Pretty Witches All in a Row (14 page)

“Wildflowers,” he murmured as Brady moved up beside him.

“Come again?”

“Annaliese, she said in her dream she saw the body on a field of wildflowers.  Take a look at that rug.”

Brady gave a low whistle.  “Wow, twilight zone time, huh?”

“What are you guys talking about?” Willis asked, eavesdropping without a trace of shame.

“We had a visit from Annaliese Cross this morning, she was sure there had been another murder, said she’d dreamt about it.  One of the things she saw in her dream was the body on a field of wildflowers, like that carpet.”  Brady jogged his head in the direction of the rug. 

Nick winced as Brady replied; knowing that would shift suspicion to Annaliese, but there was no helping it. 

“So wait, she came in and reported the murder?”

“No, not exactly.” 

Willis left to join Troyer, who stood talking to Nelson and Park, drawing him aside.  The man’s frown grew more and more pronounced until he looked up to catch Nick’s gaze.  “Gibson, what's this about the Cross woman knowing about another murder?”

A deep breath was taken.  “She came in early this morning, distraught over a dream she’d had.  She said she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone else had been murdered.  After she was only able to reach Rose Spencer, she came down to see me and tell me what she knew.”

“And what did she know?” Troyer prompted.

“In her dream, the victim was stabbed on a field of wildflowers.  No specifics as to who did the stabbing, or who the actual victim was.  She said in the dream it was herself getting stabbed.”

“Interesting.  She acts out, killing her victims but really trying to kill something within herself; but when it doesn’t go away she’s driven to kill again,” Troyer nodded, running with the idea.

Nick didn’t like where he was going.  “Oh come on, that’s armchair psychology at best.  You think Annaliese did it?”

“It makes more sense than her having psychic dreams.  You don’t believe that shit, do you?” Troyer snorted, Willis and Nelson exchanging similar smirks. 

“I believe she was upset about the dream she had, and I don’t believe she’s our guy.”

“What makes you think it’s a guy?” Nelson asked.

“I didn’t mean a guy literally.  But right at the moment my money’s on the Reverend Noah Cahill.  He had a run in with our first vic, and he’s been all kinds of vocal on the news about how he thinks they all had it coming.  I’m thinking religious nuts can be a little unstable… all of a sudden he thinks he’s the right hand of God, ridding the world of witches.  I think we should definitely focus on him.”

Troyer considered it for a moment and then nodded.  “Alright, Trav, Willis, you go pay Cross and the rest of the witches a visit and check their whereabouts for last night.  Then start going over everything from the last two murders.  I’ll go check out this Reverend Cahill bozo; I’ll need everything you have on him.”  He looked to Gibson and his team.

That was easier than he’d been expecting, and Nick blinked at the sudden shift in focus.  “I was sort of thinking I might tag along…”

A shake of the head was given, “I need you and your team to canvas the apartment building here, see if anyone saw anything last night.”

Nick stared back at him, was he serious?  It was a shit job, well below his pay band and they both knew it.  Maybe it was an appropriate task for Park or Brady, but door to door for the Sergeant in Charge?  Only he wasn’t in charge anymore, was he?  For a moment Nick considered calling him on it, but in the end he gave him a tight grin.  “Okay, we’re on it.  Anything else you’d like while we’re at it?”

“We’ll have a briefing at our precinct at eleven hundred hours, don’t be late.”

It was a dismissal, pure and simple.  “We’ll meet up with you then.  Park, where are we on getting the files to Troyer and his men?”

“The electronic files have been emailed over; the physical files should be at your office within the hour.” 

“Alright then, let’s move like we got a purpose.”  Troyer clapped his hands together. 

* * *

“This is ass,” Brady muttered, climbing up the third set of stairs.

“This isn’t what you joined the force for?  The chance to mingle with the public and free cardio in the bargain?”  Nick puffed beside him.  “Come on, it’s a sunny day outside, we’re not stuck in the office.  I personally have talked to two sweethearts, whose images I will take to my grave.  What more could you want?” 

Brady wasn’t having any of it.  “I want an elevator,” he complained, splitting off to take the apartment on the left.  That’s how it had gone down for the past hour.  After dispersing the crowd, they each took one apartment per floor, methodically working their way through the building from the ground up.  It was pretty obvious in the first five minutes if anyone had any real information to contribute, so the interviews didn’t take too long, but they were obligated to explore every avenue. 

“Meet you back here in ten.”  Gibson knocked on the door of the center apartment.  “Police, I want to ask you a few questions.”  Shuffling and scrambling could be heard from inside, voices low and urgent. 
Swell, it was gonna be one of those…
 

Fifteen minutes later, he regrouped with Park and Brady out on the third floor landing, waiting to compare notes.  “Please tell me you guys got more than I did,” he sighed, flipping his notepad closed.  What a huge waste of time.

“I got nada, but Park got something from the apartment next door.”

Park nodded, referring to her phone where she’d stored her notes.  “Mrs. Lawson in the apartment to the left of the vic’s is the only one who claimed to have heard anything last night before the screams.”

“She heard sounds of a struggle?” Nick perked up.

“No, she says it was nice and quiet for most of the night.  What woke her up was the vacuum running a little after midnight.  She said she remembers looking at her clock because it was after ten PM, and she was thinking about getting up to pound on the wall, but ended up falling back asleep again.”

“The vacuum cleaner?  So our killer is a neat freak?” Nick frowned and Brady shrugged his shoulders.

“Not too much of one, he sure left the bedroom in a mess.” 

“This Mrs. Lawson, she’s positive the vacuuming came from the victim’s apartment, not another neighbor?”

“That’s what she said,” Park nodded.  “That’s all I’ve got though.  No one saw anyone coming or going.  No one heard anything until the roommate came home and started freaking out.”

“Same here.” 

“Yeah, me too, a whole lot of nothing.  Well… I guess we’d better head to the next building and get started,” Nick sighed, already heading down the stairs.  “I should have worn better shoes for this,” he muttered darkly. 

* * *

It was a strange feeling, filing into a briefing room and taking a seat at one of the tables, like he was back in school.  Nelson stood at the front of the room, making notes on a transparency hooked up to an overhead projector.  Willis and Troyer came in a few minutes later, Willis carrying a file box full of documents.  “I had me an interesting interview with our Reverend Cahill,” Troyer announced, moving to the front of the room and setting down a file folder on the desk.  “That guy is nuttier than the farm he lives on.”  A shake of the head was given as he took a seat. 

“Oh?”  Nick sat forward in his chair, wishing for the umpteenth time he’d been allowed to go with.

“The guy freely admits to tangling with our first victim, remembered her to a T.  He said that he felt it was his civic and moral duty to speak out about sinners who forsake the Lord God Jesus Christ, and that he was glad that good ol’ JC reached out and struck them down.  Now, he didn’t admit to knowing either of the other two women, but says it’s entirely possible that he’s met them in the past and had similar run ins with them, because he ‘strikes out at evil whenever he sees it.’”

Nick let out a low whistle, “Talk about a total nutbar.” 

“So… Reverend Cahill has graduated to numero uno on the list of suspects.”  He nodded to Willis who made a notation on the overhead projector.  “Let’s get eyes on him, track his movements, establish his daily routine, see if anything turns up.  I’d also like to get more on his congregation.  Even if it’s not the preacher that’s doing the actual killing, with talk like that, someone in the church might be taking his teachings a little too literally and striking out on his own.” 

“We weren’t able to turn up much on them yet,” Brady volunteered.  “But we can go to his next service and see what we can come up with.”

“Good,” Troyer nodded, “what else we got?”

“I just got a call from the M.E.’s office,” Park spoke up.  “There wasn’t enough of our first victim’s body left to conclude if there was any other cause of death beyond the fire.”

“Shit, well that was a long shot anyway,” Troyer nodded, “What else?”

“We went over the inventory of the apartment with the roommate,” Nelson went next.  “The only thing she spotted as missing was one of the bathroom towels.”

“So maybe our killer took it with him; that could explain the lack of blood trail from the bedroom,” Nick interjected and the theories flew fast after that. 

“Probably, or he wanted a trophy, something with the victim’s blood on it.”

“Why pick a towel then?  Why not pick something more personal to the vic?” 

“Maybe he did?  The roommate said there was no way she could know if something small and personal was missing from her room, the towel was the only thing that stood out because it was missing from the bathroom.” 

“And no blood in the bathroom, which means the killer brought the towel with him before she was killed.  Park, be sure to ask Libby to check for traces of laudanum in her system,” Nick snapped his fingers.

“Laudanum?” Nelson frowned, “What’s that?”

“It’s a sedative they used about a hundred years ago,” Troyer replied.  “Did we find that in the previous victim?”

“Yep,” Brady nodded.  “That and some herbal tea appear to be the last thing she consumed.  I did some checking, and it appears that laudanum is still prescribed as tincture of opium under very rare circumstances, but mostly for severe nausea and diarrhea, with complications of dehydration.  We called every pharmacy in the county and none of them remember filling a prescription for it in the past ten years though.”

“I have the preliminary report from the Medical Examiner,” Park spoke up, scrolling through the prompts on her phone.  “We don’t have stomach contents yet but Libby confirmed that the same weapon was used on this victim as the last.  Approximately eight inches long, three quarters of an inch wide at the hilt.  Also, she was definitely killed on the carpet with the first blow and then moved to the bed after she was dead and the remaining stab wounds were inflicted post mortem.”

“Why would he move her…?”   Nick’s mind was churning; there were far too many questions they didn’t know the answer to. 

“Was the last body moved before the fire?” Troyer asked and Nick was quick to answer. 

“Inconclusive, they found traces of her blood in the ritual room, but nothing like our latest kill.  Libby said if the body was moved with the knife still in place, it might account for the lack of blood elsewhere in the house between the back room and the bedroom.  He was definitely trying to make it seem like a fire related death for that one.”  Nick lapsed into his own speculation.  Why move the bodies?  Why trash the place in one apartment but leave the other undisturbed? 

“Let’s move on.  Where did you guys get on your canvas of the building?”

Brady spoke up next.  “Nobody saw or heard anything suspicious at the time, but the next door neighbor says she heard vacuuming, just after midnight.” 

They all sat and digested that for a moment before Troyer barked out another question.  “Trav, Willis, how did your interviews go with the rest of the women?

“Bunch of space cadets,” Nelson replied, opening up his notepad.  “First we went down and talked to the old lady, Wentworth.  Seems harmless enough, she was home asleep last night, no one can confirm though, like last time.  Then we shot out to the Spencer place, nice digs.”

“I’ll say,” Willis snorted.  “She’s got some serious money, four car garage.  I got a peek in there; she’s got your top of the line luxury Mercedes, a big ass SUV, and this sweet bottle green jag convertible…”  He cleared his voice, realizing that he wasn’t particularly offering much in the way of helpful information. 

“She was out with ‘friends’, she provided a list of names, we haven’t had a chance to check in with them yet though.  Says she got back around midnight, and the security system log should show that.”

“That’s what she said for the other murders, and we were able to confirm the times the system was armed but it doesn’t tell us who did it, only that they had her personal code,” Brady piped up before Nelson continued. 

“Then we talked to the Cross woman at her shop.  Business is definitely booming, lots of traffic through there.  That might be something to check into, see how her business was doing before this, I can’t imagine she was bringing in the big bucks with the stuff she’s selling,” he added, a derisive note to his voice.

“She does alright, though most of her business is generated from her online store,” Park replied, giving a small smile of solidarity to Gibson.  Nick appreciated the gesture; the idea that Annaliese was in any way responsible for the murders in order to generate more business for her shop left a bad taste in his mouth. 

“We haven’t been able to reach Seraphine Ryan yet, she wasn’t at home.  We’ve left several messages for her and she was out of the office when we tried her there.” 

“Yeah, good luck with that one, she was already crying lawyer the last time I saw her,” Nick muttered. 

“That’s right; didn’t she lie about knowing the victims when you first questioned her?”  Troyer seized upon the tidbit he’d noticed in passing. 

“Yep, tried to pass it off like she was just a past employer, that’s it.  Not a single mention of the fact that they all strip down and play ritual hour on weekends,” Brady smirked. 

“What did she say when you called her on it?”