Urban Renewal (Urban Elite Book 1) (10 page)

Jack

After Valerie assures me that she’ll be vigilant and mindful of her surroundings, I reluctantly walk her to her car. I rest my hand on the roof of her car as we say our goodbyes, then I tap it twice and give her a wink as she pulls away.

As I watch her car move into the flow of traffic, a rock settles deep in my gut at the thought of her out there working cases without a partner. Even worse than that is the thought of some arrogant asshole being partnered up with my woman. I want her safe -- but I don’t want her protected by anyone but me.

I welcome my cell phone ringing but scowl at the name that appears on the screen. Unless the FBI has started a Welcome Wagon service for early retirees, then shit’s about to get serious.

“Agent Turner, great to hear from you. I’ve been meaning to call you, what can I do for you?”

“Jack, sorry to interrupt your retirement,” he says, and I can hear the grin in his voice. I haven’t fooled him for a second. “I’d like your input on something if you can get away. I’m at a crime scene downtown, in the alley behind PJ’s strip joint on Market Street. Meet me here and I’ll bring you up to speed.”

“Is my partner already there?”

“You’re not talking like a man who just retired.” He chuckles as he continues, “Meet me down here and we’ll talk more.”

“I’m on my way.”

I head straight for my vehicle, pausing only long enough to call Cash and see if the cell phones I ordered are ready. “Cash, I got called into a crime scene and I’m not going to be here. Can one of your guys drop off those phones sometime today?”

“No problem. You need your investigators carrying those phones as soon as possible. And make sure they go over the tech specs that come with each one and try out the different functions until they’re comfortable using them. We went all out, just like you asked. These phones are some serious 007 shit.”

“I’m looking forward to getting my hands on mine.” It’s the truth, I’m salivating at the thought of trying it out.

“Well, there’s one in there for your woman too, you need to have her set up on it tonight. I hear you guys are dealing with some heavy duty shit over there.”

“You’re telling me. I need to go, but, hey man, I can’t thank you enough.” Even though I paid a pretty penny to have all of this security done, I’m grateful to have the most elite in the business doing it.

“Get to your crime scene, my man.”

“Alright, talk to you later.”

I quickly head over to my SUV and pull out, calling Max on my Bluetooth. She picks up on the first ring and I don’t waste time with pleasantries. “We’ve got a crime scene behind PJ’s, how soon can you be there?”

“Oh. Wow. Okay. Um, five minutes, tops, I’m already downtown.”

“Hey, Max, listen. You need to let me do most of the talking, the FBI is in on this one.”

“Is it our guy?”

“Don’t know yet, but it very well could be.”

“Alright, no worries, I’ll stay in the background. See you in a minute.”

It doesn’t take me five minutes before I’m pulling up to the crime scene. FBI agents are notorious for getting a chapped ass about cops barging in on their investigations, so I roll down the alley slowly and get a feel for what I’ll be dealing with.

The coroner, Herb Foster, is here. That’s good because we have a solid working relationship and a lot of history. Of course Agent Turner is here with his lover and partner, Rene Murphy. Even though they try to keep their relationship on the down low, it’s common knowledge that they’re an item. I take a deep breath and get out of the car. Agent Turner meets me halfway and we shake hands.

“This is a delicate situation, Jack, with you being retired and all. I think we need to position this as you consulting for me.”

“Got it. So it’s our leg guy? Why is the FBI being brought in when it isn’t meeting the serial killer criteria yet?”

“We’re looking at it as if it does. You’ll see why in a minute. One more thing, I think it’s great what you’re doing with your new business, recruiting new private investigators, and I know how useful a crime blog can be. I’ve been following
Black Rose’s
blog
for years. It’s just delicate—you understand.”

“Look, I totally get it. I’ll walk the line.”

“Good, because I need you on this one. Keep an eye on your team, is all I ask. Rookies can be overzealous—youth has a way of interfering with common sense and I won’t have it fucking up my investigation. When you’re up to full staff, surrounded by trainees that are still wet behind the ears, you’ll have your hands full. I don’t envy you.”

“Speaking of my team, let me introduce you to my crime blogger.”

“I look forward to meeting her sometime soon but I need to get back over there. I’ll meet you two over by the body, or rather, the limb.” With that he walks away, his mind focused solely on the demands of today’s crime scene.

“Hey, boss, I brought you some coffee.”

“Thanks, Max. Hey, I’ve had a chance to confer with my FBI contact and here’s how this is going to work. I’m consulting, and you’re going to be quiet,” I pointedly tell her. She needs to know where we stand in all this. The FBI is territorial and pissing them off will get me nowhere. We need to take what Agent Turner said seriously.

I’m being given unprecedented access to be consulting on this case. They’re usually a tight knit group who are adamant about keeping outsiders – even if they used to be insiders -- out of the loop. Whether I like it or not, I’m an outsider now, even if my retirement is only a couple of days old. It’s going to take a while to re-establish the professional ties I’ve always taken for granted. Having Agent Turner on my side is a step in the right direction.

“Scout’s honor, boss.”

Most reporters would do just about anything to be in the loop on a case like this and I’m certain she doesn’t want to do anything to screw up the good thing she’s got going. Getting a reputation for not being a team player this early in her career would only hurt her. Even though she’s young, she’s got enough sense to know that.

She follows behind me to the crime scene. I take in my surroundings: the standard yellow crime scene tape, a crime scene investigator kneeling down to examine the limb. Once again a riddle is scrawled in permanent black marker, but as I read along my stomach churns. This time the son of a bitch has made it personal.

I mumble under my breath to Agent Turner, “Well, fuck me, would you look at that.” We exchange a look and both glance over at Max, who is staring down at the arm with wide eyes. I turn to speak to Turner and notice that he continues to stare at Max with narrowed eyes, and I can practically see the wheels turning in that guy’s mind. “Say, how did you know about Max’s blog before I had a chance to tell you myself?”

“Seriously, Jack?” He bypasses the question and I know that is as much of an answer as I’m gonna get from this guy. “The issue at hand is that the leg belonged to a Caucasian woman but the owner of this arm was African-American.”

Suddenly the conversation with Lady Luck the other night jumps to the forefront of my mind. “Dammit. You’re certain?” I ask.

“At a glance, it seems pretty obvious to me, but, no, we won’t know for sure until the forensics team does the necessary tests. Consider that a preliminary finding; it’s too soon to know for sure.”

“The other night, I had a conversation with one of the working girls on this side of town. She hadn’t heard from her friend, a black girl named Chineka. They normally check in with each other when they finish with a john but she hadn’t heard from her since the night before. She said it was highly unusual. She kind of brushed it off at first, thinking that maybe the girl had been into it with her pimp and was just laying low. But my gut’s telling me the girl’s not coming back and that we may be looking at all that’s left of her.”

“She’s probably in the system. I’ll let you know what we turn up when we run the prints.”

I focus my attention on the scrawled message that is clearly directed at Max.

Your first limb was a leg and now you have an arm, you’re only beginning to experience my charm.

This is not a game of Hide and Seek, neither is it a game for those who are weak.

The question is, did I use a knife, saw, or axe? This will give you plenty to write about, my little Max.

“Looks like our boy has already developed a fixation on your newest recruit, Jack.”

I look over at Max, who doesn’t appear to be overly affected by the riddle, but I know better. I’ll go over it with her later when there aren’t so many prying eyes around.

This time when Agent Turner speaks, his voice is grim and he directs his words at my trainee. “We’re going to use that to our advantage, and you’re going to help.”

I take a deep breath and hope she’s ready for what’s coming. “Welcome to the big time, Max.”

His Offering

She hasn’t contacted me…yet. So I think it only fitting that I go see her. Just to get a closer look. I yearn to know more about who she really is so I take up a discreet position at the crime scene. You can learn a lot about a person when you watch them in their element. It will also give me some insight into her boss and the other authorities working this case.

It isn’t like I’ll draw anyone’s attention with the way I look—jeans and a hoodie, always jeans and a hoodie. I’m the perfect chameleon, just blending in to my environment. Of course, I’m not important enough to draw anyone’s attention. As far as the high and mighty are concerned, I’m just another homeless person to be ignored, aimlessly wandering the streets of downtown Louisville.

Finding out who she was working for wasn’t hard at all, hell, it was right there in her blog title. All I had to do was google
Urban Elite
. After that I had not only her name, but her address. Seems she lives in a compound of private investigators in training, run by a retired cop—how quaint. A crime fighting commune of sorts, bent on cleaning up the streets of Louisville Kentucky, isn’t that sweet?

We’ll see how sweet it is when they’re knee deep in blood, guts, and body parts. It won’t take long for the novelty to wear off as they realize how powerless they are against me. I’ll make certain of that.

I close my eyes and revel in the rush of satisfaction that flows through me, so delicious in its heat. All these important people are gathered here at this crime scene because of little ol’ me. My Max is pretty in a tomboy kind of way. She stands out in jeans and a sweatshirt with her hair pulled back in a ponytail as she hands her boss a cup of coffee. He’s talking to another man in a suit who has clearly taken charge of things.

I grab my cell phone and zoom in to get a few pictures. I work my way around in a leisurely circle so as not to draw attention to myself. When I’m finished piecing the pictures together later, I’ll have a panoramic view. I need to work quickly though. The last thing I need is for one of these guys to see me taking pictures. The dumpster across the street works nicely as cover.

When I’m finished, I stroke the small box in my pocket and smile when I think of the note I’ve attached by a ribbon. One last look around and I discreetly step across the alley to leave a gift for my new friend.