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“So what have we got?” Luis asked, staring from one to the other, obviously waiting for the best punchline the Duke City Police Department had to offer.
“Adel Martinez took a call, sir,” Malin said. “I could hear a man’s voice asking if she had the book and to bring it to the Corrales Spring Fair. I checked her cell phone while she was sleeping, asked Temeke to trace a number. It was registered to a Gabriel Mann, false ID, old address.”
“This book.” Temeke set the leather bound book on the top of Luis’ desk and scooted it over. “Seems it’s hot property. Demonology. Your favorite genre.”
Luis gave Temeke a narrow-eyed look. “You’ll be seeing Ms. Martinez again?”
“As soon as yawner here gets some kip.”
“There is something else.” Malin attempted a smile, but the edges of her mouth barely forced a crease. Her head kept bobbing on that lean stalk of a neck and her eyes had begun to water. “I left a message for Mr. Mann pretending I was Adel Martinez. Told him I had found the book and confirmed my meeting with him at the Fair this weekend.”
“There’s no proof, Luis, not until we catch him in the act,” Temeke said.
Luis lost his smile, seemed to be honing in on that last comment. “Seems like you were caught in the act. Hackett received another complaint about you sitting astride a wall in Ms. Hughes’ back yard last night. Officer Jarvis gave a positive ID.”
Temeke could feel Malin’s intense focus. “Ms. Martinez mentioned climbing over the wall a few times. I was checking to see how easy it was.”
“Damn it, bro. Don’t you have anything else?”
Temeke knew there was no way out and neither one of them had any substantial evidence. With Malin looking ominously on the verge of collapse, a theory was the best he could offer.
“So far the killings are all in Albuquerque, Luis. Geographical radius about eight miles. Victims are adult white females between the ages of nineteen and twenty-three, different ethnic groups, same socioeconomic status, and they all knew each other. Two vics dead, one missing and one in hospital under twenty-four hour surveillance. All within a month.”
“I agree, a compressed timeframe. What’s the connection?”
“All these victims went to Los Poblanos Academy,” Malin chimed in.
“According to the principal,” Temeke said, “they made up a tight-knit group. Six girls including Adel Martinez.”
Luis nodded slightly. “So, you’re working on the proposition that all three victims, plus two potential victims, were perpetrated by the same person?”
“It’s possible. And it looks personal,” Temeke said. “We’ll be meeting with Mr. Moose Ham, chef at Los Poblanos Academy. Small time drug dealer, been in and out a few times. Good looking guy.”
“I’m not following?”
“In the industry, Luis, looks and background are considered a clue.”
“Based on statistics and probable behavior would you say Mr. Ham fits the profile?”
“No, sir. He’s a witness.”
“Then what type of person do you see?”
Temeke had a light bulb moment in the nick of time. “I’m seeing a man who might have been sexually abused, terrorized, or even bullied. Went on a bender, probably killed the Samadi girl before trying to make the Voorhees incident look like an accident. Shame about the Belmonte drowning, but we were bloody lucky to get to Zarah Thai before it was too late.”
“You know what I see? I see a high profile case that isn’t any further along that it was a month ago and I see homicide scrutinizing the lead detective because they don’t think he’s up for it. They say your last name spells trouble, dead loss, embarrassment to the police department. I’d like to see things change.”
“Maybe this will add a little inspiration.” Temeke pointed at the book. “You might want to read it because whoever killed these women had a vested interest in the occult.”
Luis raised the edge of his upper lip and gave an eye roll. “Any staging of the bodies? Religious symbols?”
“None. All murders took place inside their homes, except for Rosa Belmonte. I doubt she was lured. Had singing practice every Friday night at the Waterfalls Studios on 528. Parked by the river to eat waffle fries and honey mustard sauce from the Burger Giant. We know because she paid with a debit card. So someone was watching her.”
Luis opened the book and flipped through a few pages. “Amphetamines heighten the libido.”
“Also known to cause hallucinations, insomnia and headache,” Malin said.
Temeke couldn’t speculate as to how many students were taking them and he felt himself roiling with unwanted pity for the ones who had become addicted.
“I’ve questioned how they had managed to call in a repeat prescription, sir, because according to Miss Baca, no one had ADHD.”
“So these students must have been getting them from a pill mill?” Luis said, rattling of a few rogue pharmacies in the valley.
“There’s something ancient and disturbing about that book,” Temeke said, eyeing it from behind a smile. “It’s not like ‒ other books.”
“It’s just a book,” Luis said, then conceded, “Pretty weird book. Martinez into all of this?”
“She was conversant with it,” Malin said. “Gave me the chills.”
A stir of ideas seemed to break apart in Temeke’s mind like a flurry of moths and he kept wondering why he couldn’t match Adel’s voice to the woman he’d heard in the field.
“Charlie Miller at Minerd's,” Malin said. “The scrap place... he mentioned a man with dark hair. Someone Zarah Thai could positively identify.”
Luis looked maddeningly uninspired. “Who’s on surveillance at the Martinez place this week?”
“Officers Jarvis, Hinkley and Toledo. I’m on tonight,” Malin begrudgingly volunteered.
Luis’ face dipped closer to the page he was reading, lines etched deep into the skin at his forehead. “Do you really think Martinez lured Paddy Brody into that crack house and slit him up like a pig?”
Temeke sniffed and sat up straight. “No, sir. I don’t.”
