Something was wrong.
The area around the house had been cordoned off with crime scene tape, which was normal. Several officers were standing around talking in hushed tones, though, and the air felt thick and oppressive. Chris did a fast parking job, and then he and Eleni got out of the government-issued sedan and headed over to where the nearest Chicago PD officer was standing just inside the tape. Chris flashed his badge, then motioned for Eleni to follow him.
“She’s with me,” he noted to the cop, who nodded and raised the tape so the two of them could enter the crime scene area. The officer used his radio to announce their arrival to the agent in charge of the scene, just as the coroner’s vehicle arrived and parked behind them.
“I was afraid of that,” Chris muttered in a low tone. He tried to hide the distress he was feeling, but didn’t succeed.
“What?”
“With the coroner here, it means either the perp is dead, or one of the agents got killed during the arrest.”
She squeezed his arm. “Let’s go find out before we start guessing.”
“Agreed.” They took the porch steps up to the front door and put on the protective booties and rubber gloves they were handed by an officer at the entryway. Steve Taylor, the agent in charge of the FBI’s local special weapons and tactical team, met them with a nod. Steve was another large man, similar in build to his own, but with gray hair at his temples and lines of experience etched in his face. If Chris had to guess, he’d figure Steve was a good ten years older than his own thirty-three years, but the man was in amazing shape, and was sharp as a needle with intelligent brown eyes that missed absolutely nothing. He was dressed in combat gear as they always did when entering an unknown situation. Chris didn’t socialize with Steve, but he had worked with him a time or two in the past. He shook hands, introduced Eleni as a consultant and put his hands on his hips. “So, what have we got?”
“When we entered, we found the perp dead on the kitchen floor. He’d been shot twice in the chest. I’m guessing it was a .45, but I’ll let the coroner confirm that. We’ve got one slug we’ve dug out of the wall. We also found something else you’ll want to see.” He motioned for both of them to follow him, and took them down the stairs into the basement. In the middle of the room, there was a large worktable covered with old screws, nails, bottles, tin cans, and bits of machines and metal components. A sour smell permeated his senses, and he wrinkled his nose. The stench was a mixture of chemicals, mold and stale body odor. Apparently, their perp had spent a lot of time down in his basement, but hadn’t worried about cleanliness.
“What’s all this?” Chris asked.
“Well, the guy won’t win any points for neatness, but we did find this interesting.” He pulled a pen from his pocket and pointed at a small brown glass bottle. It was clearly marked “cyanide” and had the name of the manufacturer on the label as well.
“Does it match up with our restaurant cyanide?”
“It’s the identical brand, and the size and color of the jar corresponds to the order we found. We’ll have to confirm that the chemical compounds are the same with our lab, but it looks like we’ve found our killer. Now we’ve just got to figure out who murdered him and why.”
A chill went down Chris’s spine and a touch of nausea churned his stomach. He’d never get used to the death that he encountered through his job. Maybe that was a good thing. When death became so common that he ignored how it made him feel, then it was definitely time to find a new line of work.
“We’ll take a look around, then head back upstairs,” Chris announced. Steve nodded, then turned and left them in the basement alone.
“I can’t believe a person can order cyanide and have it shipped through the mail like a pair of socks or a bottle of vitamins,” Eleni commented as she studied the contents of the shelves.
“You’d be surprised what you can order off the internet,” Chris replied. “Even controlled substances are getting easier to get. Unfortunately, some people are more interested in making a profit than they are ensuring public safety, and international markets don’t have the same restrictions we have here in the states.”
“Maybe I’ll make that the subject of my next article,” Eleni mused. “It sounds like the issue needs to be brought to light.”
“Now, that’s a great idea,” Chris agreed with a nod. “I look forward to reading that.”
They spent several minutes perusing the basement, looking for any other clues that might tie the shooting victim to the poisoning and the other recent crimes. At one point, Eleni pointed to a dead rat in the corner that had obviously been there quite some time. “Have you ever seen such a mess?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Many of the people we arrest are not too worried about cleanliness.”
“The dirt is one thing,” Eleni said, “but this smell! It’s horrific. It makes me want to open a window or two. I don’t know how anyone could actually work down here for any length of time.”
Chris smiled. Few civilians realized everything people in law enforcement had to deal with on a regular basis. “Agreed, but thankfully, we’ll only be down here a few minutes. Keep looking and let me know if you see anything out of the ordinary or strange to you.”
“I’m not sure what I’m looking for. Do you know?”
“No idea,” Chris stated as he studied the items on the table, “but since we’re still hunting for our perp’s motive, just try to keep an open mind.”
“Okay.”
They both moved slowly around the basement, taking in the items stored haphazardly around the room. The shelves were filled with old paint cans and fertilizer packs, and the pegboard on the wall was covered with hooks of various sizes and held several garden implements and tools, which Chris found ironic since the man’s yard was in total disrepair. They had probably belonged to a previous owner, and had just never been removed. He looked toward the corner underneath the stairs. Even the rust-covered washer and dryer looked as if they had both seen better days. Water stains and chemical burns surrounded the wall and floor near a small utility sink.
They spent a few more minutes studying the area, and Chris even snapped some photos with his phone before they went back upstairs. They headed to the kitchen next, where there was a man in jeans and a green T-shirt lying with his back on the ground. Two bloodstains marred his chest where the bullets had entered his body and ended his life. His eyes were still open, and his face had a frozen expression that still showed surprise. The victim was Caucasian with brown hair, and his body had taken on a discolored, bloodless hue. Chris guessed he was in his thirties, but looked older, probably because of methamphetamine use. He had the poor skin and teeth that pointed to the drug habit, but the autopsy would confirm his hypothesis.
“Recognize him?” Chris asked.
Eleni moved so she could get a better look. “No, sorry.”
Her voice was softer than Chris expected, and he glanced at her direction. Was she turning a little green? Blood was spattered all over the floor behind the body, and had also formed a pool on the floor around his back. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and the smell in this room was worse than the smell in the basement. Chris had seen his share of horrific scenes, but he was fairly certain Eleni hadn’t. What had he been thinking, bringing her to a crime scene? His first instincts had been correct. He should never have let her get involved in the investigation.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, gesturing toward the door they had come in through.
“Wait,” Eleni wanted nothing more than to make a quick exit, but something odd had just caught her eye. There was a recycling container by the refrigerator, and inside, she saw several old newspapers and magazines amongst the beer cans. What interested her, though, were the clippings that were also in the box and spilling out onto the floor. She stepped carefully around the body and reached in for one of the papers. There were holes where certain letters had been cut out. “I wonder if these missing letters match the letters in that horrible note I got in the mail.” She held up the paper and looked at Chris through the holes. “There can’t be too many people cutting out letters and sending hateful notes through the mail.”
He smiled. “Good find!” He motioned to one of the officers that was standing nearby and asked for an evidence bag. He put the newspaper inside along with one of the magazines that also had letters cut from the pages and then marked the bag. “I wish I could tell you that you were safe, now that we know that the killer is dead, but he sure didn’t die from natural causes. Now we have even more questions.”
“And it means this might be bigger than we originally thought,” Eleni added, following him out. Did the man’s death mean the criminals who had planned the poisoning had a falling-out, or was there another reason for his murder? And what, if anything, did the man that had been following her have to do with this? The features of the man who’d been wearing the White Sox jacket didn’t match the man who lay dead on the kitchen floor. She pushed the thoughts aside as her stomach twisted, and she ran out the front door, stopping at the bottom of the steps and taking a deep breath, trying to regain her equilibrium and enjoy the fresh air that filled her lungs. The smells she’d encountered in the basement were nothing compared to the smell of death surrounding the body in the kitchen. It had obviously been there a couple of days, and the scent still seemed to coat her nostrils. She was glad Chris had allowed her to come, but it would be a while before she could forget the sights and smells she’d just encountered. She had asked to be included—begged even. She could hardly complain now that she’d gotten what she’d asked for. Still, she really hoped she didn’t lose her pancakes here on the overgrown lawn of the man who had tried to kill her and her precious daughter.
“You okay?” Chris asked, worry in his tone.
“I will be,” she responded. “I’m not used to being around death.” She eyed him speculatively. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“It’s the worst part of the job,” he agreed. “Well, almost the worst.”
“What could be worse than that?”
He stopped walking and the expression on his face was pure pain and sorrow. She was immediately sorry she’d asked. She didn’t want to think about what was worse, and she could tell her question had brought up memories that were best left alone. He had obviously witnessed much worse, and probably on more than one occasion. “Never mind,” she murmured. “What are the best parts?” she asked, hoping to turn the conversation into a positive tone.
Chris looked startled by her question. “There aren’t many.”
Eleni frowned. “Really? I would think that helping people get justice ranked pretty high up on the list. When someone’s life has been destroyed, your team comes in and helps put the pieces back together again. I would think that would be rewarding, and I know you’ve had a successful career.” She shrugged, unrepentantly, when he raised an eyebrow. “I looked you up.” He was silent for a moment, and she gave him a nudge. “Don’t worry. I’m sure most of your career is not open to the public eye. But you have been a part of some cases that had wonderful conclusions. Like that money laundering case down in Atlanta. I came across that case when I was doing research for my big exposé. You stopped Bryce Cameron, who was operating a major international scheme. That case alone was quite the accomplishment.”
“His real name was Shawn Parker, and yes, he’ll be in prison for the rest of his natural life. I was part of the team that worked that case, but I got taken out early. I was shot in the shoulder by a guy trying to kill our star witness.”
“That wasn’t in the reports I read,” she said softly. “Are you okay now?”
“My wound healed. I had to do some physical therapy before coming back full-time, but I’m pretty much back to normal now.” He rotated the arm and shoulder that must have been affected. Eleni realized he probably didn’t even know he was making the subconscious motion as he spoke about his injury. “You wouldn’t have seen a report. They don’t usually release the names of the agents that are injured to the public.”
“Well, I’m really glad you healed up so well. I don’t know if you get thanked often enough for the sacrifices you make, but thank you.”
“Sacrifices?” He seemed genuinely puzzled.
“Of course!” Eleni replied adamantly. “I have always highly respected those who choose law enforcement for a career, even if I struggle to get along with them, like I did with the officers who investigated Charlie’s death. You put yourself in harm’s way each and every day that you’re on the job. It takes a special kind of person to do that.”
“I’m no hero,” he said softly, real pain in his voice. She could see a muscle tighten in his jaw. Was he that unhappy with his current profession? What had happened to hurt him so?
“I’ve had some successes, sure,” he responded before she had a chance to ask anything further. “But I’ve had more failures than successes lately. I guess it’s made me see things with a more cynical eye. I’d be lying if I said I had it all figured out.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “You know, I don’t really want to talk about this.”
Eleni put up her hands in a sign of mock surrender. She didn’t want to push him into a conversation that he clearly didn’t want to have. “Fine by me. I’m really sorry if I touched a sore spot.”
“It’s okay,” he responded. “It’s only sore because I’m still working through it.” He ran his hands through his hair. He looked up and caught her eye, and she saw a despair and frustration she hadn’t expected. “Actually, maybe I do need to talk about it.”
Eleni gave him a smile that she hoped showed kindness and understanding. She touched the side of her head. “Look. I have two ears, no waiting.” They were still in front of the suspect’s house, and a stream of people, including the coroner and the coroner’s assistant, were coming and going from the residence. This was not the place to continue talking, especially with so many people milling around. They had been keeping their voices down, but she still didn’t want to have anything either of them said to be overheard or misinterpreted. He was amongst his own here, but privacy was still warranted. She nodded toward the sidewalk across the street beyond the crime scene tape. “Let’s take a walk, okay? You don’t have to say a word unless you want to, but I’d like to stretch my legs. The rest is totally up to you.”