Humpty Dumpty: The killer wants us to put him back together again (Book 1 of the Nursery Rhyme Murders Series) (12 page)

“Let’s dig in.” Had pulled the lids off the trays and inhaled the aroma of the food. They were breaking bread together. There was no way Joshua could resist the combination of good food, good company and a little bit of alcohol.

It was going to be a great night.

* * *

Sariah was up, showered and ready to go by 7:30. She headed over to the boys’ room, hoping against hope that things had gone well last night. From what she had observed of these two so far, she was putting the odds of that pretty low.

As she approached the door, she saw the remains of their evening meal outside the door on a cart. Some fat from a steak sat hardening on the top of a stack of plates, next to an empty beer bottle and five martini glasses. She frowned, then did a double-take. One of the martini glasses wasn’t empty. There were a few drops left at the bottom of the glass.

That couldn’t be right. She leaned down and dipped a finger in the fluid that remained at the bottom, lifting the finger up to catch the scent of the liquid. It was what smelled like the remains of a vodka martini. Dirty.

What the hell had taken place last night that had kept an alcoholic from licking the glass to get the last few precious molecules of the good stuff? From Sariah’s experience, that
never
happened.

Scenario after horrific scenario flickered through her mind as she steeled herself to knock on the door. After only a moment or two, Had answered, fully dressed in a shirt and tie with a huge grin stretching from one side of his face to the other.

“Good morning, Coop!”

“Had,” she replied, nodding. Trying to peer around him, she asked, “Where’s Joshua? Is he up?”

“Oh, he’s not here.” Had looked around, almost as if he didn’t trust his own statement. “He was up way before me, I think. Doesn’t sleep much, does he? Must’ve gone down for breakfast or something.”

“Yeah, he’s a regular night-owl-slash-early-bird, our Joshua is.” Sariah pointed into the interior of the room. “Mind if I come in?”

“Sure. Hold on a sec.” He let the door close, and Sariah heard the sounds of him scurrying around the room before he returned. This time, he swung the door wide. “Just needed to straighten up a bit.”

There were no signs of a fight in the room, and Had appeared to be fine. She swiveled her head around the space as she sat down on the just-made bed. All indicators were that nothing bad had occurred, but Sariah had to ask.

“Did… Were you… How did things go last night?”

Had grinned. “Great! We had some awesome room service, watched TV and talked!” He seemed proud of himself. If what he was saying was accurate, she’d be proud of herself, too.

“You
talked
?”

“Yeah. It was great.”

“And were those martinis yours?” Sariah asked, pointing her thumb toward the entrance where the room service cart was.

“Oh, no,” Had shook his head, appearing mortified at the thought. “I only had a beer.”

“The martinis were Joshua’s, then?”

“Yeah.”

“All five?”

He nodded. “Man, can he put it away. Between that and the minibar, he must’ve had six or seven.” Had paused to think for a moment. “Maybe eight.”

“Wow.” That was a lot of alcohol. Then she had a thought that maybe could explain the leftover drops. “So you cut him off?”

“No. He said you guys had an arrangement or something.” He shrugged. “Figured I’d check it through with you this morning. I would’ve done something if he’d gotten out of hand, but he hardly seemed drunk at all.”

“And you guys just talked?”

“Yeah.” Had paused for a moment, looking like he was thinking. “Well, I guess I did most of the talking, come to think of it. He mostly just listened.”

“But he actually listened to you? That’s something.”

“Well, that and glared,” Had amended. “But only once or twice. And there was no punching.”

“Sounds like a great time.”

“Hey, if he thinks he’s going to get to me with just looks, it’s only because he’s never met my mama. She could strip the paint off furniture with the glares she gives.”

“That’s quite an image. Well,” Sariah slapped her hands against her thighs and stood up. “Ready to head down?”

“Sure thing. You eating breakfast?” Had patted his belly. “I’m still full from last night.”

“No. I’ve talked to the captain over at the local precinct. We’ll head over there to see what the M.E. has found, and then on to the site.” As she turned around, her leg brushed up against the bed. She felt the lump of the monitor there at her ankle. “Oh, hey, hold on a sec.” Sariah reached down and took the band off, rubbing at where the monitor had chafed her skin.

“What’s that?” Had asked, surprised. “You on house arrest?”

“It’s a blood-alcohol monitor.” She looked up to see the look on Had’s face. “It was supposed to be for Joshua, but…” Sariah grimaced and switched the monitor to her other leg. “You can take it off every 48 hours, so that it doesn’t leave sores.”

“And you’re wearing it because…?”

“Have you
seen
Joshua? Do you really think he could function without it?”

Had seemed to think that over for a bit. “Good call.” He then changed gears so fast that Sariah almost got whiplash. “Hey, did you know that Porgy and Bess from that Gershwin musical are buried out on James Island? Cool, right?”

Seeing as how she had no response to that at all, Sariah just nodded. As they left the room, she glanced once more at the alcohol at the bottom of the glass. There had to be an explanation. Wet glasses and alcoholics just didn’t go together. Maybe he’d just passed out? That had to be it.

It was the only conclusion that made sense.

* * *

Joshua’s head throbbed in time with the Indian techno music that blared out of the speakers of the cab. Kashif, Bilal’s cousin, managed to take his relative’s annoying enthusiasm and raise it to a whole new level. The driver smacked his gum in time to the music, the car dancing with an enthusiasm that left Joshua feeling as if the energy had been sucked out of the taxicab by force.

At least his command of the English language was superior to his older cousin’s back in D.C. Although he did seem to have learned it by watching old Tyler Perry films.

“Yo, dawgs, y’all headed out to hang with the popo? That’s wack, bitches.”

Glancing at Agent Cooper, Joshua watched as she gave the driver an insincere smile and then heaved a big sigh. The cab ride was only supposed to be twenty minutes long. It felt like an eternity.

Kashif dropped them off in front of the police station on Lockwood Drive, assuring them that he would be back to pick them up the second they called him. Joshua was tempted to find the business card Bilal had given Had and rip it into tiny shreds.

The mix of coffee and Irish whiskey that Joshua had consumed this morning with his breakfast were battling it out with the bacon, eggs and toast he’d also managed to put away. He’d eaten more food in the last day than he’d had in the past seven days combined, and his body had no idea what to do with it.

The concrete staircase leading up to the Charleston Police Department stretched in front of him, the air shimmering in the heat reflected off of the stone surface. He was already sweating, had been since he’d stepped out of the shower this morning at 4:30. He’d put on some clothes and waited out in the lobby until the restaurant had opened at five. He’d been finished for more than two hours when Had and Coop finally got there.

This all felt too familiar. Working for the BAU, Joshua had made his way around the nation, stopping off at one law enforcement building after another. He’d trekked across the country, tracking down serial killers, assisting in cases that had the local authorities stymied.

And here he was, doing it again.

He had to admit, having a bed to sleep in and food to eat was nice. Having a conversation with someone who wasn’t coming down from on high to talk to the homeless guy was also pleasant.

It all tasted like guilt to Joshua.

There was no way he should be enjoying himself. It was not supposed to be part of this equation. He couldn’t go back, that was clear from what had happened back in the alley with the girl.

But what the hell was he doing here?

The act of climbing the stairs left him winded. Agent Cooper and Officer Hadderly seemed to be more than fine, but even they had a sheen of sweat on their brows. Man it was hot. This heat made summer in Manhattan feel like a trip to the spa.

Had opened one of the double doors that led to the interior, holding it for Coop and Joshua. As he passed by the young cop, Had slapped him on the shoulder with a certain amount of familiarity. Joshua would have to do something about that. Getting too close to Joshua was like swimming in an oil slick. You were going to come away dirty.

No one deserved that, least of all Had.

The cool air from inside swept around Joshua as he entered the building, giving him a momentary chill as his body adjusted to the change in temperature. Maybe if he was lucky, Joshua’d end up catching a cold or something. That would make sure he stayed miserable while he was working this case.

“Where’s the morgue?” Agent Cooper asked the lady at the front desk. She was large, with a hairdo that made her look that much larger. Her face was slathered in makeup, her lips a bright fire engine red.

“Downstairs and to the right,” the woman answered, her voice colored by a pleasant southern drawl.

“Thanks,” Coop responded, catching Had by the shoulder as he started toward the woman. Joshua could only guess that he had been about to start a conversation with her. When it came to interpersonal intercourse, the guy was insatiable. Joshua thought back to the previous evening. How much had he told the young cop? Couldn’t have been much. It was all a bit of a blur.

The morgue was even colder, and Joshua was beginning to wish he’d dressed more warmly. Insane, of course, in South Carolina, but if he had any say in it, they weren’t going to be staying long down here.

“Ah, the group from Quantico,” a florid, grey-haired man in a white lab coat called out from the opposite side of the room. The team moved into the open space occupied by carts of bodies covered in sheets.

“Dr. LeCheminant. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us.” Agent Cooper said, holding out her hand to shake his. He held up his gloved hands as explanation for why he didn’t return the gesture.

“Well, darlin’. That’s my job, now isn’t it?” Somehow, the casual way he addressed Coop was somehow inoffensive. There was an ease in the way he spoke and held himself that indicated that anyone and everyone would get the same treatment, male or female, Black or White. This was one of the genteel folk from this part of the country. The M.E. might be sexist. He might be racist. But he wasn’t going to get all up in arms about either one.

“What were you able to find?” Coop prompted, following the man over to a table where a disembodied hand rested.

“Nothing much, I’m afraid. The DNA matched the results of the samples your colleagues over at the BAU sent me.” The M.E. moved over to the far side of the table to allow room for the three to congregate.

“Was it frozen, like the others?” Had asked, his expression more serious than Joshua had seen it so far.

“Yessir, it was indeed,” Dr. LeCheminant assented. “But this one was in a much more deteriorated state. Been there in the sandbox area of the park at least a month without being disturbed, I’d guess.”

The hand did look to be much more decomposed than the other body parts Agent Cooper had shown him. Rigor appeared to have set in with the hand in a strange position, the index finger extended, with the other fingers still closed for the most part. It was almost as if the victim had been gripping something.

“Anything else?” Coop prompted.

“Nothing else of note. No other particulates. No defensive wounds. Just a hand that looks like it was taken off using a hacksaw.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Doctor. We’ll go up and speak to the captain before we head out to the crime scene. We may swing back by here afterward.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ anywhere, darlin’,” drawled the examiner. As the trio began to file out, the doctor called after them, “Oh, and you’re gonna want to watch out for the captain. He doesn’t take too kindly to your kind.”

Agent Cooper whipped around. “You mean Black people?”

The M.E. chuckled, the movement shaking his large frame. “Well, I
meant
women, but sure, darlin’. That works too, I suppose.”

Joshua wanted to rub his hands together in anticipation. There was a showdown about to happen right in front of him. He couldn’t wait to see what was going to happen next.

CHAPTER 8

When Had first saw Captain Blake, it was like the man had stepped right out of the
Dukes of Hazzard
. He was short, squat and fat. It was Boss Hogg incarnate, and Had couldn’t help but look around for Sheriff Roscoe P. Coltrane.

As the man swaggered over to the group, it appeared he was avoiding direct eye contact with Agent Cooper. Awkward, seeing as how she was the leader of the band.

And Coop hadn’t missed it, either. She moved to plant herself right in front of the captain, extending her hand to shake his. “Captain Blake, correct? We spoke on the phone earlier.”

He continued to avoid her for a moment, until it became clear that there was no graceful way out of the situation. The handshake he offered her was as short as it could be without inciting a riot.

“Agent Cooper.” The captain’s smile was more of a grimace made by an animal, all tension and bared teeth. “Didn’t you get the directions I sent you by email? They should’ve been simple enough to follow.”

“Oh, I got the email, Captain. I just wanted to stop by to introduce myself and perhaps talk to some of the officers who were first on the scene.”

“Well, listen,” the heavyset man said with a touch of condescension. “I’d have to go look up the records to see who all was there. I think you can understand that I’ve got better things to do than to track them all down.”

Joshua stepped in at that point, his tone dry as the Sahara. “Better things than tracking down a serial killer? Charleston must be a hell hole.”