
He skimmed through about twenty different outfits: nurse, French maid,
cowgirl
. There was just the one cheerleader. A low shelf held some sex toys, blindfolds and ball-gags.
"Kinky son-of-a-bitch."

"Yeah, but…." Mel screwed up her face in thought. "Not
that
kinky, you know?
I'll
bet half the couples in Wichita have some of this stuff in their bedroom. I don't see any knives or cutting instruments of any kind."

Nate squatted and studied the items on the shelf for a moment. He glanced up at her. "You got any of this stuff in your arsenal?"

She grinned. "I'll never tell. Not on the second date, anyway. Something else is bugging me. Look at these outfits.
They're
costumes, like you might buy for Halloween, or at a novelty shop. See how cheaply they're made?" She fingered the cheerleader uniform gently. "This is nothing like our victims were found in. Those were legitimate, old-time uniforms. These are poorly made out of something that looks like gauze."

"I agree.
Let's
go talk to Prince Charming.
We'll
send Stone and the CSI team in here. Have them check fingerprints, DNA and do a Luminol test. If anyone was killed here, he couldn't have cleaned it up that well."

A cat rubbed against Mel's leg and she jumped. "Jesus!" She watched the animal leap on the bed and curl up between the pillows. "I'm just not a cat person, I guess. I certainly don't want one sleeping on my bed."

Nate grinned as he walked past her. "Glad I'm not a cat."

She laughed and followed him out. "That makes two of us!"

Mel phoned Stone with instructions while Nate directed the uniformed officers. He drove back to the office and they entered the police department, making their way to the interrogation area on the first floor. "I asked Stone to send Reeder down with some photos," she told Nate. "We'll watch while you question Masters."

Nate slipped his bulletproof vest off and straightened the collar on his shirt. Together they stood in the viewing room watching Masters through a two-way mirror.

Reeder joined them, setting a folder on the table and looking at the suspect. "Slimy little bug. You like him for this?"

"I did," Nate said. "I still think there's something to the connection. But after looking at his house, I'm not sure he's our guy."

"He could have another place," Mel suggested.

Nate nodded. "Have someone check with Shelia or Juicy Fruit. Find out where their stylist took them for playtime after the hair was done."

"Will do."
She texted Stone.

Reeder made a face at Nate. "Find out if this is our guy, or we need to keep looking. The brass wants to know."

"So do
I
." Nate grabbed the folder and left the viewing area. He reappeared in the interrogation room a few seconds later. "Hello, Tony." He took a seat across the table from the nervous man.

Mel and Reeder stepped closer to the mirror so they
wouldn't
miss anything.

Masters squeaked. "Who are you? What am I doing here? I demand some answers!"

"Of course."
Nate flipped a business card onto the table, near the hook to which Master's cuffs were attached. "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Nathan Willis of the FBI.
We're
here to help solve the murders of several local women. All the bodies have been found in your neighborhood, the Oldtown area. Today we discovered another connection. We think you've done the hair of all our victims."

Tony shook his head. "I knew about that girl, Donna. But
she's
the only one. And that was a coincidence! I've done a lot of women's hair."

"I'm sure.
A lot of the working girls, especially.
You had an arrangement with them, didn't you Tony?"

His face fell. "They told you. Yes, okay, we traded services. But it was all on the up and up. And they came to me. I never looked any of them up. Ask them,
they'll
tell you.
They came to me
. They wanted what I could give them."

"I'd like to ask them, but a bunch of them are dead, Tony. So tell me, why did you pick the ones you did? What was special about Donna Leonard, Rhonda Jensen, Linda Mains and Sissy Warsaw?"

A look of confusion crossed the man's face.
"Who?
What are you talking about?"

"They're the ones you killed, Tony. So what happened? They change their minds about your little role-playing games? Or did the games get out of hand?"