Bouncer (17 page)

The fire-engine-red Mustang succeeded in dispersing the persistent crows much better than her awkward rock throwing had. Thayne appeared much recovered from his drinking bout from the night before but still managed to turn pale at the sight of the protruding, enamel-accented finger.

“This is recent,” he said after a moment’s examination. “The soda can hasn’t dried out yet in the heat.”

“The blood and soda are still tacky, almost as if they were dumped after the fact.” Fox stood as far removed from the pile as possible, her tacky outfit stained with dirt and perspiration.

Thayne sat back on his haunches “I believe this pile of cans was probably deposited here early this morning or last night at the latest. The question is why?”

“Perhaps whoever did this killing thought the area wouldn’t be examined again after Friday’s police convention? You and I both witnessed the police scouring the field fairly thoroughly as well as the Simms and Collins residences, but this area only got a cursory check. What better place to dump incriminating evidence than in a place that has already been searched?”

Nick voiced quietly, “Perhaps, but why not use a distant trash bin?” He studied her small tight face dwarfed by the overly large glasses. “I’m inclined to believe the murderer wished us to find it.”

“Those are serial killer tactics. I find it hard to believe that’s what this is.”

Nick straightened. “Maybe we’re on the wrong track, and this is a serial killing and not a passion killing after all. There are three bodies now, even though one is twenty-five years old. Who knows what other vagrants or drifters might have had met a similar end out here and were just never found. They might have been deposited in the rugged foothills, and with all the coyotes and buzzards about, not much would be left after a few days.”

“It’s not a serial killer,” asserted Lea.

“You sound so certain.”

“I’d stake my minimal reputation there’s only been these three killings. This isn’t random or impulsive; it’s thought-out and methodical and has a connection between the mayor and Ashley Peebles. The killer is very, very smart and loves taunting us. He wanted us to find the note, and now, Connie’s finger.”

“While I’m inclined to agree with you, how would the killer know we’d search this area again?”

“I don’t know, since the only reason I searched it was because you told me to. Did you draw something?”

The silence was deafening. He finally said, “Yes.”

“Let’s see it.”

Thayne’s Adam’s apple worked as she analyzed the simple sketch. “It’s just a pile of cream soda cans.”

Thayne gave a helpless shrug. “I need to talk to Roger.”

Fox remained silent way too long. “You trust him?” she said finally.

“Implicitly. Roger goes by the book. In fact, I think he probably wrote the book, but he has a heart, which is something Rollins lacks entirely. That, and tenacity. You, ah . . . wouldn’t happen to have any hidden forensics skills, would you?

“Na, I flunked science in college. Any plastic bags in your car?”

Nick’s head jerked, his deep brown eyes narrowing. “Just what are you suggesting, Fox?”

“Dr. Koh works for the police department, and if we have him examine the finger, we’re following policy. Plus, he’s a friend of mine and will help us out.”

“That’s circumventing the correct channels a bit, wouldn’t you say, Fox?”

“Rollins is clearly not our friend, and I for one, won’t hand him this finger to later get lost in some bureaucratic shuffle while Philemon Jenkins is indicted. I swear, Thayne, if you give Steven Koh two hours, he’ll come up with something. As long as we take photos of the scene, don’t taint the evidence, and deliver it to the proper authorities, what’s wrong with that?
Besides
,
we’ve been hired to find the killer while Roger is incapacitated. That’s all the authorization we need.”

“So why does it feel a bit immoral to me?”

“Immoral? I never suspected you bought into morality, Thayne. And just who states this code of morality? Is it George W. Bush, Jimmy Swaggart, my deceased father, or perhaps even Chief Rollins?

“You understand morals better than anybody, Fox. I’d stake my career on it.”

“Then you’d be wrong. Morals are merely the stepping-stones to attaining what you need. You remember our pledge to Philemon? If I follow the mandates of Chief Rollins and roll over, he’ll be arraigned for Thad’s and Connie’s murders faster than you can say
Murder One
. I have my own set of morals and values to follow, and I refuse to submit to any of that bozo’s stipulations. If I do, we can kiss this case goodbye.”

“No wonder you’re not welcome at the police station. At least Gandhi would have agreed with you. He said,
True morality consists in not following the beaten track, but in finding out the true path for ourselves and fearlessly following it.
”

“Touché for Gandhi. Just remember, they didn’t want me in the Girl Scouts, either, because I questioned the validity of earning those ridiculous homemaking badges. And, I believe I’m inclined to enjoy your quotes, but only when they support my intentions.” A sudden thought struck Lea. “I almost forgot something important after the shock of finding Connie’s finger. I swear I heard something moving behind the Collins wall, Thayne. It sounded like some sort of chained animal.”

“You’re positive?”

“Absolutely. The snarling and growling was clearly confined and distant as if the animal was restricted to a box or a kennel, or,” she added, “in a basement we weren’t able to locate. Of course, the blasted ten-foot wall hampered my determining exactly what it was.”

“Thank God for small favors,” Nick mumbled. All they needed now was a blasted trespassing charge. He remembered his grandmother once describing her irascible husband as a little bandy-rooster, always scratching for a fight. That term aptly described Lea Fox.

“Okay,” he acquiesced. “Let’s check out my trunk for bags and stash our newfound treasure before it gets cold.”

Chapter 16

Fortunately, Nick had had a couple of decently clean grocery bags stashed inside the Mustang’s small trunk. After snapping several photos using her tiny digital camera, Lea picked up the aluminum cream soda can using two dusty sticks as Nick held the bag for her. Not a word passed between the pair. Fortunately, the finger slid back inside the can as Fox lowered it into the bag. Thayne made quick work of picking up the remaining five cans and placing them in yet another supermarket bag for transport.

“Where’s your car?” he asked emotionlessly.

“I left it in the cul-de-sac. I guess I’ll have to ride in your hot rod again.”

“Well, at least we’ll arrive at our destination a great deal faster than in your Mazda. How old is that thing? Twenty years?”

“Eight, and at least it’s paid for,” she snapped back.

He licked his pointer finger and held it up. “Touché, little lady, but at least this baby is worth the shackles of debt.”

Lea buckled up as he headed down the dirt road, leaving a trail of dust behind him. At the main highway, he opened the throttle.

“So, you think Dr. Koh’s at home?”

“Probably; it’s nearly 6:30.”

They headed towards a modern section of town where clusters of well-designed condominiums lined the beautifully landscaped street.

“New part of town?” he asked as if searching for something valid to say.

“About ten years, as you can tell from the size of the trees. Turn left on Craven Street. He’s in the second complex on the left.”

A single-storied, sprawling complex designed in Spanish Mediterranean style with red tile roofs and clinging bougainvilleas pleasured the eye. At the second door on the right, Lea stopped and rang the intercom. Each unit had a private entryway and reasonably sized patio. Dr. Koh’s was filled with beautifully nurtured bushes and hanging plants surrounding a melodious fountain that dripped lazily into a pool where naiads dipped their marble hands. A heavy wrought-iron table, with a beautiful blooming pink fuchsia centered upon its surface, enticed the visitor to sit down and relax.

“Good afternoon,” came Dr. Koh’s voice through the speaker. “May I help you?”

“We certainly hope so, Steven. We’ve got some homework for you.”

“Ah, Lea Fox. Why am I not surprised? I’ll buzz you in.”

The beautiful flat glowed in oiled teak, Spanish pavers, and hand-woven throw rugs. A small pot-bellied Buddha squatted in the corner, surrounded by a shrine of houseplants. An enormous TV leaned towards a nut-brown leather couch strewn with the two latest issues of
Sports Illustrated
and a grisly forensics magazine
.
Upon the rectangular glass coffee table, a single light beer and some dry-roasted peanuts sat next to one of those ingenious little sandboxes complete with miniature rake. The hanging art was colorful and modern, but not too garish. The large windows let in the late afternoon sun, and Nick instantly liked the place. A man could stretch out his legs here.

Thayne deposited the plastic bag right in front of Steven Koh before moving aside as the Asian-American opened the bag with long slim fingers.

He scolded. “What have you been up to, Lea?”

“Not much, Steven, really. Thayne and I were just taking a Monday evening drive and discovered a can with a human finger by a field. Thought we’d bring it to you for examination.”

Thayne winced at the blatant lie.

“And I’m Mary Poppins. What a coincidence! I just happen to have two bodies missing fingers cooling right now at my office.
Lea!
Shame on you, girl.” He sighed heavily.

Nick got the impression he’d dealt with Fox’s antics before.

“Since I don’t want to contaminate either bag here, would you two be good enough to follow me?”

Steven Koh turned right down a thickly carpeted hall and flipped on a low switch at the second door. The interior resembled a doctor’s office with low metal tables, wide counters, and a deep utility sink. Dr. Koh scrubbed his hands after setting the grocery bags upon an examination table.

“Pretty nifty having a lab in your own home,” exclaimed Nick, noting the sterile but well-equipped room.

“Believe me, it’s a real turn on for the girls. Actually, it’s my hobby that motivated me to build the laboratory.” He pointed to the wall. There, a dozen beautifully framed shadow boxes displaying countless butterflies and other bugs lined the distant wall.

“I originally planned to be an entomologist,” he stated matter-of-factly. “But after taking a forensics course, I realized I was destined to follow in my father’s footsteps. I have a real way with the dead. Lea, would you hand me that tray?” He opened a metal drawer and pulled out a pair of thin latex gloves, easing them over his artistic hands.

“And that one there,” he added.

Lea handed him the tray like a professional nurse. It was stocked with tweezers, scalpels, and other instruments more suitable in a medieval torture chamber.

“Don’t look so startled, Mr. Thayne. I’m no Jeffrey Dahmer; I really only dissect bugs unless otherwise instructed by my guests. Unless you’re dead or have six legs, you hold no interest for me.” He pulled out the aluminum can holding the finger and set it upon a stainless steel tray.

“Grab me a slide, Lea,” he requested, and Fox immediately passed him a slender glass plate. Dr. Koh scraped the side of the can and placed the bloody gum upon the thin glass plane. “While I’m positive this is human blood, I’ll know for certain in just a moment.”

Nick observed the pair. Dr. Koh conversed little with Lea, but she seemed to know instinctively what he wanted. Using the precipitin test, he examined the blood under the microscope, afterwards placing it into a small flask to which he added a pale chemical. He then painstakingly struggled to remove the defiant finger. After three minutes of exasperated persistence, he finally managed to pull it out of the can with long-handled tweezers.

“Severed, just like the mayor’s,” he observed studying the clean cut. Steven Koh was incredibly thorough. He not only took a tissue sample of the fingernail with its accompanying nail polish but checked the severed finger for hanging or foreign fibers. He scrutinized the hair on top of the finger before examining the lovely ring. It was the ring that interested him most.

“Not a robbery, for sure. No thief in their right mind would have abandoned this trinket. It’s got to be at least a full carat.” He squinted at it with a small black eyepiece, appearing more like a jeweler than a coroner. “Nearly flawless.” He replaced the ring in a small metal container and moved to the severed end of the waxen finger, which appeared rubber-like under the glaring florescent light.

“It’s very clean. See, there’s very little splintering of the bone. Do you notice the grayish, mottled hue? I would say it has been removed from the hand at least five days ago, if not more. That would coincide with the death estimate for Connie’s body. My preliminary suspicion is that it was removed after her death, but not long after, considering the constriction of the blood vessels. Your report said Connie was last seen alive Tuesday night?”

“That’s right,” confirmed Lea. “A little girl down the street named Katie saw Thad and his girlfriend cruise up the street in a limo just around dusk.”

“Does Chief Rollins know about this… ah… find?”

“Well,” maneuvered Nick, “he definitively knows the finger’s missing and instructed the entire force to be on the lookout for it.” It was the first time he’d seen Fox grin.

“We’re just following orders,” smirked Fox.

“Good God, you’re infuriating, Lea. They used to give lobotomies to women like you in the 19
th
century in an effort to try and control their impulsive natures. When will you ever learn that you have to follow the proper channels? That’s what got you in trouble before, and now I’m party to this. Jesus!” He tossed his stained gloves upon the squeaky clean table and glared at Lea. “Come back at 8:00 a.m. Now, get out of here and let me work.”

Thayne made for the door, but Lea paused. “I, um, forgot to tell Steven something.” Thayne continued through to the front room. She turned to the annoyed coroner.

“I’m sorry, Steven. I . . . ah . . . well . . . you’re right about us not finding the finger by accident. Actually, Thayne was asking me about cream soda earlier . . . whether I drank it or not and then asked me to scour the murder scene again. It was not far from there that I discovered a pile of cream soda cans. Later, after I called him, he showed me a sketch of a similar can, including the finger, sticking out in the trunk of his car.”

Steven froze, able to surmise the most important part of her rambling, nearly incoherent statement. “You suspect him of being party to this murder?” he croaked.

“No.”

“Did he draw the picture?”

“Yes.”

Steven digested this information slowly. A man of science he was being presented with something that was unpalatable, though he’d heard the rumors. “That’s how he got the name the spook.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” she said, verifying what they had both researched.

Steven grunted. “I trust your judgment, Lea. Do what you believe is right. You’re a pragmatic woman. Don’t let his ‘methods’ sway you from where good detective work leads you.”

“His ‘gift’ led me to the cans.”

Steven removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. “Play it safe and legal, Lea. Have evidence for everything and go by the book. Not like this. Not skirting the rules and procedures. You understand me. Thayne is the flash, you’re the elbow grease. Don’t forget it. Tell him I need to speak to him.”

Thayne sat drumming his fingers upon the steering wheel while the Eagles eerily sang
Hotel California
.

“Dr. Koh wants to speak with you privately,” Lea stated gruffly.

“Surprise, surprise,” he stated, slamming the car door grumpily.

Steven Koh sat upon a metal stool in his home laboratory, gazing sightlessly at the severed finger. Its scarlet nail polish made the bodiless finger appear even more grotesque.

“Is there something you wanted to speak with me about, Dr. Koh?”

“The name’s
Steven
. It lets me pretend I have a palatable job and that people really give a shit about me as a person.” He turned his dark eyes towards Nick and studied him.

“I’ve heard things about you, Thayne. Roger once told me that you get “notions” about cases that invariably prove themselves correct. Said he wasn’t sure where these “notions” come from, but mentioned they called you a spook in detective school.”

“Soap opera stuff. I’m just a regular guy with a partner from hell.”

Steven tapped the sticky can. “Lea has a right to be a bit
spooked
.
You have to admit that it’s strange that you mentioned cream soda to Lea earlier and encouraged her to search the area again. And lo and behold, not only does she find what is probably Connie’s finger but, later, you share with her a sketch of the can complete with the aforementioned finger.”

“A coincidence, I guess.”

“And you’re full of shit. Roger told me about some of your escapades
.
But it’s not important that
I
understand your spooky notions
or where they come from
.
It’s only important Lea feels comfortable enough to work with you and trust you.”

“That’s the whole problem,” protested Nick. “You see, Fox, she’s the Holmes type, all evidence and hard work and tapping out possible scenarios on that little handheld contraption of hers. I wouldn’t dare bust her bubble.” Both men stared long and hard at each other.

“Did you draw that sketch?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever know Thad Fisher or Connie Judson?”

“Not while living.”

Finally Steven shrugged. “You’re right about Lea loving her facts, so here’s another one she can punch into her mini-computer. The formaldehyde used to murder Connie Judson had traces of human DNA not related to Connie in its composition.”

Nick swallowed uneasily. “That means . . .”

“Another person’s remains had been floating around in the formaldehyde before Connie was forced to ingest it. This is a serial killer, Nick. Serial killers have no conscience and no mercy. They only possess an insatiable hunger for eliciting that addictive expression of terror upon their victim’s paralyzed faces. Both Connie and Thad’s faces bespoke of incomprehensible horror as well as something else.”

“And what was that?”

“It was disbelief. Disbelief that they were really being killed by whoever murdered them. The killer doesn’t look like a killer, doesn’t act like a killer, and therefore is all the more deadly. Lea’s storming ahead as if these are straight-forward murders. I’m not sure she’s capable of handling this.”

“She seems pretty tough,” countered Nick.

“Does she? Well, I was witness to that tough bravado during her family’s funeral. Did you know that both her father’s and brother’s tongues were cut out before they were hanged? Their severed members stuffed inside their coat pockets along with the message,
The past is now buried.
”