Garden Grove, California
Shadowhawk took in the room. Grocery bags littered the counter, dividing the kitchen from the dining area. “So the Schiff’s had been in the process of unloading their groceries from the car when the intruder forced his way in.”
“That’s why there’s no sign of a break-in,” Thomas said.
Because of the maggots, Thomas kept his distance as he inspected the victim: her head lolled to the side, a stream of blood ran from the corner of her mouth and had dried on her chin.
Shadowhawk squatted to view the part of her face hidden, her right cheek was black and blue.
“Son of a bitch roughed her up.” She stood. “Why the hell would he hit a poor, defenseless woman? I mean, she’s already trussed up like a Christmas turkey for God’s sake. It’s not like she’d pose a threat to anyone.” She was so pissed she could spit nails.
Shadowhawk hadn’t been on the job nearly long enough to shield her heart from the atrocities in the world. Instead they burrowed under her skin and festered there like an infected wound. She had to admit she’d gotten better over the course of a year, but then a case like this rolled around and made her question all of humanity. There was a line you just didn’t cross, children and the elderly.
“Maybe he thought the Schiff’s were hiding a safe and wanted to be certain he left with all the valuables. What better way to get the husband to talk than to torture his wife in front of him?” Thomas replied in a calm, detached voice.
“Then why did the bastard have to go and kill her anyway?”
He shrugged. “Maybe she could identify him?”
“Like the moron was too stupid to wear a mask?”
Thomas shook his head. “What a waste.”
She stared at the vacant chair beside the victim; four cut zip-ties littered the floor. “I wonder what the hell he did with the husband.”
The detectives searched the rest of the house. The entire place had been destroyed, drawers upended, closets ransacked.
“He certainly did a thorough job of it. Do you think he was looking for something in particular?” Shadowhawk asked.
She walked over to the dresser where an ornate box was upended; she used the end of her pen to poke through a pile of costume jewelry. “Looks like he got the good stuff, if there was any.”
A commotion at the front of the house drew their attention. There they found a middle-aged woman with short brown hair struggling in the hands of two uniforms.
“No. I’m the one who called you. This is my parent’s home.” She shouted.
Cooper replied, “I’m sorry, ma’am, this is a crime scene. You can not enter.”
“Where’s my mother, my father? Just get them, they’ll tell you,” she insisted.
Thomas stepped up. “It’s okay, guys. I’ll take it from here.” The officers let her go. “Miss?”
“Blumberg, Rachel Blumberg. What’s going on?”
“Let’s go to the backyard. I think I noticed a table and chairs through the window.” Thomas led the way around the outside of the house, while Shadowhawk brought up the rear.
She sat next to Rachel, and Thomas situated himself directly in front of her. They’d fallen into a routine since they’d partnered up, he would do the interview and she’d take care of the loved one. In a case like this, he’d get as many questions answered as possible before the bad news was broken.
After that it was anyone’s guess how a family member would react. In most cases shock took over and getting them to focus on anything other than their loss was useless. It was best to leave them alone to grieve.
“Mrs. Blumberg, it appears your parents have been robbed. Did they have anything of value in the home?” Thomas asked.
“I knew it. I just knew it. I’d been begging them to move for longer than I can remember. They’ve lived here over fifty years. This is where I grew up, but as you can see, the neighborhood has gone to pot. Everyone they know left years ago.”
“What kind of valuables did your parents have?”
“Mom has a lot of nice jewelry. Dad’s always buying her presents, he’s quite the romantic.”
“Anything else?” Thomas asked.
“Uh. Dad collected baseball cards and stamps. Is that what you mean?”
“Who would know about these collections?”
“Anyone who knew my dad. He was very proud of them. If you showed even a glimmer of interest, he’d bring them out and show you. Is that what happened?” She looked to him, then Shadowhawk.
“What about a safe, did they have one of those in the house?” Thomas asked.
“No. They had a safe deposit box. Please let me talk to my parents.”
“What kind of car do they drive?”
“Cadillac. That’s all they’ve ever driven. They’d buy a new one every five years.”
“That could be why they were targeted. A nice car like that in this neighborhood might give people the impression they were wealthy,” Shadowhawk said to Thomas.
“That’s what I’ve been telling them. Now, please–”
Thomas interrupted. “Do you know where they keep the car insurance papers?”
Rachel expelled a huge breath. “There’s a filing cabinet in the den, they would be under I for insurance.” Rachel crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not answering another question until you tell me what the hell is going on here.”
Thomas glanced at Shadowhawk, she nodded. It was time to deliver the crashing blow. After the bad news had been delivered, an ear-splitting scream followed, then the woman collapsed on the glass table in tears. Shadowhawk ran her hand across her back to comfort her. “Is there anyone we call for you?”
“No. I just want to be left alone,” Rachel said without lifting her head.
Silently they made their way into the house through the back door. They located the tall metal cabinet in the den and opened the top drawer. After flipping through the files, Thomas stopped at the letter I, then found a tab that read Car Insurance and pulled out the folder.
After skimming the policy, he located the VIN and license plate number. He handed the policy to her. “Get Cooper on this.”
She headed down the hall where she stopped and lifted an 8x10 photograph of the couple off the wall. She pulled out the picture, then re-hung the empty frame before she located Myron Cooper, a veteran cop they’d worked with several times.
“Coop.”
He had his back to her and turned around. “Yes, ma’am?”
She handed him the policy. “Put out a BOLO on this vehicle and the owner, Benjamin Schiff.”
“You got it, Detective.”
“Thanks.” After folding the picture in half, she slid it into her jacket pocket and returned to the den.
Thomas had been reading an open file. “Found their bank records. There are three different financial institutions; Wells Fargo, where they have a regular checking account and a safe deposit box. Schools First Credit Union, where they keep a money market account, and Synchrony Bank with two $125,000.00 CD’s, each maturing a year apart.”
Shadowhawk was perplexed. What did their banking have to do with anything? “Do you think he was after the money all along?”
“Just thought we’d look into the possibility. It’s been bugging me. Why tie the wife up and take the husband?”
Shadowhawk started to pace. “So the perp ties them both up and searches the house for valuables. Not satisfied with his take, he questions the husband, but he isn’t forthcoming. He clocks the wife and Schiff says–” She stops directly in front of Thomas. “I’ll get you the money, just don’t hurt my wife.”
“That’s pretty much the scenario that was running through my head.”
The detectives reached the front of the house just as the Chief Medical Examiner, Cheryl Gardner, walked in. She wore her short blonde hair spiked all over like an aging punk rocker. When she pinned you with her gaze, her pale blue eyes twinkled like she knew your deepest darkest secrets and could expose you at any time.
Even though petite in stature, she was an imposing figure that scared the shit out of the rookies. That was only one of the reasons Shadowhawk liked her so much. But the main reason Shadowhawk adored the Doc was the outrageous shit that came flying out of her mouth. Today she wore a black Ramones t-shirt and jeans under her white lab coat. Closer to sixty, her face showed her age like the serious smoker she was.
“How you doing, Cheryl?” Thomas said.
“Hey, Fugly. If I were doing any better, it’d be illegal. How they hanging?” she said in her gravelly smoker’s voice.
“Great now that you’re here.” He kissed her cheek.
“Of course, that goes without saying.”
Shadowhawk came up alongside Thomas. “Hey, Doc, you’re looking especially fetching today.”
“Why thank you for noticing.” Cheryl inclined her head toward Thomas. “I see you’re still hangin’ with this loser.”
Shadowhawk crossed her arms. “Yeah, I felt sorry for him.”
Thomas shook his head. “I can’t get any respect.”
Cheryl patted his arm. “Ah, you know we love you.”
“Right. About as much as a bad case of the clap.”
A phlegm-filled laugh escaped Cheryl’s mouth. “Point me in the right direction.”
Thomas guided her to the cadaver while Shadowhawk followed behind. Highly amused, she loved their banter.
“How’s that pretty little gal of yours, Meagan?”
“She hates school.”
Cheryl said, “No shit, who doesn’t?”
“That’s what I keep telling her.” Thomas stopped in front of the victim.
Cheryl halted at his side, but continued to focus on him and their conversation. “You do know she’s too good for you, right?”
“Yup. I’ve told her countless times, but she won’t listen.”
“Maybe she’s not as smart as she looks.” Cheryl set her case on the floor. “Just remember, if she ever wises up and dumps your sorry ass, I’m still available. But keep in mind–” She pointed her index finger at her face. “with this gorgeous mug I won’t be single forever.”
“I don’t doubt that for a second,” Thomas said with a perpetual grin he reserved just for the doctor.
Cheryl shoved her hands into a pair of gloves. “Have you knocked her up yet?”
“Not yet.”
“What the hell are you waiting for?” She pointed to his groin and arched her brows. “Everything’s in working order down there, isn’t it?”
He laughed. “Yes, thanks for asking. We’re just in practice mode right now. She wants to graduate first.”
“Practice does make perfect. You give her a big old hug for me.”
“Will do.”
Cheryl crouched next to the body, crooked a finger under her chin and raised the victim’s head. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Poor thing.” She glanced up at Thomas. “Do me a favor, when you catch this guy, string him up by the balls, will ya?”
“Anything for you, Cheryl.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” She turned her attention back to the corpse. “Looks like the GSW was done with a shotgun at short range. No doubt shredded her heart. Son-of-a-bitch.”
“You think that’s the COD?”
“Best guess for now. Rigor’s come and gone, so she’s been dead at least forty-eight hours. Exact TOD will be tricky because the heat wave has sped up the decomp.”
Daniel Ramsey, her assistant, rolled the gurney into position on the other side of the vic.
“Danny, do me a favor. Bag and tag all the meds in the house for the tox screen.”
“Certainly, Dr. Gardner.” The assistant pulled a canvas bag out from under the gurney and headed down the hall.
Cheryl reached into her case and pulled out a pair of forceps and a small plastic container. “Come here, little guy.” She plucked a maggot from the victim’s nose and dropped it in, then went for another.
Thomas shuddered.
“Jesus, Thomas, when are you going to grow a pair?”
“Oh, I don’t know, how about…never?”
“They’re a part of life and death.”
“So you’ve said.” He replied.
Cheryl held the giant tweezers in the air as one wiggled between its grasp. “They’re damned important to my job. These babies are going to help me determine the time of death.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Stop playing around with the damn thing.” Thomas turned his head.
Cheryl chuckled as she added the specimen to her collection before closing the lid. “Has she been thoroughly photographed?”
“I don’t know. I saw Sue Green around here somewhere with the camera,” Shadowhawk said. “Weaver.” She called to one of the forensic techs. “Find Sue for us, will ya?”
Weaver nodded and took off.
Sue came into the room. “Someone looking for me?”
Cheryl stood a foot from the cadaver. “Were you done photographing the body?”
“Yes. You can move her now.”
“Okay.” Cheryl bagged the woman’s hands to preserve any possible evidence during transport. She lifted a large pair of thick-bladed shears and cut the zip-ties around the wrists. Sue took a few pictures. “Now the ankles.” Cheryl cut the ties and stood back while Sue did her job.
Cheryl put the scissors away. “Help me lay her out.” The command was to all in the vicinity, except Sue. Her job was to continue to record the process.
Thomas laid the papers on the nearby counter and got into position to assist. Shadowhawk got on the other side.
Cheryl grabbed the woman underneath her shoulders. “One, two, three. Go.” They all lifted, then laid the vic face-up within the open body-bag on the gurney. “Let’s roll her on her right side.”
They followed her instructions. Thomas cringed as several white worms dropped from the cadaver into the bag.
Shadowhawk snickered.
“Liver mortis confirms the body has not been moved, she died right where she sat,” Cheryl said.
Sue took copious amounts of pictures of her backside.
“Okay,” Sue said.
They eased her down.
Daniel showed up and put the canvas bag back under the gurney.
Thomas snagged the financial papers. “Keep us in the loop, Cheryl.”
“You know I will.”
He and Shadowhawk were almost to the door.
“Oh, and stud?”
The detectives turned and faced her.
Cheryl grinned. “Her, not you.”
“Of course, what was I thinking?” Thomas continued out the door.
Cheryl’s expression had turned serious. “Maybe you should give him a few pointers.” She cocked her thumb toward Thomas. “He’s got no game.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Shadowhawk said.
“Shit,” Thomas mumbled.