Maniacal: A Detective Jade Monroe Crime Thriller Book 1 (13 page)

My mind drifted back to Elise. The autopsy would be complete soon, and Perry could finally ID her. I was certain Doug had started it.

“Could you do me a favor, partner?”

“Sure, name it.”

“I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee if you go downstairs and check on Doug’s progress. I’d like to call Perry and tell him when he can come in. Ask Jason if he set up the time for the transport company to pick up Morris’s body too. I want to call Terrance and let him know.”

“Yep, on it. Get that coffee started.”

I poured water into the pot and lined the basket with a paper filter. I knew we’d go through an entire pot, so I made twelve cups, scooping six heaping tablespoons of Colombian Roast into the basket. I hit the start button and knocked on Lieutenant Clark’s door. He glanced up through the window and waved me in.

“Jade, what can I do for you?”

“We’re stuck, boss. None of the names from Morris’s list of associates cross-referenced with Elise’s names. Plus, we know Perry isn’t good for this crime.”

He ran his palms over his eyes and exhaled a groan. “Yeah, I know. I’ll admit I haven’t slept much this last week.” He rubbed the belly that his starched shirt was stretched across and leaned back in his chair.

I nodded. “I just don’t know where to go with this. Even with a profile on this killer, we still have nothing. He’s a ghost. The media can’t help us. We already know who our victims are. Plastering their photos across the TV screen isn’t going to do anything except agonize Perry even more. We can’t even put together a composite of the killer for the media. No eyewitnesses.”

“Have all of the people in Elise’s yoga class from Friday night been interviewed?”

“Yep. They all left before she did, and she never mentioned plans other than going home after the class.”

“So that’s a dead end too. And her car? Did the guys get anywhere with the seat being pushed back, any trace?”

“Nothing. The perp must be gloved at all times. We’re not doing our victims justice.” I smacked the doorframe with my open hand and walked out, irritated.

Jack entered the bull pen just as I got back to my desk.

“Doug has about an hour left with Elise. Jason said the transport company is on their way.”

“Good, I’ll call Terrance and give him a heads-up.”

Jack sat down and rapped his knuckles on the desk. “I’d tell Perry to come at noon to be on the safe side. Of course the autopsy is just for protocol, right? Elise was a healthy, fit woman, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, the only thing off might be the toxicology report if she was slipped a drug. Highly unlikely, though. We saw the time stamp on the video of her leaving right after class, and it didn’t sound like she intended to stop anywhere. Anyway, the tox report should be back in a few days. I know Doug is busy right now, but Clark wants the rest of us in the lunchroom to touch base on everything we’ve done so far. I’ll call Perry first and tell him to be here at noon.”

I picked up my desk phone and made two calls. The first was to tell Perry to come in at noon for Elise’s official ID and the other call was to Terrance. Morris’s body would arrive at Phillips Funeral Home in a few hours. Terrance said he would let me know what day the funeral would be scheduled for. Jack and I planned to attend.

We went through everything again with the lieutenant. This time our group included Kyle, Dan, Todd, and Bill. We had several officers from North Bend PD, John and Lucas from their tech department, and Detective Miller on speakerphone with us.

Over the course of an hour and with each person sharing their bit of information, we still came up blank. We agreed it would take a miracle and a lot of luck to catch this killer.

Perry was a mess, and it was difficult dealing with him when he came in to ID Elise, but it had to be done. He was an emotional wreck, and I could feel his pain. He asked if I would accompany him to the viewing window, and I agreed. I didn’t think he was strong enough to handle seeing her alone. He seemed as though he was ready to collapse any second. Perry squeezed my hand tightly when Jason opened the blinds and rolled the gurney to the window. He lowered the white sheet covering Elise’s face. Perry’s entire body shook as he sobbed and nodded. I motioned for Jason to close the blinds.

The visitor’s lounge was a peaceful shade of biscuit and peach colored blinds covered the windows facing south. Two couches and two side chairs lined the walls and a few magazines and a Bible were spread across the coffee table. Soft music played so quietly it was barely audible. I sat there with Perry, feeling awful for him, and stayed until he was composed enough to drive home. Just watching Perry made me wonder how Terrance was dealing with Morris’s death, so I called him back and talked for a bit, just person to person. Even though it didn’t seem as though Terrance and Morris were as close as they could have been, I knew the man was grieving nonetheless. I offered my condolences again and told him Jack and I would be at the funeral on Friday.

I busied myself with monotonous paperwork for the rest of the day. I didn’t have anything else to work on, and I felt hopeless.

“Jack, I’m heading out unless you need help with anything.”

“Nah—go ahead. I’m right behind you. Unless new leads come in, we’re at a standstill anyway. Let’s see what the lieutenant thinks about releasing Elise’s body soon. I’m sure Perry wants to give his wife a decent burial.”

I noticed the flashing light on my phone just as I was ready to drop it into my purse.

A text had come in hours earlier from Amber.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Sis. No flowers from me. Sorry I didn’t think of it. Remember the fortune cookie? Sounds like you’re getting some good karma.”

His load was beginning to lighten.

It’s time to get this party started again. As usual, I’ve gone unnoticed. I think it’s the perfect day for Melissa and me to get better acquainted.
Dime had checked out the weather forecast for the entire week. A slow-moving warm front was coming in from the southwest. It insured dry weather and plenty of sunshine going into next weekend. No tire tread marks or footprints would be found at the home on Oriole Lane.

He headed out in his Jeep and drove east on Decorah Road, a two-lane state highway that would take him away from North Bend. He could have set up the appointment with Melissa any time during the week, but he knew she had a five o’clock appointment, and he wanted to catch her off guard. He headed in the general direction of the home for sale on Oriole Lane and checked the time, even though the alarm was set on his phone.

A small bar with a worn-out facade came into view on the south side of the highway. Two cars sat in the gravel parking lot facing the front door of Eddy’s Tap. Dime assumed one of the cars belonged to the bartender.

What’s the harm? I still have a half hour before I need to call Melissa.

He clicked the right-turn blinker and slowed down. The Jeep’s oversized tires kicked up gravel from the unpaved parking lot as he pulled in and parked. Dime exited his vehicle and walked the ten steps to the front door. He reached back and pulled up the hood on his black sweatshirt and put on the dark green aviator glasses he kept in his pocket. The old saloon-style swinging doors squeaked when he pushed through them. The bar had a strange western and biker bar theme going on. Motorcycle forks and handlebars were bolted to old barn-beam support pillars as wall art, and the barstools were saddles on posts. The bartender wore a black leather vest and a cowboy hat. He waxed the ends of his mustache so the tips curled up and held their twisted, thin shape. The walls were lined with Harley posters of nearly naked women posed provocatively on motorcycles.

Dime grumbled as he took a seat, careful to avoid the saddle horn between his legs. He shrugged and cracked his neck from side to side. Having to get the bartender’s attention annoyed him since the place was nearly empty.

He called out, “I’ll have a Stella Artois.”

Mr. Mustache walked over. “A what? Never heard of that before. Is that some kind of fancy-ass beer?”

“Fine… how about a Guinness?”

The bartender stared at him.

“I’ll have a Bud Light.”

“That I can do, pal. Can or bottle?”

“Can, and pour it into a glass.”

Dime sat at the bar, mindlessly watching the evening news on TV. An old-timer sat alone near the door, plugging quarters into a video poker machine. Dime took a gulp of beer and continued staring at the screen. He still had time to kill. He chuckled at the thought, clever man that he was. The world news segment had just ended, and the local news had begun. A mention of the two recent murders in the North Bend area perked him up. The old-timer stopped playing video poker momentarily and turned to watch the news report. According to the anchorman, there were no suspects in custody, and the sheriff’s department had no leads. It was a mystery to everyone in this normally safe, family-oriented community, and people were fearful. Parents were advised to watch their children closely and to keep their doors locked even during the day. The anchorman reminded TV viewers that if anyone had information that could help the North Bend Sheriff’s Department or local police department apprehend this killer, they could call the number at the bottom of the screen and remain anonymous.

Dime laughed, muttered something, and then laughed again.

The bartender gave him a scowl. “Man, why is that so funny to you? Some sick SOB is out there killing people.”

Dime slid off the saddle stool, tossed a five on the bar, and walked out. The alarm on his watch sounded just as he climbed into his Jeep. He grinned and pulled out his burner phone to call Melissa.

It rang four times before she finally answered. “Hello, Realty World, Melissa Mately speaking. One moment, please.”

Melissa apparently had another caller she found more important, which made Dime mad. He was tired of women like her treating him with no respect. Dime heard the phone click back over to him several minutes later.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. This is Melissa again. How may I improve your day?”

His anger subsided momentarily. “Hello, Melissa, David Ingles here. Remember me from Sunday?”

“Of course I do, and I’m delighted you called.”

Me too.

“So have you decided to take a look at Oriole Lane after all?”

“I certainly have. How about right now?”

Silence filled her end of the phone line.

“Hello?”

“Sorry, I had to think for a second. Um… I just finished my last showing and was headed back to the office. I have to write up a listing description for a client that wants to sell her home. I hadn’t heard from you so I made other plans. Can we schedule it for tomorrow instead? I’d kind of like to get this listing done tonight.”

“You know, never mind. I have to go back to Philly tomorrow for a while. Maybe I’ll check out some other Realtors when I come back to North Bend. Thanks anyway.”

“No, wait. I guess I can turn around. I don’t want you to leave town unhappy with my professional services. I aim to please. I’ll meet you at the residence if you don’t mind doing it that way. How about six fifteen?” Melissa’s voice began to cut in and out. “Hello, Mr. Ingles? My battery is going. Did you hear me?”

“Yes… I said six fifteen is perfect. See you soon. I’m looking forward to it.”
I can’t believe some women are that naive dealing with strangers. First, Elise opens her window on a dark, deserted road, and now Melissa is going to meet me by herself at a remote home for sale. Anyone that stupid deserves to die. Hmm… and then there was Morris.

Dime pulled away from Eddy’s Tap. Gravel crunched under his tires until he hit the blacktop of the highway and headed east.

From the bar, the drive would take ten more minutes. He had a bit of an advantage being able to arrive before Melissa did. He’d take a few minutes to scope out the surroundings. From the aerial view on the listing, the driveway looked long and private with a heavy pine forest leading in. Nobody would see their vehicles from the road. With the house vacant, he’d have plenty of quality time alone with the foolish Realtor.

Dime hit his left blinker and turned off the highway onto Oriole Lane. His head swiveled left and right as he drove slowly. The secluded street was perfect for his needs. He passed only one house a half mile back, and who knew what lay ahead. He didn’t see any other homes nearby when he slowed at the driveway with the For Sale sign hammered into the ground next to the road. The sign displayed the Realty World logo, her contact info, and Melissa’s smiling face.

You won’t be smiling for long
. The voices in Dime’s head smirked as they encouraged him to turn in, and he did.

The paved driveway made enough of an
S
curve to obstruct the view of the house. Beds of multicolored flowers and shrubbery flanked the sides of the driveway, telling Dime that groundskeepers were retained to keep appearances up while the house stood vacant. He parked, got out, took off his sweatshirt, and left it in the Jeep. He looked back toward the driveway to make sure he couldn’t see the road.

“Nice digs,” he said as he took in the front of the house. Before him stood an enormous, sprawling Arts and Crafts–style two-story home. The covered porch filled the length of the house and was large and inviting. Two flagstone columns stood on either side of the matching flagstone steps leading up to the porch. Every window on the front of the home was accented with leaded glass, including the arched window over the thick oak double doors. The home’s clapboard siding was painted a soft celery green, and the accent trim around the windows was a pale yellow. Each door of the five-car garage had arched windows on the oak doors, matching the house’s front door. More flower beds lined the flagstone walkway that led from the driveway to the porch steps. A smile lit his face, and he whistled at the sight before him, then headed down the path to check the outbuildings. The one to the right could be the perfect place for Melissa to meet her maker. The latex gloves jammed in his pocket were ready when he needed them. He put them on temporarily to push open the double doors of what looked to be a horse barn. Six gated stalls stood on either side of a wide center walkway. Remnants of scattered straw still covered the floor. When he walked in, he saw harnesses and bridles that had been left behind hanging in the tack room. He reached out and touched the old, worn leather-and-steel accessories.
These will come in handy.