Murder Mountain (11 page)

“She insinuated that Boz’s death was my fault.”

“We’re all on edge. I don’t think she meant it. Regardless of how she got her position, she is still the captain. I’ve never seen her fall apart like that; you definitely hit a nerve. Do you know that once she told me if there’s anything she’d like to achieve out of this job, it’s getting your respect?”

“She said that?” I started to feel slightly bad.

“Yup. She respects you more than you know. She would love to be like you, and it’s obvious she has issues with it. You know, maybe you could wait a while and go apologize. I’ll bet she’d accept, and that would be the end of it, no suspensions, firings, nothing.”

“What? She owes me an apology ...”

“Come on, CeeCee!” He interrupted me sharply. “Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn? I need you to help me with this case! We all need you here, and you can’t help us if you’re suspended.” He looked me right in the eye, making me feel just a bit foolish.

“I’ll think about it,” was all I could bring myself to say.

And I thought about it. After about a half an hour, I finally gathered enough courage and swallowed enough pride to make my way to Kincaid’s office. Surprisingly enough, she apologized first before I said anything. I can’t say my apology was all that sincere, but at least I offered it. We were back to business within the hour.

I walked into Coop’s office and told him I had smoothed things over with Kincaid, which seemed to make him happy. I asked him where he was on Boz’s murder.

“I have to tell you, CeeCee. I have absolutely nothing.” He looked as if he wanted to spit. “I am completely at a dead end. I hope the crime lab has something, which I have a bad feeling they don’t, or else we’re stuck. The snitches are out, but that’ll take some time. We’ve been looking at Boz’s past cases to see if anyone threatened him or had a grudge, but so far, we’ve found zilch. What we need to do is find Andrea Dean.”

I hadn’t paid that much attention to Coop personally that morning, but when I looked at him as he was saying this, I could see that he looked exhausted. I didn’t need to ask him if he had been awake all night.

“I’m going to Andrea’s right now,” I announced. “You look terrible. I think you should go home and get a couple of hours sleep. You can’t be as sharp as usual being this tired, and I wouldn’t want you to end up missing something. Don’t worry, I’ll take a uniform with me,” I said, responding to his raised eyebrows when he thought I would go alone.

“You’re right,” he yawned, rubbing his eyes with the knuckles of his forefingers. “Listen, I’m not going to go home, though. What I think I’ll do is hit the bed in the holding cell so I can be around if anything breaks.”

“I’ll let you know if something does,” I said over my shoulder as I left his office, quickly stopping at my desk to grab my briefcase before heading for my car.

It was still early in the morning, but I thought this would be a good time to catch someone at the Dean house. I couldn’t care less if I got Andrea or her mother out of bed.

I pulled into the driveway behind a green pickup truck, and the uniform officer pulled in behind me. Coop said there’d been no cars there yesterday, so I was in luck. The front door flew open while I was still knocking on it, making me jump a bit. I looked down at the officer standing in the driveway, who didn’t seem to notice my scare. A large, middle-aged, black-haired woman wearing a nightgown stood in the doorway. She let out a long sigh when she saw me.

“Yes?” she said.

I showed her my badge and told her who I was, but before I could tell her why I was there, she interrupted me.

“Did you find her?” She seemed suddenly excited.

“Did I find who, ma’am?” I was confused.

“My daughter, Andrea. I filed a report with you people two days ago, reporting her missing, and all. I gotta tell you, I’m more than a little upset that it’s taken this long to get someone over here to talk to me.”

I was shocked. This was definitely not the response I’d anticipated from this woman, and I couldn’t believe what she was telling me.
Now Andrea’s gone? What next?
I thought.

“You actually had a report filed with the Metropolitan Police Department, ma’am? An officer in uniform came to your house and filled out paperwork? Is that right?”

“Of course! He was a nice-looking young man, had this little blond mustache, and he said it would go to Missing Persons, and that a detective would call me. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“Is there anything that would lead you to believe that something happened to her, or do you think she just took off somewhere? If there isn’t any suggestion of foul play, Missing Persons may just inactivate the case,” I explained.

“No, it’s not what you people call foul play, but it’s foul play in my book. My daughter doesn’t use drugs, she doesn’t hang around bad people, and she’s never been gone for more than one hour without checking in on me. I’m diabetic and sometimes have my spells; she would never leave me alone like this. She didn’t show up for work, neither, and she never missed a day of work in her life.” She looked indignant, confused, proud, and very much afraid.

I had to leave. I told Mrs. Dean I was investigating her daughter’s disappearance and that I would be in touch with her soon, and then apologized for my rushed visit. She just stood there looking confused as I quickly walked to my car.

I was already on the phone with Coop before I even backed out of the driveway. I had the detective bureau secretary go wake him up in the holding cell. He must’ve run because he was on the phone in seconds.

“You’re never going to believe this,” I immediately said when he answered, “but Andrea Dean’s mother reported her missing to our department two days ago; report filed and everything. How was that missed?” I don’t think I sounded pleased.

“Oh, my God, CeeCee! Did Andrea’s mother remember Boz coming over yesterday?”

“Evidently not. I never really asked, but she said I was the first officer that had contacted her since the initial report was taken. I’ll call records and have them pull the report. Coop, I really hope this girl is hiding somewhere because she’s scared. Unfortunately, my gut feeling tells me she’s hiding all right, but not by choice. She’s probably dead already. This has got to be about her telling everyone about what happened to Lizzie Johnston; someone ratted her out. She’s known as the neighborhood gossip, and this time she talked too much.”

“All right, keep on it. I’m going to tell Kincaid about this. Call me with something when you get it.” He hung up.

I called Andrea’s mother back and asked her exactly when she’d last seen Andrea.

“It was two days ago when I left for work. Y’see, Andrea leaves after I do, at around nine. Andrea was home, just getting ready, like normal, when I left for work.”

“Mrs. Dean, who drives that green truck I saw in your driveway this morning?”

“Andrea. I get a ride with this woman I work with every day. Now, when I got home from work the day Andrea disappeared, her truck was still in the driveway. There was also a bunch of messages on our answering machine from Ted Hughes at Hughes Fabrications, that’s the factory where she works, telling her to call in, and say why she wasn’t at work.”

I made a mental note to call her employer to see if she was having problems with anyone, even though I knew the answer would be no. When I asked Mrs. Dean that same question, she actually laughed.

“No-no-no,” she chuckled sadly, “Andrea gets along with everyone. She didn’t have any enemies. Hell, she hasn’t even had a boyfriend for six months, and she broke up with the last one in a real friendly way, y’know? No hard feelings? And, I mean, people are in and out of the house all the time whenever Andrea’s home, catching up on the gossip. Andrea likes to know everything. She’s just like that. Interested.”

“Was she friends with a girl named Lizzie Johnston?”

“Now, I know that name. She lives here in the neighborhood, don’t she? Can’t say I ever heard Andrea say her name, particularly, though. Why?”

“Have you noticed any changes in the way Andrea has been acting lately, or any changes at all in her personality?”

“No,” she said thoughtfully. “No personality changes. Andrea’s just been her usual bubbly self.”

I hung up with Mrs. Dean with a promise that I would be in touch, soon.

On my way back to the department, I realized I hadn’t checked in with Deondre Carter to see if he’d found anything. I headed for Ocie Hill looking for a miracle, thinking it was entirely too early for him to be awake, but miracles do happen. He was in his driveway.

Instead of signaling me to meet at our spot, he just waved me over. He had nothing for me, which didn’t surprise me in the least. I knew this had nothing to do with Ocie Hill. With a promise of another bottle of whiskey, I was off and driving.

The preliminary reports from the lab were back. Coop and Kincaid were looking at them when I walked into the bureau’s offices. The lab reports showed nothing. There was something promising from the coroner’s office though. His preliminary report stated that Boz’s neck appeared to have been severed from some type of double-bladed instrument, possibly a large pair of hedge clippers. There were two different lacerations, paralleling, then overlapping each other, something that happened when, according to the coroner, the suspect opened and shut the blades several times, slicing the neck as deep as possible until decapitation almost occurred.

The report sickened all of us. My question as to whether or not Boz was conscious when his throat was slit was answered in the next paragraph of the coroner’s report. Boz didn’t have any head wounds, so he was probably awake. The toxicology reports weren’t in yet to determine if he’d been drugged or chloroformed, but we all knew they would be negative. My stomach turned upside down and then I realized something.

“They held him,” I announced.

“What?” Kincaid and Coop said in unison, looking up at me from their copies of the report.

“Someone held his arms behind him, someone very strong. I think there were two killers, one that held him and the other that did the cutting. That’s the only logical explanation.”

“That would explain the lack of drag marks to the car,” Coop added. “When we decided he was carried to the car, I did think that would have to be one hell of big guy, as big as Boz was. Now it makes more sense if there were two people to do it.”

Kincaid sat down and started rubbing her eyes, taking deep breaths. I knew exactly what the both of them were thinking, and they were trying to figure out how to say it without making me feel guilty about Boz.

I saved them the grief and said it myself.

“Right now I’m convinced,” I told them calmly, “without any doubt at all, that Boz’s death is directly linked to my case. That being so, I will take full responsibility for it, and would like to be named lead investigator, and yes, I screwed up by not telling anyone what I already knew.”

“It’s yours,” Captain Kincaid stopped me in my tracks. “Now go.”

Over the next week, everyone pitched in on the investigation and worked hard, but we continued to hit dead ends. I knew that somewhere there had to be a witness who just wasn’t coming forward. Bill and Sean continuously investigated anonymous tips that came in and Coop and I paired up doing door-to-door knocks. We all came up with zilch, and it was frustrating. All the other detectives were covering the active cases we couldn’t work, so they weren’t able to help much, either.

The following Wednesday I was sitting in my office deciding what to do next when my phone rang. I heard the deep, gruff, West Virginia voice of Captain John VanScoy on the other end.

“Detective Gallagher?” he asked.

“Yes, Captain,” I responded alertly, immediately remembering the videotape he’d said he was sending, and now wondering why I hadn’t received it.

“I was calling about that videotape you wanted,” he said in answer to my unasked question.

“Right. It just dawned on me that I haven’t received it yet. I’ve been tied up on another case, so I haven’t really thought about it. Did you mail it?” I was wondering if maybe the bureau’s secretary had just forgotten to give it to me.

“Well, no, ma’am. That’s what I’m callin’ about. The tape was blank.” His voice sounded genuinely apologetic.

“Blank? Why?” This I hadn’t expected.

“I don’t know,” he said, sounding puzzled. “Maybe there was a defect in the tape and it didn’t record or somethin’. I gave Annie the dates and times, like you asked, and when we looked at it, there wasn’t nothing there.”

Why did he watch the tape?
I wondered. If another agency had asked me to do the same thing, I would’ve just grabbed it and thrown it in the mailbox as requested. I could’ve cared less what was on it. This bothered me.

“You watched it?” I kept my voice even.

“Sure. Just wanted to make sure I had the right gal. How are ya comin’ along on this missing gal?”

How would he know if he had the “right one?”
I wondered. I never sent him a photo of Lizzie Johnston, nor did I even give him a description of her or her car. I didn’t want to talk to him anymore, and the longer I did, the more uneasy I felt.

“We’ve gone nowhere on the case,” I told him truthfully, adding silently,
until now.
“Actually, I’ll probably just inactivate it this week. I’ve got more important things going on than some missing girl,” I lied smoothly, “but thanks, Captain, for your effort. I need to be going now. If you ever need anything up here, feel free to call.”

After I ended my call with Captain VanScoy, I just stared at my phone. I wasn’t being paranoid; he was entirely too eager to ask where I was on the case, and it was pretty convenient that the tape was blank. I made a note to call Annie in a couple days to ask her about the tape, giving the captain those few days to let him forget about me and the case.

The tone of the conversation had definitely bothered me. It had carried an undercurrent of tension that hadn’t seemed consistent with his words. I had known all along that the majority of Matt Hensley’s story was true, but it wasn’t until just then that I knew that all of it was true. Knowing this, I also knew it was time to talk to Bobby Delphy.