First, I saw the usual looks of disdain that accompanied any hostile takeover like this. The attitude of DCPD was typical. They hated when we took over an investigation in progress, especially when they knew we would probably need them later. McDonald glared at me as he and his homicide team left the area. I mouthed “Sorry.”
This crime was different, yet it was the same. I noticed right away that there were blood patterns splattered on the walls. It looked like the victim’s extremities were thrown against them.
“What do you think, Kelly?” I asked.
“Whoever did this was pissed, Phoenix.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” I said. “I’m wondering where Terry Callahan was last night. And could he have committed this crime to cover the others? This is the only one to have these kinds of blood stains, Kelly.”
“I know,” she said.
“Is it possible that we have two different killers? Two killers, killing the exact same way. Yet, not exactly the same? Raping, whipping, and mutilating? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“None at all,” Kelly said.
I walked around the room, taking in everything, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Other than the mutilated body of Taylor Hoffman, nothing seemed to be missing or out of place that I could tell. I walked over to the mirrored dresser. There was a wedding picture of Taylor and her husband, I presumed.
“Where’s the husband?” I called out to the officer guarding the door.
“We don’t know,” he answered.
“Kelly, let’s get Senator Hoffman on the phone. Maybe he knows where the husband is.”
“The senator just arrived,” the officer told us.
“Officer, radio downstairs and have him wait in the living room or something,” I said.
“I’ll find out what he knows, Phoenix,” Kelly said.
I nodded and continued looking around the room as I put on a pair of surgical gloves. How did he get in? There was no sign of forced entry. Did she let him in? I reasoned. If she did, it had to be someone she knew. Why else would she open the door in her pajamas?
There was a phone on the nightstand. Maybe that could tell me something. I could see whom she talked to last. Maybe the alarm did go off and he forced her to call the security company. I hit the redial button. The liquid crystal screen read local weather. That didn’t mean she didn’t call the security company. She could have used another phone in the house to call them. I hit the directory button on the phone and found the number to the security company. I dialed them on my cell.
“Alexandria Security. Mary Ann speaking. May I help you?”
“This is Special Agent in Charge, Phoenix Perry,” I said, trying to sound official. The person who answered the phone could very easily blow me off and not answer any of my questions. So, I wanted to sound important. I could easily subpoena the record, but I wanted an answer immediately. “I’m calling from the home of one of your clients, and I need to know if Taylor Hoffman, who lives at 1169 Cobblestone Drive, called in an inadvertent alarm last night?”
“Just a moment, Special Agent Perry.” I could hear the woman hitting keys in the background.
“No. No one from that address called in last night,” Mary Ann said. “As a matter of fact, there hasn’t been an inadvertent alarm at that residence since June, Ma’am.”
“Thank you,” I said and hung up. “Officer, call downstairs and find out if the alarm is off.”
Taylor Hoffman may not have turned the alarm system on. For all I knew, they may not have even used the system.
“It’s off, Agent Perry,” the officer said.
“Thanks,” I said and continued scouring the room for clues. I opened the drawer on the nightstand. A tablet and pencil were in there.
One of our people from the crime lab put on a pair of ultraviolet goggles and looked at the bed. “Semen,” he said excitedly and collected a sample.
I opened the other nightstand drawer and found an autographed copy of Bebe Moore Campbell’s Brothers and Sisters, I went back to the mirrored dresser and began opening drawers one at a time. Nothing unusual. Underwear. Folded clothing. I didn’t know what I was looking for, so I lifted up the clothing, which yielded nothing until I opened the bottom drawer on the right.
That drawer contained all sorts of sex toys ranging from a video from the Sinclair Institute that read 32 Ways to Love Your Lover to a Kegelcisor to assorted dildos, lubricants, edible panties, cock rings, and flavored condoms. Taylor was a freak, I thought. I didn’t mean to. It just came to mind without effort.
“The husband’s in Los Angeles working on a science fiction film, Phoenix,” Kelly said. “He had to be there today and had planned to leave earlier yesterday. But Taylor Hoffman had just gotten hired at a prestigious law firm here in Alexandria and they celebrated. That’s why the husband left so late last night.”
“Hence the semen on the bed,” I said.
“Huh?”
“Crime lab found semen on the sheets. I’m betting it’s the husband’s and not the killer’s. What time did the husband leave last night?”
“Twelve-thirty this morning.”
I called headquarters to confirm that the husband was actually on the flight. “This is Agent Perry. Check the flight manifests on all flights leaving Washington last night for Los Angeles. Tell me if you find Jack Hoffman on any of them.”
“Do you spell that with two F’s or one?” the tech asked.
“Two, I think.
“Yes,” the tech said. “Departed Dulles at twelve-thirty. Arrived LAX at two-thirty Pacific.”
“Thanks,” I said, “That clears the husband.”
“Nice crib,” Kelly said. “Rich folks got it made. Would you believe this house is a wedding present from Senator Hoffman, Phoenix? That’s right. A 2.2 million-dollar house. For a friggin’ wedding present. If I could only be so lucky. I might have to marry Sterling and live good for a change. He’s got bucks and makin’ more all the time.”
I shook my head and laughed. “You’re crazy, girl.”