Fifty-Two
Jack and I just hit the hallway, and the landlord started gesturing wildly in the direction of Cabot’s apartment.
“What’s going on? No one’s updated me since I was asked to stay in the hall.” Howard’s face was getting redder as he spoke, but I had a feeling he was just amping up. “Is she okay? You need to tell me.” He put a hand on the top of his head and bit down on his bottom lip. Sweat was glistening on his brow. His breathing was rushed, and he appeared one jolt away from screaming.
“Maybe we should talk in your apartment,” I suggested. “Someplace where you can sit down.”
The landlord waved me off. “That’s all right. I’ll be fine.” He leaned against the wall.
“We’re sorry to inform you that Ms. Cabot was murdered,” Jack said.
“She was—” He clamped a hand over his mouth and looked at the officer stationed outside Cabot’s apartment. “I should have known she was dead… I did on some level. But murdered? Wow.” His eyes were wide and wet.
Jack squinted. “Why should you have known?”
“Oh, just all the activity around here.”
Jack and I watched the man, but he didn’t seem to have anything else to offer on the subject of the murder.
“What was your relationship with Ms. Cabot?” Jack asked.
“Landlord and tenant. Nothing more.” He lifted up his left ring finger and tapped the gold band with his right hand.
“Is there anything you can tell us about Ms. Cabot that might help us find her killer?” I asked.
“Guess that would depend.” Howard paused and shook his head. “I still can’t believe this happened to her.”
“Just be patient with yourself,” I started. “This must all come as quite a shock to you.”
His eyes latched on to mine. “It sure does. She always pays— Um, she always paid her rent on time. Nice lady.”
If only her credit or good deeds could have saved her from dying.
“Did you ever see her with a man?” I asked.
Howard looked at me. “Are you talking about her boyfriend?”
“Sure.” I leaned in closer to him. “Do you know him?”
“Well, I could point him out in a lineup, but I’m horrible with names. I want to say his name starts with a J,” Howard continued, “but I could be out to lunch on that.”
John Doe, perhaps.
Jack took out his phone and brought up the photo array. He held the screen for Howard to see. “Do you recognize anyone here?”
“Guess I’m being tested on what I just said, huh?” Howard softly laughed it off, but no light hit his eyes. He focused on the pictures and pointed to our unsub. “That’s her boyfriend.” Howard looked at Jack and stepped back. “Did he do this to her?”
“What did you say his name was?” Jack asked.
“I didn’t say. I can’t remember it.” Howard was unapologetic, and it was plain to see that he really couldn’t remember the guy’s name.
Jack nodded. “How did the guy seem to you?”
I understood why Jack kept the questions rolling about our unsub. It was possible that the more Howard talked, the more he would remember.
“I met him a couple times, and both times, he seemed like a really nice guy. Before him, Roxanne would bring home…” Howard’s eyes went blank.
“Would bring home…?” I repeated, nudging him along.
His gaze met mine. “She’d bring home losers… Oh god… He did kill her, didn’t he?” His face paled, and his knees buckled. I reached for him, but he rejected my help with a wave of his hand.
“Spouses and lovers are always looked at first,” Jack told him with the ease of an experienced agent who’d been through this a million times.
“Right. I should have known that. The wife and I love those crime shows.” He looked at me. “Which one’s your favorite? I bet it’s—”
“I don’t watch any of them, actually,” I said, shutting him down quickly. “Please answer Agent Harper’s question.”
Howard looked at Jack. “As I said, he always seemed like a really nice guy. One day I opened my door as he and Roxanne had just walked past, and there was a flyer on the carpet. It must be someone in the building who leaves them, and when I find out who, there will be hell to pay.”
A vein throbbed in Jack’s forehead at Howard’s detour.
“Anyway,” Howard said, “he picked it up for me. Saved me from bending over. He even told me to have a good day.”
“When was this?” I asked.
He blew breath out his mouth. “Awhile ago now. Easily months ago.”
“When did you see him last?” I asked.
The color drained out of Howard’s face. “Actually, I think I saw him out in the hall last night.”
“And what time was this?” Jack inquired.
Howard squinted as he thought. “About nine thirty? Yeah, that sounds about right.”
Jack and I thanked Howard for his help and told him we might be in touch. We left him, knocked on a few doors to do more interviews, and returned to Cabot’s apartment about two hours after we’d left it. Apparently, we’d missed Lily, who’d already come and gone.
“She said TOD’s looking like last night between six and ten,” Zach told us.
“The landlord saw the unsub in the hall around nine thirty,” I said.
“Good, so we can place him here,” Paige said, then added, “Lily’s leaning toward strangulation as cause of death.”
“Just as we thought.” Jack went on to fill them in on how we’d made out with other tenants in the building, which hadn’t netted anything close to what we had gotten from the landlord.
“Lily also told us that she had a look at the autopsy photos for West and Sullivan. She could make out faint contusions on their necks above where they’d been severed from the rest of the body,” Zach started. “She’s not definitive that they were strangled but said it was a possibility.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised. The more we keep going with this case, strangulation seems to fit our unsub’s MO,” I said. “As does sexual assault and, obviously, decapitation.”
We really need to get this sick bastard off the streets.
“Speaking of sexual assault.” Paige curled her lips in disgust. “Lily thinks Cabot was sexually assaulted after death.”
My stomach turned, and the others looked just as peaked as I was feeling. After a few seconds, Paige said, “Cabot’s eyes were glued shut, too. Her phone was taken to the lab for rushed analysis as was the one on the body.”
“I take it that one was Kelter’s?” I asked.
“It was,” Zach stated soberly. It then struck me how serious he’d been most of this investigation and how uncharacteristic that was for him. Usually he was a goofball who cracked jokes, often at my expense. It could have been the case itself, but maybe there was more to it.
“I hesitate to ask,” I began, “but are there any messages on it for us?”
“Oh yeah,” Paige replied. “It said, ‘The chaos you’ve caused is unforgivable.’”
Our unsub wasn’t just calling us out. Those words sounded like a threat.