I waited quietly as Lutz spoke on his phone.
Seconds later, he hung up and relayed the message that he’d just received. With what sounded like a sigh of relief, he began. “Okay, all of the shelter’s residents have been moved to other facilities for now. They can return to A New Life as soon as somebody else comes in to act as a temporary administrator. They also need two more guards. It will probably be sometime next week before they can resume normal activities.” He pointed at the house. “Let’s wrap up here. There’s no need to search the house right now. I doubt if Ken had anything inside that Marie needed, or wanted, to help in her escape. Our focus has to be entirely on capturing those two women.” Lutz turned to me. “What’s going on with the deceased woman?”
“We know her name and address, and that black Mustang does belong to her, but we haven’t contacted anyone yet. I doubt if she has a connection to Marie other than the chance that she could have been the target instead of Ken.”
Lutz raised his brows. “Go on. Let me hear that theory.”
Frank explained what we had discussed earlier. “By what was written on the notes, especially the one found in Trey Botty’s pocket, the messages were clear. Marie considered all the people she killed as sinners. Ken didn’t really fit that narrative, but Fay did. We think Ken was used as a pawn to lure Fay to his house so Marie could kill her. She ether killed Ken, too, because she didn’t have a choice or because she found out that he gave us information from the visitor log, even though it was doctored. That tells us Ken, in whatever fashion, was aware of something fishy, yet he still felt the need to remove the names of Tammy’s visitors.”
“Speaking of that, has anyone followed up on who those two people were?”
Henry took his turn. “I called the phone numbers I found after doing an online search for the names. I left generic messages and gave a number to reach me at, but as of yet, I haven’t gotten any return calls.”
“Okay, stay on it.”
“Copy that, Boss.”
“Shawn, find a relative of Fay’s and let them know what happened.”
Shawn stepped away. “On it.”
Lutz continued. “Where’s her phone and purse?”
I cut in. “We didn’t find them. Either she didn’t bring them inside the house, or Marie took those items along with her.”
“Has the car been gone through?”
“No, but come to think of it, there should be keys to it somewhere,” Henry said.
I shook my head. “We haven’t found them.”
Lutz looked at Frank. “You helped Mark load the bodies. Did he check their pockets?”
“Fay didn’t have pockets, and Ken’s wallet, but nothing else, was found in his left back pocket.”
“Then break a window and go through the car for a purse.”
Shawn headed that way.
I saw that the coroner’s van was still parked in front of Fay’s car. “Where’s Mark?”
Frank tipped his chin toward the house. “He’s finishing up his paperwork before he leaves.”
“I need to talk to him.” I took to the sidewalk and stepped over the door to enter the house. “Mark?”
“Yep, at the kitchen table, Jesse. What do you need?”
“I know this is a strange request, but believe me when I say I’ve seen it before.”
He turned to me with curiosity written across his face. “Yeah? Seen what?”
“I know the bodies are in full rigor, but is there any way to open Fay’s mouth?”
He grimaced. “Are you serious?”
“As serious as a heart attack.”
“That sounds like something Don might have done in the past, but I’ll do it if you really need me to.”
“I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”
Mark pushed back his chair and stood then put the paperwork in his case. “I’m done here and ready to go back to the precinct, anyway. Want to join me at the van?”
“Absolutely.” I walked out with Mark, and the rest of our group, who were standing outside, fell in line behind us.
“What’s going on?” Lutz asked.
“We’re checking out a hunch.”
“Okay.” He sped up his pace.
Mark opened the back doors of the van, slid out the gurney, and unzipped the bag that contained Fay’s body. Wearing a fresh pair of gloves, he pulled several tools out of his bag and pried open Fay’s mouth. “What the hell?”
I looked over his shoulder and saw exactly what I was hoping to see. “Pull that out.”
Mark reached in with tweezers and removed a piece of paper from Fay’s mouth.
With my gloved hands, I pinched the paper between my fingers, took it from the tweezers, and unfolded it. I looked at Lutz. “Another note on the same kind of paper and in block letters.”
“What’s written on it?”
After clearing my throat, I read it aloud. “My mission is complete. They’ve each paid the price for their crimes, just like Dwayne did now and he did years ago.”
Lutz squeezed his temples. “Who the hell is he?”
I shook my head in hopes that it would clear my mind. “He. What does he mean?” I thought back to the research we’d done on Marie earlier and remembered mention of a husband long ago. “I think we need to go back to the precinct and, as a group, dig even deeper for information on Marie Booth. She had a husband named Tom years ago. Where did he disappear to, what happened between them, and is he the person Marie is talking about? Were the murders about long-overdue revenge against him?”
Lutz swirled his index finger above his head. “Get the officers to prop up that door and tape up the house. We’re going back to the precinct, and we’ll gather in the bullpen in a half hour. Dig into every part of Marie Booth’s life and learn what we can from her childhood until now.”
Back at the station and in the bullpen, we divided up the tasks. We pulled up Marie’s bills, her past tax returns, and her prior jobs.
Lutz took a seat on the edge of my desk. “Somebody find out how long she’s owned that house. I want to know where she lived prior to that too. There have to be people who know her, what her habits are, and where she likes to go.”
I volunteered to call the county clerk. Their department would have the property tax bill on her residence and how long she’d been paying it. After connecting with the clerk, I was told that Marie had owned the home since 1980 but not always under the name Booth. My curiosity was piqued. I grabbed a pen and my notepad and wrote as the clerk told me what she had on record for the property tax bill.
“It looks like the property originally belonged to a Marie Quinlan, so I’m assuming that’s her. Then from 1985 until 1989, the bill was paid by a Tom P. Booth.”
“Likely her husband. And then it went back to Marie’s name?”
“Yes, Detective McCord, it did.”
“Can you email me those records?”
“Certainly.”
“Do you have property records showing up anywhere in the city for Tom Booth?”
“Give me just a second to check.”
Soft music played in my ear for about thirty seconds.
“Okay, I’m back. I went ahead and checked statewide for Tom P. Booth, and nothing came up.”
“Uh-huh. That’s too bad. Maybe there’s a nationwide database I can check.”
“I can widen the search by using the drop-down menu.”
“Really? That would sure save our department a lot of time.”
“No problem. One second.”
I heard her tapping computer keys, then she came back to the phone.
“Sorry, but there aren’t any results.”
I’m sure she heard the disappointment in my voice. “Okay, thanks for trying, and I’ll be watching for that email.” I hung up and wondered where Tom Booth went.
I suppose he could have decided to rent instead of buying a house after they parted ways. It doesn’t mean something nefarious happened, or does it?
I recited the note again in my mind then called out to Lutz. “How long does the PD keep records on nonviolent offenders?”
“Depends on what it is. Why?”
I rubbed my head. “I don’t know. Marie and her husband parted ways in the eighties, but there’s no record of him owning a home or paying property tax after that.”
“Not unusual. Why would you think a police report would exist?”
“Just thinking about the wording of that note. There’s a good chance that the he she’s referring to is Tom Booth.”
“Unless Marie or somebody else reported him missing, there wouldn’t be a report at all, and the amount of time that’s passed? It’s doubtful any paperwork exists. You thinking foul play?”
I shrugged. “I have no proof of anything—just a cop with a gut feeling.”
“Right now, we have to track them down. We’ll address our gut feelings later.”
I had to agree. Finding those two fugitives needed to be our priority. I checked the time—it had been more than an hour since I’d called the animal shelter. I glanced around the bullpen, and everyone was busy working the case.
“Boss?”
“Yep.”
“I know what you just said about gut feelings, and I agree, but I think what I’m about to suggest holds merit.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“I want to drop an anchor on the animal shelter. Tammy loves Coby, and he may be the only thing left she actually cares about.”
“If that’s the case, then she’s likely already picked him up.”
I held up my hand. “No, she hasn’t. I called the animal shelter and asked. Coby is still there.”
Lutz buried his hands in his pockets and paced between my desk and Frank’s. “How long ago did you talk to the people at the shelter?”
“Going on an hour and a half ago, but I told the receptionist to call me immediately if Tammy came in.”
“Hmm… okay, get out of here. Take one of the cars from the impound lot but make sure it looks reliable and has plenty of gas. If Tammy shows, call me right away, and we’ll get Patrol to assist.”
“On it.” I turned to Frank. “Let’s go, Mills.”
We chose what looked to be an okay car from the impound lot and got the keys from the officer at the counter.
“You can drive,” Frank said as I handed him the keys.
“Me? Why?”
He shrugged. “Not feeling the love with that hunk of junk.”
I looked at the Malibu. “It’s the best car in Impound.”
“Yeah, but you can handle it today. Any time you want me to drive your truck, I’m game.”
I chuckled, opened the driver’s-side door, and climbed in. The car stank like stale cigarettes.
Frank gagged. “Glad I quit that nasty habit.”
“That makes two of us, partner.”