TRACE - CSI Reilly Steel #5 (Forensic novel Police Procedural Series) (4 page)

Chapter 4

Despite its promising start, the day did not get any more fruitful. Gary was still unable to get the real identities of the men on Jennifer’s dating site profile, but had promised that he would stay late to work on it.

‘Julius identified the knife in the kitchen though,’ he told Reilly when she checked in with the lab on her way home.

‘And?’

‘And,’ Julius, the more senior lab tech on the team replied, ‘it’s not your garden variety kitchen knife. These are made in Italy. They’re for top of the line kitchens, for people who are really serious about cooking. Nothing else in your victim’s kitchen even comes close.’

Julius didn’t expect his boss to show much enthusiasm. She was notoriously cool and calm. He suspected the only thing that really got Reilly Steel excited was seeing a killer get cuffed. Other than that, she was the consummate professional.

‘Ok, thanks guys,’ she said. She didn’t tell Gary not to stay too late. Hadn’t she put in long hours at the start of her career? She was putting them in still. It was part of the job.

Reilly had stopped by the shops in Ranelagh on the way home and picked up some fresh shrimp. Now she had a paella simmering on the stovetop, and an Adele CD playing low on the stereo. The female vocalist crooned through the speakers, making Reilly feel like she had company.

There was a storm wailing outside, rain lashing her apartment windows. With the lights turned low and the aromatic smells from dinner wafting through the room, it seemed like the perfect set up for a date.

She recalled the evenings in Clearwater she spent with Todd and Daniel, drinking wine, eating Daniel’s cooking and forgetting about casework albeit only briefly. It had made her feel a little more like she had the balance in her life right.

Now, she was about to sit at the table and eat her dinner while poring over files. Such was the reality of her working life in Dublin.

It wasn’t that she wanted Todd to come here and for them to resume their relationship; that wasn't an option, and in any case she still wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about him. They had spent a brief and tumultuous affair, made even more intense by the personal nature of the case they were working. They had been very physically attracted to each other that was for sure, but she didn’t know if a real emotional connection lay under that, or whether it was the situation they were in that had made things feel so intense. The trouble was, Reilly wasn’t very good at sorting out her feelings about her personal life. That’s why she threw everything she had into work; it was just easier. The only person she really needed was her father. Mike was her only remaining family, and while she’d originally come to Ireland to keep an eye on him, he’d since returned to the States. At least in Dublin, even if they didn’t see much of each other, they’d shared the same night and day. She knew the bond she shared with Mike was stronger than she would ever have with another person, and was borne of their shared grief and anger about her mum and Jess, as well as their loneliness and guilt at being the ones left behind.

She worked out a plan of attack for the Armstrong case. Because it had been identified in a previous case, the one that had necessitated her leave, but remained unsolved, the detectives already had a list of the places in the city that used anitmine aka Joker fruit, and lists of those who had licenses to use it and import it. It was a logical place to start. It was decided that she and Chris would visit the restaurants that Jennifer had been to, to check out the antimine angle, and their victim she had been there with the same person, or if any of her dates were traceable.

Meanwhile, the rest of the team was still scouring trace evidence found at the murder scene. There must have been something else useful left behind; it was just a matter of finding it. Movies gave the impression that these things were discovered straight away, but in reality it was a long and arduous process.

So while the substance and its food-related equivalent wasn’t much of a start, it was something. Reilly was confident that they would get a decent lead soon, but given that it hadn’t been all that long since the previous finding, she was worried that the killer would strike again before they found him. It was that kind of case. There was no violence in Jennifer’s killing; it was clinical, academic. They were dealing with someone who killed for pleasure, not out of passion. They had to get their sights on him before he got brave enough to try again.

Her paella was ready. Perfectly cooked, the edges slightly crunchy. She contemplated pouring a glass of wine to accompany it and then thought better of it. She had work to do and the jet lag still lingered.

She sat down at her small table, and took out Grace Gorman’s missing person file. Since the discovery of the necklace, she must have read it tens of times by now, but she still thought something might jump out at her. There was the distraught mother, the angry father. There was the boyfriend, strangely ambivalent, but then he was just a kid. She thought about what she’d said to Lucy about things jumping out after so many years, and decided that Darren Keating should be re-interviewed: it would help to know what kind of person he had grown into. He may remember things that he was scared to reveal then. If he and Grace had been in any trouble for example, he might not have wanted to say at the time. But now it would be different.

Then there were the interviews with Lucy herself. Short and gentle, because she was so young. Also because Jack Gorman would have hung, drawn and quartered anyone who upset her.

Did your sister have nice friends?

I don’t know. I suppose so. They laughed a lot.

Did you like her boyfriend?

I don’t know…not really. He always told me to go away, get out of the way.

Did you ever see them doing anything naughty?

I don’t know.

Did your sister ever tell you that she had a secret? Something she didn’t want your parents to know?

I don’t think so. Sometimes she got angry with them.

Why did Grace get angry with them?

They wouldn’t let her go out at night, down to the shops.

Do you like your parents? Are they good to you?

Yes.

That was it. Nothing of great value there, unless you knew to read between the lines a bit.

The sisters had been reasonably close in age, but eleven year old Lucy was just young enough to have been a nuisance and perhaps sometimes a confidant. It could be that she knew more than she thought she did. It was hard to get information out of young children, Reilly knew.

Most adults were very suggestive and it was easy to get them to remember things that they had never seen. If you asked a person: ‘Did you see the man in the blue hoodie?’ they would remember that, even if the man was wearing red.

But it was even easier with children. You had to be very careful not to influence them. Their testimonies were often not reliable in court. But it might help to talk to Lucy again now, to find out if she had buried something down deep. Some clue that might help. After all this time, it might even help to have her hypnotized. Reilly didn’t always put that much stock in that kind of thing, but while on an FBI task force back in the States she had seen people remember a lot when they relaxed their minds a little. It could have remarkable results.

She took a couple of bites of paella, felt the firm flesh of the shrimp squeeze and pop beneath the pressure of her teeth. She suddenly thought of all the tiny capillaries and veins visible through shrimp skin, its flesh-like pinkness. Suddenly, the food had turned repulsive in her mouth and she felt as though she couldn’t eat another bite. She got up and scraped the rest of her bowl, and the leftovers into the bin.

It was probably all this thought of food, mixed in with death. Maybe she was getting soften as she got older.

Reilly took a long bath instead, remembering the drawn out Florida heat, all the while trying to forget Todd Forrest’s hands on her body as they made love into the night.

Chapter 5

There are many layers to the body, and each has its own particular use and value. The protective outer layer, a tell-tale of age and quality. Underneath the layer of subcutaneous fat, most to be cut away with a flinching knife, leaving just the finest coating. Then the working muscles, the flesh and blood that lets us all move around, hurting others with careless movements and thoughtless words.

What happens to the body when it is poisoned? Oh, all the things you would expect. The discoloration of surface skin, the dilating and then shrinking of the pupils. The heart speeds up, pumping poison to the extremities faster as it struggles to comprehend what is happening. The veins shrink like rivers in drought. Eventually the muscles begin to harden, the tongue lies fat and heavy like a sated slug in the mouth.

I have no desire to mutilate these women. I am a clean person. I always teach my trainees the importance of keeping a tidy workspace. If I hadn’t been interrupted the other night, I would have cleaned up after myself. A tiny bit of sloppiness which won’t be repeated next time.

These women have done enough to make themselves unattractive. I need not peel back their skin, take the bones out of the putrid flesh. I can see below their deceptively firm and lustrous skin to the merciless harridans they are. Obsessed with only themselves, and with getting ahead. No time to stop and love someone. No time to see what a person might have to offer them.

They think they have it all, until the moment they realize it’s all being taken away…

When Reilly woke up the next day, it was to the grey, rain-misted Dublin skyline. She had dreamt of the Gulf Coast white beaches and palm trees, the sun’s warmth enveloping her limbs. Wishful thinking.

She dressed with less enthusiasm that she had the day before. It was too late to go for a run, and too wet in any case. She studied her body for a long moment in the mirror. Florida was gradually being leached out of her limbs, leaving them pale. Despite the fact that she had been neglecting exercise since her return, her body was still slender and strong. Her hair fell shining and blonde to her shoulder blades. She looked the same. She looked good. So why did she feel so different? As if she wasn't quite sure whether she belonged back in Florida or here?

In any case, she had to keep going. Murders didn’t solve themselves. She would take a round of Vitamin C and soon be back to normal.

And this terrible Irish summer weather was enough to give anyone second thoughts about coming back.

‘OK, so here’s the lowdown,’ said Gary later at the lab. ‘I’ve managed to trace most of the dating accounts Jennifer was communicating with.’

Gary, Chris and Reilly were going over the identities of the men Jennifer had connected with recently. They were in the poky little conference room down the hallway from the lab. Reilly couldn’t help but be acutely aware of Chris, right next to her, emanating warmth and that woody scent he had. He had freshly showered before work she knew, his hair slightly damp and citrus smelling.

Then she caught herself, horrified. What was she
doing
? She couldn’t believe she was thinking like this. Her mind was all over the place.

‘The trouble is, a lot of these people set up bogus email accounts, with fake names. Some of them are married, but obviously we know some of them have even more sinister reasons for doing it.’

‘So what can you tell us then?’ Chris asked.

‘Honestly? Not that much. I’ve got two names of guys that she was seeing a while ago, who seem to have set up their accounts with real names. But according to their online conversations, they went out on a couple of dates and that was it.’

‘We’ll follow up anyway. At this point, everyone who’s ever spoken to the woman is a suspect. We’ve got nothing else.’

‘I’m going to do my best to see what else I can find. If these guys used the same email accounts for anything else, I might be able to get a name.’

‘OK, thanks, Gary,’ said Reilly. ‘It’s a start.’

‘Hey, one more thing. Lucy mentioned you wanted to help out on the task force for her sister.’ He paused a little, rare for him. ‘Do you think I could help too? I …ah, don’t have much experience with cold cases and I’d like to get some.’

‘I’d need to know that your personal feelings wouldn’t cloud your judgement,’ Reilly said, seeing right through him.

‘What personal feelings?’ said Gary, assuming an innocent face. ‘I barely have feelings at all.’

‘I’ll let you know,’ said Reilly. ‘But right now this investigation is our priority.’

‘Of course. But I’m ready whenever.’

‘OK thanks. In the meantime, keep your mind on the matter in hand,’ she told him, aware that she sounded a little like Jack Gorman. ‘For this one, we need everything you’ve got.’

Outside in the hallway, she said to Chris: ‘I wish people wouldn’t fall in love with their colleagues. It makes everything so complicated.’

She was joking but his reply was surprisingly serious. ‘People have to fall in love with someone, I suppose.’

Later in the lab, Reilly looked through the team’s analysis from the crime scene.

‘Any promising hair samples?’

‘A few,’ said Lucy. ‘We’ve definitely got some that aren’t from the victim.’

‘And the bed thing is interesting, don’t you think?’ Gary piped up, referring to the imprint he’d noted on the mattress.

‘Interesting, yes,’ she replied. ‘I’m not sure what it really tells us, though. The perp got tired? Has intimacy issues?’

‘There are two more things,’ he told her.

‘Feels like Christmas,’ said Reilly with uncharacteristic snark.

‘OK boss, seems you brought back more than a tan from Florida,’ Gary replied good-naturedly. ‘But look at this.’ He moved to a nearby laptop and brought up an enlarged image onscreen. It was of some wood, crisscrossed with gouges. ‘It’s the victim’s chopping board. You can see the old marks where she has been chopping with a blunt knife. On top of those are really slight, short marks. I’m willing to bet that they were made by the knife at the scene.’