Two Graves (A Kesle City Homicide Novel) (14 page)

“What?” Munro said, sitting straighter. The cops rarely clean a site. Gather evidence, make a bigger mess, but you had to clean it up yourself or hire a blood crew.

“Yup, they sent their own guys in.”

“OK,” Munro said, drumming a little beat on his desk. “I’m getting a little more interested. But you can’t connect this kid?”

“Not yet.”

“Ya, not yet. OK, who’s running the task force? How many they got on the task force? What divisions are involved?”

“I don’t have too much. My information is, they pulled Keough in to head it and it is out of Southfield.”

“Keough? I can go with that. He is on his way out and would make a good scapegoat if the investigation goes bad. Two killings aren’t much to warrant a task force. There has to be more.”

Lewery sensed Munro starting to weaken and kept pushing. “I know. That’s where the kid and especially the clean up comes in.”

“Maybe. Anyway, Keough is a good administrator but who’s going on lead? Are they going to use someone in Southfield?” Munro asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to find out. No way it’s Mann.”

Munro nodded. “No, they wouldn’t put Mann in. He’s pissed in too many ponds to catch anything like this. This could be a career maker and his career was screwed years ago. He isn’t exactly a political player.”

Munro stared at Lewery, who knew enough to stay quiet for a change. The Mayor would piss tacks knowing there was a leak about a serial killer especially after just announcing his candidacy. However, he didn’t want to go out too far, yet. But damn, that would sell some papers.

Munro rubbed his hands together and then sighed deeply. “What you got is weak.”

Munro held up his hand when Lewery tried to speak. “Shut up and just listen. You’re weak, very weak. But if your source is good, go with another rewrite. Use your original but go slow on the serial killer angle. For now, write it up as possible connections between the two killings. Nothing stronger than that. And don’t mention the task force yet. Got it?”

Lewery was about to argue and stopped. He would play Munro’s way for now. He would dig some more and see if he could get something more for the next few days. As long as he was keeping the flame burning, he could wait to throw on some gasoline.

“It seems you have been busy,” Mann said, his irritation obvious. He had just seen the bodies of the two shooters Degget had killed. On one hand, he had finally located his prime suspects for the Marina killing. On the other hand, they weren’t going to be doing anymore talking. Literally another dead end on Angelino.

Degget looked up at Mann. “Yes, sir.”

Mann stared hard at Degget. They were in one of the interrogation rooms at Central. Mann got the call because Degget was currently under his command on the Task Force. On the way down, Mann had been considering Degget. He knew Degget had sloughed off some of his work on one of the uniforms. Mann might have considered cutting him loose but, Davis aside, Degget was the best bet Mann had had at Angelino in years.

Degget glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room. Then he looked behind to see if there was a one-way mirror. There was just a cement wall but Mann knew what he was looking for. Mann walked over and pulled the plug on the video and sound feeds. Then he took a seat across from Degget.

“You know you just killed my best suspects in a shooting that I was planning on tracing back to Angelino.”

“Sorry, Lou. Next time I’ll let them waste my ass so I don’t screw up your case. At least I must be shaking something loose to have them after me but I sure don’t know what it is unless Angelino is just cleaning up.”

“Angelino is pretty vindictive. But there might be an easier answer,” Mann said.

Degget raised his eyebrows. “Ya?”

“You remember the guy with the shotgun tonight? He was the cousin of one of the guys you killed in your apartment.”

Degget thought for a moment. “That makes sense ‘cause I sure don’t have shit.”

“What have you been doing? Arnie wasn’t any help?”

“When I couldn’t even draw my gun without screaming, I figured my doctor was right and I should just heal. I spent last week on my back buying and selling stuff on Ebay. As for your buddy, he’s in Arizona until next week. I’m hoping to hook up with him on Monday.”

“And then?”

“I’ve already got an organizational chart of SOCU. I’m going to start looking into each member of the squad.”

Mann nodded. “You know what kind of target you are painting on yourself?”

“Apparently,” Degget said, a wry smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. Mann could see determination in those eyes. Degget wasn’t going to stop – which meant he needed protection. Damn it, Mann thought to himself, did he have to make a son out of every detective on his watch? Probably. Besides, this one was related to Davis. That did make him family.

“OK’” Mann said, “But I need everybody concentrating on this task force. You’re working for me or I transfer you out. I want this nut off the streets. We have some leads coming in that are going to be more solid than the gang bull.”

“I never really thought it was a gang,” Degget said, trying to keep up with Mann’s sudden shift. “That’s why I was cool with dogging it while I, uh, followed other avenues.”

“It’s not a gang,” Mann admitted. “However, the Mayor has his reasons not to be convinced. He would like nothing better than the gang angle. That means I have to waste time on it. So, since the ivory tower says keep working the gang angle, that is your assignment until further notice. You are working for me. You report to me. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Degget replied.

“However,” Mann added, walking toward the corner of the room, “keep me informed of any developments. When the time comes, you don’t have to be alone in that alley. And if you are right, you damn well don’t want to be.”

Mann plugged the feeds back in and went to the door. “Get cleaned up. The OIS pukes will have some more questions but they'll clear you on this tonight. Get back to work in the morning. And let me know if Arnie gives you anything.”

Removing the envelope from his inside coat pocket with a piece of tissue, Preston dropped it in the mailbox.

Digging in his pocket, he brought out a caffeine pill. He popped the small, pink pill into his mouth and dry swallowed it. He needed the pills to keep awake.

He was tired most of the time, now. He spent all his free time hunting. For the first time in his life, he was the hunter! Casting his eye along the sidewalk, he watched people jostle each other, rudely pushing ahead to gain an extra three seconds, only to be stopped at the next crosswalk.

Beware, I am watching. I am vengeance! And my power will be that of legend.

But he was tired.

He needed a plan. This hit and miss approach was getting him nowhere. He had been lucky in the past but that luck might not hold. Obviously, it hadn’t. Three days and he had not found a single match. He had to think!

His gift was brains.

Think! Hard to think when he was so tired.

He quickly thumbed through the book of pictures. A light rage filled his thoughts as he remembered the years of torment. Then, he remembered the killings. He remembered the revenge…the power. A satisfied warmth passed through him and he smiled a harsh, unfeeling smile. He shifted his jacket to cover the growing erection in his pants.

He had another almost ready. He’d spent so many late nights following him, learning his routine, and planning. This one was going to be incredible. He was almost ready. He had most of his supplies. All he needed was a delivery and a quick trip to the country.

He glanced at the mailbox one more time. He expected the contents of his little package to cause quite a stir when they arrived.

While he waited for Greer, Mann scanned Buchanan’s postmortem report. There was very little physical evidence once again. No fingerprints. The killer had wiped everything down. They hadn’t even found a strand of hair.

Mann sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He looked up at the sound of a knock. He motioned Greer into the office.

“Evening, Lou.”

Mann thought Greer looked tired. He probably had been following the doctor most of the night. “What do you have on the doctor?”

Greer already had his notebook out. “I questioned Dr. Michels again today.”

“And?”

“He says that he went to her apartment. He rang her buzzer but didn’t get any answer. He said he was pissed off and went for a drive. You know, big doctor stood up by the lowly nurse. Then, he thought maybe she had been in the shower or something so he went back. He still got nothing so he went home.”

“No alibi?”

“He says that he doesn’t remember anybody that saw him. He did call his service from his cell. We checked with his provider and he did make the call. They are backtracking the tower but he says he did it from the parking lot of the vic’s apartment so we know where that’s headed – parking lot or the basement, same difference.”

Mann thought for a moment. The doctor was the perfect suspect. He had the opportunity and definitely had the means. If he was a psycho, the motive could be anything. However, they would have to go slow if they wanted to build a case with very little physical evidence.

“He won’t voluntarily give a DNA sample,” Greer added.

“He give you a reason?”

“He felt it was an intrusion on his rights to be catalogued in the system,” Greer said.

“OK, give him some rope,” Mann decided. “I want you to do some more checking on him. Go back and get some alibis for the other two killings. That will give us something more. If he’s our boy, he’s going to do it again. Monitor him. I think that we might want to put a tail on him. I’ll clear it with Keough and get some more bodies.”

“It’s just subjective opinion,” Greer said slowly, “but he seemed really freaked by the whole thing. I think he’s feeling guilty for being pissed off at her.”

“Stay on him but go slow for now. If we get anything from the other killings, we’ll go for a warrant for the DNA.”

The room was pitch black.

From the other room, he could hear the steady drip of water. Drip, plop, ping. Drip, plop, ping. Drip, plop, ping. You’d think he’d fix it. Kraemer was destroying his Zen. He always had.

Of all the bullies, David Kraemer was the worst. A blond, blue eyed Adonis who lived to terrorize the defenseless, he was perpetually tanned and wealthy. He used his money and his muscle to attract the girls who flocked to him. They threw themselves at him, the sluts. They didn’t care what he was like; just that he had money and power.

Kraemer was an athlete. He was good at everything! Name it and he was the best the school had – at least, for the sports that mattered. And Kraemer knew it. He parlayed his strength and ability into becoming a God among the lesser humans. He used his strength to impress the girls out of their pants. To him, sex was a reward, a badge of honor earned by virtue of his greatness and his wealth.

The world owed David Kraemer and David Kraemer was going to collect.

How Preston hated him.

But, Kraemer only had brute strength with little intelligence. As Quarterback, he stretched his mental ability to the limit. The coach always sent in the plays. The superman was lost if he could not use his physical prowess. Denied brute force, the scum was scrambling for an answer.

As with all bullies, he demeaned what he lacked. Intelligence had no place in his world of muscle and sweat. Nothing but sports mattered. In Kraemer’s world, anyone who didn’t score touchdowns, baskets or goals was useless.

He thumbed the switch and the small lamp illuminated the scene. He smiled at the vision provided by the circle of light. He could hardly wait for Kraemer to arrive. He would learn that brains always beat brawn.

He rubbed his right wrist. Even after all these years, the lump of bone and the scar remained. In the cold or damp, it ached – a constant reminder of the humiliation of that day.

*

David Kraemer was horny.

Jerking off that morning had done nothing to ease the ache. He wanted to get laid. There was a new girl in town who called herself Sunni. Sunni, with an ‘i’. He couldn’t stop thinking about her and that tanned body that just wouldn’t quit. She was here from California visiting her cousin. She was going home tomorrow so this was his last chance at some Cali putang. He had spent most of the day hitting on her and getting nothing. Then, the wimp had waddled by. The Gods were smiling.

“Hey, wimp. I thought I told you never to come around here again.” David turned to Sunni. “I keep telling this geek not to come around but he won’t stay away. I swear he likes to get hit.”

Preston couldn’t move, barely fighting down the panic. He had been stupid to come this way after the music lesson but his mind had been on his science project. He tried to just keep walking. Clutching his music case, he angled toward the pillars to get out.

Kraemer had no intention of letting him go. Too good to be true, he couldn’t let the opportunity pass. Sunni would love to watch this little wimp get his. Besides, the fat slob just plain deserved it. The short, fat, brainiac lived to be beaten. And David was born to do the beating. He moved up face to face with the little wimp while his three friends moved in behind, cutting off his escape.

“Gonna run home and cry to your mommy, geek?”

“Just leave me alone, David. I’m not bothering you.”

His voice came out with a slight quiver that David exaggerated. “
I’m not bothering you.
You fruit. No wonder you play the fucking
flute
. You like playing the flute, gay boy? Bet you like playing the skin flute too, don’t you?”

Sunni and the other girls giggled, encouraging David. His three friends stepped forward and formed a semi-circle behind Preston, eager for the action.

“You ARE bothering me, wimp. Your face bothers me. You bother anyone who has to look at you. I’ve warned you and warned you. Now, I guess I’ll just have to show you. Give me your flute and I’ll show you what you can do with it!”