SPIRIT OF CONSEQUENCE (A Spirit Walking Mystery Book 1) (5 page)

“No, because I didn’t tell them.”

“It’s going to come out if this guy kills again, and I heard there’s already a newspaper reporter asking questions about a serial killer who targets prostitutes. Rumor has it he called the mayor and asked for a statement about the killings,” Dexter said.

The corners of Dodge’s mouth turned up slightly. “The newspapers haven’t got wind of this yet.”

Dexter pulled his head back and stared at Dodge. “Then who called the mayor?”

“Mrs. Cranks.”

Dexter laughed.

Marge looked perplexed. “Who’s Mrs. Cranks?”

Dodge looked down at the table. “She’s my landlady.”

Dexter laughed louder. “She’s got to be at least ninety years old and she’s got a crush on Dodge. She’ll do anything that boy asks her to do.”

Dodge raised his eyes and shrugged, then began to laugh, too. Soon Marge had joined them.

The mood changed when they started reviewing the crime scene photos. They each looked at a picture and then passed it along. Marge brought them up on her screen. After everyone had a chance to inspect the picture, they talked about what each of them had seen in the photo. It was tedious work and watching them was even worse. Marge made notes under each photo and then sent them over to the electronic whiteboards. It was strange to see the information in two places – Marge’s screen and the whiteboard. Dodge would get up and look at the information on the whiteboard rather than the computer screen.

Both of the women were found in bed, Sherece at a dive motel a few blocks from the corner where she worked. When prostitution was legalized, several motels were designated by the city as the prostitutes’ work zone. If this was a city motel, then the city needed to spend a little more of the tax money on the place. Dirty bedspread, stained carpet, and rickety furniture were evident in the pictures. It was a dump.

Mandy, on the other hand, was discovered at her own apartment. They were both lying face up in the middle of the bed, arms stretched out and legs together.

Dodge took the words right out of my mouth. “They were positioned after they died into this crucifixion pose and the medallions were added.”

Marge shook her head. “Definitely a religious nut.”

Next they looked at the autopsy reports. There were multiple pictures of the wounds on the women’s necks, as well as other marks on the body. Sherece had bruises on her legs and arms. Mandy’s skin looked picture perfect, not a mark on it.

“Are these marks on Sherece’s body by the perp?” Dexter asked.

“No, the medical examiner says they were a few days old.”

“She probably got a beating from a john or her pimp.” Marge suggested.

“Probably,” Dodge took one photo out of each file, then continued, “Each woman also had this tattoo,” Dodge pointed to a spot in both photos, “in the center of their backs.”

Dexter leaned forward and looked at the picture. “What is it?”

“I have no idea.” Dodge shrugged.

Marge took the photos and brought them closer to her. “It looks like a rock.”

Dexter leaned back. “It looks like a blob to me but maybe it’s a rock. Why would anyone get a tattoo of a rock?”

“They didn’t. The ME says it was added after they died.”

Okay, this was tedious. Who cares? The women were dead. Sitting here and talking about it wasn’t going to find their killer.

I leaned over Dodge’s shoulder and whispered into his ear, “This is boring. Can’t we go and interrogate someone?”

He coughed and then set down the autopsy report. “There are two directions we need to explore: the prostitute angle and then the religious nature of these crimes.”

“I’ll take the prostitutes,” Dexter volunteered.

“Good, take Marge with you. Talk to the girls who worked the pier with Sherece. They might talk to Marge more than you, so hang back and let her work the girls.” Dexter frowned, but Dodge continued, “Ask if they’ve seen anyone hanging around or preaching to them about the evils of prostitution.”

Dodge pulled out a red business card. “I’ll go and talk to someone at Mandy’s escort service. It’s over on Entertainment Street. I’ll try and find out if Mandy had a date on the day she was killed.”

“She almost certainly had more than one, but they’re not going to talk to you without a warrant,” Marge suggested.

“Probably not. I’ll take a first pass at them and then threaten to get a warrant and bring an entire squad of officers in to search all their files. That may make them a little more cooperative. If not, I’ll get the warrant and go back.”

Marge nodded, pushed a few buttons on her computer and something started printing on the printer in the corner. “There are our notes from today. You can put them in your paper files. Then she stood. “Let’s go, Dexter. We’ve got a corner to visit.”

Dexter smiled and joined her. “My favorite pastime – watching the ladies.”

Marge rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised your wife likes you watching the ladies.”

“Oh, she’s okay with me watching.”

“But if he touches, she’ll break both his arms,” Dodge added.

Marge strolled toward the door. Dexter followed her.

Dodge called after them. “Let’s meet back here around six to compare notes.”

They nodded and left the conference room.

I sat down next to Dodge. “Is police work always this tedious?”

“I’m afraid it’s not like you see on television,” he said, smiling. “We can’t find the body, interrogate suspects, and discover the killer in an hour.”

“I suppose.” I glanced at the victim’s photos that were still strewn across the table. “Except for being prostitutes, these two don’t have much in common.”

“Prostitutes have always been favorite victims for killers. There’s easy access to them, and most of the time, nobody cares when they disappear.”

“I can see that in other cities, but it’s legal here in San Francisco, right?”

“Yes, they legalized and regulated it about seven years ago. We rarely have any problems with the girls or the clients. All of the girls, from the high-class escorts to the ones walking the streets, are tested every week. The city set up specific hotels for them to use and all the money received is taxed. That money is used to fund the testing clinics, hotels, and a women’s shelter.”

“How many other cities have legalized prostitution?”

“As far as I know, it’s only legal in New York, New Orleans, Las Vegas, and here.”

I grinned. “Kind of makes your town special, doesn’t it?”

“I guess.” Dodge stood. “Let’s go talk to Mandy’s boss.”

I watched as Dodge picked up all of the papers and photos, returned them to the file folders, grabbed the papers Marge had printed, and then put them in a two-drawer file cabinet next to the computer table. Then he cleared off the paper cups from the coffee that the three of them had consumed in the last several hours. Man, he was a little obsessive, wasn’t he?

Finally, he finished cleaning and we left the conference room. Being inside a prostitute or madam hadn’t been part of my experiences so far. This could be very interesting.

Chapter 6

We exited the station through a back door into a large parking garage.

Dodge waved to the burly attendant wearing grease-stained overalls. “I need a car.”

“Sure.” The man threw him a set of keys and laughed. “Take the Dodge, Dodge.”

Dodge caught the keys in midair and chuckled. “That just gets funnier and funnier every time you say it, Ken.”

Ken laughed louder and Dodge turned to me. “He’s an idiot, but he does take good care of our police vehicles, so I humor him.”

“Who you talking to, Dodge?” Ken asked.

Dodge covered his ear. “It’s my phone.”

“Oh,” Ken said. “The Dodge’s gears are sticking a little bit, so take it easy on her.”

Dodge nodded. He opened his door and I slid through the passenger door.

He reached into the center console, took out an earphone, and put it in his ear. He winked at me. “This will keep people from asking who I’m talking to.”

“Good idea. How long will it take to get to the escort service?”

“Only a few minutes. It’s up on Entertainment Street. I’m going to make a stop first. It’s almost one o’clock and I’m hungry, aren’t you?”

“I don’t get hungry.”

“No?”

“No, but if you want to order something really good,” I said and gave him a twisted smile, “I can slip in and have a bite, too.”

“Not a chance,” Dodge protested, his eyes widened and he shook his head. “I don’t want you jumping into my body. I can wait.”

“It won’t bother me to watch you eat. If you’re hungry, get something.”

“Okay. I’ll make it quick.” He pulled to the curb, jumped out, and bought a hot dog from a street vendor.

Yuck! There was no chance of my sampling that. I remember reading the ingredients in a hot dog once. It was frightening. The first three weren’t even meat.

A few minutes later, he climbed back into the car, put his soda in the cup holder, and shoved in the last bite of his lunch. “Thanks,” he said when he finished chewing.

“Don’t thank me when you get indigestion from eating that thing.”

“Not a dog eater?” he said with a trace of a smirk.

His smile seemed to come much more naturally now. It was nice to see. I shook my head. “No.”

“Have you ever had one?” he asked as he started the car’s engine.

“Well, no, but do you know what’s in them?”

“I never look at food packages. I let my taste buds decide whether something is worth eating or not.”

“Then you’re going to consume a lot of bad food, Dodge.”

He winked at me. “Sometimes bad can be very good.”

I frowned at him. “I’ll take your word for it.”

He laughed. It was rich and full. It was even better than his smile. As he pulled away from the curb, he asked, “How wealthy were you when you were alive?”

“My net worth?”

“Sure.”

“Ten or twelve.”

“Ten or twelve what?” he asked as he sipped his Coke.

“Billion.” I shrugged.

Dodge spit Coke all over the windshield.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

He coughed several times and then set his soda back into the cup holder. “Who got your money when you died?”

I tilted my head at him. That was a good question and one I hadn’t thought about. “I don’t know.”

“Did you have a will?”

“Not really. I didn’t expect to die at twenty-five. Who gets your money if you don’t leave a will?”

“Brothers or sisters?”

“I was an only child.”

“Parents?”

“No, they’re dead.”

“Any other relatives hanging around.”

“Not that I know of.”

Dodge scowled. “Come on, Samantha, everyone has at least one relative.”

“Okay,” I replied with some annoyance, then sighed loudly hiding the knot that formed in my stomach. “I have an uncle.”

“Then he probably got the money.”

“Oh, no.” I shuddered. “He’s a total creep and my parents made sure that every document they ever signed had a clause in it about Uncle Ted.”

Dodge shrugged. “Then I guess the state got your money.”

“Well, that sucks, too.”

“Yep.”

I leaned my head back on the seat and thought about the businesses, restaurants, and hotels that I had owned. Before I died, a group of lawyers led by Uncle George administered my money. Uncle was an honorary title for George rather than his being a real blood relative. I hadn’t cared much about my employees when I was alive, being too busy going from one party to another, enjoying life. Now, I wondered, what happened to them when I died? If the state acquired all of my holdings, would they keep the businesses or their employees?

I was sure Uncle Ted had made a play for my money. It would be totally out of character if he hadn’t and there are plenty of seedy lawyers who would have salivated enough over a cut of my money to fight Uncle George on Ted’s behalf. A quiver ran up my spine.

“Are you cold, Samantha?” Dodge asked.

“Oh no, I was just remembering Uncle Ted.”

“A real sleaze, huh?”

“Yes, he was always showing up to family functions so drunk he couldn’t stand up.”

“How’s he related to you?”

“He was my mom’s only brother. I think she thought less of him than my dad did, and that’s saying quite a bit. My dad despised him.”

“That’s too bad.”

“No,” I said curtly. “Ted deserved everything he ever got!”

Dodge raised his eyebrows.

“I can’t remember a birthday or holiday before I was six that he didn’t show up and wreck. The Christmas I was four, he puked on our Christmas tree. All of the presents underneath were covered, too. My birthdays were worse. He’d always show up with a gift that was stupid. Like when I was five. He brought me a baby gift. It was these little plastic people that waddled. The box said for ages one to three. I was five. He picked me up so I could blow out the candles on my cake and dropped me. I got frosting all over the beautiful white lace dress that my mom had bought me.”

“What happened after you were six? Did he finally go away?”

I didn’t say anything. Just thinking about Uncle Ted made my stomach tie up in knots and the bile in my stomach, if I actually had one, worked its way up my esophagus.

“Samantha?” Dodge inquired, concern evident in his tone and face. “It’s okay; you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m fine. It was a long time ago. It was the Christmas after my sixth birthday. My parents were in Italy, I think. They were always flying off to one place or another.”

“You spent a lot of holidays alone?”

“No, I had Uncle George and Jed, his son. They were my family, too.”

“What happened at Christmas?”

I took a deep breath, settling my stomach. “It was early in the morning. The night before we’d had a huge dinner, just Uncle George, Jed, myself, and Sylvia, Uncle George’s girlfriend and our cook. After dinner we watched
White Christmas
. It’s my favorite Christmas movie. Then Jed and I got out chocolate chip cookies and milk and left them for Santa.”

The lines of his mouth shifted slightly. “I can just see you sneaking down early to catch Santa.”

I flashed him a smile, remembering all the times I’d gotten up early hoping to see Santa. “Yes, that’s exactly what I was doing. It had to be four in the morning. Everyone in the house was asleep. I crept down the stairs and over to the Christmas tree. The whole floor beneath the tree was covered in presents for Jed and me. Then I noticed that the milk and cookies were gone.”

“They were?”

“Yes, it was the tradition in our family that whoever found the plate and glass, got to open their gifts first. So I went looking.”

“Did you find them?”

I gulped down the bile that rose in my throat and nodded.

“And Uncle Ted?”

I closed my eyes and nodded, again, and continued, “The glass and plate were in my dad’s office, sitting on his desk. I wasn’t allowed in there but I was so excited, I ran over and grabbed them. When I turned to leave, I saw Uncle Ted lying on the couch. Why didn’t I just leave the room?”

“Because you were six and he was your uncle.”

“I guess. I went over and tapped him on the shoulder. I wanted to show him that I found the plate.”

“What did he do?”

“I must have scared him because he threw his fist at me.” I reached toward the side of my face, remembering the pain and shock I had felt that morning. “I went flying across the room.”

“He hit you?”

“I shouldn’t have tried to wake him up. I started crying and he came over to me. I thought he would apologize, but he didn’t. He grabbed me and put his hand over my mouth.”

“Trying to keep you quiet?”

“I’m sure that was it, but it scared the hell out of me. I struggled in his arms. The more I thrashed, the tighter he held me. Finally he threw me down on the couch and held my legs with his and had his hand over my mouth.” My body shook then and now. “That wasn’t the worst part. The look in his eyes scared me more than anything. They were so intense and he had this thin smile across his face.”

My heart pounded, just like it had that morning. I didn’t speak for a long time and Dodge didn’t ask me to.

A few minutes later, Dodge said, “Finish the story, Samantha.”

I kept my eyes closed and continued. “He slid his free hand under my pajamas. It was my new frilly pink nightgown. I’d just opened it the night before. We always got new pajamas to go to bed on Christmas Eve.” I shook my head and opened my eyes. “I’m rambling. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Well, he started touching me and then Jed came in. He’d come down, seen the tree, and gone looking for the glass and plate, too. When he saw Uncle Ted, he jumped on his back and started screaming. Uncle Ted let go of me and I started screaming too. Then Uncle George came in. He had one of his pipes hanging from his mouth. He hadn’t smoked for years, but still liked to chew on them. I was still lying on the couch with my nightgown up to my chest. He took one look at me and literally picked up Uncle Ted and carried him out of the room.” I could feel tears running down my cheeks for the first time since I’d died, but couldn’t even reach up to wipe them away.

“I’m sorry, Samantha.”

“It was so long ago, I don’t know why it still bothers me.” I shrugged.

“We never forget the times when we felt helpless or vulnerable. They stay with us and help mold us into the person we become.” His jaw tightened, but his voice was tender.

I had felt so weak and powerless that day that I made a pact with myself: I would never let anyone have power over me again. Dodge was right. It had shaped me into the person I was and no one told me what to do or when to do it. I was in control!

A few minutes later we pulled on to Entertainment Street. It contained two multiplex movie theaters, five Broadway-style theaters, an opera house, four museums, a baseball stadium at one end and the football arena at the other. In the middle was a four-story parking structure for all the private limos. It sure made things convenient. When I was alive, I often came to the city to see plays and my parents were big supporters of the opera.

Dodge pulled into the parking structure, putting his car in a reserved parking slot on the first floor.

“You’re going to get a ticket for parking here.”

He put a sign on the dashboard that said, “On duty police officer.”

“Convenient.”

He nodded and got out of the car. I slid through the passenger door and joined him as he walked out of the parking structure. Dodge pulled his jacket closed and zipped it up. Was it cold outside or was he just hiding his shoulder holster? I sure missed the sunshine on my face but the cold – I didn’t miss it at all!

“Who are we talking to?” I asked.

“The business card belongs to Miss Mona Person.”

I laughed. “Mona’s a good name for a Madam, don’t you think?”

He smiled. “As good as any.”

I followed him down Entertainment Street to a three-story black building with several floor length windows on each floor. Two men dressed in black, red, and gold uniforms stood at the front door. One was a distinguished looking older man, maybe fifty, with black hair graying at the temples. The other was much younger with dark wavy brown hair. He was quite handsome and could have passed as one of the escorts rather than a doorman.

The Companion and Recreation Escort’s front door was etched with a CARE monogram: Escorts that care – a nice touch. The two men stepped in front of Dodge as he approached.

“Can we help you sir?” the older gentlemen asked.