It was brutal news to impart.
“Does that message mean anything to you?”
Cayce gave a broken laugh. “How could it mean anything to me?” she snapped. “None of this makes sense. I mean, obviously I would love to have Elena be with me forever, but I don’t want a piece of her organic body. I already have her soul with me.”
He slid his head to the side. “Meaning that your friendship will still cross the barriers of life and death?”
“Something like that,” she said with a nod.
“What happened when you guys were around eighteen? Could it be pertinent?” His gut said yes. “I’m pretty sure it is.”
“I don’t even know what to say,” she said. “I was stupid. I was young. My ex-fiancé was an older man.”
“He beat you up?”
“If you want to put it that way. He beat me up and put me in hospital. Elena came, swooped into the hospital, checked me out against doctor’s orders, kept me at her place until I healed, and set the cops on him. He committed suicide soon afterward. Couldn’t stand the publicity was my take on it …” She found it hard to talk about still—yet, when she got started, she couldn’t stop. “My stepfather was a nasty piece of work. He beat up my mother a couple times before he got caught for his lovely criminal activities. I swore I’d never be with a man like that, but somehow that’s the same place I ended up.”
“Oh, God,” Richard said. “I hate men like that. Where is your stepfather now?”
“Back East, rotting, I hope. Last I heard he was still behind bars. His last name is Brogan, Walter Brogan. My mother never changed our names when she married him.”
“Good. Hopefully he doesn’t get out—ever.”
“That’s my wish. We all hate men like that,” she said. “The problem is, I have to accept that part of me that went through that experience because it spawned my artistic side. For days, weeks, months even, I just painted red and black and ugliness. Then slowly, over time, I began to paint light and sunshine. I realized that I had a decision to make. I could live in that darkness and fear, or I could live in the lightness and joy. And, with Elena, who had already seen more than her fair share of evil at the hands of her own stepfather, we formed a bond to never get into that situation again. And every time we met thereafter, it was like meeting some part of my soul. We were so much alike. Our relationship was much closer than any others I had had.”
“Did you ever do any weird incarnation or something like that?”
She smiled and looked at him with one eyebrow raised in question.
“You know? Like, go to some tarot card reader and have your futures read or anything like that? I’m not sure what I’m trying to ask.”
“We didn’t have to,” she said simply. “When you save a person like that, you become a part of them. I have always carried Elena in my heart.” She instinctively placed a hand on her heart. She stared down at it, patted it, and said, “And Elena feels more at rest right now.”
He nodded, but his throat closed up as he remembered what he’d done during the night. “I’m really happy you have her close,” he said, “because that’s huge.”
“It is,” she said, managing to smile without the tears. “Do you have to go to the station now?”
He nodded. “I’m waiting for a buzz to tell me the security guard is back again.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not necessary,” she said.
“I’m pretty sure it is,” he said. “So we won’t take a chance.”
She sighed. “Fine. I just think it’s overdoing it.”
“Let me overdo it then,” he said, reaching out to gently touch her nose. “You’ve become very special to me, very, very quickly. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She smiled. “Ditto. So maybe you should keep safe yourself.”
“Do you think he’ll come after me?”
“I don’t know, but if you’re an impediment to him getting at me,” she said, “then maybe.”
He nodded. “I hope he does. I really hope he does.”
*
Richard got up and left soon after verifying the security guard was out front and Graham was downstairs. With a smile and a wave, he walked out and headed to the police department.
Andy was there waiting for him. “How is she?”
“Traumatized,” he said. “She has no idea what the message means, and, of course, she would never want to keep a piece of Elena’s body like that.”
“They’re analyzing the note. Apparently, the skin was treated with something to keep it from decaying.”
“That would make sense,” he said. “Do we know what that was?”
“Ivory Snow.”
Richard stopped in his tracks, looked at Andy, and said, “What?”
“It’s full of Ivory Snow. The soap. It’s used to preserve rawhide.”
“And did it? Preserve it, I mean.”
“A little bit, but it’s starting to deteriorate.”
“I wonder if he’s struggling to preserve the other pieces that he’s collected,” Richard said.
“Probably. There’s also something else about the latest victim, Liana.”
“What’s that?” The two of them talked as they walked into the station. “Her body was kept frozen for many months.”
“Shit,” he said. “What do you want to bet that she’s our ground zero victim?”
“Exactly. So we’re to follow Liana’s life today.”
“Good enough for me. Why did it take so long for anyone to know she was missing?”
“Because Liana was living with other people, and, when she said that she had a new gig and was moving out, nobody even questioned it. And no one knew she was missing.”
“So, we don’t know where she’s been living.”
“Not at all.”
“Great,” he said. “That’s not helpful.”
“It never is,” he said.
“Any analysis on the handwriting?” Richard asked.
“We don’t have anything to compare it to yet,” he said, “but we’re assuming it is that of the killer.”
“Something was almost feminine about it, wasn’t there?”
“Yes,” Andy said. “That was what I thought immediately.” He checked his email and pulled up a couple reports. “Let’s go to Liana’s last known residence.” They turned and headed back out.
Liana had lived in the artist section of town but in the cheaper digs, where multiple artists crowded together and lived the hippie lifestyle for much less money.
As soon as they knocked, the door opened. A kid fell out, getting on his shoes. “I have to go, man. I don’t know who you’re looking for. They’re all asleep.” And he bolted out the door.
Richard grabbed him by the arm and asked, “Did you know Liana?”
He looked at him in confusion, shook his head, and said, “I replaced Liana.” He pulled his arm free. “I have to go. Otherwise I won’t have a job.” After those words, he was gone.
The two detectives stepped inside and called out, “Hello. Anybody home?”
A young woman with purple hair, groggy and looking like she just woke from a heavy hangover, popped her head around the corner, and said, “Yeah, who’s asking?”
They both pulled out their badges and showed them.
She frowned. “Cops?”
“Detectives,” Andy said. “We’re asking about Liana.”
Her face immediately crumpled up. “We just heard,” she said. “My God, who could have ever hurt her?”
“Did you like her?”
“I loved to sleep with her,” she said. “She was always up for anything I wanted to do.”
“How long did you know her?” Richard asked.
“She lived here for a few months,” she said. “I probably slept with her half the time. Well, maybe not. Maybe a third. The others did too.”
“I thought she was gay,” said another guy, his sleep interrupted by the conversations.
She frowned, looked at him, and said, “You know what? I think she slept with the guys half the time.” She shrugged. “We don’t really keep count. We go with whoever we want to go with.”
“Interesting lifestyle,” Richard said.
“Absolutely,” she said. “And a healthy natural one. But I can’t help you.”
“What about her room?”
“The kid who just left has her room.”
“Any chance we can see it?”
“We put her stuff in storage,” another guy said, as he walked into the kitchen, his hair spiked up in some kind of gel, probably done up the previous night, and he was looking much older now that the night had passed. He held a cup of coffee like it was a lifeline.
“That would be good to see,” Richard said. “And do you know where she went from here?”
“She said she had a new gig, and it was the best deal ever. She wouldn’t tell us where.”
“Of course she wouldn’t,” Andy said.
“We just heard what happened to her,” he said.
“I need everybody who knew Liana to wake up and to make statements. Otherwise we’ll have to do it downtown at the station. So, can you go get your friends up?”
It took them hours to get the very groggy, hungover, drugged-out artists to sit down long enough to give their stories. Basically they all said everybody had been friends. With each of them, Richard heard the same thing about Liana. She had told them that she was taking off to live the good life because she got a perfect opportunity, and she was leaving them all. Sorry, suckers, but sayonara.
“And where are her things?”
The first guy they talked to hopped up, walked to the front closet, opened it, calling out from there.
Richard looked at him. “Is this all hers?”
“No, no,” he said. “This is.” He pulled out a duffel bag and another bag, dropping them at Richard’s feet. “We’d be really grateful if you would take this with you. We’re short on space.”
“Why would she leave her stuff behind?”
“Well, the way we figured it, she probably had a sugar daddy who would buy her all new stuff.”
“Wow,” Richard said. “You guys have so much that you just leave it all behind?”
“It holds us down, holds us back,” said the woman with the purple hair. “You really have to let all that go.”
“We need your contact information, all of you, in case we need to get in touch with you.”
Multiple groans came around the room. “Man, we’ve cooperated. Why do you have to get our cell phone numbers?”
“Because it’s the law,” Andy said. He stopped and slowly walked around, grabbing everybody’s name and phone number. When they were done, he looked at Richard and said, “Let’s go.”
He nodded, and they headed out. “Did we ever get any forensics from the dumpster?”
“No,” he said. “Well, nothing we’ve heard back on anyway.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice if it was like TV,” Richard said, “and we could just put it in and get it back within a day or two.”
“Wouldn’t it,” Andy said with a sneer.
Back at the police department, they walked into one of the interrogation rooms, opened up the door, placed the bags on the table. They both put on gloves and slowly went through everything here. The bag was filled with clothing; that was about it. Including dirty socks, dirty jeans, and, unfortunately, dirty underwear.
“Does this make any sense to you?” Andy asked Richard.
“Well, there are two theories,” Richard said. “Either she didn’t bother coming back because her good deal would replace it all, or she couldn’t come back to grab it.”
Andy nodded. “Sucks either way.”
They checked all the pockets. And they suspected that the others had already done the exact same thing, so not even a quarter was found in the pockets and certainly no money in the wallet.
“What do you think? Did the kids strip it?” Richard asked.
“Absolutely they did,” Andy said with a chuckle. “Did you see that group?”
“I wonder how much they make on their art.”
“I doubt very much,” he said. “Probably nothing at all.”
“Right.”
“Let’s check the duffel bag.”
They moved all the clothing off to one side. It would go to forensics anyway, and they brought up the larger bag. It was filled with notebooks. Richard opened one to see sketches.
“She’s an artist,” Andy said, staring at it. “It always comes back to art, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. They’re either wearing it or producing it.”
“Or both.”
“Exactly. Interesting thought.”
They quickly flipped through all the sketches. “This is nothing like Cayce’s work.”
“Everybody there is an artist,” Andy said.
“Right. So, it makes sense that we have sketchbooks.” He frowned at Andy. “But not that she left these behind.”
They quickly pulled the rest of the stuff from the duffel bag. They went through everything intently, but nothing gave them any answers.
When Richard picked up another sketchbook, he noticed that the back cover was thicker. He checked it out and found a pocket. Slipping his fingers underneath, he managed to pull out a note that had been stuck in there. He opened it up, took a careful look, and said, “This might be interesting.”
“What is it?”
“Declarations of love,” he said quietly.
“Any date on it?”
“No,” he said, “but the handwriting looks familiar.” He turned it so Andy could see.
Andy’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t quote me on this, but it’s likely from the killer.”
“Thorne’s, Liana’s, or Elena’s?”
“A shared lover?” Andy just stared at him. “We never considered that concept.”
“And I don’t want to consider it now either,” he said. “We need to get this stuff to forensics and especially get this letter looked at.”
They quickly packed everything back up, moved it all down to the forensics team, and Andy told them, “I don’t know if any of this has what we want, but this note that we found is the most interesting.”
The forensic team looked at it, nodded, and one said, “Just leave it all here. We’ll go through it.”
“Good enough,” he said.
As Richard turned and walked out, he asked, “Did you find anything on any of the crime scenes?”
“Not much. Nothing on the bodies either,” he said. “The one was definitely frozen. The others were fresh.”
“That’s always disconcerting,” Andy said.
“Do we know how long she was frozen?” Richard asked.
“A few months,” he said. “Hard to say any closer than that.”
“So possibly as soon as she went missing.”
“Do you have any idea who she was with?” the female tech asked.
“No. Somebody new, who would make her life perfect.”
The forensic tech just rolled her eyes, nodded, and said, “That’s what they all say.” She waved him away.
Andy asked Richard, “Do you want to talk to the coroner?”
“I’ve checked the autopsies that we have so far, and, of course, we’re still waiting on the drug tests.”
“We also need to confirm that the others were drugged as well.”
They made their way to the coroner’s office. When they knocked on the door, the coroner called out, “Come in.” He looked up and frowned at them both. “I don’t like this much work,” he said, snapping at them. “So would you find this asshole before I get a fourth body?”
“We’d love to,” he said. “Do you have anything for us?”
“They were all drugged. The lab tests are out until we get it back, but I’m suspecting it was something like ketamine, like the first one.”
“Right. And it was served in alcohol?”
“Yes, and their stomachs were full. They all ate their last meals, but nothing was tremendously different about any of them. Mostly burgers.”
“Burgers for all three of them?”
“Elena had a salad.”
“Which makes sense. She was a model,” Richard said.
“The other two had burgers,” he said.
“I wonder if a burger joint is close in the area where these bodies were found.”
“That’s your job,” the coroner said. “Go.” He shooed them out of the room.
They headed back upstairs to their desks in the communal bullpen and looked up any restaurants in the area around where the three dead bodies were found. Armed with the photos of the victims, they both hopped up and headed out to walk the streets. As soon as they got into the general five-block radius that they had picked to search, they went from restaurant to restaurant, asking if any of these people had been seen.
Almost immediately they got a hit. “Hey, that’s Liana,” one guy said. “She was in here all the time, and then I never saw her anymore.”
“When was this?”
The guy shrugged. “Must have been a couple months ago at least. No clue.” He looked at the photo, frowned, and asked, “She’s dead, isn’t she?”
“Sorry,” Richard said. “Yeah. Did you recognize who she was with?”
“She had one guy toward the end,” he said. “Up until that, she was almost always with a group. But then it became just one guy.”
“Any idea who it was?”
The waiter shook his head. “No,” he said. “I got so many people who come and go from here, it’s almost impossible to tell you who was who.”
“But it was a guy?”
The waiter looked at him in surprise. “Well, I mean, from the surface, I’d say it was, yes.”
He nodded. “Okay,” Richard said. “And no chance of a description? Have you seen him since? Have you seen that other guy with anybody else?”
“No,” he said frowning. “I only recognized Liana.”
“We need something to go on,” Andy said. “It might have been our killer.”
The waiter looked at him in horror. “Jesus, if that would ever make me remember, you just shocked it out of me.”
“Well, think a minute. Think about the two of them together. Was he taller than her? Was he skinnier than her?” Richard asked.
“Nobody is skinnier than Liana. The drugs took their toll on her. Another year or two, she probably couldn’t model anymore.”
“So, physical description?”
“A little heavier, a little taller, a little darker.” He frowned.
They waited, hopeful that something would trigger in his memory.
And then he shrugged and said, “I really don’t have any more. I got to get back to work. I need my job.”
They thanked him, got his name and phone number, and then left.
“Well, if he was seen at one, chances are, he was seen at multiple places.”
Andy said in agreement, “Let’s go.”
After going to several more restaurants, they found another one, a little corner marketplace that served subs. Several workers looked at the photos and recognized the victim immediately. One said, “Yeah. She used to come in here for a sub.”
“Did you recognize who she was with?”
The Italian-looking woman and another one frowned at him. “Why are you asking?”
Richard gave her a bit of a smile, pulled out his detective badge, and said, “We’re investigating her murder.”
Immediately she clasped one hand over her mouth, the other over her heart. “Oh my,” she said. “That’s terrible. But I don’t know anything about it.”
“Which is why we’re asking,” he said. “Somebody knows something.”
She nodded. “Yes, yes, yes. Somebody knows. But I don’t know anything.”
“Did she ever come in alone? Did he ever come in with others?”
“She came in with people, and then once she came in with a boyfriend.”
“Did you know her boyfriend?”
“Yes. He comes here too.”
“What’s his name?”
She frowned. “I don’t know his name. He wasn’t friendly like she was.”
“So, you have no clue who he is?”
“No,” she said. “It’s not my business.”
“I get that,” he said, “but we’re trying to find out who killed Liana.”
“Are you thinking this man did it?” She looked horrified and enthralled at the idea.
“No, not necessarily,” he said. “Remember? We don’t know anything yet.”
“You should know something,” she scolded him. “She was a nice young woman.”
“Which is why we’re trying to do something for her.”
“No,” she said, raising her voice. “You should have done something for her before.”
“Why is that?”
“She had a rough childhood,” she said. “With a better start, she’d have done well in life. Been more normal.”
“In what way was she not normal?”
“She was just different. She was too shy, too quiet. People took advantage of her. It was easy to tell her that the sky was falling, and she would believe it.”
“And you still don’t remember what the guy looked like who was with her?”
“No, no,” she said. “He was tall and better dressed. He was classy looking. Always well-manicured.”
“And he comes in here for subs?”
“No, he comes in here to get a few of my specialty sauces,” she said. “He’s a connoisseur.”
“But you don’t know his name?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
“Okay,” Richard said. “If you think of anything”—he pulled out his card—“anything at all, or if you see him come into the store, please contact me right away.”
She frowned at him.
“I don’t want you to be in any danger either,” Richard said.
Her eyes widened. “You really think it’s him?”
“No, I don’t,” Richard said, “but, until we talk to him, we can’t take him off the suspect list, so we’re wasting time.”
She nodded. “Okay,” she said. She immediately put the card down, off to the side, then she added, “You better leave. You’re not good for business.”
And, just like that, they were sent to the street.
“Too bad,” Richard said. “Their sandwiches look decent.”
“Right,” Andy said. “It should have been an easy thing to do. Just buy a sandwich, ask a few questions, and get out. But we’re not exactly getting a good reputation doing this.”
“No, we sure aren’t.”
“That’s okay too. Locations, like this, they stick together. Rather than call us, I suspect she’ll tell him that we were asking about him.”
Richard looked at him, looked back at the store, and nodded. “My feelings exactly.”
*
Naomi walked into her apartment, frustrated and angry. “It’s that bitch’s fault,” she said, talking to herself. “I shouldn’t have to work for a living like this as it is. But now I can’t seem to get any jobs.” And that bothered her. She stormed inside her apartment and slammed the door closed.
A voice, calm and controlled, asked, “What’s your problem now?”
She spun on him. “Why are you always here? Even when I don’t know it?”
“You told me to come and go at will,” he said, in a mild tone. “Plus I do own this apartment, as you know.”
“I know that,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean that you just get to come and go.”
“Interesting,” he said. “Because, up until now, I’ve paid an awful lot of the rent on this one.”
She groaned at that reminder. “I know that,” she said. “I’m just really having a shitty day. I can’t get any work. I’ve just been turned down on two other art jobs.”
“Normal,” he said. “Just stay calm.”
“Easy for you to say,” she said, glaring at him. “You don’t have to work for a living.”
“No, I don’t,” he said cheerfully. “And that hasn’t changed in all the time we’ve known each other.”
She threw herself down on her couch. “I was heading to the top. What happened?”
“You probably pissed off the artist,” he said.
“It’s that bitch Cayce,” she said. “I don’t understand why she doesn’t like me.”
He gave a chuckle that she had heard often.
“I know. You keep telling me to be nicer. It’s not part of my DNA.”
“It might need to be something that you cultivate,” he said mildly.
She wondered at the silkiness of his tone. Just something about having a friend who had more money than you all the time, that dressed better than you all the time, that made friends better than you all the time, that just seemed to get everything handed to him all the time. He had been very generous over the decades. “Why do you even like me?” she groaned.
“You amuse me,” he said.
She sat up and glared at him. “That’s not funny.”
“I thought it was,” he said. “You’re obviously in a bad mood. I did bring you some Chinese food. It’s over on the counter. But I really don’t want to hang around while you’re like this.” And he sauntered toward the front door.
She should call him back, but he was right. She wasn’t in a good mood.
As soon as he was gone, she raced over to the Chinese food and crowed in delight. It was her favorite noodle dish. She immediately put it on a plate and stuck it into the microwave.
It might be the only meal she got for the next twenty-four hours. She was no good with money. It was always a case of what she could buy instead of planning or saving. She wanted what she wanted, and she was no good at denying herself.
When the Chinese food was warmed up, she sat down at the table and shoveled the food in her mouth. When she was done, she could feel a warmth taking over her.
“Thank God for a hot meal,” she said. She yawned and whispered, “But now it’s really nap time. Then I’ll go out and party!”
She got up, stumbled into her room, and threw herself across the bed. She was asleep almost immediately.