Chapter Six

Today Carter was busy unpacking boxes in their small, exorbitantly expensive apartment. Stumbling over a particularly heavy one, he decided to sit down, unpack, and organize as many as he could while Jill was out at the lab.

Jeez! There must be fifty boxes of junk to go through, and everything’s thrown in together. How’d we ever collect all this junk? Look at this - my blender and her books. All ten boxes of them.

Our life is kind of like that now; everything’s happening to us both at the same time. Yeah, but this is the bigtime, Carter, and all you have to do is close the case by Christmas. Piece of cake.

Carter filed it under “change and pressure” and closed the lid firmly on that line of thought. He often confused denial with peace of mind and then wondered why he had no peace of mind. Carter believed that the basic tenant of a serene existence was to accept that what he did not understand now would be revealed to him when the time was right. Until that time came, Carter gladly ignored issues that would better have been better off examined and addressed.

He bent down to open another box of books and lifted one out to look at.

I remember this. Jill gave it to me when we first met. We even had lines from it quoted at our wedding…

It was a beautiful hardbound copy The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, its thousand-year old quatrains a death sentence in the place and time they were written. Carter felt drawn to the poetry because it was a not-so-subtle reminder to live in the moment and to accept the joy of earthly pleasures as much as he embraced spiritual ones. Carter re-read the lines he remembered so well:

“A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,

A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread – and Thou…”

It all boiled down to that one idea, didn’t it? Our everyday hustle and bustle and all our burning desires and ambitions were meaningless without knowing the comfort and contentment of simple, quiet moments of peace and companionship and bread and wine.

I want more of those moments with her. But that’s not the reason she wanted me to read it. The lines also meant that I should always try to recognize and celebrate those moments whenever they presented themselves and that if they didn’t, it was because I wasn’t looking hard enough. She’s all the shade and bread and wine I need.

The ring of his cell phone brought Carter back to the present.

***

Seacrest had some news on the museum murders, but she couldn’t send it to him by text message or email. She wanted Carter to come to the lab. He knew how much Seacrest enjoyed his look of perplexity as she presented her lab findings and how impatiently he waited for the bottom line. He loved that about her and wouldn’t rob her of one moment of her big reveal. He grabbed his coat and raced over to the lab.

***

Jill held up a grey sneaker with streaks of white and maroon on the sides. “For those of us not so athletically inclined, this is a Stridewell.”

“The killer wore sneakers inside the armor? Stridewells? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. The pattern of the bloody shoeprint on the floor matches this exact make and model. We lucked out, Carter. There’s not much call for these shoes anymore. If you can put some men on it, we need a list of all the places in the tristate area that sell these Stridewells in a men’s size 11, and if they have it, a list of people who paid with a card. The register tape will tell us what time each purchase was made and at what register, so we can use in-store videos to spot any purchases made with cash.

“Since we know our man likes the Upper West Side, I think we should start with the stores there, don’t you think?”

“Yup. He definitely wore the sneakers after he took off the armor but before he walked out the door.”

“He’s an amateur, then.”

“You think this was his first kill?” Jill placed the shoe carefully back in its evidence bag. It was being shipped to Washington for a more complete forensic analysis. Seacrest wanted to get some blood samples for D.N.A. testing before she sent it off.

Carter focused on the shoes. “I do. These babies look expensive, Jill. He likes to live well or he saved a long time for them. I’ll bet he still has them.”

“These sneakers, which we have to prove he purchased or has in his possession, along with a positive D.N.A. identification for victim and killer, ties this man to the scene. Definitely. We just have to find the man.”

“We’re off to the races, Jill. We’ll find him. Nice job.”

“Maybe you should tell my supervisor that. I’m already off on the wrong foot with him. I didn’t know I was supposed to get his signed permission to use tread-tracking equipment. Well, what’s the big deal? I have to do my job, don’t I? Honestly, what a baby!”

“Blame the shortcuts on me.”

“I already did.” Jill fought to keep a straight face.

Carter’s phone rang. He put his hand over the receiver and whispered to her, “It’s the deputy director. Another murder – this time in New Jersey. He wants me in his office in five minutes.”

Carter pecked her on the cheek. “Gotta go.”

Curious as hell, Seacrest watched him walk away.

***

Fischetti stood behind his desk, hands on his hips and a sour expression on his face. “What do you make of this, Agent Carter?” Fischetti flipped the photo around for Carter to see.

Carter leaned in from the opposite side of the desk to take a look. The victim was nearly eviscerated from the top, down. A headless corpse was seated on a chair. Its legs were in what looked like pieces of a pair of men’s slacks. The remains of its feet were disconnected from the body but under the legs where feet should have been. In the far right of the photo a skull rested on the stump of a coffee table, staring at what had become of its body.

Carter stated the obvious. “You think it’s a murder.”

“It’s not spontaneous combustion, Agent Carter.”

“It could be anything at this point, sir, unless you have some facts you haven’t shared yet. Have you ruled out accident? Suicide? And spontaneous combustion?”

Fischetti guffawed. “I appreciate your open mind, Carter, but the Department of Justice thinks this is another thrill kill or a copycat, but they’re not ruling out the possibility of a serial murderer or a spree. Are you familiar with the difference, Carter?”

“Yes, sir. A spree killer differs from a serial killer in that he or she allows no cooling off period between murders.”

“We need hard evidence that shows a pattern of thrill kills and copycats, serial, or spree murders. The local P.D. wouldn’t know a murder if they saw one. The scene is compromised, and we’ve been asked to step in and clean up the mess. I need your team out there. Now.”

Carter turned to leave the office.

“Carter, do not, under any circumstances, share our theories with Agent Deeprose, at least, not yet. I don’t want her assuming anything because the D.O.J. is. She’s going to be trained by the book, but keep her reigned in. That’s all.”

Carter nodded, realizing that keeping this kind of secret from Deeprose wouldn’t exactly ignite a trusting relationship.

***

Carter felt Deeprose staring at him from the passenger seat as he drove. It was like being scanned by a laser. He cleared his throat. “You’ll meet Special Agent Seacrest today. She’ll be there to go over the scene for forensic evidence and gather lab samples.”

Deeprose eyed the photo of the charred victim. “Sounds like she was in on the briefin’ or had one of her own. Ah’m glad it’s all under control, sir.”

Ouch.

Carter peered into the rearview mirror to monitor his expression. He knew this was coming and better it was done sooner than later. “The scene is under the jurisdiction of the New Brunswick P.D., and the media is already all over the neighborhood. It’s going to be a long day, and we won’t have a chance to talk in private once we get there. You want to talk about it?”

“Yes, sir, Ah do. Why wasn’t Ah part of the briefin’?”

“There wasn’t much to the briefing, other than the photo you’re holding.”

“Ah’m not telepathic, sir, and Ah should have been with y’all at the briefin’.”

Fischetti wants this to be a training exercise for you. He figures the less you know beforehand, the less likely you are to have preconceived notions or biases. It also gives us a measure of control on the team – you’ll have a more objective viewpoint than the rest of us who’ve been doing this for years. I don’t think he meant it as a slight or a lack of faith in you. In fact, he asked me not to mention it to you, but there you go, the cat’s out of the bag. Anyway, I’m going to act be much more of a mentor than a partner on your first several cases. You’ll start out the right way using the right tools and methods before we analyze the evidence, develop hypotheses, and draw our conclusions. O.K.?”

“Ah guess. So, y’all want me to go in there and ask only the occasional question.”

“That’s the gist of it. The less you say today, the more you’ll see and hear. This bunch is already going to have a chip on their shoulder when we walk in. Let’s give them the satisfaction of telling us, in their own words, just how badly they screwed up our crime scene. It’ll save us a lot of time today if you can act a little more like a kid just out of John Jay. That’s the college of criminal justice if you didn’t know.”

“Why the chip on their shoulder, sir?”

“Anytime the feds have to step in to assist local police with its superior lab service or anything else, their nose gets out of joint. They’re not equipped for something like this, and they know they compromised the scene already, but they’ll have to play it off to save face.”

“Oh yeah, the pissin’ contest. Ah forgot about that. That’s one thing about the service Ah don’t miss. Sir, this photo seems to imply spontaneous combustion. Why not just send lab personnel to the scene and send us out on another lead?”

“Honestly, Agent, I don’t know. Fischetti wants us here to assess all the possibilities, no matter how it looks or what we’re told today. If I’d worked with him for any length of time, I might understand why he wants us to be flies on the wall for now, but I don’t. We’re both rookie agents in this regard, so I think we’ll just go in, see what there is to see, and discover what there is to discover. Agreed?”

Deeprose perked back up. “Agreed. Ah’m goin’ to enjoy squeezin’ info outta those Jersey boys. They’ll never know what hit ‘em.”

Carter smiled knowingly. Investigators often made the worst interviewees, especially when north met south. “Agent Deeprose, I’m going to ask you to do something difficult for me, today. We’re stepping on enough toes as it is, and I don’t want to push any unnecessary buttons because of your, uh, your…” Carter flushed and coughed.

“My what, sir?”

“Your…oh, damn it, your accent. I want you to hang back a little. Don’t try to squeeze anything out of the boys. I want your eyes and ears on everything and everyone. There are preconceived notions at work here, and I want to know if I’m being intentionally pushed in a particular direction. If I am, I want to know why. While I’m interacting, I want you monitoring. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Rain kept them company during the rest of the drive. It was a cold, clammy, miserable rain, the kind that always managed to drip down the back of your coat collar all the way down to your back. Deeprose shivered. She didn’t care for ugly, gray skies.

When they finally arrived, the commanding officer, Captain Morelli, looked irritated and uncomfortable. “And you are?”

Carter showed him his identification and introduced them. “We’re here to assist you in any way we can, Captain. Agent Seacrest will be here momentarily to conduct a forensic investigation. She’ll also be arriving with a crime scene crew.”

“Well, aren’t we the lucky ones to have the big boys from New York helping out the Jersey yokels. Hey, listen up you guys, the feds just arrived on a white horse to save the day. Let’s show them a little appreciation for helping us out, eh?”

Several men looked up, grumbled and went back to work.

“Agent Carter, my men have already been all over the crime scene. There’s nothing there. Zip. Nada. What happened in there is anyone’s guess. But if you think you can find something we haven’t, go ahead and knock yourselves out. If there’s anything we can do to help you, why, you just let us know.”

***

Morrelli walked away probably thinking that if word got out that they’d bungled the job, he might never recover the reputation it took him fifteen years to build. He might even be busted in rank. That would be even worse than being transferred to East Jesus, Idaho.

Morrelli decided it might go better for him if he cooperated a little now that he spoke his piece, so he turned back to Carter and Deeprose. “We need your forensics to confirm the victim’s identity. We also need to determine if it’s suspicious or accidental.”

***

Deeprose’s eyes grew to twice their normal size. Despite the gruesome photo depicting what looked like spontaneous combustion, it was obvious that she was surprised it hadn’t already been termed suspicious. Morrelli must have been told that the D.O.J. was was pushing to conclude this was another thrill kill. Carter was glad now that Agent Deeprose hadn’t been filled in. As a rookie, the last thing she needed was to get tangled up in department intrigue.

The thing was, the possibility of a thrill kill could be tossed out right now. Something else was going on.

Why is the D.O.J. goin’ out of its way to make this as difficult for me as possible? Why do I get the feelin’ we’re supposed to hand them the findin’ they seem to want so much? If these are thrill kills, I’ll eat my hat. They may be completely unrelated. They probably are! But neither murder was done for the thrill of it. Right now, our best chance of breakin’ these two cases depends on whether the killer or killers are amateurs, because amateurs make big, sloppy mistakes.

Carter pulled out a notepad. “Can you give us time of discovery? Who reported it?”

Morelli sighed. “A neighbor called the fire department when she heard the fire alarm go off and smelled smoke outside. Ms. Rivera said she smelled a strange, offensive odor more than she smelled regular wood smoke. We kept the details of the case from the neighbors and press. The victim had no family.” Morelli gazed intensely at Carter, who kept his eyes on his notepad.

“Did she know the occupant?”

Morelli looked at him like he was a moron. “You know neighbors; they never know anyone once the cops arrive! The name of the occupant is David Florio. No, we don’t know if the victim is also the occupant. We asked him, but in his current condition, he was unable to answer. He’s twenty-seven and single. You better write that down in your little notebook, Agent, or you might forget.”

“I know this is your baby, Captain. I’m here only to offer you our services and nose around a little to see if it ties in with any of my other cases. That’s all. I have the authority to take over the case right now, and you know that, but I won’t, Captain. I have bigger fish to fry, and I’m not interested in stealing your thunder.”

Morelli looked dubious but relented. “All right, all right. What else do you want?”

“In high-profile cases like these it’s better to give the media as much information as possible without blowing the details only the killer would know. More information tends to jog the memory of witnesses. The more information we can put out there, the less secure our killer will feel. He’ll make rash decisions that’ll lead to mistakes, or someone will turn him in.” Carter looked the captain in the eyes now that they’d come to an understanding.

Morelli blew his cork. “Wait just a damn minute there, buddy. Unless you pull rank on me, there’s no way I’m going on the six o’clock news to tell this town that what we have here may be an accident or a suicide or a spontaneous Goddamn combustion when I know damn well it’s a murder! And I am sure as shit not going to tell the world that two separate incidents in two separate states might be thrill kills and related to each other. That’s just what I need – a panic. Look, Agent, I have five more years to retirement, and that means I can’t afford to make a wrong call. If you want it on the news so much, one of your own people can make the statement.”

“You know that isn’t possible, Captain. Our cover can’t be blown. That’ll either force their hand, which we don’t want just yet, or scatter them to the four winds, in which case these cases will go cold before winter sets in.”

Agent Seacrest pulled up to the investigators with her window down. She had seen the local cops going in and out of the apartment and was already hopping mad. Oblivious to any authority that wasn’t her own, she flashed her badge at the captain as if he was a clumsy waiter and barked an order at him.

“No one is to enter that apartment without my approval. Do you understand me, officer?”

Morelli turned purple. “Look lady, you can’t just fly down here on your broomstick, flash your badge and tell me what to do at my own crime scene! Who the hell do you think you are? These are my men, and I put them there! Per regulation! They’re wearing shoe covers for God’s sake; they know their jobs.”

“I don’t care if they’re wearing fairy boots!” Seacrest slammed the car door shut and marched herself into the home. She used her thumb hitch-hiker style to wave them out. “Everyone out! And I said NOW!”

***

Carter was highly amused but he kept his mouth shut and wore a straight face.

She certainly is something to see in action, unless you’re on the receiving end. Poor guy, he had no idea what his day was going to be like when he got up this morning.

Morelli ran after her. “Now listen here, you…”

Seacrest turned slowly, and spoke in her executive tone, which was dangerously low and level. “I am certain you want to cooperate with me, sir. I am equally certain you do not want to be responsible for having contaminated my crime scene. Furthermore, if your men have destroyed my chances for obtaining any useable evidence of which there should be a prodigious amount, I will make sure it is your ass that swings on national television. Are we clear now?”

She stood her ground and gave him a look that clearly dared him to challenge her. One thing she knew is that the only thing a bully understood was a bigger bully. So she stared him down and counted silently. One, two, three, four…

“O.K. O.K. Keep your skirt on.” Morelli spat on the ground and spoke into his shoulder mic. “Get everyone out of the apartment. Now.”

Deeprose whispered to Carter. “Wow, Ah like her! How’d the two of you ever get together? Ah mean…” She turned red with embarrassment.

“Relax, Agent. I know just what you mean. If you ever figure it out, let me know.”

Inside the garden apartment, Seacrest employed optical spectroscopy via camera to view the flooring area, particularly around the remains of the body. Carter stood in the doorway. He could hear Seacrest making exclamation points with her Ah-hah’s and Uh-oh’s. She was onto something.

Deeprose examined the outside windows as Carter observed Seacrest. She hummed as she investigated. Carter couldn’t help notice the difference in the way both women behaved while they were concentrating.

Interesting.

Deeprose interrupted his thoughts. “There’s no evidence that a door was kicked in and no marks or scrapes on the window sills. Ah think if there is a killer, he or she knew our victim. This would also support the accidental death and suicide argument, though. Y’all can’t really think this is anythin’ but a murder, can you? An’ it seems to me that neither one is in the slightest way related to the other. There is not one similarity in the style of the kills, the victims, or locations. Sir, what in the heck is going on here?”

Carter made a steeple with his index fingers. “Remember, Agent, no assumptions. What exactly makes you think this is a murder? There’s no forced entry, as you said, but that doesn’t mean much at this stage. Knowing the exact cause of death should help is determine the answer. We have to be able to definitively rule out accident and suicide, and we need to determine the identity of the victim.”

Seacrest appeared at the front door. “I think I found something.”

Luminol was a spray that revealed any sign of blood on a surface, even if it was washed. There was a lot of it on the chair where the body was found. “I’d love to tell you more, but in a nutshell, until I get back to the lab, all I can really tell you is that there is a good amount of blood on the chair. I’m hoping there are at least two different kinds. I’m going to look around some more.” She eyed the floor. “Give me a few hours to collect more samples, and then we’ll let the mass spectrometer tell us what might have happened to our victim.”

Seacrest raised a purple, gloved hand in Agent Deeprose’s direction. “I’m Agent Seacrest. Welcome to the team. I’d shake your hand, but…”

Deeprose was all smiles. Seacrest, it seemed, had an admirer. “No worries, Agent Seacrest. Ah’m Agent Shania Deeprose, and Ah want you to know it was a pleasure watchin’ y’all give it to that big bully in the parkin’ lot.

“So, can you rule out spontaneous combustion at this point, or what?”

“I can’t rule it out; it’s simply not that easy. There are many factors that will determine what goes into my report. I will say one thing, though; the place has been completely torched. In cases of spontaneous human combustion, or S.H.C., the surrounding area doesn’t burn easily, but the body can burn for several hours due to the way fire consumes fat. There is also something called a ‘wick effect’ which occurs when body fat burns as if it were a candle. In these respects, there does not seem to be much to support the spontaneous combustion theory. If the victim had died of S.H.C., most of the place would have been spared the fire. Most incidents termed spontaneous human combustion are ones where there is simply no other plausible explanation, anyway. According to the latest studies, there may be no such thing at all.

“Add to that the fact that there could be a host of external sources of ignition that could be responsible for an accidental suicide. For instance, did he fall asleep while smoking? Did he consume flammable drugs or dabble in anything that might explode? Did he drink alcohol excessively, perhaps inadvertently exposing it to leaking gas?”

Deeprose looked morose. “Ah guess Ah didn’t think of that,”

“Don’t look so down-in-the-mouth, everyone! The best way to determine cause of death is to let science tell us.”