PJ WAS ON HOMICIDE overload. A schoolteacher, Loretta Blanchette, had been stabbed and mutilated in Florissant. It might be the work of the Metro Mangler, as the media was now calling the killer. As far as the public knew, the Metro Mangler had a thing for fingers. Stabbing in the heart, which the police had held back, connected Scar Man, Shower Woman, and Loretta.
There was a second murder in Florissant, the teacher’s neighbor. Bernard Dewey was middle-aged, divorced, and had a job putting up billboard displays. And he was shot, like Frank Simmons. The Florissant police were looking into the two homicides, and she hoped they would be able to come up with something definitive to rule out the Metro Mangler. She didn’t need any more corpses to worry about.
If they were all connected, then there were two classes of murders: one personal, bloody, and focused on mutilation; the other one, impersonal shootings. Two or more killers? One killer who did it dirty when it mattered to him and clean when it didn’t?
There was a low rumble of conversation in her office, punctuated often by Schultz’s strident voice. The three of them were discussing the lack of forensic evidence. The expanded drug testing battery for Arlan had turned up ketamine. None of the other victims were drugged. For murder weapons they had a total of three bullets from two different guns and one knife as evidence for five killings, plus whatever turned up from the barn, if anything. No fingerprints, no footprints, no fibers. No ripped buttons or earrings left at the scene. No discarded, bloody clothing. No skin under the victims’ fingernails. No bodily fluids other than some sperm remaining inside Shower Woman, already determined to be from her boyfriend.
Blood spatter analysis of the kitchen floor where Loretta Blanchette was murdered revealed blank spots where the killer stood as the mutilation was done. The blood fell on the killer’s feet instead of on the floor, so the blank areas should have been shoe-shaped and allowed the size of the killer’s feet to be determined. Instead, they were ovals corresponding to a men’s size 26 7E shoe. Possible, but more likely a deliberate attempt to disguise shoe size, such as plastic bags stuffed with padding and tied around the ankles.
There was one tantalizing piece of evidence from the location of Shower Woman’s chest wound. The stabbing was done with an overhand thrust, but it could be a short person using an extended arm or a taller person using a bent elbow. The killer’s projected height range was five foot two to six feet, too wide a range to be useful yet.
They were working with an extremely knowledgeable, or extremely lucky, perpetrator.
Just about every square inch of the corkboard on the wall across from PJ’s desk was covered with tacked-up timelines and photos. She struggled to make sense of it.
Start with the first link in the chain.
“Who actually thinks Arlan was killed by his brother-in-law, Frank Simmons, who was arrested for the crime?” PJ said.
No hands went up.
“That leaves us with May, June, and Fredericka, plus the possibility of a sociopathic stranger.”
“Glad you narrowed that down for us, Boss,” Anita said.
“May and June really seem to hate each other,” Dave said. “Although they try to keep everything peaches and cream on the surface, like visiting each other so often. I can’t see June killing her husband to spite May. My theory is that they killed each other’s husbands, to get back at each other for old hurts.”
“I could go for that except for one thing,” Schultz said. “The look-alike. Someone went to a lot of trouble to establish an alibi for June in Kansas City at the time of Arlan’s murder. The one who would benefit from that would be June.”
“Unless May did it to cast suspicion on June,” Anita said.
“I have a headache,” PJ said.
“Maybe Fredericka wanted to do away with Arlan so she could inherit the whole business, and set June up to take the blame by giving her an alibi that looks phony,” Dave said.
“You’re saying that June really was in Kansas City and Fredericka or May located a stranger who looks like June so that neighbors would believe she was at home. Then the look-alike was killed to make it look like June was cleaning up, making sure no one could talk. I don’t see how we can rule that out,” PJ said. “I can’t believe there was no trace in K.C. that could prove whether June was there or not.”
“Nothing’s turned up, but I haven’t given up, either. Haven’t given up trying to break Fredericka’s alibi, either. Shit, what a mess,” Anita said. “I hate this family crap.”
“How does the teacher fit in? That’s a finger-and-heart killing,” PJ said.
Dave shuffled some papers. “I got some preliminary stuff from the Florissant police. Loretta Blanchette was a teacher in Cape Girardeau all her working life. After retirement, she moved here to be near a brother who was in a nursing home. The brother died last year, natural causes. None of our suspects has a Cape Girardeau connection. May and June went to private school here in St. Louis, and Fredericka grew up in New Mexico. No links.”
“So the wacko stranger moves back into the suspect arena,” Schultz said. The rest of the group looked glum.
“We’re all tired,” PJ said. “Why don’t we knock off for tonight and see if the Florissant police come up with anything. Maybe we’ll get a break.”
Dave and Anita left immediately, as though they’d been waiting for a chance to get out of a discussion that raised more questions than it answered.
PJ looked at the clock on her desk. Mickey’s white gloves said that it was 12:30 a.m. “Leo, I’m going to hang around for another half hour. I have some research I want to do. I’ll take a cab when I’m done.”
“The hell you will. Check out your chest. Somebody’s already tried to hurt you. I’ll drive you home. Come to think of it, let me check out your chest.”
It felt good to smile. “Thanks. I’ll ride home with you, but I’ll take a rain check on that second offer.”
“Got anything to eat?”
PJ opened a desk drawer. “I’ve got some Little Debbie cakes.”
“You’re kidding. That would be too good to be true.”
She pulled out an unopened box of Zebra Cakes. Schultz snatched the whole thing before she had a chance to offer him an individual package.
“Woman, we are soul mates. See you in half an hour.”