Web of Justice (4 page)

A tiny dark-haired woman was crouched down beside the body, examining the victim’s throat with a gloved hand. It was Chief Medical Examiner Nancy Pietek. She turned her round, cheerful face toward Hank, her bright eyes shining, and offered a short smile as the detective crouched beside her. “Nice to see you again, Hank.”

Hank murmured a hello. “Victim was strangled, Nancy?”

“Almost certainly the cause of death is asphyxiation by strangulation,” Nancy replied, pointing to the leather strap around the victim’s neck.

The open mouth of the dead woman made the sight even more gruesome. She’d have been gasping for precious air up until her final moments of life.

Hank had seen a lot of horrifying sights in the past fifteen years, many of them still invading his dreams, and he knew this one would stay with him for a long time. He shook it off, forced himself to concentrate on his job, and turned to Nancy.

“Any idea on the time of death?” he asked.

“Three to four hours ago,” she said, moving the victim’s head from side to side. “Rigor mortis has just started to set in at the neck and jaw.” She gently raised one of the victim’s arms a couple of inches and let it fall. “Hasn’t reached the rest of the muscles yet.”

Hank looked at the victim’s left hand. She wore a wedding band with an engagement ring that held a tiny diamond. The jewelry wasn’t all that valuable, but if the motive had been robbery, the killer would certainly have taken the rings.

And the hasty haircut the woman had received didn’t point to robbery, either.

“Any signs of sexual abuse?” Hank asked.

“Not that I can see. Nothing obvious, anyway. I’ll give her a thorough examination back at the lab and let you know.”

A deep voice sounded from behind. “No ID on the victim, Hank. We’re hoping facial recognition or her fingerprints will give us something. That is, if there’s any record of her in the system.”

Hank stood and faced Jameson. “Nothing on the body?”

“Nope. No purse. There’s a small pocket in her skirt, but it was empty.”

“Who found her?” King asked.

Jameson consulted his clipboard. “A woman named Teresa Hanson. Came here on her break. An officer took her statement.” He waved an arm toward the street. “She a teller at Commerce Bank if you want to speak to her.” He jotted the name down on a clean page, ripped it loose, and held it out.

Hank took the paper, tucked it into an inner pocket of his jacket, and turned back to Nancy, who had stood. “Was the woman killed here?”

“Hard to tell, Hank. The beginnings of livor mortis on the front and side would indicate no. I’ll have a better idea after the autopsy, but it appears she was killed elsewhere and perhaps lay face down for some time, then deposited here.”

“What’s the deal with her hair?” King asked.

“That’s a good question,” Hank said. He told King about the unusual package delivered to the precinct that morning.

King frowned. “The killer’s making a statement of some kind. Or sending a message.”

“If the hair belongs to this victim, then yes,” Hank said, glancing at the body. “But first, we have to find out who this is.”

Hank scanned the ground around the body, then turned to Jameson. “Any signs the victim was dragged here?”

“Nothing. It appears she was carried.”

“How much do you think she weighs?” Hank asked Nancy.

“A hundred and thirty, maybe forty, pounds.”

“Not an easy task to carry that much weight from the street to here,” Hank said. “The killer would have to be fairly strong.”

“Why bother carrying her here at all?” King said, glancing around. “Why here in the park?”

“That’s another good question, King,” Hank said. “And we’re going to find answers to all of them.” He turned to Jameson. “Anything else you can tell me, Rod?”

“Nothing that sticks out. I’ll get a complete report to you ASAP, but if anything interesting pops up in the meantime, I’ll give you a call.”

“I’m especially interested to see if the hair we got in the mail matches up with our Jane Doe.”

“I’ll let you know,” Jameson said.

“Then I guess we’re done here,” Hank said, turning to King. “Let’s go catch us a killer.”

Chapter 6

Tuesday, 11:56 a.m.

AFTER THE INTERVIEW with Edgar Bragg, the Lincolns had stopped for a quick lunch before heading to Phil’s Burgers & Booze. Jake had wanted to grab a burger from Phil’s, but Annie had insisted otherwise, stating that an establishment with that name wouldn’t even be on a list of places she’d consider eating.

Jake had given in with a shrug, and they’d stopped at a small deli a block from their destination.

After lunch, Annie called Olivia Bragg’s best friend, Jasmine Hyde, while Jake steered the Firebird toward Phil’s. Following a short conversation, Annie hung up, dropped her cell phone into her handbag, and turned to Jake.

“Jasmine was rather upset, but she said she hasn’t seen Olivia in a couple of weeks.”

“Did she have any idea whether or not Olivia might’ve run off somewhere?” Jake asked.

“No. She said the same as Edgar, that it wasn’t like Olivia to disappear without a word. She has no idea what might’ve happened.”

Jake pulled into a small parking lot at the side of Phil’s and shut down the engine, and they stepped out. Annie glanced at the faded sign, the greasy windows, and the litter blowing about the property, and was glad she’d made the decision not to eat there.

Jake pulled open one of the double doors and Annie stepped inside. Old oil mixed with the odor of something stale permeated the close air inside the restaurant. A faint pungent smell of sizzling onions could be detected.

Three or four of the handful of tables were in use, patrons taking careful bites of sloppy burgers as they enjoyed their fast-food banquet. They were probably the usual crowd, the ones who’d grown so accustomed to the bad aroma they’d stopped noticing. According to Edgar, the place employed two or three full time waitresses in the evening when the booze flowed, proving to Annie that when sufficiently inebriated, smell and taste are of no importance.

A fifty-something stout man sporting a once-white apron stood behind the counter, eyeing them as they approached. A wide smile lit up his blubbery face.

“Good day, folks. What can I do for you?” the man asked with a faint Greek accent.

Annie stepped to the counter. “We’re looking for Phil.”

“I’m Phil,” the man said. He wiped his right hand on his apron and held it out. “Phil Giannopoulos. I own this place.”

Annie shook his hand and introduced herself, motioning toward Jake. “And this is my husband, Jake. We’re from Lincoln Investigations, and we’d like to ask you about Olivia Bragg.”

Phil turned and glanced at a clock on the wall by the door, a light frown on his brow. “She should’ve been here by now.” He shrugged. “Sometimes she’s a few minutes late.” His frown deepened. “What’re you investigating?”

Annie glanced around the room. No one seemed in urgent need of Phil’s services. “Can we sit down a moment?”

Phil pursed his lips, then motioned toward a nearby booth. Jake and Annie sat on one side of the table, while Phil wedged his rounded belly in on the other side, pushed up his sleeves, and dropped his hairy arms on the table.

“What’s this all about?” the big man asked.

Annie brushed aside some crumbs, pushed a ketchup bottle back into place, and laid her arms on the table, leaning forward slightly. “Olivia didn’t come home last night, and her husband is understandably concerned.”

“Didn’t go home?” Phil said, tilting his head to one side. “She left here at nine, same as always, and that’s the last I heard of her.” He frowned and sat back. “I told her husband that last night. You mean to tell me she still never made it home?”

Annie shook her head. “We fear she might’ve been abducted. Somewhere between here and her home, two blocks away.”

Phil leaned forward, his eyes widening. “Abducted?”

“We don’t know for sure,” Jake said. “There’s no evidence of a kidnapping, but Olivia’s missing.”

Deep concern showed in Phil’s eyes. “I’m happy to help you, but I have no idea what might’ve happened to her.”

“If you think back to last night before Olivia left,” Jake said, “did you by any chance notice anything or anyone unusual?”

Phil’s eyes narrowed and he looked up a moment. “Not that I can think of.”

“What about any customers you had, let’s say, between eight and nine? Were any of them alone?” Annie asked.

“Lots of people come here alone. Especially in the evening. I got a good price on draft, and they like to sit and fill up.”

“Do you know most of the usual customers?” Jake asked.

Phil shrugged. “Just about all of them.” He grinned. “Sometimes people come here to eat, too. People drive by and drop in.”

“Was there anyone here last night you didn’t recognize?”

“Always is. People come and go, you know. Sure, we have regulars, but there’re always new customers.”

A man approached the cash register, one hand digging in his back pocket for his wallet. He glanced toward the booth, and Phil excused himself. “Just let me take this guy’s money and I’ll be back,” he said, squeezing out of his seat.

Annie scanned the restaurant. There didn’t appear to be any cameras in the place.

The cash register dinged open, then slammed, and in a moment, Phil returned and wedged his way back into the booth.

“I don’t see any cameras here,” Annie said to Phil.

Phil pointed to the exit door. “Got one outside. Aimed at the front of the building, but there’re none inside the place.”

Jake turned and looked toward the door. “Does the camera see everyone who comes and goes?”

“Sure does.”

“And you record it?” Annie asked.

“Yup.”

Annie smiled. “Is it possible to get a copy of the recording? I’d like to see anything from eight o’clock till after nine.”

Phil sat back and folded his arms, observing them. Then he scratched his head, leaned forward, and spoke. “Guess it’d be okay.” He shrugged. “If it’ll help you track down Olivia, then why not?”

He eased back out of the booth. “Give me a minute or two. I’ll see if I can figure out how the thing works. Never had to do this before.” He glanced around the restaurant, then, satisfied he wasn’t needed, he stepped behind the counter and disappeared through an open doorway beside a smoking grill.

“I hope it’s not on VHS,” Jake said. “I don’t wanna have to dig that old player out again.”

“I hope it tells us something,” Annie said. “It’s about all we have to go on right now.”

“You don’t think Phil’s involved, do you?” Jake asked. “He seems like an okay type of guy.”

“I don’t think so,” Annie said, shrugging. “But everyone’s a suspect until we rule them out.”

Jake grinned. “You’re starting to sound like a cop. That’s what Hank always says.”

“Maybe that’s where I picked it up,” Annie said with a smile, motioning across the room. “Here comes Phil. Looks like he has something for us.”

The restaurateur stepped up to the table and slid a flash drive toward Annie. “Got it figured out. Don’t know how long the video is, but it covers the time period you’re looking for.”

Annie picked up the drive and slipped it into her handbag. “Thanks,” she said. “Do you want this back when we’re done with it?”

“If you’re in the neighborhood you can drop it in,” Phil said, waving a hand. “But it doesn’t matter that much. They left a whole bunch of them when they set up the system.”

Jake slid out of the booth, pulled out a business card, and handed it to Phil. “Give us a shout if you think of anything you think might be important.”

Phil took the card and tucked it into his apron pocket. “Can I get you folks anything before you go? I make a nice burger.”

Annie stood and smiled. “Thank you, but we ate not long ago. Maybe another time.”

Jake and Annie shook hands with Phil, said goodbye, and left the restaurant. Annie turned and glanced at the camera above the door and hoped the video would prove to be of some use.

“What now?” Jake asked as they got into the car.

“I guess we go home and wade our way through this video,” Annie said. She turned to face Jake. “Unless you have a better idea.”

Jake shrugged and started the car. “Nothing I can think of.”

Chapter 7

Tuesday, 12:18 p.m.

HANK HAD SENT Detective King to conduct an interview with the woman who’d discovered the body in the park. He didn’t expect the visit would reveal anything useful. He’d already gone over Teresa Hanson’s detailed statement, but nothing of immediate use had been gleaned from it.

Forensics had conducted a facial recognition search but hadn’t found a match to anyone in the computer records. A fingerprint analysis had also netted nothing. At least Hank knew the unknown woman had no criminal record.

Forensics was also doing a hair examination to ascertain if the lock of hair received in the mail was that of the victim. An expert would carry out a microscopic comparison, and Hank expected to hear it was a positive match.

The body of Jane Doe was now in the morgue. Nancy Pietek would be in the process of examining it in detail, but her complete report would take some time.

Hank’s first concern was to find out the identity of the victim.

He twirled in his chair, pulled in to his desk, and faced his computer monitor. He tapped a few keys and was presented with a short list of the missing persons reports from the last seventy-two hours.

At the top of the list of three was an elderly man who’d wandered off. Hank was glad to see an updated report stating the man had been safely found.

The second report was of a man as well, gone for two days and still missing.

The third missing person was a woman named Olivia Bragg. The report had been taken less than twenty-four hours ago, filed by her husband, the call received just after midnight that morning. Unless there was evidence harm had come to the missing person, it was too early for the police to get involved.