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AS LANDRY ARRIVED AT the restaurant, his phone rang. He groaned, knowing that his parents were waiting at the table for him. So much for a quiet evening, or he should say listening to his mom tell him it’s time he settled down and give them some grandkids. He’ll have to let them know he won’t be making it. “Landry.”
“Sir, I hate to ruin your evening, but we’ve got another dead body. It’s at The Riverside Inn. Forensics is on their way.”
“I’m not too far away, I’ll be there in a few.”
He quickly walked over to his parents’ table, bent down and kissed his mother on her cheek and shook his dad’s hand. “I hate to do this, but I have to go to a crime scene.”
His mom gave him a sorrowful look and stated, “But you just got here. Can’t you stay for a minute?”
He patted her hand; he did love her – even if she was being manipulative. “I wish I could, but duty calls.”
After telling his parents goodbye, he quickly made his way back to his car. Pulling out of the parking lot, he headed to the crime scene. Another dead body at another hotel couldn’t be good.
As he neared the crime scene, he noticed the bustle of activity that surrounded the crime scene. Half a dozen cop cars lined the streets, as well as the ambulance to carry the body away. Blue and red flashing lights lit up the night sky. People were milling about, curious about what had happened. Forms shifted through the lights before merging with the darkness once again.
He surveyed the crime scene from his car. Even after all these years, it still surprised him by what man was capable of doing, or in this case, a woman. With all that he had witnessed in his lifetime, he shouldn’t be surprised at the amount of pain another individual could inflict upon someone, but it did bother him.
Before leaving his car, he closed his eyes and erased the images of the previous crime scenes from his mind. He wanted to look at the scene with fresh eyes. Maybe this murder wasn’t connected to the others.
Steady now, images and emotions gone, he stepped out of his car. As he entered the hotel room, he noticed that the forensic technicians were busy collecting evidence and processing the scene. He tried not to focus on anything but the overall feeling that lingered in the room after a murder, as if the victim’s tortured soul attempted to tell him what happened. He could still feel the rage the killer felt for the victim. The victim had suffered before death relieved him of his pain.
With the first murder he had hoped it was a crime of passion, but now he knew they were looking for a serial killer. This was not a scorned lover who lashed out, but more than likely a scorned lover who sought revenge against men in general. He wondered if she felt remorse for the killings, surely a woman who killed felt some empathy for her victims. Or could they be dealing with a cold hearted bitch?
From the layout of the crime scenes, their killer had calculated her every move and meticulously planned out which poison to use. This murder had been perfectly orchestrated. Had death been her goal, or was it something much deeper? Was it for pleasure or revenge, perhaps both? Was she seeking vengeance on men because she couldn’t get them to do what she had in mind?
The victim thought he would get the ride of his life, and it turned out to be the last ride of his life. Did she know she would kill the victim, or was there something that he did to make her kill him? If he could figure that out, maybe he would be one step closer to stopping her.
He watched as the crime scene tech dusted the room for fingerprints. In a place like this, there would be a ton of prints, on the headboard, table, walls, television remote and door knobs. None of the fingerprints would do them any good. Their killer was smart; she would have worn gloves from the very beginning. She also wipes down everything she touches. Any of the prints retrieved from the crime scene would belong to the countless number of travelers who stayed in this room. From the fibers left behind at the crime scene, it looked as if their unsub wore black silk gloves.
Landry watched as the body was zipped into a black body bag and loaded onto the gurney. The body would be loaded into the ambulance and brought to the morgue.
Looking around, he had no doubt one killer committed these crimes. The signature remained the same, even if the poisons vary. The killer was careful and thorough. She left behind no evidence and even with the paper thin walls of the hotels, no one heard a thing. The victim expected his company and let her in willingly. The victim would also be the one that paid for the room; she wouldn’t leave a trail. If she stayed there, lying in wait for her prey, then she would use a disposable credit card and a fake name. So far they have had no single women reserving a room near the dates of the murders.
The current victim was from Stewart. While forensics processed the crime scene, Detectives Landry and Benoit would notify the wife about her husband’s death. Landry dreaded this part of the job. He did not do well with tears.
***
AS THEY DROVE TO KEVIN Fermin’s house, he wished he was already at home. He looked at the Fermin’s’ house. It was one of the cookie cutter houses in the neighborhood. These particular houses were built right about the same time, in the mid-seventies. Each house here had two large windows on either side of the front door, brick, with four white columns framing the front porch. At one point someone had tried to give the house some personality and added shutters to the main windows. Landry knocked on the door and waited for Mrs. Fermin to answer.
An attractive and very pregnant woman opened the door, “Mrs. Fermin?”
She looked at the two detectives, obviously confused. “Yes, can I help you?”
Landry shifted uncomfortably, “Ma’am, may we come in for a few minutes?”
“Of course, is something wrong?”
“We need to talk to you about your husband.”
Holding back a sob, she informed the two men, “He didn’t come home from work last night. I’ve been trying to call him for hours. Please don’t tell me he has been arrested or injured?”
Detective Benoit helped escort her to the sofa, “Ma’am, please sit down.”
Before they could even speak, the tears start flowing, “Oh God, was he involved in an accident? He’s not in jail is he?”
Landry informed her, “No, ma’am, he’s not in jail. I’m sorry, but your husband was killed last night.”
They watched as the news hit her. Detective Benoit was sitting next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, “Ma’am, is there someone we can call for you?”
“No, thank you though. Was it a car accident?”
“Your husband was murdered last night ma’am. I hate to ask you this, but where were you last night.”
“I was here at the house. I’m having problems with this pregnancy and wasn’t feeling too well yesterday. I spent most of the day in bed.”
Landry didn’t see a pregnant wife murdering her husband, but then again, if she found out he was cheating on her you never know. “Can anyone confirm that you were here?”
“My mother came by yesterday afternoon and stayed with me until late last night. She didn’t want me to stay alone and had hoped Kevin would be home before she left. She got tired close to eleven o’clock and went home.”
Landry knew she had a window of opportunity to murder her husband, but the bartender had stated that the victim was talking to a hot young woman at the bar. Landry didn’t see the bartender saying he considered a pregnant woman to be hot and sexy, or someone that made the rest of the men in the bar jealous.
Landry arranged surveillance for Kevin Fermin’s wake and funeral. Since a local, not a tourist, was her latest victim, the killer may attend his services. Not only would they have undercover cops working the area, but there would also be hidden video cameras as well as a photographer.
Funerals in the Deep South were an exhibition. Family and friends reminisced through laughter, tears, food and alcohol. This was especially true in this region of Louisiana. It was the heart of Cajun country. He had to take that into consideration when planning the surveillance. It would mean numerous photos had to be sorted through.
Landry wanted to make sure he had photos of everyone that attended the service. They would then take the photos and compare them to the video surveillance to see if they have any matches. Maybe they would have a stroke of luck and this would work.
He also made sure that a camera was set up at the grave, just in case the killer decided to wait and visit in private. Some killers liked to relive their sick and twisted fantasies.