SPIRIT OF CONSEQUENCE (A Spirit Walking Mystery Book 1) (4 page)

“Yes?”

“I’m having a discussion with my girlfriend.”

“Okay, what’s that got to do with me?”

“She says every man visits a prostitute at some time in his life and I say no.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Have you ever visited a prostitute?”

“No, of course not,” the man bellowed.

His heart raced and his body temperature rose. He was definitely lying. I stuck my hand through his stomach and gave Dodge a thumbs down.

Dodge patted the man on the shoulder. “Thank you, sir. I’m sorry for the intrusion.”

The man mumbled an obscenity under his breath, clearly indignant at being asked about a prostitute.

Dodge said into his phone, “I just asked a total stranger and he agrees with me. Not all men visit prostitutes.”

As the man walked quickly away, I slipped out of him.

“He was lying?” Dodge said into his phone.

“His body said he was.”

“Could you tell when, where, or who he’d visited?”

“No, I can’t read his mind, but I can tell you that his pulse accelerated and he started sweating.”

Dodge nodded. “Just like a lie detector.”

“I guess.” I shrugged.

“Sticking your hand out of his body was too weird. Let’s only do that if they’re lying. If I don’t see your hand, then I’ll know they’re telling the truth.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

Dodge smiled and winked at me. “We’ve got the makings of a great partnership, Samantha.”

“Who’s Samantha?” a voice said from behind us.

Oh great, we’d been partners for two minutes and someone had already caught us.

Chapter 5

Dodge stopped and spun around. He touched his earphone and said, “I’ll talk to you later, Samantha,” then tapped it, pretending to disconnect the call.

Standing behind us was a tall, muscular, red-haired man. He wore denim jeans, gray t-shirt silk-screened with an American flag, and a black leather bomber jacket.

Dodge smiled at him. “Hey Dexter, did you hear?”

“That you’re coming back to lead an investigation into the prostitute deaths?”

“Yes.”

“Of course, I heard. And you dodged my question.” Dexter eyed Dodge suspiciously. “Who is Samantha?”

“She’s a friend of mine.”

“It’s about time you got a new girlfriend.”

“I didn’t say she’s my girlfriend, I said she’s a friend.”

“But she’s a girl, right?”

“Yes.”

“Close enough. You haven’t talked about any woman since Cindy died. It’s about time you thought about dating again.”

“I’m not dating!” Dodge said, his tone elevating with each word.

“Easy, man. I loved my sister very much, but I know she wouldn’t want you brooding around. She’d want you to be happy.”

“I’m fine, Dexter.”

“That’s not what I hear,” Dexter mumbled under his breath.

Dodge’s brows narrowed. “What have you heard?”

“Never mind, I haven’t heard anything.” Dexter put his beefy, freckled hand around Dodge’s shoulders. “Maybe your relationship with Samantha can grow into something more than friendship.”

“I doubt it.”

Dexter removed his arm and frowned. “Why, is she ugly?”

Dodge glanced at me and then quickly back to his friend. “No, she’s pretty.”

Dexter looked over in my direction, shrugged, and then back to Dodge. “Then she’s short and fat?”

This time Dodge didn’t look at me. “No.”

“Oh,” Dexter’s tone deepened and he whispered, “She’s married, isn’t she?”

“Um,” Dodge stuttered, started to glance my way, but then looked back at Dexter. “No, I don’t think she’s married.”

Dexter’s eyes widened, he put his hand back on Dodge’s shoulder, and stopped walking. “You don’t know whether she’s married or not, Dodge?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re just friends.” Dodge started walking again. “Let’s go catch a killer.”

I followed Dodge and Dexter as they entered the station. They passed by the booking room and the chief’s office to a door at the end of the hall. We walked through it into a large room, separated into cubicles. Several were occupied by men and women in suits, probably other inspectors. Most were on the phone or typing on their computers. A few stood together and talked.

We walked over to where two desks faced each other. It was easy to spot Dodge’s. It was as neat as his apartment. The desk across from it was piled high with files, paper, coffee cups, and a couple of half-eaten donuts. Dexter immediately started straightening the piles.

I laughed as the top file slid to the floor.

Dodge frowned at me.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

Dexter must have thought Dodge’s frown was aimed at him because he picked up the file and his pace, straightening the desk. “I know it’s a mess, but it’s the way I work.”

“Just leave it.” Dodge took two files out of his desk drawer. “I’ve got the info we need here. Let’s use one of the conference rooms.”

“I hear Marge is joining us.”

“That’s what the chief says.”

“She’s a crazy bitch.”

Dodge scowled and this time it was definitely aimed at Dexter. “She is not.”

Dexter glared, then mumbled, “Okay, then she’s misunderstood.”

“Who’s misunderstood?” said a tall, sternly attractive woman in her mid-thirties with intense eyes as clear and blue as a tropical lagoon. She wore a tight Versace red dress, Prada red sandals, and carried a matching red Gucci purse. The woman had great taste, I’d give her that. It was the same dress I had chosen when going for the red look.

Dexter jumped back, his eyes wide. Was he afraid of this woman?

“Good morning, Marge,” Dodge said and nodded toward her. “I’m glad you’re on our team.”

She shook her head. “A team of misfits.” She pointed at Dexter. “You’re the biggest one here, so don’t be calling me crazy or a bitch.” Her brows furrowed in anger, but there was also playfulness in her tone.

Dexter’s face brightened with a huge smile. He put his arm around her shoulder. “A crazy bitch is just what we need to catch a killer.”

I followed them out of the squad room and into the main hallway. Marge definitely looked like a woman who lived on the edge. If I had met her before, I would have liked enjoying life through her.

They stopped in front of a door that said Conference Room A.

“Let’s take this one,” Dodge said.

Dexter stepped around Dodge and opened the door, “After you, my dear.”

Marge smiled and sauntered around both men.

Dodge scowled. “Don’t start already, Casanova.”

Dexter shrugged. “I can’t help it. I like the ladies.”

“Yeah, that’s how you landed on the chief’s bad side.”

“It’s not my fault his wife got trashed at the holiday party and ended up in my lap.”

“Sure, it’s not.” Dodge scowled. “Besides if you keep it up, I’m going to call Jessica.”

“Try and find her. The stupid Feds won’t even tell me where she’s working.”

“That’s what you get for marrying an undercover DEA agent.”

Dodge walked around Dexter and went into the room. Dexter followed and closed the door behind them. I was left standing in the hallway. That was a bit rude, but then again, doors aren’t a problem for me.

The door opened, Dodge came out.

I heard Dexter behind him say, “What are you doing?”

Dodge winked at me and said, “I thought I heard someone calling me.” He stepped into the hallway, I went into the conference room, and he came in behind me and closed the door.

Marge and Dexter sat at a rectangular table in the center of the room. One wall was covered with electronic whiteboards and another had a long table covered with several holographic computers. It was pretty high-tech for a police department.

Dodge laid the two files on the table. “I’m going to let the scheduling clerk know that we’ll be using this room for a while. I’ll be right back.”

He walked to the door and then glanced back at me. I waved him on and said, “I’m staying here.”

He shrugged and left the room. I was much more interested in Marge and Dexter and what they’d say when Dodge was out of earshot. I wasn’t disappointed.

Marge leaned forward. “Did Dodge really walk into the hostage situation without his gun or backup?”

Dexter nodded.

“Is he suicidal?”

Dexter rubbed his forehead. “Maybe.”

Marge’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to worry about him watching our backs.”

Dexter shook his head. “He’d never do anything to jeopardize our safety.”

“Just his own?”

“He took losing my sister really hard.”

“Standing next to her, watching her get shot, and then holding her while she died. It would be hard on anyone.”

Dexter nodded, but the pain was evident on his face. He obviously missed his sister, too.

So that’s what happened to his wife. No wonder he was suicidal.

Marge got up and started a coffeepot on a small table in the back of the room. In minutes the room was filled with the aroma of French Roast. I never liked coffee when I was alive and, even now, I usually vacate a body before they have coffee. It always smells nice but the taste is too bitter.

The door opened and Dodge came in. “We’ve got the room until we close the case.”

Marge poured three coffees and brought them to the table.

“Thanks, Marge,” Dodge said.

“Yeah, thanks Marge.” Dexter’s mouth slid easily into an insolent sexy grin that showed off straight white teeth and a bad boy charm that he seemed to cultivate. I bet he could seduce the clothes right off any woman with that look.

Marge rolled her eyes.

Dodge sat down and opened the files he had taken from his desk. “These are our victims.” He took out two pictures. “Sherece Cole and Mandy Winters.”

“Aren’t the photos available on the computer?”

“Of course.”

Marge strolled over, grabbed a computer and turned it on. A holographic keyboard appeared in front of the box and a twenty-five inch screen above it.

Dodge picked up the pictures. “I like to look at the real thing. Those holoscreens make everything look transparent.”

“I like to be able to manipulate the photo: focus in and out, flip it, reverse it, and enlarge it.”

A few seconds later both victims’ photos appeared on Marge’s screen.

“The new and the old,” Dexter smiled. “We’ve got it all covered.”

“Both prostitutes, right?” Marge asked as she sipped the coffee.

“Yes.”

Marge typed on the keyboard and the information showed on her screen under both pictures. She smiled and took another sip of coffee.

“Did they work on the same corner? Maybe it’s a pimp dispute,” Dexter suggested.

“No, Sherece worked down by the piers and Mandy stayed uptown.”

“How were they killed?” Marge asked.

“Ligature strangulation.” Dodge took out another picture. “There were some white fibers on their necks. The techs have matched them to some cheap cord. You can buy it at any grocery store or hardware store.”

Dexter picked up the picture. I leaned over his shoulder and looked at it. There was something around her neck.

Marge enlarged the photo on her screen. Dexter still held the photo in his hand, but stared at the computer screen. “What’s with the medallion?”

“It’s a medal of Saint Margaret of Cortona,” Dodge replied.

“Who?” Marge asked.

“According to the Internet, she’s the patron saint of sexual temptation and reformed prostitutes,” Dodge answered.

“A religious nut,” Marge said, with more than a hint of sarcasm. “Great.”

“It’s a cheap medallion. You can order it from at least fifteen websites.” Dodge took the picture back from Dexter, set it on the table, and picked up another. “This is a photo of the back of the medallion.”

Marge and Dexter looked closely.

“Is that an ‘F’?” Marge asked.

“Yes,” Dodge replied. “The other is an ‘S’.”

“It’s a sloppy job,” Dexter said.

“Yes, I figure the perp bought the medallions and then added the engraving himself.”

“Think it’s someone’s initial?” Marge asked.

“I don’t know.” Dodge shrugged. “Neither victim had any local family. Sherece is from Louisiana. She ran away at fourteen and has a rap sheet with the typical collars: drug possession, solicitation, and one arrest for assault.”

“Prostitution’s been legal in San Francisco for several years,” Marge interrupted. “Where are the solicitation charges from?”

“Two from Louisiana, the same year she ran away, and then Nevada, Oregon, and other cities in California,” Dodge said.

“She worked her way across our fine nation,” Dexter grunted.

Marge frowned at Dexter and then asked, “What was she hooked on?”

“She was an Olympus addict.”

Dexter shook his head. “The new and cheap thrill.”

“Yeah, twice the kick at half the price,” Marge added.

“Also the most addictive drug we’ve seen since meth,” Dodge finished her sentence.

I had heard of Olympus but the kids at my prep school and college weren’t into taking it. It was just too cheap. When you’ve got unlimited cash in your pocket, you don’t go for the cheap thrill. The big drug of choice at my schools was Zeon. It cost twice the amount and probably had four times the kick. One snort and your entire body flew. It was like free-falling from twenty thousand feet.

“What about the other one?” Marge pointed to the second victim’s photo on her screen.

“Mandy was an escort. She worked for Companion and Recreation Escorts and her going rate was five hundred dollars an hour.”

Dexter whistled.

Dodge frowned at him and continued, “She’s got no record and there wasn’t any indication of drug use.”

Marge set the photo back on the table. “Runaway?”

“Nope. She’s from New York. Her parents still live there.”

“They knew she was an escort?” Dexter asked.

Dodge shook his head. “No, they thought she was a model.”

“Were they surprised when you told them what she was doing here in San Francisco?” Dexter asked.